CHAPTER X
IN THE FOG
When Robert went into the fog and began to creep from stump to stump,his imagination leaped up at once and put a foe at every point infront of him. Perhaps he deserved more credit for courage and daringthan any of the others, because his vivid fancy foresaw all thedangers and more. Tayoga was on his right and Willet on his left.Daganoweda, who had all the eagerness of Black Rifle himself, wasfarther down the line. Flashes of fire appeared now and then in thefog ahead of them, and bullets hummed over their heads.
Robert, essentially humane, began to share, nevertheless, the zeal ofthese hunters of men around him. The French and Canadians were seekingtheir lives and they must strike back. He peered through the fog,looking for a chance to fire, forgetting the wet ground, and the rainwhich was fast soaking him through and through. He was concerned onlyto keep his rifle and powder dry. Two flashes on his right showed thatthe defenders were already replying.
"We cannot go much farther, Dagaeoga," whispered Tayoga, "or we willbe among them. I shall take this stump just ahead."
"And I the one beside it. I don't mind admitting that a thick stumpbetween you and your enemy is a good thing."
He sank down behind his chosen bulwark, and stared through the fog.The flashes of fire continued, but they were on his right and left,and nothing appeared directly in front of him. A cry came from a pointfarther down the line. One of the defenders had been hit and presentlyanother fell. Robert again saw all the dangers and more, but his mindwas in complete command of his body and he watched with unfailingvigilance. He saw Willet suddenly level his rifle across hisprotecting stump and fire. No cry came in response, but he believedthat the hunter's bullet had found its target. Tayoga also pulledtrigger, but Robert did not yet see anything at which to aim,although the sound of shots from the two hostile fronts was now almostcontinuous.
The combat in the dim mists had a certain weird quality and Robert'simaginative mind heightened its effect. It was almost like the blindshooting at the blind. A pink dot would appear in the fog, expand alittle, and then go out. There would be a sharp report, the whistlingof a bullet, perhaps, and that was all. The white men fought insilence, and, if there were any Indians with the French and Canadiansthey imitated them.
Robert, at last, caught a glimpse of a dusky figure about thirty yardsin front of him, and, aiming his rifle, quickly fired. He had noway of knowing that he had hit, save that no shot came in reply, butTayoga, who was once again ear to the ground, said that their foeswere drawing back a little.
"They find our fire hotter than they had expected," he said. "If theycan shoot in the fog so can we, and the Great Bear is more than amatch for them in such a contest."
The whole line crept forward and paused again behind another row ofstumps. A general volley met them and they found protection none toosoon. Bullets chipped little pieces off the stumps or struck in theground about them. But Robert knew that they had been fired largelyat random, or had been drawn perhaps by a slight noise. There was astrong temptation to return the fire in a like manner, but he had thestrength of mind to withhold his aim for the present, and not shootuntil he had a sure target.
Yet the dim battle in the fog increased in volume. More skirmishersfrom the forces of St. Luc came up, and the line of fire spread toboth left and right. A yell was heard now and then, and it wasevident that the Indians in large numbers were coming into the combat.Willet's band was reenforced also from the camp, and his line extendedto meet that of the foe. Rifles cracked incessantly, the white fogwas sprinkled with pink dots, and, above the heads of the men, it wasdarkened by the smoke that rose from the firing. At rare intervals adeep cheer from a borderer replied to the savage war whoop.
A man four stumps from Robert was hit in the head and died withouta sound, but Willet, firing at the flash of the rifle that slew him,avenged his loss. A bullet grazed Robert's head, cutting off two locksof hair very neatly. Its passage took his breath for a moment or two,and gave him a shock, but he recovered quickly, and, still controllinghis impulse to pull trigger in haste, looked for something at which toaim.
The fog had not lifted at all, but by gazing into its heart a longtime, Robert was able to see a little distance. Now and then thefigure of an enemy, as he leaped from the shelter of one stump toanother, was outlined dimly, but invariably there was not enough timefor a shot. Soon he made out a large stump not very far ahead of him,and he saw the flash of a rifle from it. He caught a glimpse only ofthe hands that held the weapon, but he believed them to be a whiteman's hands and he believed also that the man behind the stump was oneof the best French sharpshooters.
Robert resolved to bring down the Frenchman, who presently, whenfiring once more, might then expose enough of himself for a target. Hewaited patiently and the second shot came. He saw the hands again, thearms, part of one shoulder and the side of the head, and taking quickaim he pulled the trigger, though he was satisfied that his bullet hadmissed.
