the foe.  Every white man was armed with a rifle, a pistol, a hatchet and a knife, carrying also a pouch containing many bullets, a large horn of powder, a blanket folded tightly and a knapsack full of food.  The Mohawks were armed to the teeth in a somewhat similar fashion, and, it being midsummer and the weather warm, they were bare to the waist.  Rogers, the ranger, was in nominal command of the whole hundred, white and red, but Willet and Daganoweda in reality were on an equality, and since the three knew one another well and esteemed one another highly they were sure to act in perfect coordination.  Black Rifle, it was understood, would go and come as he pleased.  He was under the orders of no man.

“I give you no instructions,” said Colonel William Johnson to the three leaders, “because I know of none to be given under such circumstances.  No man can tell what awaits you in the forest and by the lakes.  I merely ask you in God’s name to be careful!  Do not walk into any trap!  And yet ’tis foolish of me to warn Robert Rogers, David Willet, Black Rifle and Daganoweda, four foresters who probably haven’t their equal in all North America.  But we can ill afford to lose you.  If you do not see your way to strike a good blow perhaps it would be better to come back and march with the army.”

“You don’t mean that, William, old friend,” said Willet, smiling and addressing him familiarly by his first name.  “In your heart you would be ashamed of us if we returned without achieving at least one good deed for our people.  And turning from William, my old friend, to Colonel William Johnson, our commander, I think I can promise that a high deed will be achieved.  Where could you find a hundred finer men than these, fifty white and fifty red?”

Daganoweda, who understood him perfectly, smiled proudly and glanced at the ranks of Mohawks who stood impassive, save for their eager, burning eyes.

“But be sure to bring back the good lads, Robert and Tayoga,” said Mynheer Jacobus Huysman, who stood with Colonel William Johnson.  “I would keep them from going, if I could, but I know I cannot and perhaps I am proud of them, because I know they will not listen to me.”

King Hendrik of the Mohawks, in his gorgeous colored clothes, was also present, his bronzed and aged face lighted up with the warlike gleam from his eyes.  Evidently his mind was running back over the countless forays and expeditions he had led in the course of fifty years.  He longed once more for the forests, the beautiful lakes and the great war trail.  His seventy years had not quenched his fiery spirit, but they had taken much of his strength, and so he would abide with the army, going with it on its slow march.

“My son,” he said, with the gravity and dignity of an old Indian sachem, to Daganoweda, “upon this perilous chance you carry the honor and fortune of the Ganeagaono, the great warlike nation of the Hodenosaunee.  It is not necessary for me to bid you do your duty and show to the Great Bear, the Mountain Wolf, Black Rifle and the other white men that a young Mohawk chief will go where any other will go, and if need be will die with all his men before yielding a foot of ground.  I do not bid you do these things because I know that you will do them without any words from me, else you would not be a Mohawk chief, else you would not be Daganoweda, son of fire and battle.”