The rose-tinted clouds that had lain so long piled upon each other in
mountainous ridges, began to move upwards, at first slowly, then with
rapidly accelerated motion. There was a hollow moaning in the pine tops,
and by fits a gusty breeze swept the surface of the water, raising it into
rough, short, white-crested ridges.
These signs were pointed out by Indiana as the harbinger of a rising
hurricane; and now a swift spark of light like a falling star glanced on
the water, as if there to quench its fiery light. Again the Indian girl
raised her dark hand and pointed to the rolling storm-clouds, to the
crested, waters and the moving pine tops; then to the head of the Beaver
Island--it was the one nearest to them. With an arm of energy she wielded
the paddle, with an eye of fire she directed the course of their little
vessel, for well she knew their danger and the need for straining every
nerve to reach the nearest point of land. Low muttering peals of thunder
were now heard, the wind was rising with electric speed. Away flew the
light bark, with the swiftness of a bird, over the water; the tempest was
above, around and beneath.
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