The time seemed endless to James, as he
lay there. It was too dark, under the trees, for him even to see the
outline of Nat's figure. The boat was, he was sure, moving; for
occasionally, as he lay on his back, it grew lighter overhead, as they
passed under openings in the trees.
Suddenly his heart gave a bound, and he nearly started, for a guttural
voice spoke, seemingly within a few feet of the canoe. He placed his
hand on his rifle, in readiness to sit up and fire, but all was still
again. It was a passing remark, made by one redskin to another; in a
canoe, for the sound was to his right. Another long period passed, and
then Jonathan sat up and took to his paddle again, and James judged
that the danger was over.
Raising his head, he could see nothing except the vague light of the
sheet of water on his right. The boat was still keeping close under the
trees, on the left shore of the lake, and he lay back again, and dozed
off to sleep. He was awoke by Jonathan touching his foot.
"You can take your paddle now, captain."
He sat up at once, and looked round. They were far out now, on a broad
sheet of water. There were some faint lights, as of fires burning low,
high up to the left behind them; and he knew that they had already
passed Ticonderoga, and were making their way along Lake Champlain.
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