THE AMBUSH
Robert now had much experience of Indian attack and forest warfare,
but it always made a tremendous impression upon his vivid and uncommon
imagination. The great pulses in his throat and temples leaped, and
his ear became so keen that he seemed to himself to hear the fall of
the leaf in the forest. It was this acute sharpening of the senses,
the painting of pictures before him, that gave him the gift of golden
speech that the Indians had first noticed in him. He saw and heard
much that others could neither hear nor see, and the words to describe
it were always ready to pour forth.
Willet and Tayoga were crouched near him, their rifles thrust forward
a little, and just beyond them was Captain Colden who had drawn a
small sword, more as an evidence of command than as a weapon. The
men, city bred, were silent, but the faces of some of them still
expressed amazement and incredulity. Robert's quick and powerful
imagination instantly projected itself into their minds, and he saw as
they saw. To them the cry of a wolf was the cry of a real wolf, the
forest was dark, lonely and uncomfortable, but it was empty of any
foe, and the four who had come to them were merely trying to create a
sense of their own importance. They began to move restlessly, and it
required Captain Colden's whispered but sharp command to still them
again.
The cry of the wolf, used much by both the Indians and the borderers
as a signal, came now from the east, and after the lapse of a minute
it was repeated from the west. Call and answer were a relief to
Robert, whose faculties were attuned to such a high degree that any
relief to the strain, though it brought the certainty of attack, was
welcome.
"You're sure those cries were made by our enemies?" said young Colden.
"Beyond a doubt," replied Willet. "I can tell the difference between
the note and that of a genuine wolf, but then I've spent many years in
the wilderness, and I had to learn these things in order to live.
They'll send forward scouts, and they'll expect to find you and your
men around the fire, most of you asleep. When they miss you there
they'll try to locate you, and they'll soon trail us to these bushes."
Captain James Colden had his share of pride, and much faith in
himself, but he had nobility of soul, too.
"I believe you implicitly, Mr. Willet," he said. "If it had not been
for you and your friends the enemy would have been upon us when we
expected him not at all, and 'tis most likely that all of us would
have been killed and scalped. So, I thank you now, lest I fall in the
battle, and it be too late then to express my gratitude."
It was a little bit formal, and a little bit youthful, but Willet
accepted the words in the fine spirit in which they were uttered.
"What we did was no more than we should have done," he replied, "and
you'll pay us back. In such times as these everybody ought to help
everybody else. Caution your soldiers, captain, won't you, not to
make any noise at all. The wolf will howl no more, and I fancy their
scouts are now within two or three hundred yards of the fire. I'm glad
it's turned darker."
The troop, hidden in the bushes, was now completely silent. The
Philadelphia men, used to contiguous houses and streets, were not
afraid, but they were appalled by their extraordinary position at
night, in the deep brush of an unknown wilderness with a creeping foe
coming down upon them. Many a hand quivered upon the rifle barrel, but
the heart of its owner did not tremble.
The moonlight was scant and the stars were few. To the city men trees
and bushes melted together in a general blackness, relieved only by a
single point of light where the fire yet smoldered, but Robert,
kneeling by the side of Tayoga, saw with his trained eyes the separate
trunks stretching away like columns, and then far beyond the fire he
thought he caught a glimpse of a red feather raised for a moment above
the undergrowth.
"Did you see!" he whispered to Tayoga.
"Yes. It was a painted feather in the scalp lock of a Huron," replied
the Onondaga.
"And where he is others are sure to be."
"Well spoken, Dagaeoga. They have discovered already that the soldiers
are not by the fire, and now they will search for them."
"They will lie almost flat on their faces and follow, a little, the
broad trail the city men have left."
"Doubtless, Dagaeoga."
Willet had already warned Captain Colden, and the soldiers were ready.
Tayoga was on Robert's right, and on his left was Black Rifle to whom
his attention was now attracted. The man's eyes were blazing in his
dark face, and his crouched figure was tense like that of a lion about
to spring. Face and attitude alike expressed the most eager
anticipation, and Robert shuddered. The ranger would add more lives to
the toll of his revenge, and yet the youth felt sympathy for him, too.
Then his mind became wholly absorbed in the battle, which obviously
was so close at hand.
Their position was strong. Just behind them the thickets ended in a
cliff hard to climb, and on the right was an open space that the enemy
could not cross without being seen. Hence the chief danger was in
front and on the left, and most of the men watched those points.
