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The MASTERS of the PEAKS

A STORY OF THE GREAT NORTH WOODS


BY JOSEPH A. ALTSHELER

1918




FOREWORD


"The Masters of the Peaks," while presenting a complete story in
itself is the fourth volume of the French and Indian War Series, of
which the predecessors were "The Hunters of the Hills," "The Shadow
of the North," and "The Rulers of the Lakes." Robert Lennox, Tayoga,
Willet, and all the other important characters of the earlier romances
reappear in the present book.




CHARACTERS IN THE FRENCH AND INDIAN WAR SERIES


ROBERT LENNOX:              A lad of unknown origin

TAYOGA                      A young Onondaga warrior

DAVID WILLET                A hunter

RAYMOND LOUIS DE ST. LUC    A brilliant French officer

AUGUSTE DE COURCELLES       A French officer

FRANÇOIS DE JUMONVILLE      A French officer

LOUIS DE GALISSONNIÈRE      A young French officer

JEAN DE MÉZY                A corrupt Frenchman

ARMAND GLANDELET            A young Frenchman

PIERRE BOUCHER              A bully and bravo

PHILIBERT DROUILLARD        A French priest

THE MARQUIS DUQUESNE        Governor-General of Canada

MARQUIS DE VAUDREUIL        Governor-General of Canada

FRANÇOIS BIGOT              Intendant of Canada

MARQUIS DE MONTCALM         French commander-in-chief

DE LEVIS                    A French general

BOURLAMAQUE                 A French general

BOUGAINVILLE                A French general

ARMAND DUBOIS               A follower of St. Luc

M. DE CHATILLARD            An old French Seigneur

CHARLES LANGLADE            A French partisan

THE DOVE                    The Indian wife of Langlade

TANDAKORA                   An Ojibway chief

DAGONOWEDA                  A young Mohawk chief

HENDRICK                    An old Mohawk chief

BRADDOCK                    A British general

ABERCROMBIE                 A British general

WOLFE                       A British general

COL. WILLIAM JOHNSON        Anglo-American leader

MOLLY BRANT                 Col. Wm. Johnson's Indian wife

JOSEPH BRANT                Young brother of Molly Brant, afterward
                            the great Mohawk chief, Thayendanegea

ROBERT DINWIDDIE            Lieutenant-Governor of Virginia




CHARACTERS


William Shirley        Governor of Massachusetts

Benjamin Franklin      Famous American patriot

James Colden           A young Philadelphia captain

William Wilton         A young Philadelphia lieutenant

Hugh Carson            A young Philadelphia lieutenant

Jacobus Huysman        An Albany burgher

Caterina               Jacobus Huysman's cook

Alexander McLean       An Albany schoolmaster

Benjamin Hardy         A New York merchant

Johnathan Pillsbury    Clerk to Benjamin Hardy

Adrian Van Zoon        A New York merchant

The Slaver             A nameless rover

Achille Garay          A French spy

Alfred Grosvenor       A young English officer

James Cabell           A young Virginian

Walter Stuart          A young Virginian

Black Rifle            A famous "Indian fighter"

Elihu Strong           A Massachusetts colonel

Alan Hervey            A New York financier

Stuart Whyte           Captain of the British sloop, _Hawk_

John Latham            Lieutenant of the British sloop, _Hawk_

Edward Charteris       A young officer of the Royal Americans

Zebedee Crane          A young scout and forest runner

Robert Rogers          Famous Captain of American Rangers




CONTENTS

CHAPTER


I. IN THE DEEP WOODS

II. ON THE RIDGES

III. THE BRAVE DEFENCE

IV. THE GODS AT PLAY

V. TAMING A SPY

VI. PUPILS OF THE BEAR

VII. THE SLEEPING SENTINELS

VIII. BEFORE MONTCALM

IX. THE SIGN OF THE BEAR

X. THE FLIGHT OF THE TWO

XI. THE MYSTIC VOYAGE

XII. THE MARVELOUS TRAILER

XIII. READING THE SIGNS

XIV. ST. LUC'S REVENGE




CHAPTER I


IN THE DEEP WOODS

A light wind sang through the foliage, turned to varying and vivid
hues now by the touch of autumn, and it had an edge of cold that made
Robert Lennox shiver a little, despite a hardy life in wilderness and
open. But it was only a passing feeling. A moment or two later he
forgot it, and, turning his eyes to the west, watched the vast
terraces of blazing color piled one above another by the sinking sun.

Often as he had seen it the wonderful late glow over the mighty forest
never failed to stir him, and to make his pulse beat a little faster.
His sensitive mind, akin in quality to that of a poet, responded with
eagerness and joy to the beauty and majesty of nature. Forgetting
danger and the great task they had set for themselves, he watched the
banks of color, red and pink, salmon and blue, purple and yellow,
shift and change, while in the very heart of the vast panorama the
huge, red orb, too strong for human sight, glittered and flamed.

The air, instinct with life, intoxicated him and he became rapt as in
a vision. People whom he had met in his few but eventful years passed
before him again in all the seeming of reality, and then his spirit
leaped into the future, dreaming of the great things he would see, and
in which perhaps he would have a share.

Tayoga, the young Onondaga, looked at his comrade and he understood.
The same imaginative thread had been woven into the warp of which
he was made, and his nostrils and lips quivered as he drank in the
splendor of a world that appealed with such peculiar force to him, a
son of the woods.

"The spirit of Areskoui (the Sun God) is upon Dagaeoga, and he has
left us to dwell for a little while upon the seas of color heaped
against the western horizon," he said.

Willet, the hunter, smiled. The two lads were very dear to him. He
knew that they were uncommon types, raised by the gift of God far
above the normal.

"Let him rest there, Tayoga," he said, "while those brilliant banks
last, which won't be long. All things change, and the glorious hues
will soon give way to the dark."

"True, Great Bear, but if the night comes it, in turn, must yield to
the dawn. All things change, as you say, but nothing perishes. The sun
tomorrow will be the same sun that we see today. Black night will not
take a single ray from its glory."

"It's so, Tayoga, but you talk like a book or a prophet. I'm wondering
if our lives are not like the going and coming of the sun. Maybe we
pass on from one to another, forever and forever, without ending."

"Great Bear himself feels the spell of Areskoui also."

"I do, but we'd better stop rhapsodizing and think about our needs.
Here, Robert, wake up and come back to earth! It's no time to sing a
song to the sun with the forest full of our red enemies and the white
too, perhaps."

Robert awoke with a start.

"You dragged me out of a beautiful world," he said.

"A world in which you were the central star," rejoined the hunter.

"So I was, but isn't that the case with all the imaginary worlds a man
creates? He's their sun or he wouldn't create 'em."

"We're getting too deep into the unknown. Plant your feet on the solid
earth, Robert, and let's think about the problems a dark night is
going to bring us in the Indian country, not far south of the St.
Lawrence."

Young Lennox shivered again. The terraces in the west suddenly began
to fade and the wind took on a fresh and sharper edge.

"I know one thing," he said. "I know the night's going to be cold. It
always is in the late autumn, up here among the high hills, and I'd
like to see a fire, before which we could bask and upon which we could
warm our food."

The hunter glanced at the Onondaga.

"That tells the state of my mind, too," he said, "but I doubt whether
it would be safe. If we're to be good scouts, fit to discover the
plans of the French and Indians, we won't get ourselves cut off by
some rash act in the very beginning."

"It may not be a great danger or any at all," said Tayoga. "There is
much rough and rocky ground to our right, cut by deep chasms, and
we might find in there a protected recess in which we could build a
smothered fire."

"You're a friend at the right time, Tayoga," said Robert. "I feel that
I must have warmth. Lead on and find the stony hollow for us."

The Onondaga turned without a word, and started into the maze of lofty
hills and narrow valleys, where the shadows of the night that was
coming so swiftly already lay thick and heavy.

The three had gone north after the great victory at Lake George, a
triumph that was not followed up as they had hoped. They had waited
to see Johnson's host pursue the enemy and strike him hard again, but
there were bickerings among the provinces which were jealous of one
another, and the army remained in camp until the lateness of the
season indicated a delay of all operations, save those of the scouts
and roving bands that never rested. But Robert, Willet and Tayoga
hoped, nevertheless, that they could achieve some deed of importance
during the coming cold weather, and they were willing to undergo great
risks in the effort.

They were soon in the heavy forest that clothed all the hills, and
passed up a narrow ravine leading into the depths of the maze. The
wind followed them into the cleft and steadily grew colder. The
glowing terraces in the west broke up, faded quite away, and night, as
yet without stars, spread over the earth.

Tayoga was in front, the other two following him in single file,
stepping where he stepped, and leaving to him without question the
selection of a place where they could stay. The Onondaga, guided by
long practice and the inheritance from countless ancestors who had
lived all their lives in the forest, moved forward with confidence.
His instinct told him they would soon come to such a refuge as they
desired, the rocky uplift about him indicating the proximity of many
hollows.

The darkness increased, and the wind swept through the chasms with
alternate moan and whistle, but the red youth held on his course for
a full two miles, and his comrades followed without a word. When the
cliffs about them rose to a height of two or three hundred feet, he
stopped, and, pointing with a long forefinger, said he had found what
they wished.

Robert at first could see nothing but a pit of blackness, but
gradually as he gazed the shadows passed away, and he traced a deep
recess in the stone of the cliff, not much of a shelter to those
unused to the woods, but sufficient for hardy forest runners.

"I think we may build a little fire in there," said Tayoga, "and no
one can see it unless he is here in the ravine within ten feet of us."

Willet nodded and Robert joyfully began to prepare for the blaze. The
night was turning even colder than he had expected, and the chill
was creeping into his frame. The fire would be most welcome for its
warmth, and also because of the good cheer it would bring. He swept
dry leaves into a heap within the recess, put upon them dead wood,
which was abundant everywhere, and then Tayoga with artful use of
flint and steel lighted the spark.

"It is good," admitted the hunter as he sat Turkish fashion on the
leaves, and spread out his hands before the growing flames. "The
nights grow cold mighty soon here in the high hills of the north, and
the heat not only loosens up your muscles, but gives you new courage."

"I intend to make myself as comfortable as possible," said Robert.
"You and Tayoga are always telling me to do so and I know the advice
is good."

He gathered great quantities of the dry leaves, making of them what
was in reality a couch, upon which he could recline in halfway fashion
like a Roman at a feast, and warm at the fire before him the food he
carried in a deerskin knapsack. An appetizing odor soon arose, and, as
he ate, a pleasant warmth pervaded all his body, giving him a feeling
of great content. They had venison, the tender meat of the young bear
which, like the Indians, they loved, and they also allowed themselves
a slice apiece of precious bread. Water was never distant in the
northern wilderness, and Tayoga found a brook not a hundred yards
away, flowing down a ravine that cut across their own. They drank at
it in turn, and, then, the three lay down on the leaves in the recess,
grateful to the Supreme Power which provided so well for them, even in
the wild forest.

They let the flames die, but a comfortable little bed of coals
remained, glowing within the shelter of the rocks. Young Lennox heaped
up the leaves until they formed a pillow under his head, and then
half dreaming, gazed into the heart of the fire, while his comrades
reclined near him, each silent but with his mind turned to that which
concerned him most.

Robert's thoughts were of St. Luc, of the romantic figure he had
seen in the wilderness after the battle of Lake George, the knightly
chevalier, singing his gay little song of mingled sentiment and
defiance. An unconscious smile passed over his face. He and St. Luc
could never be enemies. In very truth, the French leader, though an
official enemy, had proved more than once the best of friends, ready
even to risk his life in the service of the American lad. What was
the reason? What could be the tie between them? There must be some
connection. What was the mystery of his origin? The events of the last
year indicated to him very clearly that there was such a mystery.
Adrian Van Zoon and Master Benjamin Hardy surely knew something about
it, and Willet too. Was it possible that a thread lay in the hand of
St. Luc also?

He turned his eyes from the coals and gazed at the impassive face of
the hunter. Once the question trembled on his lips, but he was sure
the Great Bear would evade the answer, and the lad thought too much of
the man who had long stood to him in the place of father to cause him
annoyance. Beyond a doubt Willet had his interests at heart, and, when
the time came for him to speak, speak he would, but not before.

His mind passed from the subject to dwell upon the task they had set
for themselves, a thought which did not exclude St. Luc, though the
chevalier now appeared in the guise of a bold and skillful foe, with
whom they must match their wisdom and courage. Doubtless he had formed
a new band, and, at the head of it, was already roaming the country
south of the St. Lawrence. Well, if that were the case perhaps they
would meet once more, and he would have given much to penetrate the
future.

"Why don't you go to sleep, Robert?" asked the hunter.

"For the best of reasons. Because I can't," replied the lad.

"Perhaps it's well to stay awake," said the Onondaga gravely.

"Why, Tayoga?"

"Someone comes."

"Here in the ravine?"

"No, not in the ravine but on the cliff opposite us."

Robert strained both eye and ear, but he could neither see nor hear
any human being. The wall on the far side of the ravine rose to a
considerable height, its edge making a black line against the sky, but
nothing there moved.

"Your fancy is too much for you, Tayoga," he said. "Thinking that
someone might come, it creates a man out of air and mist."

"No, Dagaeoga, my fancy sleeps. Instead, my ear, which speaks only the
truth, tells me a man is walking along the crest of the cliff, and
coming on a course parallel with our ravine. My eye does not yet see
him, but soon it will confirm what my ear has already told me. This
deep cleft acts as a trumpet and brings the sound to me."

"How far away, then, would you say is this being, who, I fear, is
mythical?"

"He is not mythical. He is reality. He is yet about three hundred
yards distant. I might not have heard him, even with the aid of the
cleft, but tonight Areskoui has given uncommon power to my ear,
perhaps to aid us, and I know he is walking among thick bushes. I can
hear the branches swish as they fly back into place, after his body
has passed. Ah, a small stick popped as it broke under his foot!"

"I heard nothing."

"That is not my fault, O Dagaeoga. It is a heavy man, because I now
hear his footsteps, even when they do not break anything. He walks
with some uncertainty. Perhaps he fears lest he should make a false
step, and tumble into the ravine."

"Since you can tell so much through hearing, at such a great distance,
perhaps you know what kind of a man the stranger is. A warrior, I
suppose?"

"No, he is not of our race. He would not walk so heavily. It is a
white man."

"One of Rogers' rangers, then? Or maybe it is Rogers himself, or
perhaps Black Rifle."

"It is none of those. They would advance with less noise. It is one
not so much used to the forest, but who knows the way, nevertheless,
and who doubtless has gone by this trail before."

"Then it must be a Frenchman!"

"I think so too."

"It won't be St. Luc?"

"No, Dagaeoga, though your tone showed that for a moment you hoped it
was. Sharp Sword is too skillful in the forest to walk with so heavy
a step. Nor can it be either of the leaders, De Courcelles or
Jumonville. They also are too much at home in the woods. The right
name of the man forms itself on my lips, but I will wait to be sure.
In another minute he will enter the bare space almost opposite us and
then we can see."

The three waited in silence. Although Robert had expressed doubt he
felt none. He had a supreme belief in the Onondaga's uncanny powers,
and he was quite sure that a man was moving upon the bluff. A stranger
at such a time was to be watched, because white men came but little
into this dangerous wilderness.

A dark figure appeared within the prescribed minute upon the crest and
stopped there, as if the man, whoever he might be, wished to rest and
draw fresh breath. The sky had lightened and he was outlined clearly
against it. Robert gazed intently and then he uttered a little cry.

"I know him!" he said. "I can't be mistaken. It's Achille Garay, the
one whose name we found written on a fragment of a letter in Albany."

"It's the man who tried to kill you, none other," said Tayoga gravely,
"and Areskoui whispered in my ear that it would be he."

"What on earth can he be doing here in this lone wilderness at such a
time?" asked Robert.

"Likely he's on his way to a French camp with information about our
forces," said Willet. "We frightened Mynheer Hendrik Martinus, when we
were in Albany, but I suppose that once a spy and traitor always a
spy and traitor. Since the immediate danger has moved from Albany,
Martinus and Garay may have begun work again."

"Then we'd better stop him," said Robert.

"No, let him go on," said Willet. "He can't carry any information
about us that the French leaders won't find out for themselves.
The fact that he's traveling in the night indicates a French camp
somewhere near. We'll put him to use. Suppose we follow him and
discover what we can about our enemies."

Robert looked at the cheerful bed of coals and sighed. They were
seeking the French and Indians, and Garay was almost sure to lead
straight to them. It was their duty to stalk him.

"I wish he had passed in the daytime," he said ruefully.

Tayoga laughed softly.

"You have lived long enough in the wilderness, O Dagaeoga," he said,
"to know that you cannot choose when and where you will do your work."

"That's true, Tayoga, but while my feet are unwilling to go my will
moves me on. So I'm entitled to more credit than you who take an
actual physical de light in trailing anybody at any time."

The Onondaga smiled, but did not reply. Then the three took up their
arms, returned their packs to their backs and without noise left the
alcove. Robert cast one more reluctant glance at the bed of coals, but
it was a farewell, not any weakening of the will to go.

Garay, after his brief rest on the summit, had passed the open space
and was out of sight in the bushes, but Robert knew that both Tayoga
and Willet could easily pick up his trail, and now he was all
eagerness to pursue him and see what the chase might disclose. A
little farther down, the cliff sloped back to such an extent that they
could climb it without trouble, and, when they surmounted the crest,
they entered the bushes at the point where Garay had disappeared.

"Can you hear him now, Tayoga?" asked Robert.

"My ears are as good as they were when I was in the ravine," replied
the Onondaga, "but they do not catch any sounds from the Frenchman.
It is, as we wish, because we do not care to come so near him that he
will hear."

"Give him a half mile start," said Willet. "The ground is soft here,
and it won't be any sort of work to follow him. See, here are the
traces of his footsteps now, and there is where he has pushed his way
among the little boughs. Notice the two broken twigs, Robert."

They followed at ease, the trail being a clear one, and the light of
moon and stars now ample. Robert began to feel the ardor of the chase.
He did not see Garay, but he believed that Tayoga at times heard him
with those wonderful ears of his. He rejoiced too that chance had
caused them to find the French spy in the wilderness. He remembered
that foul attempt upon his life in Albany, and, burning with
resentment, he was eager to thwart Garay in whatever he was now
attempting to do. Tayoga saw his face and said softly:

"You hate this man Garay?"

"I don't like him."

"Do you wish me to go forward and kill him?"

"No! No, Tayoga! Why do you ask me such a cold-blooded question?"

The Onondaga laughed gently.

"I was merely testing you, Dagaeoga," he said. "We of the Hodenosaunee
perhaps do not regard the taking of life as you do, but I would not
shoot Garay from ambush, although I might slay him in open battle. Ah,
there he is again on the crest of the ridge ahead!"

Robert once more saw the thick, strong figure of the spy outlined
against the sky which was now luminous with a brilliant moon and
countless clear stars, and the feeling of resentment was very powerful
within him. Garay, without provocation, had attempted his life, and
he could not forget it, and, for a moment or two, he felt that if
the necessity should come in battle he was willing for a bullet from
Tayoga to settle him. Then he rebuked himself for harboring rancor.

Garay paused, as if he needed another rest, and looked back, though it
was only a casual glance, perhaps to measure the distance he had come,
and the three, standing among the dense bushes, had no fear that he
saw them or even suspected that anyone was on his traces. After a
delay of a minute or so he passed over the crest and Robert, Willet
and Tayoga moved on in pursuit. The Frenchman evidently knew his path,
as the chase led for a long time over hills, down valleys and across
small streams. Toward morning he put his fingers to his lips and blew
a shrill whistle between them. Then the three drew swiftly near
until they could see him, standing under the boughs of a great oak,
obviously in an attitude of waiting.

"It is a signal to someone," said Robert.

"So it is," said Willet, "and it means that he and we have come to
the end of our journey. I take it that we have arrived almost at the
French and Indian camp, and that he whistles because he fears lest he
should be shot by a sentinel through mistake. The reply should come
soon."

As the hunter spoke they heard a whistle, a faint, clear note far
ahead, and then Garay without hesitation resumed his journey. The
three followed, but when they reached the crest of the next ridge they
saw a light shining through the forest, a light that grew and finally
divided into many lights, disclosing to them with certainty the
presence of a camp. The figure of Garay appeared for a little while
outlined against a fire, another figure came forward to meet him, and
the two disappeared together.

From the direction of the fires came sounds subdued by the distance,
and the aroma of food.

"It is a large camp," said Tayoga. "I have counted twelve fires which
proves it, and the white men and the red men in it do not go hungry.
They have deer, bear, fish and birds also. The pleasant odors of them
all come to my nostrils, and make me hungry."

"That's too much for me," said Robert. "I can detect the blended
savor, but I know not of what it consists. Now we go on, I suppose,
and find out what this camp holds."

"We wouldn't dream of turning back," said the hunter. "Did you notice
anything familiar, Robert, about the figure that came forward to meet
Garay?"

"Now that you speak of it, I did, but I can't recall the identity of
the man."

"Think again!"

"Ah, now I have him! It was the French officer, Colonel Auguste de
Courcelles, who gave us so much trouble in Canada and elsewhere."

"That's the man," said Willet. "I knew him at once. Now, wherever De
Courcelles is mischief is likely to be afoot, but he's not the only
Frenchman here. We'll spy out this camp to the full. There's time yet
before the sunrise comes."

Now the three used all the skill in stalking with which they were
endowed so plentifully, creeping forward without noise through the
bushes, making so little stir among them that if a wary warrior had
been looking he would have taken the slight movement of twig or leaf
for the influence of a wandering breeze. Gradually the whole camp came
into view, and Tayoga's prediction that it would be a large one proved
true.

Robert lay on a little knoll among small bushes growing thick, where
the keenest eye could not see him, but where his own vision swept
the whole wide shallow dip, in which the French and Indian force was
encamped. Twelve fires, all good and large, burned gayly, throwing out
ruddy flames from great beds of glowing coals, while the aroma of food
was now much stronger and very appetizing.

The force numbered at least three hundred men, of whom about one third
were Frenchmen or Canadians, all in uniform. Robert recognized De
Courcelles and near him Jumonville, his invariable comrade, and a
little farther on a handsome and gallant young face.

"It's De Galissonnière of the Battalion Languedoc, whom we met in
Québec," he whispered to Tayoga. "Now I wonder what he's doing here."

"He's come with the others on a projected foray," Tayoga whispered
back. "But look beyond him, Dagaeoga, and you will see one more to be
dreaded than De Courcelles or Jumonville."

Robert's gaze followed that of the young Onondaga and was intercepted
by the huge figure of Tandakora, the Ojibway, who stood erect by one
of the fires, bare save for a breech cloth and moccasins, his body
painted in the most hideous designs, of which war paint was possible,
his brow lowering.

"Tandakora is not happy," said Tayoga.

"No," said Robert. "He is thinking of the battle at Lake George that
he did not win, and of all the scalps he did not take. He is thinking
of his lost warriors, and the rout of his people and the French."

"Even so, Dagaeoga. Now Tandakora and De Courcelles talk with the spy,
Garay. They want his news. They rejoice when he tells them Waraiyageh
and his soldiers still make no preparations to advance after their
victory by the lake. The long delay, the postponement of a big
campaign until next spring will give the French and Indians time to
breathe anew and renew their strength. Tandakora and De Courcelles
consider themselves fortunate, and they are pleased with the spy,
Garay. But look, Dagaeoga! Behold who comes now!"

Robert's heart began to throb as the handsomest and most gallant
figure of them all walked into the red glow of the firelight, a tall
man, young, lithe, athletic, fair of hair and countenance, his manner
at once graceful and proud, a man to whom the others turned with
deference, and perhaps in the case of De Courcelles and Jumonville
with a little fear. He wore a white uniform with gold facings, and
a small gold hilted sword swung upon his thigh. Even in the forest,
dress impresses, and Robert was quite sure that St. Luc was in his
finest attire, not from vanity, but because he wished to create an
effect. It would be like him, when his fortunes were lowest, to assume
his highest manner before both friend and foe.

"You'd think from his looks that he had nothing but a string of
victories and never knew defeat," whispered Willet. "Anyway, his is
the finest spirit in all that crowd, and he's the greatest leader
and soldier, too. Notice how they give way to him, and how they stop
asking questions of Garay, leaving it to him. And now Garay himself
bows low before him, while De Courcelles, Jumonville and Tandakora
stand aside. I wish we could hear what they say; then we might learn
something worth all our risk in coming here."

But their voices did not reach so great a distance, though the three,
eager to use eye even if ear was of no use, still lay in the bushes
and watched the flow of life in the great camp. Many of the French and
Indians who had been asleep awoke, sat up and began to cook breakfast
for themselves, holding strips of game on sharp sticks over the coals.
St. Luc talked a long while with Garay, afterward with the French
officers and Tandakora, and then withdrew to a little knoll, where he
leaned against a tree, his face expressing intense thought. A dark,
powerfully built man, the Canadian, Dubois, brought him food which he
ate mechanically.

The dusk floated away, and the sun came up, great and brilliant. The
three stirred in their covert, and Willet whispered that it was time
for them to be going.

"Only the most marvelous luck could save us from detection in the
daylight," he said, "because presently the Indians, growing restless,
will wander about the camp."

"I'm willing to go," Robert whispered back. "I know the danger is too
great. Besides I'm starving to death, and the odors of all their good
food will hasten my death, if I don't take an antidote."

They retreated with the utmost care and Robert drew an immense breath
of relief when they were a full mile away. It was well to look upon
the French and Indian camp, but it was better to be beyond the reach
of those who made it.

"And now we make a camp of our own, don't we?" he said. "All my bones
are stiff from so much bending and creeping. Moreover, my hunger has
grown to such violent pitch that it is tearing at me, so to speak,
with red hot pincers."

"Dagaeoga always has plenty of words," said Tayoga in a whimsical
tone, "but he will have to endure his hunger a while longer. Let the
pincers tear and burn. It is good for him. It will give him a chance
to show how strong he is, and how a mighty warrior despises such
little things as food and drink."

"I'm not anxious to show myself a mighty warrior just now," retorted
young Lennox. "I'd be willing to sacrifice my pride in that respect if
I could have carried off some of their bear steaks and venison."

"Come on," said Willet, "and I'll see that you're satisfied. I'm
beginning to feel as you do, Robert."

Nevertheless he marshaled them forward pretty sternly and they pursued
a westward course for many miles before he allowed a halt. Even then
they hunted about among the rocks until they found a secluded place,
no fire being permitted, at which it pleased Robert to grumble,
although he did not mean it.

"We were better off last night when we had our little fire in the
hollow," he said.

"So we were, as far as the body is concerned," rejoined Willet,
"but we didn't know then where the Indian camp lay. We've at least
increased our knowledge. Now, I'm thinking that you two lads, who have
been awake nearly all night and also the half of the morning that has
passed, ought to sleep. Time we have to spare, but you know we should
practice all the economy we can with our strength. This place is
pretty well hidden, and I'll do the watching. Spread your blankets on
the leaves, Robert. It's not well even for foresters to sleep on the
bare ground. Now draw the other half of it over you. Tayoga has done
so already. I'm wondering which of you will get to sleep first.
Whoever does will be the better man, a question I've long wanted to
decide."

But the problem was still left for the future. They fell asleep so
nearly at the same time that Willet could tell no difference. He
noticed with pleasure their long, regular breathing, and he said to
himself, as he had said so often before, that they were two good and
brave lads.

Then he made a very comfortable cushion of fallen leaves to sit upon,
and remained there a long time, his rifle across his knees.

His eyes were wide open, but no part of his body stirred. He had
acquired the gift of infinite patience, and with it the difficult
physical art of remaining absolutely motionless for a long time. So
thorough was his mastery over himself that the small wild game began
to believe by and by that he was not alive. Birds sang freely over his
head and the hare hopped through the undergrowth. Yet the hunter saw
everything and his very stillness enabled him to listen with all the
more acuteness.

The sun which had arisen great and brilliant, remained so, flooding
the world with golden lights and making it wonderfully alluring to
Willet, whose eyes never grew weary of the forest's varying shades and
aspects. They were all peaceful now, but he had no illusions. He knew
that the hostile force would send out many hunters. So many men must
have much game and presently they would be prowling through the woods,
seeking deer and bear. The chief danger came from them.

The hours passed and noon arrived. Willet had not stirred. He did
not sleep, but he rested nevertheless. His great body was relaxed
thoroughly, and strength, after weariness, flowed back into his veins.
Presently his head moved forward a little and his attitude grew more
intent. A slight sound that was not a part of the wilderness had come
to him. It was very faint, few would have noticed it, but he knew it
was the report of a rifle. He knew also that it was not a shot fired
in battle. The hunters, as he had surmised, were abroad, and they had
started up a deer or a bear.

But Willet did not stir nor did his eyelids flicker. He was used to
the proximity of foes, and the distant report did not cause his heart
to miss a single beat. Instead, he felt a sort of dry amusement that
they should be so near and yet know it not. How Tandakora would have
rejoiced if there had been a whisper in his ear that Willet, Robert
and Tayoga whom he hated so much were within sound of his rifle! And
how he would have spread his nets to catch such precious game!

He heard a second shot presently from the other side, and then the
hunter began to laugh softly to himself. His faint amusement was
turning into actual and intense enjoyment. The Indian hunters were
obviously on every side of them but did not dream that the finest game
of all was at hand. They would continue to waste their time on deer
and bear while the three formidable rangers were within hearing of
their guns.

But the hunter was still silent. His laughter was wholly internal, and
his lips did not even move. It showed only in his eye and the general
expression of his countenance. A third shot and a fourth came, but no
anxiety marred his sense of the humorous.

Then he heard the distant shouts of warriors in pursuit of a wounded
bear and still he was motionless.

Willet knew that the French and Tandakora suspected no pursuit. They
believed that no American rangers would come among the lofty peaks and
ridges south of the border, and he and his comrades could lie in safe
hiding while the hunt went on with unabated zeal. But he was sure one
day would be sufficient for the task. That portion of the wilderness
was full of game, and, since the coming of the war, deer and bear were
increasing rapidly. Willet often noted how quickly game returned to
regions abandoned by man, as if the wild animals promptly told one
another the danger had passed.

Joyous shouts came now and then and he knew that they marked the
taking of game, but about the middle of the afternoon the hunt drifted
entirely away. A little later Tayoga awoke and sat up. Then Willet
moved slightly and spoke.

"Tandakora's hunters have been all about us while you slept," he said,
"but I knew they wouldn't find us."

"Dagaeoga and I were safe in the care of the Great Bear," said the
Onondaga confidently. "Tandakora will rage if we tell him some day
that we were here, to be taken if he had only seen us. Now Lennox
awakes also! O Dagaeoga, you have slept and missed all the great
jest."

"What do you mean, Tayoga?"

"Tandakora built his fire just beyond the big bush that grows ten feet
away, and sat there two hours without suspecting our presence here."

"Now I know you are romancing, Tayoga, because I can see the twinkle
in your eyes. But I suspect that what you say bears some remote
relation to the truth."

"The hostile hunters passed while you slept, and while I slept also,
but the Great Bear was all eyes and ears and he did not think it
needful to awaken us."

"What are we going to do now, Dave?"

"Eat more venison. We must never fail to keep the body strong."

"And then?"

"I'm not sure. I thought once that we'd better go south to our army at
Lake George with news of this big band, but it's a long distance down
there, and it may be wiser to stay here and watch St. Luc. What do you
say, Robert?"

"Stay here."

"And you, Tayoga?"

"Watch St. Luc."

"I was inclining to that view myself, and it's settled now. But we
mustn't move from this place until dark; it would be too dangerous in
the day."

The lads nodded and the three settled into another long period of
waiting.




CHAPTER II


ON THE RIDGES

Late in the afternoon Willet went to sleep and Robert and Tayoga
watched, although, as the hunter had done, they depended more upon
ear than eye. They too heard now and then the faint report of distant
shots from the hunt, and Robert's heart beat very fast, but, if the
young Onondaga felt emotion, he did not show it. At twilight, they
ate a frugal supper, and when the night had fully come they rose and
walked about a little to make their stiffened muscles elastic again.

"The hunters have all gone back to the camp now," said Tayoga, "since
it is not easy to pursue the game by dusk, and we need not keep so
close, like a bear in its den."

"And the danger of our being seen is reduced to almost nothing," said
Robert.

"It is so, Dagaeoga, but we will have another fight to make. We must
strive to keep ourselves from freezing. It turns very cold on the
mountains! The wind is now blowing from the north, and do you not feel
a keener edge to it?"

"I do," replied Robert, sensitive of body as well as mind, and he
shivered as he spoke. "It's a most unfortunate change for us. But now
that I think of it we've got to expect it up among the high mountains
toward Canada. Shall we light another fire?"

"We'll talk of that later with the Great Bear when he comes out of his
sleep. But it fast grows colder and colder, Dagaeoga!"

Weather was an enormous factor in the lives of the borderers.
Wilderness storms and bitter cold often defeated their best plans, and
shelterless men, they were in a continual struggle against them. And
here in the far north, among the high peaks and ridges, there was much
to be feared, even with official winter yet several weeks away.

Robert began to rub his cold hands, and, unfolding his blanket, he
wrapped it about his body, drawing it well up over his neck and ears.
Tayoga imitated him and Willet, who was soon awakened by the cold
blast, protected himself in a similar manner.

"What does the Great Bear think?" asked the Onondaga.

The hunter, with his face to the wind, meditated a few moments before
replying.

"I was testing that current of air on my face and eyes," he said,
"and, speaking the truth, Tayoga, I don't like it. The wind seemed to
grow colder as I waited to answer you. Listen to the leaves falling
before it! Their rustle tells of a bitter night."

"And while we freeze in it," said Robert, whose imagination was
already in full play, "the French and Indians build as many and big
fires as they please, and cook before them the juicy game they killed
today."

The hunter was again very thoughtful.

"It looks as if we would have to kindle a fire," he said, "and
tomorrow we shall have to hunt bear or deer for ourselves, because we
have food enough left for only one more meal."

"The face of Areskoui is turned from us," said Tayoga. "We have done
something to anger him, or we have failed to do what he wished, and
now he sends upon us a hard trial to test us and purify us! A great
storm with fierce cold comes!"

The wind rose suddenly, and it began to make a sinister hissing among
all the passes and gorges. Robert felt something damp upon his face,
and he brushed away a melting flake of snow. But another and another
took its place and the air was soon filled with white. And the flakes
were most aggressive. Driven by the storm they whipped the cheeks
and eyes of the three, and sought to insert themselves, often with
success, under their collars, even under the edges of the protecting
blankets, and down their backs. Robert, despite himself, shivered
violently and even the hunter was forced to walk vigorously back and
forth in the effort to keep warm. It was evident that the Onondaga had
told the truth, and that the face of Areskoui was in very fact turned
from them.

Robert awaited the word, looking now and then at Willet, but the
hunter hung on for a long time. The leaves fell in showers before the
storm, making a faint rustling like the last sigh of the departing,
and the snow, driven with so much force, stung his face like hail when
it struck. He was anxious for a fire, and its vital heat, but he was
too proud to speak. He would endure without complaint as much as his
comrades, and he knew that Tayoga, like himself, would wait for the
older man to speak.

But he could not keep, meanwhile, from thinking of the French and
Indians beside their vast heaps of glowing coals, fed and warmed to
their hearts' content, while the three lay in the dark and bitter cold
of the wilderness. An hour dragged by, then two, then three, but the
storm showed no sign of abating. The sinister screaming of the wind
did not cease and the snow accumulated upon their bodies. At last
Willet said:

"We must do it."

"We have no other choice," said Tayoga. "We have waited as long as we
could to see if Areskoui would turn a favoring face upon us, but his
anger holds. It will not avail, if in our endeavor to escape the
tomahawk of Tandakora, we freeze to death."

The fire decided upon, they took all risks and went about the task
with eagerness. Ordinary men could not have lighted it under such
circumstances, but the three had uncommon skill upon which to draw.
They took the bark from dead wood, and shaved off many splinters,
building up a little heap in the lee of a cliff, which they sheltered
on the windward side with their bodies. Then Willet, working a long
time with his flint and steel, set to it the sparks that grew into a
blaze.

Robert did not stop with the fire. Noticing the vast amount of dead
wood lying about, as was often the case in the wilderness, he dragged
up many boughs and began to build a wall on the exposed side of the
flames. Willet and Tayoga approving of the idea soon helped him, and
three pairs of willing hands quickly raised the barrier of trunks and
brush to a height of at least a yard.

"A happy idea of yours, Robert," said the hunter. "Now we achieve two
ends at once. Our wall hides the glow of the fire and at the same time
protects us in large measure from the snow and wind."

"I have bright thoughts now and then," said Robert, whose spirits had
returned in full tide. "You needn't believe you and Tayoga have all
of 'em. I don't believe either of you would have ever thought of this
fine wooden wall. In truth, Dave, I don't know what would become of
you and Tayoga if you didn't have me along with you most all the
time! How good the fire feels! The warmth touches my fingers and goes
stealing up my arms and into my body! It reaches my face too and
goes stealing down to meet the fine heat that makes a channel of my
fingers! A glorious fire, Tayoga! I tell you, a glorious fire, Dave!
The finest fire that's burning anywhere in the world!"

"The quality of a fire depends on the service it gives," said the
hunter.

"Dagaeoga has many words when he is happy," said the Onondaga. "His
tongue runs on like the pleasant murmur of a brook, but he does it
because Manitou made him that way. The world must have talkers as
well as doers, and it can be said for Lennox that he acts as well as
talks."

"Thanks, I'm glad you put in the saving clause," laughed Robert. "But
it's a mighty good thing we built our wooden wall. That wind would cut
to the bone if it could get at you."

"The wind at least will keep the warriors away," said Tayoga. "They
will all stay close in the camp on such a night."

"And no blame to them," murmured the hunter. "If we weren't in the
Indian country I'd build our own fire five times as big. Now, Robert,
suppose you go to sleep."

"I can't, Dave. You know I slept all the morning, but I'm not
suffering from dullness. I'm imagining things. I'm imagining how much
worse off we'd be if we didn't have flint and steel. I can always find
pleasure in making such contrasts."

But he crouched down lower against the cliff, drew his blanket closer
and spread both hands over the fire, which had now died down into a
glowing mass of coals. He was wondering what they would do on the
morrow, when their food was exhausted. They had not only the storm to
fight, but possible starvation in the days to come. He foresaw that
instead of discovering all the plans of the enemy they would have a
struggle merely to live.

"Areskoui must truly be against us, Tayoga," he said. "Who would have
predicted such a storm so early in the season?"

"We are several thousand feet above the sea level," said Willet, "and
that will account for the violent change. I think the wind and snow
will last all tonight, and probably all tomorrow."

"Then," said Robert, "we'd better gather more wood, build our wall
higher and save ample fuel for the fire."

The other two found the suggestion good, and all three acted upon
it promptly, ranging through the forest about them in search of
brushwood, which they brought back in great quantities. Robert's blood
began to tingle with the activity, and his spirits rose. Now the snow,
as it drove against his face, instead of making him shiver, whipped
his blood. He was the most energetic of the three, and went the
farthest, in the hunt for fallen timber.

One of his trips took him into the mouth of a little gorge, and, as
he bent down to seize the end of a big stick, he heard just ahead a
rustling that caused him with instinctive caution to straighten up and
spring back, his hand, at the same time, flying to the butt of the
pistol in his belt. A figure, tall and menacing, emerged from the
darkness, and he retreated two or three steps.

It was his first thought that a warrior stood before him, but reason
told him quickly no Indian was likely to be there, and, then, through
the thick dusk and falling snow, he saw a huge black bear, erect on
his hind legs, and looking at him with little red eyes. The animal was
so near that the lad could see his expression, and it was not anger
but surprise and inquiry. He divined at once that this particular bear
had never seen a human being before, and, having been roused from some
warm den by Robert's advance, he was asking what manner of creature
the stranger and intruder might be.

Robert's first impulse was one of friendliness. It did not occur to
him to shoot the bear, although the big fellow, fine and fat, would
furnish all the meat they needed for a long time. Instead his large
blue eyes gave back the curious gaze of the little red ones, and, for
a little space, the two stood there, face to face, with no thought of
danger or attack on the part of either.

"If you'll let me alone I'll let you alone," said the lad.

The bear growled, but it was a kindly, reassuring growl.

"I didn't mean to disturb you. I was looking for wood, not for bear."

Another growl, but of a thoroughly placid nature.

"Go wherever you please and I'll return to the camp with this fallen
sapling."

A third growl, now ingratiating.

"It's a cold night, with fire and shelter the chief needs, and you and
I wouldn't think of fighting."

A fourth growl which clearly disclosed the note of friendship and
understanding.

"We're in agreement, I see. Good night, I wish you well."

A fifth growl, which had the tone of benevolent farewell, and the
bear, dropping on all fours, disappeared in the brush. Robert, whose
fancy had been alive and leaping, returned to the camp rather pleased
with himself, despite the fact that about three hundred pounds of
excellent food had walked away undisturbed.

"I ran upon a big bear," he said to the hunter and the Onondaga.

"I heard no shot," said Willet.

"No, I didn't fire. Neither my impulse nor my will told me to do so.
The bear looked at me in such brotherly fashion that I could never
have sent a bullet into him. I'd rather go hungry."

Neither Willet nor Tayoga had any rebuke for him.

"Doubtless the soul of a good warrior had gone into the bear and
looked out at you," said the Onondaga with perfect sincerity. "It is
sometimes so. It is well that you did not fire upon him or the face of
Areskoui would have remained turned from us too long."

"That's just the way I felt about it," said Robert, who had great
tolerance for Iroquois beliefs. "His eyes seemed fully human to me,
and, although I had my pistol in my belt and my hand when I first saw
him flew to its butt, I made no attempt to draw it. I have no regrets
because I let him go."

"Nor have we," said Willet. "Now I think we can afford to rest again.
We can build our wall six feet high if we want to and have wood enough
left over to feed a fire for several days."

The two lads, the white and the red, crouched once more in the lee of
the cliff, while the hunter put two fresh sticks on the coals. But
little of the snow reached them where they lay, wrapped well in their
blankets, and all care disappeared from Robert's mind. Inured to the
wilderness he ignored what would have been discomfort to others. The
trails they had left in the snow when they hunted wood would soon be
covered up by the continued fall, and for the night, at least, there
would be no danger from the warriors. He felt an immense comfort and
security, and by-and-by fell asleep again. Tayoga soon followed him to
slumberland, and Willet once more watched alone.

Tayoga relieved Willet about two o'clock in the morning, but they did
not awaken Robert at all in the course of the night. They knew that he
would upbraid them for not summoning him to do his share, but there
would be abundant chance for him to serve later on as a sentinel.

The Onondaga did not arouse his comrades until long past daylight, and
then they opened their eyes to a white world, clear and cold. The snow
had ceased falling, but it lay several inches deep on the ground, and
all the leaves had been stripped from the trees, on the high point
where they lay. The coals still glowed, and they heated over them
the last of their venison and bear meat, which they ate with keen
appetite, and then considered what they must do, concluding at last to
descend into the lower country and hunt game.

"We can do nothing at present so far as the war is concerned," said
Willet. "An army must eat before it can fight, but it's likely that
the snow and cold will stop the operations of the French and Indians
also. While we're saving our own lives other operations will be
delayed, and later on we may find Garay going back."

"It is best to go down the mountain and to the south," said Tayoga, in
his precise school English. "It may be that the snow has fallen only
on the high peaks and ridges. Then we'll be sure to find game, and
perhaps other food which we can procure without bullets."

"Do you think we'd better move now?" asked Robert.

"We must send out a scout first," said Willet.

It was agreed that Tayoga should go, and in about two hours he
returned with grave news. The warriors were out again, hunting in the
snow, and although unconscious of it themselves they formed an almost
complete ring about the three, a ring which they must undertake to
break through now in full daylight, and with the snow ready to leave a
broad trail of all who passed.

"They would be sure to see our path," said Tayoga. "Even the short
trail I made when I went forth exposes us to danger, and we must trust
to luck that they will not see it. There is nothing for us to do, but
to remain hidden here, until the next night comes. It is quite certain
that the face of Areskoui is still turned from us. What have we done
that is displeasing to the Sun God?"

"I can't recall anything," said Robert.

"Perhaps it is not what we have done but what we have failed to do,
though whatever it is Areskoui has willed that we lie close another
day."

"And starve," said Robert ruefully.

"And starve," repeated the Onondaga.

The three crouched once more under the lee of the cliff, but toward
noon they built their wooden wall another foot higher, driven to the
work by the threatening aspect of the sky, which turned to a somber
brown. The wind sprang up again, and it had an edge of damp.

"Soon it will rain," said Tayoga, "and it will be a bitter cold rain.
Much of the snow will melt and then freeze again, coating the earth
with ice. It will make it more difficult for us to travel and the
hunting that we need so much must be delayed. Then we'll grow hungrier
and hungrier."

"Stop it, Tayoga," exclaimed Robert. "I believe you're torturing me on
purpose. I'm hungry now."

"But that is nothing to what Dagaeoga will be tonight, after he has
gone many hours without food. Then he will think of the juicy venison,
and of the tender steak of the young bear, and of the fine fish from
the mountain streams, and he will remember how he has enjoyed them in
the past, but it will be only a memory. The fish that he craves will
be swimming in the clear waters, and the deer and the bear will be far
away, safe from his bullet."

"I didn't know you had so much malice in your composition, Tayoga, but
there's one consolation; if I suffer you suffer also."

The Onondaga laughed.

"It will give Dagaeoga a chance to test himself," he said. "We know
already that he is brave in battle and skillful on the trail, and now
we will see how he can sit for days and nights without anything to
eat, and not complain. He will be a hero, he will draw in his belt
notch by notch, and never say a word."

"That will do, Tayoga," interrupted the hunter. "While you play upon
Robert's nerves you play upon mine also, and they tell me you've said
enough. Actually I'm beginning to feel famished."

Tayoga laughed once more.

"While I jest with you I jest also with myself," he said. "Now we'll
sleep, since there is nothing else to do."

