Reef once more became a scene of life and activity.  The schooner was soon completed, and it only remained to put her into the water.  This work was already commenced by Bigelow, and the governor directed everybody to lend a hand in effecting so desirable an object.  Bigelow had all his materials ready, and so perseveringly did our colonists work, that the schooner was all ready to be put into the water on the evening of the second day.  The launch was deferred only to have the benefit of daylight.  That afternoon Mark, accompanied by his wife, had gone in the Bridget, his favourite boat, to look for the signal tree.  He went some distance into the strait, ere he was near enough to get a sight of it even with the glass; when he did procure a view, there it was precisely as he had last seen it.  Putting the helm of the boat up, the instant he was assured of his fact, the governor wore short round, making the best, of his way back to the crater, again.  The distances, it will be remembered, were considerable, and it required time to make the passage.  The sun was setting as Mark was running along the channel to the Reef, the young man pointing out to his charming wife the growth of the trees, the tints of the evening sky, the drove of hogs, the extent of his new meadows, and such other objects as would be likely to interest both, in the midst of such a scene.  The boat rounded a point where a portion of the hogs had been sleeping, and as it came sweeping up, the animals rose in a body, snuffed the air, and began scampering off in the way conformable to their habits, Mark laughing and pointing with his fingers to draw Bridget’s attention to their antics.

“There are more of the creatures” said Bridget; “yonder, on the further side of the prairie—­I dare say the two parties will join each other, and have a famous scamper, in company.”

“More!” echoed Mark; “that can hardly be, as we passed some thirty of them several miles to the southward.—­What is it you see, dearest, that you mistake for hogs?”

“Why, yonder—­more than a mile from us; on the opposite side of the prairie and near the water, in the other channel.”

“The other is not a channel at all; it is a mere bay that leads to nothing; so none of our boats or people can be there.  The savages, as I am your husband, Bridget!”

Sure enough, the objects which Bridget had mistaken for mere hogs, were in truth the heads and shoulders of some twenty Indians who were observing the movements of the boat from positions taken on the other side of the plain, so as to conceal all but the upper halves of their bodies.  They had two canoes; war canoes, moreover; but these were the whole party, at that point at least.

This was a most grave discovery.  The governor had hoped the Reef, so accessible on every side by means of canoes, would, for years at least, continue to be a terra incognita to the savages.  On this ignorance of the natives would much of its security depend, for the united forces of the colonists could scarcely suffice to maintain the place against the power of Waally.  The matter as it was, called for all his energies, and for the most prompt measures.