THE WILDERNESS AGAIN
The full hospitality of Colonel Strong's house was for Robert, and he
sat late that night, listening to the talk of his host, merchant and
warrior, and politician too. There were many like him in the colonies,
keen men who had a vision for world affairs and who looked far into the
future. He was so engrossed in these matters that he did not notice that
he was doing nearly all the talking, but Robert was content to listen.
As Robert sat with Colonel Strong he felt to the full the reality of his
own world to which he had returned, and his long life on the island
became for the time a dream, something detached, that might have
happened on another planet. Yet its effects remained. His manner was
grave, and his thoughts were those of one much beyond his years. But
mingled with his gravity were an elation and a sanguine belief in his
future. He had survived so much that coming dangers could not daunt him.
The special coach departed the next morning and Robert sat upon the seat
with the driver. All things were auspicious. The company in the coach
was good, the driver was genial and the weather fine. It was a long trip
and they slept several nights in inns by the way, but Robert always had
pleasant memories of that journey. He was seeing his country under the
most favorable conditions, well cultivated, trim and in the full
freshness of spring.
They reached Albany and his heart beat hard once more. He realized now
that he was one risen from the dead. His reception by Colonel Strong had
shown him that, but he believed the joy of his friends would be great
when they saw him. The coach drew up at the George Inn, and, leaving it
there, he started through the streets, taking no baggage.
It was the same busy little city with its thrifty Dutch burghers. The
tide of war had brought added prosperity to Albany, and he saw about him
all the old signs of military preparations. It was yet a base for the
great campaigns to the northward. Evidently the fear of an attack by
Montcalm had passed, as he did not see apprehension or depression in the
faces of the people.
He went directly to the house of Master Jacobus Huysman, that staunch
friend of his and Tayoga's, and the solid red brick building with its
trim lawns and gardens looked as neat and comfortable as ever. It was
hard to believe that he had gone away, that he had been so long on an
island. Nothing had been changed except himself and he felt different,
much older.
He lifted the heavy brass knocker, and struck thrice. The sound of
footsteps came from within, and he knew at once that they were
Caterina's. Middle-aged, phlegmatic and solid she had loved both him and
Tayoga, despite tricks and teasing, but he knew her very phlegm would
keep her from being startled too much. Only an earthquake could shake
the poise of Caterina.
The door swung slowly open. The nature of Caterina was cautious and she
never opened a door quickly.
"Good-morning, Caterina," said Robert. "Is Master Jacobus in? I stayed
away a bit longer than I intended, and I wish to make my apologies to
him, if I've caused him any inconvenience."
The mouth of Caterina, a wide cleft, opened full as slowly as the door
and full as steadily, and her eyes seemed to swell at the same time. But
she did not utter a word. Words might be forming in her throat, though
they were not able to pass her lips. But Robert saw amazement and joy in
her eyes. She knew him. That was evident. It was equally evident that
she had been struck dumb, so he grasped her large and muscular hand and
said:
"I've come back, Caterina, a trifle late 'tis true, but as you see I'm
here. It's not my fault that I've been delayed a little. I hope that
Master Jacobus is well. I know he's in his study as the odor of his pipe
comes floating to me, a pleasant odor too, Caterina; I've missed it."
"Aye! Aye!" said Caterina. It was all she could manage to say, but
suddenly she seized his hand, and fell to kissing it.
"Don't do that, Caterina!" exclaimed Robert, pulling his hand away.
"You're glad to see me and I'm glad to see you. I'm no ghost. I'm solid
and substantial, at least ten pounds heavier than I was when I went away
suddenly at the invitation of others. And now, Caterina, since you've
lost your voice I'll go in and have a talk with Master Jacobus."
Caterina's mouth and eyes were still opening wider and wider, but as
Robert gave her an affectionate pat on the shoulder she managed to gasp:
"You haf come back! you wass dead, but you wouldn't stay dead."
"Yes, that's it, Caterina, I wouldn't stay dead, or rather I was lost,
but I wouldn't stay lost. I'll go in now and see Master Jacobus."
He walked past her toward the odor of the pipe that came from the study
and library of Mr. Huysman, and Caterina stood by the door, still
staring at him, her mouth opening wider and wider. No such extraordinary
thing had ever happened before in the life of Caterina, and yet it was a
happy marvel, one that filled her with gratitude.