But the flame of battle was lighted in Robert's soul. Hating nobodyand wishing good to all, he nevertheless sought to kill, because someone was seeking to kill him, and because killing was the business ofthose about him. What came to be known later as mass psychology tookhold of him. All his mental and physical powers were concentrated onthe single task of slaying an enemy. The affair now resolved itselfinto a duel between single foes.
Deciding to await a third shot from his enemy, he made his positionbehind the stump a little easier, poised, as it were, ready to throwevery faculty, physical and mental, into his reply to that expectedthird shot. He was quite sure, too, that he would have a chance,because the man had exposed so much more of himself at the secondshot than at the first, and his escape from the bullets would make himexpose yet more at the third. His heart began to throb hard, and hispulses were beating fast. The battle was still going on about him, buthe forgot all the rest of it, the shots, the shouts, the flashes, andremembered only his own part. He judged that in another minute the manwould show himself. So believing, he laid his rifle across his stump,cocked it, and was ready to take aim and fire in a few seconds.
His foe's head appeared, after just about the delay that he hadexpected, and Robert's hand sprang to the trigger at the very momentthe man pulled his own. The bullet hummed by his cheek. His fingercontracted and then it loosened. A sudden acuteness of vision, or achance thinning of the fog at that point, enabled him to see the man'sface, and he recognized the French partisan, Charles Langlade, knownalso to the Indians as the Owl, who, with his wife, the Dove, had onceheld him in a captivity by no means unkind.
His humane instincts, his gratitude, his feeling for another flaredup even in that moment of battle and passion, when the man-huntingimpulse was so strong. His aim, quick as it was, had been sure anddeadly, but, deflecting the muzzle of the rifle a shade, his fingercontracted again. The spurt of fire leaped forth and the bullet sangby the ear of Langlade, singing to him a little song of caution as itpassed, telling such a wary partisan as he that his stump was a veryexposed stump, dangerous to the last degree, and that it would bebetter for him to find one somewhere else.
Robert did not see the Owl go away, but he was quite sure that he hadgone, because it was just the sort of thing that such a skilled forestfighter would do. The fog thickened again, and, in a few more minutes,both lines shifted somewhat. Then he had to watch new stumps at newpoints, and his thoughts were once more in tune with those about him,concentrated on the battle and the man-hunt.
A bullet tipped his ear, and he saw that it came from a stump hardlyvisible in the fog. The sharpshooter was not likely to be Langladeagain, and, at once, it became Robert's ambition to put him out ofaction. No consideration of mercy or humanity would restrain him now,if he obtained a chance of a good shot, and he waited patiently forit. Evidently this new sharpshooter had detected his presence also,and the second duel was on.
The man fired again in a minute or two, and the bullet chipped veryclose. He was so quick, too, that Robert did not get an o
pportunity toreturn his fire, but he recognized the face and to his great surprisesaw that it was De Courcelles who had taken a place in line with theskirmishers. Rage seized him at once. This was the man who had triedto trick him to his death in that affair with the bully, Boucher, atQuebec. He was shaken with righteous anger. All the kindliness andmercy that he had felt toward Langlade disappeared. He was sure, too,that De Courcelles knew him and was trying his best to kill him.
Robert peered over his stump and sought eagerly for a shot. Hecould play at that game as well as De Courcelles, but his enemy wascautious. It was some time before he risked another bullet, and thenRobert's, in reply, missed, though he also had been untouched. Hisanger increased. Although he had little hate in his composition hecould not forget that this man De Courcelles had been a party to aninfamous attempt upon his life, and even now, in what amounted to aduel, was seeking to kill him. His own impulses, under such a spur,and for the moment, were those of the slayer. He used all the skillthat he had learned in the forest to secure an opportunity for thetaking of his foe's life.
Robert sought to draw De Courcelles' fire again, meanwhile havingreloaded his own rifle, and he raised his cap a little above the edgeof the stump. But the trick was too old for the Frenchman and he didnot yield to it. Taking the chance, he thrust up his face, droppingback immediately as De Courcelles' bullet sang over his head. Then hesprang up and was in time to pull trigger at his enemy, who fell back.
Robert was able to tell in the single glimpse through the fog that DeCourcelles was not killed. The bullet had struck him in the shoulder,inflicting a wound, certainly painful but probably not dangerous,although it was likely to feed the man's hate of Robert. Even so,young Lennox was glad now that he had not killed him, that his deathwas not upon his hands; it was enough to disable him and to drive himout of the battle.
