Robert clearly saw St. Luc again, standing up in his boat, and apparently giving orders to the fleet, using his small sword, as a conductor wields a baton, though the moonlight seemed to flash in fire along the blade as he pointed it here and there.  He beheld something fierce and unconquerable in the man’s attitude and manner.  He even imagined that he could see his face, and he knew that the eye was calm, despite defeat and loss.  St Luc, driven from the field, would be none the less dangerous than if he had been victor upon it.

The whole Indian fleet formed in a half circle and the Chevalier ceased to wave orders with his sword.  Then he drew himself up, stood rigidly erect, despite his unstable footing, faced the land, and, using the sword once more, gave a soldier’s salute to the foe.  The act was so gallant, so redolent of knightly romance that despite themselves the rangers burst into a mighty cheer, and the Mohawks, having the Indian heart that always honored a brave foe, uttered a long and thrilling whoop of approval.

Robert, carried away by an impulse, sprang upon a rock and whirled his rifle around his head in an answering salute.  St. Luc evidently saw, and evidently, too, he recognized Robert, as he lifted his sword in rejoinder.  Then the Indians, bent to their paddles, and the fleet, hanging together, swept around the island and out of sight.  But they knew that the French and Indian force landed there, as fires soon blazed upon its heavily-wooded crest, and they saw dusky figures passing and repassing before the flames.

“The victory has been given to us tonight,” said Tayoga gravely to Robert, “but Manitou has not allowed us to complete it.  Few triumph over St. Luc, and, though his manner may have been gay and careless, his heart burns to win back what he has lost.”

“I take it you’re right, Tayoga,” said Robert.  “His is a soul that will not rest under defeat, and I fancy St. Luc on the island is a great danger.  He can get at us and we can’t get at him.”

“It is true, Dagaeoga.  If we strike we must strike quickly and then be off.  This, for the time being, is the enemy’s country, yet I think our leaders will not be willing to withdraw.  Daganoweda, I know, will want to push the battle and to attack on the island.”

The Onondaga’s surmise was correct.  The triumph of the rangers and the Mohawks, although not complete, was large, as at least one-third of St. Luc’s force was slain, and the three leaders alike were eager to make it yet larger, having in mind that in some way they could yet reach the French and Indian force on the island.  So they built their own fires on the slope and the Mohawks began to sing songs of triumph, knowing that they would infuriate the foe, and perhaps tempt him to some deed of rashness.

“Did you see anything of Tandakora?” asked Robert of Tayoga.  “I know it’s no crime to wish that he fell.”

“No, it’s no crime, Dagaeoga,” replied the Onondaga soberly, “and my wish is the same as yours, but this time we cannot have it.  I saw him in one of the boats as they passed around the island.”