He drew his blanket up to his eyes, leaned against the stony wall and
slept. Robert could not imitate him. As the long afternoon, one of the
longest he had ever known, trailed its slow length away, he studied
the forest in front of them, where the cold and mournful rain was
still falling, a rain that had at least one advantage, as it had long
since obliterated all traces of a trail left by Tayoga on his scouting
expedition, although search as he would he could find no other profit
in it.

Night came, the rain ceased, and, as Tayoga had predicted, the intense
cold that arrived with the dark, froze it quickly, covering the earth
with a hard and polished glaze, smoother and more treacherous than
glass. It was impossible for the present to undertake flight over
such a surface, with a foe naturally vigilant at hand, and they made
themselves as comfortable as they could, while they awaited another
day. Now Robert began to draw in his belt, while a hunger that was
almost too fierce to be endured assailed him. His was a strong body,
demanding much nourishment, and it cried out to him for relief. He
tried to forget in sleep that he was famished, but he only dozed a
while to awaken to a hunger more poignant than ever.

Yet he said never a word, but, as the night with its illimitable hours
passed, he grew defiant of difficulties and dangers, all of which
became but little things in presence of his hunger. It was his impulse
to storm the Indian camp itself and seize what he wanted of the
supplies there, but his reason told him the thought was folly. Then he
tried to forget about the steaks of bear and deer, and the delicate
little fish from the mountain stream that Tayoga had mentioned, but
they would return before his eyes with so much vividness that he
almost believed he saw them in reality.

Dawn came again, and they had now been twenty-four hours without food.
The pangs of hunger were assailing all three fiercely, but they did
not yet dare go forth, as the morning was dark and gloomy, with a
resumption of the fierce, driving rain, mingled with hail, which
rattled now and then like bullets on their wooden wall.

Robert shivered in his blanket, not so much from actual cold as from
the sinister aspect of the world, and his sensitive imagination,
which always pictured both good and bad in vivid colors, foresaw the
enormous difficulties that would confront them. Hunger tore at him,
as with the talons of a dragon, and he felt himself growing weak,
although his constitution was so strong that the time for a decline in
vitality had not yet really come. He was all for going forth in the
storm and seeking game in the slush and cold, ignoring the French and
Indian danger. But he knew the hunter and the Onondaga would not hear
to it, and so he waited in silence, hot anger swelling in his heart
against the foes who kept him there. Unable to do anything else, he
finally closed his eyes that he might shut from his view the gray and
chilly world that was so hostile.

"Is Areskoui turning his face toward us, Tayoga?" he asked after a
long wait.

"No, Dagaeoga. Our unknown sin is not yet expiated. The day grows
blacker, colder and wetter."

"And I grow hungrier and hungrier. If we kill deer or bear we must
kill three of each at the same time, because I intend to eat one all
by myself, and I demand that he be large and fat, too. I suppose we'll
go out of this place some time or other."

"Yes, Dagaeoga."

"Then we'd better make up our minds to do it before it's too late. I
feel my nerves and tissues decaying already."

"It's only your fancy, Dagaeoga. You can exist a week without food."

"A week, Tayoga! I don't want to exist a week without food! I
absolutely refuse to do so!"

"The choice is not yours, now, O Dagaeoga. The greatest gift you can
have is patience. The warrior, Daatgadose, of the clan of the Bear, of
the nation Onondaga, of the great League of the Hodenosaunee, even
as I am, hemmed in by enemies in the forest, and with his powder and
bullets gone, lay in hiding ten days without food once passing his
lips, and took no lasting hurt from it. You, O Dagaeoga, will
surely do as well, and I can give you many other examples for your
emulation."

"Stop, Tayoga. Sometimes I'm sorry you speak such precise English. If
you didn't you couldn't have so much sport with a bad situation."

The Onondaga laughed deeply and with unction. He knew that Robert was
not complaining, that he merely talked to fill in the time, and he
went on with stories of illustrious warriors and chiefs among his
people who had literally defied hunger and thirst and who had lived
incredible periods without either food or water. Willet listened in
silence, but with approval. He knew that any kind of talk would cheer
them and strengthen them for the coming test which was bound to be
severe.

Feeling that no warriors would be within sight at such a time they
built their fire anew and hovered over the flame and the coals,
drawing a sort of sustenance from the warmth. But when the day was
nearly gone and there was no change in the sodden skies Robert
detected in himself signs of weakness that he knew were not the
product of fancy. Every inch of his healthy young body cried out for
food, and, not receiving it, began to rebel and lose vigor.

Again he was all for going forth and risking everything, and he
noticed with pleasure that the hunter began to shift about and to peer
into the forest as if some plan for action was turning in his mind.
But he said nothing, resolved to leave it all to Tayoga and Willet,
and by-and-by, in the dark, to which his eyes had grown accustomed, he
saw the two exchanging glances. He was able to read these looks.
The hunter said: "We must try it. The time has come." The Onondaga
replied: "Yes, it is not wise to wait longer, lest we grow too feeble
for a great effort." The hunter rejoined: "Then it is agreed," and the
Onondaga said: "If our comrade thinks so too." Both turned their eyes
to young Lennox who said aloud: "It's what I've been waiting for a
long time. The sooner we leave the better pleased I'll be."

"Then," said Willet, "in an hour we'll start south, going down the
trail between the high cliffs, and we'll trust that either we've
expiated our sin, whatever it was, or that Areskoui has forgiven us.
It will be terrible traveling, but we can't wait any longer."

They wrapped their blankets about their bodies as additional covering,
and, at the time appointed, left their rude shelter. Yet when they
were away from its protection it did not seem so rude. When their
moccasins sank in the slush and the snow and rain beat upon their
faces, it was remembered as the finest little shelter in the world.
The bodies of all three regretted it, but their wills and dire
necessity sent them on.

The hunter led, young Lennox followed and Tayoga came last, their feet
making a slight sighing sound as they sank in the half-melted snow and
ice now several inches deep. Robert wore fine high moccasins of tanned
mooseskin, much stronger and better than ordinary deerskin, but before
long he felt the water entering them and chilling him to the bone.
Nevertheless, keeping his resolution in mind, and, knowing that the
others were in the same plight, he made no complaint but trudged
steadily on, three or four feet behind Willet, who chose the way that
now led sharply downward. Once more he realized what an enormous
factor changes in temperature were in the lives of borderers and how
they could defeat supreme forethought and the greatest skill. Winter
with its snow and sleet was now the silent but none the less potent
ally of the French and Indians in preventing their escape.

They toiled on two or three miles, not one of the three speaking. The
sleet and hail thickened. In spite of the blanket and the deerskin
tunic it made its way along his neck and then down his shoulders and
chest, the chill that went downward meeting the chill that came upward
from his feet, now almost frozen. He could not recall ever before
having been so miserable of both mind and body. He did not know it
just then, but the lack of nourishment made him peculiarly susceptible
to mental and physical depression. The fires of youth were not burning
in his veins, and his vitality had been reduced at least one half.

Now, that terrible hunger, although he had striven to fight it,
assailed him once more, and his will weakened slowly. What were those
tales Tayoga had been telling about men going a week or ten days
without food? They were clearly incredible. He had been less than two
days without it, and his tortures were those of a man at the stake.

Willet's eyes, from natural keenness and long training, were able to
pierce the dusk and he showed the way, steep and slippery though it
was, with infallible certainty. They were on a lower slope, where by
some freak of the weather there was snow instead of slush, when he
bent down and examined the path with critical and anxious eyes. Robert
and Tayoga waited in silence, until the hunter straightened up again.
Then he said:

"A war party has gone down the pass ahead of us. There were about
twenty men in it, and it's not more than two hours beyond us. Whether
it's there to cut us off, or has moved by mere chance, I don't know,
but the effect is just the same. If we keep on we'll run into it."

"Suppose we try the ascent and get out over the ridges," said Robert.

Willet looked up at the steep and lofty slopes on either side.

"It's tremendously bad footing," he replied, "and will take heavy toll
of our strength, but I see no other way. It would be foolish for us to
go on and walk straight into the hands of our enemies. What say you,
Tayoga?"

"There is but a single choice and that a desperate one. We must try
the summits."

They delayed no longer, and, Willet still leading, began the frightful
climb, choosing the westward cliff which towered above them a
full four hundred feet, and, like the one that faced it, almost
precipitous. Luckily many evergreens grew along the slope and using
them as supports they toiled slowly upward. Now and then, in spite of
every precaution, they sent down heaps of snow that rumbled as it
fell into the pass. Every time one of these miniature avalanches fell
Robert shivered. His fancy, so vitally alive, pictured savages in the
pass, attracted by the noise, and soon to fire at his helpless figure,
outlined against the slope.

"Can't you go a little faster?" he said to Willet, who was just ahead.

"It wouldn't be wise," replied the hunter. "We mustn't risk a fall.
But I know why you want to hurry on, Robert. It's the fear of being
shot in the back as you climb. I feel it too, but it's only fancy with
both of us."

Robert said no more, but, calling upon his will, bent his mind to
their task. Above him was the dusky sky and the summit seemed to tower
a mile away, but he knew that it was only sixty or seventy yards now,
and he took his luxurious imagination severely in hand. At such a time
he must deal only in realities and he subjected all that he saw to
mathematical calculation. Sixty or seventy yards must be sixty or
seventy yards only and not a mile.

After a time that seemed interminable Willet's figure disappeared over
the cliff, and, with a gasp, Robert followed, Tayoga coming swiftly
after. The three were so tired, their vitality was so reduced that
they lay down in the snow, and drew long, painful breaths. When some
measure of strength was restored they stood up and surveyed the place
where they stood, a bleak summit over which the wind blew sharply.
Nothing grew there but low bushes, and they felt that, while they may
have escaped the war band, their own physical case was worse instead
of better. Both cold and wind were more severe and a bitter hail beat
upon them. It was obvious that Areskoui did not yet forgive, although
it must surely be a sin of ignorance, of omission and not of
commission, with the equal certainty that a sin of such type could not
be unforgivable for all time.

"We seem to be on a ridge that runs for a great distance," said
Tayoga. "Suppose we continue along the comb of it. At least we cannot
make ourselves any worse off than we are now."

They toiled on, now and then falling on the slippery trail, their
vitality sinking lower and lower. Occasionally they had glimpses of a
vast desolate region under a somber sky, peaks and ridges and slopes
over which clouds hovered, the whole seeming to resent the entry of
man and to offer to him every kind of resistance.

Robert was now wet through and through. No part of his body had
escaped and he knew that his vitality was at such a low ebb that at
least seventy-five per cent, of it was gone. He wanted to stop, his
cold and aching limbs cried out for rest, and he craved heat at the
cost of every risk, but his will was still firm, and he would not be
the first to speak. It was Willet who suggested when they came to a
slight dip that they make an effort to build a fire.

"The human body, no matter how strong it may be naturally, and how
much it may be toughened by experience, will stand only so much," he
said.

They were constantly building fires in the wilderness, but the fire
they built that morning was the hardest of them all to start. They
selected, as usual, the lee of a rocky uplift, and, then by the
patient use of flint and steel, and, after many failures, they
kindled a blaze that would last. But in their reduced state the labor
exhausted them, and it was some time before they drew any life from
the warmth. When the circulation had been restored somewhat they piled
on more wood, taking the chance of being seen. They even went so far
as to build a second fire, that they might sit between the two and dry
themselves more rapidly. Then they waited in silence the coming of the
dawn.




CHAPTER III


THE BRAVE DEFENSE

Robert hoped for a fair morning. Surely Areskoui would relent now! But
the sun that crept languidly up the horizon was invisible to them,
hidden by a dark curtain of clouds that might shed, at any moment,
torrents of rain or hail or snow. The whole earth swam in chilly
damp. Banks of cold fog filled the valleys and gorges, and shreds and
patches of it floated along the peaks and ridges. The double fires had
dried his clothing and had sent warmth into his veins, increasing his
vitality somewhat, but it was far below normal nevertheless. He had an
immense aversion to further movement. He wanted to stay there between
the coals, awaiting passively whatever fate might have for him.
Somehow, his will to make an effort and live seemed to have gone.

While weakness grew upon him and he drooped by the fire, he did not
feel hunger, but it was only a passing phase. Presently the desire for
food that had gnawed at him with sharp teeth came back, and with it
his wish to do, like one stirred into action by pain. Hunger itself
was a stimulus and his sinking vitality was arrested in its decline.
He looked around eagerly at the sodden scene, but it certainly held
out little promise of game. Deer and bear would avoid those steeps,
and range in the valleys. But the will to action, stimulated back to
life, remained. However comfortable it was between the fires they must
not stay there to perish.

"Why don't we go on?" he said to Willet.

"I'm glad to hear you ask that question," replied the hunter.

"Why, Dave?"

"Because it shows that you haven't given up. If you've got the courage
to leave such a warm and dry place you've got the courage also to make
another fight for life. And you were the first to speak, too, Robert."

"We must go on," said Tayoga. "But it is best to throw slush over the
fire and hide our traces."

The task finished they took up their vague journey, going they knew
not where, but knowing that they must go somewhere, their uncertain
way still leading along the crests of narrow ridges, across shallow
dips and through drooping forests, where the wind moaned miserably. At
intervals, it rained or snowed or hailed and once more they were wet
through and through. The recrudescence of Robert's strength was a mere
flare-up. His vitality ebbed again, and not even the fierce gnawing
hunger that refused to depart could stimulate it. By-and-by he began
to stumble, but Tayoga and Willet, who noticed it, said nothing--they
staggered at times themselves. They toiled on for hours in silence,
but, late in the afternoon, Robert turned suddenly to the Onondaga.

"Do you remember, Tayoga," he said, "something you said to me a couple
of days since, or was it a week, or maybe a month ago? I seem to
remember time very uncertainly, but you were talking about repasts,
banquets, Lucullan banquets, more gorgeous banquets than old Nero had,
and they say he was king of epicures. I think you spoke of tender
venison, and juicy bear steaks, and perhaps of a delicate broiled
trout from one of these clear mountain streams. Am I not right,
Tayoga? Didn't you mention viands? And perhaps you may still be
thinking of them?"

"I _am_, Dagaeoga. I am thinking of them all the time. I confess to
you that I am so hungry I could gnaw the inside of the fresh bark upon
a tree, and if I were turned loose upon a deer, slain and cooked, I
could eat him all from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail."

"Stop, you boys," said Willet sternly. "You only aggravate your
sufferings. Isn't that a valley to the right, Tayoga, and don't you
catch the gleam of a little lake among its trees?"

"It is a valley, Great Bear, and there _is_ a small lake in the
center. We will go there. Perhaps we can catch fish."

Hope sprang up in Robert's heart. Fish? Why, of course there were fish
in all the mountain lakes! and they never failed to carry hooks and
lines in their packs. Bait could be found easily under the rocks.
He did not conceal his eagerness to descend into the valley and the
others were not less forward than he.

The valley was about half a square mile in area, of which the lake in
the center occupied one-fourth, the rest being in dense forest.
The three soon had their lines in water, and they waited full of
anticipation, but they waited in vain until long after night had come.
Not one of the three received a bite. The lines floated idly.

"Every lake in the mountains except one is full of fish--except one!"
exclaimed Robert bitterly, "and this is the one!"

"No, it is not that," said Tayoga gravely. "It means that the face
of Areskoui is still turned from us, that the good Sun God does not
relent for our unknown sin. We must have offended him deeply that he
should remain angry with us so long. This lake is swarming with fish,
like the others of the mountains, but he has willed that not one
should hang upon our hooks. Why waste time?"

He drew his line from the water, wound it up carefully and replaced
it in his pack. The others, after a fruitless wait, imitated him,
convinced that he was right. Then, after infinite pains, as before,
they built two fires again, and slept between them. But the next
morning all three were weak. Their vitality had declined fast in the
night, and the situation became critical in the extreme.

"We must find food or we die," said Willet. "We might linger a long
time, but soon we won't have the strength to hunt, and then it would
only be a question of when the wolves took us."

"I can hear them howling now on the slopes," said Tayoga. "They know
we are here, and that our strength is declining. They will not face
our rifles, but will wait until we are too weak to use them."

"What is your plan, Dave?" asked Robert.

"There must be game on the slopes. What say you, Tayoga?"

"If Areskoui has willed for game to be there it will be there. He
will even send it to us. And perhaps he has decided that he has now
punished us enough."

"It certainly won't hurt for us to try, and perhaps we'd better
separate. Robert, you go west; Tayoga, you take the eastern slopes,
and I'll hunt toward the north. By night we'll all be back at this
spot, full-handed or empty-handed, as it may be, but full-handed, I
hope."

He spoke cheerfully, and the others responded in like fashion. Action
gave them a mental and physical tonic, and bracing their weak bodies
they started in the direction allotted to each. Robert forgot, for a
little while, the terrible hunger that seemed to be preying upon his
very fiber, and, as he started away, showed an elasticity and buoyancy
of which he could not have dreamed himself capable five minutes
before.

Westward stretched forest, lofty in the valley, high on the slopes and
everywhere dense. He plunged into it, and then looked back. Tayoga and
Willet were already gone from his sight, seeking what he sought. Their
experience in the wilderness was greater than his, and they were
superior to him in trailing, but he was very hopeful that it would be
his good fortune to find the game they needed so badly, the game they
must have soon, in truth, or perish.

The valley was deep in slush and mire, and the water soaked through
his leggings and moccasins again, but he paid no attention to it now.
His new courage and strength lasted. Glancing up at the heavens he
beheld a little rift in the western clouds. A bar of light was
let through, and his mind, so imaginative, so susceptible to the
influences of earth and air, at once saw it as an omen. It was a
pillar of fire to him, and his faith was confirmed.

"Areskoui is turning back his face, and he smiles upon us," he said to
himself. Then looking carefully to his rifle, he held it ready for an
instant shot.

He came to the westward edge of the valley, and found the slope before
him gentle but rocky. He paused there a while in indecision, and,
then glancing up again at the bar of light that had grown broader, he
murmured, so much had he imbibed the religion and philosophy of the
Iroquois:

"O Areskoui, direct me which way to go."

The reply came, almost like a whisper in his ear:

"Try the rocks."

It always seemed to him that it was a real whisper, not his own mind
prompting him, and he walked boldly among the rocks which stretched
for a long distance along the slopes. Then, or for the time, at least,
he felt sure that a powerful hand was directing him. He saw tracks in
the soft soil between the strong uplifts and he believed that they
were fresh. Hollows were numerous there, and game of a certain kind
would seek them in bitter weather.

His heart began to pound hard, too heavily, in fact, for his weakened
frame, and he was compelled to stop and steady himself. Then he
resumed the hunt once more, looking here and there between the rocky
uplifts and in the deep depressions. He lost the tracks and then
he found them, apparently fresher than ever. Would he take what he
sought? Was the face of Areskoui still inclining toward him? He looked
up and the bar of light was steadily growing broader and longer. The
smile of the Sun God was deeper, and his doubts went away, one by one.

He turned toward a tall rock and a black figure sprang up, stared at
him a moment or two, and then undertook to run away. Robert's rifle
leaped to his shoulder, and, at a range so short that he could not
miss, he pulled the trigger. The animal went down, shot through the
heart, and then, silently exulting, young Lennox stood over him.

Areskoui had, in truth, been most kind. It was a young bear, nearly
grown, very fat, and, as Robert well knew, very tender also. Here was
food, splendid food, enough to last them many days, and he rejoiced.
Then he was in a quandary. He could not carry the bear away, and while
he could cut him up, he was loath to leave any part of him there. The
wolves would soon be coming, insisting upon their share, but he was
resolved they should have none.

He put his fingers over his mouth and blew between them a whistle,
long, shrill and piercing, a sound that penetrated farther than
the rifle shot. It was answered presently in a faint note from the
opposite slope, and, then sitting down, he waited patiently. He knew
that Tayoga and Willet would come, and, after a while, they appeared,
striding eagerly through the forest. Then Robert rose, his heart full
of gratitude and pride, and, in a grand manner, he did the honors.

"Come, good comrades," he said. "Come to the banquet. Have a steak of
a bear, the finest, juiciest, tenderest bear that was ever killed.
Have two steaks, three steaks, four steaks, any number of them. Here
is abundant food that Areskoui has sent us."

Then he reeled and would have fallen to the ground had not Willet
caught him in his arms. His great effort, made in his weakened
condition, had exhausted him and a sudden collapse came, but he
revived almost instantly, and the three together dragged the body of
the bear into the valley. Then they proceeded dextrously, but without
undue haste, to clean it, to light a fire, and to cook strips. Nor did
they eat rapidly, knowing it was not wise to do so, but took little
pieces, masticating them long and well, and allowing a decent interval
between. Their satisfaction was intense and enormous. Life, fresh and
vigorous, poured back into their veins.

"I'm sorry our bear had to die," said Robert, "but he perished in a
good cause. I think he was reserved for the especial purpose of saving
our lives."

"It is so," said Tayoga with deep conviction. "The face of Areskoui is
now turned toward us. Our unknown sin is expiated. We must cook all
the bear, and hang the flesh in the trees."

"So we must," said the hunter. "It's not right that we three, who are
engaged in the great service of our country, should be hindered by the
danger of starvation. We ought now to be somewhere near the French and
Indians, watching them."

"Tomorrow we will seek them, Great Bear," said Tayoga, "but do you not
think that tonight we should rest?"

"So we should, Tayoga. You're right. We'll take all chances on being
seen, keep a good fire going and enjoy our comfort."

"And eat a big black bear steak every hour or so," said Robert.

"If we feel like it that's just what we'll do," laughed Willet. "It's
our night, now. Surely, Robert, you're the greatest hunter in the
world! Neither Tayoga nor I saw a sign of game, but you walked
straight to your bear."

"No irony," said Robert, who, nevertheless, was pleased. "It merely
proves that Areskoui had forgiven me, while he had not forgiven you
two. But don't you notice a tremendous change?"

"Change! Change in what?"

"Why, everything! The whole world is transformed! Around us a
little while ago stretched a scrubby, gloomy forest, but it is now
magnificent and cheerful. I never saw finer oaks and beeches. That sky
which was black and sinister has all the gorgeous golds and reds and
purples of a benevolent sunset. The wind, lately cold and wet, is
actually growing soft, dry and warm. It's a grand world, a kind world,
a friendly world!"

"Thus, O Dagaeoga," said Tayoga, "does the stomach rule man and the
universe. It is empty and all is black, it is filled and all that
was black turns to rose. But the rose will soon be gone, because the
sunlight is fading and night is at hand."

"But it's a fine night," said Robert sincerely. "I think it about the
finest night I ever saw coming."

"Have another of these beautiful broiled steaks," said Willet, "and
you'll be sure it's the finest night that ever was or ever will be."

"I think I will," said Robert, as he held the steak on the end of a
sharpened stick over the coals and listened to the pleasant sizzling
sound, "and after this is finished and a respectable time has elapsed,
I may take another."

The revulsion in all three was tremendous. Although they had hidden
it from one another, the great decrease in physical vitality had
made their minds sink into black despair, but now that strength was
returning so fast they saw the world through different eyes. They
lay back luxuriously and their satisfaction was so intense that they
thought little of danger. Tandakora might be somewhere near, but it
did not disturb men who were as happy as they. The night came down,
heavy and dark, as had been predicted, and they smothered their fire,
but they remained before the coals, sunk in content.

They talked for a while in low tones, but, at length, they became
silent. The big hunter considered. He knew that, despite the revulsion
in feeling, they were not yet strong enough to undertake a great
campaign against their enemies, and it would be better to remain a
while in the valley until they were restored fully.

Beside their fire was a good enough place for the time, and Robert
kept the first watch. The night, in reality, had turned much warmer
and the sky was luminous with stars. The immense sense of comfort
remained with him, and he was not disturbed by the howling of the
wolves, which he knew had been drawn by the odor of game, but which he
knew also would be afraid to invade the camp and attack three men.

His spirits, high as they were already, rose steadily as he watched.
Surely after the Supreme Power had cast them down into the depths, a
miracle had been worked in their behalf to take them out again. It was
no skill of his that had led him to the bear, but strength far greater
than that of man was now acting in their behalf. As they had triumphed
over starvation they would triumph over everything. His sanguine mind
predicted it.

The next morning was crisp and cold, but not wet, and Robert ate the
most savory breakfast he could recall. That bear must have been fed on
the choicest of wild nuts, topped off with wild honey, to have been so
juicy and tender, and the thought of nuts caused him to look under the
big hickory trees, where he found many of them, large and ripe. They
made a most welcome addition to their bill of fare, taking the place
of bread. Then, they were so well pleased with themselves that they
concluded to spend another day and night in the valley.

Tayoga about noon climbed the enclosing ridge to the north, and, when
he returned, Willet noticed a sparkle in his eyes. But the hunter said
nothing, knowing that the Onondaga would speak in his own good time.

"There is another valley beyond the ridge," said Tayoga, "and a war
party is encamped in it. They sit by their fire and eat prodigiously
of deer they have killed."

Robert was startled, but he kept silent, he, too, knowing that Tayoga
would tell all he intended to tell without urging.

"They do not know we are here, I do not think they dream of our
presence," continued the Onondaga, "Areskoui smiles on us now, and
Tododaho on his star, which we cannot see by day, is watching over us.
Their feet will not bring them this way."

"Then you wouldn't suggest our taking to flight?" said Willet. "You
would favor hiding here in peace?"

"Even so. It will please us some day to remember that we rested and
slept almost within hearing of our enemies, and yet they did not take
us."

"That's grim humor, Tayoga, but if it's the way you feel, Robert and I
are with you."

Later in the afternoon they saw smoke rising beyond the ridge and
they knew the warriors had built a great fire before which they were
probably lying and gorging themselves, after their fashion when they
had plenty of food, and little else to do. Yet the three remained
defiantly all that day and all through the following night. The next
morning, with ample supplies in their packs, they turned their faces
southward, and cautiously climbed the ridge in that direction, once
more passing into the region of the peaks. To their surprise they
struck several comparatively fresh trails in the passes, and they were
soon forced to the conclusion that the hostile forces were still all
about them. Near midday they stopped in a narrow gorge between high
peaks and listened to calls of the inhabitants of the forest, the
faint howls of wolves, and once or twice the yapping of a fox.

"The warriors signaling to one another!" said Willet.

"It is so," said Tayoga. "I think they have noticed our tracks in
the earth, too slight, perhaps, to tell who we are, but they will
undertake to see."

"I hear the call of a moose directly ahead," said Robert, "although I
know it is no moose that makes it. Our way there is cut off."

"And there is the howl of the wolf behind us," said Tayoga. "We cannot
go back."

"Then," said Robert, "I suppose we must climb the mountain. It's lucky
we've got our strength again."

They scaled a lofty summit once more, fortunately being able to climb
among rocks, where they left no trail, and, crouched at the crest in
dense bushes, they saw two bands meet in the valley below, evidently
searching for the fugitives. There was no white man among them, but
Robert knew a gigantic figure to be that of Tandakora, seeking them
with the most intense and bitter hatred. The muzzle of his rifle began
to slide forward, but Willet put out a detaining hand.

"No, Robert, lad," he said. "He deserves it, but his time hasn't come
yet. Besides your shot would bring the whole crowd up after us."

"And he belongs to me," added Tayoga. "When he falls it is to be by my
hand."

"Yes, he belongs to you, Tayoga," said Willet "Now they've concluded
that we continued toward the south, and they're going on that way."

As they felt the need of the utmost caution they spent the remainder
of the day and the next night on the crest. Robert kept the late
watch, and he saw the dawn come, red and misty, a huge sun shining
over the eastern mountains, but shedding little warmth. He was hopeful
that Tandakora and his warriors had passed on far into the south, but
he heard a distant cry rising in the clear air east of the peak and
then a reply to the west. His heart stood still for a moment. He
knew that they were the whoops of the savages and he felt that they
signified a discovery. Perhaps chance had disclosed their trail. He
listened with great intentness, but the shouts did not come again.
Nevertheless the omen was bad.

He awoke Willet and the Onondaga, who had been sleeping soundly,
and told them what had happened, both agreeing that the shouts were
charged with import.

"I think it likely that we will be attacked," said the hunter. "Now we
must take another look at our position."

The peak, luckily for them, was precipitous, and its crest did not
cover an area of more than twenty or thirty square yards. On the three
sides the ascent was so steep that a man could not climb up except
with extreme difficulty, but on the fourth, by which they had come,
the slope was more gradual. The gentle climb faced the east, and it
was here that the hunter and Robert watched, while Tayoga, for the
sake of utmost precaution, kept an eye on the steep sides.

Knowing that it was wise to economize and even to increase their
strength, they ate abundantly of the bear steaks, afterward craving
water, which they were forced to do without--the one great flaw in
their position, since the warriors might hold them there to perish of
thirst.

Robert soon forgot the desire for water in the tenseness of watching
and waiting. But even the anxiety and the peril to his life did not
keep him from noticing the singularity of his situation, upon the
slender peak of a high mountain far in the wilderness. The sun, full
of splendor but still cold, touched with gold all the surrounding
crests and ridges and filled with a yellow but luxurious haze every
gorge and ravine. He was compelled to admire its wintry beauty, a
beauty, though, that he knew to be treacherous, surcharged as it was
with savage wile and stratagem, and a burning desire for their lives.

A time that seemed incredible passed without demonstration from the
enemy. But he realized that it was only about two hours. He did not
expect to see any of the warriors creeping up the slopes toward them,
but too wise to watch for their faces he did expect to notice the
bushes move ever so slightly under their advance. He and Willet
remained crouched in the same positions in the shelter of high rocks.
Tayoga, who had been moving about the far side, came to them and
whispered:

"I am going down the northern face of the cliff!"

"Why, it's sheer insanity, Tayoga!" said the astonished hunter.

"But I'm going."

"What'll you achieve after you've gone? You'll merely walk into
Tandakora's hands!"

"I go, Great Bear, and I will return in a half hour, alive and well."

"Is your mind upset, Tayoga?"

"I am quite sane. Remember, Great Bear, I will be back in a half hour
unhurt."

Then he was gone, gliding away through the low vegetation that covered
the crest, and Robert and the hunter looked at each other.

"There is more in this than the eye sees," said young Lennox. "I never
knew Tayoga to speak with more confidence. I think he will be back
just as he says, in half an hour."

"Maybe, though I don't understand it. But there are lots of things one
doesn't understand. We must keep our eyes on the slope, and let Tayoga
solve his own problem, whatever it is."

There was no wind at all, but once Robert thought he saw the shrubs
halfway down the steep move, though he was not sure and nothing
followed. But, intently watching the place where the motion had
occurred, he caught a gleam of metal which he was quite sure came from
a rifle barrel.

"Did you see it?" he whispered to the hunter.

"Aye, lad," replied Willet. "They're there in that dense clump, hoping
we've relaxed the watch and that they can surprise us. But it may be
two or three hours before they come any farther. Always remember in
your dealings with Indians that they have more time than anything
else, and so they know how to be patient. Now, I wonder what Tayoga is
doing! That boy certainly had something unusual on his mind!"

"Here he is, ready to speak for himself, and back inside his promised
half hour."

Tayoga parted the bushes without noise, and sat down between them
behind the big rocks. He offered no explanation, but seemed very
content with himself.

"Well, Tayoga," said Willet, "did you go down the side of the
mountain?"

"As far as I wished."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I have been engaged in a very pleasant task, Great Bear."

"What pleasure can you find in scaling a steep and rocky slope?"

"I have been drinking, Great Bear, drinking the fresh, pure water of
the mountains, and it was wonderfully cool and good to my dry throat."

The two gazed at him in astonishment, and he laughed low, but with
deep enjoyment.

"I took one drink, two drinks, three drinks," he said, "and when the
time comes I shall take more. The fountain also awaits the lips of the
Great Bear and of Dagaeoga."

"Tell it all," said Robert.

"When I looked down the steep side a long time I thought I caught a
gleam as of falling water in the bushes. It was only twenty or thirty
yards below us, and, when I descended to it, I found a little fountain
bursting from a crevice in the rock. It was but a thread, making
a tiny pool a few inches across, before it dropped away among the
bushes, but it is very cool, very clear, and there is always plenty of
it for many men."

"Is the descent hard?" asked Willet.

"Not for one who is strong and cautious. There are thick vines and
bushes to which to hold, and remember that the splendid water is at
the end of the journey."

"Then, Robert, you go," said the hunter, "and mind, too, that you get
back soon, because my throat is parching. I'd like to have one deep
drink before the warriors attack."

Robert followed Tayoga, and, obeying his instructions, was soon at the
fountain, where he drank once, twice, thrice, and then once more
of the finest water he could recall. Then, deeply grateful for the
Onondaga's observation, he climbed back, and the hunter took his turn.

"It was certainly good, Tayoga," he said, when he was back in
position. "Some men don't think much of water, but none of us can live
without it. You've saved our lives."

"Perhaps, O Great Bear," responded the Onondaga, "but if the bushes
below continue to shake as they are doing we shall have to save them
again. Ah!"

The exclamation, long drawn but low, was followed by the leap of his
rifle to the shoulder, and the pressing of his finger on the trigger.
A stream of fire sprang from the muzzle of the long barrel to be
followed by a yell in one of the thickets clustering on the slope. A
savage rose to his feet, threw up his arms and fell headlong, his body
crashing far below on the rocks. Robert shut his eyes and shivered.

"He was dead before he touched earth, lad," said the hunter. "Now the
others are ready to scramble back. Look how the bushes are shaking
again!"

Robert had shut his eyes only for a moment, and now he saw the scrub
shaking more violently than ever. Then he had a fleeting glimpse of
brown bodies as all the warriors descended rapidly. Anyone of the
three might have fired with good aim, but they did not raise their
rifles. Since their enemies were retreating they would let them
retreat.

"They're all back in the valley now," said the hunter after a little
while, "and they'll think a lot before they try the steep ascent a
second time. Now it's a question of patience, and they hope we'll
become so weak from thirst that we'll fall into their hands."

"Tandakora and his warriors would be consumed with anger if they knew
of our spring," said Tayoga.

"They'll find out about it soon," said Robert.

"I think not," said Tayoga. "I noticed when I was at the fountain that
the rivulet ran back into the cliff about a hundred feet below, and
one can see the water only from the crest. If Areskoui has allowed us
to be besieged here, he at least has created much in our favor."

He looked toward the east, where the great red sun was shining, and
worshiped silently. It seemed to Robert that his young comrade stared
unwinking for a long time into the eye of the Sun God, though perhaps
it was only a few seconds. But his form expanded and his face was
illumined. Robert knew that the Onondaga's confidence had become
supreme, and he shared in it.

The hunter and Tayoga kept the watch after a while, and young Lennox
was free to wander about the crest as he wished. He examined carefully
the three sides they had left unguarded, but was convinced that no
warrior, no matter how skillful and tenacious, could climb up there.
Then he wandered back toward the sentinels, and, sitting down under a
tree, began to study the distant slopes across the gorge.

He saw the warriors gather by-and-by in a deep recess out of rifle
shot, light a fire and begin to cook great quantities of game, as
if they meant to stay there and keep the siege until doomsday, if
necessary. He saw the gigantic figure of Tandakora approach the fire,
eat voraciously for a while and then go away. After him came a white
man in French uniform. He thought at first it was St. Luc and his
heart beat hard, but he was able to discern presently that it was an
officer not much older than himself, in a uniform of white faced with
violet and a black, three-cornered hat. Finally he recognized young De
Galissonnière, whom he had met in Québec, and whom he had seen a few
days since in the French camp.

As he looked De Galissonnière left the recess, descended into the
valley and then began to climb their slope, a white handkerchief held
aloft on the point of his small sword. Young Lennox immediately joined
the two watchers at the brink.

"A flag of truce! Now what can he want!" he exclaimed.

"We'll soon see," replied Willet. "He's within good hearing now, and
I'll hail him."

He shouted in powerful tones that echoed in the gorge:

"Below there! What is it?"

"I have something to say that will be of great importance to you,"
replied De Galissonnière.

"Then come forward, while we remain here. We don't trust your allies."

Robert saw the face of the young Frenchman flush, but De
Galissonnière, as if knowing the truth, and resolved not to quibble
over it, climbed steadily. When he was within twenty feet of the
crest the hunter called to him to halt, and he did so, leaning easily
against a strong bush, while the three waited eagerly to hear what he
had to say.




CHAPTER IV


THE GODS AT PLAY

De Galissonnière gazed at the three faces, peering at him over the
brink, and then drew himself together jauntily. His position, perched
on the face of the cliff, was picturesque, and he made the most of it.

"I am glad to see you again Mr. Willet, Mr. Lennox and Tayoga, the
brave Onondaga," he said. "It's been a long time since we met in
Québec and much water has flowed under that bridge of Avignon, of
which we French sing, but I can't see that any one of you has changed
much."

"Nor you," said Robert, catching his tone and acting as spokesman
for the three. "The circumstances are unusual, Captain Louis de
Galissonnière, and I'm sorry I can't invite you to come up on our
crest, but it wouldn't be military to let you have a look at our
fortifications."

"I understand, and I do very well where I am. I wish to say first that
I am sorry to see you in such a plight."

"And we, Captain, regret to find you allied with such a savage as
Tandakora."

A quick flush passed over the young Frenchman's face, but he made no
other sign.

"In war one cannot always choose," he replied. "I have come to receive
your surrender, and I warn you very earnestly that it will be wise for
you to tender it. The Indians have lost one man already and they are
inflamed. If they lose more I might not be able to control them."

"And if we yield ourselves you pledge us our lives, a transfer in
safety to Canada where we are to remain as prisoners of war, until
such time as we may be exchanged?"

"All that I promise, and gladly."

"You're sure, Captain de Galissonnière, that you can carry out the
conditions?"

"Absolutely sure. You are surrounded here on the peak, and you cannot
get away. All we have to do is to keep the siege."

"That is true, but while you can wait so can we."

"But we have plenty of water, and you have none."

"You would urge us again to surrender on the ground that it would be
the utmost wisdom for us to do so?"

"It goes without saying, Mr. Lennox."

"Then, that being the case, we decline."

De Galissonnière looked up in astonishment at the young face that
gazed down at him. The answer he had expected was quite the reverse.

"You mean that you refuse?" he exclaimed.

"It is just what I meant."

"May I ask why, when you are in such a hopeless position?"

"Tayoga, Mr. Willet and I wish to see how long we can endure the pangs
of thirst without total collapse. We've had quite a difference on the
subject. Tayoga says ten days, Mr. Willet twelve days, but I think we
can stand it a full two weeks."

De Galissonnière frowned.

"You are frivolous, Mr. Lennox," he said, "and this is not a time for
light talk. I don't know what you mean, but it seems to me you don't
appreciate the dire nature of your peril. I liked you and your
comrades when I met you in Québec and I do not wish to see you perish
at the hands of the savages. That is why I have climbed up here to
make you this offer, which I have wrung from the reluctant Tandakora.
It was he who assured me that the besieged were you. It pains me that
you see fit to reject it."

"I know it was made out of a good heart," said Robert, seriously, "and
we thank you for the impulse that brought you here. Some day we may be
able to repay it, but we decline because there are always chances. You
know, Captain, that while we have life we always have hope. We may yet
escape."

"I do not see wherein it is possible," said the young Frenchman, with
actual reluctance in his tone. "But it is for you to decide what you
wish to do. Farewell."

"Farewell, Captain de Galissonnière," said Robert, with the utmost
sincerity. "I hope no bullet of ours will touch you."

The captain made a courteous gesture of good-by and slowly descended
the slope, disappearing among the bushes in the gorge, whence came a
fierce and joyous shout.

"That was the cry of the savages when he told them our answer," said
Willet. "They don't want us to surrender. They think that by-and-by
we'll fall into their hands through exhaustion, and then they can work
their will upon us."

"They don't know about that fountain, that pure, blessed fountain,"
said Robert, "the finest fountain that gushes out anywhere in this
northern wilderness, the fountain that Tayoga's Areskoui has put here
for our especial benefit."

His heart had become very light and, as usual when his optimism was
at its height, words gushed forth. Water, and their ability to get it
whenever they wanted it, was the key to everything, and he painted
their situation in such bright colors that his two comrades could not
keep from sharing his enthusiasm.

"Truly, Dagaeoga did not receive the gift of words in vain," said
Tayoga. "Golden speech flows from him, and it lifts up the minds
of those who hear. Manitou finds a use for everybody, even for the
orator."

"Though it was a hard task, even for Manitou," laughed Robert.

They watched the whole afternoon without any demonstration from the
enemy--they expected none--and toward evening the Onondaga, who was
gazing into the north, announced a dark shadow on the horizon.

"What is it?" asked Robert. "A cloud? I hope we won't have another
storm."

"It is no cloud," replied Tayoga. "It is something else that moves
very fast, and it comes in our direction. A little longer and I can
tell what it is. Now I see; it is a flight of wild pigeons, a great
flock, hundreds of thousands, and millions, going south to escape the
winter."

"We've seen such flights often."

"So we have, but this is coming straight toward us, and I have a great
thought, Dagaeoga. Areskoui has not only forgiven us for our unknown
sin--perhaps of omission--but he has also decided to put help in our
way, if we will use it. You see many dwarf trees at the southern edge
of the crest, and I believe that by dark they will be covered with
pigeons, stopping for the night."

"And some of them will stop for our benefit, though we have bear meat
too! I see, Tayoga."

Robert watched the flying cloud, which had grown larger and blacker,
and then he saw that Tayoga was right. It was an immense flock of wild
pigeons, and, as the twilight fell, they covered the trees upon their
crest so thickly that the boughs bent beneath them. Young Lennox and
the Onondaga killed as many as they wished with sticks, and soon, fat
and juicy, they were broiling over the coals.

"Tandakora will guess that the pigeons have fed us," said Robert, "and
he will not like it, but he will yet know nothing about the water."

They climbed down in turn in the darkness and took a drink, and
Robert, who explored a little, found many vines loaded with wild
grapes, ripe and rich, which made a splendid dessert. Then he took
a number of the smaller but very tough stems, and knotting them
together, with the assistance of Tayoga ran a strong rope from the
crest down to the fountain, thus greatly easing the descent for water
and the return.

"Now we can take two drinks where we took one before," he said
triumphantly when the task was finished. "If you have your water there
is nothing like making it easy to be reached. Moreover, while it was
safe for an agile fellow like me, you and Dave, Tayoga, being stiff
and clumsy, might have tumbled down the mountain and then I should
have been lonesome."

Willet, who had been keeping the watch alone, was inclined to the
belief that they might expect an attack in the night, if it should
prove to be very dark. He felt able, however, should such an attempt
come, to detect the advance of the savages, either by sight or
hearing, especially the latter, ear in such cases generally informing
him earlier than eye. But as neither Robert nor Tayoga was busy they
joined him, and all three sat near the brink with their rifles across
their knees, and their pistols loosened in their belts, ready for
their foes should they come in numbers.

They talked a while in low tones, and then fell silent. The night had
come, starless and moonless, favorable to the designs of Tandakora,
but they felt intense satisfaction, nevertheless. It was partly
physical. Robert's making of an easy road to the water, the coming of
the pigeons, to be eaten, apparently sent by Areskoui, and the ease
with which they believed they could hold their lofty fortress,
combined to produce a victorious state of mind. Robert looked over the
brink once or twice at the steep slope, and he felt that the warriors
would, in truth, be taking a mighty risk, if they came up that steep
path against the three.

He and Tayoga, in the heavy darkness, depended, like Willet, chiefly
on ear. It was impossible to see to the bottom of the valley, where
the dusk had rolled up like a sea, but, as the night was still, they
felt sure they could hear anyone climbing up the peak. In order to
make themselves more comfortable they spread their blankets at the
very brink, and lay down upon them, thus being able to repose, and at
the same time watch without the risk of inviting a shot.

Young Lennox knew that the attack, if it came at all, would not come
until late, and restraining his naturally eager and impatient temper,
he used all the patience that his strong will could summon, never
ceasing meanwhile to lend an attentive ear to every sound of the
night. He heard the wind rise, moan a little while in the gorge and
then die; he heard a fitful breeze rustle the boughs on the slopes and
then grow still, and he heard his comrades move once or twice to ease
their positions, but no other sound came to him until nearly midnight,
and then he heard the fall of a pebble on the slope, absolute proof
to one experienced as he that it had been displaced by the incautious
foot of a climbing enemy.

The rattling of the pebble was succeeded by a long interval of
silence, and the lad understood that too. The warriors, to whom time
was nothing, fearing that suspicion had been aroused by the fall of
the pebble, would wait until it had been lulled before resuming their
advance. They would flatten themselves like lizards against the slope,
not stirring an inch. But the three were as patient as they, and while
a full hour passed after the slip of the stone before the slightest
sound came from the slope, they did not relax their vigilance a
particle. Then all three heard a slight rustle among the bushes and
they peered cautiously over.

They were able to discern the dim outline of figures among the bushes
about twenty feet below, and Wilier, who directed the defense,
whispered that Tayoga and he would take aim, while Robert held his
fire in reserve. Then the Onondaga and he picked their targets in
the darkness and pulled trigger. Shouts, the fall of bodies and the
crackling of rifles came back. A half dozen bullets, fired almost at
random, whistled over their heads and then Robert sent his own lead at
a shadow which appeared very clearly among the bushes, a crashing fall
following at once.

Then the three, not waiting to reload, snatched out their pistols and
held themselves ready for a further attack, if it should come. But it
did not come. Even the rage of Tandakora had had enough. His second
repulse had been bloodier than the first, and it had been proved with
the lives of his warriors that they could not storm that terrible
steep, in the face of three such redoubtable marksmen.

Robert heard a number of pebbles rolling now, but they were made by
men descending, and the three, certain of abundant leisure, reloaded
their rifles. Their eyes told them nothing, but they were as sure as
if they had seen them that the warriors had disappeared in the sea of
darkness with which the gulf was filled. The lad breathed a long sigh
of relief.

"You're justified in your satisfaction," said Willet. "I think it's
the last direct attack they'll make upon us. Now they'll try the slow
methods of siege and our exhaustion by thirst, and how it would make
their venom rise if they knew anything about that glorious fountain
of ours! Since it's to be a test of patience, we'd better make things
easy for ourselves. I'll sit here and watch the slope, and, as the
night is turning cold, you and Tayoga, Robert, can build a fire."

