“Shall we attack?” asked Robert.

“I think we can sting them a little,” replied Willet.  “Our numbers are few, but the force of the Ojibway is not likely to be large.  It was his purpose to strike and get away, and that’s what we’ll do.  Now, Tayoga, we’re relying upon you to get us into a good position on his flank.”

The Onondaga led them in another but much smaller circle toward the forest, from which the answering caws of the crow had come.  The way went through dense thickets but, before he reached his chosen spot, he stopped.

“Look,” he said, pointing to the earth, where there were faint traces that Robert could scarcely see and over which he would have passed, unnoticing.  “Here is where Tandakora went on his way to the ambush.  It is a little trail, and it was to be only a little ambush.  He has only about ten warriors with him.  The Ojibway has come back for revenge.  He could not bear to leave without striking at least one blow.  Perhaps he slipped away from Sharp Sword to try the ambush on his own account.”

“They can’t be far ahead,” said the hunter.

“No,” said the Onondaga.  “They will be coming back in response to my call, and I think we would better await them here.”

They disposed themselves in good order for battle, and then sank to the earth.  Light waves of air registered delicately but clearly on those wonderful eardrums of Tayoga’s.  Faint though the sound was, he understood it.  It was the careful tread of men.  Tandakora and his warriors were on the way, called by the crow.  He knew when they came within a hundred yards of where he and his companions lay, and he knew when they spread out in cautious fashion, to see what manner of friends these were who came.  He knew, too, that Tandakora would not walk into a trap, and he had not expected at any time that he would, it having been merely his purpose when he cawed like a crow to call him back to fair and honorable combat, ambush against ambush.  He noted when the thin line of detached warriors began to advance again, he was even able to trace the step of Tandakora, heavier than the others, and to discern when the Ojibway chief stopped a second time, trying to pierce the thickets with his eyes.

“Tandakora is in doubt,” he whispered to Robert.  “The call of the crow which at first seemed so friendly has another meaning now.  He is not so sure that friends are here after all, but he does not understand how an enemy happens to be behind him.  He is angry, too, that his own pretty ambush, in which he was sitting so cunningly waiting for us, is broken up.  Tandakora’s humor is far from good, but, because of it, mine is excellent.”

“You certainly learned the dictionary well when you were in our schools,” Robert whispered back, but as full as ever of admiration for Tayoga’s powers.  “Has all sound ceased now?”

“They are not stirring.  They have become quite sure that we are enemies and they wait for us to act first.”