The door of Mr. Huysman's room was open and Robert saw him very clearly
before he entered, seated in a great chair of mahogany and hair cloth,
smoking his long hooked pipe and looking thoughtfully now and then at
some closely written sheets of foolscap that he held in his hand. He was
a solid man of the most solid Dutch ancestry, solid physically and
mentally, and he looked it. Nothing could shake his calm soul, and it
was a waste of time to try to break anything to him gently. Good news or
bad news, it was well to be out with it, and Robert knew it. So he
stepped into the room, sat down in a chair near that of Mr. Huysman and
said:
"I hope, sir, that I've not caused you any inconvenience. I didn't mean
to keep you waiting so long."
Master Jacobus turned and regarded him thoughtfully. Then he took one
long puff at his pipe, removed it from his mouth, and blew the smoke in
spirals towards the ceiling.
"Robert," he said, after an inspection of a full minute, "why were you
in such a hurry about coming back? Are you sure you did everything you
should before you came? You wass sometimes a hasty lad."
"I can't recall, sir, anything that I've neglected. Also, I wiped my
shoes on the porch and I shut the door when I came in, as Caterina used
to bid me do."
"It iss well. It shows that you are learning at last. Caterina and I haf
had much trouble teaching manners to you and that young Onondaga scamp,
Tayoga."
"As we grow older, sir, we have more desire to learn. We're better able
to perceive the value of good advice."
Master Jacobus Huysman put the stem of his long pipe back in his mouth,
took the very longest draught upon it that he had ever drawn, removed it
again, sent the smoke rushing in another beautiful spear of spirals
toward the ceiling, and, then, for the first and last time in his life,
he lost all control over himself. Springing to his feet he seized Robert
by both hands and nearly wrung them off.
"Robert, my lost lad!" he exclaimed. "It iss you! it iss really you! I
knew that you wass dead, and, yet when you walked into the room, I knew
that it wass you alive! Your face iss changed! your look iss changed!
your manner iss changed! you are older, but I would have known you
anywhere and at the first glance! You do not understand how much you
took out of my life when you went, and you do not know how much you have
brought back when you come again! I do not ask why you left or where you
have been, you can tell it all when you are ready! It iss enough that
you are here!"
Tears rose in Robert's eyes and he was not ashamed of them. He knew that
his welcome would be warm, but it had been even warmer than he had
expected.
"I did not go away of my own accord, sir," he said. "I could not have
been so heartless as that. I've a wonderful tale to tell, and, as soon
as you give me all the news about my friends, I'll tell it."
"Take your time, Robert, take your time. Maybe you are hungry. The
kitchen iss full of good things. Let me call Caterina, and she will
bring you food."
The invitation of the good Mynheer Jacobus, a very natural thought with
him, eased the tension. Robert laughed.
"I thank you, sir," he said, "but I cannot eat now. Later I'll show you
that I haven't lost my ability at the trencher, but I'd like to hear now
about Tayoga and Dave."
"They're gone into the northern forests to take part in the great
expedition that's now arranging against Quebec. We hunted long, but we
could discover no trace of you, not a sign, and then there was no
conclusion left but the river. You had been murdered and thrown into the
Hudson. Your body could not disappear in any other way, and we wass sure
it must have been the spy Garay who did the foul deed. Only Tayoga kept
any hope. He said that you wass watched over by Manitou and by his own
patron saint, Tododaho, and though you might be gone long, Manitou and
Tododaho would bring you back again. But we thought it wass only a way
he had of trying to console himself for the loss of his friend. Willet
had no hope. I wass sorry, sorry in my soul for David. He loved you as a
son, Robert, and the blow wass one from which he could never have
recovered. When all hope wass gone he and Tayoga plunged into the
forest, partly I think to forget, and I suppose they have been risking
the hair on their heads every day in battle with the French and
Indians."
"It is certain that they won't shirk any combat," said Robert. "Valiant
and true! No one was ever more valiant and true than they are!"
"It iss so, and there wass another who took it hard, very hard. I speak
of Benjamin Hardy of New York. I wrote him the letter telling him all
that we knew, and I had a reply full of grief. He took it as hard as
Willet."