There was a dip in the center of the crest, and in this they heaped
the fallen wood, which here as elsewhere in the wilderness was
abundant. Wood and water, two great requisites of primitive man, they
had in plenty, and had it not been for their eagerness to go forward
with their work they would have been content to stay indefinitely on
the peak.

The fire was soon blazing cheerfully. Warriors on the opposing peaks
or crest might see it, but they did not care. No bullets from rival
heights could reach them and the light would appear to their enemies
as a beacon of defiance, a sort of challenge that was very pleasing to
Robert's soul. He basked in the glow and heat of the coals, ate bear
meat and wild pigeon for a late supper, and discoursed on the strength
of their natural fortress.

"The peak was reared here by Areskoui for our especial benefit," he
said. "It is in every sense a tower of strength, water even being
placed in its side that we might not die of thirst."

"And yet we cannot stay here always," said the Onondaga. "Tomorrow we
must think of a way of escape."

"Let tomorrow take care of itself. Tayoga, you're too serious! You're
missing the pleasure of the night."

"Dagaeoga loves to talk and he talks well. His voice is pleasant in my
ear like to the murmur of a silver brook. Perhaps he is right. Lo! the
clouds have gone, and I can see Tododaho on his star. Areskoui watches
over us by day and Tododaho by night. We are once more the favorites
of the Sun God and of the great Onondaga who went away to his
everlasting star more than four centuries ago. Again I say Dagaeoga is
right; I will enjoy the night, and let the morrow care for itself."

He drew the folds of his blanket to his chin and stretched his length
before the fire. Having made up his mind to be satisfied, Tayoga would
let nothing interfere with such a laudable purpose. Soon he slept
peacefully.

"You might follow him," said Willet.

"I don't think I can do it now," said Robert. "I've a restless
spirit."

"Then wander about the peak, and I'll take up my old place at the edge
of the slope."

Robert went back to the far side, where he had stretched his rope of
grape vines down to the spring, and, craving their cool, fresh taste,
he ate more of the grapes. He noticed then that they were uncommonly
plentiful. All along the cliff they trailed in great, rich clusters,
black and glossy, fairly asking to be eaten. In places the vines
hung in perfect mazes, and he looked at them questioningly. Then
the thought came to him and he wondered why it had been so slow of
arrival. He returned to Willet and said:

"I don't think you need watch any longer here, Dave."

"Why?" was the hunter's astonished reply.

"Because we're going to leave the mountain."

"Leave the mountain! It's more likely, Robert, that your prudence has
left you. If we went down the slope we'd go squarely into the horde,
and then it would be a painful and lingering end for us."

"I don't mean the slope. We're to go down the other side of the
cliff."

"Except here and near the bottom the mountain is as steep everywhere
as the side of a house. The only way for us to get down is to fall
down and then we'd stop too quick."

"We don't have to fall down, we'll climb down."

"Can't be done, Robert, my boy. There's not enough bushes."

"We don't need bushes, there are miles of grape vines as strong as
leather. All we have to do is to knot them together securely and our
rope is ready. If we eased our way to the spring with vines then we
can finish the journey to the bottom of the cliff with them."

The hunter's gaze met that of the lad, and it was full of approval.

"I believe you've found the way, Robert," said Willet. "Wake Tayoga
and see what he thinks."

The Onondaga received the proposal with enthusiasm, and he made the
further suggestion that they build high the fire for the sake of
deceiving the besiegers.

"And suppose we prop up two or three pieces of fallen tree trunk
before it," added Robert. "Warriors watching on the opposite slopes
will take them for our figures and will not dream that we're
attempting to escape."

That idea, too, was adopted, and in a few minutes the fire was blazing
and roaring, while a stream of sparks drifted up merrily from it to be
lost in the dusk. Near it the fragments of tree trunks set erect would
pass easily, at a great distance and in the dark, for human beings.
Then, while Willet watched, Robert and Tayoga knotted the vines with
quick and dextrous hands, throwing the cable over a bough, and trying
every knot with their double weight. A full two hours they toiled and
then they exulted.

"It will reach from the clump of bushes about the fountain to the next
clump below, which is low down," said Robert, "and from there we can
descend without help."

They called Willet, and the three, leaving the crest which had been
such a refuge for them and which they had defended so well, descended
to the fountain. At that point they secured their cable with infinite
care to the largest of the dwarf trees and let it drop over across a
bare space to the next clump of bushes below, a distance that seemed
very great, it was so steep. Robert claimed the honor of the first
descent, but it was finally conceded to Tayoga, who was a trifle
lighter.

The Onondaga fastened securely upon his back his rifle and his pack
containing food, and then, grasping the cable firmly with both hands,
he began to go down, while his friends watched with great anxiety. He
was not obliged to swing clear his whole weight, but was able to brace
his feet against the cliff. Thus he steadied the vines, but Robert and
Willet nevertheless breathed great sighs of relief, when he reached
the bushes below, and detached himself from the cable.

"It is safe," he called back.

Robert went next and Willet followed. When the three were in the
bushes, clinging to their tough and wiry strength, they found that the
difficulties, as they invariably do, had decreased. Below them the
slope was not so steep by any means, and, by holding to the rocky
outcrops and scant bushes, they could make the full descent of the
mountain. While they rested for a little space where they were, Robert
suddenly began to laugh.

"Is Dagaeoga rejoicing so soon?" asked Tayoga

"Why shouldn't I laugh," replied Robert, "when we have such a good
jest?"

"What jest? I see none."

"Why, to think of Tandakora sitting at the foot of our peak and
watching there three or four days, waiting all the time for us to die
of hunger and thirst, and we far to the south. At least he'll see that
the mountain doesn't get away, and Tandakora, I take it, has small
sense of humor. When he penetrates the full measure of the joke he'll
love us none the less. Perhaps, though, De Galissonnière will not
mourn, because he knows that if we were taken after a siege he could
not save us from the cruelty of the savages."

The hunter and the Onondaga were forced to laugh a little with him,
and then, rested thoroughly, they resumed the descent, leaving their
cable to tell its own tale, later on. The rest of the slope, although
possible, was slow and painful, testing their strength and skill to
the utmost, but they triumphed over everything and before day were in
a gorge, with the entire height of the peak towering above them and
directly between them and their enemies. Here they flung themselves
on the ground and rested until day, when they began a rapid flight
southward, curving about among the peaks, as the easiest way led them.

The air rapidly grew warmer, showing that the sudden winter had come
only on the high mountains, and that autumn yet lingered on the lower
levels. The gorgeous reds and yellows and browns and vivid shades
between returned, but there was a haze in the air and the west was
dusky.

"Storm will come again before night," said Tayoga.

"I think so too," said Willet, "and as I've no mind to be beaten about
by it, suppose we build a spruce shelter in the gorge here and wait
until it passes."

The two lads were more than willing, feeling that the chance of
pursuit had passed for a long time at least, and they set to work with
their sharp hatchets, rapidly making a crude but secure wickiup, as
usual against the rocky side of a hill. Before the task was done the
sky darkened much more, and far in the west thunder muttered.

"It's rolling down a gorge," said Robert, "and hark! you can hear it
also in the south."

From a point, far distant from the first, came a like rumble, and,
after a few moments of silence, a third rumble was heard to the east.
Silence again and then the far rumble came from the south.

"That's odd," said Robert. "It isn't often that you hear thunder on
all sides of you."

"Listen!" exclaimed Tayoga, whose face bore a rapt and extraordinary
look. The four rumbles again went around the horizon, coming from one
point after the other in turn.

"It is no ordinary thunder," said the Onondaga in a tone of deep
conviction.

"What is it, then?" asked Robert.

"It is Manitou, Areskoui, Tododaho and Hayowentha talking together.
That is why we have the thunder north, east, south and west. Hear
their voices carrying all through the heavens!"

"Which is Manitou?"

"That I cannot tell. But the great gods talk, one with another, though
what they say is not for us to know. It is not right that mere mortals
like ourselves should understand them, when they speak across infinite
space."

"It may be that you're right, Tayoga," said Willet.

The three did not yet go into the spruce shelter, because, contrary to
the signs, there was no rain. The wind moaned heavily and thick black
clouds swept up in an almost continuous procession from the western
horizon, but they did not let a drop fall. The thunder at the four
points of the horizon went on, the reports moving from north to east,
and thence to south and west, and then around and around, always in
the same direction. After every crash there was a long rumble in the
gorges until the next crash came again. Now and then lightning flared.

"It is not a storm after all," said the Onondaga, "or, at least, if a
storm should come it will not be until after night is at hand, when
the great gods are through talking. Listen to the heavy booming,
always like the sound of a thousand big guns at one time. Now the
lightning grows and burns until it is at a white heat. The great gods
not only talk, but they are at play. They hurl thunderbolts through
infinite space, and watch them fall. Then they send thunder rumbling
through our mountains, and the sound is as soft to them as a whisper
to us."

"Your idea is pretty sound, Tayoga," said Willet, who had imbibed more
than a little of the Iroquois philosophy, "and it does look as if the
gods were at play because there is so much thunder and lightning and
no rain. Look at that flash on the mountain toward the east! I think
it struck. Yes, there goes a tree! When the gods play among the peaks
it's just as well for us to stay down here in the gorge."

"But the crashes still run regularly from north to east and on
around," said Robert. "I suppose that when they finish talking, the
rain will come, and we'll have plenty of need for our spruce shelter."

The deep rumbling continued all through the rest of the afternoon.
A dusk as of twilight arrived long before sunset, but it was of an
unusually dull, grayish hue, and it affected Robert as if he were
breathing an air surcharged with gunpowder. It colored and intensified
everything. The peaks and ridges rose to greater heights, the gorges
and valleys were deeper, the reports of the thunder, extremely heavy,
in fact, were doubled and tripled in fancy; all that Tayoga had said
about the play of the gods was true. Tododaho, the great Onondaga,
spoke across the void to Hayowentha, the great Mohawk, and Areskoui,
the Sun God, conversed with Manitou, the All Powerful, Himself.

The imaginative lad felt awe but no fear. The gods at play in the
heavens would not condescend to harm a humble mortal like himself and
it was an actual pleasure because he was there to hear them. Just
before the invisible sun went over the rim of the horizon, a brilliant
red light shot for a minute or two from the west through the gray
haze, and fell on the faces of the three, sitting in silence before
their spruce shelter.

"It is Areskoui throwing off his most brilliant beams before he goes,"
said Tayoga. "Now I think the play will soon be over, and we may look
for the rain."

The crashes of thunder increased swiftly and greatly in violence, and
then, as the Onondaga had predicted, ceased abruptly. The silence that
followed was so heavy that it was oppressive. No current of air was
moving anywhere. Not a leaf stirred. The grayish haze became thicker
and every ridge and peak was hidden. Presently a sound like a sigh
came down the gorge, but it soon grew.

"We'll go inside," said Tayoga, "because the deluge is at hand."

They crowded themselves into their crude little hut, and in five
minutes the flood was upon them, pouring with such violence that some
of it forced its way through the hasty thatch, but they were able
to protect themselves with their blankets, and they slept the night
through in a fair degree of comfort.

In the morning they saw a world washed clean, bright and shining, and
they breathed an autumnal air wonderful in its purity. Feeling safe
now from pursuit, they were no longer eager to flee. A brief council
of three decided that they would hang once more on the French and
Indian flank. It had been their purpose to discover what was intended
by the formidable array they had seen, and it was their purpose yet.

They did not go back on their path, but they turned eastward into a
land of little and beautiful lakes, through which one of the great
Indian trails from the northwest passed, and made a hidden camp
near the shore of a sheet of water about a mile square, set in the
mountains like a gem. They had method in locating here, as the trail
ran through a gorge less than half a mile to the east of their camp,
and they had an idea that the spy, Garay, might pass that way, two of
them always abiding by the trail, while the third remained in their
secluded camp or hunted game. Willet shot a deer and Tayoga brought
down a rare wild turkey, while Robert caught some wonderful lake
trout. So they had plenty of food, and they were content to wait.

They were sure that Garay had not yet gone, as the storms that had
threatened them would certainly have delayed his departure, and
neither the hunter nor the Onondaga could discover any traces of
footsteps. Fortunately the air continued to turn warmer and the lower
country in which they now were had all the aspects of Indian summer.
Robert, shaken a little perhaps by the great hardships and dangers
through which he had passed, though he may not have realized at the
time the weight upon his nerves, recovered quickly, and, as usual,
passed, with the rebound, to the heights of optimism.

"What do you expect to get from Garay?" he asked Willet as he changed
places with him on the trail.

"I'm not sure," replied the hunter, "but if we catch him we'll find
something. We've got to take our bird first, and then we'll see. He
went north and west with a message, and that being the case he's bound
to take one back. I don't think Garay is a first-class woodsman and we
may be able to seize him."

Robert was pleased with the idea of the hunted turning into the
hunters, and he and Tayoga now did most of the watching along the
trail, a watch that was not relaxed either by day or by night. On
the sixth night the two youths were together, and Tayoga thought he
discerned a faint light to the north.

"It may be a low star shining over a hill," said Robert.

"I think it is the glow from a small camp fire," said the Onondaga.

"It's a question that's decided easily."

"You mean we'll stalk it, star or fire, whichever it may be?"

"That is what we're here for, Tayoga."

They began an exceedingly cautious advance toward the light, and it
soon became evident that it was a fire, though, as Tayoga had said, a
small one, set in a little valley and almost hidden by the surrounding
foliage. Now they redoubled their caution, using every forest art to
make a silent approach, as they might find a band of warriors around
the blaze, and they did not wish to walk with open eyes into any
such deadly trap. Their delight was great when they saw only one man
crouched over the coals in a sitting posture, his head bent over his
knees; so that, in effect, only his back was visible, but they knew
him at once. It was Garay.

The heart of young Lennox flamed with anger and triumph. Here was the
fellow who had tried to take his life in Albany, and, if he wished
revenge, the moment was full of opportunity. Yet he could never fire
at a man's back, and it was their cue, moreover, to take him alive.
Garay's rifle was leaning against a log, six or eight feet from him,
and his attitude indicated that he might be asleep. His clothing was
stained and torn, and he bore all the signs of a long journey and
extreme weariness.

"See what it is to come into the forest and not be master of all its
secrets," whispered Tayoga. "Garay is the messenger of Onontio (the
Governor General of Canada) and Tandakora, and yet he sleeps, when
those who oppose him are abroad."

"A man has to sleep some time or other," said Robert, "or at least a
white man must. We're not all like an Iroquois; we can't stay awake
forever if need be."

"If one goes to the land of Tarenyawagon when his enemies are at hand
he must pay the price, Dagaeoga, and now the price that Garay is going
to pay will be a high one. Surely Manitou has delivered him, helpless,
into our hands. Come, we will go closer."

They crept through the bushes until they could have reached out and
touched the spy with the muzzles of their rifles, and still he did not
stir. Into that heavy and weary brain, plunged into dulled slumbers,
entered no thought of a stalking foe. The fire sank and the bent
back sagged a little lower. Garay had traveled hard and long. He was
anxious to get back to Albany with what he knew, and he felt sure that
the northern forests contained only friends. He had built his fire
without apprehension, and sleep had overtaken him quickly.

A fox stirred in the thicket beyond the fire and looked suspiciously
at the coals and the still figure beyond them. He did not see the
other two figures in the bushes but his animosity as well as his
suspicion was aroused. He edged a little nearer, and then a slight
sound in the thicket caused him to creep back. But he was an inquiring
fox, and, although he buried himself under a bush, he still looked,
staring with sharp, intent eyes.

He saw a shadow glide from the thicket, pick up the rifle of Garay
which leaned against the fallen log, and then glide back, soundless.
The curiosity of the fox now prevailed over his suspicion. The shadow
had not menaced him, and his vulpine intelligence told him that he was
not concerned in the drama now about to unfold itself. He was merely a
spectator, and, as he looked, he saw the shadow glide back and crouch
beside the sleeping man. Then a second shadow came and crouched on the
other side.

What the fox saw was the approach of Robert and Tayoga, whom some
whimsical humor had seized. They intended to make the surprise
complete and Robert, with a memory of the treacherous shot in Albany,
was willing also to fill the soul of the spy with terror. Tayoga
adroitly removed the pistol and knife from the belt of Garay, and
Robert touched him lightly on the shoulder. Still he did not stir, and
then the youth brought his hand down heavily.

Garay uttered the sigh of one who comes reluctantly from the land of
sleep and who would have gone back through the portals which were only
half opened, but Robert brought his hand down again, good and hard.
Then his eyes flew open and he saw the calm face beside him, and the
calm eyes less than a foot away, staring straight into his own.
It must be an evil dream, he thought at first, but it had all the
semblance of reality, and, when he turned his head in fear, he saw
another face on the other side of him, carved in red bronze, it too
only a foot away and staring at him in stern accusation.

Then all the faculties of Garay, spy and attempted assassin, leaped
into life, and he uttered a yell of terror, springing to his feet, as
if he had been propelled by a galvanic battery. Strong hands, seizing
him on either side, pulled him down again and the voice of Tayoga, of
the clan of the Bear, of the nation Onondaga, of the great League of
the Hodenosaunee said insinuatingly in his ear:

"Sit down, Achille Garay! Here are two who wish to talk with you!"

He fell back heavily and his soul froze within him, as he recognized
the faces. His figure sagged, his eyes puffed out, and he waited in
silent terror.

"I see that you recognize us, Achille Garay," said Robert, whose
whimsical humor was still upon him. "You'll recall that shot in
Albany. Perhaps you did not expect to meet my friend and me here in
the heart of the northern forests, but here we are. What have you to
say for yourself?"

Garay strove to speak, but the half formed words died on his lips.

"We wish explanations about that little affair in Albany," continued
his merciless interlocutor, "and perhaps there is no better time than
the present. Again I repeat, what have you to say? And you have also
been in the French and Indian camp. You bore a message to St. Luc and
Tandakora and beyond a doubt you bear another back to somebody. We
want to know about that too. Oh, we want to know about many things!"

"I have no message," stammered Garay.

"Your word is not good. We shall find methods of making you talk. You
have been among the Indians and you ought to know something about
these methods. But first I must lecture you on your lack of woodcraft.
It is exceedingly unwise to build a fire in the wilderness and go
to sleep beside it, unless there is someone with you to watch. I'm
ashamed of you, Monsieur Garay, to have neglected such an elementary
lesson. It made your capture easy, so ridiculously easy that it
lacked piquancy and interest. Tayoga and I were not able to give our
faculties and strength the healthy exercise they need. Come now, are
you ready to walk?"

"What are you going to do with me?" asked Garay in French, which both
of his captors understood and spoke.

"We haven't decided upon that," replied Robert maliciously, "but
whatever it is we'll make it varied and lively. It may please you
to know that we've been waiting several days for you, but we scarce
thought you'd go to sleep squarely in the trail, just where we'd be
sure to see you. Stand up now and march like a man, ready to meet any
fate. Fortune has turned against you, but you still have the chance to
show your Spartan courage and endurance."

"The warrior taken by his enemies meets torture and death with a
heroic soul," said Tayoga solemnly.

Garay shivered.

"You'll save me from torture?" he said to Robert.

Young Lennox shook his head.

"I'd do so if it were left to me," he said, "but my friend, Tayoga,
has a hard heart. In such matters as these he will not let me have my
way. He insists upon the ancient practices of his nation. Also, David
Willet, the hunter, is waiting for us, and he too is strong for
extreme measures. You'll soon face him. Now, march straight to the
right!"

Garay with a groan raised himself to his feet and walked unsteadily in
the direction indicated. Close behind him came the avenging two.




CHAPTER V


TAMING A SPY

Young Lennox undeniably felt exultation. It fairly permeated his
system. The taking of Garay had been so easy that it seemed as if the
greater powers had put him squarely in their path, and had deprived
him of all vigilance, in order that he might fall like a ripe plum
into their hands. Surely the face of Areskoui was still turned
toward them, and the gods, having had their play, were benevolent of
mood--that is, so far as Robert and Tayoga were concerned, although
the spy might take a different view of the matter. The triumph, and
the whimsical humor that yet possessed him, moved him to flowery
speech.

"Monsieur Garay, Achille, my friend," he said. "You are surprised that
we know you so well, but remember that you left a visiting card with
us in Albany, the time you sent an evil bullet past my head, and then
proved too swift for Tayoga. That's a little matter we must look into
some time soon. I don't understand why you wished me to leave the
world prematurely. It must surely have been in the interest of someone
else, because I had never heard of you before in my life. But we'll
pass over the incident now as something of greater importance is to
the fore. It was really kind of you, Achille, to sit down there in the
middle of the trail, beside a fire that was sure to serve as a beacon,
and wait for us to come. It reflects little credit, however, on your
skill as a woodsman, and, from sheer kindness of heart, we're not
going to let you stay out in the forest after dark."

Garay turned a frightened look upon him. It was mention of the
bullet in Albany that struck renewed terror to his soul. But Robert,
ordinarily gentle and sympathetic, was not inclined to spare him.

"As I told you," he continued, "Tayoga and I are disposed to be easy
with you, but Willet has a heart as cold as a stone. We saw you going
to the French and Indian camp, and we laid an ambush for you on your
way back. We were expecting to take you, and Willet has talked of you
in merciless fashion. What he intends to do with you is more than I've
been able to determine. Ah, he comes now!"

The parting bushes disclosed a tall figure, rifle ready, and Robert
called cheerily:

"Here we are, Dave, back again, and we bring with us a welcome guest.
Monsieur Achille Garay was lost in the forest, and, taking pity on
him, we've brought him in to share our hospitality. Mr. David Willet,
Monsieur Achille Garay of everywhere."

Willet smiled grimly and led the way back to the spruce shelter. To
Garay's frightened eyes he bore out fully Robert's description.

"You lads seem to have taken him without trouble," he said. "You've
done well. Sit down, Garay, on that log; we've business with you."

Garay obeyed.

"Now," said the hunter, "what message did you take to St. Luc and the
French and Indian force?"

The man was silent. Evidently he was gathering together the shreds of
his courage, as his back stiffened. Willet observed him shrewdly.

"You don't choose to answer," he said. "Well, we'll find a way to make
you later on. But the message you carried was not so important as the
message you're taking back. It's about you, somewhere. Hand over the
dispatch."

"I've no dispatch," said Garay sullenly.

"Oh, yes, you have! A man like you wouldn't be making such a long and
dangerous journey into the high mountains and back again for nothing.
Come, Garay, your letter!"

The spy was silent.

"Search him, lads!" said Willet.

Garay recoiled, but when the hunter threatened him with his pistol
he submitted to the dextrous hands of Robert and Tayoga. They went
through all his pockets, and then they made him remove his clothing
piece by piece, while they thrust the points of their knives through
the lining for concealed documents. But the steel touched nothing.
Then they searched his heavy moccasins, and even pulled the soles
loose, but no papers were disclosed. There was nowhere else to look
and the capture had brought no reward.

"He doesn't seem to have anything," said Robert.

"He must have! He is bound to have!" said the hunter.

"You have had your look," said Garay, a note of triumph showing in
his voice, "and you have failed. I bear no message because I am no
messenger. I am a Frenchman, it is true, but I have no part in this
war. I am not a soldier or a scout. You should let me go."

"But that bullet in Albany."

"I did not fire it. It was someone else. You have made a mistake."

"We've made no mistake," said the hunter. "We know what you are. We
know, too, that a dispatch of great importance is about you somewhere.
It is foolish to think otherwise, and we mean to have it."

"I carry no dispatch," repeated Garay in his sullen, obstinate tones.

"We mean that you shall give it to us," said the hunter, "and soon you
will be glad to do so."

Robert glanced at him, but Willet did not reveal his meaning. It was
impossible to tell what course he meant to take, and the two lads were
willing to let the event disclose itself. The same sardonic humor that
had taken possession of Robert seemed to lay hold of the older man
also.

"Since you're to be our guest for a while, Monsieur Garay," he said,
"we'll give you our finest room. You'll sleep in the spruce shelter,
while we spread our blankets outside. But lest you do harm to
yourself, lest you take into your head some foolish notion to commit
suicide, we'll have to bind you. Tayoga can do it in such a manner
that the thongs will cause you no pain. You'll really admire his
wonderful skill."

The Onondaga bound Garay securely with strips, cut from the prisoner's
own clothing, and they left him lying within the spruce shelter. At
dawn the next day Willet awoke the captive, who had fallen into a
troubled slumber.

"Your letter," he said. "We want it."

"I have no letter," replied Garay stubbornly.

"We shall ask you for it once every two hours, and the time will come
when you'll be glad to give it to us."

Then he turned to the lads and said they would have the finest
breakfast in months to celebrate the good progress of their work.

Robert built up a splendid fire, and, taking their time about it, they
broiled bear meat, strips of the deer they had killed and portions of
wild pigeon and the rare wild turkey. Varied odors, all appetizing,
and the keen, autumnal air gave them an appetite equal to anything.
Yet Willet lingered long, seeing that everything was exactly right
before he gave the word to partake, and then they remained yet
another good while over the feast, getting the utmost relish out of
everything. When they finally rose from their seats on the logs, two
hours had passed since Willet had awakened Garay and he went back to
him.

"Your letter?" he said.

"I have no letter," replied Garay, "but I'm very hungry. Let me have
my breakfast."

"Your letter?"

"I've told you again and again that I've no letter."

"It's now about 8:30 o'clock; at half past ten I'll ask you for it
again."

He went back to the two lads and helped them to put out the fire.
Garay set up a cry for food, and then began to threaten them with the
vengeance of the Indians, but they paid no attention to him. At half
past ten as indicated by the sun, Willet returned to him.

"The letter?" he said.

"How many times am I to tell you that I have no letter?"

"Very well. At half past twelve I shall ask for it again."

At half past twelve Garay returned the same answer, and then the
three ate their noonday meal, which, like the breakfast, was rich and
luscious. Once more the savory odors of bear, deer, wild turkey and
wild pigeon filled the forest, and Garay, lying in the doorway of the
hut, where he could see, and where the splendid aroma reached his
nostrils, writhed in his bonds, but still held fast to his resolution.

Robert said nothing, but the sardonic humor of both the Onondaga and
the hunter was well to the fore. Holding a juicy bear steak in
his hand, Tayoga walked over to the helpless spy and examined him
critically.

"Too fat," he said judicially, "much too fat for those who would roam
the forest. Woodsmen, scouts and runners should be lean. It burdens
them to carry weight. And you, Achille Garay, will be much better off,
if you drop twenty pounds."

"Twenty pounds, Tayoga!" exclaimed Willet, who had joined him, a whole
roasted pigeon in his hands. "How can you make such an underestimate!
Our rotund Monsieur would be far more graceful and far more healthy
if he dropped forty pounds! And it behooves us, his trainers and
physicians, to see that he drops 'em. Then he will go back to Albany
and to his good friend, Mynheer Hendrik Martinus, a far handsomer man
than he was when he left. It may be that he'll be so much improved
that Mynheer Hendrik will not know him. Truly, Tayoga, this wild
pigeon has a most savory taste! When wild pigeon is well cooked and
the air of the forest has sharpened your appetite to a knife edge
nothing is finer."

"But it is no better than the tender steak of young bear," said
Tayoga, with all the inflections of a gourmand. "The people of my
nation and of all the Indian nations have always loved bear. It is
tenderer even than venison and it contains more juices. For the hungry
man nothing is superior to the taste or for the building up of sinews
and muscles than the steak of fat young bear."

Garay writhed again in his bonds, and closed his eyes that he might
shut away the vision of the two. Robert was forced to smile. At half
past two, as he judged it to be by the sun, Willet said to Garay once
more:

"The papers, Monsieur Achille."

But Garay, sullen and obstinate, refused to reply. The hunter did not
repeat the question then, but went back to the fire, whistling gayly a
light tune. The three were spending the day in homely toil, polishing
their weapons, cleaning their clothing, and making the numerous little
repairs, necessary after a prolonged and arduous campaign. They were
very cheerful about it, too. Why shouldn't they be? Both Tayoga and
the hunter had scouted in wide circles about the camp, and had seen
that there was no danger. For a vast distance they and their prisoner
were alone in the forest. So, they luxuriated and with abundance of
appetizing food made up for their long period of short commons.

At half past four Willet repeated his question, but the lips of the
spy remained tightly closed.

"Remember that I'm not urging you," said the hunter, politely. "I'm a
believer in personal independence and I like people to do what they
want to do, as long as it doesn't interfere with anybody else. So I
tell you to think it over. We've plenty of time. We can stay here a
week, two weeks, if need be. We'd rather you felt sure you were right
before you made up your mind. Then you wouldn't be remorseful about
any mistake."

"A wise man meditates long before he speaks," said Tayoga, "and it
follows then that our Achille Garay is very wise. He knows, too, that
his figure is improving already. He has lost at least five pounds."

"Nearer eight I sum it up, Tayoga," said Willet. "The improvement is
very marked."

"I think you are right, Great Bear. Eight it is and you also speak
truly about the improvement. If our Monsieur Garay were able to stand
up and walk he would be much more graceful than he was, when he so
kindly marched into our guiding hands."

"Don't pay him too many compliments, Tayoga. They'll prove trying to
a modest man. Come away, now. Monsieur Garay wishes to spend the next
two hours with his own wise thoughts and who are we to break in upon
such a communion?"

"The words of wisdom fall like precious beads from your lips, Great
Bear. For two hours we will leave our guest to his great thoughts."

At half past six came the question, "Your papers?" once more, and
Garay burst forth with an angry refusal, though his voice trembled.
Willet shrugged his shoulders, turned away, and helped the lads
prepare a most luxurious and abundant evening meal, Tayoga adding wild
grapes and Robert nuts to their varied course of meats, the grapes
being served on blazing red autumn leaves, the whole very pleasing to
the eye as well as to the taste.

"I think," said Willet, in tones heard easily by Garay, "that I have
in me just a trace of the epicure. I find, despite my years in the
wilderness, that I enjoy a well spread board, and that bits of
decoration appeal to me; in truth, give an added savor to the viands."

"In the vale of Onondaga when the fifty old and wise sachems make a
banquet," said Tayoga, "the maidens bring fruit and wild flowers to
it that the eye also may have its feast. It is not a weakness, but an
excellence in Great Bear to like the decorations."

They lingered long over the board, protracting the feast far after the
fall of night and interspersing it with pleasant conversation. The
ruddy flames shone on their contented faces, and their light laughter
came frequently to the ears of Garay. At half past eight the question,
grown deadly by repetition, was asked, and, when only a curse came,
Willet said:

"As it is night I'll ask you, Achille Garay, for your papers only
once every four hours. That is the interval at which we'll change our
guard, and we don't wish, either, to disturb you many times in your
pleasant slumbers. It would not be right to call a man back too often
from the land of Tarenyawagon, who, you may know, is the Iroquois
sender of dreams."

Garay, whom they had now laid tenderly upon the floor of the hut,
turned his face away, and Willet went back to the fire, humming in a
pleased fashion to himself. At half past twelve he awoke Garay from
his uneasy sleep and propounded to him his dreadful query, grown
terrifying by its continual iteration. At half past four Tayoga asked
it, and it was not necessary then to awake Garay. He had not slept
since half past twelve. He snarled at the Iroquois, and then sank back
on the blanket that they had kindly placed for him. Tayoga, his bronze
face expressing nothing, went back to his watch by the fire.

Breakfast was cooked by Robert and Willet, and again it was luscious
and varied. Robert had risen early and he caught several of the fine
lake trout that he broiled delicately over the coals. He had
also gathered grapes fresh with the morning dew, and wonderfully
appetizing, and some of the best of the nuts were left over. Bear,
deer, venison and turkey they still had in abundance.

The morning itself was the finest they had encountered so far. Much
snow had fallen in the high mountains, but winter had not touched the
earth here. The deep colors of the leaves, moved by the light wind,
shifted and changed like a prism. The glorious haze of Indian summer
hung over everything like a veil of finest gauze. The air was
surcharged with vitality and life. It was pleasant merely to sit and
breathe at such a time.

"I've always claimed," said Robert, as he passed a beautifully broiled
trout to Tayoga and another to the hunter, "that I can cook fish
better than either of you. Dave, I freely admit, can surpass me in the
matter of venison and Tayoga is a finer hand with bear than I am, but
I'm a specialist with fish, be it salmon, or trout, or salmon trout,
or perch or pickerel or what not."

"Your boast is justified, in very truth, Robert," said Willet. "I've
known none other who can prepare a fish with as much tenderness and
perfection as you. I suppose 'tis born in you, but you have a way of
preserving the juices and savors which defies description and which is
beyond praise. 'Tis worth going hungry a long while to put one's tooth
into so delicate a morsel as this salmon trout, and 'tis a great pity,
too, that our guest, Monsieur Achille Garay, will not join us, when
we've an abundance so great and a variety so rich."

The wretched spy and intermediary could hear every word they said, and
Robert fell silent, but the hunter and the Onondaga talked freely and
with abounding zest.

"'Tis a painful thing," said Willet, "to offer hospitality and to
have it refused. Monsieur Garay knows that he would be welcome at our
board, and yet he will not come. I fear, Robert, that you have cooked
too many of these superlative fish, and that they must even go to
waste, which is a sin. They would make an admirable beginning for our
guest's breakfast, if he would but consent to join us."

"It is told by the wise old sachems of the great League," said Tayoga,
"that warriors have gone many days without food, when plenty of it
was ready for their taking, merely to test their strength of body and
will. Their sufferings were acute and terrible. Their flesh wasted
away, their muscles became limp and weak, their sight failed, pain
stabbed them with a thousand needles, but they would not yield and
touch sustenance before the time appointed."

"I've heard of many such cases, Tayoga, and I've seen some, but it was
always warriors who were doing the fasting. I doubt whether white men
could stand it so long, and 'tis quite sure they would suffer more.
About the third day 'twould be as bad as being tied to the stake in the
middle of the flames."

"Great Bear speaks the truth, as he always does. No white man can
stand it. If he tried it his sufferings would be beyond anything of
which he might dream."

A groan burst suddenly from the wretched Garay. The hunter and the
Onondaga looked at each other and their eyes expressed astonishment.

"Did you hear a sound in the thicket?" asked Willet.

"I think it came from the boughs overhead," said Tayoga.

"I could have sworn 'twas the growl of a bear."

"To me it sounded like the croak of a crow."

"After all, we may have heard nothing. Imagination plays strange
tricks with us."

"It is true, Great Bear. We hear queer sounds when there are no sounds
at all. The air is full of spirits, and now and then they have sport
with us."

A second groan burst from Garay, now more wretched than ever.

"I heard it again!" exclaimed the hunter. "'Tis surely the growl of
a bear in the bush! The sound was like that of an angry wild animal!
But, we'll let it go. The sun tells meet's half past eight o'clock and
I go to ask our guest the usual question."

"Enough!" exclaimed Garay. "I yield! I cannot bear this any longer!"

"Your papers, please!"

"Unbind me and give me food!"

"Your papers first, our fish next."

As he spoke the hunter leaned over, and with his keen hunting knife
severed Garay's bonds. The man sat up, rubbed his wrists and ankles
and breathed deeply.

"Your papers!" repeated Willet.

"Bring me my pistol, the one that the Indian filched from me while I
slept," said Garay.

"Your pistol!" exclaimed the hunter, in surprise. "Now I'd certainly
be foolish to hand you a deadly and loaded weapon!"

But Robert's quick intellect comprehended at once. He snatched the
heavy pistol from the Onondaga's belt, drew forth the bullet and then
drew the charge behind it, not powder at all, but a small, tightly
folded paper of tough tissue, which he held aloft triumphantly.

"Very clever! very clever!" said Willet in admiration. "The pistol was
loaded, but 'twould never be fired, and nobody would have thought of
searching its barrel. Tayoga, give Monsieur Garay the two spare fish
and anything else he wants, but see that he eats sparingly because a
gorge will go ill with a famished man, and then we'll have a look at
his precious document."

The Onondaga treated Garay as the honored guest they had been calling
him, giving him the whole variety of their breakfast, but, at guarded
intervals, which allowed him to relish to the full all the savors and
juices that had been taunting him so long. Willet opened the letter,
smoothed it out carefully on his knee, and holding it up to the light
until the words stood out clearly, read:

"To Hendrik Martinus At Albany.

"The intermediary of whom you know, the bearer of this letter, has
brought me word from you that the English Colonial troops, after the
unfortunate battle at Lake George, have not pushed their victory. He
also informs us that the governors of the English colonies do not
agree, and that there is much ill feeling among the different Colonial
forces. He says that Johnson still suffering from his wound, does not
move, and that the spirit has gone out of our enemies. All of which is
welcome news to us at this juncture, since it has given to us the time
that we need.

"Our defeat but incites us to greater efforts. The Indian tribes who
have cast their lot with us are loyal to our arms. All the forces of
France and New France are being assembled to crush our foes. We have
lost Dieskau, but a great soldier, Louis Joseph de Saint Véran, the
Marquis de Montcalm-Gozon, is coming from France to lead our armies.
He will be assisted by the incomparable chieftains, the Chevalier de
Levis, the Chevalier Bourlamaque and others who understand the warfare
of the wilderness. Even now we are preparing to move with a great
power on Albany and we may surprise the town.

"Tell those of whom you know in Albany and New York to be ready with
rifles and ammunition and other presents for the Indian warriors. Much
depends upon their skill and promptness in delivering these valuable
goods to the tribes. It seals them to our standard. They can be landed
at the places of which we know, and then be carried swiftly across the
wilderness. But I bid you once more to exercise exceeding caution. Let
no name of those associated with us ever be entrusted to writing, as a
single slip might bring our whole fabric crashing to the ground, and
send to death those who serve us. After you have perused this letter
destroy it. Do not tear it in pieces and throw them away but burn it
to the last and least little fragment. In conclusion I say yet again,
caution, caution, caution.

Raymond Louis de St. Luc."

The three looked at one another. Garay was in the third course of his
breakfast, and no longer took notice of anything else.

"Those associated with us in Albany and New York," quoted Willet. "Now
I wonder who they are. I might make a shrewd guess at one, but no
names are given and as we have no proof we must keep silent about him
for the present. Yet this paper is of vast importance and it must be
put in hands that know how to value it."

"Then the hands must be those of Colonel William Johnson," said
Robert.

"I fancy you're right, lad. Yet 'tis hard just now to decide upon the
wisest policy."

"The colonel is the real leader of our forces," persisted the lad.
"It's to him that we must go."

"It looks so, Robert, but for a few days we've got to consider
ourselves. Now that we have his letter I wish we didn't have Garay."

"You wouldn't really have starved him, would you, Dave? Somehow it
seemed pretty hard."

The hunter laughed heartily.

"Bless your heart, lad," he replied. "Don't you be troubled about the
way we dealt with Garay. I knew all the while that he would never get
to the starving point, or I wouldn't have tried it with him. I knew by
looking at him that his isn't the fiber of which martyrs are made. I
calculated that he would give up last night or this morning."

"Are we going to take him back with us a prisoner?"

"That's the trouble. As a spy, which he undoubtedly is, his life is
forfeit, but we are not executioners. For scouts and messengers such
as we are he'd be a tremendous burden to take along with us. Moreover,
I think that after his long fast he'd eat all the game we could kill,
and we don't propose to spend our whole time feeding one of our
enemies."

"Call Tayoga," said Robert.

The Onondaga came and then young Lennox said to his two comrades:

"Are you willing to trust me in the matter of Garay, our prisoner?"

"Yes," they replied together.

Robert went to the man, who was still immersed in his gross feeding,
and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Listen, Garay," he said. "You're the bearer of secret and treacherous
dispatches, and you're a spy. You must know that under all the rules
of war your life is forfeit to your captors."

Garay's face became gray and ghastly.

"You--you wouldn't murder me?" he said.

"There could be no such thing as murder in your case, and we won't
take your life, either."

The face of the intermediary recovered its lost color.

"You will spare me, then?" he exclaimed joyfully.

"In a way, yes, but we're not going to carry you back in luxury to
Albany, nor are we thinking of making you an honored member of our
band. You've quite a time before you."

"I don't understand you."

"You will soon. You're going back to the Chevalier de St. Luc who has
little patience with failure, and you'll find that the road to him
abounds in hard traveling. It may be, too, that the savage Tandakora
will ask you some difficult questions, but if so, Monsieur Achille
Garay, it will be your task to answer them, and I take it that you
have a fertile mind. In any event, you will be equipped to meet him by
your journey, which will be full of variety and effort and which will
strengthen and harden your mind."

The face of Garay paled again, and he gazed at Robert in a sort of
dazed fashion. The imagination of young Lennox was alive and leaping.
He had found what seemed to him a happy solution of a knotty problem,
and, as usual in such cases, his speech became fluent and golden.

"Oh, you'll enjoy it, Monsieur Achille Garay," he said in his mellow,
persuasive voice. "The forest is beautiful at this time of the year
and the mountains are so magnificent always that they must appeal to
anyone who has in his soul the strain of poetry that I know you have.
The snow, too, I think has gone from the higher peaks and ridges and
you will not be troubled by extreme cold. If you should wander from
the path back to St. Luc you will have abundant leisure in which to
find it again, because for quite a while to come time will be of no
importance to you. And as you'll go unarmed, you'll be in no danger of
shooting your friends by mistake."

"You're not going to turn me into the wilderness to starve?"

"Not at all. We'll give you plenty of food. Tayoga and I will see you
well on your way. Now, since you've eaten enough, you start at once."

Tayoga and the hunter fell in readily with Robert's plan. The captive
received enough food to last four days, which he carried in a pack
fastened on his back, and then Robert and Tayoga accompanied him
northward and back on the trail.

Much of Garay's courage returned as they marched steadily on through
the forest. When he summed it up he found that he had fared well. His
captors had really been soft-hearted. It was not usual for one serving
as an intermediary and spy like himself to escape, when taken, with
his life and even with freedom. Life! How precious it was! Young
Lennox had said that the forest was beautiful, and it was! It was
splendid, grand, glorious to one who had just come out of the jaws of
death, and the air of late autumn was instinct with vitality. He drew
himself up jauntily, and his step became strong and springy.

They walked on many miles and Robert, whose speech had been so fluent
before, was silent now. Nor did the Onondaga speak either. Garay
himself hazarded a few words, but meeting with no response his spirits
fell a little. The trail led over a low ridge, and at its crest his
two guards stopped.

"Here we bid you farewell, Monsieur Achille Garay," said Robert.
"Doubtless you will wish to commune with your own thoughts and our
presence will no longer disturb you. Our parting advice to you is to
give up the trade in which you have been engaged. It is full perilous,
and it may be cut short at any time by sudden death. Moreover, it is
somewhat bare of honor, and even if it should be crowned by continued
success 'tis success of a kind that's of little value. Farewell."

"Farewell," said Garay, and almost before he could realize it, the two
figures had melted into the forest behind him. A weight was lifted
from him with their going, and once more his spirits bounded upward.
He was Achille Garay, bold and venturesome, and although he was
without weapons he did not fear two lads.

Three miles farther on he turned. He did not care to face St. Luc, his
letter lost, and the curious, dogged obstinacy that lay at the back of
his character prevailed. He would go back. He would reach those for
whom his letter had been intended, Martinus and the others, and he
would win the rich rewards that had been promised to him. He had
plenty of food, he would make a wide curve, advance at high speed and
get to Albany ahead of the foolish three.

He turned his face southward and walked swiftly through the thickets.
A rifle cracked and a twig overhead severed by a bullet fell upon his
face. Garay shivered and stood still for a long time. Courage trickled
back, and he resumed his advance, though it was slow. A second rifle
cracked, and a bullet passed so close to his cheek that he felt its
wind. He could not restrain a cry of terror, and turning again he fled
northward to St. Luc.




CHAPTER VI


PUPILS OF THE BEAR

When Robert and Tayoga returned to the camp and told Willet what they
had done the hunter laughed a little.

"Garay doesn't want to face St. Luc," he said, "but he will do it
anyhow. He won't dare to come back on the trail in face of bullets,
and now we're sure to deliver his letter in ample time."

"Should we go direct to Albany?" asked Robert.

The hunter cupped his chin in his hand and meditated.

"I'm all for Colonel Johnson," he replied at last. "He understands the
French and Indians and has more vigor than the authorities at Albany.
It seems likely to me that he will still be at the head of Lake George
where we left him, perhaps building the fort of which they were
talking before we left there."

"His wound did not give promise of getting well so very early," said
Robert, "and he would not move while he was in a weakened condition."

"Then it's almost sure that he's at the head of the lake and we'll
turn our course toward that point. What do you say, Tayoga?"

"Waraiyageh is the man to have the letter, Great Bear. If it becomes
necessary for him to march to the defense of Albany he will do it."

"Then the three of us are in unanimity and Lake George it is instead
of Albany."

They started in an hour, and changing their course somewhat, began a
journey across the maze of mountains toward Andiatarocte, the lake
that men now call George, and Robert's heart throbbed at the thought
that he would soon see it again in all its splendor and beauty. He had
passed so much of his life near them that his fortunes seemed to him
to be interwoven inseparably with George and Champlain.

They thought they would reach the lake in a few days, but in a
wilderness and in war the plans of men often come to naught. Before
the close of the day they came upon traces of a numerous band
traveling on the great trail between east and west, and they also
found among them footprints that turned out. These Willet and Tayoga
examined with the greatest care and interest and they lingered longest
over a pair uncommonly long and slender.

"I think they're his," the hunter finally said.

"So do I," said the Onondaga.

"Those long, slim feet could belong to nobody but the Owl."

"It can be only the Owl."

"Now, who under the sun is the Owl?" asked Robert, mystified.

"The Owl is, in truth, a most dangerous man," replied the hunter. "His
name, which the Indians have given him, indicates he works by night,
though he's no sloth in the day, either. But he has another name,
also, the one by which he was christened. It's Charles Langlade, a
young Frenchman who was a trader before the war. I've seen him more
than once. He's mighty shrewd and alert, uncommon popular among the
western Indians, who consider him as one of them because he married a
good looking young Indian woman at Green Bay, and a great forester and
wilderness fighter. It's wonderful how the French adapt themselves to
the ways of the Indians and how they take wives among them. I suppose
the marriage tie is one of their greatest sources of strength with the
tribes. Now, Tayoga, why do you think the Owl is here so far to the
eastward of his usual range?"

