Tandakora, De Courcelles and about twenty warriors appeared in the forest, walking a little distance back from the stream, where they could see on the farther bank, and yet not be seen from it.  The moon was still obscured, but a portion of its light fell directly upon Tandakora, and Robert had never beheld a more sinister figure.  The rays, feeble, were yet strong enough to show his gigantic figure, naked save for the breech cloth, and painted horribly.  His eyes, moreover, were lighted up either in fact or in Robert’s fancy with a most wicked gleam, as if he were already clutching the scalps of the three whom he was hunting so savagely.

“Now,” whispered Tayoga, “Tododaho alone can save us.  He holds our fate in the hollow of his hand, but he is merciful as well as just.”

Robert knew their danger was of the uttermost, but often, in the extreme crises of life and death, one may not feel until afterward that fate has turned on a hair.

De Courcelles was just behind Tandakora, but the light did not fall so clearly upon him.  The savage had a hideous fascination for Robert, and the moon’s rays seemed to follow him.  Every device and symbol painted upon the huge chest stood out like carving, and all the features of the heavy, cruel face were disclosed as if by day.  But Robert noticed with extraordinary relief that the eyes so full of menace were seeking the three among the woods on the farther shore, and were paying little attention to the tree.  It was likely that neither Tandakora nor De Courcelles would dream that they were upon it, but it was wholly possible that the entire band should seek to cross that way, and reach the southern shore in the quest of their prey.

The three in the depths of the boughs and leaves did not stir.  The rising wind caused the foliage to rustle about them again.  It made the tree sway a little, too, and as Robert could not resist the temptation to look downward once, the black surface of the river seemed to be dancing back and forth beneath him.  But, save the single glance, his eyes all the while were for the Ojibway and the Frenchman.

Tandakora and De Courcelles came a little closer to the bank.  Apparently they were satisfied that no one was on the farther shore, and that they were in no danger of a bullet, as presently they emerged fully into the open, and stood there, their eyes questing.  Then they looked at the bridge, and, for a few instants, Robert was sure they would attempt the crossing upon it.  But in a minute or so they walked beyond it, and then he concluded that the crisis had passed.  After all, it would be their plan to hold their own shore, and prevent the passage of the three.