"It was almost worth it to be lost a while to discover what good and
powerful friends I have."
"You have them! You have them! And now I think, Robert, that the time
draws nigh for you to know who you are. No, not now! You must wait yet a
little longer. Believe me, Robert, it iss for good reasons."
"I know it, Mr. Huysman! I know it must be so! But I know also there is
one who will not rejoice because I've come back! I mean Adrian Van
Zoon!"
"Why, Robert, what do you know of Adrian Van Zoon?"
"I was told by a dying man to beware of him, and I've always heard that
dying men speak the truth. And this was a dying man who was in a
position to know. I'm sure his advice was meant well and was based on
knowledge. I think, Mr. Huysman, that I shall have a large score to
settle with Adrian Van Zoon."
"Well, maybe you have. But tell me, lad, how you were lost and how you
came back."
So, Robert told the long story again, as he had told it to Elihu Strong,
though he knew that he was telling it now to one who took a deeper and
more personal interest in him than Colonel Strong, good friend though
the latter was. Jacobus Huysman had settled back into his usual calm,
smoking his long pipe, and interrupting at rare intervals with a short
question or two.
"It iss a wonderful story," he said, when Robert finished, "and I can
see that your time on the island wass not wholly lost. You gained
something there, Robert, my lad. I cannot tell just what it iss, but I
can see it in you."
"I feel that way myself, sir."
"No time iss ever lost by the right kind of a man. We can put every hour
to some profit, even if it iss not the kind of profit we first intended.
But I will not preach to one who hass just risen from the dead. Are you
sure, Robert, you will not have a dinner now? We have some splendid fish
and venison and sausage and beef! Just a plate of each! It will do you
good!"
Robert declined again, but his heart was very full. He knew that Master
Jacobus felt deep emotion, despite his calmness of manner, and this was
a way he had of giving welcome. To offer food and to offer it often was
one of the highest tributes he could pay.
"I could wish," he said, "that you would go to New York and stay with
Benjamin Hardy, but as you will not do it, I will not ask it. I know
that nothing on earth can keep you from going into the woods and joining
Willet and Tayoga, and so I will help you to find them. Robert Rogers,
the ranger leader, will be here to-morrow, and he starts the next day
into the north with a force of his. He can find Willet and Tayoga, and
you can go with him."
"Nothing could be better, sir. I know him well. We've fought side by
side in the forest. Is he going to lead his rangers against Quebec?"
"I do not know. Maybe so, and maybe he will have some other duty, but in
any event he goes up by the lakes, and you're pretty sure to find Tayoga
and Willet in that direction. I know that you will go, Robert, but I
wish you would stay."
"I must go, and if you'll pardon me for saying it, sir, you won't wish
in your heart that I would stay. You'd be ashamed of me, if I were to do
so."
Mr. Huysman made no answer, but puffed a little harder on his pipe. Very
soon he sent for Master Alexander McLean, and that thin dry man, coming
at once, shook hands with Robert, released his hand, seized and shook it
a second and a third time with more energy than ever. Mr. McLean, an
undemonstrative man, had never been known to do such a thing before, and
he was never known to do it again. Master Jacobus regarded him with
staring eyes.
"Alexander iss stirred! He iss stirred mightily to make such a display
of emotion," he said under his breath.
"Robert hass been away on an island all by himself, eight or nine months
or more," he added, aloud.
"And of course," said Master McLean, who had recovered his usual calm,
"he forgot all his classical learning while he was there. I do not know
where his island is, but desert islands are not conducive to a noble
education."
"On the contrary, sir," said Robert, "I learned more about good
literature when I was there than I ever did anywhere else, save when I
sat under you."
"'Tis clearly impossible. In such a place you could make no advancement
in learning save by communing with yourself."
"Nevertheless, sir, happy chance gave me a supply of splendid books. I
had Shakespeare, Marlowe, Beaumont and Fletcher, translations of Homer
and of other great Greeks and Latins."
Mr. McLean's frosty eyes beamed.
"What a wonderful opportunity!" he said. "Eight or nine months on a
desert island with the best of the classics, and nobody to disturb you!
No such chance will ever come to me, I fear. Which book of the Iliad is
the finest, Robert?"