"He and his warriors are looking for scalps, Great Bear, and it may be
that they have seen St. Luc. They were traveling fast and they are now
between us and Andiatarocte. I like it but little."

"Not any less than I do. It upsets our plans. We must leave the trail,
or like as not we'll run squarely into a big band. What a pity our
troops didn't press on after the victory at the lake. Instead of
driving the French and Indians out of the whole northern wilderness
we've left it entirely to them."

They turned from the trail with reluctance, because, strong and
enduring as they were, incessant hardships, long traveling and battle
were beginning to tell upon all three, and they were unwilling to be
climbing again among the high mountains. But there was no choice and
night found them on a lofty ridge in a dense thicket. The hunter and
the Onondaga were disturbed visibly over the advent of Langlade, and
their uneasiness was soon communicated to the sympathetic mind of
Robert.

The night being very clear, sown with shining stars, they saw rings of
smoke rising toward the east, and outlined sharply against the dusky
blue.

"That's Langlade sending up signals," said the hunter, anxiously, "and
he wouldn't do it unless he had something to talk about."

"When one man speaks another man answers," said Tayoga. "Now from what
point will come the reply?"

Robert felt excitement. These rings of smoke in the blue were full
of significance for them, and the reply to the first signal would be
vital. "Ah!" he exclaimed suddenly. The answer came from the west,
directly behind them.

"I think they've discovered our trail," said Willet. "They didn't
learn it from Garay, because Langlade passed before we sent him back,
but they might have heard from St. Luc or Tandakora that we were
somewhere in the forest. It's bad. If it weren't for the letter we
could turn sharply to the north and stay in the woods till Christmas,
if need be."

"We may have to do so, whether we wish it or not," said Tayoga. "The
shortest way is not always the best."

Before morning they saw other smoke signals in the south, and it
became quite evident then that the passage could not be tried, except
at a risk perhaps too great to take.

"There's nothing for it but the north," said Willet, "and we'll trust
to luck to get the letter to Waraiyageh in time. Perhaps we can find
Rogers. He must be roaming with his rangers somewhere near Champlain."

At dawn they were up and away, but all through the forenoon they
saw rings of smoke rising from the peaks and ridges, and the last
lingering hope that they were not followed disappeared. It became
quite evident to their trained observation and the powers of inference
from circumstances which had become almost a sixth sense with them
that there was a vigorous pursuit, closing in from three points of the
compass, south, east and west. They slept again the next night in the
forest without fire and arose the following morning cold, stiff and
out of temper. While they eased their muscles and prepared for the
day's flight they resolved upon a desperate expedient.

It was vital now to carry the letter to Johnson and then to Albany,
which they considered more important than their own escape, and they
could not afford to be driven farther and farther into the recesses of
the north, while St. Luc might be marching with a formidable force on
Albany itself.

"With us it's unite to fight and divide for flight," said Robert,
divining what was in the mind of the others.

"The decision is forced upon us," said Willet, regretfully.

Tayoga nodded.

"We'll read the letter again several times, until all of us know it by
heart," said the hunter.

The precious document was produced, and they went over it until each
could repeat it from memory. Then Willet said:

"I'm the oldest and I'll take the letter and go south past their
bands. One can slip through where three can't."

He spoke with such decision that the others, although Tayoga wanted
the task of risk and honor, said nothing.

"And do you, Robert and Tayoga," resumed the hunter, "continue your
flight to the northward. You can keep ahead of these bands, and, when
you discover the chase has stopped, curve back for Lake George. If by
any chance I should fall by the way, though it's not likely, you can
repeat the letter to Colonel Johnson, and let's hope you'll be in
time. Now good-by, and God bless you both."

Willet never displayed emotion, but his feeling was very deep as he
wrung the outstretched hand of each. Then he turned at an angle to the
east and south and disappeared in the undergrowth.

"He has been more than a father to me," said Robert.

"The Great Bear is a man, a man who is pleasing to Areskoui himself,"
said Tayoga with emphasis.

"Do you think he will get safely through?"

"There is no warrior, not even of the Clan of the Bear, of the Nation
Onondaga, of the great League of the Hodenosaunee, who can surpass the
Great Bear in forest skill and cunning. In the night he will creep by
Tandakora himself, with such stealth, that not a leaf will stir, and
there will be not the slightest whisper in the grass. His step, too,
will be so light that his trail will be no more than a bird's in the
air."

Robert laughed and felt better.

"You don't stint the praise of a friend, Tayoga," he said, "but I know
that at least three-fourths of what you say is true. Now, I take it
that you and I are to play the hare to Langlade's hounds, and that in
doing so we'll be of great help to Dave."

"Aye," agreed the Onondaga, and they swung into their gait. Robert had
received Garay's pistol which, being of the same bore as his own, was
now loaded with bullet and powder, instead of bullet and paper, and it
swung at his belt, while Tayoga carried the intermediary's rifle, a
fine piece. It made an extra burden, but they had been unwilling
to throw it away--a rifle was far too valuable on the border to be
abandoned.

They maintained a good pace until noon, and, as they heard no sound
behind them, less experienced foresters than they might have thought
the pursuit had ceased, but they knew better. It had merely settled
into that tenacious kind which was a characteristic of the Indian
mind, and unless they could hide their trail it would continue in the
same determined manner for days. At noon, they paused a half hour in a
dense grove and ate bear and deer meat, sauced with some fine, black
wild grapes, the vines hanging thick on one of the trees.

"Think of those splendid banquets we enjoyed when Garay was sitting
looking at us, though not sharing with us," said Robert.

Tayoga smiled at the memory and said:

"If he had been able to hold out a little longer he would have had
plenty of food, and we would not have had the letter. The Great Bear
would never have starved him."

"I know that now, Tayoga, and I learn from it that we're to hold out
too, long after we think we're lost, if we're to be the victors."

They came in the afternoon to a creek, flowing in their chosen course,
and despite the coldness of its waters, which rose almost to their
knees, they waded a long time in its bed. When they went out on the
bank they took off their leggings and moccasins, wrung or beat out of
them as much of the water as they could, and then let them dry for a
space in the sun, while they rubbed vigorously their ankles and feet
to create warmth. They knew that Langlade's men would follow on either
side of the creek until they picked up the trail again, but their
maneuver would create a long delay, and give them a rest needed badly.

"Have you anything in mind, Tayoga?" asked Robert. "You know that the
farther north and higher we go the colder it will become, and our
flight may take us again into the very heart of a great snow storm."

"It is so, Dagaeoga, but it is also so that I do have a plan. I think
I know the country into which we are coming, and that tells me what to
do. The people of my race, living from the beginning of the world in
the great forest, have not been too proud to learn from the animals,
and of all the animals we know perhaps the wisest is the bear."

"The bear is scarcely an animal, Tayoga. He is almost a human being.
He has as good a sense of humor as we have, and he is more careful
about minding his own business, and letting alone that of other
people."

"Dagaeoga is not without wisdom. We will even learn from the bear.
A hundred miles to the north of us there is a vast rocky region
containing many caves, where the bears go in great numbers to sleep
the long winters through. It is not much disturbed, because it is
a dangerous country, lying between the Hodenosaunee and the Indian
nations to the north, with which we have been at war for centuries.
There we will go."

"And hole up until our peril passes! Your plan appeals to me, Tayoga!
I will imitate the bear! I will even be a bear!"

"We will take the home of one of them before he comes for it himself,
and we will do him no injustice, because the wise bear can always find
another somewhere else."

"They're fine caves, of course!" exclaimed Robert, buoyantly, his
imagination, which was such a powerful asset with him, flaming up as
usual. "Dry and clean, with plenty of leaves for beds, and with nice
little natural shelves for food, and a pleasant little brook just
outside the door. It will be pleasant to lie in our own cave, the best
one of course, and hear the snow and sleet storms whistle by, while
we're warm and comfortable. If we only had complete assurance that
Dave was through with the letter I'd be willing to stay there until
spring."

Tayoga smiled indulgently.

"Dagaeoga is always dreaming," he said, "but bright dreams hurt
nobody."

When night came, they were many more miles on their way, but it was
a very cold darkness that fell upon them and they shivered in their
blankets. Robert made no complaint, but he longed for the caves, of
which he was making such splendid pictures. Shortly before morning, a
light snow fell and the dawn was chill and discouraging, so much so
that Tayoga risked a fire for the sake of brightness and warmth.

"Langlade's men will come upon the coals we leave," he said, "but
since we have not shaken them off it will make no difference. How much
food have we left, Dagaeoga?"

"Not more than enough for three days."

"Then it is for us to find more soon. It is another risk that we must
take. I wish I had with me now my bow and arrows which I left at the
lake, instead of Garay's rifle. But Areskoui will provide."

The day turned much colder, and the streams to which they came were
frozen over. By night, the ice was thick enough to sustain their
weight and they traveled on it for a long time, their thick moosehide
moccasins keeping their feet warm, and saving them from falling.
Before they returned to the land it began to snow again, and Tayoga
rejoiced openly.

"Now a white blanket will lie over the trail we have left on the ice,"
he said, "hiding it from the keenest eyes that ever were in a man's
head."

Then they crossed a ridge and came upon a lake, by the side of which
they saw through the snow and darkness a large fire burning. Creeping
nearer, they discerned dusky forms before the flames and made out a
band of at least twenty warriors, many of them sound asleep, wrapped
to the eyes in their blankets.

"Have they passed ahead of us and are they here meaning to guard the
way against us?" whispered Robert.

"No, it is not one of the bands that has been following us," replied
the Onondaga. "This is a war party going south, and not much stained
as yet by time and travel. They are Montagnais, come from Montreal.
They seek scalps, but not ours, because they do not know of us."

Robert shuddered. These savages, like as not, would fall at midnight
upon some lone settlement, and his intense imagination depicted the
hideous scenes to follow.

"Come away," he whispered. "Since they don't know anything about us
we'll keep them in ignorance. I'm longing more than ever for my warm
bear cave."

They disappeared in the falling snow, which would soon hide their
trail here, as it had hidden it elsewhere, and left the lake behind
them, not stopping until they came to a deep and narrow gorge in the
mountains, so well sheltered by overhanging bushes that no snow fell
there. They raked up great quantities of dry leaves, after the usual
fashion, and spread their blankets upon them, poor enough quarters
save for the hardiest, but made endurable for them by custom and
intense weariness. Both fell asleep almost at once, and both awoke
about the same time far after dawn.

Robert moved his stiff fingers in his blanket and sat up, feeling cold
and dismal. Tayoga was sitting up also, and the two looked at each
other.

"In very truth those bear caves never seemed more inviting to me,"
said young Lennox, solemnly, "and yet I only see them from afar."

"Dagaeoga has fallen in love with bear caves," said the Onondaga, in
a whimsical tone. "The time is not so far back when he never talked
about them at all, and now words in their praise fall from his lips in
a stream."

"It's because I've experienced enlightenment, Tayoga. It is only in
the last two or three days that I've learned the vast superiority of a
cave to any other form of human habitation. Our remote ancestors lived
in them two or three hundred thousand years, and we've been living in
houses of wood or brick or stone only six or seven thousand years, I
suppose, and so the cave, if you judge by the length of time, is our
true home. Hence I'm filled with a just enthusiasm at the thought of
going back speedily to the good old ways and the good old days. It's
possible, Tayoga, that our remote grandfathers knew best."

"When Dagaeoga comes to his death bed, seventy or eighty years from
now, and the medicine man tells him but little more breath is left in
his body, what then do you think he will do?"

"What will I do, Tayoga?"

"You will say to the medicine man, 'Tell me exactly how long I have
to live,' and the medicine man will reply: 'Ten minutes, O Dagaeoga,
venerable chief and great orator.' Then you will say: 'Let all the
people be summoned and let them crowd into the wigwam in which I lie,'
and when they have all come and stand thick about your bed, you will
say, 'Now raise me into a sitting position and put the pillows thick
behind my back and head that I may lean against them.' Then you
will speak to the people. The words will flow from your lips in a
continuous and golden stream. It will be the finest speech of your
life. It will be filled with magnificent words, many of them, eight or
ten syllables long. It will be mellow like the call of a trumpet. It
will be armed with force, and it will be beautiful with imagery; it
will be suffused and charged with color, it will be the very essence
of poetry and power, and as the aged Dagaeoga draws his very last
breath so he will speak his very last word, and thus, in a golden
cloud, his soul will go away into infinite space, to dwell forever
in the bosom of Manitou, with the immortal sachems, Tododaho and
Hayowentha!"

"Do you know, Tayoga, I think that would be a happy death," said
Robert earnestly.

The Onondaga laughed heartily.

"Thus does Dagaeoga show his true nature," he said. "He was born with
the spirit and soul of the orator, and the fact is disclosed often. It
is well. The orator, be he white or red, will lose himself sometimes
in his own words, but he is a gift from the gods, sent to lift up the
souls, and cheer the rest of us. He is the bugle that calls us to the
chase and we must not forget that his value is great."

"And having said a whole cargo of words yourself Tayoga, now what do
you propose that we do?"

"Push on with all our strength for the caves. I know now we are on the
right path, because I recall the country through which we are passing.
At noon we will reach a small lake, in which the fish are so numerous
that there is not room for them all at the same time in the water.
They have to take turns in getting the air above the surface on top of
the others. For that reason the fish of this lake are different from
all other fish. They will live a full hour on the bank after they are
caught."

"Tayoga, in very truth, you've learned our ways well. You've become a
prince of romancers yourself."

At the appointed time they reached the lake. There were no fish above
its surface, but the Onondaga claimed it was due to the fact that the
lake was covered with ice which of course kept them down, and which
crowded them excessively, and very uncomfortably. They broke two big
holes in the ice, let down the lines which they always carried, the
hooks baited with fragments of meat, and were soon rewarded with
splendid fish, as much as they needed.

Tayoga with his usual skill lighted a fire, despite the driving snow,
and they had a banquet, taking with them afterward a supply of the
cooked fish, though they knew they could not rely upon fish alone in
the winter days that were coming. But fortune was with them. Before
dark, Robert shot a deer, a great buck, fine and fat. They had so
little fear of pursuit now that they cut up the body, saving the skin
whole for tanning, and hung the pieces in the trees, there to
freeze. Although it would make quite a burden they intended to carry
practically all of it with them.

Many mountain wolves were drawn that night by the odor of the spoils,
but they lay between twin fires and had no fear of an attack. Yet the
time might come when they would be assailed by fierce wild animals,
and now they were glad that Tayoga had kept Garay's rifle, and also
his ammunition, a good supply of powder and bullets. It was possible
that the question of ammunition might become vital with them, but they
did not yet talk of it.

On the second day thereafter, bearing their burdens of what had been
the deer, they reached the stony valley Tayoga had in mind, and Robert
saw at once that its formation indicated many caves.

"Now, I wonder if the bears have come," he said, putting down his pack
and resting. "The cold has been premature and perhaps they're still
roaming through the forest. I shouldn't want to put an interloper out
of my own particular cave, but, if I have to do it, I will."

"The bears haven't arrived yet," said Tayoga, "and we can choose. I do
not know, but I do not think a bear always occupies the same winter
home, so we will not have to fight over our place."

It was a really wonderful valley, where the decaying stone had made a
rich assortment of small caves, many of them showing signs of former
occupancy by large wild animals, and, after long searching, they found
one that they could make habitable for themselves. Its entrance was
several feet above the floor of the valley, so that neither storm nor
winter flood could send water into it, and its own floor was fairly
smooth, with a roof eight or ten feet high. It could be easily
defended with their three rifles, the aperture being narrow, and they
expected, with skins and pelts, to make it warm.

It was but a cold and bleak refuge for all save the hardiest, and
for a little while Robert had to use his last ounce of will to save
himself from discouragement. But vigorous exertion and keen interest
in the future brought back his optimism. The hide of the deer they had
slain was spread at once upon the cave floor and made a serviceable
rug. They spoke hopefully of soon adding to it.

A brook flowed less than a hundred yards away, and they would have
no trouble about their water supply, while the country about seemed
highly favorable for game. But on their first day there they did not
do any hunting. They rolled several large stones before the door of
their new home, making it secure against any prying wild animals, and
then, after a hearty meal, they wrapped themselves in their blankets
and slept prodigiously.

Tayoga went into the forest the next day and set traps and snares,
while Robert worked in the valley, breaking up fallen wood to be used
for fires, and doing other chores. The Onondaga in the next three or
four days shot a large panther, a little bear, and caught in the traps
and snares a quantity of small game. The big pelts and the little
pelts, after proper treatment, were spread upon the floor or hung
against the walls of the cave, which now began to assume a much more
inviting aspect, and the flesh of the animals that were eatable, cured
after the primitive but effective processes, was stored there also.

Providence granted them a period of good weather, days and nights
alike being clear and cold. The game, evidently not molested for a
long time, fairly walked into their traps, and they were compelled to
draw but little upon their precious supply of ammunition. Food for the
future accumulated rapidly, and the floor and walls of the cave were
soon covered entirely with furs.

Not one of the numerous caves and hollows about them contained an
occupant and Robert wondered if their presence would frighten away the
wild animals, so many of which had hibernated there so often. Yet he
had a belief that the bears would come. His present mode of life and
his isolation from the world gave him a feeling almost of kinship with
them, and in some strange way, and through some medium unknown to him,
they might reciprocate. He and Tayoga had killed several bears, it was
true, but far from the cave, and they made up their minds to molest
nothing in the valley or just about it.

It was a land of many waters and they caught with ease numerous fish,
drying all the surplus and storing it with the other food in the cave.
They also made soft beds for themselves of the little branches of the
evergreen, over which they spread their blankets, and when they rolled
the stone before the doorway at night they never failed to sleep
soundly.

They did their cooking in front of the cave door, but it was always
a smothered fire. While they felt safe from wandering bands in that
lofty and remote region, they took no unnecessary risks. The valley
itself, though deep, was much broken up into separate little valleys,
and most of the caves were hidden from their own. It was this fact
that made Robert still think the bears would come, despite coals and
flame. In the evenings they would talk of Willet, and both were firm
in the opinion that the hunter had got through to Lake George and that
Johnson and Albany had been warned in time. Each was confirmed in his
opinion by the other and in a few days it became certainty.

"I think Tododaho on his star whispered in my ear while I slept that
Great Bear has passed the hostile lines," said Tayoga with conviction,
"because I know it, just as if the Great Bear himself had told it to
me, though I do not know how I know it."

"It's some sort of mysterious information," said Robert in the same
tone of absolute belief, "and I don't worry any more about Dave and
the letter. The men of the Hodenosaunee seem to have a special gift.
You know the old chief, Hendrik, foretold that he would die on the
shores of Andiatarocte, and it came to pass just as he had said."

"It was a glorious death, Dagaeoga, and it was, perhaps, he who saved
our army, and made the victory possible."

"So it was. There's not a doubt of it, but, here, I don't feel much
like taking part in a war. The great struggle seems to have passed
around us for a while, at least. I appear to myself as a man of peace,
occupied wholly with the struggle for existence and with preparations
for a hard winter. I don't want to harm anything."

"Perhaps it's because nothing we know of wants to harm us. But,
Dagaeoga, if the bears come at all they will come quickly, because in
a few days winter will be roaring down upon us."

"Then, Tayoga, we must hurry our labors, and since the mysterious
message brought in some manner through the air has told us that Dave
has reached the lake, I'm rather anxious for it to rush down. While it
keeps us here it will also hold back the forces of St. Luc."

"That's true, Dagaeoga. It's a poor snow that doesn't help somebody.
Now, I will make a bow and arrow to take the place of my great bow and
quiver, which await me elsewhere, because we must draw but little upon
our powder and bullets."

The Onondaga had hatchet and knife and he worked with great rapidity
and skill, cutting and bending a bow in two or three days, and making
a string of strong sinews, after which he fashioned many arrows and
tipped them with sharp bone. Then he contemplated his handiwork with
pride.

"Hasty work is never the best of work," he said, "and these are not as
good as those I left behind me, but I know they will serve. The game
here, hunted but little, is not very wary and I can approach near."

His skill both in construction and use was soon proved, as he slew
with his new weapons a great moose, two ordinary deer, and much
smaller game, while the traps caught beaver, otter, fox, wolf and
other animals, with fine pelts. Many splendid furs were soon drying
in the air and were taken later into the cave, while they accumulated
dried and jerked game enough to last them until the next spring.

Both worked night and day with such application and intensity that
their hands became stiff and sore, and every bone in them ached.
Nevertheless Robert took time now and then to examine the little caves
in the other sections of the valley, only to find them still empty.
He thought, for a while, that the presence of Tayoga and himself and
their operations with the game might have frightened the bears away,
but the feeling that they would come returned and was strong upon him.
As for Tayoga he never doubted. It had been decreed by Tododaho.

"The animals have souls," he said. "Often when great warriors die or
fall in battle their souls go into the bodies of bear, or deer, or
wolf, but oftenest into that of bear. For that reason the bear, saving
only the dog which lives with us, is nearest to man, and now and then,
because of the warrior soul in him, he is a man himself, although
he walks on four legs--and he does not always walk on four legs,
sometimes he stands on two. Doubt not, Dagaeoga, that when the stormy
winter sweeps down the bears will come to their ancient homes, whether
or not we be here."

The winds grew increasingly chill, coming from the vast lakes beyond
the Great Lakes, those that lay in the far Canadian north, and the
skies were invariably leaden in hue and gloomy. But in the cave it
was cozy and warm. Furs and skins were so numerous that there was no
longer room on the floor and walls for them all, many being stored in
glossy heaps in the corners.

"Some day these will bring a good price from the Dutch traders at
Albany," said Robert, "and it may be, Tayoga, that you and I will need
the money. I've been a scout and warrior for a long time, and now
I've suddenly turned fur hunter. Well, that spirit of peace and of a
friendly feeling toward all mankind grows upon me. Why shouldn't I be
full of brotherly love when your patron saint, Tododaho, has been so
kind to us?"

He swept the cave once more with a glance of approval. It furnished
shelter, warmth, food in abundance, and with its furs even a certain
velvety richness for the eye, and Tayoga nodded assent. Meanwhile they
waited for the fierce blasts of the mountain winter.




CHAPTER VII


THE SLEEPING SENTINELS

A singular day came when it seemed to Robert that the wind alternately
blew hot and cold, at least by contrast, and the deep, leaden skies
were suffused with a peculiar mist that made him see all objects in
a distorted fashion. Everything was out of proportion. Some were
too large and some too small. Either the world was awry or his own
faculties had become discolored and disjointed. While his interest in
his daily toil decreased and his thoughts were vague and distant,
his curiosity, nevertheless, was keen and concentrated. He knew that
something unusual was going to happen and nature was preparing him for
it.

The occult quality in the air did not depart with the coming of night,
though the winds no longer alternated, the warm blasts ceasing to
blow, while the cold came steadily and with increasing fierceness. Yet
it was warm and close in the cave, and the two went outside for air,
wandering up the face of the ridge that enclosed the northern side
of their particular valley in the chain of little valleys. Upon the
summit they stood erect, and the face of Tayoga became rapt like
that of a seer. When Robert looked at him his own blood tingled. The
Onondaga shut his eyes, and he spoke not so much to Robert as to the
air itself:

"O Tododaho," he said, "when mine eyes are open I do not see you
because of the vast clouds that Manitou has heaped between, but when I
close them the inner light makes me behold you sitting upon your star
and looking down with kindness upon this, the humblest and least of
your servants. O Tododaho, you have given my valiant comrade and
myself a safe home in the wilderness in our great need, and I beseech
you that you will always hold your protecting shield between us and
our enemies."

He paused, his eyes still closed, and stood tense and erect, the north
wind blowing on his face. A shiver ran through Robert, not a shiver of
fear, but a shiver caused by the mysterious and the unknown. His own
eyes were open, and he gazed steadily into the northern heavens.
The occult quality in the air deepened, and now his nerves began to
tingle. His soul thrilled with a coming event. Suddenly the deep,
leaden clouds parted for a few moments, and in the clear space between
he could have sworn that he saw a great dancing star, from which a
mighty, benevolent face looked down upon them.

"I saw him! I saw him!" he exclaimed in excitement. "It was Tododaho
himself!"

"I did not see him with my eyes, but I saw him with my soul," said the
Onondaga, opening his eyes, "and he whispered to me that his favor was
with us. We cannot fail in what we wish to do."

"Look in the next valley, Tayoga. What do you behold now?"

"It is the bears, Dagaeoga. They come to their long winter sleep."

Rolling figures, enlarged and fantastic, emerged from the mist. Robert
saw great, red eyes, sharp teeth and claws, and yet he felt neither
fear nor hostility. Tayoga's statement that they were bears, into
which the souls of great warriors had gone, was strong in his mind,
and he believed. They looked up at him, but they did not pause, moving
on to the little caves.

"They see us," he said.

"So they do," said Tayoga, "but they do not fear us. The spirits of
mighty warriors look out of their eyes at us, and knowing that they
were once as we are they know also that we will not harm them."

"Have you ever seen the like of this before, Tayoga?"

"No! But a few of the old men of the Hodenosaunee have told of their
grandfathers who have seen it. I think it is a mark of favor to us
that we are permitted to behold such a sight. Now I am sure Tododaho
has looked upon us with great approval. Lo, Dagaeoga, more of them
come out of the mist! Before morning every cave, save those in our own
little corner of the valley, will be filled. All of them gaze up at
us, recognize us as friends and pass on. It is a wonderful sight,
Dagaeoga, and we shall never look upon its like again."

"No," said Robert, as the extraordinary thrill ran through him once
more. "Now they have gone into their caves, and I believe with you,
Tayoga, that the souls of great warriors truly inhabit the bodies of
the bears."

"And since they are snugly in their homes, ready for the long winter
sleep, lo! the great snow comes, Dagaeoga!"

A heavy flake fell on Robert's upturned face, and then another and
another. The circling clouds, thick and leaden, were beginning to pour
down their burden, and the two retreated swiftly to their own dry and
well furnished cave. Then they rolled the great stones before the
door, and Tayoga said:

"Now, we will imitate our friends, the bears, and take a long winter
sleep."

Both were soon slumbering soundly in their blankets and furs, and all
that night and all the next day the snow fell on the high mountains in
the heart of which they lay. There was no wind, and it came straight
down, making an even depth on ridge, slope and valley. It blotted out
the mouths of the caves, and it clothed all the forest in deep white.
Robert and Tayoga were but two motes, lost in the vast wilderness,
which had returned to its primeval state, and the Indians themselves,
whether hostile or friendly, sought their villages and lodges and were
willing to leave the war trail untrodden until the months of storm and
bitter cold had passed.

Robert slept heavily. His labors in preparation for the winter had
been severe and unremitting, and his nerves had been keyed very high
by the arrival of the bears and the singular quality in the air. Now,
nature claimed her toll, and he did not awake until nearly noon,
Tayoga having preceded him a half hour. The Onondaga stood at the door
of the cave, looking over the stones that closed its lower half. Fresh
air poured in at the upper half, but Robert saw there only a whitish
veil like a foaming waterfall.

"The time o' day, Sir Tayoga, Knight of the Great Forest," he said
lightly and cheerfully.

"There is no sun to tell me," replied the Onondaga. "The face of
Areskoui will be hidden long, but I know that at least half the day is
gone. The flakes make a thick and heavy white veil, through which
I cannot see, and great as are the snows every winter on the high
mountains, this will be the greatest of them all."

"And we've come into our lair. And a mighty fine lair it is, too. I
seem to adapt myself to such a place, Tayoga. In truth, I feel like
a bear myself. You say that the souls of warriors have gone into the
bears about us, and it may be that the soul of a bear has come into
me."

"It may be," said Tayoga, gravely. "It is at least a wise thought,
since, for a while, we must live like bears."

Robert would have chafed, any other time, at a stay that amounted to
imprisonment, but peace and shelter were too welcome now to let him
complain. Moreover, there were many little but important house-hold
duties to do. They made needles of bone, and threads of sinew and
repaired their clothing. Tayoga had stored suitable wood and bone and
he turned out arrow after arrow. He also made another bow, and Robert,
by assiduous practice, acquired sufficient skill to help in these
tasks. They did not drive themselves now, but the hours being filled
with useful and interesting labor, they were content to wait.

For three or four days, while the snow still fell, they ate cold food,
but when the clouds at last floated away, and the air was free from
the flakes, they went outside and by great effort--the snow being four
or five feet deep--cleared a small space near the entrance, where they
cooked a good dinner from their stores and enjoyed it extravagantly.
Meanwhile the days passed. Robert was impatient at times, but never a
long while. If the mental weariness of waiting came to him he plunged
at once into the tasks of the day.

There was plenty to do, although they had prepared themselves so well
before the great snowfall came. They made rude shovels of wood and
enlarged the space they had cleared of snow. Here, they fitted stones
together, until they had a sort of rough furnace which, crude though
it was, helped them greatly with their cooking. They also pulled more
brushwood from under the snow, and by its use saved the store they
had heaped up for impossible days. Then, by continued use of the bone
needles and sinews, they managed to make cloaks for themselves of the
bearskins. They were rather shapeless garments, and they had little of
beauty save in the rich fur itself, but they were wonderfully warm and
that was what they wanted most.

Tayoga, after a while, began slow and painstaking work on a pair of
snowshoes, expecting to devote many days to the task.

"The snow is so deep we cannot pass through it," he said, "but I, at
least, will pass upon it. I cannot get the best materials, but what I
have will serve. I shall not go far, but I want to explore the country
about us."

Robert thought it a good plan, and helped as well as he could with the
work. They still stayed outdoors as much as possible, but the cold
became intense, the temperature going almost to forty degrees below
zero, the surface of the snow freezing and the boughs of the big
trees about the valley becoming so brittle that they broke with sharp
crashes beneath the weight of accumulated snow. Then they paused long
enough in the work on the snowshoes to make themselves gloves of
buckskin, which were a wonderful help, as they labored in the fresh
air. Ear muffs and caps of bearskin followed.

"I feel some reluctance about using bearskin so much," said Robert,
"since the bears about us are inhabited by the souls of great warriors
and are our friends."

"But the bears that we killed did not belong here," said Tayoga, "and
were bears and nothing more. It was right for us to slay them because
the bear was sent by Manitou to be a support for the Indian with his
flesh and his pelt."

"But how do you know that the bears we killed were just bears and
bears only?"

"Because, if they had not been we would not have killed them."

Thus were the qualms of young Lennox quieted and he used his bearskin
cap, gloves and cloak without further scruple. The snowshoes were
completed and Tayoga announced that he would start early the next
morning.

"I may be gone three or four days, Dagaeoga," he said, "but I will
surely return. I shall avoid danger, and do you be careful also."

"Don't fear for me," said Robert. "I'm not likely to go farther than
the brook, since there's no great sport in breaking your way through
snow that comes to your waist, and which, moreover, is covered with a
thick sheet of ice. Don't trouble your mind about me, Tayoga, I won't
roam from home."

The Onondaga took his weapons, a supply of food, and departed,
skimming over the snow with wonderful, flying strokes, while Robert
settled down to lonely waiting. It was a hard duty, but he again found
solace in work, and at intervals he contemplated the mouths of the
bears' caves, now almost hidden by the snow. Tayoga's belief was
strong upon him, for the time, and he concluded that the warriors
who inhabited the bodies of the bears must be having some long and
wonderful dreams. At least, they had plenty of time to dream in, and
it was an extraordinary provision of nature that gave them such a
tremendous sleep.

Tayoga returned in four days, and Robert, who had more than enough of
being alone, welcomed him with hospitable words to a fire and a feast.

"I must first put away my spoils," said the Onondaga, his dark eyes
glittering.

"Spoils! What spoils, Tayoga?"

"Powder and lead," he replied, taking a heavy bundle wrapped in
deerskin from beneath his bearskin overcoat. "It weighs a full fifty
pounds, and it made my return journey very wearisome. Catch it,
Dagaeoga!"

Robert caught, and he saw that it was, in truth, powder and lead.

"Now, where did you get this?" he exclaimed. "You couldn't have gone
to any settlement!"

"There is no settlement to go to. I made our enemies furnish the
powder and lead we need so much, and that is surely the cheapest way.
Listen, Dagaeoga. I remembered that to the east of us, about two days'
journey, was a long valley sheltered well and warm, in which Indians
who fight the Hodenosaunee often camp. I thought it likely they would
be there in such a winter as this, and that I might take from them in
the night the powder and lead we need so much.

"I was right. The savages were there, and with them a white man, a
Frenchman, that Charles Langlade, called the Owl, from whom we fled.
They had an abundance of all things, and they were waxing fat, until
they could take the war path in the spring. Then, Dagaeoga, I played
the fox. At night, when they dreamed of no danger, I entered their
biggest lodges, passing as one of them, and came away with the powder
and lead."

"It was a great feat, Tayoga, but are you sure none of them will trail
you here?"

"The surface of the snow and ice melts a little in the noonday sun,
enough to efface all trace of the snowshoes, and my trail is no more
than that made by a bird in its flight through the air. Nor can we be
followed here while we are guarded by the bears, who sleep, but who,
nevertheless, are sentinels."

Tayoga took off his snowshoes, and sank upon a heap of furs in the
cave, while Robert brought him food and inspected the great prize of
ammunition he had brought. The package contained a dozen huge horns
filled with powder, and many small bars of lead, the latter having
made the weight which had proved such a severe trial to the Onondaga.

"Here's enough of both lead and powder to last us throughout the
winter, whatever may happen," said Robert in a tone of intense
satisfaction. "Tayoga, you're certainly a master freebooter. You
couldn't have made a more useful capture."

Each, after the invariable custom of hunters and scouts, carried
bullet molds, and they were soon at work, melting the lead and casting
bullets for their rifles, then pouring the shining pellets in a stream
into their pouches. They continued at the task from day to day until
all the lead was turned into bullets and then they began work on
another pair of snowshoes, these intended for Robert.

Despite the safety and comfort of their home in the rock, both began
to chafe now, and time grew tremendously long. They had done nearly
everything they could do for themselves, and life had become so easy
that there was leisure to think and be restless, because they were far
away from great affairs.

"When my snowshoes are finished and I perfect myself in the use of
them," said Robert, "I favor an attempt to escape on the ice and snow
to the south. We grow rusty, you and I, here, Tayoga. The war may be
decided in our absence and I want to see Dave, too. I want to hear him
tell how he got through the savage cordon to the lake."

"Have no fear about the war, Dagaeoga," said the Onondaga. "It will
not be ended this winter nor the next. Before there is peace between
the French king and the British king you will have a chance to make
many speeches. Yet, like you, I think we should go. It is not well for
us to lie hidden in the ground through a whole winter."

"But when we leave our good home here I shall leave many regrets
behind."

He looked around at the cave and its supplies of skins and furs, its
stores of wood and food. Fortune had helped their own skill and they
had made a marvelous change in the place. Its bleakness and bareness
had disappeared. In the cold and bitter wilderness it offered more
than comfort, it was luxury itself.

"So shall I," said Tayoga, appreciatively, "but we will heap rocks up
to the very top of the door, so that only a little air and nothing
else can enter, and leave it as it is. Some day we may want to use it
again."

Having decided to go, they became very impatient, but they did not
skimp the work on the snowshoes, knowing how much depended on their
strength, but that task too, like all the others, came to an end in
time. Robert practiced a while and they selected a day of departure.
They were to take with them all the powder and bullets, a large supply
of food and their heavy bearskin overcoats. They had also made for
themselves over-moccasins of fur and extra deerskin leggings. They
would be bundled up greatly, but it was absolutely necessary in order
to face the great cold, that hovered continuously around thirty to
forty degrees below zero. The ear muffs, the caps and the gloves, too,
were necessities, but they had the comfort of believing that if the
fierce winter presented great difficulties to them, it would also keep
their savage enemies in their lodges.

"The line that shut us in in the autumn has thinned out and gone!"
exclaimed Robert in sanguine tones, "and we'll have a clear path from
here to the lake!"

Then they rolled stones, as they had planned, before the door to their
home, closing it wholly except a few square inches at the top, and
ascended on their snowshoes to the crest of the ridge.

"Our cave will not be disturbed, at least not this winter," said
Tayoga confidently. "The bears that sleep below are, as I told you,
the silent sentinels, and they will guard it for us until we come
again."

"At least, they brought us good luck," said Robert. Then, with long,
gliding strokes they passed over the ridge, and their happy valley was
lost to sight. They did not speak again for hours, Tayoga leading the
way, and each bending somewhat to his task, which was by no means
a light one, owing to the weight they carried, and the extremely
mountainous nature of the country. The wilderness was still and
intensely cold. The deep snow was covered by a crust of ice, and,
despite vigorous exertion and warm clothing, they were none too warm.

By noon Robert's ankle, not thoroughly hardened to the snowshoes,
began to chafe, and they stopped to rest in a dense grove, where the
searching north wind was turned aside from them. They were traveling
by the sun for the south end of Lake George, but as they were in the
vast plexus of mountains, where their speed could not be great, even
under the best of conditions, they calculated that they would be many
days and nights on the way.

They stayed fully an hour in the shelter of the trees, and an hour
later came to a frozen lake over which the traveling was easy, but
after they had passed it they entered a land of close thickets, in
which their progress was extremely slow. At night, the cold was very
great, but, as they scooped out a deep hollow in the snow, though they
attempted no fire, they were able to keep warm within their bearskins.
A second and a third day passed in like fashion, and their progress to
the south was unimpeded, though slow. They beheld no signs of human
life save their own, but invariably in the night, and often in the
day, they heard distant wolves howling.

On the fourth day the temperature rose rapidly and the surface of
the snow softened, making their southward march much harder. Their
snowshoes clogged so much and the strain upon their ankles grew so
great that they decided to go into camp long before sunset, and give
themselves a thorough rest. They also scraped away the snow and
lighted a fire for the first time, no small task, as the snow was
still very deep, and it required much hunting to find the fallen
wood. But when the cheerful blaze came they felt repaid for all their
trouble. They rejoiced in the glow for an hour or so, and then Tayoga
decided that he would go on a short hunting trip along the course of a
stream that they could see about a quarter of a mile below.

"It may be that I can rouse up a deer," he said. "They are likely to
be in the shelter of the thick bushes along the water's edge, but
whether I find them or not I will return shortly after sundown. Do you
await me here, Dagaeoga."

"I won't stir. I'm too tired," said Robert.

The Onondaga put on his snowshoes again, and strapped to his back his
share of the ammunition and supplies--it had been agreed by the two
that neither should ever go anywhere without his half, lest they
become separated. Then he departed on smooth, easy strokes, almost
like one who skated, and was soon out of sight among the bushes at the
edge of the stream. Robert settled back to the warmth and brightness
of the fire, and awaited in peace the sound of a shot telling that
Tayoga had found the deer.

He had been so weary, and the blaze was so soothing that he sank into
a state, not sleep, but nevertheless full of dreams. He saw Willet
again, and heard him tell the tale how he had reached the lake and
the army with Garay's letter. He saw Colonel Johnson, and the young
English officer, Grosvenor, and Colden and Wilton and Carson and all
his old friends, and then he heard a crunch on the snow near him. Had
Tayoga come back so soon and without his deer? He did not raise his
drooping eyelids until he heard the crunch again, and then when he
opened them he sprang suddenly to his feet, his heart beating fast
with alarm.

A half dozen dark figures rushed upon him. He snatched at his rifle
and tried to meet the first of them with a bullet, but the range was
too close. He nevertheless managed to get the muzzle in the air and
pull the trigger. He remembered even in that terrible moment to do
that much and Tayoga would hear the sharp, lashing report. Then the
horde was upon him. Someone struck him a stunning blow on the side of
the head with the flat of a tomahawk, and he fell unconscious.

When he returned to the world, the twilight had come, the hole in the
snow had been enlarged very much, and so had the fire. Seated around
it were a dozen Indians, wrapped in thick blankets and armed heavily,
and one white man whose attire was a strange compound of savage and
civilized. He wore a three-cornered French military hat with a great,
drooping plume of green, an immense cloak of fine green cloth, lined
with fur, but beneath it he was clothed in buckskin.

The man himself was as picturesque as his attire. He was young, his
face was lean and bold, his nose hooked and fierce like that of a
Roman leader, his skin, originally fair, now tanned almost to a
mahogany color by exposure, his figure of medium height, but obviously
very powerful. Robert saw at once that he was a Frenchman and he felt
instinctively that it was Langlade. But his head was aching from the
blow of the tomahawk, and he waited in a sort of apathy.

"So you've come back to earth," said the Frenchman, who had seen his
eyes open--he spoke in good French, which Robert understood perfectly.

"I never had any intention of staying away," replied young Lennox.

The Frenchman laughed.

"At least you show a proper spirit," he said. "I commend you also for
managing to fire your rifle, although the bullet hit none of us. It
gave the alarm to your comrade and he got clean away. I can make a
guess as to who you are."

"My name is Robert Lennox."

"I thought so, and your comrade was Tayoga, the Onondaga who is not
unknown to us, a great young warrior, I admit freely. I am sorry we
did not take him."

"I don't think you'll get a chance to lay hands on him. He'll be too
clever for you."

"I admit that, too. He's gone like the wind on his snowshoes. It seems
queer that you and he should be here in the mountain wilderness so far
north of your lines, in the very height of a fierce winter."

"It's just as queer that you should be here."

"Perhaps so, from your point of view, though it's lucky that I should
have been present with these dark warriors of mine when you were
taken. They suffered heavily in the battle by Andiatarocte, and but
for me they might now be using you as fuel. Don't wince, you know
their ways and I only tell a fact. In truth, I can't make you any
promise in regard to your ultimate fate, but, at present, I need you
alive more than I need you dead."

"You won't get any military information out of me."

"I don't know. We shall wait and see."

"Do you know the Chevalier de St. Luc?"

"Of course. All Frenchmen and all Canadians know him, or know of him,
but he is far from here, and we shall not tell him that we have a
young American prisoner. The chevalier is a great soldier and the
bravest of men, but he has one fault. He does not hate the English and
the Bostonnais enough."

Robert was not bound, but his arms and snowshoes had been taken and
the Indians were all about him. There was no earthly chance of escape.
With the wisdom of the wise he resigned himself at once to his
situation, awaiting a better moment.

"I'm at your command," he said politely to Langlade.

The French leader laughed, partly in appreciation.

"You show intelligence," he said. "You do not resist, when you see
that resistance is impossible."

Robert settled himself into a more comfortable position by the fire.
His head still ached, but it was growing easier. He knew that it was
best to assume a careless and indifferent tone.

"I'm not ready to leave you now," he said, "but I shall go later."

Langlade laughed again, and then directed two of the Indians to hunt
more wood. They obeyed. Robert saw that they never questioned his
leadership, and he saw anew how the French partisans established
themselves so thoroughly in the Indian confidence. The others threw
away more snow, making a comparatively large area of cleared ground,
and, when the wood was brought, they built a great fire, around which
all of them sat and ate heartily from their packs.

Langlade gave Robert food which he forced himself to eat, although he
was not hungry. He judged that the French partisan, who could be cruel
enough on occasion, had some object in treating him well for the
present, and he was not one to disturb such a welcome frame of mind.
His weapons and the extra rifle of Garay that they had brought with
them, had already been divided among the warriors, who, pleased with
the reward, were content to wait.

The night was spent at the captured camp, and in the morning the
entire party, Robert included, started on snowshoes almost due north.
The young prisoner felt a sinking of the heart, when his face was
turned away from his own people, and he began an unknown captivity. He
had been certain at first of escape, but it did not seem so sure now.
In former wars many prisoners taken on raids into Canada had never
been heard of again, and when he reflected in cold blood he knew that
the odds were heavy against a successful flight. Yet there was Tayoga.
His warning shot had enabled the Onondaga to evade the band, and his
comrade would never desert him. All his surpassing skill and tenacity
would be devoted to his aid. In that lay his hope.

They pressed on toward the north as fast as they could go, and when
night came they were all exhausted, but they ate heavily again and
Robert received his share. Langlade continued to treat him kindly,
though he still had the feeling that the partisan, if it served him,
would be fully as cruel as the Indians. At night, although they built
big fires, Langlade invariably posted a strong watch, and Robert
noticed also that he usually shared it, or a part of it, from which
habit he surmised that the partisan had received the name of the Owl.
He had hoped that Tayoga might have a chance to rescue him in the
dark, but he saw now that the vigilance was too great.

He hid his intense disappointment and kept as cheerful a face as he
could. Langlade, the only white man in the Indian band, was drawn
to him somewhat by the mere fact of racial kinship, and the two
frequently talked together in the evenings in what was a sort of
compulsory friendliness, Robert in this manner picking up scraps of
information which when welded together amounted to considerable, being
thus confirmed in his belief that Willet with the letter had reached
the lake in time. St. Luc with a formidable force had undertaken a
swift march on Albany, but the town had been put in a position of
defense, and St. Luc's vanguard had been forced to retreat by a
large body of rangers after a severe conflict. As the success of the
chevalier's daring enterprise had depended wholly on surprise, he had
then withdrawn northward.

But Robert could not find out by any kind of questions where St. Luc
was, although he learned that Garay had never returned to Albany and
that Hendrik Martinus had made an opportune flight. Langlade, who was
thoroughly a wilderness rover, talked freely and quite boastfully
of the French power, which he deemed all pervading and invincible.
Despite the battle at Lake George the fortunes of war had gone so far
in favor of France and Canada and against Britain and the Bostonnais.
When the great campaign was renewed in the spring more and bigger
victories would crown French valor. The Owl grew expansive as he
talked to the youth, his prisoner.

"The Marquis de Montcalm is coming to lead all our armies," he said,
"and he is a far abler soldier than Dieskau. You really did us a great
service when you captured the Saxon. Only a Frenchman is fit to
lead Frenchmen, and under a mighty captain we will crush you. The
Bostonnais are not the equal of the French in the forest. Save a few
like Willet, and Rogers, the English and Americans do not learn the
ways of woods warfare, nor do you make friends with the Indians as we
do."

"That is true in the main," responded Robert, "but we shall win
despite it. Both the English and the English Colonials have the power
to survive defeat. Can the French and the Canadians do as well?"

Langlade could not be shaken in his faith. He saw nothing but the most
brilliant victories, and not only did he boast of French power, but he
gloried even more in the strength of the Indian hordes, that had come
and that were coming in ever increasing numbers to the help of France.
Only the Hodenosaunee stood aloof from Québec, and he believed the
Great League even yet would be brought over to his side.