The fighting grew once more in volume and fury. Rifles crackedcontinuously up and down the line. The war whoop of the Indians wasincessant, and the deep cheer of the borderers replied to it. ButRobert saw that the end of the combat was near; not that the rage ofman was abated, but because nature, as if tired of so much strife, wasputting in between a veil that would hide the hostile forces from eachother. The fog suddenly began to thicken rapidly, rolling up from thelake in great, white waves that made figures dim and shadowy, even afew paces away.
If the fighting went on it would be impossible to tell friend fromfoe, and Willet at once sent forth a sharp call which was repeated upand down the line. The French leaders took like action, and, by mutualconsent, the two forces fell apart. The firing and the shouts ceasedabruptly and a slow withdrawal was begun. The fog had conquered.
"Is Dagaeoga hurt?" asked Tayoga.
"Untouched," replied Robert.
"I saw that you and the Frenchman, De Courcelles, were engaged in abattle of your own. I might have helped you, but if I know you, youdid not wish my aid."
"No, Tayoga. It was man to man. I confess that while our duel was onI was filled with rage against him, and tried my best to kill, but nowI'm glad I gave him only a wound."
"Your hate flows away as De Courcelles' blood flows out."
"If you want to put it that way. But do you hear anything of theenemy, Tayoga? Fog seems to be a conductor of sound now and then."
"Nothing except the light noises of withdrawal. The retreatingfootsteps become fainter and fainter, and I think we shall have peacefor to-day. They might fire bullets at random against the camp, butSt. Luc will not let them waste lead in such a manner. No, Dagaeoga,we will lie quiet now and dress our wounds."
He was right, as the firing was not renewed, though the pickets,stationed at short intervals, kept as sharp a watch as they could inthe fog, while the others lay by the fires which were now built higherthan usual. Colden was hopeful that St. Luc would draw off, but Tayogaand Black Rifle, who went out again into the fog, reported no sign ofit. Beyond a doubt, he was prepared to maintain a long siege.
"We must get help," said Willet. "We're supposed to control LakeGeorge and we know that forces of ours are at the south end, wherethey've advanced since the taking of Fort William Henry. We'll have tosend messengers."
"Who are they to be?" asked Colden.
"Robert and Tayoga are most fit. You have plenty of boats. They cantake a light one and leave at once, while the fog holds."
Colden agreed. Young Lennox and the Onondaga were more than willing,and, in a half hour, everything was ready for the start. A strongcanoe with paddles for two was chosen and they put in it their rifles,plenty of ammunition and some food.
"A year from now, if the war is still going on, I'll be going with youon such errands," said Grosvenor confidently.
"Red Coat speaks the truth. He learns fast," said Tayoga.
"I won't tell you lads to be careful, because you don't need anyadvice," said Willet.
Many were at the water's edge, when they pushed off, and Robert knewthat they were followed by the best of wishes, not only for theirsuccess but for themselves also. A few strokes of the paddles and thewhole camp, save a luminous glow through the fog, was gone. A few morestrokes and the luminous glow too departed. The two were alone oncemore in the wilderness, and they had little but instinct to guide themin their perilous journey upon the waters. But they were not afraid.Robert, instead, felt a curious exaltation of the spirit. He wassupremely confident that he and Tayoga would carry out their mission,in spite of everything.
"It is odd how quickly the camp sank from sight," he said.
"It is because we are in the heart of a great fog," said Tayoga."Since it was thick enough to hide the battle it is thick enoughalso to hide the camp and us from each other. But, Dagaeoga, it is afriendly fog, as it conceals us from our enemies also."
"That's so, Tayoga, but I'm thinking this fog will hold dangers for ustoo. St. Luc is not likely to neglect the lake, and he'll surmise thatwe'll send for help. We've had experience on the water in fogs before,and you'll have to use your ears as you did then."
"So I will, Dagaeoga. Suppose we stop now, and listen."
But nothing of a hostile nature came to them through the mists andvapors, and, resuming the paddles again, they bore more toward thecenter of the lake, where they thought they would be likely to escapethe cruising canoes of the enemy, if any should be sent out by St.Luc. They expected too that the fog would thin there, but it did notdo so, seeming to spread over the full extent of Andiatarocte.
"How long do you think the fog will last?" asked Robert.
"All day, I fear," replied Tayoga.
"That's bad. If any of our friends should be on the shore we won't beable to see 'em."
"But we have to make the best of it, Dagaeoga. We may be able to hearthem."