"The first, I think. 'Tis the noble opening, the solemn note of tragedy
that enchains the attention of us all."
"Well answered. But I wish to make a confession to you and Jacobus, one
that would shock nearly all scholars, yet I think that I must speak it
out, to you two at least, before I die. There are times when my heart
warms to the Odyssey more than it does to the Iliad. The personal appeal
is stronger in the Odyssey. There is more romance, more charm. The
interest is concentrated in Ulysses and does not scatter as it does in
the Iliad, where Hector is undoubtedly the most sympathetic figure. And
the coming home of Ulysses arouses emotion more than anything in the
Iliad. Now, I have made my confession--I suppose there is something in
the life of every man that he ought to hide--but be the consequences
what they may I am glad I have made it."
Mr. McLean rose from his chair and then sat down again. Twice that day
he had been shaken by emotion as never before, once by the return of the
lad whom he loved, risen from the dead, and once by the confession of a
terrible secret that had haunted him for years.
"When I was on the island I reread both books in excellent
translations," said Robert, the utmost sympathy showing in his voice,
"and I confess, sir, though my opinion is a poor one, that it agrees
with yours. Moreover, sir, you have said it ahead of me. I shall
maintain it, whenever and wherever it is challenged."
Mr. McLean's frosty blue eyes gleamed again, and his sharp strong chin
set itself at a firm defiant angle. It was clear that he was relieved
greatly.
"Have a pipe, Alexander," said Master Jacobus. "A good pipe is a
splendid fortifier of both body and soul, after a great crisis."
Mr. McLean accepted a pipe and smoked it with methodical calm. Robert
saw that a great content was settling upon both him and Mr. Huysman,
and, presently, the burgher began to tell him news of vital importance,
news that they had not known even in Boston when he left. It seemed that
the Albany men had channels through Canada itself, by which they learned
quickly of great events in the enemy's camp.
"Wolfe with his fleet and army will be in the Gulf of St. Lawrence very
soon," said Master Jacobus, "and by autumn they will certainly appear
before Quebec. Whatever happens there it will not be another Duquesne,
nor yet a Ticonderoga. You must know, Robert, that the great merchants
of the great ports get the best of information from England and from
France too, because it is to their interest to do so. Mr. Pitt iss a
great minister, the greatest that England hass had in centuries, a very
great man."
"Colonel Strong said the same, sir."
"Colonel Strong hass the same information that we have. He iss one of
our group. And the new general, Wolfe, iss a great man too. Young and
sickly though he may be, he hass the fire, the genius, the will to
conquer, to overcome everything that a successful general must have. I
feel sure that he will be more than a match for Montcalm, and so does
Alexander. As you know, Robert, Wolfe iss not untried. He was the soul
of the Louisbourg attack last year. People said the taking of the place
was due mostly to him, and they've called him the 'Hero of Louisbourg.'"
"You almost make me wish, sir, that I had accepted the offer of Captain
Whyte and had gone on to Louisbourg."
"Do not worry yourself. If you find Willet and Tayoga, as you will, you
can reach Quebec long before Wolfe can achieve much. He hass yet to
gather his forces and go up the St. Lawrence. Armies and fleets are not
moved in a day."
"Do you know what Rogers' immediate duties are?"
"I do not, but I think he iss to help the movement that General Amherst
is going to conduct with a strong force against Ticonderoga and Crown
Point. Oh, Mr. Pitt hass a great plan as becomes a great man, and Canada
will be assailed on all sides. I hear talk too that Rogers will also be
sent to punish the St. Francis Indians who have ravaged the border."
They talked a while longer, and Robert listened, intent, eager. The
burgher and the schoolmaster had the vision of statesmen. They were
confident that England and the colonies would achieve complete success,
that all defeats and humiliations would be wiped away by an overwhelming
triumph. Their confidence in Pitt was wonderful. That sanguine and
mighty mind had sent waves of energy and enthusiasm to the farthest
limits of the British body politic, whether on one side of the Atlantic
or the other, and it was a singular, but true, fact, that the wisest
were those who believed in him most.
