“Has anything been heard of Black Rifle?” Robert asked of Tayoga.

“He has not come back,” replied the Onondaga, “but they think he will be here in the morning.”

The dawn brought instead fifty dusky figures bare to the waist and painted in all the terrible imagery of Indians who go to war.  Some of the women cried out in fright, but Tayoga said: 

“Have no fear.  These be friends.  The warriors of our great brother nation, the Ganeagaono, known to you as the Mohawks, have come to aid us.”

The leader of the Mohawks was none other than the daring young chief, Daganoweda himself, flushed with pride that he had come to the help of his white brethren, and eager as always for war.  He gravely saluted Robert, Willet and Tayoga.

“Dagaeoga is a storm bird,” he said.  “Wherever he goes battle follows.”

“Either that,” laughed Robert, “or because I follow battle.  How could I keep from following it, when I have Willet on one side of me and Tayoga on the other, always dragging me to the point where the combat rages fiercest?”

“Did you meet Black Rifle?” asked Willet.

“It was he who told us of your great need,” replied Daganoweda.  “Then while we came on at the speed of runners to help you, he continued north and east in the hope that he would meet Waraiyageh and white troops.”

“Do you know if Colonel William Johnson is in this region or near it?”

“He lay to the north with a considerable force, watching for the French and Indians who have been pouring down from Canada since their great taking of scalps by Duquesne.  Black Rifle will find him and he will come, because Waraiyageh never deserts his people, but just when he will arrive I cannot say.”

Ample food was given to the Mohawks and then, burning for battle, Daganoweda at their head, they went on the back trail in search of Tandakora, De Courcelles and their savage army.

“We could not have a better curtain between us and the enemy,” said Willet.  “War is their trade and those fifty Mohawks will sting and sting like so many hornets.”

The train resumed its flight an hour after sunrise, although more slowly now and with less apprehension, and about the middle of the afternoon the uniforms of Colonial militia appeared in the forest ahead.  All set up a great shout, because they believed them to be the vanguard of Johnson.  They were not mistaken, as a force of a hundred men, better equipped and drilled than usual, met them, at their head Colonel William Johnson himself, with the fierce young Mohawk eagle, Joseph Brant, otherwise Thayendanegea, at his side.  The somber figure of Black Rifle, who had brought him, stood not far away.

Colonel Johnson was in great good humor, thoroughly delighted to find the train safe and to meet such warm friends of his again.  He was first presented duly to Captain Colden and his young officers, paid them some compliments on their fine work, talked with them a while and then conversed more intimately with Tayoga, Robert and Willet.