The stumps, where the forest had been cut away, stretched for a distance of several hundred yards up the slope, and, a little distance from the breastwork, the dark shadow of Black Rifle came forward to meet them.

“Nothing yet?” asked the hunter.

“Nothing so far.  Three or four good men are with me among the stumps, but not a warrior has yet appeared.  I suppose they know we’ll be on watch here, and it’s not worth while taking so great a risk.”

They advanced to the far edge of the stump region and crouched there.  The night was now quite dark, the moon almost hidden, the stars but few, and the forest a solid black line before them.

“Why can’t Tayoga use his ears?” said Grosvenor.  “He’ll hear them, though a mile away.”

“A little farther on and he will,” replied Willet, “but we, in our turn, don’t dare to go deep into the forest.”

A hundred yards more and the Onondaga put ear to earth, but it was a long time before he announced anything.

“I hear footsteps fairly near to us,” he said at last, “and I think they are those of warriors.  They would be more cautious, but they do not believe we are outside the line of logs.  Yes, they are warriors, all warriors, there is no jingle of metal such as the French have on their coats or belts, and they are going to take a look at our position.  They are about to pass now to our right.  I also hear steps, but farther away, on our left, and I think they are those of Frenchmen.”

“Likely De Courcelles and Jumonville wanting also to look us over,” said Willet.

“There is another and larger force coming directly toward us,” continued the Onondaga, “and I think it includes both French and warriors.  This may be the attack and perhaps it would be better for us to fall back.”

They withdrew a little, but remained among the stumps, though hidden carefully.  Robert himself could now hear the advance of the large force in front of them, and he wondered what could be St. Luc’s plan of battle.  Surely he would not try to take the sawmill by storm in face of so many deadly rifles!

Black Rifle suddenly left the others and crept toward the right.  Robert’s eyes followed him, and his mind was held by a curious sort of fascination.  He knew that the scout had heard something and he almost divined what was about to occur.  Black Rifle stopped a moment or two at a stump, and then curved swiftly about it.  A dusky figure sprang up, but the war cry was choked in the throat of the Huron, and then the knife, wielded by a powerful arm, flashed.  Robert quickly turned his eyes away, because he did not wish to see the fall of the blade, and he knew that the end was certain.  Black Rifle came back in a few moments.  His dark eyes glittered, but he had wiped the knife, and it was in his belt again.

“His comrades will find him in a few minutes,” said Willet, “and we’d better not linger here.”