“Leave the subject of the Hodenosaunee,” said Colonel Johnson cheerily.  “I know that you lads are prouder of your birth than the old Roman patricians ever were, but Mr. Willet, Mr. Lennox and I were not fortunate enough to be born into the great League, and you will perhaps arouse our jealousy or envy.  Come, gentlemen, sit you down and eat and drink.”

His Mohawk wife seconded the request and food and drink were served.  Robert saw that the bower was divided into two rooms the one beyond them evidently being a sleeping chamber, but the evidences of comfort, even luxury, were numerous, making the place an oasis in the wilderness.  Colonel Johnson had wine, which Robert did not touch, nor did Tayoga nor Daganoweda, and there were dishes of china or silver brought from England.  He noticed also, and it was an unusual sight in a lodge in the forest, about twenty books upon two shelves.  From his chair he read the titles, Le Brun’s “Battles of Alexander,” a bound volume of The Gentleman’s Magazine, “Roderick Random,” and several others.  Colonel Johnson’s eyes followed him.

“I see that you are a reader,” he said.  “I know it because your eyes linger upon my books.  I have packages brought from time to time from England, and, before I came upon this expedition, I had these sent ahead of me to the bower that I might dip into them in the evenings if I felt so inclined.  Reading gives us a wider horizon, and, at the same time, takes us away from the day’s troubles.”

“I agree with you heartily, sir,” said Robert, “but, unfortunately, we have little time for reading now.”

“That is true,” sighed Colonel Johnson.  “I fear it’s going to be a long and terrible war.  What do you see, Joseph?”

Young Brant was sitting with his face to the door, and he had risen suddenly.

“A runner comes,” he replied.  “He is in the forest beyond the creek, but I see that he is one of our own people.  He comes fast.”

Colonel Johnson also arose.

“Can it be some trouble among the Ganeagaono?” he said.

“I think not,” said the Indian boy.

The runner emerged from the wood, crossed the creek and stood in the doorway of the bower.  He was a tall, thin young Mohawk, and he panted as if he had come fast and long.

“What is it, Oagowa?” asked Colonel Johnson.

“A hostile band, Hurons, Abenakis, Caughnawagas, and others, has entered the territory of the Ganeagaono on the west,” replied the warrior.  “They are led by an Ojibway chief, a giant, called Tandakora.”

Robert uttered an exclamation.

“The name of the Ojibway attracts your attention,” said Colonel Johnson.

“We’ve had many encounters with him,” replied the youth.  “Besides hating the Hodenosaunee and all the white people, I think he also has a personal grievance against Mr. Willet, Tayoga and myself.  He is the most bitter and persistent of all our enemies.”