The fog was the greatest they had ever seen on Andiatarocte,seeming to ooze up from the depths of the waters, and to spread overeverything. The keenest eyes, like those of Robert and Tayoga, couldpenetrate it only a few yards, and it hung in heavy, wet folds overtheir faces. It was difficult even to tell direction and they paddledvery slowly in a direction that they surmised led to the south. Aftera while they stopped again that Tayoga might establish a new listeningpost upon the water, though nothing alarming yet came to thosemarvelous ears of his. But it was evident that he expected peril, andRobert also anticipated it.
"A force as large as St. Luc's is sure to have brought canoesoverland," said young Lennox, "and in a fog like this he'll have themlaunched on the lake."
"It is so," said Tayoga, using his favorite expression, "and I thinkthey will come soon."
They moved on once more a few hundred yards, and then, when theOnondaga listened a long time, he announced that the hostile canoeswere on the lake, cruising about in the fog.
"I hear one to the right of us, another to the left, and severaldirectly ahead," he said. "Sharp Sword brought plenty of canoes withhim and he is using them. I think they have formed a line across thelake, surmising that we would send a message to the south. Sharp Swordis a great leader, and he fo
rgets nothing."
"They can't draw a line that we won't pass."
Now they began to use their paddles very slowly and gently, the canoebarely creeping along, and Tayoga listening with all his powers. Butthe Onondaga was aware that his were not the only keen ears on thelake, and that, gentle as was the movement of the paddies that he andRobert held, it might be heard.
"The canoe on our right is coming in a little closer to us," hewhispered. "It is a very large canoe, because it holds four paddles.I can trace the four separate sounds. They try to soften their strokeslest the hidden messenger whom they want to catch may hear them, butthey cannot destroy the sound altogether. Now, the one on the left isbearing in toward us also. I think they have made a chain across thelake, and hope to keep anything from passing."
"Can you hear those ahead of us?"
"Very slightly, and only now and then, but it is enough to tell usthat they are still there. But, Dagaeoga, we must go ahead even ifthey are before us; we cannot think of turning back."
"No such thought entered my head, Tayoga. We'll run this gauntlet."
"That was what I knew you would say. The canoes from both right andleft still approach. I think they carry on a patrol in the fog, andmove back and forth, always keeping in touch. Now, we must go forwarda little, or they will be upon us, but be ever so gentle with thepaddle, Dagaeoga. That is it! We make so little sound that it is nosound at all, and they cannot hear us. Now, we are well beyond them,and the two canoes are meeting in the fog. The men in them talktogether. You hear them very well yourself, Dagaeoga. Their exactwords do not come to our ears, but we know they are telling oneanother that no messenger from the beleaguered camp has yet passed.Now, they part and go back on their beat. We can afford to forgetthem, Dagaeoga, and think of those ahead. We still have the realgauntlet to run. Be very gentle with the paddle again.
"I hear the canoes ahead of us very clearly now. One of them is largealso with four paddles in it, and two of the men are Frenchmen. Icannot understand what they say, but I hear the French accent; thesound is not at all like that the warriors make. One of the Frenchmenis giving instructions, as I can tell by his tone of command, and Ithink the canoes are going to spread out more. Yes, they are movingaway to both right and left. They must feel sure that we are heresomewhere in the fog, trying to get by them, but the big canoe withthe Frenchmen in it keeps its place. Bear a little to the left,Dagaeoga, and we can pass it unseen."
It was the most delicate of tasks to paddle the canoe, and causescarcely a ripple in the water, but they were so skillful they wereable to do it, and make no sound that Robert himself could hear.Although his nerves were steady his excitement was intense. Asituation so extraordinary put every power of his imagination intoplay. His fancy fairly peopled the water with hostile canoes; theywere in a triple ring about him and Tayoga. All his pulses werebeating hard, yet his will, as usual, was master of his nerves, andthe hand that held the paddle never shook.
"A canoe on the outer line, and from the left, is now bearing intoward us," whispered Tayoga.
"There are two men in it, as the strokes of the paddles show. They arecoming toward us. Some evil spirit must have whispered to them that weare here. Ah, they have stopped! What does it mean, Dagaeoga? Listen!Did you not hear a little splash? They think to surprise us! They keepthe paddles silent and try a new trick! Hold the canoe here, Dagaeoga,and I will meet the warrior who comes!"
The Onondaga dropped his rifle, hunting shirt and belt with his pistolin it, into the bottom of the canoe, and then, his knife in his teeth,he was over the side so quickly that Robert did not have time toprotest. In an instant he was gone in the fog, and the youth inthe canoe could do nothing but wait, a prey to the most terribleapprehensions.