"I can see the bushes moving about a hundred yards away," whispered
Tayoga. "A warrior is there, but to fire at him would be shooting at
random."
"Let them begin it. They'll open soon. They'll know by our absence
from the fire that we're looking for 'em."
"Spoken well, Dagaeoga. You'll be a warrior some day."
Robert smiled in the dark. Tayoga himself was so great a warrior that
he could preserve his sense of humor upon the eve of a deadly battle.
Robert also saw bushes moving now, but nothing was definite enough for
a shot, and he waited with his fingers on the trigger.
"The enemy is at hand, Captain Colden," said Willet. "If you will look
very closely at the thicket about one hundred yards directly in front
of us you'll see the leaves shaking."
"Yes, I can make out some movement there," said Colden.
"They've discovered, of course, that we've left the fire, and they
know also where we are."
"Do you think they'll try to rush us?"
"Not at all. It's not the Indian way, nor is it the way either of the
French, who go with them. They know your men are raw--pardon
me--inexperienced troops, and they'll put a cruel burden upon your
patience. They may wait for hours, and they'll try in every manner to
wear them out, and to provoke them at last into some rash movement.
You'll have to guard most, Captain Colden, against the temper of your
troop. If you'll take advice from one who's a veteran in the woods,
you'd better threaten them with death for disobedience of orders."
"As I said before, I'm grateful to you for any advice or suggestion,
Mr. Willet. This seems a long way from Philadelphia, and I'll confess
I'm not so very much at home here."
He crawled among his men, and Willet and Robert heard him threatening
them in fierce whispers, and their replies that they would be cautious
and patient. It was well that Willet had given the advice, as a full
hour passed without any sign from the foe. Troops even more
experienced than the city men might well have concluded it was a false
alarm, and that the forest contained nothing more dangerous than a
bear. There was no sound, and Captain Colden himself asked if the
warriors had not gone away.
"Not a chance of it," replied Willet. "They think they're certain of a
victory, and they would not dream of retiring."
"And we have more long waiting in the dark to do?"
"I warned you. There is no other way to fight such enemies. We must
never make the mistake of undervaluing them."
Captain Colden sighed. He had a gallant heart, and he and his troop
had made a fine parade through the streets of Philadelphia, before he
started for the frontier, but he had expected to meet the French in
the open, perhaps with a bugle playing, and he would charge at the
head of his men, waving the neat small sword, now buckled to his side.
Instead he lay in a black thicket, awaiting the attack of creeping
savages. Nevertheless, he put down his pride for the third time, and
resolved to trust the four who had come so opportunely to his aid, and
who seemed to be so thoroughly at home in the wilderness.
Another hour dragged its weary length away, and there was no sound of
anything stirring in the forest. The skies lightened a little as the
moon came out, casting a faint whitish tint over trees and bushes, but
the brave young captain was yet unable to see any trace of the enemy.
"Do you feel quite sure that we're still besieged?" he whispered to
Willet.
"Yes, Captain," replied the hunter, "and, as I said, patience is the
commodity we need most. It would be fatal for us to force the action,
but I don't think we have much longer to wait. Since they can't induce
us to take some rash step they're likely to make a movement soon."
"I see the bushes waving again," said Tayoga. "It is proof that the
warriors are approaching. It would be well for the soldiers to lie
flat for a little while."
Captain Colden, adhering to his resolution to take the advice of his
new friends, crept along the line, telling the men in sharp whispers
to hug the earth, a command that they obeyed willingly, as the
darkness, the silence and the mysterious nature of the danger had
begun to weigh heavily upon their nerves.
Robert saw a bead of flame among the bushes, and heard a sharp report.
A bullet cut a bough over his head, and a leaf drifted down upon his
face. The soldiers shifted uneasily and began to thrust their rifles
forward, but again the stern command of the young captain prompted by
the hunter, held them down.
"'Twas intended merely to draw us," said Willet. "They're sure we're
in this wood, but of course they don't know the exact location of our
men. They're hoping for a glimpse of the bright uniforms, but, if the
men keep very low, they won't get it."
It was a tremendous trial for young and raw troops, but they managed
to still their nerves, and to remain crouched and motionless. A second
shot was fired soon, and then a third, but like the first they were
trial bullets and both went high. Black Rifle grew impatient. The
memory of his murdered family began to press upon him once more. The
night was black, but now it looked red to him. Lying almost flat, he
slowly pulled himself forward like a great wild beast, stalking its
prey. Colden looked at him, and then at Willet, who nodded.