Mr. McLean went away, after a while, and Robert took a walk in the town,
renewing old acquaintances and showing to them how one could really rise
from the dead, a very pleasant task. Yet he longed with all his soul for
the forest, and his comrades of the trail. His condition of life on the
island had been mostly mental. It had been easy there to subsist. His
physical activities had not been great, save when he chose to make them
so, and now he swung to the other extreme. He wished to think less and
to act more, and he shared with Mr. Huysman and Mr. McLean the belief
that the coming campaign would win for England and her colonies a
complete triumph.
He too thrilled at the name of Pitt. The very sound of the four letters
seemed to carry magic everywhere, with the young English officers on the
ship, in Boston, in Albany, and he had noticed too that it inspired the
same confidence at the little towns at which they stopped on their way
across Massachusetts. Like a blast on the horn of the mighty Roland, the
call of Pitt was summoning the English-speaking world to arms. Robert
little dreamed then, despite the words of Colonel Strong, that the great
cleavage would come, and that the call would not be repeated until more
than a century and a half had passed, though then it would sound around
the world summoning new English-speaking nations not then born.
Rogers, the famous ranger, upon whom Tayoga had bestowed the name
Mountain Wolf, arrived the next day, bringing with him fifty men whom he
supplied with ammunition for one of his great raids. The rest of his
band was waiting for him near the southern end of Lake George, and he
could stay only a few hours in Albany. He gave Robert a warm welcome.
"I remember you well, Mr. Lennox," he said. "We've had some hard
fighting together around Lake George against St. Luc, Tandakora and the
others, but I think the battle line will shift far northward now.
Amherst is going to swoop down on Ticonderoga and Crown Point, and Sir
William Johnson, well of his wound, is to march against Niagara. I'll
punish the St. Regis Indians for all their barbarities. Oh, it's to be a
great campaign, and I'll tell you a secret too."
"What is it?" asked Robert.
"We're to have St. Luc against us near the lakes once more. Could you
ask for a better antagonist?"
Robert smiled at the man's eagerness, but his heart throbbed, as always,
at the mention of the great French chevalier's name.
"He'll give us all we can do," he said.
"That's why I want to meet him," said Rogers. "The whole northern
frontier is going to be ablaze."
Robert left that very day with Rogers and his men. Mr. Huysman purchased
for him a splendid equipment which he forced him to accept, and he and
Mr. McLean bade him good-by, while Caterina wept in her apron.
"Don't fear for me," said Robert, who was much moved. "Mr. Pitt will
bring us all victory. His first efforts failed at Ticonderoga, as we
know, but now he has all his forces moving on all fronts, and he's bound
to succeed. You've said that yourselves."
"So we have, Robert," said Mr. Huysman, "and we shall watch for your
return, confident that you'll come."
The next day the rangers, Robert with them, were far to the north of
Albany, and then they plunged into the deep woods. Robert rejoiced at
the breath of the forest now in its freshest green, not yet faded by
summer heats. He had grown to love his island, but it was not like the
mighty wilderness of North America, in which he had spent so much of his
life. He kept at the head of the column, side by side with the Mountain
Wolf, and his step was so strong and elastic that Rogers took approving
notice.
"You like the woods, Robert," he said. "Well, so do I. It's the only
place where a man can live a free life."
"I like the woods and the towns too," said Robert. "Each in its place.
Where do we camp to-night?"
"By a little lake, a few miles farther on, and as we're not yet in the
Indian country we'll make it a fire camp."
The lake covered only two or three acres, but it was set in high hills,
and it was as clear as crystal. A great fire was built near the shore,
two or three of the rangers caught plenty of fish for all, and they were
broiled over the coals. Game had become so plentiful, owing to the
ravages of the war, that a fat deer was shot near the water, and, when
they added coffee and samp from their own stores, they had a feast.
Robert ate with a tremendous appetite, and then, wrapping himself in his
blanket, lay down under a tree. But he did not go to sleep for a long
time. He was full of excitement. All the omens and signs told him that
he was coming into the thick of events once more, and he felt also that
he would soon see Willet and Tayoga again. He would encounter many
perils, but for the present at least he did not fear them. Much of his
vivid youth was returning to him.
