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.