Robert, with an occasional motion of the paddle, held the canoe steadyon the water, and tried to pierce the fog with his eyes. He knew thathe must stay just where he was, or Tayoga, when he came back, mightnever find him. If he came back! If--He listened with all his ears forsome sound, however slight, that might tell him what was happening.
Out of the fog came a faint splash, and then a sigh that was almosta groan. Young Lennox shuddered, and the hair on his head stood up alittle. He knew that sound was made by a soul passing, but whose soul?Once more he realized to the full that his lot was cast in wild andperilous places.
A swimming face appeared in the fog, close to the canoe, and then hisheart fell from his throat to its usual place. Tayoga climbed lightlyinto the canoe, no easy feat in such a situation, put on his belt andreplaced the knife in the sheath. Robert asked him nothing, he hadno need to do so. The sigh that was almost a groan had told the fulltale.
"Now we will bear to the right again, Dagaeoga," said Tayoga, calmly,as the water dripped from him. Robert shivered once more. His fertilefancy reproduced that brief, fierce struggle in the water, but he saidnothing, promptly following the suggestion of Tayoga, and sending thecanoe to the right. The position was too perilous, though, for themto continue on one course long, and at the end of forty or fifty yardsthey stopped, both listening intently.
"Some of them are talking with one another now," whispered Tayoga."The warrior who swam does not come back to his canoe, and they wonderwhy he stays in the water so long. Soon they will know that he isnever coming out of the water. Now I hear a voice raised somewhatabove the others. It is a French voice. It is not that of St. Luc,because he must remain on shore to direct his army. It is not that ofDe Courcelles, because you wounded him, and he must be lying in campnursing his hurts. So I conclude that it is Jumonville, who is nextin rank and who therefore would be likely to command on this importantservice. I am sure it is Jumonville, and his raised voice indicatesthat he is giving orders. He realizes that the swimmer will notreturn and that we must be near. Perhaps he knows or guesses that themessengers are you and I, because he has learned long since that weare fitted for just such service, and that we have done such deeds.For instance, our journey to Quebec, on which we first met him."
"Then he'll think Dave is here too, because he was with us then."
"No, he will be quite sure the Great Bear is not here. He knows thathe is too important in the defense of the camp, that, while CaptainColden commands, it is the Great Bear who suggests and really directseverything. His sharp orders signify some sudden, new plan. They havea fleet of canoes, and I think they are making a chain, with the linksconnected so closely that we cannot pass. It is a real gauntlet for usto run, Dagaeoga."
"And how are we to run it?"
"We must pass as warriors, as men of their own."
"I do not look like a warrior."
"But you can make yourself look like one, in the fog at least, enough,perhaps, to go by. Your hair is a little long; take off your huntingshirt, and the other shirt beneath it, bare yourself to the waist, andin such a fog as this it would take the keenest of eyes, only a fewyards away, to tell that you are white. Quick, Dagaeoga! Lay thegarments on the bottom of the canoe. Bend well upon your paddle andappear to be searching the water everywhere for the messengers who tryto escape. I will do the same. Ah, that is well. You look and act somuch like a warrior of the woods, Dagaeoga, that even I, in the samecanoe, could well take you for a Huron. Now we will whisper no morefor a while, because they come, and they will soon be upon us."
Robert bent over his paddle. His upper clothing lay in the bottom ofthe canoe, with his rifle and Tayoga's upon the garments, ready to besnatched up in an instant, if need should come. The cold, wet fog beatupon his bare shoulders and chest, but he did not feel it. Instead hisblood was hot in every vein, and the great pulses in his temples beatso hard that they made a roaring in his ears.
Distinct sounds now came from both left and right, the swish ofpaddles, the ripple of water against the side of a canoe, men talking.They were coming to the chain that had been stretched in front ofthem, and their fate would soon be decided. Now, they must be not onlybrave to the uttermost, but they must be consummate actors too.
Figures began to f
orm themselves in the fog, the outline of a canoewith two men in it appeared on their right, another showed just ahead,and two more on the left. Robert from his lowered eyes, bent over thepaddle, caught a glimpse of the one ahead, a great canoe, or ratherboat, containing five men, one of whom wielded no paddle, but who satin its center, issuing orders. Through the fog came a slight gleamof metal from his epaulets and belt, and, although the face wasindistinct, Robert knew that it was Jumonville.
