“It’s something like the battle fever which will come out along about the fourth or fifth generation,” he said.  “I suppose there’s a certain amount of talk that every man must do in his lifetime, and, having been kept in a state of silence by my parents all through my youth, I’m now letting myself loose in the woods.”

“Don’t apologize, Will,” said Colden.  “Your chatter is harmless, and it lightens the spirits of us all.”

“The talker has his uses,” said Tayoga gravely.  “My friend Lennox, known to the Hodenosaunee as Dagaeoga, is golden-mouthed.  The gift of great speech descends upon him when time and place are fitting.”

“And so you’re an orator, are you?” said Carson, looking at Robert.

Young Lennox blushed.

“Tayoga is my very good friend,” he replied, “and he gives me praise I don’t deserve.”

“When one has a gift direct from Manitou,” said the Onondaga, gravely, “it is not well to deny it.  It is a sign of great favor, and you must not show ingratitude, Dagaeoga.”

“He has you, Lennox,” laughed Wilton, “but you needn’t say more.  I know that Tayoga is right, and I’m waiting to hear you talk in a crisis.”

Robert blushed once more, but was silent.  He knew that if he protested again the young Philadelphians would chaff him without mercy, and he knew at heart also that Tayoga’s statement about him was true.  He remembered with pride his defeat of St. Luc in the great test of words in the vale of Onondaga.  But Wilton’s mind quickly turned to another subject.  He seemed to exemplify the truth of his own declaration that all the impulses bottled up in four or five generations of Quaker ancestors were at last bursting out in him.  He talked more than all the others combined, and he rejoiced in the freedom of the wilderness.

“I’m a spirit released,” he said.  “That’s why I chatter so.”

“Perhaps it’s just as well, Will, that while you have the chance you should chatter to your heart’s content, because at any time an Indian arrow may cut short your chance for chattering,” said Carson.

“I can’t believe it, Hugh,” said Wilton, “because if Providence was willing to preserve us, when we camped squarely among the Indians, put out no guards, and fairly asked them to come and shoot at us, then it was for a purpose and we’ll be preserved through greater and continuous dangers.”

“There may be something in it, Will.  I notice that those who deserve it least are often the chosen favorites of fortune.”

“Which seems to be a hit at your superior officer, but I’ll pass it over, Hugh, as you’re always right at heart though often wrong in the head.”

Although the young officers talked much and with apparent lightness, the troop marched with vigilance now.  Willet and Tayoga, and Colden, who had profited by bitter experience, saw to it.  The hunter and the Onondaga, often assisted by Robert, scouted on the flanks, and three or four soldiers, who developed rapid skill in the woods, were soon able to help.  But Tayoga and Willet were the main reliance, and they found no further trace of Indians.  Nevertheless the guard was never relaxed for an instant.