"Don't try to stop him," whispered the hunter, "because he'll go
anyhow. Besides, it's time for us to reply to their shots."
The dark form, moving forward without noise, had a singular
fascination for Robert. His imagination, which colored and magnified
everything, made Black Rifle sinister and supernatural. The complete
absence of sound, as he advanced, heightened the effect. Not a leaf
nor a blade of grass rustled. Presently he stopped and Robert saw the
black muzzle of his rifle shoot forward. A stream of flame leaped
forth, and then the man quickly slid into a new position.
A fierce shout came from the opposing thicket, and a half dozen shots
were fired. Bullets again cut twigs and leaves over Robert's head, but
all of them went too high.
"Do you think Black Rifle hit his mark?" whispered Robert to Tayoga.
"It is likely," replied the Onondaga, "but we may never know. I think
it would be well, Dagaeoga, for you and me to go toward the left. They
may try to creep around our flank, and we must meet them there."
Willet and Colden approved of the plan, and a half dozen of the best
soldiers went with them, the movement proving to be wise, as within
five minutes a scattering fire was opened upon that point. The
soldiers fired two rash shots, merely aiming at the reports and the
general blackness, but Robert and Tayoga quickly reduced them to
control, insisting that they wait until they saw a foe, before pulling
trigger again. Then they sank back among the bushes and remained quite
still.
Tayoga suddenly drew a deep and very long breath, which with him was
equivalent to an exclamation.
"What is it, Tayoga?" asked Robert.
"I saw a bit of a uniform, and I caught just a glimpse of a white
face."
"An officer. Then we were right in our surmise that the French are
here, leading the warriors."
"It was but a glimpse, but it showed the curve of his jaw and chin,
and I knew him. He is one who is beginning to be important in your
life, Dagaeoga."
"St. Luc."
"None other. I could not be mistaken. He is leading the attack upon
us. Perhaps Tandakora is with him. The Frenchman does not like the
Ojibway, but war makes strange comrades. That was close!"
A bullet whistled directly between them, and Tayoga, kneeling, fired
in return. There was no doubt about his aim, as a warrior uttered the
death cry, and a fierce shout of rage from a dozen throats followed.
Robert, imaginative, ready to flame up in a moment, exulted, not
because a warrior had fallen, but because the flank attack upon his
own people had been stopped in the beginning. St. Luc himself would
have admitted that the Americans, or the English, as he would have
called them, were acting wisely. The soldiers, stirred by the
successful shot, showed again a great desire to fire at the black
woods, but Robert and the Onondaga still kept them down.
A crackling fire arose behind them, showing that the main force had
engaged, and now and then the warriors uttered defiant cries. But
Robert had enough power of will to watch in front, sure that Willet
and Black Rifle were sufficient to guide the central defense. He
observed intently the segment of the circle in front of them, and he
wondered if St. Luc would appear there again, but he concluded that he
would not, since the failure of the attempted surprise at that point
would be likely to send him back to the main force.
"Do you think they'll go away and concentrate in front?" he asked
Tayoga.
"No," replied the Onondaga. "They still think perhaps that they have
only the soldiers from the city to meet, and they may attempt a rush."
Robert crept from soldier to soldier, cautioning every one to take
shelter, and to have his rifle ready, and they, being good men, though
without experience, obeyed the one who so obviously knew what he was
doing. Meantime the combat behind them proceeded with vigor, the shots
crashing in volleys, accompanied by shouts, and once by the cry of a
stricken soldier. It was evident that St. Luc was now pushing the
battle, and Robert was quite sure the attack on the flank would soon
come again.
They did not wait much longer. The warriors suddenly leaped from the
undergrowth and rushed straight toward them, a white man now in front.
The light was sufficient for Robert to see that the leader was not
St. Luc, and then without hesitation he raised his rifle and fired.
The man fell, Tayoga stopped the rush of a warrior, and the bullets of
the soldiers wounded others. But their white leader was gone, and
Indians have little love for an attack upon a sheltered enemy. So the
charge broke, before it was half way to the defenders, and the savages
vanished in the thickets.
The soldiers began to exult, but Robert bade them reload as fast as
possible, and keep well under cover. The warriors from new points
would fire at every exposed head, and they could not afford to relax
their caution for an instant.
