Robert heard the sharp report of Tayoga’s weapon, and then a cry from the pursuing boat, saying the bullet had found its mark.

“They still come, though in a hesitating manner,” said Tayoga, “and I must even give them a second notice.”

Now Robert heard the crack of the other rifle, and the answering cry, signifying that its bullet, too, had sped home.

“They stop now,” said Tayoga.  “They heed the double command.”  He rapidly reloaded the rifles, and Robert, who saw an uncommonly thick bank of dusk ahead, paddled directly into the heart of it.  They paused there a few moments and neither saw nor heard any pursuers.  Tayoga put down the rifles, now ready again for his deadly aim, and the two kept for a long time a straight course toward the center of the lake.

CHAPTER X

THE FLIGHT OF THE TWO

Tayoga, into whose hands Robert had entrusted himself with the uttermost faith, at last said stop, and drawing the paddles into the canoe they took long, deep breaths of relief.  Around them was a world of waters, silver under the moon and stars now piercing the dusk, and the Onondaga could see the vast star on which sat the mighty chieftain who had gone away four hundred years ago to eternal life.

“O Tododaho,” he murmured, “thou hast guarded us well.”

“Where do you think we are, Tayoga?” asked Robert.

“Perhaps twenty miles from land,” replied the Onondaga, “and the farther the better.”

“True, Tayoga.  Never before did I see a big lake look so kindly.  If it didn’t require so much effort I’d like to go to the very center of it and stay there for a week.”

“Even as it is, Dagaeoga, we will wait here a while and take the long rest we need.”

“And while we’re doing nothing but swing in our great canoe, Tayoga, I want to thank you for all you’ve done for me.  I’d been a prisoner much longer than I wished.”

“It but repays my debt, Dagaeoga.  You will recall that you helped to save me from the hands of Tandakora when he was going to burn me at the stake.  My imprisonment was short, but I have been in the forest the whole winter and spring seeking to take you from Langlade.”

“All of which goes to show, Tayoga, that we must allow only one of us to be captured at a time.  The other must go free in order to rescue the one taken.”

Although Robert’s tone was light, his feeling was far from frivolous, but he had been at extreme tension so long that he was compelled to seek relief.

“How did you manage it, Tayoga?” he asked.

“In the confusion of the attack on the forts and the rejoicing that followed it was easy,” replied the Onondaga.  “When so many others were dancing and leaping it attracted no attention for me to dance and leap also, and I selected, without interference, the boat, the extra paddle, weapons and ammunition that I wished.  Areskoui and Tododaho did the rest.  Do you feel stronger now, Dagaeoga?”