“You’re right, of course, Tayoga, but it’s a tremendous temptation.”

The Onondaga put his hand on his lips to indicate that even a whisper now was dangerous, and the two sank once more into an utter silence.  The chest of Tandakora still presented a great and painted target, and Robert’s hand lay on the trigger, but his will kept him from pressing it.  Yet he did not watch the Ojibway chief with more eagerness than he bestowed upon the Frenchman, Achille Garay.

Garay’s face was far from prepossessing.  In its way it was as evil as that of Tandakora.  He had sought Robert’s life more than once.  In the naval battle he had seen the Frenchman pull trigger upon him.  Why?  Why had he singled him out from the others in the endeavor to make a victim of him?  There must be some motive, much more powerful than that of natural hostility, and he believed now if they were discovered that not Tayoga but he would be the first object of Garay’s attack.

But Tandakora and his men passed on, bearing to the right and from the main force.  Robert and Tayoga saw their figures vanish among the bushes and heard the fall of their moccasins a little longer, and then the question of their own course presented itself to them.  Should they go back to Rogers with a warning of the hostile flankers, or should they follow Tandakora and see what he meant?  They decided finally in favor of the latter course, and passing quietly from their covert, began to trail those who were seeking to trail a foe.  The traces led toward the west, and it was not hard to follow them, as Tandakora and his men had taken but little care, evidently not thinking any scouting rangers or Mohawks might be near.

Robert and Tayoga followed carefully for several hundred yards; then they were surprised to see the trail curve sharply about, and go back toward the main force.

“We must have passed them,” said Robert, “although we were too far away to see each other.”

“It would seem so,” said the Onondaga.  “Tandakora may have come to the conclusion that no enemy is on his extreme flank, and so has gone back to see if any has appeared nearer the center.”

“Then we must follow him in his new course.”

“If we do what we are sent to do we will follow.”

“Lead on, Tayoga.”

The Onondaga stooped that the underbrush might hide him, advanced over the trail, and Robert was close behind.  The thickets were very still.  All the small wild creatures, usually so numerous in them, had disappeared, and there was no wind.  Tayoga saw that the imprints of the moccasins were growing firmer and clearer, and he knew that Tandakora and his men were but a short distance ahead.  Then he stopped suddenly and he and Robert crouched low in the thicket.

They had heard the faint report of rifles directly in front, and they believed that Tandakora had come into contact with a party of rangers or Mohawks.  As they listened, the sound of a second volley came, and then the echo of a faint war whoop.  Tayoga rose a little higher, perhaps expecting to see something in the underbrush, and a rifle flashed less than forty yards away.