The soul of Tandakora, who walked just behind him, was full of savage joy.  It was true that Lennox had escaped, but Tayoga was an important capture.  He was of a powerful family of the Onondagas, whom the Ojibway hated.  Despite his youth, his fame as a warrior was already great, and in destroying him Tandakora would strike both at the Hodenosaunee and the white people who were his friends.  Truly, it had been the Ojibway’s lucky day.

As they went on, Tandakora’s belief that it was his day of days became a conviction.  Perhaps they would yet find Lennox, who had taken to such swift flight, and before the sun set they could burn the two friends together.  His black heart was full of joy as he laughed in silence and to himself.  In the forest to his right a bird sang, a sweet, piercing note, and he thought the shoulders of the captive in front of him quivered for a single instant.  And well they might quiver!  It was a splendid world to leave amid fire and pain, and the sweet, piercing note of the bird would remind Tayoga of all that he was going to lose.

There was no pity in the heart of Tandakora.  He was a savage and he could never be anything but a savage.  He might admire the fortitude with which Tayoga would endure the torture, but he would have no thought of remitting it on that account.  The bird sang again, or another like it, because it was exactly the same sweet, piercing note, but now Tandakora did not see the shoulders of the Onondaga quiver.  Doubtless after the first stab of pain that the bird had brought him he had steeled himself to its renewal.

Tandakora would soon see how the Onondaga could stand the fire.  The test should be thorough and complete The Ojibway chieftain was a master artist upon such occasions, and, as he continued the march, he thought of many pleasant little ways in which he could try the steel of Tayoga’s nature.  The captive certainly had shown no signs of shrinking so far, and Tandakora was glad of it.  The stronger the resistance the longer and the more interesting would be the test.

The Ojibway had in mind a certain little valley a few miles farther to the north, a secluded place where a leader of men like himself could do as he pleased without fear of interruption.  Already he was exulting over the details, and to him, breathing the essence of triumph, the wilderness was as beautiful as it had ever been to Robert and Tayoga, though perhaps in a way that was peculiarly his own.  Unlike Tayoga, he had heard little of the outside world, and he cared nothing at all for it.  His thoughts never went beyond the forest, and the customs of savage ancestors were his.  What he intended to do they had often done, and the tribes thought it right and proper.

“In half an hour, Tayoga, we will be at the place appointed,” he said.

No answer.

“You said I would die at your hand, but there is only a half hour left in which to make good the prophecy.”