He saw the surface of the lake from where he lay, a beautiful silver in
the clear moonlight, and he could even perceive wild fowl swimming at
the far edge, unfrightened by the presence of man, or by the fires that
he built. The skies were a great silver curve, in which floated a
magnificent moon and noble stars in myriads. There was the one on which
Tayoga's Tododaho lived, and so powerful was Robert's fancy that he
believed he could see the great Onondaga sage with the wise snakes in
his hair. And there too was the star upon which Hayowentha lived and the
Onondaga and the Mohawk undoubtedly talked across space as they looked
down on their people.
Out of the forest came the calls of night birds, and Robert saw one
shoot down upon the lake and then rise with a fish in its talons. He
almost expected to see the dusky figure of Tandakora creep from the
bush, and he knew at least that the Ojibway chief would be somewhere
near the lakes. Beyond a doubt they would encounter him and his warriors
as they pressed into the north. Rogers, noticing that he was not asleep,
sat down beside him and said:
"I suppose, Mr. Lennox, when you find Tayoga and Willet that you'll go
with Amherst's army against Ticonderoga and Crown Point. A great force
has gathered to take those places."
"I'm not sure," said Robert, "I think it depends largely upon what
Tayoga and Dave have planned, but I want to go against Quebec, and I
think they will too. Still, I'd like to see our defeat at Ticonderoga
atoned for. It's a place that we ought to have, and Crown Point too."
"A scout that I sent out has come in," said Rogers, "and he says he's
seen an Indian trail, not big enough to be of any danger to us, but it
shows we'll have 'em to deal with before long, though this is south of
their usual range. I hear an owl hooting now, and if I didn't know it
was a real owl I could think it was Tandakora himself."
"I hear it too," said Robert, "and I'm not so sure that it's a real owl.
Do you think that any band will try to cut us off before we reach
Amherst and the lake?"
"I can't say, but my faith in the owl, Robert, is beginning to shake
too. It may be an Indian belonging to the band that the scout told
about, but I still don't think we're in any danger of attack. We're in
too small force to try it down here, but they might cut off a
straggler."
"I'd like to help keep the watch."
"We won't need you to-night, but I may call on you to-morrow night, so
it's my advice to you to sleep now."
The Mountain Wolf walked away to look at his outposts--he was not one
ever to neglect any precaution--and Robert, knowing that his advice was
good, closed his eyes, trying to sleep. But his hearing then became more
acute, and the long, lonesome note of the owl came with startling
dreams. Its cry was in the west, and after a while another owl in the
north answered it. Robert wished that Tayoga was with him. He would
know, but as for himself he could not tell whether or no the owls were
real. They might be Indians, and if so they would probably, when they
gathered sufficient force, throw themselves across the path of the
rangers and offer battle. This presence too indicated that Tayoga and
Willet might be near, because it was against just such bands that they
guarded, and once more his heart beat fast.
He opened his eyes to find that the beauty of the night had deepened, if
that were possible. The little lake was molten silver, and the forest
seemed silver too under silver skies. The moon, large and benignant,
smiled down on the earth, not meant, so Robert thought, for battle. But
the two owls were still calling to each other, and now he was convinced
that they were Indians and not owls. He was really back in the
wilderness, where there was no such thing as peace, the wilderness that
had seldom ever known peace. But believing with Rogers that the force
was too strong to be attacked he fell asleep, at last, and awoke to
another bright summer day.
They resumed the advance with great caution. Rogers did not go directly
toward the force of Amherst, but bore more toward the west, thinking it
likely that he would have to meet the force of Sir William Johnson who
was to coöperate with Prideaux in the attack on Niagara.
"Sir William has entirely recovered from the wound he received at the
Battle of Lake George," Rogers said to Robert, "and he's again taking a
big part in the war. We have Louisbourg and Duquesne, and now, if we
take Niagara and Ticonderoga and Crown Point, we can advance in great
force on Quebec and Montreal."
"So we can," said Robert, "but there are those owls again, hooting in
the daytime, and I'm quite sure now they're Indians."
"I think so too, and it begins to look as if they meant an attack. Every
mile here brings us rapidly nearer to dangerous country. I'll send out
two more scouts."
Two of his best men were dispatched, one on either flank, but both came
in very soon with reports of imminent danger. Trails were seen, and they
had grown in size. One found the trace of a gigantic moccasin, and it
was believed to be that of Tandakora. Many scouts knew his footstep.
