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!”