We had got some distance, the wind being up stream, when just at dawn I fancied that I heard a faint though prolonged yell.  We stopped paddling for a moment, I asked Red Squirrel if he thought that the Blackfeet had got across to our camp.  He nodded, and uttered a low laugh, significant of his satisfaction that we had deceived them.  Daylight increasing, we put up our masts and hoisted the light cotton sails, which sent our canoes skimming over the water at a far greater speed than we had hitherto been able to move.