Tayoga suddenly struck him a smart blow across his bowed back, and spoke to him fiercely in harsh, guttural Huron.  Robert did not understand the words, but they sounded like a stern rebuke for poor work with the paddle.  The blow and the words stimulated him, keyed him to a supreme effort as an actor.  All his histrionic temperament flared up at once.  He made a poor stroke with the paddle, threw up much surplus water, and, as he cowered away from Tayoga, he corrected himself hastily.  Tayoga uttered a sharp rebuke again, but did not strike a second time.  That would have been too much.  Robert’s next stroke was fine and sweeping, and he heard Jumonville say in French which many of the Indians understood: 

“Go more toward the center of the lake and take a place in the line.”

Tayoga and Robert obeyed dumbly, passing Jumonville’s boat at a range of five or six yards, going a little beyond the line, and, turning about as if to make a curve that would keep them from striking any other canoe.  Again Robert made a false stroke with the paddle, causing the canoe to rock dangerously, and now, Tayoga, fully justified by the fierce code of the forest in striking him again, snatched his own paddle out of the water and gave him a smart rap with the flat of it across the back, at the same time upbraiding him fiercely in Huron.

“Dolt!  Fool!” he exclaimed.  “Will you never learn how to hold your paddle?  Will you never know the stroke?  Will you tip us both into the water at such a time, when the messengers of the enemy are seeking to steal through?  Do better with the paddle or you shall stay at home with the old women, and work for the warriors!”

Robert snarled in reply, but he did not repay the blow.  He made another awkward sweep that sent them farther on the outward curve, and he heard Jumonville’s harsh laugh.  He was still the superb actor.  His excitement was real, and he counterfeited a nervousness and jerkiness that appeared real also.  One more wild stroke, and they shot farther out.  Jumonville angrily ordered them to return, but Robert seemed to be possessed by a spell of awkwardness, and Tayoga craftily aided him.

“Come back!” roared Jumonville.

Robert and Tayoga were fifteen yards away, and the great blanket of fog was enclosing them.

“Now!  Now, Dagaeoga!” whispered the Onondaga tensely.  “We paddle with all our might straight toward the south!”

Two paddles wielded by skillful and powerful arms flashed in the water, and the canoe sped on its way.  A shout of anger rose behind them, and Robert distinctly heard Jumonville say in French: 

“After them!  After them!  It was the messengers who stole by!  They have tricked us!”

Those words were sweet in the ears of young Lennox.  He had played the actor, and the reward, the saving of their lives, had been paid.  It was one of their greatest triumphs and the savor of it would endure long.  The very thought gave fresh power to his arm and back, and he swept his paddle with a strength that he had never known before.  The canoe skimmed the water like a bird and fairly flew in their chosen course.