The thunder rumbled again.

There was no crash, it was more like a deep groan coming up out of the far south.

The waters of Andiatarocte lifted themselves anew, and wave after wave pursued one another northward.

A wind began to blow, straight and strong, but heavy floating clouds came in its train, and the darkness grew so intense that Robert could not see the face of Tayoga beside him.
Daganoweda called from the north end of the swimming line, and the word was passed from Mohawk and ranger until Willet at the south end replied.
All were there.

Not a man, white or red, had dropped out, and not one would.
"In a minute or two the lightning will show the way," said Tayoga.
As the last word left his lips a flaming sword blazed across the lake, and disclosed the island, wooded and black, not more than two hundred yards distant, and the dim shadows of canoes and boats huddled against the bank.