Robert argued with the Owl, but he made no impression upon him.
Meanwhile they continued to march north by west.




CHAPTER VIII


BEFORE MONTCALM

The Owl, with his warriors and captive, descended in time into the low
country in the northwest. They, too, had been on snowshoes, but now they
discarded them, since they were entering a region in which little snow had
fallen, the severity of the weather abating greatly. Robert was still
treated well, though guarded with the utmost care. The Indians, who seemed
to be from some tribe about the Great Lakes, did not speak any dialect he
knew, and, if they understood English, they did not use it. He was
compelled to do all his talking with the Owl who, however, was not at all
taciturn. Robert saw early that while a wonderful woodsman and a born
partisan leader, he was also a Gascon, vain, boastful and full of words. He
tried to learn from him something about his possible fate, but he could
obtain no hint, until they had been traveling more than three weeks, and
Langlade had been mellowed by an uncommonly good supper of tender game,
which the Indians had cooked for him.

"You've been trying to draw that information out of me ever since you were
captured," he said. "You were indirect and clever about it, but I noticed
it. I, Charles Langlade, have perceptions, you must understand. If I do
live in the woods I can read the minds of white men."

"I know you can," said Robert, smilingly. "I observed from the first that
you had an acute intellect."

"Your judgment does you credit, my young friend. I did not tell you what I
was going to do with you, because I did not know myself. I know more about
you than you think I do. One of my warriors was with Tandakora in several
of his battles with you and Willet, that mighty hunter whom the Indians
call the Great Bear, and Tayoga, the Onondaga, who is probably following on
our trail in the hope of rescuing you. I have also heard of you from
others. Oh, as I tell you, I, Charles Langlade, take note of all things.
You are a prisoner of importance. I would not give you to Tandakora,
because he would burn you, and a man does not burn valuable goods. I would
not send you to St. Luc, because, being a generous man, he might take some
foolish notion to exchange you, or even parole you. I would not give you to
the Marquis Duquesne at Quebec, because then I might lose my pawn in the
game, and, in any event, the Marquis Duquesne is retiring as Governor
General of New France."

"Is that true? I have met him. He seemed to me to be a great man."

"Perhaps he is, but he was too haughty and proud for the powerful men who
dwelt at Quebec, and who control New France. I have heard something of your
appearance at the capital with the Great Bear and the Onondaga, and of what
chanced at Bigot's ball, and elsewhere. Ah, you see, as I told you, I,
Charles Langlade, know all things! But to return, the Marquis Duquesne
gives way to the Marquis de Vaudreuil. Oh, that was accomplished some time
ago, and perhaps you know of it. So, I do not wish to give you to the
Marquis de Vaudreuil. I might wait and present you to the Marquis de
Montcalm when he comes, but that does not please me, either, and thus I
have about decided to present you to the Dove."

"The Dove! Who is the Dove?"

Langlade laughed with intense enjoyment.

"The Dove," he replied, "is a woman, none other than Madame de Langlade
herself, a Huron. You English do not marry Indian women often--and yet
Colonel William Johnson has taken a Mohawk to wife--but we French know them
and value them. Do not think to have an easy and careless jailer when you
are put in the hands of the Dove. She will guard you even more zealously
than I, Charles Langlade, and you will notice that I have neither given you
any opportunity to escape nor your friend, Tayoga, the slightest chance to
rescue you."

"It is true, Monsieur Langlade. I've abandoned any such hope on the march,
although I may elude you later."

"The Dove, as I told you, will attend to that. But it will be a pretty play
of wits, and I don't mind the test. I'm aware that you have intelligence
and skill, but the Dove, though a woman, possesses the wit of a great
chief, and I'll match her against you."

There was a further abatement of the weather, and they reached a region
where there was no snow at all. Warm winds blew from the direction of the
Great Lakes and the band traveled fast through a land in which the game
almost walked up to their rifles to be killed, such plenty causing the
Indians, as usual, now that they were not on the war path, to feast
prodigiously before huge fires, Langlade often joining them, and showing
that he was an adept in Indian customs.

One evening, just as they were about to light the fire, the warrior who had
been posted as sentinel at the edge of the forest gave a signal and a few
moments later a tall, spare figure in a black robe with a belt about the
waist appeared. Robert's heart gave a great leap. The wearer of the black
robe was an elderly man with a thin face, ascetic and high. The captive
recognized him at once. It was Father Philibert Drouillard, the priest,
whose life had already crossed his more than once, and it was not strange
to see him there, as the French priests roamed far through the great
wilderness of North America, seeking to save the souls of the savages.

Langlade, when he beheld Father Drouillard, sprang at once to his feet, and
Robert also arose quickly. The priest saw young Lennox, but he did not
speak to him just yet, accepting the food that the Owl offered him, and
sitting down with his weary feet to the fire that had now been lighted.

"You have traveled far, Father?" said Langlade, solicitously.

"From the shores of Lake Huron. I have converts there, and I must see that
they do not grow weak in the faith."

"All men, red and white, respect Philibert Drouillard. Why are you alone,
Father?"

"A runner from the Christian village came with me until yesterday. Then I
sent him back, because I would not keep him too long from his people. I can
go the rest of the way alone, as it will be but a few days before I meet a
French force."

Then he turned to Robert for the first time.

"And you, my son," he said, "I am sorry it has fared thus with you."

"It has not gone badly, Father," said Robert. "Monsieur de Langlade has
treated me well. I have naught to complain of save that I'm a prisoner."

"It is a good lad, Charles Langlade," said the priest to the partisan, "and
I am glad he has suffered no harm at your hands. What do you purpose to do
with him?"

"It is my present plan to take him to the village in which Madame Langlade,
otherwise the Dove, abides. He will be her prisoner until a further plan
develops, and you know how well she watches."

A faint smile passed over the thin face of the priest.

"It is true, Charles Langlade," he said. "That which escapes the eyes of
the Dove is very small, but I would take the lad with me to Montreal."

"Nay, Father, that cannot be. I am second to nobody in respect for Holy
Church, and for you, Father Drouillard, whose good deeds are known to all,
and whose bad deeds are none, but those who fight the war must use their
judgment in fighting it, and the prisoners are theirs."

Father Drouillard sighed.

"It is so, Charles Langlade," he said, "but, as I have said, the prisoner
is a good youth. I have met him before, as I told you, and I would save
him. You know not what may happen in the Indian village, if you chance to
be away."

"The Dove will have charge of him. She can be trusted."

"And yet I would take him with me to Montreal. He will give his parole that
he will not attempt to escape on the way. It is the custom for prisoners to
be ransomed. I will send to you from Montreal five golden louis for him."

Langlade shook his head.

"Ten golden louis," said Father Drouillard.

"Nay, Father, it is no use," said the partisan. "I cannot be tempted to
exchange him for money."

"Fifteen golden louis, Charles Langlade, though I may have to borrow from
the funds of the Church to send them to you."

"I respect your motive, Father, but 'tis impossible. This is a prisoner of
great value and I must use him as a pawn in the game of war. He was taken
fairly and I cannot give him up."

Again Father Drouillard sighed, and this time heavily.

"I would save you from captivity, Mr. Lennox," he said, "but, as you see, I
cannot."

Robert was much moved.

"I thank you, Father Drouillard, for your kind intentions," he said. "It
may be that some day I shall have a chance to repay them. Meanwhile, I do
not dread the coming hospitality of Madame Langlade."

The priest shook his head sadly.

"It is a great and terrible war," he said, "though I cannot doubt that
France will prevail, but I fear for you, my son, a captive in the vast
wilderness. Although you are an enemy and a heretic I have only good
feeling for you, and I know that the great Chevalier, St. Luc, also regards
you with favor."

"Know you anything of St. Luc?" asked Robert eagerly.

"Only that the expedition he was to lead against Albany has turned back and
that he has gone to Canada to fight under the banner of Montcalm, when he
comes with the great leaders, De Levis, Bourlamaque and the others."

"I thought I might meet him."

"Not here, with Charles Langlade."

The priest spent the night with them and in the morning, after giving them
his blessing, captors and captive alike, he departed on his long and
solitary journey to Montreal.

"A good man," said Robert, as he watched his tall, thin figure disappear in
the surrounding forest.

"Truly spoken," said the Owl. "I am little of a churchman myself, the
forest and the war trail please me better, but the priests are a great prop
to France in the New World. They carry with them the authority of His
Majesty, King Louis."

A week later they reached a small Indian village on Lake Ontario where the
Owl at present made his abode, and in the largest lodge of which his
patient spouse, the Dove, was awaiting him. She was young, much taller than
the average Indian woman, and, in her barbaric fashion, quite handsome. But
her face was one of the keenest and most alert Robert had ever seen. All
the trained observation of countless ancestors seemed stored in her and now
he understood why Langlade had boasted so often and so warmly of her skill
as a guard. She regarded him with a cold eye as she listened attentively to
her husband's instructions, and, for the remainder of that winter and
afterward, she obeyed them with a thoroughness beyond criticism.

The village included perhaps four hundred souls, of whom about a hundred
were warriors. Langlade was king and Madame Langlade, otherwise the Dove,
was queen, the two ruling with absolute sovereignty, their authority due to
their superior intelligence and will and to the service they rendered to
the little state, because a state it was, organized completely in all its
parts, although composed of only a few hundred human beings. In the bitter
weather that came again, Langlade directed the hunting in the adjacent
forest and the fishing conducted on the great lake. He also made presents
from time to time of gorgeous beads or of huge red or yellow blankets that
had been sent from Montreal. Robert could not keep from admiring his
diplomacy and tact, and now he understood more thoroughly than ever how the
French partisans made themselves such favorites with the wild Indians.

His own position in the village was tentative. Langlade still seemed
uncertain what to do with him, and held him meanwhile for a possible reward
of great value. He was never allowed to leave the cluster of tepees for the
forest, except with the warriors, but he took part in the fishing on the
lake, being a willing worker there, because idleness grew terribly irksome,
and, when he had nothing to do, he chafed over his long captivity. He slept
in a small tepee built against that of Monsieur and Madame Langlade, and
from which there was no egress save through theirs.

He was enclosed only within walls of skin, and he believed that he might
have broken a way through them, but he felt that the eyes of the Dove were
always on him. He even had the impression that she was watching him while
he slept, and sometimes he dreamed that she was fanged and clawed like a
tigress.

Langlade went away once, being gone a long time, and while he was absent
the Dove redoubled her watchfulness. Robert's singular impression that her
eyes were always on him was strengthened, and these eyes were increased to
the hundred of Argus and more. It became so oppressive that he was always
eager to go out with the warriors in their canoes for the fishing. On Lake
Ontario he was sure the eyes of the Dove could not reach him, but the work
was arduous and often perilous. The great lake was not to be treated
lightly. Often it took toll of the Indians who lived around its shores.
Winter storms came up suddenly, the waves rolled like those of the sea,
freezing spray dashed over them, and it required a supreme exertion of
both skill and strength to keep the light canoes from being swamped.

Yet Robert was always happier on water than on land. On shore, confined
closely and guarded zealously, his imaginative temperament suffered and he
became moody and depressed, but on the lakes, although still a captive, he
felt the winds of freedom. When the storms came and the icy blasts swept
down upon them he responded, body and soul. Relief and freedom were to be
found in the struggle with the elements and he always went back to shore
refreshed and stronger of spirit and flesh. He also had a feeling that
Tayoga might come by way of the lake, and when he was with the little
Indian fleet he invariably watched the watery horizon for a lone canoe, but
he never saw any.

The absence of news from his friends, and from the world to which they
belonged, was the most terrible burden of all. If the Indians had news they
told him none. He seemed to have vanished completely. But, however numerous
may have been his moments of despondency, he was not made of the stuff that
yields. The flexible steel always rebounded. He took thorough care of his
health and strength. In his close little tepee he flexed and tensed his
muscles and went through physical exercises every night and morning, but it
was on the lake in the fishing, where the Indians grew to recognize his
help, that he achieved most. Fighting the winds, the water and the cold, he
felt his muscles harden and his chest enlarge, and he would say to himself
that when the spring came and he escaped he would be more fit for the life
of a free forest runner than he had ever been before. Langlade, when he
returned, took notice of his increased size and strength and did not
withhold approval.

"I like any prisoner of mine to flourish," he laughed. "The more superior
you become the greater will be the reward for me when I dispose of you. You
have found the Dove all I promised you she should be, haven't you, Monsieur
Lennox?"

"All and more," replied Robert. "Although she may be out of sight I feel
that her eyes are always on me, and this is true of the night as well as
the day."

"A great woman, the Dove, and a wife to whom I give all credit. If it
should come into the king's mind to call me to Versailles and bestow upon
me some kind of an accolade perhaps Madame Langlade would not feel at home
in the great palace nor at the Grand Trianon, nor even at the Little
Trianon, and maybe I wouldn't either. But since no such idea will enter His
Majesty's mind, and I have no desire to leave the great forests, the Dove
is a perfect wife for me. She is the true wilderness helpmate, accomplished
in all the arts of the life I live and love, and with the eye and soul of a
warrior. I repeat, young Monsieur Lennox, where could I find a wife more
really sublime?"

"Nowhere, Monsieur Langlade. The more I see you two together the more
nearly I think you are perfectly matched."

The Owl seemed pleased with the recognition of his marital felicity, and
grew gracious, dropping some crumbs of information for Robert. He had been
to Montreal and the arrival of the great soldier, the Marquis de Montcalm,
with fresh generals and fresh troops from France, was expected daily at
Quebec. The English, although their fleets were larger, could not intercept
them, and it was now a certainty that the spring campaign would sweep over
Albany and almost to New York. He spoke with so much confidence, in truth
with such an absolute certainty, that Robert's heart sank and then came
back again with a quick rebound.

After a winter that had seemed to the young captive an age, spring came
with a glorious blossoming and blooming. The wilderness burst into green
and the great lake shining in the sun became peaceful and friendly. Warm
winds blew out of the west and the blood flowed more swiftly in human
veins. But spring passed and summer came. Then Langlade announced that he
would depart with the best of the warriors, and that Robert would go with
him, although he refused absolutely to say where or for what purpose.

Robert's joy was dimmed in nowise by his ignorance of his destination. He
had not found the remotest chance to escape while in the village, but it
might come on the march, and there was also a relief and pleasant
excitement in entering the wilderness again. He joyously made ready, the
Dove gave her lord and equal, not her master, a Spartan farewell, and the
formidable band, Robert in the center, plunged into the forest.

When the great mass of green enclosed them he felt a mighty surge of hope.
His imaginative temperament was on fire. A chance for him would surely
come. Tayoga might be hidden in the thickets. Action brought renewed
courage. Langlade, who was watching him, smiled.

"I read your mind, young Monsieur Lennox," he said. "Have I not told you
that I, Charles Langlade, have the perceptions? Do I not see and interpret
everything?"

"Then what do you see and interpret now?"

"A great hope in your heart that you will soon bid us farewell. You think
that when we are deep in the forest it will not be difficult to elude our
watch. And yet you could not escape when we were going through this same
forest to the village. Now why do you think it will be easier when you are
going through it again, but away?"

"The Dove is not at the end of the march. Her eyes will no longer be upon
me."

The Owl laughed deeply and heartily.

"You're a lad of sense," he said, "when you lay such a tribute at the feet
of that incomparable woman, that model wife, that true helpmate in every
sense of the word. Why should you be anxious to leave us? I could have you
adopted into the tribe, and you know the ceremony of adoption is sacred
with the Indians. And let me whisper another little fact in your ear which
will surely move you. The Dove has a younger sister, so much like her that
they are twins in character if not in years. She will soon be of
marriageable age, and she shall be reserved for you. Think! Then you will
be my brother-in-law and the brother-in-law of the incomparable Dove."

"No! No!" exclaimed Robert hastily.

Now the laughter of the Owl was uncontrollable. His face writhed and his
sides shook.

"A lad does not recognize his own good!" he exclaimed, "or is it
bashfulness? Nay, don't be afraid, young Monsieur Lennox! Perhaps I could
get the Dove to intercede for you!"

Robert was forced to smile.

"I thank you," he said, "but I am far from the marriageable age myself."

"Then the Dove and I are not to have you for a brother-in-law?" said
Langlade. "You show little appreciation, young Monsieur Lennox, when it is
so easy for you to become a member of such an interesting family."

Robert was confirmed in his belief that there was much of the wild man in
the Owl, who in many respects had become more Indian than the Indians. He
was a splendid trailer, a great hunter, and the hardships of the forest
were nothing to him. He read every sign of the wilderness and yet he
retained all that was French also, lightness of manner, gayety, quick wit
and a politeness that never failed. It is likely that the courage and
tenacity of the French leaders were never shown to better advantage than in
the long fight they made for dominion in North America. Despite the fact
that he was an enemy, and his belief that Langlade could be ruthless, on
occasion, Robert was compelled to like him.

The journey, the destination yet unknown to him, was long, but it was not
tedious to the young prisoner. He watched the summer progress and the
colors deepen and he was cheered continually by the hope of escape, a fact
that Langlade recognized and upon which he commented in a detached manner,
from time to time. Now and then the leader himself went ahead with a scout
or two and one morning he said to Robert:

"I saw something in the forest last night."

"The forest contains much," said Robert.

"But this was of especial interest to you. It was the trace of a footstep,
and I am convinced it was made by your friend Tayoga, the Onondaga.
Doubtless he is seeking to effect your escape."

Robert's heart gave a leap, and there was a new light in his eyes, of which
the shrewd Owl took notice.

"I have heard of the surpassing skill of the Onondaga," he continued, "but
I, Charles Langlade, have skill of my own. It will be some time before we
arrive at the place to which we are going, and I lay you a wager that
Tayoga does not rescue you."

"I have no money, Monsieur Langlade," said Robert, "and if I had I could
not accept a wager upon such a subject."

"Then we'll let it be mental, wholly. My skill is matched against the
combined knowledge of Tayoga and yourself. He'll never be able, no matter
how dark the night, to get near our camp and communicate with you."

Although Robert hoped and listened often in the dusk for the sound of a
signal from Tayoga, Langlade made good his boast. The two were able to
establish no communication. It was soon proved that he was in the forest
near them, one of the warriors even catching a sufficient glimpse of his
form for a shot, which, however, went wild. The Onondaga did not reply,
and, despite the impossibility of reaching him, Robert was cheered by the
knowledge that he was near. He had a faithful and powerful friend who would
help him some day, be it soon or late.

The summer was well advanced when Langlade announced that their journey was
done.

"Before night," he said triumphantly, "we will be in the camp of the
Marquis de Montcalm, and we will meet the great soldier himself. I, Charles
Langlade, told you that it would be so, and it is so."

"What, Montcalm near?" exclaimed Robert, aflame with interest.

"Look at the sky above the tops of those trees in the east and you will see
a smudge of smoke, beneath which stand the tents of the French army."

"The French army here! And what is it doing in the wilderness?"

"That, young Monsieur Lennox, rests on the knees of the gods. I have some
curiosity on the subject myself."

An hour or two later they came within sight of the French camp, and Robert
saw that it was a numerous and powerful force for time and place. The tents
stood in rows, and soldiers, both French and Canadian, were everywhere,
while many Indian warriors were on the outskirts. A large white marquee
near the center he was sure was that of the commander-in-chief, and he was
eager to see at once the famous Montcalm, of whom he was hearing so much.
But to his intense disappointment, Langlade went into camp with the
Indians.

"The Marquis de Montcalm is a great man," he said, "the commander-in-chief
of all the forces of His Majesty, King Louis, in North America, and even I,
Charles Langlade, will not approach him without ceremony. We will rest in
the edge of the forest, and when he hears that I have come he will send for
me, because he will want to know many things which none other can tell him.
And it may be, young Monsieur Lennox, that, in time, he will wish to see
you also."

So Robert waited with as much patience as he could muster, although he
slept but little that night, the noises in the great French camp and his
own curiosity keeping him awake. What was Montcalm doing so far from the
chief seats of the French power in Canada, and did the English and
Americans know that he was here?

Curiously enough he had little apprehension for himself, it was rather a
feeling of joy that he had returned to the world of great affairs. Soon he
would know what had been occurring during the long winter when he was
buried in an Indian village, and he might even hear of Willet. Toward dawn
he slept a little, and after daylight he was awakened by Langlade who was
as assured and talkative as usual.

"It may be, my gallant young prisoner," he said, ruffling and strutting,
"that I am about to lose you, but if it is so it will be for value
received. I, Charles Langlade, have seen the great Marquis de Montcalm, but
it was an equal speaking to an equal. It was last night in his grand
marquee, where he sat surrounded by his trusted lieutenants, De Levis, St.
Luc, Bourlamaque, Coulon de Villiers and the others. But I was not daunted
at all. I repeat that it was an equal speaking to an equal, and the Marquis
was pleased to commend me for the work I have already done for France."

"And St. Luc was there?"

"He was. The finest figure of them all. A brave and generous man and a
great leader. He stood at the right hand of the Marquis de Montcalm, while
I talked and he listened with attention, because the Chevalier de St. Luc
is always willing to learn from others. No false pride about him! And the
Marquis de Montcalm is like him. I gave the commander-in-chief much
excellent advice which he accepted with gratitude, and in return for you,
whom he expects to put to use, he has raised me in rank, and has extended
my authority over the western tribes. Ah, I knew that you were a prize when
I captured you, and I was wise to save you as a pawn."

"How can I be of any value to the Marquis de Montcalm?"

"That is to be seen. He knows his own plans best. You are to come with me
at once into his presence."

Robert was immediately in a great stir. He straightened out, and, with his
hands, brushed his own clothing, smoothed his hair, intending, with his
usual desire for neatness, to make the best possible appearance before the
French leader.

After breakfast Langlade took him to the great marquee in which Montcalm
sat, as the morning was cool, and when their names had been taken in a
young officer announced that they might enter, the officer, to Robert's
great surprise, being none other than De Galissonnière, who showed equal
amazement at meeting him there. The Frenchman gave him a hearty grasp of
the hand in English fashion, but they did not have time to say anything.

Robert, walking by the side of Langlade, entered the great tent with some
trepidation, and beheld a swarthy man of middle years, in the uniform of a
general of France, giving orders to two officers who stood respectfully at
attention. Neither of the officers was St. Luc, nor were they among those
whom Robert had seen at Quebec. He surmised, however, that they were De
Levis and Bourlamaque, and he learned soon that he was right. Langlade
paused until Montcalm was ready to speak to him, and Robert stood in
silence at his side. Montcalm finished what he had to say and turned his
eyes upon the young prisoner. His countenance was mild, but Robert felt
that his gaze was searching.

"And this, Captain Langlade," he said, "is the youth of whom you were
speaking?"

So the Owl had been made a captain, and the promotion had been one of his
rewards. Robert was not sorry.

"It is the one, sir," replied Langlade, "young Monsieur Robert Lennox. He
has been a prisoner in my village all the winter, and he has as friends
some of the most powerful people in the British Colonies."

Montcalm continued to gaze at Robert as if he would read his soul.

"Sit down, Mr. Lennox," he said, not unkindly, motioning him to a little
stool. Robert took the indicated seat and so quick is youth to warm to
courtesy that he felt respect and even liking for the Marquis, official and
able enemy though he knew him to be. De Levis and Bourlamaque also were
watching him with alert gaze, but they said nothing.

"I hear," continued Montcalm, with a slight smile, "that you have not
suffered in Captain Langlade's village, and that you have adapted yourself
well to wild life."

"I've had much experience with the wilderness," said Robert. "Most of my
years have been passed there, and it was easy for me to live as Captain
Langlade lived. I've no complaint to make of his treatment, though I will
say that he has guarded me well."

Montcalm laughed.

"It agrees with Captain Langlade's own account," he said. "I suppose that
one must be born, or at least pass his youth in it, to get the way of this
vast wilderness. We of old Europe, where everything has been ruled and
measured for many centuries, can have no conception of it until we see it,
and even then we do not understand it. Although with an army about me I
feel lost in so much forest. But enough of that. It is of yourself and not
of myself that I wish to speak. I have heard good reports of you from one
of my own officers, who, though he has been opposed to you many times,
nevertheless likes you."

"The Chevalier de St. Luc!"

"Aye, the Chevalier de St. Luc. I know, also, that you have been in the
councils of some of the Colonial leaders. You are a friend of Sir William
Johnson."

"Colonel William Johnson?"

"No, Sir William Johnson. In reward for the affair at Lake George, in which
our Dieskau was unfortunate, he has been made a baronet by the British
king."

"I am glad."

"And doubtless Sir William is also. You know him well, I understand, and he
was still at the lake when you left on the journey that led to your
capture."

Robert was silent.

"I have not asked you to answer," continued Montcalm, "but I assume that it
is so. His army, although it was victorious in the battle there, did not
advance. There was much disagreement among the governors of the British
Colonies. The provinces could not be induced to act together?"

Robert was still silent.

"Again I say I am not asking you to answer, but your silence confirms the
truth of our reports."

Robert flushed, and a warm reply trembled on his lips, but he restrained
the words. A swift smile passed over the dark face of Montcalm.

"You see, Mr. Lennox," he continued, "I am not asking you to say anything,
but there was great disappointment among the British Colonials because
there was no advance after the battle at the lake. It has also cooled the
enthusiasm of the Iroquois, many of whom have gone home and who perhaps
will take no further part in the war as the allies of the English."

Again Robert flushed and again he bit back the hot reply. He looked
uneasily at De Levis and Bourlamaque, but their faces expressed nothing.
Then Montcalm suddenly changed the subject.

"I am going to make you a very remarkable offer," he said, "and do not
think for a moment it is going to imply any change of colors on your part,
or the least suspicion of treason, which I could not ask of the gentleman
you obviously are. I request of you your parole, your word of honor that
you will not take any further part in this war."

"I can't do it! As I have often told Captain Langlade, I intend to escape."

"That is impossible. If you could not do so when you were in Captain
Langlade's village, you have no chance at all now that you are surrounded
by an army. But since you will not give me your parole it will become
necessary to keep you as a prisoner of war, and to send you to a safe
place."

"Many of our people in this and former wars with the French have been held
prisoners in the Province of Quebec. I know somewhat of the city of Quebec,
and it is not wholly an unpleasant place."

"I did not have Quebec, either the province or the city, in mind so far as
concerns you, Mr. Lennox. Three of our ships are to return shortly to
France, and, not wishing to give us your parole, you are to go to France."

"To France?"

"Yes, to France. Where else? And you should rejoice. It is a fair and
glorious land. And I have heard there is a spirit in you, Mr. Lennox, which
is almost French, a kindred touch, a Gallic salt and savor, so to speak."

"I'm wholly American and British."

"Perhaps there are others who know you better than you know yourself. I
repeat, there is about you a French finish. Why should you deny it? You
should be proud of it. We are the oldest of the great civilized nations,
and the first in culture. Your stay in France should be very pleasant. You
can drink there at the fountain of ancient culture and glory. The
wilderness is magnificent in its way, but high civilization is magnificent
also in its own and another way. You can see Paris, the city of light, the
center of the world, and you can behold the splendid court of His Majesty,
King Louis. That should appeal to a young man of taste and discernment."

Robert felt a thrill and his pulses leaped, but the thrill lasted only a
moment. It was clearly impossible that he should go even as a prisoner,
though a willing one, to France, and he did not see any reason why the
Marquis de Montcalm should take any personal interest in his future. But
responding invariably to the temperature about him his manner was now as
polite as that of the French general.

"You have my thanks, sir," he said, "for the kindly way in which you offer
to treat a prisoner, but it is impossible for me to go to France, unless
you should choose to send me there by sheer force."

The slight smile passed again over the face of the Marquis de Montcalm.

"I fancied, young sir," he said, "that this would be your answer, and,
being what it is, I cannot say that it has lowered you aught in my esteem.
For the present, you abide with us."

Robert bowed. Montcalm inspired in him a certain liking, and a decided
respect. Then, still under the escort of Langlade, he withdrew.




CHAPTER IX


THE SIGN OF THE BEAR

Robert returned with Langlade to the partisan's camp at the edge of the
forest adjoining that of the main French army, where the Indian warriors
had lighted fires and were cooking steaks of the deer. He was disposed to
be silent, but Langlade as usual chattered volubly, discoursing of French
might and glory, but saying nothing that would indicate to his prisoner the
meaning of the present military array in the forest.

Robert did not hear more than half of the Owl's words, because he was
absorbed in those of Montcalm, which still lingered in his mind. Why should
the Marquis wish to send him to France, and to have him treated, when he
was there, more as a guest than as a prisoner? Think as he would he could
find no answer to the question, but the Owl evidently had been impressed by
his reception from Montcalm, as he treated him now with distinguished
courtesy. He also seemed particularly anxious to have the good opinion of
the lad who had been so long his prisoner.

"Have I been harsh to you?" he asked with a trace of anxiety in his tone.
"Have I not always borne myself toward you as if you were an important
prisoner of war? It is true I set the Dove as an invincible sentinel over
you, but as a good soldier and loyal son of France I could do no less. Now,
I ask you, Monsieur Robert Lennox, have not I, Charles Langlade, conducted
myself as a fair and considerate enemy?"

"If I were to escape and be captured again, Captain Langlade, it is my
sincere wish that you should be my captor the second time, even as you were
the first."

The Owl was gratified, visibly and much, and then he announced a visitor.
Robert sprang to his feet as he saw St. Luc approaching, and his heart
throbbed as always when he was in the presence of this man. The chevalier
was in a splendid uniform of white and silver unstained by the forest. His
thick, fair hair was clubbed in a queue and powdered neatly, and a small
sword, gold hilted, hung at his belt. He was the finest and most gallant
figure that Robert had yet seen in the wilderness, the very spirit and
essence of that brave and romantic France with which England and her
colonies were fighting a duel to the death. And yet St. Luc always seemed
to him too the soul of knightly chivalry, one to whom it was impossible for
him to bear any hostility that was not merely official. His own hand went
forward to meet the extended hand of the chevalier.

"We seem destined to meet many times, Mr. Lennox," said St. Luc, "in
battle, and even under more pleasant conditions. I had heard that you were
the prisoner of our great forest ranger, Captain Langlade, and that you
would be received by our commander-in-chief, the Marquis de Montcalm."

"He made me a most extraordinary offer, that I go as a prisoner of war to
Paris, but almost in the state of a guest."

"And you thought fit to decline, which was unwise in you, though to be
expected of a lad of spirit. Sit down, Mr. Lennox, and we can have our
little talk in ease and comfort. It may be that I have something to do with
the proposition of the Marquis de Montcalm. Why not reconsider it and go to
France? England is bound to lose the war in America. We have the energy and
the knowledge. The Indian tribes are on our side. Even the powerful
Hodenosaunee may come over to us in time, and at the worst it will become
neutral. As a prisoner in France you will have no share in defeat, but
perhaps that does not appeal to you."

"It does not, but I thank you, Chevalier de St. Luc, for your many
kindnesses to me, although I don't understand them. Your solicitude for my
welfare cannot but awake my gratitude, but it has been more than once a
source of wonderment in my mind."

"Because you are a young and gallant enemy whom I would not see come to
harm."

Robert felt, however, that the chevalier was not stating the true reason,
and he felt also with equal force that he would keep secret in the face of
all questions, direct or indirect, the motives impelling him. St. Luc asked
him about his life in the Indian village with Langlade, and then came back
presently to Paris and France, which he described more vividly than even
Montcalm had done. He seemed to know the very qualities that would appeal
most to Robert, and, despite himself, the lad felt his heart leap more than
once. Paris appeared in deeper and more glowing colors than ever as the
city of light and soul, but he was firm in his resolution not to go there
as a prisoner, if choice should be left to him. St. Luc himself became
enamored of his own words as he spoke. His eyes glowed, and his tone took
on great warmth and enthusiasm. But presently he ceased and when he laughed
a little his laugh showed a slight tone of disappointment.

"I do not move you, Mr. Lennox," he said. "I can see by your eye that your
will is hardening against my words, and yet I could wish that you would
listen to me. You will believe me when I say I mean you only good."

"I am wholly sure of it, Monsieur de St. Luc," said Robert, trying to speak
lightly, "but a long while ago I formed a plan to escape, and if I should
go to France it would interfere with it seriously. It would not be so easy
to leave Paris, and come back to the province of New York, and while I am
in North America it is always possible. I informed Captain Langlade that I
meant to escape, and now I repeat it to you."

The chevalier laughed.

"Time will tell," he said. "Your ambition to leave is a proper and
patriotic motive on your part, and I should be the last to accuse it. But
'tis not easy of accomplishment. I betray no military secret when I say
our army marches quickly and you will, of necessity, march with us. Captain
Langlade will still keep a vigilant watch over you, and you may be in
readiness to depart tomorrow morning."

Robert slept that night in Langlade's little section of the camp, but,
before he went to sleep, he spent much time wondering which way they would
go when the dawn came. Evidently no attack upon Albany was meant, as they
were too far west for such a venture, and he had reason to believe, also,
that with the coming of spring the Colonials would be in such posture of
defense that Montcalm himself would hesitate at such a task. He made
another attempt to draw the information from Langlade, but failed utterly.
Garrulous as he was otherwise, the French partisan would give no hint of
his general's plans. Yet he and his warriors made obvious preparations for
battle, and, before Robert went to sleep, a gigantic figure stalked into
the firelight and regarded him with a grim gaze. The young prisoner's back
was turned at the moment, but he seemed to feel that fierce look, beating
like a wind upon his head, and, turning around, he looked full into the
eyes of Tandakora.

The huge Ojibway was more huge than ever. Robert was convinced that he was
the largest man he had ever seen, not only the tallest, but the broadest,
and the heaviest, and his very lack of clothing--he wore only a belt,
breech cloth, leggings and moccasins--seemed to increase his size. His vast
shoulders, chest and arms were covered with paint, and the scars of old
wounds, the whole giving to him the appearance of some primeval giant,
sinister and monstrous. He carried a fine, new rifle of French make and two
double barreled pistols; a tomahawk and knife swung from his belt.

Robert, nevertheless, met that full gaze firmly. He shut from his mind what
he might have had to suffer from Tandakora had the Ojibway held him a
captive in the forest, but here he was not Tandakora's prisoner, and he was
in the midst of the French army. Centering all his will and soul into the
effort he stared straight into the evil eyes of the Indian, until those of
his antagonist were turned away.

"The Owl has a prisoner whom I know," said Tandakora to Langlade.

"Aye, a sprightly lad," replied the partisan. "I took him before the winter
came, and I've been holding him at our village on Lake Ontario."

"It was he who, with the Onondaga, Tayoga, and the hunter, Willet, whom we
call the Great Bear, carried the letters from Corlear at New York to
Onontio at Quebec. The nations of the Hodenosaunee call him Dagaeoga, and
he is a danger to us. I would buy him from you. I will send to you for him
fifty of the finest buffalo robes taken from the great western plains."

"Not for fifty buffalo robes, Tandakora, no matter how fine they are."

"Ten packs of the finest beaver skins, fifty in each pack."

"It's no use to bid for him, Tandakora. I don't sell captives. Moreover, he
has passed out of my hands. I have had my reward for him. His fate rests
now with the Chevalier de St. Luc and the Marquis de Montcalm."

The Ojibway's face showed foiled malice. "It is a snake that the Owl warms
in his bosom," he said, and strode away. The partisan followed him with
observant eyes.

"It is evident that the Ojibway chief bears you no love, young Monsieur
Lennox," he said. "Now that you have served the purposes for which I held
you I wish you no harm, and so I bid you beware of Tandakora."

"Your advice is good and well meant, and for it I thank you," said Robert;
"but I've known Tandakora a long time. My friends and I have met him in
several encounters and we've not had the worst of them."

"I judged so by his manner. All the more reason then why you should beware
of him. I repeat the warning."

Robert was not bound, and he was permitted to roll himself in a blanket and
sleep with his feet to the fire, an Indian on either side of him. Save
where a space had been cleared for the French army, the primeval forest,
heavy in the foliage of early spring, was all about them, and the wind that
sang through the leaves united with the murmuring of a creek, beside which
Langlade had pitched his camp.

Slumber was slow in coming to Robert. Too much had occurred for his
faculties to slip away at once into oblivion. His interview with Montcalm,
his meeting with St. Luc, and the appearance of Tandakora at the camp
fire, stirred him mightily. Events were certainly marching, and, while he
tried to coax slumber to come, he listened to the noises of the camp and
the forest. Where the French tents were spread, men were softly singing
songs of their ancient land, and beyond them sentinels in neat uniforms
were walking back and forth among trees that had never beheld uniforms
before.

The sounds sank gradually, but Robert did not yet sleep. He found a
peculiar sort of interest in detaching these murmurs from one another, the
stamp of impatient horses, the moving of arms, the last dying, notes of a
song, the whisper of the creek's waters, and then, plainly separate from
the others, he heard a faint, unmistakable swish, a noise that he knew,
that of an arrow flying through the air. Langlade knew it too, and sprang
up with an angry cry.

"Now, has some warrior got hold of whiskey to indulge in this madness?" he
exclaimed.

The faint swish came a second time, and Robert, who had risen to his feet,
saw two arrows standing upright in the earth not twenty feet away. Langlade
saw them also and swore.

"They must have come in a wide curve overhead," he said, "or they would not
be standing almost straight up in the earth, and that does not seem like
the madness of liquor."

He looked suspiciously at the forest, in which Indian sentinels had been
posted, but which, nevertheless, was so dark that a cunning form might
pass there unseen.

"There is more in this than meets the eye," muttered the partisan, and
drawing the arrows from the earth he examined them by the light of the
fire. Robert stood by, silent, but his eyes fell on fresh marks with a
knife, near the barb on each weapon, and the great pulse in his throat
leaped. The yellow flame threw out in distinct relief what the knife had
cut there, and he saw on each arrow the rude but unmistakable outline of a
bear.

The Owl might not determine the meaning of the picture, but the captive
comprehended it at once. It was the pride of Tayoga that he was of the clan
of the Bear, of the nation Onondaga, of the great League of the
Hodenosaunee, and here upon the arrows was his totem or sign of the Bear.
It was a message and Robert knew that it was meant for him. Had ever a man
a more faithful comrade? The Onondaga was still following in the hope of
making a rescue, and he would follow as long as Robert was living. Once
more the young prisoner's hopes of escape rose to the zenith.

"Now what do these marks mean?" said the partisan, looking at the arrows
suspiciously.

"It was merely an intoxicated warrior shooting at the moon," replied
Robert, innocently, "and the cuts signify nothing."

"I'm not so sure of that. I've lived long enough among the Indians to know
they don't fire away good arrows merely for bravado, and these are planted
so close together it must be some sort of a signal. It may have been
intended for you."

Robert was silent, and the partisan did not ask him any further questions,
but, being much disturbed, sent into the forest scouts, who returned
presently, unable to find anything.

"It may or it may not have been a message," he said, speaking to Robert, in
his usual garrulous fashion, "but I still incline to the opinion that it
was, though I may never know what the message meant, but I, Charles
Langlade, have not been called the Owl for nothing. If it refers to you
then your chance of escape has not increased. I hold you merely for
tonight, but I hold you tight and fast. Tomorrow my responsibility ceases,
and you march in the middle of Montcalm's army."

Robert made no reply, but he was in wonderful spirits, and his elation
endured. His senses, in truth, were so soothed by the visible evidence that
his comrade was near that he fell asleep very soon and had no dreams. The
French and Indian army began its march early the next morning, and Robert
found himself with about a dozen other prisoners, settlers who had been
swept up in its advance. They had been surprised in their cabins, or their
fields, newly cleared, and could tell him nothing, but he noticed that the
march was west.

He believed they were not far from Lake Ontario, and he had no doubt that
Montcalm had prepared some fell stroke. His mind settled at last upon
Oswego, where the Anglo-American forces had a post supposed to be strong,
and he was smitten with a fierce and commanding desire to escape and take a
warning. But he was compelled to eat his heart out without result. With
French and Indians all about him he had not the remotest chance and,
helpless, he was compelled to watch the Marquis de Montcalm march to what
he felt was going to be a French triumph.

Swarms of Indian scouts and skirmishers preceded the army and Canadian
axmen cut a way for the artillery, but to Robert's great amazement these
operations lasted only a short time. Almost before he could realize it they
had emerged from the deep woods and he looked again upon the vast, shining
reaches of Lake Ontario. Then he learned for the first time that Montcalm's
army had come mostly in boats and in detachments, and was now united for
attack. As he had surmised, Oswego, which the English and Americans had
intended to be a great stronghold and rallying place in the west, was the
menaced position.

Robert from a hill saw three forts before the French force, the largest
standing upon a plateau of considerable elevation on the east bank of the
river, which there flowed into the lake. It was shaped like a star, and the
fortifications consisted of trunks of trees, sharpened at the ends, driven
deep into the ground, and set as close together as possible. On the west
side of the river was another fort of stone and clay, and four hundred
yards beyond it was an unfinished stockade, so weak that its own garrison
had named it in derision Rascal Fort. Some flat boats and canoes lay in the
lake, and it was a man in one of these canoes who had been the first to
learn of the approach of Montcalm's army, so slender had been the
precautions taken by the officers in command of the forts.

"We have come upon them almost as if we had dropped from the clouds," said
Langlade, exultingly, to Robert. "When they thought the Marquis de Montcalm
was in Montreal, lo! he was here! It is the French who are the great
leaders, the great soldiers and the great nation! Think you we would allow
ourselves to be surprised as Oswego has been?"

Robert made no reply. His heart sank like a plummet in a pool. Already he
heard the crackling fire of musketry from the Indians who, sheltered in the
edge of the forest, were sending bullets against the stout logs of Fort
Ontario, but which could offer small resistance to cannon. And while the
sharpshooting went on, the French officers were planting the batteries, one
of four guns directly on the strand. The work was continued at a great pace
all through the night, and when Robert awoke from an uneasy sleep, in the
morning, he saw that the French had mounted twenty heavy cannon, which soon
poured showers of balls and grape and canister upon the log fort. He also
saw St. Luc among the guns directing their fire, while Tandakora's Indians
kept up an incessant and joyous yelling.

The defenders of the stockade maintained a fire from rifles and several
small cannon, but it did little harm in the attacking army and Robert was
soldier enough to know that the log walls could not hold. While St. Luc
sent in the fire from the batteries faster and faster, a formidable force
of Canadians and Indians led by Rigaud, one of the best of Montcalm's
lieutenants, crossed the river, the men wading in the water up to their
waists, but holding their rifles over their heads.

Tandakora was in this band, shouting savagely, and so was Langlade, but
Robert and the other prisoners, left under guard on the hill, saw
everything distinctly. They had no hope whatever that the chief fort, or
any of the forts, could hold out. Fragments of the logs were already flying
in the air as the stream of cannon balls beat upon them. The garrison made
a desperate resistance, but the cramped place was crowded with
women--settlers' wives--as well as men, the commander was killed, and at
last the white flag was hoisted on all the forts.

Then the Indians, intoxicated with triumph and the strong liquors they had
seized, rushed in and began to ply the tomahawk. Montcalm, horrified, used
every effort to stop the incipient butchery, and St. Luc, Bourlamaque and,
in truth, all of his lieutenants, seconded him gallantly. Tandakora and his
men were compelled to return their tomahawks to their belts, and then the
French army was drawn around the captives, who numbered hundreds and
hundreds.

It was another French and Indian victory like that over Braddock, though it
was not marked by the destruction of an army, and Robert's heart sank lower
and lower. He knew that it would be appalling news to Boston, to Albany and
to New York. The Marquis de Montcalm had justified the reputation that
preceded him. He had struck suddenly with lightning swiftness and with
terrible effect. Not only this blow, but its guarantee of others to come,
filled Robert's heart with fear for the future.

The sun sank upon a rejoicing army. The Indians were still yelling and
dancing, and, though they were no longer allowed to sink their tomahawks in
the heads of their defenseless foes, they made imaginary strokes with them,
and shouted ferociously as they leaped and capered.

Robert was on the strand near the shore of the lake, and wearied by his
long day of watching that which he wished least in the world to see, he sat
down on a sand heap, and put his head in his hands. Peculiarly sensitive to
atmosphere and surroundings, he was, for the moment, almost without hope.
But he knew, even when he was in despair, that his courage would come back.
It was one of the qualities of a temperament such as his that while he
might be in the depths at one hour he would be on the heights at the next.

Several of the Indians, apparently those who had got at the liquor, were
careering up and down the sands, showing every sign of the blood madness
that often comes in the moment of triumph upon savage minds. Robert raised
his face from his hands and looked to see if Tandakora was among them, but
he caught no glimpse of the gigantic Ojibway. The French soldiers who were
guarding the prisoners gazed curiously at the demoniac figures. They were
of the battalions Bearn and Guienne and they had come newly from France.
Plunged suddenly into the wilderness, such sights as they now beheld
filled them with amazement, and often created a certain apprehension. They
were not so sure that their wild allies were just the kind of allies they
wanted.

The sun set lower upon the savage scene, casting a dark glow over the
ruined forts, the troops, the leaping savages and the huddled prisoners.
One of the Indians danced and bounded more wildly than all the rest. He was
tall, but slim, apparently youthful, and he wore nothing except breech
cloth, leggings and moccasins, his naked body a miracle of savage painting.
Robert by and by watched him alone, fascinated by his extraordinary agility
and untiring enthusiasm. His figure seemed to shoot up in the air on
springs, and, with a glittering tomahawk, he slew and scalped an imaginary
foe over and over again, and every time the blade struck in the air he let
forth a shout that would have done credit to old Stentor himself. He ranged
up and down the beach, and presently, when he was close to Robert, he grew
more violent than ever, as if he were worked by some powerful mechanism
that would not let him rest. He had all the appearance of one who had gone
quite mad, and as he bounded near them, his tomahawk circling about his
head, the French guards shrank back, awed, and, at the same time, not
wishing to have any conflict with their red allies, who must be handled
with the greatest care.

The man paused a moment before the young prisoner, whirled his tomahawk
about his head and uttered a ferocious shout. Robert looked straight into
the burning eyes, started violently and then became outwardly calm, though
every nerve and muscle in him was keyed to the utmost tension. "To the
lake!" exclaimed the Indian under his breath and then he danced toward the
water.

