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.”