But it was a difficult task for the youthful veterans of the forest to
keep the older but inexperienced men from the city under cover. They
had an almost overpowering desire to see the Indians who were shooting
at them, and against whom they were sending their bullets. In spite of
every command and entreaty a man would raise his head now and then,
and one, as he did so, received a bullet between the eyes, falling
back quietly, dead before he touched the ground.
"A brave lad has been lost," whispered Tayoga to Robert, "but he has
been an involuntary example to the rest."
The Onondaga spoke in his precise school English, but he knew what he
was saying, as the soldiers now became much more cautious, and
controlled their impulse to raise up for a look, after every shot.
Another man was wounded, but the hurt was not serious and he went on
with his firing. Robert, seeing that the line on the flank could be
held without great difficulty, left Tayoga in command, and crept back
to the main force, where the bullets were coming much faster.
Two of the soldiers in the center had been slain, and three had been
wounded, but Captain Colden had not given ground. He was sitting
behind a rocky outcrop and at the suggestion of Willet was giving
orders to his men. Oppressed at first by the ambush and weight of
responsibility he was exulting now in their ability to check the
savage onset. Robert was quite willing to play a little to his pride
and he said in the formal military manner:
"I wish to report, sir, that all is going well on the southern flank.
One of our men has been killed, but we have made it impossible for the
enemy to advance there."
"Thank you, Mr. Lennox," said the young captain with dignity. "We have
also had some success here, due chiefly to the good advice of
Mr. Willet, and the prowess and sharpshooting of the extraordinary man
whom you call Black Rifle. See him now!"
He indicated a dark figure a little distance ahead, behind a clump of
bushes, and, as Robert looked, a jet of fire leaped from the muzzle of
the man's rifle, followed almost immediately by a cry in the forest.
"I think he has slain more of our enemies than the rest of us
combined," said Captain Colden.
Robert shuddered a little, but those who lived on the border became
used to strange things. The constant struggle for existence hardened
the nerves, and terrible scenes did not dwell long in the mind. He
bent forward for a better look, and a bullet cut the hair upon his
forehead. He started back, feeling as if he had been seared by
lightning and Willet looked at him anxiously.
"The lead burned as it passed," the lad said, "but the skin is not
broken. I was guilty of the same rashness, for which I have been
lecturing the men on the flank."
"I caught a glimpse of the fellow who fired the shot," said Willet. "I
think it was the Canadian, Dubois, whom we saw with St. Luc."
"Tayoga saw St. Luc himself on the flank," said Robert, "and so there
is no doubt that he is leading the attack. The fact makes it certain
that it will be carried on with persistence."
"We shall be here, still besieged, when day comes," said the hunter.
"It's lucky that the cliff protects us on one side."
As if to disprove his assertion, all the firing stopped suddenly, and
for a long time the forest was silent. Fortunately they had water in
their canteens, and they were able to soothe the thirst of the wounded
men. They talked also of victory, and, knowing that it was only two or
three hours until dawn, Captain Colden's spirits rose to great
heights. He was sure now that the warriors, defeated, had gone away.
This Frenchman, St. Luc, of whom they talked, might be a great
partisan leader, but he would know when the price he was paying became
too high, and would draw off.
The men believed their captain, and, despite the earnest protest of
the foresters, began to stir in the bushes shortly before dawn. A
rifle shot came from the opposing thickets and one of them would stir
no more. Captain Colden, appalled, was all remorse. He took the death
of the man directly to himself, and told Willet with emotion that all
advice of his would now be taken at once.
"Let the men lie as close as they can," said the hunter. "The day will
soon be here."
Robert found shelter behind the trunk of a huge oak, and crouched
there, his nerves relaxing. He did not believe any further movement of
the enemy would come now. As the great tension passed for a time he
was conscious of an immense weariness. The strain upon all the
physical senses and upon the mind as well made him weak. It was a
luxury merely to sit there with his back against the bark and rest.
Near him he heard the soldiers moving softly, and now and then a
wounded man asking for water. A light breeze had sprung up, and it had
upon his face the freshness of the dawn. He wondered what the day
would bring. The light that came with it would be cheerful and
uplifting, but it would disclose their covert, at least in part, and
St. Luc might lead both French and Indians in one great rush.
"Better eat a little," said Tayoga, who had returned to the center.