Robert did not know at first what the words meant, and he waited in
indecision, but he saw that the care of the guards, owing to the confusion,
the fact that the battle was over, and the rejoicing for victory, was
relaxed. It would seem, too, that escape at such a time and place was
impossible, and that circumstance increased their inattention.

The youth watched the dancing warrior, who was now moving toward the water,
over which the darkness of night had spread. But the lake was groaning with
a wind from the north, and several canoes near the beach were bobbing up
and down. The dancer paused a moment at the very edge of the water, and
looked back at Robert. Then he advanced into the waves themselves.

All the young prisoner's indecision departed in a flash. The signal was
complete and he understood. He sprang violently against the French soldier
who stood nearest him and knocked him to the ground. Then with three or
four bounds he was at the water's edge, leaping into the canoe, just as
Tayoga settled himself into place there, and, seizing a paddle, pushed away
with powerful shoves.

Robert nearly upset the canoe, but the Onondaga quickly made it regain its
balance, and then they were out on the lake under the kindly veil of the
night. The fugitive said nothing, he knew it was no time to speak, because
Tayoga's powerful back was bending with his mighty efforts and the bullets
were pattering in the water behind them. It was luck that the canoe was a
large one, partaking more of the nature of a boat, as Robert could remain
concealed on the bottom without tipping it over, while the Onondaga
continued to put all his nervous power and skill into his strokes. It was
equally fortunate, also, that the night had come and that the dusk was
thick, as it distracted yet further the hasty aim of the French and Indians
on shore. One bullet from a French rifle grazed Robert's shoulder, another
was deflected from Tayoga's paddle without striking it from his hand, but
in a few minutes they were beyond the range of those who stood on the bank,
although lead continued to fall in the water behind them.

"Now you can rise, Dagaeoga," said the Onondaga, "and use the extra paddle
that I took the precaution to stow in the boat. Do not think because you
are an escaped prisoner that you are to rest in idleness and luxury, doing
no work while I do it all."

"God bless you, Tayoga!" exclaimed Robert, in the fullness of his emotion.
"I'll work a week without stopping if you say so. I'm so glad to see you
that I'll do anything you say, and ask no questions. But I want to tell you
you're the most wonderful dancer and jumper in America!"

"I danced and jumped so well, Dagaeoga, because your need made me do so.
Necessity gives a wonderful spring to the muscles. Behold how long and
strong you sweep with the paddle because the bullets of the enemy impel
you."

"Which way are we going, Tayoga? What is your plan?"

"Our aim at this moment, Dagaeoga, is the middle of the lake, because the
sons of Onontio and the warriors of Tandakora are all along the beach, and
would be waiting for us with rifle and tomahawk should we seek to land.
This is but a small boat in which we sit and it could not resist the waves
of a great storm, but at present it is far safer for us than any land near
by."

"Of course you're right, Tayoga, you always are, but we're in the thick of
the darkness now, so you rest awhile and let me do the paddling alone."

"It is a good thought, Dagaeoga, but keep straight in the direction we are
going. See that you do not paddle unconsciously in a curve. We shall
certainly be pursued, and although our foes cannot see us well in the dark,
some out of their number are likely to blunder upon us. If it comes to a
battle you will notice that I have an extra rifle and pistol for you lying
in the bottom of the canoe, and that I am something more than a supple
dancer and leaper."

"You not only think of everything, Tayoga, but you also do it, which is
better. I shall take care to keep dead ahead."

Robert in his turn bent forward and plied the paddle. He was not only
fresh, but the wonderful thrill of escape gave him a strength far beyond
the normal, and the great canoe fairly danced over the waters toward the
dusky deeps of the lake, while the Onondaga crouched at the other end of
the canoe, rifle in hand, intently watching the heavy pall of dusk behind
them.

Their situation was still dangerous in the extreme, but the soul of Tayoga
swelled with triumph. Tandakora, the Ojibway, had rejoiced because he had
expected a great taking of scalps, but the purer spirit of the Onondaga
soared into the heights because he had saved his comrade of a thousand
dangers. He still saw faintly through the darkness the campfires of the
victorious French and Indian army, and he heard the swish of paddles, but
he did not yet discern any pursuing canoe. He detached his eyes for a
moment from the bank of dusk in front of him, and looked up at the skies.
The clouds and vapors kept him from seeing the great star upon which his
patron saint, Tododaho, sat, but he knew that he was there, and that he was
watching over him. He could not have achieved so much in the face of
uttermost peril and then fail in the lesser danger.

The canoe glided swiftly on toward the wider reaches of the lake, and the
Onondaga never relaxed his watchfulness, for an instant. He was poised in
the canoe, every nerve and muscle ready to leap in a second into activity,
while his ears were strained for the sounds of paddles or oars. Now he
relied, as often before, more upon hearing than sight. Presently a sound
came, and it was that of oars. A boat parted the wall of dusk and he saw
that it contained both French and Indians, eight in all, the warriors
uttering a shout as they beheld the fugitive canoe.

"Keep steadily on, Dagaeoga," said the Onondaga. "I have my long barreled
rifle, and it will carry much farther than those of the foe. In another
minute it will tell them they had best stop, and if they will not obey its
voice then I will repeat the command with your rifle."

Robert heard the sharp report of Tayoga's weapon, and then a cry from the
pursuing boat, saying the bullet had found its mark.

"They still come, though in a hesitating manner," said Tayoga, "and I must
even give them a second notice."

Now Robert heard the crack of the other rifle, and the answering cry,
signifying that its bullet, too, had sped home.

"They stop now," said Tayoga. "They heed the double command." He rapidly
reloaded the rifles, and Robert, who saw an uncommonly thick bank of dusk
ahead, paddled directly into the heart of it. They paused there a few
moments and neither saw nor heard any pursuers. Tayoga put down the rifles,
now ready again for his deadly aim, and the two kept for a long time a
straight course toward the center of the lake.




CHAPTER X


THE FLIGHT OF THE TWO

Tayoga, into whose hands Robert had entrusted himself with the uttermost
faith, at last said stop, and drawing the paddles into the canoe they took
long, deep breaths of relief. Around them was a world of waters, silver
under the moon and stars now piercing the dusk, and the Onondaga could see
the vast star on which sat the mighty chieftain who had gone away four
hundred years ago to eternal life.

"O Tododaho," he murmured, "thou hast guarded us well."

"Where do you think we are, Tayoga?" asked Robert.

"Perhaps twenty miles from land," replied the Onondaga, "and the farther
the better."

"True, Tayoga. Never before did I see a big lake look so kindly. If it
didn't require so much effort I'd like to go to the very center of it and
stay there for a week."

"Even as it is, Dagaeoga, we will wait here a while and take the long rest
we need."

"And while we're doing nothing but swing in our great canoe, Tayoga, I want
to thank you for all you've done for me. I'd been a prisoner much longer
than I wished."

"It but repays my debt, Dagaeoga. You will recall that you helped to save
me from the hands of Tandakora when he was going to burn me at the stake.
My imprisonment was short, but I have been in the forest the whole winter
and spring seeking to take you from Langlade."

"All of which goes to show, Tayoga, that we must allow only one of us to be
captured at a time. The other must go free in order to rescue the one
taken."

Although Robert's tone was light, his feeling was far from frivolous, but
he had been at extreme tension so long that he was compelled to seek
relief.

"How did you manage it, Tayoga?" he asked.

"In the confusion of the attack on the forts and the rejoicing that
followed it was easy," replied the Onondaga. "When so many others were
dancing and leaping it attracted no attention for me to dance and leap
also, and I selected, without interference, the boat, the extra paddle,
weapons and ammunition that I wished. Areskoui and Tododaho did the rest.
Do you feel stronger now, Dagaeoga?"

"Aye, I'm still able to handle the paddle. I suppose we'd better seek a
landing. We can't stay out in the lake forever. Tayoga, you've taken the
part of Providence itself. Now did it occur to you in your infinite wisdom,
while you were storing paddles, weapons and ammunition in this boat, to
store food also?"

The Onondaga's smile was wide and satisfying.

"I thought of that, too, Dagaeoga," he replied, "because I knew our
journey, if we should be so fortunate as to have a journey, would take us
out on the lake, and I knew, also, that no matter how many hardships and
dangers Dagaeoga might pass through, the time would come when he would be
hungry. It is always so with Dagaeoga."

He took a heavy knapsack from the bottom of the canoe and opened it.

"It is a French knapsack," he said, "and it contains both bread and meat,
which we will enjoy."

They ate in great content, and their spirits rose to an extraordinary
degree, though Tayoga regretted the absence of clothing which his disguise
had made necessary. Having been educated with white lads, and having
associated with white people so much, he was usually clad as completely as
they, either in their fashion or in his own full Indian costume.

"My infinite wisdom was not so infinite that it told me to take a blanket,"
he said, "and the wind coming down from the Canadian shore is growing
cold."

"I'm surprised to hear you speak of such trifles as that, Tayoga, when
we've been dealing with affairs of life and death."

"We are cold or we are warm, Dagaeoga, and peril and suffering do not alter
it. But lo! the wind is bringing the great mists with it, and we will
escape in them."

They turned the canoe toward a point far to the east of the Indian camp and
began to paddle, not hastily but with long, slow, easy strokes that sent
the canoe over the water at a great rate. The fogs and vapors were thick
and close about them, but Tayoga knew the direction. Robert asked him if he
had heard of Willet, and the Onondaga said he had not seen him, but he had
learned from a Mohawk runner that the Great Bear had reached Waraiyageh
with the news of St. Luc's prospective advance, and Tayoga had also
contrived to get news through to him that he was lying in the forest,
waiting a chance to effect the rescue of Robert.

Toward morning they landed on a shore, clothed in deep and primeval forest,
and with reluctance abandoned their canoe.

"It is an Abenaki craft," said Tayoga. "It is made well, it has served us
well, and we will treat it well."

Instead of leaving it on the lake to the mercy of storms they drew it into
some bushes at the mouth of a small creek, where it would stay securely,
and probably serve some day some chance traveler. Then they plunged into
the deep forest, but when they saw a smoke Robert remained hidden while
Tayoga went on, but with the intention of returning.

The Onondaga was quite sure the smoke indicated the presence of a small
village and his quest was for clothes.

"Let Dagaeoga rest in peace here in the thicket," he said, "and when I come
back I shall be clad as a man. Have no fears for me. I will not enter the
village Until after dark."

He glided away without noise, and Robert, having supreme confidence in him,
lay down among the bushes, which were so dense that the keenest eyes could
not have seen him ten feet away. His frame was relaxed so thoroughly after
his immense exertions and he felt such utter thankfulness at his escape
that he soon fell into a deep slumber rather than sleep, and when he awoke
the dark had come, bringing with it Tayoga.

"Lo, Dagaeoga," said the Onondaga, in a tone of intense satisfaction, "I
have done well. It is not pleasant to me to take the property of others,
but in this case what I have seized must have been captured from the
English. No watch was kept in the village, as they had heard of their great
victory and the warriors were away. I secured three splendid blankets, two
of green and one of brown. Since you have a coat, Dagaeoga, you can have
one green blanket and I will take the other two, one to wear and the other
to sleep in. I also took away more powder and lead, and as I have my bullet
molds we can increase our ammunition when we need it. I have added, too, a
supply of venison to our beef and bread."

"You're an accomplished burglar, Tayoga, but I think that in this case your
patron saint, Tododaho, will forgive you. I'm devoutly glad of the blanket.
I feel stiff and sore, after such great exertions, and I find I've grown
cold with the coming of the dark."

"It is a relapse," said Tayoga with some anxiety. "The strain on mind and
body has been too great. Better wrap yourself in the blanket at once, and
lie quiet in the thicket."

Robert was prompt to take his advice, as his body was hot and his sight
was wavering. He felt that he was going to be ill and he might get it over
all the quicker by surrendering to it at once. He rolled the blanket
tightly about himself and lay down on the softest spot he could find. In
the night he became delirious and talked continually of Langlade, St. Luc
and Montcalm. But Tayoga watched by him continually until late, when he
hunted through the forest by moonlight for some powerful herbs known to
the Indians. In the morning he beat them and bruised them and cooked them
as best he could without utensils, and then dropped the juices into his
comrade's mouth, after which he carefully put out the fire, lest it be seen
by savage rovers.

Robert was soon very much better. He had a profuse perspiration and came
out of his unconscious state, but was quite weak. He was also thoroughly
ashamed of himself.

"Nice time for me to be breaking down," he said, "here in the wilderness
near an Indian village, hundreds of miles from any of our friends, save
those who are captured. I make my apologies, Tayoga."

"They are not needed," said the Onondaga. "You defended me with your life
when I was wounded and the wolves sought to eat me, now I repay again.
There is nothing for Dagaeoga to do but to keep on perspiring, see that the
blanket is still wrapped around him, and tonight I will get something in
which to cook the food he needs."

"How will you do that?"

"I will go again to my village. I call it mine because it supplies what we
need and I will return with the spoil. Bide you in peace, Dagaeoga. You
have called me an accomplished burglar. I am more, I am a great one."

Robert had the utmost confidence in him, and it was justified. When he
awoke from a restless slumber, Tayoga stood beside him, holding in his hand
a small iron kettle made in Canada, and a great iron spoon.

"They are the best they had in the village," he said. "It is not a large
and rich village and so its possessions are not great, but I think these
will do. I have also brought with me some very tender meat of a young deer
that I found in one of the lodges."

"You're all you claimed to be and more, Tayoga," said Robert earnestly and
gratefully.

The Onondaga lighted a fire in a dip, and cutting the deer into tiny bits
made a most appetizing soup, which Robert's weak stomach was able to retain
and to crave more.

"No," said Tayoga, "enough for tonight, but you shall have twice as much in
the morning. Now, go to sleep again."

"I haven't been doing anything but sleep for the last day or two. I want to
get up and walk."

"And have your fever come back. Besides, you are not strong enough yet to
walk more than a few steps."

Robert knew that he would be forced to obey, and he passed the night partly
in dozing, and partly in staring at the sky. In the morning he was very
hungry and showed an increase of strength. Tayoga, true to his word, gave
him a double portion of the soup, but still forbade sternly any attempt at
walking.

"Lie there, Dagaeoga," he said, "and let the wind blow over you, and I'll
go farther into the forest to see if friend or enemy be near."

Robert, feeling that he must, lay peacefully on his back after the Onondaga
left him. He was free from fever, but he knew that Tayoga was right in
forbidding him to walk. It would be several days yet before he could
fulfill his old duties, as an active and powerful forest runner. Yet he was
very peaceful because the soreness of body that had troubled him was gone
and strength was flowing back into his veins. Despite the fact that he was
lying on his back alone in the wilderness, with savage foes not far away,
he believed that he had very much for which to be grateful. He had been
taken almost by a miracle out of the hands of his foes, and, when he was
ill and in his weakness might have been devoured by wild beasts or might
have starved to death, the most loyal and resourceful of comrades had been
by his side to save him.

He saw the great star on which Tayoga's Tododaho lived, and he accepted so
much of the Iroquois theology, believing that it was in spirit and essence
the same as his own Christian belief, that he almost imagined he could see
the great Onondaga chieftain who had gone away four centuries ago. In any
event, it was a beneficent star, and he was glad that it shone down on him
so brilliantly.

Tayoga before his departure had loaned him one of his blankets and now he
lay upon it, with the other wrapped around him, his loaded pistol in his
belt and his loaded rifle lying by his side. The fire that the Onondaga had
built in the dip not far away had been put out carefully and the ashes had
been scattered.

Although it was midsummer, the night, as often happened in that northern
latitude, had come on cool, and the warmth of the blankets was not
unwelcome. Robert knew that he was only a mote in all that vast wilderness,
but the contiguity of the Indian village might cause warriors, either
arriving or departing, to pass near him. So he was not surprised when he
heard footsteps in the bushes not far away, and then the sound of voices.
Instinctively he tried to press his body into the earth, and he also lifted
carefully the loaded rifle, but second thought told him he was not likely
to be seen.

Warriors presently came so near that they were visible, and to his surprise
and alarm he saw the huge figure of Tandakora among them. They were about a
dozen in number, walking in the most leisurely manner and once stopped very
close to him to talk. Although he raised himself up a little and clutched
the rifle more tightly he was still hopeful that they would not see him.
The Ojibway chieftain was in full war paint, with a fine new American
rifle, and also a small sword swinging from his belt. Both were undoubtedly
trophies of Oswego, and it was certain that after carrying the sword for a
while as a prize he would discard it. Indians never found much use for
swords.

Robert always believed that Tayoga's Tododaho protected him that night,
because for a while all the chances were against him. As the warriors stood
near talking a frightened deer started up in the thicket, and Tandakora
himself brought it down with a lucky bullet, the unfortunate animal falling
not thirty yards from the hidden youth. They removed the skin and cut it
into portions where it lay, the whole task taking about a half hour, and
all the time Robert, lying under the brush, saw them distinctly.

He was in mortal fear lest one of them wander into the dip where Tayoga had
built the fire, and see traces of the ashes, but they did not do so. Twice
warriors walked in that direction and his heart was in his mouth, but in
neither case did the errand take them so far. Tandakora was not alone in
bearing Oswego spoils. Nearly all of them had something, a rifle, a pistol
or a sword, and two wore officers' laced coats over their painted bodies.
The sight filled Robert with rage. Were his people to go on this way
indefinitely, sacrificing men and posts in unrelated efforts? Would they
allow the French, with inferior numbers, to beat them continuously? He had
seen Montcalm and talked with him, and he feared everything from that
daring and tenacious leader.

While the Indians prepared the deer the moon and stars came out with
uncommon brilliancy, filling the forest with a misty, silver light. Robert
now saw Tandakora and his men so clearly that it seemed impossible for them
not to see him. Once more he had the instinctive desire to press himself
into the earth, but his mind told him that absolute silence was the most
necessary thing. As he lay, he could have picked off Tandakora with a
bullet from his rifle, and, so far as the border was concerned, he felt
that his own life was worth the sacrifice, but he loved his life and the
Ojibway might be put out of the way at some other time and place.

Tayoga's Tododaho protected him once more. Two of the Indians wanted water
and they started in search of a brook which was never far away in that
region. It seemed for a moment or two that they would walk directly into
the dip, where scattered ashes lay, but the great Onondaga turned them
aside just in time and they found at another point the water they wished.
Robert's extreme tension lasted until they were back with the others.
Nevertheless their harmless return encouraged him in the belief that the
star was working in his behalf.

The Indians were in no hurry. They talked freely over their task of
dressing and quartering the deer, and often they were so near that Robert
could hear distinctly what they said, but only once or twice did they use a
dialect that he could understand, and then they were speaking of the great
victory of Oswego, in which they confirmed the inference, drawn from the
spoils, that they like Tandakora had taken a part. They were in high good
humor, expecting more triumphs, and regarded the new French commander,
Montcalm, as a great and invincible leader.

Robert was glad, then, that he was such an insignificant mote in the
wilderness and had he the power he would have made himself so small that he
would have become invisible, but as that was impossible he still trusted
in Tayoga's Tododaho. The Indian chief gave two of the warriors an order,
and they started on a course that would have brought them straight to him.
The lad gave himself up for lost, but, intending to make a desperate fight
for it, despite his weakness, his hand crept to the hammer and trigger of
his rifle. Something moved in the thicket, a bear, perhaps, or a lynx, and
the two Indians, when they were within twenty feet of him, turned aside to
investigate it. Then they went on, and it was quite clear again to Robert
that he had been right about the friendly intervention of Tododaho.

Nor was it long until the truth was demonstrated to him once more, and in a
conclusive manner. The entire party departed, taking with them the portions
of the deer, and they passed so very close to him that their wary eyes,
which always watched on all sides, would have been compelled to see him, if
Tododaho, or perhaps it was Areskoui, or even Manitou, had not seen fit
just at that moment to draw a veil before the moon and stars and make the
shadow so deep under the bush where young Lennox lay that he was invisible,
although they stepped within fifteen feet of him. They went on in their
usual single file, disappearing in the direction of the village, while he
lay still and gave thanks.

They had not been gone more than fifteen minutes when there was a faint
rustle in the thicket, and Tayoga stood before him.

"I was hid in a clump of weeds not far away and I saw," said the Onondaga.
"It was a narrow escape, but you were protected by the great powers of the
earth and the air. Else they would have seen you."

"It is so," said Robert, devoutly, "and it makes me all the more glad to
see you, Tayoga. I hope your journey, like all the others, has been
fruitful."

The Onondaga smiled in the dusk.

"It is a good village to which I go," he replied in his precise fashion.
"You will recall that they had in Albany what they call in the English
tongue a chemist's shop. It is such that I sought in the village, and I
found it in one lodge, the owners of which were absent, and which I could
reach at my leisure. Here is a gourd of Indian tea, very strong, made from
the essence of the sassafras root. It will purge the impurities from your
blood, and, in another day, your appetite will be exceedingly strong. Then
your strength will grow so fast that in a short time you will be ready for
a long journey. I have also brought a small sack filled with samp."

Robert uttered a little cry of joy. He craved bread, or at least something
that would take its place, and samp, a variation of which is known as
hominy, was a most acceptable substitute.

"You are, in truth, a most efficient burglar, Tayoga," he said.

"I obtained also information," continued the Onondaga. "While I lay in one
of the lodges, hidden under furs, I heard two of the old men talking. They
believe since they have taken Oswego that all things are possible for them
and the French. Montcalm appears to them the greatest of all leaders and
he will take them from one victory to another. Their defeat by Andiatarocte
is forgotten, and they plan a great advance toward the south. But they
intend first to sweep up all the scouts and bands of the Americans and
English. Their first attack will be upon Rogers, him whom we call the
Mountain Wolf."

"Rogers! Is he somewhere near us?" exclaimed Robert eagerly.

"Far to the east toward Andiatarocte, but they mean to strike him. The
Frenchmen De Courcelles and Jumonville will join with Tandakora, then St.
Luc will go too and he will lead a great force against the Mountain Wolf,
with whom, I suspect, our friend the Great Bear now is, hoping perhaps, as
they hunt through the forest, to discover some traces of us."

"I knew all along, Tayoga, that Dave would seek me and rescue me if you
didn't, or if I didn't rescue myself, provided I remained alive, as you see
I did."

"The Great Bear is the most faithful of all comrades. He would never desert
a friend in the hands of the enemy."

"You think then that we should try to meet the Mountain Wolf and his
rangers?"

"Of a certainty. As soon as Dagaeoga is strong enough. Now lie still, while
I scout through the forest. If no enemy is near I will heat the tea, and
then you must drink, and drink deep."

He made a wide circuit, and, coming back, lighted a little fire on which he
warmed the tea in the pot that he had taken from the village on an earlier
night. Then, under the insistence of Tayoga, Robert drank a quantity that
amounted to three cups, and soon fell into a deep sleep, from which he
awoke the next day with an appetite so sharp that he felt able to bite a
big piece out of a tree.

"I think I'll go hunt a buffalo, kill him and eat him whole," he said in a
large, round voice.

"If so Dagaeoga will have to roam far," said Tayoga sedately. "The buffalo
is not found east of the Alleghanies, as you well know."

"Of course I know it, but what are time and distance to a Samson like me? I
say I will go forth and slay a buffalo, unless I am fed at once and in
enormous quantities."

"Would a haunch of venison and a gallon of samp help Dagaeoga a little?"

"Yes, a little, they'd serve as appetizers for something real and
substantial to come."

"Then if you feel so strong and are charged so full of ambition you can
help cook breakfast. You have had an easy time, Dagaeoga, but life
henceforth will not be all eating and sleeping."

They had a big and pleasant breakfast together and Robert rejoiced in his
new vigor. It was wonderful to be so strong after having been so weak, it
was like life after death, and he was eager to start at once.

"It is a good thing to have been ill," he said, "because then you know how
fine it is to be well."

"But we will not depart before tomorrow," said the Onondaga decisively.

"And why?"

"Because you have lived long enough in the wilderness, Dagaeoga, to know
that one must always fight the weather. Look into the west, and you will
see a little cloud moving up from the horizon. It does not amount to much
at present, but it contains the seed of great things. It has been sent by
the Rain God, and it will not do yet for Dagaeoga, despite his new
strength, to travel in the rain."

Robert became anxious as he watched the little cloud, which seemed to swell
as he looked at it, and which soon assumed an angry hue. He knew that
Tayoga had told the truth. Coming out of his fever it would be a terrible
risk for him to become drenched.

"We will make a shelter such as we can in the dip where we built the fire,"
said Tayoga, "and now you can use your new strength as much as you will in
wielding a tomahawk."

They cut small saplings with utmost speed and speedily accomplished one of
the most difficult tasks of the border, making a rude brush shelter which
with the aid of their blankets would protect them from the storm. By the
time they had finished, the little cloud which had been at first a mere
signal had grown so prodigiously that it covered the whole heavens, and the
day became almost as dark as twilight. The lightning began to flash in
great, blazing strokes, and the thunder was so nearly continuous that the
earth kept up an incessant jarring. Then the rain poured heavily and Robert
saw Tayoga's wisdom. Although the shelter and his blanket kept the rain
from him he felt cold in the damp, and shivered as if with a chill.

"When the storm stops, which will not be before dark," said Tayoga, "I
shall go to the village and get you a heavy buffalo robe. They have some,
acquired in trade from the Indians of the western plains, and one of them
belongs to you. So, Dagaeoga, I will get it."

"Tayoga, you have taken too much risk for me already. I can make out very
well as I am, and suppose we start tonight in search of Rogers and Willet."

"I mean to have my way, because in this case my way is right. We work
together as partners, and the partnership becomes ineffective when one
member of it cannot endure the hardships of a long march, and perhaps of
battle. And has not Dagaeoga said that I am an accomplished burglar? I
prove it anew tonight. As soon as the rain ceases I will go to the village,
the great storehouse of our supplies."

The Onondaga spoke in a light tone with a whimsical inflection, but Robert
saw that he was intensely in earnest, and that it was not worth while for
him to say more. The great storm passed on to the southward, the rain sank
to a drizzle, but it was very cold in the forest, and Robert's teeth
chattered, despite every effort to control his body.

"I go, Dagaeoga," said Tayoga, "and I shall return with the great, warm
buffalo robe that belongs to you."

Then he melted without noise into the darkness and Robert was alone. He
knew the mission of the Onondaga to be a perilous one, but he did not doubt
his success. The cold drizzle fell on the shelter of brush and saplings,
and some of it seeped through. Now and then a drop found its way down his
neck, and it felt like ice. Physically he was very miserable, and it began
to depress his spirit. He hoped that Tayoga would not be long in obtaining
the buffalo robe.

The thunder moaned a little far to the south, and then died down entirely.
There were one or two stray flashes of lightning and then no more. He sank
into a sort of doze that was more like a stupor, from which he was awakened
by a dusky figure in the doorway of the little shelter. It was Tayoga, and
he bore a heavy dark bundle over his arm.

"I have brought the buffalo robe that belongs to you, Dagaeoga," he said
cheerfully. "It was in the lodge of the head chief of the village and I had
to wait until he went forth to greet Tandakora, who came with a band of his
warriors to claim shelter, food and rest. Then I took what was your own and
here it is, one of the finest I have ever seen."

He held up the great buffalo robe, tanned splendidly and rich in fur and
the sight of it made Robert's teeth stop chattering. He wrapped it around
his body and sufficient warmth came back.

"You're a marvel, Tayoga," he said. "Does the village contain anything else
that belongs to us?"

"Nothing that I can think of now. The rain will cease entirely in an hour,
and then we will start."

His prediction was right, and they set forth in the dark forest, Robert
wearing the great buffalo robe which stored heat and consequent energy in
his frame. But the woods were so wet, and it was so difficult to find a
good trail that they did not make very great progress, and when dawn came
they were only a few miles away. Robert's strength, however, stood the
test, and they dared to light a fire and have a warm breakfast. Much
refreshed they plunged on anew, hunting for friends who could not be much
more than motes in the wilderness. Robert hoped that some chance would
enable him to meet Willet, to whom he owed so much, and who stood in the
place of a father to him. It did not seem possible that the Great Bear
could have fallen in one of the numerous border skirmishes, which must have
been fought since his capture. He could not associate death with a man so
powerful and vital as Willet.

The day was bright and warm, and he took off the buffalo robe. It was quite
a weight to be carried, but he knew he would need it again when night came
and particularly if there were other storms. They saw many trails in the
afternoon and Tayoga was quite sure they were made by war bands. Nearly all
of them led southeast.

"The savages in the west and about the Great Lakes," he said, "have heard
of the victory at Oswego, and so they pour out to the French standard,
expecting many scalps and great spoils. Whenever the French win a triumph
it means more warriors for them."

"And may not some of the bands going to the war stumble on our own trail?"

"It is likely, Dagaeoga. But if it comes to battle see how much better it
is that you should be strong and able."

"Yes, I concede now, Tayoga, that it was right for us to wait as long as
we did."

The trails grew much more numerous as they advanced. Evidently swarms of
warriors were about them and before midday Tayoga halted.

"It will not be wise for us to advance farther," he said. "We must seek
some hiding place."

"Hark to that!" exclaimed Robert.

A breeze behind them bore a faint shout to his ear. Tayoga listened
intently, and it was repeated once.

"Pursuit!" he said briefly. "They have come by chance upon our trail. It
may be Tandakora himself and it is unfortunate. They will never leave us
now, unless they are driven back."

"Then we'd better turn back towards the north, as the thickest of the
swarms are sure to be to the south of us."

"It is so. Again the longest of roads becomes the safest for us, but we
will not make it wholly north, we will bear to the east also. I once left a
canoe, hidden in the edge of a lake there, and we may find it."

"What will we do with it if we find it?"

"Tandakora will not be able to follow the trail of a canoe. But now we must
press forward with all speed, Dagaeoga. See, there is a smoke in the south
and now another answers it in the north. They are talking about us."

Robert saw the familiar signals which always meant peril to them, and he
was willing to go forward at the uttermost speed. He had become hardened in
a measure to danger, though it seemed to him that he was passing through
enough of it to last a lifetime. But his soul rose to meet it.

They used all the customary devices to hide their traces, wading when there
was water, walking on stones or logs when they were available, but they
knew these stratagems would only delay Tandakora, they could not throw him
off the trail entirely. They hoped more from the coming dark, and, when
night came, it found them going at great speed. Just at twilight they heard
a faint shout again and the faint shout in reply, telling them the pursuit
was maintained, but the night fortunately proved to be very dark, and, an
hour or two later, they came to a heavy windrow, the result of some old
hurricane into which they drew for shelter and rest. They knew that not
even the Indian trailers could find them there in such darkness, and for
the present they were without apprehension.

"Do you think they will pass us in the night?" asked Robert.

"No," replied Tayoga. "They will wait until the dawn and pick up the trail
anew."

"Then we'd better start again about midnight."

"I think so, too."

Meanwhile, lying comfortably among the fallen trees and leaves, they waited
in silence.




CHAPTER XI


THE MYSTIC VOYAGE

The long stay in the windrow served Robert well, more than atoning for the
drain made upon his strength by their rapid flight. In three or four hours
he was back in his normal state, and he felt proudly that he was now as
good as he had ever been. The night, as they had expected, was cold, and he
was thankful that he had hung on to the buffalo robe, in which he wrapped
himself once more, while Tayoga was snug between two big blankets.

Robert dozed, but he was awakened by something stirring near them, and he
sat up with his finger on the trigger of his rifle. The Onondaga was
already listening and watching, ready with his weapon. Presently the white
youth heard his companion laughing softly, and his own tension relaxed, as
he knew Tayoga would not laugh without good cause.

"It is a bear," said Tayoga, "and he has a lair in the windrow, not more
than twenty feet away. He has been out very late at night, too late for a
good, honest home-keeping bear, but he is back at last, and he smells us."

"And alarmed by the odor he does not know whether to enter his home or not.
Well, I hope he'll conclude to take his rest. We eat bear at times,
Tayoga, but just now I wouldn't dream of harming one."

"Nor would I, Dagaeoga, and maybe the bear will divine that we are
harmless, that is, Tododaho or Areskoui will tell him in some way of which
we know nothing that his home is his own to be entered without fear."

"I think I hear him moving now, and also puffing a little."

"You hear aright, Dagaeoga. Tododaho has whispered to him, even as I said,
and he is going into his den which I know is snug and warm, in the very
thickest part of the windrow. Now he is lying down in it with the logs and
branches about him, and soon he will be asleep, dreaming happy dreams of
tender roots and wild honey with no stings of bees to torment him."

"You grow quite poetical, Tayoga."

"Although foes are hunting us, I feel the spirit of the forest and of peace
strong upon me, Dagaeoga. Moreover, Tododaho, as I told you, has whispered
to the animals that we are not to be feared tonight. Hark to the tiny
rustling just beyond the log against which we lie!"

"Yes, I hear it, and what do you make of it, Tayoga?"

"Rabbits seeking their nests. They, too, have snuffed about, noticing the
man odor, which man himself cannot detect, and once they started away in
alarm, but now they are reassured, and they have settled themselves down to
sleep in comfort and security."

"Tayoga, you talk well and fluently, but as I have told you before, you
talk out of a dictionary."

"But as I learned my English out of a dictionary I cannot talk otherwise.
That is why my language is always so much superior to yours, Dagaeoga."

"I'll let it be as you claim it, you boaster, but what noise is that now? I
seem to hear the light sound of hoofs."

The Onondaga raised himself to his full height and peered over the dense
masses of trunks and boughs, his keen eyes cutting the thick dusk. Then he
sank back, and, when he replied, his voice showed distinct pleasure.

"Two deer have come into a little open space, around which the arms of the
windrow stretch nearly all the way, and they have crouched there, where
they will rest, indifferent to the nearness of the bear. Truly, O Dagaeoga,
we have come into the midst of a happy family, and we have been accepted,
for the night, as members of it."

"It must be so, Tayoga, because I see a figure much larger than that of the
deer approaching. Look to the north and behold that shadow there under the
trees."

"I see it, Dagaeoga. It is the great northern moose, a bull. Perhaps he has
wandered down from Canada, as they are rare here. They are often
quarrelsome, but the bull is going to take his rest, within the shelter of
the windrow, and leave its other people at peace. Now he has found a good
place, and he will be quiet for the night."

"Suppose you sleep a while, Tayoga. You have done all the watching for a
long time, and, as I'm fit and fine now, it's right for me to take up my
share of the burden."

"Very well, but do not fail to awaken me in about three hours. We must not
be caught here in the morning by the warriors."

He was asleep almost instantly, and Robert sat in a comfortable position
with his rifle across his knees. Responsibility brought back to him
self-respect and pride. He was now a full partner in the partnership, and
will and strength together made his faculties so keen that it would have
been difficult for anything about the windrow to have escaped his
attention. He heard the light rustlings of other animals coming to comfort
and safety, and flutterings as birds settled on upthrust boughs, many of
which were still covered with leaves. Once he heard a faint shout deep in
the forest, brought by the wind a great distance, and he was sure that it
was the cry of their Indian pursuers. Doubtless it was a signal and had
connection with the search, but he felt no alarm. Under the cover of
darkness Tayoga and he were still motes in the wilderness, and, while the
night lasted, Tandakora could not find them.

When he judged that the three hours had passed he awoke the Onondaga and
they took their silent way north by east, covering much more distance by
dawn. But both were certain that warriors of Tandakora would pick up their
traces again that day. They would spread through the forest, and, when one
of them struck the trail, a cry would be sufficient to call the others.
But they pressed on, still adopting every possible device to throw off
their pursuers, and they continued their flight several days, always
through an unbroken forest, over hills and across many streams, large and
small. It seemed, at times, to Robert that the pursuit must have dropped
away, but Tayoga was quite positive that Tandakora still followed. The
Ojibway, he said, had divined the identity of the fugitives and every
motive would make him follow, even all the way across the Province of New
York and beyond, if need be.

They came at last to a lake, large, beautiful, extending many miles through
the wilderness, and Tayoga, usually so calm, uttered a little cry of
delight, which Robert repeated, but in fuller volume.

"I think lakes are the finest things in the world," he said. "They always
stir me."

"And that is why Manitou put so many and such splendid ones in the land of
the Hodenosaunee," said Tayoga. "This is Ganoatohale, which you call in
your language Oneida, and it is on its shores that I hid the canoe of which
I spoke to you. I think we shall find it just as I left it."

"I devoutly hope so. A canoe and paddles would give me much pleasure just
now, and Ganoatohale will leave no trail."

They walked northward along the shore of the lake, and they came to a place
where many tall reeds grew thick and close in shallow water. Tayoga plunged
into the very heart of them and Robert's heart rose with a bound, when he
reappeared dragging after him a large and strong canoe, containing two
paddles.

"It has rested in quiet waiting for us," he said. "It is a good canoe, and
it knew that I would come some time to claim it."

"Before we go upon our voyage," said Robert, "I think we shall have to pay
some attention to the question of food. My pouch is about empty."

"And so is mine. We shall have to take the risk, Dagaeoga, and shoot a
deer. Tandakora may be so far behind that none of his warriors will hear
the shot, but even so we cannot live without eating. We will, however, hunt
from the canoe. Since the war began, all human beings have gone away from
this lake, and the deer should be plentiful."

They launched the canoe on the deep waters, and the two took up the
paddles, sending their little craft northward, with slow, deliberate
strokes. They had the luck within the hour to find a deer drinking, and
with equal luck Robert slew it at the first shot. They would have taken the
body into the canoe, but the burden was too great, and Tayoga cut it up and
dressed it with great dispatch, while Robert watched. Then they made room
for the four quarters and again paddled northward. Fearing that Tandakora
had come much nearer, while they were busy with the deer, they did not dare
the wide expanse of the lake, but remained for the present under cover of
the overhanging forest on the western shore.

"If we put the lake between Tandakora and ourselves," said Robert, "we
ought to be safe."

"It is likely that they, too, have canoes hidden in the reeds," said
Tayoga. "Since the French and their allies have spread so far south they
would provide for the time when they wanted to go upon the waters of
Ganoatohale. It is almost a certainty that we shall be pursued upon the
lake."

They continued northward, never leaving the dark shadow cast by the dense
leafage, and, as they went slowly, they enjoyed the luxury of the canoe.
After so much walking through the wilderness it was a much pleasanter
method of traveling. But they did not forget vigilance, continually
scanning the waters, and Robert's heart gave a sudden beat as he saw a
black dot appear upon the surface of the lake in the south. It was followed
in a moment by another, then another and then three more.

"It is the band of Tandakora, beyond a doubt," said Tayoga with conviction.
"They had their canoes among the reeds even as we had ours, and now it is
well for us that water leaves no trail."

"Shall we hide the canoe again, and take to the woods?"

"I think not, Dagaeoga. They have had no chance to see us yet. We will
withdraw among the reeds until night comes, and then under its cover cross
Ganoatohale."

Keeping almost against the bank, they moved gently until they came to a
vast clump of reeds into which they pushed the canoe, while retaining their
seats in it. In the center they paused and waited. From that point they
could see upon the lake, while remaining invisible themselves, and they
waited.

The six canoes or large boats, they could not tell at the distance which
they were, went far out into the lake, circled around for a while, and then
bore back toward the western shore, along which they passed, inspecting it
carefully, and drawing steadily nearer to Robert and Tayoga.

"Now, let us give thanks to Tododaho, Areskoui and to Manitou himself,"
said the Onondaga, "that they have been pleased to make the reeds grow in
this particular place so thick and so tall."

"Yes," said Robert, "they're fine reeds, beautiful reeds, a greater bulwark
to us just now than big oaks could be. Think you, Tayoga, that you
recognize the large man in the first boat?"

"Aye, Dagaeoga, I know him, as you do also. How could we mistake our great
enemy, Tandakora? It is a formidable fleet, too strong for us to resist,
and, like the wise man, we hide when we cannot fight."

Robert's pulses beat so hard they hurt, but he would not show any
uneasiness in the presence of Tayoga, and he sat immovable in the canoe.
Nearer and nearer came the Indian fleet, partly of canoes and partly of
boats, and he counted in them sixteen warriors, all armed heavily. Now he
prayed to Manitou, and to his own God who was the same as Manitou, that no
thought of pushing among the reeds would enter Tandakora's head. The fleet
soon came abreast of them, but his prayers were answered, as Tandakora led
ahead, evidently thinking the fugitives would not dare to hide and lie in
waiting, but would press on in flight up the western shore.

"I could pick him off from here with a bullet," said Robert, looking at the
huge, painted chest of the Ojibway chief.

"But our lives would be the forfeit," the Onondaga whispered back.

"I had no intention of doing it."

"Now they have passed us, and for the while we are safe. They will go on up
the lake, until they find no trace of us there, and then Tandakora will
come back."

"But how does he know we have a canoe?"

"He does not know it, but he feels sure of it because our trail led
straight to the lake, and we would not purposely come up against such a
barrier, unless we knew of a way to cross it."

"That sounds like good logic. Of course when they return they'll make a
much more thorough search of the lake's edge, and then they'd be likely to
find us if we remained here."

"It is so, but perhaps the night will come before Tandakora, and then we'll
take flight upon the lake."

They pushed their canoe back to the edge of the reeds, and watched the
Indian boats passing in single file northward, becoming smaller and smaller
until they almost blended with the water, but both knew they would return,
and in that lay their great danger. The afternoon was well advanced, but
the sun was very brilliant, and it was hot within the reeds. Great
quantities of wild fowl whirred about them and along the edges of the
lake.

"No warriors are in hiding near us," said Tayoga, "or the wild fowl would
fly away. We can feel sure that we have only Tandakora and his band to
fear."

Robert had never watched the sun with more impatience. It was already going
down the western arch, but it seemed to him to travel with incredible
slowness. Far in the north the Indian boats were mere black dots on the
water, but they were turning. Beyond a doubt Tandakora was now coming back.

"Suppose we go slowly south, still keeping in the shadow of the trees," he
said. "We can gain at least that much advantage."

Fortunately the scattered fringe of reeds and bushes, growing in the water,
extended far to the south, and they were able to keep in their protecting
shadow a full hour, although their rate of progress was not more than
one-third that of the Indians, who were coming without obstruction in open
water. Nevertheless, it was a distinct gain, and, meanwhile, they awaited
the coming of the night with the deepest anxiety. They recognized that
their fate turned upon a matter of a half hour or so. If only the night
would arrive before Tandakora! Robert glanced at the low sun, and, although
at all times, it was beautiful, he had never before prayed so earnestly
that it would go over the other side of the world, and leave their own side
to darkness.

The splendor of the great yellow star deepened as it sank. It poured
showers of rays upon the broad surface of the lake, and the silver of the
waters turned to orange and gold. Everything there was enlarged and made
more vivid, standing out twofold against the burning western background.
Nothing beyond the shadow could escape the observation of the Indians in
the boats, and they themselves in Robert's intense imagination changed from
a line of six light craft into a great fleet.

Nevertheless the sun, lingering as if it preferred their side of the world
to any other, was bound to go at last. The deep colors in the water faded.
The orange and gold changed back to silver, and the silver, in its turn,
gave way to gray, twilight began to draw a heavy veil over the east, and
Tayoga said in deep tones:

"Lo, the Sun God has decided that we may escape! He will let the night come
before Tandakora!"

Then the sun departed all at once, and the brilliant afterglow soon faded.
Night settled down, thick and dark, with the waters, ruffled by a light
wind, showing but dimly. The line of Tandakora became invisible, and the
two youths felt intense relief.

"Now we will start toward the northeastern end of the lake," said Tayoga.
"It will be wiser than to seek the shortest road across, because Tandakora
will think naturally that we have gone that way, and he will take it also."

"And it's paddling all night for us," said Robert "Well, I welcome it."

They were interrupted by the whirring of the wild fowl again, though on a
much greater scale than before. The twilight was filled with feathered
bodies. Tayoga, in an instant, was all attention.

"Something has frightened them," he said.

"Perhaps a bear or a deer," said Robert.

"I think not. They are used to wild animals, and would not be startled at
their approach. There is only one being that everything in the forest
generally fears."

"Man?"

"Even so, Dagaeoga."

"Perhaps we'd better pull in close to the bank and look."

"It would be wise."

Robert saw that the Onondaga, with his acute instincts, was deeply alarmed,
and he too felt that the wild fowl had given warning. They sent the canoe
with a few silent strokes through the shallow water almost to the edge of
the land, and, as it nearly struck bottom, two dusky figures rising among
the bushes threw their weight upon them. The light craft sank almost to the
edges with the weight, but did not overturn, and both attackers and
attacked fell out of it into the lake.

Robert for a moment saw a dusky face above him, and instinctively he
clasped the body of a warrior in his arms. Then the two went down together
in the water. The Indian was about to strike at him with a knife, but the
lake saved him. As the water rushed into eye, mouth and nostril the two
fell apart, but Robert was able to keep his presence of mind in that
terrible moment, and, as he came up again, he snatched out his own knife
and struck almost blindly.

He felt the blade encounter resistance, and then pass through it. He heard
a choked cry and he shuddered violently. All his instincts were for
civilization and against the taking of human life, and he had struck merely
to save his own, but almost articulate words of thankfulness bubbled to his
lips as he saw the dark figure that had hovered so mercilessly over him
disappear. Then a second figure took the place of the first and he drew
back the fatal blade again, but a soft voice said:

"Do not strike, Dagaeoga. I also have accounted for one of the warriors who
attacked us, and no more have yet come. We may thank the wild fowl. Had
they not warned us we should have perished."

"And even then we had luck, or your Tododaho is still watching over us. I
struck at random, but the blade was guided to its mark."

"And so was mine. What you say is also proved to be true by the fact that
the canoe did not overturn, when they threw themselves upon us. The chances
were at least ninety-nine out of a hundred that it would do so."

"And our arms and ammunition and our deer?"

"All in the canoe, except the weapons that are in our belts."

"Then, Tayoga, it is quite sure that your Tododaho has been watching over
us. But where is the canoe?"

Robert was filled with alarm and horror. They were standing above their
knees in the water, and they no longer saw the little craft, which had
become a veritable ship of refuge to them. They peered about frantically
in the dusk and then Tayoga said:

"There is a strong breeze blowing from the land and waves are beginning to
run on the water. They have taken the canoe out into the lake. We must swim
in search of it."

