Tayoga suddenly drew a deep and very long breath, which with him was equivalent to an exclamation.

“What is it, Tayoga?” asked Robert.

“I saw a bit of a uniform, and I caught just a glimpse of a white face.”

“An officer.  Then we were right in our surmise that the French are here, leading the warriors.”

“It was but a glimpse, but it showed the curve of his jaw and chin, and I knew him.  He is one who is beginning to be important in your life, Dagaeoga.”

“St. Luc.”

“None other.  I could not be mistaken.  He is leading the attack upon us.  Perhaps Tandakora is with him.  The Frenchman does not like the Ojibway, but war makes strange comrades.  That was close!”

A bullet whistled directly between them, and Tayoga, kneeling, fired in return.  There was no doubt about his aim, as a warrior uttered the death cry, and a fierce shout of rage from a dozen throats followed.  Robert, imaginative, ready to flame up in a moment, exulted, not because a warrior had fallen, but because the flank attack upon his own people had been stopped in the beginning.  St. Luc himself would have admitted that the Americans, or the English, as he would have called them, were acting wisely.  The soldiers, stirred by the successful shot, showed again a great desire to fire at the black woods, but Robert and the Onondaga still kept them down.

A crackling fire arose behind them, showing that the main force had engaged, and now and then the warriors uttered defiant cries.  But Robert had enough power of will to watch in front, sure that Willet and Black Rifle were sufficient to guide the central defense.  He observed intently the segment of the circle in front of them, and he wondered if St. Luc would appear there again, but he concluded that he would not, since the failure of the attempted surprise at that point would be likely to send him back to the main force.

“Do you think they’ll go away and concentrate in front?” he asked Tayoga.

“No,” replied the Onondaga.  “They still think perhaps that they have only the soldiers from the city to meet, and they may attempt a rush.”

Robert crept from soldier to soldier, cautioning every one to take shelter, and to have his rifle ready, and they, being good men, though without experience, obeyed the one who so obviously knew what he was doing.  Meantime the combat behind them proceeded with vigor, the shots crashing in volleys, accompanied by shouts, and once by the cry of a stricken soldier.  It was evident that St. Luc was now pushing the battle, and Robert was quite sure the attack on the flank would soon come again.

They did not wait much longer.  The warriors suddenly leaped from the undergrowth and rushed straight toward them, a white man now in front.  The light was sufficient for Robert to see that the leader was not St. Luc, and then without hesitation he raised his rifle and fired.  The man fell, Tayoga stopped the rush of a warrior, and the bullets of the soldiers wounded others.  But their white leader was gone, and Indians have little love for an attack upon a sheltered enemy.  So the charge broke, before it was half way to the defenders, and the savages vanished in the thickets.