“It is odd how quickly the camp sank from sight,” he said.

“It is because we are in the heart of a great fog,” said Tayoga.  “Since it was thick enough to hide the battle it is thick enough also to hide the camp and us from each other.  But, Dagaeoga, it is a friendly fog, as it conceals us from our enemies also.”

“That’s so, Tayoga, but I’m thinking this fog will hold dangers for us too.  St. Luc is not likely to neglect the lake, and he’ll surmise that we’ll send for help.  We’ve had experience on the water in fogs before, and you’ll have to use your ears as you did then.”

“So I will, Dagaeoga.  Suppose we stop now, and listen.”

But nothing of a hostile nature came to them through the mists and vapors, and, resuming the paddles again, they bore more toward the center of the lake, where they thought they would be likely to escape the cruising canoes of the enemy, if any should be sent out by St. Luc.  They expected too that the fog would thin there, but it did not do so, seeming to spread over the full extent of Andiatarocte.

“How long do you think the fog will last?” asked Robert.

“All day, I fear,” replied Tayoga.

“That’s bad.  If any of our friends should be on the shore we won’t be able to see ’em.”

“But we have to make the best of it, Dagaeoga.  We may be able to hear them.”

The fog was the greatest they had ever seen on Andiatarocte, seeming to ooze up from the depths of the waters, and to spread over everything.  The keenest eyes, like those of Robert and Tayoga, could penetrate it only a few yards, and it hung in heavy, wet folds over their faces.  It was difficult even to tell direction and they paddled very slowly in a direction that they surmised led to the south.  After a while they stopped again that Tayoga might establish a new listening post upon the water, though nothing alarming yet came to those marvelous ears of his.  But it was evident that he expected peril, and Robert also anticipated it.

“A force as large as St. Luc’s is sure to have brought canoes overland,” said young Lennox, “and in a fog like this he’ll have them launched on the lake.”

“It is so,” said Tayoga, using his favorite expression, “and I think they will come soon.”

They moved on once more a few hundred yards, and then, when the Onondaga listened a long time, he announced that the hostile canoes were on the lake, cruising about in the fog.

“I hear one to the right of us, another to the left, and several directly ahead,” he said.  “Sharp Sword brought plenty of canoes with him and he is using them.  I think they have formed a line across the lake, surmising that we would send a message to the south.  Sharp Sword is a great leader, and he forgets nothing.”

“They can’t draw a line that we won’t pass.”

Now they began to use their paddles very slowly and gently, the canoe barely creeping along, and Tayoga listening with all his powers.  But the Onondaga was aware that his were not the only keen ears on the lake, and that, gentle as was the movement of the paddies that he and Robert held, it might be heard.