“Although St. Luc beat us when we were with Rogers,” he said, “I think we’ll hold him here.  We’ve certain advantages that will help us mightily.”

“Thanks to you and your comrades for bringing us such timely warning,” repeated Colden.  “I’ll confess that I did not suspect any enemy was nearer than Champlain, and neither we nor our superiors at Albany have feared an attack here.”

“It’s sure to come,” said Willet.

Grosvenor, refreshed and reinvigorated, was taking an active share in the preparations.  He had smoothed and brushed his uniform with scrupulous care, and despite the great hardships through which he had passed, looked once more neat and trim.  He had returned to his incarnation as a trim young British officer.  Adaptable and liking the Americans, equipped moreover with a certain experience of the border, he was at once on the best of terms with Colden, Wilton, Carson and the others, and was, in truth, one of them.  Wilton found him a belt and a small sword, which he buckled on, and which as a badge of office gave him a certain moral strength, making him in fact a thoroughly happy man that morning.

Black Rifle, after food, had slid quietly into the forest to spy out the enemy.  Robert, flexible, vivid, his imagination always alive, was with Tayoga, helping him with the breastworks, and keeping an eye at the same time on the forest.  The lake behind him stretched away, vast, peaceful and beautiful, but he seldom looked at it now.  He did not anticipate danger that way.  It would come through the woods.

A gradual slope, hemmed in on either side by high cliffs and only a few hundred yards wide, led to the point on which the saw mill stood.  St. Luc must approach by the slope.  The cliffs were impossible, and, the longer he looked at it, the better Robert liked the position.  Daring men such as Colden had could hold it against a much larger force.  Let St. Luc come, he would find a brave and ready defense.

“Dagaeoga thinks we can hold the saw mill even against Sharp Sword,” said Tayoga.

“How do you know I think it?”

“Because it is printed on Dagaeoga’s face.  When Dagaeoga’s fancy is alive, which is nearly all the time, his eyes speak and they tell one very clearly what he thinks.  His eyes say that the slope is narrow; St. Luc can come that way only; we have here more than one hundred and fifty good rifles; and in face of the storm of lead that we can send against him he cannot rush us.  That is what the eyes and face of Dagaeoga say.”

“You’re right, Tayoga, that is what my brain thinks, though I didn’t know it was printed on my face.  But it’s all the easier for you to read it, because you’re probably thinking the same that I do.”

“I do, Dagaeoga.  Since St. Luc is not able to effect a surprise, he has a great task before him, though he will persist in it, because he wants to destroy our force and our boats also.”