"And if we don't find it?"

"Then we drown, but O Dagaeoga, death in the water is better than death in
the fires that Tandakora will kindle."

"We might escape into the woods."

"Warriors who have come upon our trail are there, and would fall upon us at
once. The attack by the two who failed proves their presence."

"Then, Tayoga, we must take the perilous chance and swim for the canoe."

"It is so, Dagaeoga."

Both were splendid swimmers, even with their clothes on, and, wading out
until the water was above their waists, they began to swim with strong and
steady strokes toward the middle of the lake, following with exactness the
course of the wind. All the time they sought with anxious eyes through the
dusk for a darker shadow that might be the canoe. The wind rose rapidly,
and now and then the crest of a wave dashed over them. Less expert swimmers
would have sunk, but their muscles were hardened by years of forest
life--all Robert's strength had come back to him--and an immense vitality
made the love of life overwhelming in them. They fought with all the
powers of mind and body for the single chance of overtaking the canoe.

"I hope you see it, Tayoga," said Robert.

"Not yet," replied the Onondaga. "The darkness is heavy over the lake, and
the mists and vapors, rising from the water, increase it."

"It was a fine canoe, Tayoga, and it holds our rifles, our ammunition, our
deer, my buffalo robe, and all our precious belongings. We have to find
it."

"It is so, Dagaeoga. We have no other choice. We truly swim for life. One
could pray at this time to have all the powers of a great fish. Do you see
anything behind us?"

Robert twisted his head and looked over his shoulder.

"I see no pursuit," he replied. "I cannot even see the shore, as the mists
and vapors have settled down between. In a sense we're out at sea, Tayoga."

"And Ganoatohale is large. The canoe, too, is afloat upon its bosom and is,
as you say, out at sea. We and it must meet or we are lost. Are you weary,
Dagaeoga?"

"Not yet. I can still swim for quite a while."

"Then float a little, and we can take the exact course of the wind again.
The canoe, of course, will continue to go the way the wind goes."

"Unless it's deflected by currents which do not always follow the wind."

"I do not notice any current, and to follow the wind is our only hope. The
mists and vapors will hide the canoe from us until we are very close to it"

"And you may thank Tododaho that they will hide something else also.
Unless I make a great mistake, Tayoga, I hear the swish of paddles."

"You make no mistake, Dagaeoga. I too hear paddles, ten, a dozen, or more
of them. It is the fleet of Tandakora coming back and it will soon be
passing between us and the shore. Truly we may be thankful, as you say, for
the mists and vapors which, while they hide the canoe from us, also hide us
from our enemies."

"I shall lie flat upon my back and float, and I'll blend with the water."

"It is a wise plan, Dagaeoga. So shall I. Then Tandakora himself would not
see us, even if he passed within twenty feet of us."

"He is passing now, and I can see the outlines of their boats."

The two were silent as the fish themselves, sustained by imperceptible
strokes, and Robert saw the fleet of Tandakora pass in a ghostly line. They
looked unreal, a shadow following shadows, the huge figure of the Ojibway
chief in the first boat a shadow itself. Robert's blood chilled, and it was
not from the cold of the water. He was in a mystic and unreal world, but a
world in which danger pressed in on every side. He felt like one living
back in a primeval time. The swish of the paddles was doubled and tripled
by his imagination, and the canoes seemed to be almost on him.

The questing eyes of Tandakora and his warriors swept the waters as far as
the night, surcharged with mists and vapors, would allow, but they did not
see the two human figures, so near them and almost submerged in the lake.
The sound of the swishing paddles moved southward, and the line of ghostly
canoes melted again, one by one, into the darkness.

"They're gone, Tayoga," whispered Robert in a tone of immense relief.

"So they are, Dagaeoga, and they will seek us long elsewhere. Are you yet
weary?"

"I might be at another time, but with my life at stake I can't afford to
grow tired. Let us follow the wind once more."

They swam anew with powerful strokes, despite the long time they had been
in the water, and no sailors, dying of thirst, ever scanned the sea more
eagerly for a sail than they searched through the heavy dusk for their lost
canoe. The wind continued to rise, and the waves with it. Foam was often
dashed over their heads, the water grew cold to their bodies, now and then
they floated on their backs to rest themselves and thus the singular chase,
with the wind their only guide, was maintained.

Robert was the first to see a dim shape, but he would not say anything
until it grew in substance and solidity. Nevertheless hope flooded his
heart, and then he said:

"The wind has guided us aright, Tayoga. Unless some evil spirit has taught
my eyes to lie to me that is our canoe straight ahead."

"It has all the appearance of a canoe, Dagaeoga, and since the only canoe
on this part of the lake is our canoe, then our canoe it is."

"And none too soon. I'm not yet worn out, but the cold of the water is
entering my bones. I can see very clearly now that it's the canoe, our
canoe. It stands up like a ship, the strongest canoe, the finest canoe, the
friendliest canoe that ever floated on a lake or anywhere else. I can hear
it saying to us: 'I have been waiting for you. Why didn't you come
sooner?'"

"Truly when Dagaeoga is an old, old man, nearly a hundred, and the angel of
death comes for him, he will rise up in his bed and with the rounded words
pouring from his lips he will say to the angel: 'Let me make a speech only
an hour long and then I will go with you without trouble, else I stay here
and refuse to die.'"

"I'm using words to express my gratitude, Tayoga. Look, the canoe is moving
slowly toward the center of the lake, but it stays back as much as the wind
will let it and keeps beckoning to us. A few more long, swift strokes,
Tayoga, and we're beside it."

"Aye, Dagaeoga, and we must be careful how we climb into it. It is no light
task to board a canoe in the middle of a lake. Since Tododaho would not let
it be overturned, when we fell out of it, we must not overturn it ourselves
when we get back into it, else we lose all our arms, ammunition and other
supplies."

The canoe was now not more than fifty feet in front of them, moving
steadily farther and farther from land before the wind that blew out of the
west, but, sitting upright on the waters like a thing of life, bearing its
precious freight. The mists and vapors had closed in so much now that their
chance of seeing it had been only one in a thousand, and yet that lone
chance had happened. The devout soul of Tayoga was filled with gratitude.
Even while swimming he looked up at the great star that he could not see
beyond the thick veil of cloud, but, knowing it was there, he returned
thanks to the mighty Onondaga chieftain who had saved them so often.

"The canoe retreats before us, Dagaeoga," he said, "but it is not to escape
us, it is to beckon us on, out of the path of Tandakora's boats which soon
may be returning again and which will now come farther out into the lake,
thinking that we may possibly have made a dash under the cover of the
mists."

"What you predict is already coming true, Tayoga," said Robert, "because I
hear the first faint dip of their paddles once more, and they can't be more
than two hundred yards behind us."

The regular swishing grew louder and came closer, but the courage of the
two youths was still high. They had been drawn on so steadily by the canoe,
apparently in a predestined course, and they had been victors over so many
dangers, that they were confident the boats of Tandakora would pass once
more and leave them unseen.

"They're almost abreast of us now, Tayoga," said Robert.

"Aye, Dagaeoga," said the Onondaga, looking back. "They do not appear
through the mist and we hear only the paddles, but we know the threat is
there, and we can follow them as well with ear as with eye. They keep
straight on, going back toward the north. Nothing tells them we are here,
as our canoe beckons to us, nothing guides them to that for which they are
looking. Now the sound of their paddles becomes less, now it is faint and
now it is gone wholly. They have missed us once more! Let us summon up the
last of our strength and overtake the canoe."

They put all their energy into a final effort and presently drew up by the
side of the canoe. Tayoga steadied it with his hands while Robert was the
first to climb into it. The Onondaga followed and the two lay for a few
minutes exhausted on the bottom. Then Tayoga sat up and said in a full
voice:

"Lo, Dagaeoga, let us give thanks to Manitou for our wonderful escape,
because we have looked into the face of death."

Robert, awed by time and circumstance, shared fully the belief of Tayoga
that their escape was a miracle. His nature contained much that was devout
and spiritual and he, too, with his impressionable imagination, peopled
earth and air almost unconsciously with spirits, good and bad. The good and
bad often fought together, and sometimes the good prevailed as they had
just done. There lay in the canoe the paddles, which they had lifted out of
the water in their surprise at the sudden attack, and beside them were the
rifles and everything else they needed.

They were content to let the canoe travel its own course for a long time,
and that course was definite and certain, as if guided by the hand of man.
The wind always carried it toward the northeast and farther and farther
away from the fleet of Tandakora. But they took off their clothing, wrung
out as much water as they could, and wrapped themselves in the dry blankets
from their packs. Robert's spirits, stimulated by the reaction, bubbled up
in a wonderful manner.

"We'll see no more of Tandakora for a long time, at least," he exclaimed,
"and now, ho! for our wonderful voyage!"

They drew the wet charges from their pistols and reloaded them, they
polished anew their hatchets and knives and then, these tasks done, they
still sat for a long time in the canoe, idle and content. Their little boat
needed no help or guidance from their hands. That favoring wind always
carried it away from their enemies and in the direction in which they
wished it to go. And yet the wind did not blow away the mists and vapors,
that grew thicker and thicker around them, until they could not see twenty
feet away.

Robert's feeling that they were protected, his sense of the spiritual and
mystic, grew, and he saw that the mind of Tayoga was under the same spell.
The waters of the lake were friendly now. As they lapped around the canoe
they made a soothing sound, and the wind that guided and propelled them
sang a low but pleasant song.

"We are in the arms of Tododaho," said Tayoga in a reverential tone, "and
Hayowentha, the great Mohawk, also looks on and smiles. What need for us to
strive when the gods themselves take us in their keeping?"

Hours passed before they spoke again. They had been at the uttermost verge
of exhaustion when they climbed into the canoe, and perhaps physical
weakness had made their minds more receptive to the belief that they were
in hands mightier than their own, but even as strength came back the
conviction remained in all its primitive force. Warmth returned to their
bodies, wrapped in the blankets, and they felt an immense peace. Midnight
passed and the boat bore steadily on with its two silent occupants.




CHAPTER XII


THE MARVELOUS TRAILER

"Where are we, Tayoga?"

Robert stirred from a doze and the words were involuntary. He looked upon
water, covered with mists and vapors, and the driving wind was still behind
them.

"I know not, Dagaeoga," replied the Onondaga in devout tones. "I too have
dozed for a while, and awoke to find nothing changed. All I know is that we
are yet on the bosom of Ganoatohale, and that the west wind has borne us
on. I have always loved the west wind, Dagaeoga. Its breath is sweet on my
face. It comes from the setting sun, from the greatest of all seas that
lies beyond our continent, it blows over the vast unknown plains that are
trodden by the buffalo in myriads, it comes across the mighty forests of
the great valley, it is loaded with all the odors and perfumes of our
immense land, and now it carries us, too, to safety."

"You talk in hexameters, Tayoga, but I think your rhapsody is justified. I
also have plenty of cause now to love the west wind. How long do you think
it will be until we feel the dawn on our faces?"

"Two hours, perhaps, but we may reach land before then. While I cannot
smell the dawn I seem to perceive the odor of the forest. Now it grows
stronger, and lo, Dagaeoga, there is another sign! Do you not notice it?"

"No, what is it?"

"The west wind that has served us so well is dying. _Gaoh_, which in
our language of the Hodenosaunee is the spirit of the winds, knows that we
need it no more. Surely the land is near because _Gaoh_ after being a
benevolent spirit to us so long would not desert us at the last moment."

"I think you must be right, Tayoga, because now I also notice the strong,
keen perfume of the woods, and our west wind has sunk to almost nothing."

"Nay, Dagaeoga, it is more than that. It has died wholly. _Gaoh_
tells us that having brought us so near the land we can now fend for
ourselves."

The air became absolutely still, the swell ceased, the surface of the lake
became as smooth as glass, and, as if swept back by a mighty, unseen hand,
the mists and vapors suddenly floated away toward the east. Tayoga and
Robert uttered cries of admiration and gratitude, as a high, green shore
appeared, veiled but not hidden in the dusk.

"So Tododaho has brought us safely across the waters of Ganoatohale," said
the Onondaga.

"Have you any idea of the point to which we have come?" asked Robert.

"No, but it is sufficient that we have come to the shore anywhere. And see,
Dagaeoga, the mists and vapors still hang heavily over the western half of
the lake, forming an impenetrable wall that shuts us off from Tandakora
and his warriors. Truly we are for the time the favorites of the gods."

"Even so, Tayoga, you see, too, that we have come to land just where a
little river empties into the lake, and we can go on up it."

They paddled with vigorous arms into the mouth of the stream, and did not
stop until the day came. It was a beautiful little river, the massed
vegetation growing in walls of green to the very water's edge, the songs of
innumerable birds coming out of the cool gloom on either side. Robert was
enchanted. His spirits were still at the high key to which they had been
raised by the events of the night. Both he and Tayoga had enjoyed many
hours of rest in the canoe, and now they were keen and strong for the day's
work. So, it was long after dawn when they stopped paddling, and pushed
their prow into a little cove.

"And now," said Robert, "I think we can land, dress, and cook some of this
precious deer, which we have brought with us in spite of everything."

Their clothing had been dried by the sun, and they resumed it. Then, taking
all risks, they lighted a fire, broiled tender steaks and ate like giants
who had finished great labors.

"I think," said Tayoga, "that when we proceed a few miles farther it will
be better to leave the canoe. It is likely that as we advance the river
will become narrower, and we would be an easy target for a shot from the
bank."

"I don't like to abandon a canoe which has brought us safely across the
lake."

"We will put it away where it can await our coming another time. But I
think we can dare the river for some distance yet."

Robert had spoken for the sake of precaution, and he was easily persuaded
to continue in the river some miles, as traveling by canoe was pleasant,
and after their miraculous escape or rather rescue, as it seemed to them,
their spirits, already high, were steadily rising higher. The lone little
river of the north, on which they were traveling, presented a spectacle of
uncommon beauty. Its waters flowed in a clear, silver stream down to the
lake, deeper in tint on the still reaches, and, flashing in the sunlight,
where it rushed over the shallows.

All the time they moved between two lofty, green walls, the forest growing
so densely on either shore that they could not see back into it more than
fifty yards, while the green along its lower edges was dotted with pink and
blue and red, where the delicate wild flowers were blooming. The birds in
the odorous depths of the foliage sang incessantly, and Robert had never
before heard them sing so sweetly.

"I don't think any of our foes can be in ambush along the river," he said.
"It's too peaceful and the birds sing with too much enthusiasm. You
remember how they warned us of danger once by all going away?"

"True, Dagaeoga, and at any time now they may leave. But, like you, I am
willing to take the risk for several hours more. Most of the warriors must
be far south of us unless the rangers are in this region, and a special
force has been sent to meet them."

They came by and by to a long stretch of rippling shallows, and they were
compelled to carry the canoe with its load through the woods and around
them, the task, owing to the density of the forest and thicket and the
weight of their burden, straining their muscles and drawing perspiration
from their faces. But they took consolation from the fact that game was
amazingly plentiful. Deer sprang up everywhere, and twice they caught
glimpses of bears shambling away. Squirrels chattered over their heads and
the little people of the forest rustled all about them.

"It shows that no human being has been through here recently," said Tayoga,
"else the game, big and little, would not have been stirring abroad with so
much confidence."

"Then as soon as we make the portage we can return to the river with the
canoe."

"Dagaeoga grows lazy. Does he not know that to do the hard thing
strengthens both mind and body? Has he forgotten what Mynheer Jacobus
Huysman told us so often in Albany? Now is a splendid opportunity for
Dagaeoga to harden himself a great deal."

"I realize it, Tayoga, but I don't want my mind and body to grow too hard.
When one is all steel one ceases to be receptive. Can you see the river
through the trees there?"

"I catch the glitter of sunlight on the water."

"I hope it looks like deep water."

"It is sufficient to float the canoe and the lazy Dagaeoga can take to his
paddle again."

They put their boat back into the stream, uttering great sighs of relief,
and resumed the far more pleasant travel by water, the day remaining golden
as if doing its best to please them. They had another long stretch of good
water, and they did not stop until they were well into the afternoon. Then
Tayoga proposed that they make a fire and cook all of the deer.

"It seems that the risk here is not great," he said, "and we may not have
the chance later on."

Robert, who still felt that they were protected and that for a day or two
no harm could come to them under any circumstances, was more than willing,
and they spent the remainder of the day in their culinary task. After dark
he slept three hours, to be followed by Tayoga for the same length of time,
and about midnight they started up the stream again, with their food cooked
and ready beside them.

Although the Onondaga shared Robert's feeling that they were protected for
the time, both exercised all their usual caution, believing thoroughly in
the old saying that heaven helps those who help themselves. It was this
watchfulness, particularly of ear, that caused them to hear the dip of
paddles approaching up the stream. Softly and in silence, they lifted the
canoe out of water and hid with it in the greenwood. Then they saw a fleet
of eight large canoes go by, all containing warriors, armed heavily and in
full war paint.

"Hurons," whispered Tayoga. "They go south for a great taking of scalps,
doubtless to join Montcalm, who is surely meditating another sudden and
terrible blow."

"And he will strike at our forts by Andiatarocte," rejoined Robert. "I hope
we can find Willet and Rogers soon and take the news. All the woods must be
full of warriors going south to Montcalm."

"They have French guns, and good ones too, and they are wrapped in French
blankets. Onontio does not forget the power of the warriors and draws them
to him."

The silent file of war canoes passed on and out of sight, and, for a space,
Robert's heart was heavy within him. He felt the call of battle, he ought
to be in the south, giving what he could to the defense against the might
of Montcalm, but to go now would be merely a dash in the dark. They must
continue to seek Willet and Rogers.

When the last Indian canoe was far beyond hearing they relaunched their own
and paddled until nearly daybreak, coming to a place where bushes and tall
grass grew thick in the shallow water at the edge of the river.

"Here," said Tayoga, "we will leave the canoe. A good hiding place offers
itself, and with the dawn it will be time for us to take to the woods."

They concealed with great art the little boat that had served them so well,
sinking it in the heart of the densest growth and then drawing back the
bushes and weeds so skillfully that the keenest Indian eye would not have
noticed that anyone had ever been there.

"I hope," said Robert sincerely, "that we'll have the chance to return
here some time or other and use it again."

"That rests in the keeping of Manitou," said the Onondaga, "and now we will
take up our packs and go eastward toward Oneadatote."

"But we won't go fast, because my pack, with all this venison in it, is by
no means light."

"It is no heavier than mine, Dagaeoga, but, as you say, we will not hasten,
lest we pass the Great Bear and the Mountain Wolf in the forest and not
know it. But I think we are safe in going toward Oneadatote, as Rogers and
his rangers usually operate in the region of George and Champlain."

They traveled two days and two nights and came once more among the high
ridges and peaks. They saw many Indian trails and always they watched for
another. On the third day Tayoga discovered traces in moss and he said with
great satisfaction to his comrade:

"Lo, Dagaeoga, we, too, be wise in our time. The print here speaks to me
like the print on the page of a book. It says that the Great Bear has
passed this way."

"I can tell that the traces were made by the feet of a white man," said
Robert, "but how do you know they are Dave's?"

"I have noticed that the Great Bear's feet are more slender than the
average. Also he bears less upon the heel. He poises himself more upon the
toe, like the great swordsman we saw him to be that time in Quebec."

"The distinctions are too fine for me, Tayoga, but I don't question your
own powers of observation. I accept your statement with gratitude and joy,
too, because now we know that Dave is alive, and somewhere in the great
northern forest of the Province of New York. I knew he could not be dead,
but it's a relief anyhow to have the proof. But as I see no other traces,
how is it, do you think, that he happens to be alone?"

"The Great Bear may have been making a little scout by himself. I still
think that he is with Rogers and the rangers, and when we follow his trail
we are likely to find soon that he has rejoined them."

The traces led north and east until they came to rocky ground, where they
were lost, and Tayoga assumed from the fact that they were several days
old, otherwise he could have made them out even in the more difficult
region. But when the path, despite all his searching, vanished in the air,
he began to look higher than the earth. Soon he smiled and said:

"Ah, the Great Bear is as wise as the fox and the serpent combined. He
knows that a little chance may lead to great results, and so he neglects
none of the little chances."

"I don't understand you," said Robert, puzzled.

The Onondaga bent over a bush and showed where a twig had been cut off.

"See the wound made by his knife," he said, "and look! here is another on a
bush farther on. Both wounds are partly healed, showing that the cut of the
knife was made several days ago. It occurred to the Great Bear that we
might strike his trail some time or other, and when he came to the stony
uplift upon which his moccasins would leave no sign, he made traces
elsewhere. He knew the chance of our ever seeing them was slight, and he
may have made thousands of other traces that we never will see, but the
possibility that we would see some one of the many became a probability."

"As you present it, it seems simple, Tayoga, but what an infinity of pains
he must have taken!"

"The Great Bear is that kind of a man."

The hard, rocky ground extended several miles and their progress over it
was, of necessity, very slow, as Tayoga was compelled to look with extreme
care for the signs the hunter might have left. He found the cut twigs five
times and twice footprints where softer soil existed between the rocks,
making the proofs conclusive to both, and when they emerged into a normal
region beyond they picked up his defined and clear trail once more.

"I shall be glad to see the Great Bear," said the Onondaga, "and I think he
will be as pleased to know certainly that we are alive as we are to be
assured that he is."

"He'd never desert us, and if you hadn't come to the Indian village I think
he'd have done so later on."

"The Great Bear is a man such as few men are. Now, his trail leads on,
straight and bold. He took no trouble to hide it, which proves that he had
friends in this region, and was not afraid to be followed. Here he sat on a
fallen log and rested a while."

"How do you know that, Tayoga?"

"See the prints in front of the log. They were made by the heels of his
moccasins only. He tilted his feet up until they rested merely on the
heels. The Great Bear could not have been in that attitude while standing.
Nay, there is more. The Great Bear sat down here not to rest but to think."

"It's just supposition with you, Tayoga."

"It is not supposition at all, Dagaeoga, it is certainty. Look, several
little pieces of the bark on the dead log where the Great Bear sat, are
picked off. Here are the places from which they were taken, and here are
the fragments themselves lying on the ground. The Great Bear must have been
thinking very hard and he must have been in great doubt to have had uneasy
hands, because, as you and I know, Dagaeoga, his mind and nerves are of the
calmest."

"What, then, do you think was on his mind?"

"He was undecided whether to go on towards Oneadatote or to turn back and
seek us anew. Here are three or four traces, a short and detached trail
leading in the direction from which we have come. Then the traces suddenly
turn. He sat down again and thought it over a second time."

"You can't possibly know that he resumed his seat on the log!"

"Oh, yes, I can, Dagaeoga. I wish all that we had to see was as easy,
because here is the second place on the log where he picked at the bark.
Mighty as the Great Bear is he cannot sit in two places at once. Not
Tododaho himself could do that."

"It's conclusive, and I find here at the end of the log his trail, leading
on toward the east."

"And he went fast, because the distance between his footprints lengthens.
But he did not do so long. He became very slow suddenly. The space between
the footprints shortens all at once. He turned aside, too, from his course,
and crept through the bushes toward the south."

"How do you know that he crept?"

"Because for many steps he rested his weight wholly on his toes. The traces
show it very clearly. The Great Bear was stalking something, and it was not
a foe."

"That, at least, is supposition, Tayoga."

"Not supposition, Dagaeoga, and while not absolute certainty it is a great
probability. The toeprints lead straight toward the tiny little lake that
you see shining through the foliage. It was game and not a foe that the
Great Bear was seeking. He wished to shoot a wild fowl. Look, the edge of
the lake here is low, and the tender water grasses grow to a distance of
several yards from the shore. It is just the place where wild ducks or wild
geese would be found, and the Great Bear secured the one he wanted. If you
will look closely, Dagaeoga, you will see the faint trace of blood on the
grass. Blood lasts a long time. Manitou has willed that it should be so,
because it is the life fluid of his creatures. It was a wild goose that the
Great Bear shot."

"And why not a wild duck?"

"Because here are two of the feathers, and even Dagaeoga knows they are
the feathers of a goose and not of a duck. It was, too, the fattest goose
in the flock."

"Which you have no possible way of knowing, Tayoga."

"But I do, Dagaeoga. It was the fattest goose of the flock, because the
fattest goose of the flock was the one that so wise and skillful a hunter
as the Great Bear would, as a matter of course, select and kill. Learn, O,
Dagaeoga, to trail with your mind as well as with your eye, and ear. The
day may come when the white man will equal the red man in intellect, but it
is yet far off. The Great Bear was very, very hungry, and we shall soon
reach the place where he cleaned and cooked his goose."

"Come, come, Tayoga! You may draw good conclusions from what you see, but
there are no prophets nowadays. You don't know anything about the state of
Dave's appetite, when he shot that goose, and you can't predict with
certainty that we'll soon come to the place where he made it ready for the
eating."

"I cannot, Dagaeoga! Why, I am doing it this very instant. Mind! Mind! Did
I not tell you to use your mind? O, Dagaeoga, when will you learn the
simpler things of life? The Great Bear would not have risked a shot at a
wild goose in enemy country, if he had not been very hungry. Otherwise he
would have waited until he rejoined the rangers to obtain food. And, having
risked his shot, and having obtained his goose, which was the fattest in
the flock, he became hungrier than ever. And having risked so much he was
willing to risk more in order to complete the task he had undertaken,
without which the other risks that he had run would have been all in vain."

"Tayoga, I can almost believe that you have your dictionary with you in
your knapsack."

"Not in my knapsack, Dagaeoga, but in my head, where yours also ought to
be. Ah, here is where the Great Bear began to make preparations to cook his
goose! His trail wanders back and forth. He was looking for fallen wood to
build the fire. And there, in the little sink between the hills, was where
he built it. Even you, Dagaeoga, can see the ashes and burnt ends of
sticks. The Great Bear must have been as hungry as a wolf to have eaten a
whole goose, and the fattest goose of the flock, too. How do I know he ate
it all? Look in the grass and leaves and you will find enough bones to make
the complete frame of a goose, and every bone is picked clean. Wild animals
might have gleaned on them, you say? No. Here is the trail of a wolf that
came to the dip after the Great Bear had gone, drawn by the savory odors,
but he turned back. He never really entered the dip. Why? When he stood at
the edge his acute and delicate senses told him no meat was left on the
bones, and a wolf neither makes idle exertion, nor takes foolish risk. He
went back at once. And if the wolf had not come, there is another reason
why I knew the Great Bear ate all the goose. He would not have thrown away
any of the bones with flesh still on them. He is too wise a man to waste.
He would have taken with him what was left of the goose. Having finished
his most excellent dinner, the Great Bear looked for a brook."

"Why a brook?"

"Because he was thirsty. Everyone is thirsty after a heavy meal. He turned
to the right, as the ground slopes down in that direction. Even you,
Dagaeoga, know that one is more likely to find a brook in a valley than on
a hilltop. Here is the brook, a fine, clear little stream with a sandy
bottom, and here is where the Great Bear knelt and drank of the cool water.
The prints of his strong knees show like carving on a wall. Finding that he
was still thirsty he came back for another drink, because the second prints
are a little distance from the first.

"Then, after rejoicing over the tender goose and his renewed strength, he
suddenly became very cautious. The danger from the warriors, which he had
forgotten or overlooked in his hunger, returned in acute form to his mind.
He came to the brook a third time, but not to drink. He intended to wade in
the stream that he might hide his trail, which, as you well know, Dagaeoga,
is the oldest and best of all forest devices for such purposes. How many
millions of times must the people of the wilderness have used it!

"Now the Great Bear had two ways to go in the water, up the stream or down
the stream, and you and I, Dagaeoga, think he went down the stream, because
the current leads on the whole eastward, which was the way in which he
wished to go. At least, we will choose that direction and I will take one
side of the bank and you the other."

They followed the brook more than a mile with questing eyes, and Tayoga
detected the point at which Willet had emerged, plunging anew into the
forest.

"Warriors, if they had picked up his trail, could have followed the brook
as we did," said Robert.

"Of course," said Tayoga, "but the object of the Great Bear was not so much
to hide his flight as to gain time. While we went slowly, looking for the
emergence of his trail, he went fast. Now I think he meant to spend the
night in the woods alone. The rangers must still have been far away. If
they had been near he would not have felt the need of throwing off possible
pursuit."

They followed the dim traces several hours, and then Tayoga announced with
certainty that the hunter had slept alone in the forest, wrapped in his
blanket.

"He crept into this dense clump of bushes," he said, "and lay within their
heart, sheltered and hidden by them. You, Dagaeoga, can see where his
weight has pressed them down. Why, here is the outline of a human body
almost as clear and distinct as if it were drawn with black ink upon white
paper! And the Great Bear slept well, too. The bushes are not broken or
shoved aside except in the space merely wide enough to contain his frame.
Perhaps the goose was so very tender and his nerves and tissues had craved
it so much that they were supremely happy when he gave it to them. That is
why they rested so well.

"In the morning the Great Bear resumed his journey toward the east. He had
no breakfast and doubtless he wished for another goose, but he was
refreshed and he was very strong. The traces are fainter than they were,
because the Great Bear was so vigorous that his feet almost spurned the
earth."

"Don't you think, Tayoga, that he'll soon turn aside again to hunt? So
strong a man as Dave won't go long without food, especially when the forest
is full of it. We've noticed everywhere that the war has caused the game to
increase greatly in numbers."

"It will depend upon the position of the force to which the Great Bear
belongs. If it is near he will not seek game, waiting for food until he
rejoins the rangers, but if they are distant he will look for a deer or
another goose, or maybe a duck. But by following we will see what he did.
It cannot be hidden from us. The forest has few secrets from those who are
born in it. Ah, what is this? The Great Bear hid in a bush, and he leaped
suddenly! Behold the distance between the footprints! He saw something that
alarmed him. It may have been a war party passing, and of which he suddenly
caught sight. If so we can soon tell."

A hundred yards beyond the clump of bushes they found a broad trail,
indicating that at least twenty warriors had gone by, their line of march
leading toward the southeast.

"They were in no hurry," said the Onondaga, "as they had no fear of
enemies. Their steps are irregular, showing that sometimes they stopped and
talked. Doubtless they meant to join Montcalm, but as they can travel much
faster than an army they were taking their time about it. We will now
return to the bushes in which the Great Bear lay hidden while he watched.
The traces of his footsteps in the heart of the clump are much deeper than
usual, which proves that he stood there quite a while. It is also another
proof that the warriors stopped and talked when they were near him, else he
would not have remained in the clump so long. It is likely, too, that the
Great Bear followed them when they resumed their journey. Yes, here is his
trail leading from the bushes. But it is faint, the Great Bear was stepping
lightly and here is where it merges with the trail of the warriors. He
could not have been more than three or four hundred yards behind them. The
Great Bear was very bold, or else they were very careless. He will not
follow them long, as he merely wishes to get a general idea of their
course, it being his main object to rejoin the rangers."

"And at this point he turned away from their trail," said Robert, after
they had followed it about a mile. "He is now going due east, and his
traces lead on so straight that he must have known exactly where he
intended to go."

"Stated with much correctness," said Tayoga in his precise school English.
"Dagaeoga is taking to heart my assertion that the mind is intended for
human use, and he is beginning to think a little. But we shall have to stop
soon for a while, because the night comes. We, too, will sleep in the heart
of the bushes as the Great Bear did."

"And glad am I to stop," said Robert. "My burden of buffalo robe and deer
and arms and ammunition is beginning to weigh on me. A buffalo robe doesn't
seem of much use on a warm, summer day, but it is such a fine one and you
took so much trouble to get it for me, Tayoga, that I haven't had the heart
to abandon it."

"It is well that you have brought it, in spite of its weight," said the
Onondaga, "as the night, at this height, is sure to be cold, and the robe
will envelop you in its warmth. See, the dark comes fast."

The sun sank behind the forest, and the twilight advanced, the deeper dusk
following in its trail, a cold wind began to blow out of the north, and
Robert, as Tayoga had predicted, was thankful now that he had retained the
buffalo robe, despite its weight. He wrapped it around his body and sat on
a blanket in a thicket. Tayoga, by his side, used his two blankets in a
similar manner, and they ate of the deer which they had had the forethought
to cook, and make ready for all times.

The dusk deepened into the thick dark, and the night grew colder, but they
were warm and at ease. Robert was full of courage and hope. The elements
and all things had served them so much that he was quite sure they would
succeed in everything they undertook. By and by, he stretched himself on
the blanket, and clothed from head to foot in the great robe he slept the
deep sleep of one who had toiled hard and well. An hour later Tayoga also
slept, but in another hour he awoke and sat up, listening with all the
marvelous powers of hearing that nature and cultivation had given him.

Something was stirring in the thicket, not any of the wild animals, big or
little, but a human being, and Tayoga knew the chances were a hundred to
one that it was a hostile human being. He put his ear to the earth and the
sound came more clearly. Now his wonderful gifts of intuition and forest
reasoning told him what it was. Slowly he rose again, cleared himself of
the blankets, and put his rifle upon them. Then, loosening the pistol in
his belt, but drawing his long hunting knife, he crept from the thicket.

Tayoga, despite his thorough white education and his constant association
with white comrades, was always an Indian first. Now, as he stole from the
thicket in the dark, knife in hand, he was the very quintessence of a great
warrior of the clan of the Bear, of the nation Onondaga, of the great
League of the Hodenosaunee. He was what his ancestors had been for
unnumbered generations, a primeval son of the wilderness, seeking the life
of the enemy who came seeking his.

He kept to his hands and knees, and made no sound as he advanced, but at
intervals he dropped his ear to the ground, and heard the faint rustling
that was drawing nearer. He decided that it was a single warrior who by
some chance had struck their trail in the dusk, and who, with minute pains
and with slowness but certainty, was following it.

His course took him about thirty yards among the bushes and then through
high grass growing luxuriantly in the open. In the grass his eye also
helped him, because at a point straight ahead the tall stems were moving
slightly in a direction opposed to the wind. He took the knife in his teeth
and went on, sure that bold means would be best.

The stalking warrior who in his turn was stalked did not hear him until he
was near, and then, startled, he sprang to his feet, knife in hand. Tayoga
snatched his own from his teeth and stood erect facing him. The warrior, a
Huron, was the heavier though not the taller of the two, and recognizing an
enemy, a hated Iroquois, he stared fiercely into the eyes that were so
close to his. Then he struck, but, agile as a panther, Tayoga leaped aside,
and the next instant his own blade went home. The Huron sank down without a
sound, and the Onondaga stood over him, the spirit of his ancestors
swelling in fierce triumph.

But the feeling soon died in the heart of Tayoga. His second nature, which
was that of his white training and association, prevailed. He was sorry
that he had been compelled to take life, and, dragging the heavy body much
farther away, he hid it in the bushes. Then, making a circle through the
forest to assure himself that no other enemies were near, he went swiftly
back to the thicket and lay down again between his blankets. He had a
curious feeling that he did not want Robert to know what had happened.

Tayoga remained awake the remainder of the night, and, although he did not
stir again from the thicket, he kept a vigilant watch. He would hear any
sound within a hundred yards and he would know what it was, but there was
none save the rustlings of the little animals, and dawn came, peaceful and
clear. Robert moved, threw off the buffalo robe and stood up among the
bushes.

"A big sleep and a fine sleep, Tayoga," he said.

"It was a good time for Dagaeoga to sleep," said the Onondaga.

"I was warm, and your Tododaho watched over me."

"Aye, Dagaeoga, Tododaho was watching well last night."

"And you slept well, too, Tayoga?"

"I slept as I should, Dagaeoga. No man can ask more."

"Philosophical and true. It's breakfast now, slices of deer, and water of a
brook. Deer is good, Tayoga, but I'm beginning to find I could do without
it for quite a long time. I envy Dave the fat goose he had, and I don't
wonder that he ate it all at one time. Maybe we could find a juicy goose or
duck this morning."

"But we have the deer and the Great Bear had nothing when he sought the
goose. We will even make the best of what we have, and take no risk."

"It was merely a happy thought of mine, and I didn't expect it to be
accepted. My happiest thoughts are approved by myself alone, and so I'll
keep 'em to myself. My second-rate thoughts are for others, over the heads
of whom they will not pass."

"Dagaeoga is in a good humor this morning."

"It is because I slept so well last night. Now, having had a sufficiency of
the deer I shall seek a brook. I'm pretty sure to find one in the low
ground over there."

He started to the right, but Tayoga immediately suggested that he go to
the left--the hidden body of the warrior lay in the bushes on the
right--and Robert, never dreaming of the reason, tried the left where he
found plenty of good water. Tayoga also drank, and with some regret they
left the lair in the bushes.

"It was a good house," said Robert. "It lacked only walls, a roof and a
floor, and it had an abundance of fresh air. I've known worse homes for the
night."

"Take up your buffalo robe again," said the Onondaga, "because when another
night comes you will need it as before."

They shouldered their heavy burdens and resumed the trail of the hunter,
expecting that it would soon show a divergence from its straight course.

"The rangers seem to be farther away than we thought," said Tayoga, "and
the Great Bear must eat. One goose, however pleasant the memory, will not
last forever. It is likely that he will turn aside again to one of the
little lakes or ponds that are so numerous in this region."

In two hours they found that he had done so, and this time his victim was a
duck, as the feathers showed. They saw the ashes where he had cooked it,
and as before only the bones were left. Evidently he had lingered there
some time, as Tayoga announced a distinctly fresher trail, indicating that
they were gaining upon him fast, and they increased their own speed, hoping
that they would soon overtake him.

But the traces led on all day, and the next morning, after another night
spent in the thickets, Tayoga said that the Great Bear was still far
ahead, and it was possible they might not overtake him until they
approached the shores of Champlain.

"But if necessary we'll follow him there, won't we, Tayoga?" said Robert.

"To Oneadatote and beyond, if need be," said the Onondaga with confidence.




CHAPTER XIII


READING THE SIGNS

On the third day the trail of the Great Bear was well among the ranges and
Tayoga calculated that they could not be many hours behind him, but all the
evidence, as they saw it, showed conclusively that he was going toward Lake
Champlain.

"It seems likely to me," said the Onondaga, "that he left the rangers to
seek us, and that Rogers meanwhile would move eastward. Having learned in
some way or other that he could not find us, he will now follow the rangers
wherever they may go."

"And we will follow him wherever he goes," said Robert.

An hour later the Onondaga uttered an exclamation, and pointed to the
trail. Another man coming from the south had joined Willet. The traces were
quite distinct in the grass, and it was also evident from the character of
the footsteps that the stranger was white.

"A wandering hunter or trapper? A chance meeting?" said Robert.

Tayoga shook his head.

"Then a ranger who was out on a scout, and the two are going on together to
join Rogers?"

"Wrong in both cases," he said. "I know who joined the Great Bear, as well
as if I saw him standing there in the footprints he has made. It was not a
wandering hunter and it was not a ranger. You will notice, Dagaeoga, that
these traces are uncommonly large. They are not slender like the footprints
of the Great Bear, but broad as well as long. Why, I should know anywhere
in the world what feet made them. Think, Dagaeoga!"

"I don't seem to recall."

"Willet is a great hunter and scout, among the bravest of men, skillful on
the trail, and terrible in battle, but the man who is now with him is all
these also. A band attacking the two would have no easy task to conquer
them. You have seen both on the trail in the forest and you have seen both
in battle. Try hard to think, Dagaeoga!"

"Black Rifle!"

"None other. It is far north for him, but he has come, and he and the Great
Bear were glad to see each other. Here they stood and shook hands."

"There is not a possible sign to indicate such a thing."

"Only the certain rules of logic. Once again I bid you use your mind. We
see with it oftener than with the eye. White men, when they are good
friends and meet after a long absence, always shake hands. So my mind tells
me with absolute certainty that the Great Bear and Black Rifle did so. Then
they talked together a while. Now the eye tells me, because here are
footsteps in a little group that says so, and then they walked on,
fearless of attack. It is an easy trail to follow."

He announced in a half hour that they were about to enter an old camp of
the two men.

"Any child of the Hodenosaunee could tell that it is so," he said, "because
their trails now separate. Black Rifle turns off to the right, and the
Great Bear goes to the left. We will follow Black Rifle first. He wandered
about apparently in aimless fashion, but he had a purpose nevertheless. He
was looking for firewood. We need not follow the trail of the Great Bear,
because his object was surely the same. They were so confident of their
united strength that they built a fire to cook food and take away the
coldness of the night. Although Great Bear had no food it was not necessary
for him to hunt, because Black Rifle had enough for both. The fact that the
Great Bear did not go away in search of game proves it.

"I think we will find the remains of their fire just beyond the low hill on
the crest of which the bushes grow so thick. Once more it is mind and not
eye that tells me so, Dagaeoga. They would build a fire near because they
had begun to look for firewood, which is always plentiful in the forest,
and they would surely choose the dip which lies beyond the hill, because
the circling ridge with its frieze of bushes would hide the flames.
Although sure of their strength they did not neglect caution."

They passed over the hill, and found the dead embers of the fire.

"After they had built it Black Rifle sat on that side and the Great Bear
on this," said Tayoga, "and while they were getting it ready the Great Bear
concluded to add something on his own account to the supper."

"What do you mean, Tayoga? Is this mind or eye?"

"A combination of the two. The Great Bear is a wonderful marksman, as we
know, and while sitting on the log that he had drawn up before the fire, he
shot his game out of the tall oak on our right."

"This is neither eye nor mind, Tayoga, it is just fancy."

"No, Dagaeoga, it is mostly eye, though helped by mind. My conclusion that
he was sitting, when he pulled the trigger is mind chiefly. He would not
have drawn up the log unless he had been ready to sit down, and everything
was complete for the supper. The Great Bear never rests until his work is
done, and he is so marvelous with the rifle that it was not necessary for
him to rise when he fired. Wilderness life demands so much of the body that
the Great Bear never makes needless exertion. There mind works, Dagaeoga,
but the rest is all eye. The squirrel was on the curved bough of the oak,
the one that projects toward the north."

"You assume a good deal to say that it was a squirrel and surely mind not
eye would select the particular bough on which he sat."

"No, Dagaeoga, eye served the whole purpose. All the other branches are
almost smothered in leaves, but the curved one is nearly bare. It is only
there that the casual glance of the Great Bear, who was not at that time
seeking game, would have caught sight of the squirrel. Also, he must have
been there, otherwise his body could not have fallen directly beneath it,
when the bullet went through his head."

"Now tell me how your eye knows his body fell from the bough."

"Ah, Dagaeoga! Your eye was given to you for use as mine was given to me,
then you should use it; in the forest you are lost unless you do. It was my
eye that saw the unmistakable sign, the sign from which all the rest
followed. Look closely and you will detect a little spot of red on the
grass just beneath the bare bough. It was blood from the squirrel."

"You cannot be sure that it was a squirrel. It might have been a pigeon or
some other bird."

"That, O, Dagaeoga, would be the easiest of all, even for you, if you could
only use your eyes, as I bid you. Almost at your feet lies a slender bone
that cannot be anything but the backbone of a squirrel. Beyond it are two
other bones, which came from the same body. We know as certainly that it
was a squirrel as we know that the Great Bear ate first a wild goose, and
then a wild duck. But it is a good camp that those two great men made, and,
as the night is coming, we will occupy it."

They relighted the abandoned fire, warmed their food and ate, and Robert
was once more devoutly glad that he had kept the heavy buffalo robe. Deep
fog came over the mountain soon after dark, and, after a while, a fine
cold, and penetrating rain was shed from the heart of it. They kept the
fire burning and wrapped, Tayoga in his blankets, and, Robert in the robe,
crouched before it. Then they drew the logs that the Great Bear and Black
Rifle had left, in such position that they could lean their backs against
them, and slept, though not the two at the same time. They agreed that it
was wise to keep watch and Robert was sentinel first.

Tayoga, supported by the log, slept soundly, the flames illuminating his
bronze face and showing the very highest type of the Indian. Robert sat
opposite, his rifle across his knees, but covered by his blanket to protect
it from the fine rain, which was not only cold but insidious, trying to
insert itself beneath his clothing and chill his body. But he kept himself
covered so well that none reached him, and the very wildness of his
surroundings increased his sense of intense physical comfort.

He did not stir, except now and then to put a fresh chunk of wood on the
fire, and the red blaze between Tayoga and himself was for a time the
center of the world. The cold, white fog was rolling up everywhere thick
and impenetrable, and the fine rain, like a heavy dew that was distilled
from it, fell incessantly. Robert knew that it was moving up the valleys
and clothing all the peaks and ridges. He knew, too, that it would hide
them from their enemies and his sense of comfort grew with the knowledge.
But his conviction that they were safe did not make him relax caution, and,
since eye was useless in the fog, he made extreme call upon ear.

It seemed to him that the fog was a splendid conductor of sound. It brought
him the rustling of the foliage, the moaning of the light wind through the
ravines, and, at last, another sound, sharp, distinct, a discordant note in
the natural noises of the wilderness, which were always uniform and
harmonious. He heard it a second time, to his right, down the hill, and he
was quite sure that it indicated the presence of man, man who in reality
was near, but whom the fog took far away. The vapors, however, would lift,
then man might come close, and he felt that it was his part to discover who
and what he was.

Still wrapped in the buffalo robe, he rose and took a few steps from the
fire. Tayoga did not stir, and he was proud that his tread had been without
noise. Beyond the rim of firelight, he paused and listening again heard the
clank twice, not very loud but coming sharp and definite as before through
the vapory air. He parted the bushes very carefully and went down the side
of a ravine, the wet boughs and twigs making no noise as they closed up
after his passage.

But his progress was very slow, purposely so, as he knew that any mistake
or accident might be fatal, and he intended that no fault of his should
precipitate such a crisis. Once or twice he thought of going back, deeming
his a foolish quest, lost in a wilderness of bushes and blinding fog, but
the sharp, clear clank stirred his purpose anew, and he went on down the
slope, until he saw a red glow in the heart of the fog. Then he sank down
among the bushes and listened with intentness. Presently the faint hum of
voices came to his ear, and he was quite sure that many men were not far
away.

He resumed his slow advance, but now he was glad the bushes were soaked
with water, as they did not crackle or snap with the passage of his body,
and the luminous glow in front of him broadened and deepened steadily. Near
the bottom of a deep valley he stopped and from his covert saw where great
fires had driven the fog away. Around the fires were many warriors, some of
them sleeping in their blankets, while others were eating prodigiously,
after their manner. Rifles and muskets were stacked in French fashion and
the clank, clank that Robert had heard had been made by the warriors as
they put up their weapons.