There was no other so large in the north. Rogers' face was grave.
"I think they're going to try to cut us off before we reach the bigger
part of my force," he said. "If so, we'll give 'em a fight. You'll be in
the thick of it much earlier than you expected, Robert."
Robert also was inclined to that opinion, but he was still confident
they could not be menaced by any very large party, and he remained in
that belief the next night, when they made their camp on a little hill,
covered with bushes, but with open country on every side, an excellent
site for defense. They ate another plentiful supper, then put out their
fire, posted sentinels and waited.
Robert was among the sentinels, and Rogers, who had made him second in
command until he was reunited with his main force, stood by him in the
first hour while they waited. There was again a splendid moon and plenty
of fine stars, shedding a brilliant glow over the forest, and they
believed they could see any enemy who tried to approach, especially as
the hill was surrounded on all sides by a stretch of open.
"It's a good place for a camp," said the Mountain Wolf, looking around
with approval. "I believe they'll scarce venture to attack us here."
"But there are the owls," said Robert. "They're at least thinking about
it."
The long mournful cry came from the depths of the forest, and then it
was repeated a second and a third time at other points.
"The owls that send forth those calls," said Robert, "don't sit on the
boughs of trees."
"No," said Rogers; "it's the warriors, not a doubt of it, and they'll be
stealing in on us before long."
But several hours passed before there was any stir in the forest beyond
the open. Then a rifle cracked there, but no one heard the impact of the
bullet. Rogers laughed scornfully.
"Their lead fell short," he said. "How could they expect to hit any of
us at such a range, and they not the best of marksmen even in the
daylight. They can't hope to do any more than to keep us awake."
The rangers made no reply to the shot, they would not deign it with such
notice, but the guard was doubled, while the others remained in their
blankets. A half hour more passed, and a second shot came, but from a
point much nearer.
"They're trying to steal forward through the grass that grows tall down
there," said Rogers. "They're more bent on battle than I thought they'd
be. It seems that they mean to stalk us, so we'll just stalk 'em back."
Four of the rangers, fine sharpshooters, edged their way along the
slope, and, when the warriors among the trees fired, pulled trigger by
the flash of their rifles. It was difficult to hit any one in such a
manner, and more than twenty shots were fired by the two sides, before a
death shout was uttered. Then it came from the forest, and Robert knew
that one warrior was gone. He was taking no present part in the battle
himself, held like the bulk of the force in reserve, but he was an
intent observer. Rogers, the daring leader of the rangers, still
standing by his side, took it all as a part of his daily work, which in
truth it was.
"I think it was Thayer who brought down that warrior," he said. "Thayer
is one of the bravest men I ever saw, and a great scout and trailer.
He'd be worthy to go with Willet and Tayoga and you. Ah, there goes a
second death shout! Any one who seeks a brush with these boys of mine
does it at his own risk."
He spoke proudly, but one of his own men came creeping back presently
with a wound in his shoulder. Rogers himself bound it up and the man lay
down in his blanket, confident that in a week he could resume his place
in the campaign. Those who lived the life he did had, of necessity,
bodies as hard as iron.
The deadly skirmishing died down repeatedly, but, after a little while,
it was always renewed. Though the warriors were getting the worst of it,
they persisted in the attack, and Robert knew they must have some
motive, not yet evident.
"Either they hope to frighten us back, or they mean to hold us until a
much bigger force comes up," he said.
"One or the other," said Rogers, "but I don't believe any big band would
venture down here. The hope to frighten us seems the more likely."
The combat, drawn out long and with so little result, annoyed Robert
intensely. As he saw it, it could have no decisive effect upon anything
and was more than futile, it was insensate folly. The original time set
for his watch was over long since and he wanted to roll himself in his
blanket and find slumber, but those ferocious warriors would not let
him. Despite their losses, they still hung around the hill, and, giving
up the attempt to stalk the defenders through the grass, fired long
shots from the cover of the forest. Another ranger was wounded by a
chance bullet, but Rogers, skillful and cautious, refused to be drawn
from the shelter of the bushes on the hill.
Thus the fitful and distant combat was waged until dawn. But with the
rise of a brilliant sun, throwing a clear light over the whole
wilderness, the warriors drew off and the rangers resumed their march.