But the period of full rest had not yet come.  Captain Colden made them dig with their bayonets shallow graves for their dead, six in number.  Fluent of speech, his sensitive mind again fitting into the deep gravity of the situation, Robert said a few words above them, words that he felt, words that moved those who heard.  Then the earth was thrown in and stones and heavy boughs were placed over all to keep away the digging wolves or other wild animals.

The wounded were made as comfortable as possible before the fire, and in the light of the brilliant flames the awe created by the dead quickly passed.  Food was served and fresh water was drunk, the canteens being refilled from a spring that Tayoga found a quarter of a mile away.  Then the soldiers, save six who had been posted as guard, stretched themselves on grass or leaves, and fell asleep, one by one.  Tayoga who had made the greatest physical effort followed them to the land of slumber, but Captain Colden sat and talked with Robert and Willet, although it was now far past midnight.

The bushes parted and a dark figure, making no sound as it came, stepped into the circle of light.  It was Black Rifle and his eyes still glittered, but he said nothing.  Robert thought he saw upon his face a look of intense satisfaction and once more he shuddered a little.  The man lay down with his rifle beside him, and fell asleep, his hands still clutching his weapon.

Before dawn Daganoweda and the Mohawks came back also, and Robert in behalf of them all thanked the young chief in the purest Mohawk, and with the fine phrasing and apt allegory so dear to the Indian heart.  Daganoweda made a fitting reply, saying that the merit did not belong to him but to Manitou, and then, leaving a half dozen of his warriors to join in the watch, he and the others slept before the fire.

“It was well that you played so strongly upon the feelings of the Mohawks at that test in the vale of Onondaga, Robert,” said Willet.  “If you had not said over and over again that the Quebec of the French was once the Stadacona of the Mohawks they would not have been here tonight to save us.  They say that deeds speak louder than words, but when the same man speaks with both words and deeds people have got to hear.”

“You give me too much credit, Dave.  The time was ripe for a Mohawk attack upon the French.”

“Aye, lad, but one had to see a chance and use it.  Now, join all those fellows in sleep.  We won’t move before noon.”

But Robert’s brain was too active for sleep just yet.  While his imaginative power made him see things before other people saw them, he also continued to see them after they were gone.  The wilderness battle passed once more before him, and when he brushed his eyes to thrust it away, he looked at the sleeping Mohawks and thought what splendid savages they were.  The other tribes of the Hodenosaunee were still holding to their neutrality—­all that was asked of them—­but the Mohawks, with the memories of their ancient wrongs burning in their hearts, had openly taken the side of the English, and tonight their valor and skill had undoubtedly saved the American force.  Daganoweda was a hero!  And so was Tayoga, the Onondaga, always the first of red men to Robert.