“Pray God he lays it,” said Boyd between his teeth.

“Yet, we could get at him better beyond those rocky gashes,” I muttered, using my spyglass.

“Butler is there,” said the Mohican, calmly.

Both Boyd and I searched the wooded bluffs in vain for any sign of life, but the Sagamore and the other Indians quietly maintained their opinion, because, they explained, though patches of wild rice grew along the shore, the wild ducks and geese had left their feeding coves and were lying half a mile out in open water.  Also, the blue-jays had set up a screaming in the yellowing woods along the western shore, and the tall, blue herons had left their shoreward sentry posts, and now mounted guard far to the northward among the reeds, where solitary black ducks dropped in at intervals, quacking loudly.

Boyd nodded; the Oneidas drew their hatchets and blazed the trees; and we all sat down in the woods to await the coming of our advanced guard.

After a little while, our pioneers appeared, rifles slung, axes glittering on their shoulders, and immediately began to fell trees and rebuild the log bridge.  Hard on their heels came my rifle battalion; and in the red sunshine we watched the setting of the string of outposts.

Far back along the trail behind us we could hear the halted army making camp; flurries of cheery music from the light infantry bugle-horns, the distant rolling of drums, the rangers penetrating whistle, lashes of wagoners cracking, the melancholy bellow of the beef herd.

Major Parr came and talked with us for a few minutes, and went away convinced that Butler’s people lay watching us across the creek.  Ensign Chambers came a-mincing through the woods, a-whisking the snuff from his nose with the only laced hanker in the army; and: 

“Dear me!” says he.  “Do you really think we shall have a battle, Loskiel?  How very interesting and enjoyable it will be.”

“Who drilled your pretty hide, Benjamin?” said I bluntly, noting that he wore his left arm in a splint.

“Lord!” says he. “’Twas a scratch from a half-ounce ball at the Chemung.  Dear, dear, how very disappointing was that affair, Loskiel!  Most annoying of them not to stand our charge!” And, “Dear, dear, dear,” he murmured, mincing off again with all the air of a Wall Street beau ogling the pretty dames on Hanover Square.

“Where is this damned Castle?” growled Boyd.  “Chinisee, Chenussio, Genesee—­ whatever it is called?  The name keeps buzzing in my head—­ nay, for the last three days I have dreamed of it and awakened to hear it sounding in my ears, as though beside me some one stooped and whispered it.”

I pulled out our small map, which we had long since learned to distrust, yet even our General had no better one.

Here was marked the Chinisee Castle, near the confluence of Canaseraga Creek and the Chinisee River; and I showed the place to Boyd, who looked at it curiously.