“You surely don’t anticipate anything here,” said Wilton.

“I don’t know,” replied Robert, thoughtfully, “but our enemies, both French and Indians, are full of craft.  We must guard against wile and stratagem.”

Wilton looked out over the lake, where the gentle wind still blew and the rippling waters made a slight sighing sound almost like a lullaby.  The opposite cliffs rose steep and lofty, showing dimly through the dusk, but there was no threat in their dark wall.  To south and north the surface melted in the darkness, but it too seemed friendly and protecting.  Wilton shook his head.  No peril could come by that road, but he held his peace.  He had his opinion, but he would not utter it aloud against those who had so much more experience than he.

The darkness made a further gain.  The pallid moon went wholly out, and the last of the stars left.  But they had ample wood inside the camp and they built the fires higher, the flames lighting up the tanned eager faces of the men and gleaming along the polished barrels of their long rifles.  Willet had inspected the supply of ammunition and he considered it ample.  That fear was removed from his mind.

Tayoga went to the edge of the forest again, and reported no apparent movement in the force of St. Luc.  But they had built a great fire of their own, and did not mean to go away.  The attack would come some time or other, but when or how no man could tell.

Robert, who could do as he pleased, concluded to stay with Wilton on the shore of the lake, where the darkness was continually creeping closer to the shore.  The high cliffs on the far side were lost to sight and only a little of Andiatarocte’s surface could now be seen.  The wind began to moan.  Wilton shivered.

“The lake don’t look as friendly as it did an hour ago,” he said.

A crash of shots from the slope followed his words.  The war whoop rose and fell and rose again.  Bullets rattled among the stumps and on the crude stockade.

“The real attack!” said Wilton.

“Perhaps,” said Robert.

He was about to turn away and join in the defense, but an impulse from some unknown source made him stay.  Wilton’s duty kept him there, though he chafed to be on the active side of the camp.  The sharp crack of rifles showed that the defenders were replying and they sent forth a defiant cheer.

“They may creep down to the edge of the stumps and try to pick off our men,” said Robert, “but they won’t make a rush.  St. Luc would never allow it.  I don’t understand this demonstration.  It must be a cover for something else.”

He looked thoughtfully into the darkness, and listened to the moan of the lake.  Had the foe a fleet he might have expected an attack that way, but he knew that for the present the British and Americans controlled Andiatarocte.