There was no further discussion, and the whole force, throwing out skirmishers, moved cautiously northward through the great, green wilderness.  It was a fair night for a march, not enough moonlight to disclose them at a distance, and yet enough to show the way.  Robert kept close to Tayoga, who was just behind Willet, and they bore in toward the lake, until they were continually catching glimpses of its waters through the vast curtain of the forest.

Robert’s brain once more formed pictures, swift, succeeding one another like changes of light, but in high colors.  The great lake set in the mountains and glimmering under the moon had a wonderful effect upon his imagination.  It became for the time the core of all the mighty struggle that was destined to rage so long in North America.  The belief became a conviction that whoever possessed Andiatarocte and Oneadatote was destined to possess the continent.

The woods themselves, like the lake, were mystic and brooding.  Their heavy foliage was ruffled by no wind, and no birds sang.  The wild animals, knowing that man, fiercer than they, would soon join in mortal combat, had all fled away.  Robert heard only the faint crush of moccasins as the hundred, white and red, sped onward.

An hour, and a dim light showed on a slope gentler than the rest, leading down to the lake.  It was a spark so faint and vague that it might have passed to the ordinary eye as a firefly, but rangers and Mohawks knew well that it came from some portion of St. Luc’s camp and that the enemy was close at hand.  Then the band stopped and the three leaders talked together again for a few moments.

“I think,” said Willet, “that the force on land is in touch with the one in the boats, though a close union has not been effected.  In my opinion we must rush St. Luc.”

“There is no other way,” said Rogers.

“It is what I like best,” said Daganoweda.

They promptly spread out, the entire hundred in a half circle, covering a length of several hundred yards, and the whole force advanced swiftly.  Robert and Tayoga were in the center, and as they rushed forward with the others, their moccasined feet making scarcely any sound, Robert saw the fireflies in the forest increase, multiply and become fixed.  If he had felt any doubt that the camp of St. Luc was just ahead it disappeared now.  The brilliant French leader too, despite all his craft, and lore of the forest, was about to be surprised.

Then he heard the sharp reports of rifles both to right and left.  The horns of the advancing crescent were coming into contact with St. Luc’s sentinels.  Then Daganoweda, knowing that the full alarm had been given, uttered a fierce and thrilling cry and all the Mohawks took it up.  It was a tremendous shout, making the blood leap and inciting to battle.

Robert, by nature kindly and merciful, felt the love of combat rising in him, and when a bullet whistled past his ear a fury against the enemy began to burn in his veins.  More bullets came pattering upon the leaves, and one found its target in a ranger who was struck through the heart.  Other rangers and Mohawks received wounds, but under the compelling orders of their leaders they held their fire until they were near the camp, when nearly a hundred rifles spoke together in one fierce and tremendous report.