Northward they still pursued their course, and struck another and larger trail which made Tayoga look grave.

“This is the path of seven or eight warriors,” he said, “and it is likely that they are a scouting party.  They have come back, as we expected, to spy upon us and to cut off stragglers from our camp.  We will follow it a little while.”

It led south by west and seemed to go on with a definite purpose, but, after a mile or so, it divided, four warriors, as Tayoga said, going in one direction and three in the other.

“Suppose I follow those on the north a short distance while you take those on the south,” suggested Robert.

“We will do so,” said Tayoga, “and in an hour come back to this point.”

The three warriors were on the north, and, as the earth was soft, Robert saw their trail quite clearly leading steadily west by north.  His own ambition to excel as a trailer was aroused and he followed it with great energy.  Two or three times when the ground became hard and rocky he lost it, but a little search always disclosed it again, and he renewed the pursuit with increased zeal.  He went on over a hill and then into a wide valley, well grown with thickets.  Pushing his way through the bushes he sought the traces and was startled by a sound almost at his shoulder.  Keyed to the dangers of the forest he whirled instantly, but it was too late.  A powerful warrior threw himself upon him, and though Robert, by a great effort, threw him off he sprang back and another on the other side also seized him.  He was borne to the earth and a third Indian coming up, he was quickly secured.

Robert at first was so sick with chagrin that he did not think about his life.  In nine cases out of ten the warriors would have tomahawked him, and this he soon realized, thankful at the same time that he had been spared, for the present, at least.  Yet his mortification endured.  What would Tayoga say when he saw by the trail that he had been caught so easily?  He had fairly walked into the trap, and he was now a prisoner the second time.  Yet he showed the stoicism that he had learned in a forest life.  While the Indians bound his wrists tightly with rawhide thongs he stood up and looked them squarely in the face.

One of the warriors took his rifle and examined it with a pleased eye.  Another appropriated his pistol and a third helped himself to his knife and hatchet.

“I’ve four shillings in an inside pocket,” said Robert.  “If you want ’em, take ’em.”

But the warriors did not understand English and shook their heads.  Evidently they were satisfied with the spoil they had taken already.

“Which way?” asked Robert.

They replied by leading him to the northwest.  He was hopeful at first that Tayoga might rescue him as he had done once before, but the warriors were wary and powerful, and three, too, were too many for the Onondaga alone to attack.  The thought passed and by an effort of the will he resigned himself to his immediate captivity.  They did not mean to take his life, and while there was no hope for the present there was plenty of it for the future.  He could be in a far worse case.  His unfailing optimism broke through the shell of mortification, and he became resolutely cheerful.