"Remember that we have plenty of food in our knapsacks, nor are our
canteens empty."
"I had forgotten it," said Robert, and he ate and drank sparingly. The
breeze continued to freshen, and in the east the dawn broke, gray,
turning to silver, and then to red and gold. The forest soon stood
out, an infinite tracery in the dazzling light, and then a white fleck
appeared against the wall of green.
"A flag of truce!" exclaimed Captain Colden. "What can they want to
say to us?"
"Let the bearer of the flag appear first," suggested Willet, "and then
we'll talk with 'em."
The figure of a man holding up a white handkerchief appeared and it
was St. Luc himself, as neat and irreproachable as if he were
attending a ball in the Intendant's palace at Quebec. Robert knew that
he must have been active in the battle all through the night, but he
showed no signs of it. He wore a fine close-fitting uniform of dark
blue, and the handkerchief of lace was held aloft on the point of a
small sword, the golden hilt of which glittered in the morning
sunlight. He was a strange figure in the forest, but a most gallant
one, and to Robert's eyes a chevalier without fear and without
reproach.
"I know that you speak good French, Mr. Lennox," said Captain
Colden. "Will you go forward and meet the Frenchman? You will perhaps
know what to say to him, and, if not, you can refer to Mr. Willet and
myself."
"I will do my best, sir," said Robert, glad of the chance to meet
St. Luc face to face again. He did not know why his heart leaped so
every time he saw the chevalier, but his friendship for him was
undeniable. It seemed too that St. Luc liked him, and Robert felt
sure that whatever hostility his official enemy felt for the English
cause there was none for him personally.
Unconsciously he began to arrange his own attire of forest green,
beautifully dyed and decorated deerskin, that he might not look less
neat than the man whom he was going to meet. St. Luc was standing
under the wide boughs of an oak, his gold hilted rapier returned to
its sheath and his white lace handkerchief to its pocket. The smile of
welcome upon his face as he saw the herald was genuine.
"I salute you, Mr. Lennox," he said, "and wish you a very good
morning. I learned that you were in the force besieged by us, and it's
a pleasure to see that you've escaped unhurt. When last we met the
honors were yours. You fairly defeated me at the word play in the vale
of Onondaga, but you will admit that the savage, Tandakora, played
into your hands most opportunely. You will admit also that word play
is not sword play, and that in the appeal to the sword we have the
advantage of you."
"It may seem so to one who sees with your eyes and from your
position," said Robert, "but being myself I'm compelled to see with my
own eyes and from our side. I wish to say first, however, Chevalier de
St. Luc, that since you have wished me a very good morning I even wish
you a better."
St. Luc laughed gayly.
"You and I will never be enemies. It would be against nature," he
said.
"No, we'll never be enemies, but why is it against nature?"
"Perhaps I was not happy in my phrase. We like each other too well,
and--in a way--our temperaments resemble too much to engender a mutual
hate. But we'll to business. Mine's a mission of mercy. I come to
receive the surrender of your friends and yourself, since continued
resistance to us will be vain!"
Robert smiled. His gift of golden speech was again making its presence
felt. He had matched himself against St. Luc before the great League
of the Hodenosaunee in the vale of Onondaga, and they had spoken where
all might hear. Now they two alone could hear, but he felt that the
test was the same in kind. He knew that his friends in the thickets
behind him were watching, and he was equally sure that French and
savages in the thickets before him were watching too. He had no doubt
the baleful eyes of Tandakora were glaring at him at that very moment,
and that the fingers of the Ojibway were eager to grasp his scalp. The
idea, singularly enough, caused him amusement, because his imagination,
vivid as usual, leaped far ahead, and he foresaw that his hair would
never become a trophy for Tandakora.
"You smile, Mr. Lennox," said St. Luc. "Do you find my words so
amusing?"
"Not amusing, chevalier! Oh, no! And if, in truth, I found them so I
would not be so impolite as to smile. But there is a satisfaction in
knowing that your official enemy has underrated the strength of your
position. That is why my eyes expressed content--I would scarcely call
it a smile."
"I see once more that you're a master of words, Mr. Lennox. You play
with them as the wind sports among the leaves."
