The darkness was not too great to keep the Abenaki from seeing that it
was a good canoe, a fine shell of Iroquois make, and canoes were
valuable. He had not been able to secure any scalp, which was a sad
disappointment, and now Manitou had sent this stray craft to him as a
consolation prize. He was not one to decline the gifts of the gods, and
he ran along the edge of the cliff until he came to a low point well
ahead of the canoe. Then he put his rifle on the ground, dropped lightly
into the stream, and swam with swift sure strokes for the derelict.
As the warrior approached he saw that his opinion of the canoe was more
than justified. It had been made with uncommon skill and he admired its
strong, graceful lines. It was not often that such a valuable prize came
to a man and asked to be taken. He reached it and put one hand upon the
side. Then a heavy fist stretched entirely over the canoe and struck him
such a mighty blow upon the jaw that he sank senseless, and when he
revived two minutes later on a low bank where the current had cast him,
he did not know what had happened to him.
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