“Tayoga, you talk like a foolish child.  If I hear any more such words I shall have to gag you, for two reasons, because they make a weariness in my ear, and because if anyone else were to hear you he would think you were weak of mind.  It’s your reputation for sanity that I’m thinking about most.  You and I stay here together, and when we leave we leave together.”

Tayoga said no more on the subject.  He had known all the while that Robert would not leave him, but he had wished to give him the chance.  He lay very quiet now for many hours, and Robert sitting at the door of the cave, with his rifle across his knees, was also quiet.  While a great talker upon occasion, he had learned from the Iroquois the habit of silence, when silence was needed, and it required no effort from him.

Though he did not speak he saw much.  The stream, caused by the flood, still flowed before the mouth of the cave, but it was diminishing steadily.  By the time night came it would sink to a thin thread and vanish.  The world itself, bathed and cleansed anew, was wonderfully sweet and fresh.  The light wind brought the pleasant odors of flower and leaf and grass.  Birds began to sing on the overhanging boughs, and a rabbit or two appeared in the valley.  These unconscious sentinels made him feel quite sure that no savages were near.

Curiosity about the battle between the forces of St. Luc and those of the rangers and Mohawks, smothered hitherto by his anxiety and care for Tayoga, was now strong in his breast.  It was barely possible that St. Luc had spread a successful ambush and that all of his friends had fallen.  He shuddered at the thought, and then dismissed it as too unlikely.  Tayoga fell asleep again, and when he awoke he was not only able to sit up, but to walk across the cave.

“Tomorrow,” he said, “I shall be able to sit near the entrance and load and fire a rifle as well as ever.  If an enemy should come I think I could hold the refuge alone.”

“That being the case,” said Robert, “and you being full of pride and haughtiness, I may let you have the chance.  Not many shreds of our venison are left, and as I shall have in you a raging wolf to feed, I’ll go forth and seek game.  It seems to me I ought to find it soon.  You don’t think it’s all been driven away by marching rangers and warriors, do you, Tayoga?”

“No, the rangers and warriors have been seeking one another, not the game, and perhaps the deer and the moose know it.  Why does man think that Manitou watches over him alone?  Perhaps He has told the big animals that they are safer when the men fight.  On our way here I twice saw the tracks of a moose, and it may be your fortune to find one tomorrow, Dagaeoga.”

“Not fortune, at all, Tayoga.  If I bring down one it will be due to my surpassing skill in trailing and to my deadly sharpshooting, for which I am renowned the world over.  Anyhow, I think we can sleep another night without a guard and then we’ll see what tomorrow will bring forth.”