The officer was telling the canoes to keep close watch, not to letthe chain be broken, that the messengers were close at hand, thatthey would soon be taken, and that their comrade who did not comeback would be avenged. Robert bent a little lower over his paddle. Hiswhole body prickled, and the roaring in his ears increased.
Tayoga suddenly struck him a smart blow across his bowed back,and spoke to him fiercely in harsh, guttural Huron. Robert did notunderstand the words, but they sounded like a stern rebuke for poorwork with the paddle. The blow and the words stimulated him, keyed himto a supreme effort as an actor. All his histrionic temperament flaredup at once. He made a poor stroke with the paddle, threw up muchsurplus water, and, as he cowered away from Tayoga, he correctedhimself hastily. Tayoga uttered a sharp rebuke again, but did notstrike a second time. That would have been too much. Robert's nextstroke was fine and sweeping, and he heard Jumonville say in Frenchwhich many of the Indians understood:
"Go more toward the center of the lake and take a place in the line."
Tayoga and Robert obeyed dumbly, passing Jumonville's boat at a rangeof five or six yards, going a little beyond the line, and, turningabout as if to make a curve that would keep them from striking anyother canoe. Again Robert made a false stroke with the paddle, causingthe canoe to rock dangerously, and now, Tayoga, fully justified bythe fierce code of the forest in striking him again, snatched his ownpaddle out of the water and gave him a smart rap with the flat of itacross the back, at the same time upbraiding him fiercely in Huron.
"Dolt! Fool!" he exclaimed. "Will you never learn how to hold yourpaddle? Will you never know the stroke? Will you tip us both into thewater at such a time, when the messengers of the enemy are seekingto steal through? Do better with the paddle or you shall stay at homewith the old women, and work for the warriors!"
Robert snarled in reply, but he did not repay the blow. He madeanother awkward sweep that sent them farther on the outward curve, andhe heard Jumonville's harsh laugh. He was still the superb actor. Hisexcitement was real, and he counterfeited a nervousness and jerkinessthat appeared real also. One more wild stroke, and they shot fartherout. Jumonville angrily ordered them to return, but Robert seemed tobe possessed by a spell of awkwardness, and Tayoga craftily aided him.
"Come back!" roared Jumonville.
Robert and Tayoga were fifteen yards away, and the great blanket offog was enclosing them.
"Now! Now, Dagaeoga!" whispered the Onondaga tensely. "We paddle withall our might straight toward the south!"
Two paddles wielded by skillful and powerful arms flashed in thewater, and the canoe sped on its way. A shout of anger rose behindthem, and Robert distinctly heard Jumonville say in French:
"After them! After them! It was the messengers who stole by! They havetricked us!"
Those words were sweet in the ears of young Lennox. He had played theactor, and the reward, the saving of their lives, had been paid. Itwas one of their greatest triumphs and the savor of it would endurelong. The very thought gave fresh power to his arm and back, and heswept his paddle with a strength that he had never known before. Thecanoe skimmed the water like a bird and fairly flew in their chosencourse.
Robert's own faculties became marvelously acute. He heard behind themthe repeated and angry orders of Jumonville, the hurried strokes ofmany paddles, the splashing of canoes turned quickly about, a humof excited voices, and then he felt a great swell of confidence. Theroaring in his ears was gone, his nerves became amazingly steady, andevery stroke with his paddle was long and finished, a work of art.
Four or five minutes of such toil, and Tayoga rested on his paddle.Robert imitated him.
"Now we will take our ease and listen," said the Onondaga. "The fogis still our friend, and they will think we have turned to one side init, because that is the natural thing to do. But you and I, Dagaeoga,will not turn just yet."
"I can't hear anything, Tayoga, can you?"
"I cannot, Dagaeoga, but we will not have long to wait. Now, I catchthe light swish of a paddle. They are feeling about in the fog. Theregoes another paddle--and more. They come closer, but we still bidehere a little. I hear the voice of Jumonville. He is very angry. Butwhy should he be more angry at any other than at himself? He saw uswith his own eyes. He shouts many sharp orders, and some of them arefoolish. They must be so, because no man could shout orders so fast,and in such a confused way, and have them all good. He sends morecanoes to both right and left to seek us. You and I can afford tolaugh, Dagaeoga."
Sitting at rest in their canoe they laughed. With Robert it was not somuch a laugh of amusement as a laugh of relief after such tremendoustension. He felt that they were now sure to escape, and with Tayoga hewaited calmly.
The Lords of the Wild: A Story of the Old New York Border Page 12