“I heard nothing.”

“That is not my fault, O Dagaeoga.  It is a heavy man, because I now hear his footsteps, even when they do not break anything.  He walks with some uncertainty.  Perhaps he fears lest he should make a false step, and tumble into the ravine.”

“Since you can tell so much through hearing, at such a great distance, perhaps you know what kind of a man the stranger is.  A warrior, I suppose?”

“No, he is not of our race.  He would not walk so heavily.  It is a white man.”

“One of Rogers’ rangers, then?  Or maybe it is Rogers himself, or perhaps Black Rifle.”

“It is none of those.  They would advance with less noise.  It is one not so much used to the forest, but who knows the way, nevertheless, and who doubtless has gone by this trail before.”

“Then it must be a Frenchman!”

“I think so too.”

“It won’t be St. Luc?”

“No, Dagaeoga, though your tone showed that for a moment you hoped it was.  Sharp Sword is too skillful in the forest to walk with so heavy a step.  Nor can it be either of the leaders, De Courcelles or Jumonville.  They also are too much at home in the woods.  The right name of the man forms itself on my lips, but I will wait to be sure.  In another minute he will enter the bare space almost opposite us and then we can see.”

The three waited in silence.  Although Robert had expressed doubt he felt none.  He had a supreme belief in the Onondaga’s uncanny powers, and he was quite sure that a man was moving upon the bluff.  A stranger at such a time was to be watched, because white men came but little into this dangerous wilderness.

A dark figure appeared within the prescribed minute upon the crest and stopped there, as if the man, whoever he might be, wished to rest and draw fresh breath.  The sky had lightened and he was outlined clearly against it.  Robert gazed intently and then he uttered a little cry.

“I know him!” he said.  “I can’t be mistaken.  It’s Achille Garay, the one whose name we found written on a fragment of a letter in Albany.”

“It’s the man who tried to kill you, none other,” said Tayoga gravely, “and Areskoui whispered in my ear that it would be he.”

“What on earth can he be doing here in this lone wilderness at such a time?” asked Robert.

“Likely he’s on his way to a French camp with information about our forces,” said Willet.  “We frightened Mynheer Hendrik Martinus, when we were in Albany, but I suppose that once a spy and traitor always a spy and traitor.  Since the immediate danger has moved from Albany, Martinus and Garay may have begun work again.”

“Then we’d better stop him,” said Robert.

“No, let him go on,” said Willet.  “He can’t carry any information about us that the French leaders won’t find out for themselves.  The fact that he’s traveling in the night indicates a French camp somewhere near.  We’ll put him to use.  Suppose we follow him and discover what we can about our enemies.”