They could not see the faintest outline of the island, but held their course from memory.
They had been out about ten minutes when Ross and Sol, as if by simultaneous impulse, ceased paddling, and Henry whispered; "Don't anybody make any noise; it's for our lives!" They heard that faint splash, which Paul had learned to hate, coming back.
The Miami navy, from some unknown cause, had turned in its course.

How Paul blessed the thick, fog-charged darkness! "It's all chance now," whispered Henry, ever so low, and Paul understood.
Then they held their breath, and the Miami canoes steadily drew nearer.
Would they come directly upon the white canoe or would they pass?
They passed, but they passed so near that Paul could hear the Indians in the boats talking to each other.

He also heard his heart beating in his body as the invisible file went by, and the loud beat did not cease until no more splashing of the paddles was heard.
"Is all my hair gray ?" whispered Shif'less Sol.
Paul wanted to laugh in a kind of nervous relief, but he did not dare.
Instead he whispered back: "I can't see, Sol, but I'm sure mine is." Ross and Shif'less Sol took up the paddles again, and now they reached the island without interruption.

The boat was hidden again, and soon all were in the hut in the sheltered cove.

Henry spoke with approval of the industry and forethought of Paul and Jim in their absence.
"This hut is a mighty good place on a raw night like this," he said.