“We must give them time,” he said.  “Remember that Grosvenor is not used to the woods, and can’t go through them as fast as we can.  We must have confidence too.  We both know what a wonder Tayoga is.”

Robert sprang suddenly to his feet.

“What was that!” he exclaimed.

A sound had come out of the north, just a breath, but it was not the wind among the leaves, nor yet the distant song of a bird.  It was the faint howl of a wolf, and yet Robert believed that it was not a wolf that made it.

“Did you hear it?” he repeated.

“Aye, lad, I heard it,” replied the hunter. “’Tis a signal, and ’tis Tayoga too who comes.  But whether he comes alone, or with a friend, I know not.  To tell that we must bide here and see.”

“Should not we send our answer?”

“Nay, lad.  He knows where we are.  This is the appointed place, and the fewer signals we give the less likely the enemy is to get a hint we’re here.  I don’t think we will hear from Tayoga again until he shows in person.”

Robert said no more, knowing full well the truth of the hunter’s words, but his heart was beating hard, and he stirred nervously.  He had been drawn strongly to Grosvenor, and he knew what a horrible fate awaited him at the hands of Tandakora, unless the Onondaga saved him.  Nor would there be another chance for interruption by Tayoga or anybody else.  But the minutes passed and he took courage.  Tayoga had not yet come.  If alone he would have arrived by this time.  His slowness must be due to the fact that he had Grosvenor with him.  More minutes passed and he heard steps in the undergrowth.  Now he was sure.  Tayoga was not alone.  His moccasins never left any sound.  He stood up expectant, and two figures appeared among the bushes.  They were Tayoga, calm, his breath unhurried, a faint smile in his dark eyes, and Grosvenor, exhausted, reeling, his clothing worse torn than ever, but the light of hope on his face.  Robert uttered a cry of joy and grasped the young Englishman’s hand.

“Thank God, you are here!” he exclaimed.

“I thank God and I thank this wonderful young Indian too,” panted Grosvenor.  “It was a miracle!  I had given up hope when he dropped from the skies and saved me!”

“Sit down and get your breath, man,” said Willet.  “Then you can tell us about it.”

Grosvenor sank upon the ground, and did not speak again until the pain in his laboring chest was gone.  Tayoga leaned against a tree, and Robert noticed then that he carried an extra rifle and ammunition.  The Onondaga thought of everything.  Willet filled his cap with water at the creek, and brought it to Grosvenor, who drank long and deeply.

“Tastes good!” said the hunter, smiling.

“Like nectar,” said the Englishman, “but it’s nectar to me too to see both of you, Mr. Willet and Mr. Lennox.  I don’t understand yet how it happened.  It’s really and truly a miracle.”