A shrill whistle presently rose over all the noise of battle, and it seemed to have a meaning in it.

“What is it, Tayoga?” shouted Robert.

“It is the whistle of the Great Bear himself, and I have no doubt it is a signal to retire.  Reason tells me, too, that it is so.  We have captured as much of the enemy’s fleet as we may at this time, and we must make off with it lest we be destroyed ourselves.”

The whistle still rose shrill, penetrating and insistent, and at the other end of the line Daganoweda began to shout commands to the Ganeagaono.  Robert and Tayoga paddled away from the island, and on either side of them they saw canoes and boats going in the same direction.  Flashes of fire came from the land, where the French and Indians, raging up and down, sought to destroy those who had captured most of their fleet.  But the darkness made their aim uncertain, almost worthless, and only two or three of the invaders were struck, none mortally.  Twenty canoes and boats were captured, and the venture was a brilliant success.  Areskoui had not worked his miracles in vain, and a triumphant shout, very bitter for the enemy, burst from rangers and Mohawks.  Willet, alone in a captured canoe, paddled swiftly up and down the line, seeing like a good commander what the losses and gains might be, and also for personal reasons peering anxiously through the dusk for something that he hoped to see.  Suddenly he uttered a low cry of pleasure.

“Ah, it is you, Robert!” he exclaimed.  “And you, Tayoga!  And both unhurt!”

“Yes, except for scratches,” replied Robert.  “I think that Tayoga’s Areskoui was, in very truth, watching over us, and watching well.  In the darkness and confusion all the bullets passed us by, but I was attacked at the boat’s edge by a Frenchman, the one whom I saw in Albany, the one who I am quite sure is Achille Garay.  Luck saved me.”

“Some day we’ll deal with that Achille Garay,” said the hunter, “but now we must draw off in order, and see to our wounded.”

He passed on in his canoe, and met Daganoweda in another.  The young Mohawk chieftain was dripping from seven wounds, but they were all in the shoulders and forearms and were slight, and they were a source of pride to him rather than inconvenience.

“’Twas well done, Daganoweda,” said Willet.

“It is a deed of which the Ganeagaono in their castles will hear with pride,” said the Mohawk.  “The fleet of Onontio and his warriors, or most of it, is ours, and we dispute with them the rulership of the lake.”

“Great results, worthy of such a risk.  I’m sorry we didn’t take every boat and canoe, because then we might have cooped up St. Luc on his island, and have destroyed his entire force.”

“It is given to no man, Great Bear, to achieve his whole wish.  We have done as much as we hoped, and more than we expected.”

“True, Daganoweda!  True!  What are your losses?”