CHAPTER X

IN THE FOG

When Robert went into the fog and began to creep from stump to stump, his imagination leaped up at once and put a foe at every point in front of him.  Perhaps he deserved more credit for courage and daring than any of the others, because his vivid fancy foresaw all the dangers and more.  Tayoga was on his right and Willet on his left.  Daganoweda, who had all the eagerness of Black Rifle himself, was farther down the line.  Flashes of fire appeared now and then in the fog ahead of them, and bullets hummed over their heads.

Robert, essentially humane, began to share, nevertheless, the zeal of these hunters of men around him.  The French and Canadians were seeking their lives and they must strike back.  He peered through the fog, looking for a chance to fire, forgetting the wet ground, and the rain which was fast soaking him through and through.  He was concerned only to keep his rifle and powder dry.  Two flashes on his right showed that the defenders were already replying.

“We cannot go much farther, Dagaeoga,” whispered Tayoga, “or we will be among them.  I shall take this stump just ahead.”

“And I the one beside it.  I don’t mind admitting that a thick stump between you and your enemy is a good thing.”

He sank down behind his chosen bulwark, and stared through the fog.  The flashes of fire continued, but they were on his right and left, and nothing appeared directly in front of him.  A cry came from a point farther down the line.  One of the defenders had been hit and presently another fell.  Robert again saw all the dangers and more, but his mind was in complete command of his body and he watched with unfailing vigilance.  He saw Willet suddenly level his rifle across his protecting stump and fire.  No cry came in response, but he believed that the hunter’s bullet had found its target.  Tayoga also pulled trigger, but Robert did not yet see anything at which to aim, although the sound of shots from the two hostile fronts was now almost continuous.

The combat in the dim mists had a certain weird quality and Robert’s imaginative mind heightened its effect.  It was almost like the blind shooting at the blind.  A pink dot would appear in the fog, expand a little, and then go out.  There would be a sharp report, the whistling of a bullet, perhaps, and that was all.  The white men fought in silence, and, if there were any Indians with the French and Canadians they imitated them.

Robert, at last, caught a glimpse of a dusky figure about thirty yards in front of him, and, aiming his rifle, quickly fired.  He had no way of knowing that he had hit, save that no shot came in reply, but Tayoga, who was once again ear to the ground, said that their foes were drawing back a little.

“They find our fire hotter than they had expected,” he said.  “If they can shoot in the fog so can we, and the Great Bear is more than a match for them in such a contest.”