“Captain Colden,” said Robert, not forgetful that an Indian likes the courtesies of life, and can take his compliments thick, “this is the great young Mohawk Chief, Daganoweda, which in our language means ’The Inexhaustible’ and such he is, inexhaustible in resource and courage in battle, and in loyalty to his friends.”

Daganoweda smiled and extended his hand in the white man’s fashion.  Young Colden had the tact to shake it heartily at once and to say in English, which the young Mohawk chief understood perfectly: 

“Daganoweda, whatever praise of you Mr. Lennox has given it’s not half enough.  I confess now although I would not have admitted it before, that if you had not come we should probably have been lost.”

He had made a friend for life, and then, without further words the two turned to the battle.  But Robert remained for a minute beside Tayoga, whose chest was still heaving with his great exertions.

“Where did you find them?” he asked.

“Many miles to the west, Lennox.  After I descended the cliff I was pursued by Huron skirmishers, and I had to shake them off.  Then I ran at full speed toward the point where the smoke had risen, knowing that the need was great, and I overtook Daganoweda and the Mohawks.  Their first smoke was but that from a camp-fire, as being in strong force they did not care who saw them, but the last, just before the sunset, was sent up as a signal by two warriors whom we left behind for the purpose.  We thought you might take it to mean that help was coming.”

“And so we did.  How many warriors has Daganoweda?”

“Fifty, and that is enough.  Already they push the Frenchman and his force before them.  Come, we must join them, Dagaeoga.  The breath has come back into my body and I am a strong man again!”

The two now quickly took their places in the battle in the night and the forest, the position of the two forces being reversed.  The soldiers and the Mohawks were pushing the combat at every point, and the agile warriors extending themselves on the flanks had already driven in St. Luc’s skirmishers.  Black Rifle, uttering fierce shouts, was leading a strong attack in the center.  The firing was now rapid and much heavier than it had been at any time before.  Flashes of flame appeared everywhere in the thicket.  Above the crackle of rifles and muskets swelled the long thrilling war cry of the Mohawks, and back in fierce defiance came the yells of the Hurons and Abenakis.

Willet joined Robert and the two, with Tayoga, saw that the soldiers fought well under cover.  The young Philadelphians, in the excitement of battle and of a sudden and triumphant reversal of fortune, were likely to expose themselves rashly, and the advice of the forest veterans was timely.  Captain Colden saw that it was taken, although two more of his men were slain as they advanced and several were wounded.  But the issue was no longer doubtful.  The weight that the Mohawks had suddenly thrown into the battle was too great.  The force of St. Luc was steadily driven northward, and Daganoweda’s alert skirmishers on the flanks kept it compressed together.