“Now that we have left,” said Robert, after a while, “I’m glad we did so.  It will be a personal pleasure for us two to warn Johnson.”

“We may carry the fate of a war with us, Dagaeoga.  Think of that!”

“I’ve thought of it.  But our friends behind us, engaged in the battle with St. Luc!  What of them?  Does Tododaho whisper to you anything about their fate?”

“They are great and skillful men, cunning and crafty in all the ways of the forest.  They have escaped great dangers a thousand times before and Tododaho tells me they will escape the thousand and first.  Be of good heart, Dagaeoga, and do not worry about them.”

They dropped almost to a walk for a while, permitting their muscles to rest.  Tayoga’s wound had healed so fast, the miracle was so nearly complete, that it did not trouble him, and, after walking two hours, they struck into the long, easy run again.  The miles dropped fast behind them, and now Johnson’s camp was not far away.  It was well for Tayoga and Robert that they were naturally so strong and that they had lived such healthy lives, as now they were able to go on all through the day, and the setting sun found them still traveling, the Onondaga leading with an eye as infallible for the way as that of a bird in the heavens.  Some time after dark they stopped for a half hour and sat on fallen logs while they took fresh breath.  Robert was apprehensive about Tayoga’s wound and expressed his solicitude.

“There is no pain,” replied the young warrior, “and there will be none.  Tododaho and Areskoui gave me the miraculous cure for a purpose.  It was that I might have the strength to be a messenger to Waraiyageh, because if he is crushed then the French and the Indians will strike at the Hodenosaunee, and they will ravage the Vale of Onondaga itself with fire and the tomahawk.  Tododaho watches over his people.”

“The stars have come out, Tayoga.  Can you see the one on which Tododaho lives?  And if so, what is he saying to you now?”

Tayoga looked up a long time.  He had received the white man’s culture, but the Indian soul was strong within him, nevertheless, and he was steeped, too, in Indian lore.  All the legends of his race, all the Iroquois religion, came crowding upon him.  A faint silvery vapor overspread the sky, the stars in myriads quivered and danced, and there in a remote corner of space was the great star on which Tododaho lived.  It hung in the heavens a silver shield, small in the distance, but vast, Tayoga knew, beyond all conception.  There were fine lines across its face, but they were only the snakes in Tododaho’s hair.

Gradually the features and countenance of the great Onondaga emerged upon the star, and the blood of Tayoga ran in a chill torrent through his veins, though the chill was not the chill of fear.  He was, in effect, meeting the mighty Onondaga of four hundred years ago, face to face.  The forest around him glided away, Robert vanished, the solid earth melted from under his feet, and he was like a being who hung in the air suspended from nothing.  He leaned his head forward a little in the attitude of one who listens, and he distinctly heard Tododaho say: