“But we do not know what the trick is, Black Rifle.  Ah, they have stopped!  All of them have stopped!”

“It is not possible that they have seen any traces of us, Tayoga!  We left no trail.  Besides, this fog is so thick and heavy; it’s like a blanket hiding everything!”

“No, it is not that.  We left no trail.  They are so near that we could see them if there were no fog.  Now I hear some one walking alone in front of the company.  His step is quick, sharp and positive.  It is St. Luc, because, being the leader, he is the only one who would walk that way at such a time.  I think he wants to see for himself or rather feel just where they are.  Now he too stops, and some one walks forward to join him.  It is a Frenchman, because he has on boots.  I can hear just the faintest creak of the leather.  It must be De Courcelles.”

“It may be his comrade Jumonville.”

“No, it is De Courcelles, because he is tall while Jumonville is not, and the stride of this man who is going forward to join St. Luc is long.  It is surely De Courcelles.  St. Luc does not like him, but he has to use him, because the Frenchmen are not many, and a leader can only lead those who are at hand to be led.  Now they talk together.  Perhaps they are puzzled about the direction.”

“Well, so would I be if I had to go anywhere in such a fog.”

“They walk back together to the soldiers, and now there is no noise of footsteps.”

“I take it that they’re waiting for something.”

“Aye, Black Rifle.  They are waiting in the hope that the fog will rise.  You know how suddenly a fog can lift and leave everything bright and clear.”

“And they would see us at once.  They’ll be fairly on top of us.”

“So they would be, if the fog should go quickly away.”

“And do you think it will?” asked Black Rifle in alarm.

Tayoga laughed under his breath.

“I do not,” he replied confidently.  “There is no wind to take it away.  The great bank of mist and vapor will be heavy upon the ground and will increase in thickness.  It would not be wise for us to move, because there may be ears among them as keen as ours, and they might hear us.  Then blinded by the fog we might walk directly into the hands of prowling warriors.  Although we are not many yards from them we are safest where we are, motionless and still.”

Black Rifle also lay down and put his ear to the earth.

“I hear very well myself, although not as well as you, Tayoga,” he whispered, “and I want to notice what they’re doing as far as I can.  I make out the sound of a lot of footsteps, but I can’t tell what they mean.”

“They are sending groups in different directions, Black Rifle, looking for a way through the forest rather than for us.  They are still uncertain where they are.  Five or six men are going southward, about as many have turned toward the west, and two warriors and a Frenchman are coming toward us, the rest stay where they are.”