"But I don't speak in jest, Monsieur de St. Luc. I'm not in command
here. I'm merely a spokesman a herald or a messenger, in whichever way
you should choose to define me. Captain James Colden, a gallant young
officer of Philadelphia, is our leader, but, in this instance, I don't
feel the need of consulting him. I know that your offer is kindly,
that it comes from a generous soul, but however much it may disappoint
you I must decline it. Our resistance in the night has been quite
successful, we have inflicted upon you much more damage than you have
inflicted upon us, and I've no doubt the day will witness a battle
continued in the same proportion."
St. Luc threw back his head and laughed, not loud, but gayly and with
unction. Robert reddened, but he could not take offense, as he saw
that none was meant.
"I no longer wonder at my defeat by you in the vale of Onondaga," said
the chevalier, "since you're not merely a master of words, you're a
master-artist. I've no doubt if I listen to you you'll persuade me
it's not you but we who are besieged, and it would be wise for us to
yield to you without further ado."
"Perhaps you're not so very far wrong," said Robert, recovering his
assurance, which was nearly always great. "I'm sure Captain Colden
would receive your surrender and treat you well."
The eyes of the two met and twinkled.
"Tandakora is with us," said St. Luc, "and I've a notion he wouldn't
relish it. Perhaps he distrusts the mercy he would receive at the
hands of your Onondaga, Tayoga. And at this point in our dialogue,
Mr. Lennox, I want to apologize to you again, for the actions of the
Ojibway before the war really began. I couldn't prevent them, but,
since there is genuine war, he is our ally, and I must accord to him
all the dignities and honors appertaining to his position."
"You're rather deft with words yourself, Monsieur de St. Luc. Once, at
New York, I saw a juggler with balls who could keep five in the air at
the same time, and in some dim and remote way you make me think of
him. You'll pardon the illustration, chevalier, because I really mean
it as a compliment."
"I pardon gladly enough, because I see your intentions are good. We
both play with words, perhaps because the exercise tickles our fancy,
but to return to the true spirit and essence of things, I warn you
that it would be wise to surrender. My force is very much greater than
Captain Colden's, and has him hemmed in. If my Indian allies suffer
too much in the attack it will be difficult to restrain them. I'm not
stating this as a threat--you know me too well for that--but to make
the facts plain, and to avoid something that I should regret as much
as you."
"I don't think it necessary to consult Captain Colden, and without
doing so I decline your offer. We have food to eat, water to drink
and bullets to shoot, and if you care to take us you must come and do
so."
"And that is the final answer? You're quite sure you don't wish to
consult your superior officer, Captain Colden?"
"Absolutely sure. It would waste the time of all of us."
"Then it seems there is nothing more to say, and to use your own
fanciful way of putting it, we must go back from the play of words to
the play of swords."
"I see no alternative."
"And yet I hope that you will survive the combat, Mr. Lennox."
"I've the same hope for you, Chevalier de St. Luc."
Each meant it, and, in the same high manner of the day, they saluted
and withdrew. Robert, as he walked back to the thickets in which the
defenders lay, felt that Indian eyes were upon him, and that perhaps
an Indian bullet would speed toward him, despite St. Luc. Tandakora
and the savages around him could not always be controlled by their
French allies, as was to be shown too often in this war. His sensitive
mind once more turned fancy into reality and the hair on his head
lifted a little, but pride would not let him hasten his steps.
No gun was fired, and, with an immense relief, he sank down behind a
fallen log, and by the side of Colden and Willet.
"What did the Frenchman want?" asked the young captain.
"Our instant and unconditional surrender. Knowing how you felt about
it, I gave him your refusal at once."
"Well done, Mr. Lennox."
"He said that in case of a rush and heavy loss by his Indians he
perhaps would not be able to control them in the moment of victory,
which doubtless is true."
"They will know no moment of victory. We can hold them off."
"Where is Tayoga?" asked Robert of Willet.
The hunter pointed westward.
"Why, the cliff shuts off the way in that direction!" said Robert.
"Not to a good climber."
"Do you mean, then, that Tayoga is gone?"
"I saw him go. He went while you were talking with St. Luc."
"Why should Tayoga leave us?"
"He saw another smoke against the sky. It was but a faint trace. Only
an extremely keen eye would have noticed it, and having much natural
curiosity, Tayoga is now on his way to see who built the fire that
made the smoke."
"And it may have been made by friends."
"That's our hope."
Robert drew a long breath and looked toward the west. The sky was now
clear there, but he knew that Tayoga could not have made any mistake.
Then, his heart high once more, he settled himself down to wait.