“And we have found Dagaeoga again!” said the Onondaga, in a whimsical tone.

“No I have found you,” said Robert.  “You were lost from me, I was not lost from you.”

“It is the same, and I think by your waiting here at midnight that you have been in great peril.”

“So I have been, and I may be yet—­and you too.  I have been pursued by warriors, Tandakora at their head.  I have not seen them, but I know from the venom and persistence of the pursuit that he leads them.  I eluded them by coming down the cliff and hiding among the bushes here.  I stood in the water all the afternoon.”

“We thought you might be somewhere along the western shore.  After we divided for our scout about the lake, the Great Bear and I met as we had arranged, but you did not come.  We concluded that the enemy had got in the way, and so we took from its hiding place a canoe which had been left on a former journey, and began to cruise upon Andiatarocte, calling at far intervals for you.”

He spoke in his usual precise school English and in a light playful tone, but Robert knew the depth of his feelings.  The friendship of the white lad and the red was held by hooks of steel like that of Damon and Pythias of old.

“I think I heard your first call,” said Robert.  “It wasn’t very loud, but never was a sound more welcome, nor can I be too grateful for that habit you have of hiding canoes here and there in the wilderness.  It’s saved us all more than once.”

“It is merely the custom of my people, forced upon us by need, and I but follow.”

“It doesn’t alter my gratitude.  I see that the canoe is big enough for me too.”

“So it is, Dagaeoga.  You can enter it.  Take my paddle and work.”

The three adjusted their weight in the slender craft, and Robert, taking Willet’s paddle instead of Tayoga’s, they pushed out into the lake, while the great hunter sat with his long rifle across his knees, watching for the least sign that the warriors might be coming.

CHAPTER II

THE LIVE CANOE

Robert was fully aware that their peril was not yet over—­the Indians, too, might have canoes upon the lake—­but he considered that the bulk of it had passed.  So his heart was light, and, as they shot out toward the middle of Andiatarocte, he talked of the pursuit and the manner in which he had escaped it.

“I was led the right way by a bird, one that sang,” he said.  “Your Manitou, Tayoga, sent that bird to save me.”

“You don’t really believe it came for that special purpose?” asked the hunter.

“Why not?” interrupted the Onondaga.  “We do know that miracles are done often.  My nation and all the nations of the Hodenosaunee have long known it.  If Manitou wishes to stretch out his hand and snatch Dagaeoga from his foes it is not for us to ask his reason why.”

Willet was silent.  He would not say anything to disturb the belief of Tayoga, he was never one to attack anybody’s religion, besides he was not sure that he did not believe, himself.