Many were talking freely and seemed to rejoice in the food and fires. It
was Robert's surmise that they had arrived but recently and were weary.
Their numbers were large, they certainly could not be less than four or
five hundred, and his experience was great enough now to tell him that half
of them, at least, were Canadian Indians. All were in war paint, and they
had an abundance of arms.

Robert's eager eye sought Tandakora, but did not find him. He had no doubt,
however, that this great body of warriors was moving against Rogers and his
rangers, and that it would soon be joined by the Ojibway chief. Tandakora,
anxious for revenge upon the Great Bear and the Mountain Wolf, would be
willing to leave Montcalm for a while if he thought that by doing so he
could achieve his purpose. His gaze wandered from the warriors to the
stacked rifles and muskets, and he saw that many of them were of English
or American make, undoubtedly spoil taken at the capture of Oswego. His
heart swelled with anger that the border should have its own weapons turned
against it by the foe.

It did not take him long to see enough. It was a powerful force, equipped
to strike, and now he was more anxious than ever to overtake Willet. The
fog was still thick and wet, distilling the fine rain, but he had forgotten
discomfort, and, turning back on his path, he sought the dip in which he
had left Tayoga sleeping. He felt a certain pride that it had been his
fortune to discover the band, and, as he had marked carefully the way by
which he had come, it was not a difficult task to retrace his steps.

The Onondaga was still sleeping, his back against the log, but he awoke
instantly when Robert touched him gently on the shoulder.

"What is it, Dagaeoga?" he whispered. "You have seen something! Your face
tells me so!"

"My face tells you the truth," replied Robert. "There is a valley only a
few hundred yards from us, and, in it, are about four hundred warriors,
armed for battle. All the signs indicate that they are going eastward in
search of our friends."

"You have done well, Dagaeoga. You have used both eye and mind. Was
Tandakora there?"

"No, but I'm convinced he soon will be."

"It appears likely. They think, perhaps, they are strong enough to
annihilate the rangers."

"Maybe they are, unless the rangers are warned. We ought to move at once."

"But the fog is too thick. We could not tell which way we were going. We
must not lose the trail of the Great Bear and Black Rifle, and, if the fog
lifts, we can regain it in the morning, going ahead of the war band."

"And then the warriors may pursue us."

"What does it matter, if we keep well ahead of them and overtake the Great
Bear and Black Rifle, who are surely going toward the rangers? We will put
out the fire, Dagaeoga, and stay here. The fog protects us. Now, you sleep
and I will watch."

His calmness was reassuring, and it was true that the fog was an almost
certain protection, while it lasted. They smothered the fire carefully, and
then, Robert was sufficient master of his nerves, to go to sleep, wrapped
in the invaluable buffalo robe. The Onondaga kept vigilant watch. His own
ear, too, heard the occasional sound made by human beings in the valley
below, but he did not stir from his place. He had absolute confidence in
Robert's report, and he would not take any unnecessary risk.

An hour or two before dawn a wind began to rise, and Tayoga knew by feeling
rather than sight that the fog was beginning to thin. If the wind held, it
would all blow away by sunrise, and the rain with it. He awakened Robert at
once.

"I think we would better move now," he said. "We shall soon be able to see
our way, and a good start ahead of the war band is important."

They made a northward curve, passing around the valley, in which the camp
of the warriors lay, and, when the sun showed its first luminous edge over
the horizon, they were several miles ahead. The steady wind had carried all
the fog and rain to the southward, but the forest was still wet and
dripping.

"And now," said Tayoga, "we must pick up anew the trail of the Great Bear
and Black Rifle. We are sure they were continuing east, and by ranging back
and forth from north to south and from south to north we can find it."

It was a full two hours before they discovered it, leading up a narrow
gorge, and Robert grew anxious lest the war band was already on their own
traces, which the warriors were sure to see in time. So they hastened their
own pursuit and very soon came to a thicket in which the two redoubtable
scouts had passed the night. The trail leading from it was comparatively
fresh and Tayoga was hopeful that they might overtake them before the next
sunset.

"They do not hurry," he said. "The Great Bear has been telling Black Rifle
of us, and now and then it was their thought to go back into the west to
make another hunt for us. My certainty about it is based on nothing in the
trail. It is just mind once more. It is exactly the idea that a valiant and
patient man like the Great Bear would have, and it would appeal too, to the
soul of such a great warrior as Black Rifle. But after thinking well upon
it, they have decided that the search would be vain for the present, and
once more they go on, though the wish to find us puts weights on their
feet."

Before noon they came to a place where Black Rifle shot a deer. The
useless portions of the body that the two had left behind spoke a language
none could fail to understand, and they were sure it was Black Rifle who
had fired the shot, because his broader footprints led to the place where
the body had fallen.

"It proves," said Tayoga, "that the rangers are still well ahead, else two
such wise men as the Great Bear and Black Rifle would not take the trouble
to kill a deer here and carry so much weight with them. It is likely that
the Mountain Wolf and his men are on the shores of Oneadatote itself."

All that afternoon the trail went upward higher and higher among the ranges
and peaks, but the infallible eye of Tayoga never lost it for a moment.

"We will not overtake them today, as I had hoped," he said, "but we shall
certainly do so tomorrow before noon."

"And the coming night is going to offer a striking contrast to the one just
passed," said Robert. "It will be crystal clear."

"So it will, Dagaeoga, and we will seek a camp among the rocks. It is best
to leave no traces for the warriors."

They traveled a long distance on the stony uplift before they stopped for
the night, and they did not build any fire, dividing the time into two
watches, each kept with great vigilance. But the pursuit which they were so
sure was now on did not overtake them, and early in the morning they were
once more on the traces of the two hunters.

"It is now sure we shall reach them before noon," said Tayoga, "but in
what manner we shall first see them I do not know. The trail has become
wonderfully fresh. Ah, they turned suddenly from their course here, and
soon they came back to it, at a point not more than ten feet away. We need
not follow them on their loop to see where they went. We know without
going. They climbed the steep little peak we see on the right, from the
crest of which they had a splendid view over an immense stretch of country
behind us. They looked in that direction because that was the point from
which pursuit or danger would come. The band behind us built a fire, and
the Great Bear and Black Rifle saw its smoke. They saw the smoke because
they could see nothing else so far behind them. After a good look, they
went on at their leisure. They had no fear. It was easy for such as they to
leave the band well in the rear, if they wished."

"If they haven't changed greatly since we last saw 'em," said Robert,
"they'll go all the more slowly because of the pursuit, and we may catch
'em in a couple of hours. Won't Dave be surprised when he sees us?"

"It will be a pleasant surprise for him. Here, they have stopped again, and
one of them climbed the tall elm for another view, while the other stood
guard by the trunk. I think, Dagaeoga, that the Great Bear and Black Rifle
were beginning to think less of flight than of battle."

"You don't mean that knowing the presence of the band behind us they
intended to meet it?"

"Not to stop it, of course, but spirits such as theirs might have a desire
to harm it a little, and impede its advance. In any event, Dagaeoga, we
shall soon see. Here is where the climber came down, and then the two went
on, walking slowly. They walked slowly, because the traces indicate that
they turned back often, and looked toward the point at which they had seen
the smoke rising. My mind tells me that the Great Bear thought it better to
continue straight ahead, but that Black Rifle was anxious to linger, and
get a few shots at the enemy. It is so, because the Great Bear, as we know,
is naturally cautious and would wish to do what is of the most service in
the campaign, while it is always the desire of Black Rifle to injure the
enemy as much as he can."

"Your reasoning seems conclusive to me."

"Did I not tell you, Dagaeoga, that you had the beginnings of a mind? Use
it sedulously, and it will grow yet more."

"And the time may come when I can talk out of a dictionary as you do,
Tayoga."

"Which merely proves, Dagaeoga, that those who learn a language always talk
it better than those who are born to it. Ah, they have turned once more,
and the trail leads again to the crest of a hill, where they will take
another long look backward. It seems that the wishes of Black Rifle are
about to prevail. Now we are at the top of the hill, and they stood here
several minutes talking and moving about, as the traces show very clearly.
But look, Dagaeoga, they saw something very much closer at hand than smoke.
Their talk was interrupted with great suddenness, and they took to ambush.
They crouched among these bushes, and you and I know they were a very
dangerous pair with their rifles ready. Still, Dagaeoga, instead of their
taking the battle to the warriors the battle was brought to them."

"You think, then, an encounter occurred?"

"I know it. They did not stay crouched here until the enemy went away, but
moved off down the hill, their course on the whole leading away from the
lake. The enemy was before them, because they kept among the bushes, always
in the densest part of them. Here they knelt. The bent grass stems indicate
the pressure of knees. The warriors must have been very close.

"Now the trail divides. Look, Dagaeoga! Black Rifle went to the right and
the Great Bear to the left. They formed a plan to flank the enemy and to
assail him from two sides. I should judge then that the warriors did not
number more than five or six. We will follow the Great Bear, who made the
slender traces, and if necessary we will come back and follow also those of
Black Rifle. But I think we can read the full account of the contest which
most certainly occurred from the evidence that the Great Bear left."

"You feel quite sure then that there was fighting?"

"Yes. It is not an opinion formed from the signs yet seen, but it is drawn
from the characters of the Great Bear and Black Rifle. They would not have
taken so much care unless there was the certainty of conflict. Here the
Great Bear knelt again, and took a long look at his enemy or at least at
the place where his enemy was lying. They were coming to close quarters or
he would not have knelt and waited. Perhaps he held his fire because Black
Rifle was making the wider circuit, and they meant to use their rifles at
the same time."

The Onondaga was on his own knees now, examining the faint trail intently,
his eyes alight with interest.

"The event will not be delayed long," he said, "because the Great Bear
stopped continually, seeking an opportunity for a shot. Here he pulled the
trigger."

He picked up a minute piece of the burned wadding of the muzzle-loading
rifle.

"The warrior at whom he fired was bound to have been in the thicket beyond
the open space," he said, "and it was there that he fell. He fell because
at such a critical time the Great Bear would not have fired unless he was
sure of his aim. We will look into the thicket"

They found several spots of blood among the bushes and at another point
about twenty feet away they saw more.

"Here is where the warrior fell before Black Rifle's bullet," said Tayoga.
"He and the Great Bear must have fired almost at the same time. Undoubtedly
the warriors retreated at once, carrying their dead with them. Let us see
if they did not unite, and leave the thicket at the farthest point from our
two friends."

The trail was very clear at the place the Onondaga had indicated, and also
many more red spots were there leading away toward the east.

"We will not follow them." said Tayoga, "because they do not interest us
any more. They have retreated and they do not longer enter into your
campaign and mine, Dagaeoga. We will go back and see where the left wing of
our army, that was the Great Bear, reunited with the right wing, that was
Black Rifle."

They found the point of junction not far away, and then the deliberate
trail led once more toward Champlain, the two pursuing it several hours in
silence and both noticing that it was rapidly growing fresher. At length
Tayoga stopped on the crest of a ridge and said:

"We no longer need to seek their trail, Dagaeoga, because I will now talk
with the Great Bear and Black Rifle."

"Very good, Tayoga. I am anxious to hear what you will say and how you will
say it."

A bird sang at Robert's side. It was Tayoga trilling forth a melody,
wonderfully clear and penetrating, a melody that carried far up the still
valley beyond.

"You will remember, Dagaeoga," he said, "that we have often used this call
with the Great Bear. The reply will soon come."

The two listened and Robert's heart beat hard. He owed much to Willet.
Their relationship was almost that of son and father, and the two were
about to meet after a long parting. He never doubted for a moment that the
Onondaga had always read the trail aright, and that Willet was with Black
Rifle in the valley below them.

Full and clear rose the song of a bird out of the dense bushes that filled
the valley. When it was finished Tayoga sang again, and the reply came as
before. The two went rapidly down the slope and the stalwart figures of
the hunter and Black Rifle rose to meet them. The four did not say much,
but in every case the grasp of the hand was strong and long.

"I went west in search of you, Robert," said the hunter, "but I was
compelled to come back, because of the great events that are forward here.
I felt, however, that Tayoga was there looking for you and would do all any
number of human beings could do."

"He found me and rescued me," said Robert, "and what of yourself, Dave?"

"I'm attached, for the present, to the rangers under Rogers. He's on the
shores of Champlain, and he's trying to hold back a big Indian army that
means to march south and join Montcalm for an attack on Fort William Henry
or Fort Edward."

"And there's a great Indian war band behind you, too, Dave."

"We know it. We saw their smoke. We also had an encounter with some
scouting warriors."

"We know that, too, Dave. You ambushed 'em and divided your force, one of
you going to the right and the other to the left. Two of their warriors
fell before your bullets, and then they fled, carrying their slain with
them."

"Correct to every detail. I suppose Tayoga read the signs."

"He did, and he also told me when he rescued me that you had carried the
text of the letter we took from Garay to Colonel Johnson in time, and that
the force of St. Luc was turned back."

"Yes, the preparations for defense made an attack by him hopeless, and
when his vanguard was defeated in the forest he gave up the plan."

They did not stop long, as they knew the great war band behind them was
pressing forward, but they felt little fear of it, as they were able to
make high speed of their own, despite the weight of their packs, and for
several days and nights they traveled over peaks and ridges, stopping only
at short intervals for sleep. They had no sign from the band behind them,
but they knew it was always there, and that it would probably unite at the
lake with the force the rangers were facing.

It was about noon of a gleaming summer day when Robert, from the crest of a
ridge, saw once more the vast sheet of water extending a hundred and
twenty-five miles north and south, that the Indians called Oneadatote and
the white men Champlain, and around which and upon which an adventurous
part of his own life had passed. His heart beat high, he felt now that the
stage was set again for great events, and that his comrades and he would,
as before, have a part in the war that was shaking the Old World as well as
the New.

In the afternoon they met rangers and before night they were in the camp of
Rogers, which included about three hundred men, and which was pitched in a
strong position at the edge of the lake. The Mountain Wolf greeted them
with great warmth.

"You're a redoubtable four," he said, "and I could wish that instead of
only four I was receiving four hundred like you."

He showed intense anxiety, and soon confided his reasons to Willet.

"You've brought me news," he said, "that a big war band is coming from the
west, and my scouts had told me already that a heavy force is to the
northward, and what is worst of all, the northern force is commanded by St.
Luc. It seems that he did not go south with Montcalm, but drew off an army
of both French and Indians for our destruction. He remembers his naval and
land defeat by us and naturally he wants revenge. He is helped, too, by the
complete command of the lake, that the French now hold. Since we've been
pressed southward we've lost Champlain."

"And of course St. Luc is eager to strike," said Willet. "He can recover
his lost laurels and serve France at the same time. If we're swept away
here, both the French and the Indians will pour down in a flood from Canada
upon the Province of New York."

Robert did not hear this talk, as he was seeking in the ranger camp the
repose that he needed so badly. He had brought with him some remnants of
food and the great buffalo robe that Tayoga had secured for him with so
much danger from the Indian village. Now he put down the robe, heaved a
mighty sigh of relief and said to the Onondaga:

"I'm proud of myself as a carrier, Tayoga, but I think I've had enough. I'm
glad the trail has ended squarely against the deep waters of Lake
Champlain."

"And yet, Dagaeoga, it is a fine robe."

"So it is. I should be the last to deny it, but now that we're with the
rangers I mean to carry nothing but my arms and ammunition. To appreciate
what it is to be without burdens you must have borne them."

The hospitable rangers would not let the two youths do any work for the
present, and so they took a luxurious bath in the lake, which they
commanded as far as the bullets from their rifles could reach. They
rejoiced in the cool waters, after their long flight through the
wilderness.

"It's almost worth so many days and nights of danger to have this," said
Robert, swimming with strong strokes.

"Aye, Dagaeoga, it is splendid," said the Onondaga, "but see that you do
not swim too far. Remember that for the time Oneadatote belongs to Onontio.
We had it, but we have lost it."

"Then we'll get it back again," said Robert courageously. "Champlain is too
fine a lake to lose forever. Wait until I've had a big sleep. Then my brain
will be clear, and I'll tell how it ought to be done."

The two returned to land, dressed, and slept by the campfire.




CHAPTER XIV


ST. LUC'S REVENGE

When Robert awoke from a long and deep sleep he became aware, at once, that
the anxious feeling in the camp still prevailed. Rogers was in close
conference with Willet, Black Rifle and several of his own leaders beside a
small fire, and, at times, they looked apprehensively toward the north or
west, a fact indicating to the lad very clearly whence the danger was
expected. Most of the scouts had come in, and, although Robert did not know
it, they had reported that the force of St. Luc, advancing in a wide curve,
and now including the western band, was very near. It was the burden of
their testimony, too, that he now had at least a thousand men, of whom
one-third were French or Canadians.

Tayoga was sitting on a high point of the cliff, watching the lake, and
Robert joined him. The face of the young Onondaga was very grave.

"You look for an early battle, I suppose," said Robert.

"Yes, Dagaeoga," replied his comrade, "and it will be fought with the odds
heavily against us. I think the Mountain Wolf should not have awaited Sharp
Sword here, but who am I to give advice to a leader, so able and with so
much experience?"

"But we beat St. Luc once in a battle by a lake!"

"Then we had a fleet, and, for the time, at least, we won command of the
lake. Now the enemy is supreme on Oneadatote. If we have any canoes on its
hundred and twenty-five miles of length they are lone and scattered, and
they stay in hiding near its shores."

"Why are you watching its waters now so intently, Tayoga?"

"To see the sentinels of the foe, when they come down from the north. Sharp
Sword is too great a general not to use all of his advantages in battle. He
will advance by water as well as by land, but, first he will use his eyes,
before he permits his hand to strike. Do you see anything far up the lake,
Dagaeoga?"

"Only the sunlight on the waters."

"Yes, that is all. I believed, for a moment or two, that I saw a black dot
there, but it was only my fancy creating what I expected my sight to
behold. Let us look again all around the horizon, where it touches the
water, following it as we would a line. Ah, I think I see a dark speck,
just a black mote at this distance, and I am still unable to separate fancy
from fact, but it may be fact. What do you think, Dagaeoga?"

"My thought has not taken shape yet, Tayoga, but if 'tis fancy then 'tis
singularly persistent. I see the black mote too, to the left, toward the
western shore of the lake, is it not?"

"Aye, Dagaeoga, that is where it is. If we are both the victims of fancy
then our illusions are wonderfully alike. Think you that we would imagine
exactly the same thing at exactly the same place?"

"No, I don't! And as I live, Tayoga, the mote is growing larger! It takes
on the semblance of reality, and, although very far from us, it's my belief
that it's moving this way!"

"Again my fancy is the same as yours and it is not possible that they
should continue exactly alike through all changes. That which may have been
fancy in the beginning has most certainly turned into fact, and the black
mote that we see upon the waters is in all probability a hostile canoe
coming to spy upon us."

They watched the dark dot detach itself from the horizon and grow
continuously until their eyes told them, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that
it was a canoe containing two warriors. It was moving swiftly and presently
Rogers and Willet came to look at it. The two warriors brought their light
craft on steadily, but stopped well out of rifle shot, where they let their
paddles rest and gazed long at the shore.

"It is like being without a right arm to have no force upon the lake," said
Rogers.

"It cripples us sorely," said Willet. "Perhaps we'd better swallow our
pride, bitter though the medicine may be, and retreat at speed."

"I can't do it," said Rogers. "I'm here to hold back St. Luc, if I can, and
moreover, 'tis too late. We'd be surrounded in the forest and probably
annihilated."

"I suppose you're right. We'll meet him where we stand, and when the
battle is over, whatever may be its fortunes, he'll know that he had a real
fight."

They walked away from the lake, and began to arrange their forces to the
most advantage, but Robert and Tayoga remained on the cliff. They saw the
canoe go back toward the north, melt into the horizon line, and then
reappear, but with a whole brood of canoes. All of them advanced rapidly,
and they stretched into a line half way across the lake. Many were great
war canoes, containing eight or ten men apiece.

"Now the attack by land is at hand," said Tayoga. "Sharp Sword is sure to
see that his two forces move forward at the same time. Hark!"

They heard the report of a rifle shot in the forest, then another and
another. Willet joined them and said it was the wish of Rogers that they
remain where they were, as a small force was needed at that point to
prevent a landing by the Indians. A fire from the lake would undoubtedly be
opened upon their flank, but if the warriors could be kept in their canoes
it could not become very deadly. Black Rifle came also, and he, Willet,
Robert, Tayoga and ten of the rangers lying down behind some trees at the
edge of the cliff, watched the water.

The Indian fleet hovered a little while out of rifle shot. Meanwhile the
firing in the forest grew. Bullets from both sides pattered on leaves and
bark, and the shouts of besieged and besiegers mingled, but the members of
the force on the cliff kept their eyes resolutely on the water.

"The canoes are moving again," said Tayoga. "They are coming a little
nearer. I see Frenchmen in some of them and presently they will try to
sweep the bank with their rifles."

"Our bullets will carry as far as theirs," said the hunter.

"True, O, Great Bear, and perhaps with surer aim."

In another moment puffs of white smoke appeared in the fleet, which was
swinging forward in a crescent shape, and Robert heard the whine of lead
over his head. Then Willet pulled the trigger and a warrior fell from his
canoe. Black Rifle's bullet sped as true, and several of the rangers also
found their targets. Yet the fleet pressed the attack. Despite their
losses, the Indians did not give back, the canoes came closer and closer,
many of the warriors dropped into the water behind their vessels and fired
from hiding, bullets rained around the little band on the cliff, and
presently struck among them. Two of the rangers were slain and two more
were wounded. Robert saw the Frenchmen in the fleet encouraging the
Indians, and he knew that their enemies were firing at the smoke made by
the rifles of the defenders. Although he and his comrades were invisible to
the French and Indians in the fleet, the bullets sought them out
nevertheless. Wounds were increasing and another of the rangers was killed.
Theirs was quickly becoming an extremely hot corner.

But Willet, who commanded at that point, gave no order to retreat. He and
all of his men continued to fire as fast as they could reload and take aim.
Yet to choose a target became more difficult, as the firing from the fleet
made a great cloud of smoke about it, in which the French and Indians were
hidden, or, at best, were but wavering phantoms. Robert's excited
imagination magnified them fivefold, but he had no thought of shirking the
battle, and he crept to the very brink, seeking something at which to fire
in the clouds of smoke that were steadily growing larger and blacker.

The foes upon the lake fought mostly in silence, save for the crackle of
their rifles, but Robert became conscious presently of a great shouting
behind him. In his concentration upon their own combat he had forgotten the
main battle; but now he realized that it was being pressed with great fury
and upon a half circle from the north and west. He looked back and saw that
the forest was filled with smoke pierced by innumerable red flashes; the
rattle of the rifles there made a continuous crash, and then he heard a
tremendous report, followed by a shout of dismay from the rangers.

"What is it?" he cried. "What is it?"

Willet, who was crouched near him, turned pale, but he replied in a steady
voice.

"St. Luc has brought a field piece, a twelve-pounder, I think, and they've
opened fire with grape-shot. They'll sweep the whole forest. Who'd have
thought it?"

The battle sank for a moment, and then a tremendous yell of triumph came
from the Indians. Presently, the cannon crashed again, and its deadly
charge of grape took heavy toll of the rangers. Then the lake and the
mountains gave back the heavy boom of the gun in many echoes, and it was
like the toll of doom. The Indians on both water and shore began to shout
in the utmost fury, and Robert detected the note of triumph in the
tremendous volume of sound. His heart went down like lead. Rogers crept
back to Willet and the two talked together earnestly.

"The cannon changes everything," said the leader of the rangers. "More than
twenty of my men are dead, and nearly twice as many are wounded. 'Tis
apparent they have plenty of grape, and they are sending it like hail
through the forest. The bushes are no shelter, as it cuts through 'em.
Dave, old comrade, what do you think?"

"That St. Luc is about to have his revenge for the defeat we gave him at
Andiatarocte. The cannon with its grape turns the scale. They come on with
uncommon fury! It seems to me I hear a thousand rifles all together."

St. Luc now pressed the attack from every side save the south. The French
and Indians in the fleet redoubled their fire. The twelve-pounder was
pushed forward, and, as fast as the expert French gunners could reload it,
the terrible charges of grape-shot were sent among the rangers. More were
slain or wounded. The little band of defenders on the high cliff
overlooking the lake at last found their corner too hot for them and were
compelled to join the main force. Then the French and Indians in the fleet
landed with shouts of triumph and rushed upon the Americans.

Robert caught glimpses of other Frenchmen as he faced the forest. Once an
epaulet showed behind a bush and then a breadth of tanned face which he was
sure belonged to De Courcelles. And so this man who had sought to make him
the victim of a deadly trick was here! And perhaps Jumonville also! A
furious rage seized him and he sought eagerly for a shot at the epaulet,
but it disappeared. He crept a little farther forward, hoping for another
view, and Tayoga noticed his eager, questing gaze.

"What is it, Dagaeoga?" he asked. "Whom do you hate so much?"

"I saw the French Colonel, De Courcelles, and I was seeking to draw a bead
on him, but he has gone."

"Perhaps he has, but another takes his place. Look at the clump of bushes
directly in front of us and you will see a pale blue sleeve which beyond a
doubt holds the arm of a French officer. The arm cannot be far away from
the head and body, which I think we will see in time, if we keep on
looking."

Both watched the bushes with a concentrated gaze and presently the head and
shoulders, following the arm, disclosed themselves. Robert raised his rifle
and took aim, but as he looked down the sights he saw the face among the
leaves, and a shudder shook him. He lowered his rifle.

"What is it, Dagaeoga?" whispered the Onondaga.

"The man I chose for my target," replied Robert, "was not De Courcelles,
nor yet Junonville, but that young De Galissonnière, who was so kind to us
in Quebec, and whom we met later among the peaks. I was about to pull
trigger, and, if I had done so, I should be sorry all my life."

"Is he still there?"

Robert looked again and De Galissonnière was gone. He felt immense relief.
He thought it was war's worst cruelty that it often brought friends face to
face in battle.

The French and Indian horde from the lake landed and drove against the
rangers on the eastern flank with great violence, firing their rifles and
muskets, and then coming on with the tomahawk. The little force of Rogers
was in danger of being enveloped on all sides, and would have been
exterminated had it not been for his valor and presence of mind, seconded
so ably by Willet, Black Rifle and their comrades.

They formed a barrier of living fire, facing in three directions and
holding back the shouting horde until the main body of the surviving
rangers could gather for retreat. Robert and Tayoga were near Willet, all
the best sharpshooters were there, and never had they fought more valiantly
than on that day.

Robert crouched among the bushes, peering for the faces of his foes, and
firing whenever he could secure a good aim.

"Have you seen Tandakora?" he asked Tayoga.

"No," replied the Onondaga.

"He must be here. He would not miss such a chance."

"He is here."

"But you said you hadn't seen him."

"I have not seen him, but O, Dagaeoga, I have heard him. Did not we
observe when we were in the forest that ear was often to be trusted more
than eye? Listen to the greatest war shout of them all! You can hear it
every minute or two, rising over all the others, superior in volume as it
is in ferocity. The voice of the Ojibway is huge, like his figure."

Now, in very truth, Robert did notice the fierce triumphant shout of
Tandakora, over and above the yelling of the horde, and it made him shudder
again and again. It was the cry of the man-hunting wolf, enlarged many
times, and instinct with exultation and ferocity. That terrible cry, rising
at regular intervals, dominated the battle in Robert's mind, and he looked
eagerly for the colossal form of the chief that he might send his bullet
through it, but in vain; the voice was there though his eyes saw nothing at
which to aim.

Farther and farther back went the rangers, and the youth's heart was filled
with anger and grief. Had they endured so much, had they escaped so many
dangers, merely to take part in such a disaster? Unconsciously he began to
shout in an effort to encourage those with him, and although he did not
know it, it was a reply to the war cries of Tandakora. The smoke and the
odors of the burned gunpowder filled his nostrils and throat, and heated
his brain. Now and then he would stop his own shouting and listen for the
reply of Tandakora. Always it came, the ferocious note of the Ojibway
swelling and rising above the warwhoop of the other Indians.

"Dagaeoga looks for Tandakora," said the Onondaga.

"Truly, yes," replied Robert. "Just now it's my greatest wish in life to
find him with a bullet. I hear his voice almost continuously, but I can't
see him! I think the smoke hides him."

"No, Dagaeoga, it is not the smoke, it is Areskoui. I know it, because the
Sun God has whispered it in my ear. You will hear the voice of Tandakora
all through the battle, but you will not see him once."

"Why should your Areskoui protect a man like Tandakora, who deserves death,
if anyone ever did?"

"He protects him, today merely, not always. It is understood that I shall
meet Tandakora in the final reckoning. I told him so, when I was his
captive, and he struck me in the face. It was no will of mine that made me
say the words, but it was Areskoui directing me to utter them. So, I know,
O, my comrade, that Tandakora cannot fall to your rifle now. His time is
not today, but it will come as surely as the sun sets behind the peaks."

Tayoga spoke with such intense earnestness that Robert looked at him, and
his face, seen through the battle smoke, had all the rapt expression of a
prophet's. The white youth felt, for the moment at least, with all the
depth of conviction, the words of the red youth would come true. Then the
tremendous voice of Tandakora boomed above the firing and yelling, but, as
before, his body remained invisible. Tandakora's Indians, many of whom had
come with him from the far shores of the Great Lakes, showed all the
cunning and courage that made them so redoubtable in forest warfare. Armed
with good French muskets and rifles they crept forward among the thickets,
and poured in an unceasing fire. Encouraged by the success at Oswego, and
by the knowledge that the great St. Luc, the best of all the French
leaders, was commanding the whole force, their ferocity rose to the highest
pitch and it was fed also by the hope that they would destroy all the hated
and dreaded rangers whom they now held in a trap.

Robert had never before seen them attack with so much disregard of wounds,
and death. Usually the Indian was a wary fighter, always preferring ambush,
and securing every possible advantage for himself, but now they rushed
boldly across open spaces, seeking new and nearer coverts. Many fell before
the bullets of the rangers but the swarms came on, with undiminished zeal,
always pushing the battle, and keeping up a fire so heavy that, despite the
bullets that went wild, the rangers steadily diminished in numbers.

"It's a powerful attack," said Robert.

"It's because they feel so sure of victory," said Tayoga, "and it's because
they know it's the Mountain Wolf and his men whom they have surrounded.
They would rather destroy a hundred rangers than three hundred troops."

"That's so," said Willet, who overheard them in all the crash of the
battle. "They won't let the opportunity escape. Back a little, lads! This
place is becoming too much exposed."

They withdrew into deeper shelter, but they still fired as fast, as they
could reload and pull the trigger. Their bullets, although they rarely
missed, seemed to make no impression on the red horde, which always pressed
closer, and there was a deadly ring of fire around the rangers, made by
hundreds of rifles and muskets.

Robert and Tayoga were still without wounds. Leaves and twigs rained around
them, and they heard often the song of the bullets, they saw many of the
rangers fall, but happy fortune kept their own bodies untouched. Robert
knew that the battle was a losing one, but he was resolved to hold his
place with his comrades. Rogers, who had been fighting with undaunted valor
and desperation, marshaling his men in vain against numbers greatly
superior, made his way once more to the side of Willet and crouched with
him in the bushes.

"Dave, my friend," he said, "the battle goes against us."

"So it does," replied the hunter, "but it is no fault of yours or your men.
St. Luc, the best of all the French leaders, has forced us into a trap.
There is nothing left for us to do now but burst the trap."

"I hate to yield the field."

"But it must be done. It's better to lose a part of the rangers than to
lose all. You've had many a narrow escape before. Men will come to your
standard and you'll have a new band bigger than ever."

The dark face of the ranger captain brightened a little. But he looked
sadly upon his fallen men. He was bleeding himself from two slight wounds,
but he paid no attention to them. The need to flee pierced his soul, but
he saw that it must be done, else all the rangers would be destroyed, and,
while he still hesitated a moment or two, the silver whistle of St. Luc,
urging on a fresh and greater attack, rose above all the sounds of combat.
Then he knew that he must wait no longer, and he gave the command for
ordered flight.

Not more than half of the rangers escaped from that terrible converging
attack. St. Luc's triumph was complete. He had won full revenge for his
defeat by Andiatarocte, and he pushed the pursuit with so much energy and
skill that Rogers bade the surviving rangers scatter in the wilderness to
reassemble again, after their fashion, far to the south.

Black Rifle remained with the leader, but Robert, Tayoga and Willet
continued their flight together, not stopping until night, when they were
safe from pursuit. As the three went southward through the deep forest,
they saw many trails that they knew to be those of hostile Indians, and
nowhere did they find a sign of a friend. All the wilderness seemed to have
become the country of the enemy. When they looked once more from the lofty
shores upon the vivid waters of George, they beheld canoes, but as they
watched they discovered that they were those of the foe. A terrible fear
clutched at their hearts, a fear that Montcalm, like St. Luc, had struck
already.

"The tide of battle has flowed south of us," said Tayoga. "All that we find
in the forest proclaims it."

"I would you were not right, Tayoga," said the hunter, "but I fear you
are."

They came the next day to the trail of a great army, soldiers and cannon.
Night overtook them while they were still near the shores of Lake George,
following the road, left by the French and Indian host as it had advanced
south, and the three, wearied by their long flight, drew back into the
dense thickets for rest. The darkness had come on thicker and heavier than
usual, and they were glad of it, as they were well hidden in its dusky
folds, and they wished to rest without apprehension.

They had food with them which they ate, and then they wrapped their
blankets about their bodies, because a wind was coming from the lake, and
its touch was damp. Clouds also covered all the skies, and, before long, a
thin, drizzling rain fell. They would have been cold, and, in time, wet to
the bone, but the blankets were sufficient to protect them.

"Areskoui, after smiling upon us for so long, has now turned his face from
us," said Tayoga.

"What else can you expect?" said the valiant Willet. "It is always so in
war. You're up and then you're down. We were masters of the peaks for a
while, and by our capture of Garay's letter we kept St. Luc from attacking
Albany, but the stars never fight for you all the time. We couldn't do
anything that would save the rangers from defeat."

The Onondaga looked up. The others could not see his face, but it was
reverential, and the cold rain that fell upon it had then no chill for
him. Instead it was soothing.

"Tododaho is on his great star beyond the clouds," he said, "and he is
looking down on us. We have done wrong or he and Areskoui would not have
withdrawn their favor from us, but we have done it unknowingly, and, in
time, they will forgive us. As long as the Onondagas are true to him
Tododaho will watch over them, although at times he may punish them."

That Tododaho was protecting them even then was proved conclusively to
Tayoga before the night was over. A great war party passed within a hundred
yards of them, going swiftly southward, but the three, swathed in their
blankets, and, hidden in the dark thickets, had no fear. They were merely
three motes in the wilderness and the warriors did not dream that they were
near. When the last sound of their marching had sunk into nothingness,
Tayoga said:

"It was not the will of Tododaho that they should suspect our presence, but
I fear that they go to a triumph."

They rose from the thicket early the following morning, and resumed their
flight, but it soon came to a halt, when the Onondaga pointed to a trail in
the forest, made apparently by about twenty warriors. The hawk eye of
Tayoga, however, picked out one trace among them which all three knew was
made by a white man.

"I know, too," said the red youth, "the white man who made it."

"Tell us his name," said the hunter, who had full confidence in the
wonderful powers of the Onondaga.

"It is the Frenchman, Langlade, who held Dagaeoga a prisoner in his village
so long. I know his traces, because I followed them before. His foot is
very small, and it has been less than an hour since he passed here. They
are ahead of us, directly in our path."

"What do you think we ought to do, Dave?" asked Robert, anxiously. "You
know we want to go south as fast as we can."

"We must try to go around Langlade," replied Willet. "It's true, we'll lose
time, but it's better to lose time and be late a little than to lose our
lives and never get there at all."

"The Great Bear is a very wise man," said Tayoga.

They made at once a sharp curve toward the east, but just when they thought
they were passing parallel with Langlade's band, they were fired upon from
a thicket, the bullet singing by Robert's ear. The three took cover in the
bushes, and a long and trying combat of sharpshooters took place. Two
warriors were slain and both Willet and Tayoga were grazed by the Indian
fire, but they were not hurt. Robert once caught sight of Langlade, and he
might have dropped the partisan with his bullet, but his heart held his
hand. Langlade had shown him many a kindness, during his long captivity
and, although he was a fierce enemy now, the lad was not one to forget. As
he had spared De Galissonnière, so would he spare Langlade, and, in a
moment or two, the Frenchman was gone from his sight.

Another dark and rainy night came, and, protected by it, they crept in
silence past the partisan's band soon leaving this new danger far behind
them. Tayoga was very grateful, and accepted their escape as a sign.

"While Manitou, who rules all things, has decreed that we must suffer much
before victory," he said, "yet, as I see it, he has decreed also that we
three shall not fall, else why does he spread so many dangers before us,
and then take us safely through them?"

"It looks the same way to me," said Willet. "The dark and rainy night that
he sent enabled us to pass by Langlade and his band."

"A second black night following a first," said Tayoga, devoutly. "I do not
doubt that it was sent for our benefit by Manitou, who is lord even over
Tododaho and Areskoui."

They made good speed near the shores of Andiatarocte and now and then they
caught glimpses once more through the heavy green foliage of the lake's
glittering waters. But they saw anew the canoes of the French and Indians
upon its surface, and they realized with increasing force that
Andiatarocte, so vital in the great struggle, belonged, for the time at
least, to their enemies. Yet the three themselves were favored. The rain
ceased, a warm wind out of the south dried the forest, and their flight
became easy. A fat deer stood in their path and fairly asked to be shot,
furnishing them all the food they might need for days to come, and they
were able to dress and prepare it at their leisure.

"It is clear, as I have already surmised and stated," said Tayoga in his
precise language, "that the frown of Manitou is not for us three. The way
opens before us, and we shall rejoin our friends."

"If we have any friends left," said the hunter. "I fear greatly, Tayoga,
that Montcalm will have struck before we arrive. He has a powerful force
with plenty of cannon, and we know he acts with decision and speed."

"He has struck already and he has struck terribly," said Tayoga with great
gravity.

"How do you know that?" asked Robert, startled.

"I do not know it because of anything that has been told to me in words,"
replied the Onondaga, "but O, Dagaeoga, the mind, which is often more
potent than eye or ear, as I have told you so many times, is now warning
me. We know that our people farther south have been in disagreement. The
governors of the provinces have not acted together. Everyone is of his own
mind, and no two minds are alike. No effort was made to profit by the great
victory last year on the shores of Andiatarocte. Waraiyageh, sore in body
and mind, rests at home, so it is not possible that our people have been
ready and vigorous."

"While the French and Indians are all that we are not?"

"Even so. Montcalm advances with great speed, and knows precisely what he
intends to do. He has had plenty of time to reach our forts below. His
force is overwhelming, though more so in preparation and decision, than in
numbers. He has had time to strike, and being Montcalm, therefore he has
struck. There is no chance of error, O, Dagaeoga and Great Bear, when I
tell you a heavy blow has fallen upon us."

"I don't want to believe you, Tayoga," said the hunter, "but I do. The
conclusion seems inevitable to me."

"I'm hoping when hope's but faint," said Robert.

They swung again into the great trail, left by the army of Montcalm, or at
least a part of it, and the Onondaga and the hunter told its tale with
precision.

"Here passed the cannon," said Tayoga. "I judge by the size of the ruts the
wheels made that a battery of twelve pounders went this way. What do you
say, Great Bear?"

"You're right, of course, Tayoga, and there were eight guns in the battery;
a child could tell their number. They had other batteries too."

"And the wooden walls of our forts wouldn't stand much chance against a
continuous fire of twelve and eighteen pounders," said Robert.

"No," said Willet. "The forts could be saved only by enterprising and
skillful commanders who would drive away the batteries."

"Here went the warriors," said Tayoga. "They were on the outer edges of the
great trail, walking lightly, according to their custom. See the traces of
the moccasins, scores and scores of them. We will come very soon to a place
where the whole army camped for the night. How do I know, O, Dagaeoga?
Because numerous trails are coming in from the forest and converging upon
one point. They do that because it is time to gather for food and the
night's rest. Some of the warriors went into the forest to hunt game, and
they found it, too. Look at the drops of blood, still faintly showing on
the grass, leading here, and here, and here into the main trail, drops that
fell from the deer they had slain. Also they shot birds. Behold feathers
hanging on the bushes, blown there by the wind, which proves that the site
of their camp is very near, as I said."

"It's just over the hill in that wide, shallow valley," said Willet.

They entered the valley which had been marked by the departed army with
signs as clear as the print of a book for the Onondaga and the hunter to
read.

"Here at the northern end of the valley is where the warriors cooked and
ate the deer they had slain," said Tayoga. "The bones are scattered all
about, and we see the ashes of their fires, but they kept mostly to
themselves, because few footprints of white men lead to the place they set
aside as their own. Just beyond them the cannon were parked. All this is
very simple. An Onondaga child eight years old could read what is written
in this camp. Here are the impressions made by the cannon wheels, and just
beside them the artillery horses were tethered, as the numerous hoofprints
show."

"And here, I imagine," said Robert, who had walked on, "the Marquis de
Montcalm and his lieutenants spent the night. Tents were pitched for them.
You can see the holes left by the pegs."

"Spoken truly, O, Dagaeoga. You are using eye and mind, and lo! you are
showing once more the beginnings of wisdom. Four tents were pitched. The
rest of the army slept in the open. Montcalm and his lieutenants
themselves would have done so, but the setting up of the tents inspired
respect in the warriors and even in the troops. The French leaders have
mind and they profit by it. They neglect no precaution, no detail to
increase their prestige and maintain their authority."

"It is so, Tayoga," said Willet, "and I can wish that our own officers
would do the same. The French are marvelously expert in dealing with
Indians. They can handle them all, except the Hodenosaunee. But don't you
think they held a short council here by this log, after they had eaten
their suppers?"

"It cannot be doubted, Great Bear. Montcalm and his captains sat on the
log. The Indian chiefs sat in a half circle before it, and they smoked a
pipe. See, the traces of the ashes on the grass. They were planning the
attack upon the fort. It is bound to be William Henry, because the trail
leads in that direction."

"And these marks on the log, Tayoga, show that there was some indecision,
at first, and much talking. Two or three of the French officers had their
hunting knives in their hands, and they carved nervously at the log, just
as a man will often whittle as he argues."

"Well stated, O, Great Bear. After the conference, the chiefs went back in
single file to their own part of the camp. Here goes their trail, and you
can nearly fancy that all stepped exactly in the footprints of the first."

"The straight, decisive line proves too, Tayoga, that the plan was
completed and everything ready for the attack. The chiefs would not have
gone away in such a manner if they had not been satisfied."

"Well stated again, Great Bear. The Marquis de Montcalm also went directly
back to his tent. See, where the boot heels pressed."

"But you have no way of knowing," said Robert, "that the traces of boot
heels indicate the Marquis."

"O, Dagaeoga, after all my teaching, you forget again that mind can see
where the eye cannot. Train the mind! Train the mind, and you will get much
profit from it. The traces of these boot heels lead directly to the place
where the largest tent stood. We know it was the largest, because the holes
left by the tent pegs are farthest apart. And we know it belonged to the
Marquis de Montcalm, because, always having that keen eye for effect, the
French Commander-in-Chief would have no tent but the largest."

"True as Gospel, Tayoga," said the hunter, "and the French officers
themselves had a little conference in the tent of the Marquis, after they
had finished with the Indian chiefs. Here, within the square made by the
pegs, are the prints of many boot heels and they were not all made by the
Marquis, since they are of different sizes. Probably they were completing
some plans in regard to the artillery, since the warriors would have
nothing to do with the big guns. Here are ashes, too, in the corner near
one of the pegs. I think it likely that the Marquis smoked a thoughtful
pipe after all the others had gone."

"Aye, Dave," said Robert, "and he had much to think about. The officers
from Europe find things tremendously changed when they come from their
open fields into this mighty wilderness. We know what happened to Braddock,
because we saw it, and we had a part in it. I can understand his mistake.
How could a soldier from Europe read the signs of the forest, signs that he
had never seen before, and foresee the ambush?"

"He couldn't, Robert, lad, but while countries change in character men
themselves don't. Braddock was brave, but he should have remembered that he
was not in Europe. The Marquis de Montcalm remembers it. He made no mistake
at Oswego and he is making none here. He took the Indian chiefs into
council, as we have just seen. He placates them, he humors their whims, and
he draws out of them their full fighting power to be used for the French
cause."

Tayoga ranged about the shallow valley a little, and announced that the
whole force had gone on together the morning after the encampment.

"The artillery and the infantry were in close ranks," he said, "and the
warriors were on either flank, scouting in the forest, forming a fringe
which kept off possible scouts of the English and Americans. There was no
chance of a surprise attack which would cut up the forces of Montcalm and
impede his advance."

Willet sighed.

"The Marquis, although he may not have known it," he said, "was in no
danger from such an enterprise. We have read the signs too well, Tayoga.
Our own people have been lying in their forts, weak of will, waiting to
defend themselves, while the French and their allies have had all the
wilderness to range over, and in which they might do as they pleased. It is
easy to see where the advantage lies."

"And we shall soon learn what has happened," said Tayoga, gravely.

The next morning they met an American scout who told them the terrible news
of the capture of Fort William Henry, with its entire garrison, by
Montcalm, and the slaughter afterward of many of the prisoners by the
Indians.

Robert was appalled.

"Is Lake George to remain our only victory?" he exclaimed.

"It's better to have a bad beginning and a good ending than a good
beginning and a bad ending," said the scout.

"Remember," said Tayoga, "how Areskoui watched over us, when we were among
the peaks. As he watched over us then so later on he will watch over our
cause."

"It was only for a moment that I felt despair," said Robert. "It is certain
that victory always comes to those who know how to work and wait."

Courage rose anew in their hearts, and once more they sped southward,
resolved to make greater efforts than any that had gone before.





End of Project Gutenberg's The Masters of the Peaks, by Joseph A. Altsheler