Despite the restraint of manner, the people at Mount Johnson were full of excitement.  The news from Canada and also from the west became steadily more ominous.  The French power was growing fast and the warriors of the wild tribes were crowding in thousands to the Bourbon banner.  Robert heard again of St. Luc and of some daring achievement of his, and despite himself he felt as always a thrill at the name, and a runner also brought the news that more French troops had gone into the Ohio country.

The fourth night of their stay at Mount Johnson Robert remained awake late.  He and young Brant, the great Thayendanegea that was to be, had already formed a great friendship, the beginning of which was made easier by Robert’s knowledge of Indian nature and sympathy with it.  The two wrapped in fur cloaks had gone a little distance from the house, because Brant said that a bear driven by hunger had come to the edge of the village, and they were looking for its tracks.  But Robert was more interested in observing the Indian boy than in finding the foot prints of the bear.

“Joseph,” he said, “you expect, of course, to be a great warrior and chief some day.”

The boy’s eyes glittered.

“There is nothing else for which I would care,” he replied.  “Hark, Dagaeoga, did you hear the cry of a night bird?”

“I did, Joseph, but like you I don’t think it’s the voice of a real bird.  It’s a signal.”

“So it is, and unless I reckon ill it’s the signal of my cousin Daganoweda, returning from the great war trail that he has trod against the wild Ojibway, Tandakora.”

The song of a bird trilled from his own throat in reply, and then from the forest came Daganoweda and his warriors in a dusky file.  Robert and young Brant fell in with them and walked toward the house.  Not a word was spoken, but the eyes of the Mohawk chieftain were gleaming, and his bearing expressed the very concentrated essence of haughty pride.  At the house they stopped, and, young Brant going in, brought forth Colonel Johnson.

“Well, Daganoweda,” said the white man.

“I met Tandakora two days’ journey north of Mount Johnson,” replied the Mohawk.  “His numbers were equal to our own, but his warriors were not the warriors of the Hodenosaunee.  Six of the Ganeagaono are gone, Waraiyageh, and sixteen more have wounds, from which they will recover, but when Tandakora began his flight toward Canada eighteen of his men lay dead, eight more fell in the pursuit, which was so fast that we bring back with us forty muskets and rifles.”

“Well done, Daganoweda,” said Colonel Johnson.  “You have proved yourself anew a great warrior and chief, but you did not have to prove it to me.  I knew it long ago.  Fine new rifles, and blankets of blue or red or green have just come from Albany, half of which shall be distributed among your men in the morning.”

“Waraiyageh never forgets his friends,” said the appreciative Mohawk.