The Rulers of the Lakes: A Story of George and Champlain

by Joseph A. Altsheler

  CHAPTER XV

  THE LAKE BATTLE

  Robert and Tayoga approached the American camp in the early dawn of awaning summer, and the air was crisp and cool. The Onondaga's shoulder,at last, had begun to feel the effects of his long flight, and he, aswell as Robert, was growing weary. Hence it was with great delight thatthey caught the gleam of a uniform through a thicket, and knew they hadcome upon one of Johnson's patrols. It was with still greater delight asthey advanced that they recognized young William Wilton of thePhiladelphia troop, and a dozen men. Wilton looked wan and hollow-eyed,as if he had been watching all night, but his countenance was alert, andhis figure erect nevertheless.

  Hearing the steps of Tayoga and Robert in the bushes, he called sharply:

  "Who's there?"

  His men presented their arms, and he stepped forward, sword in hand.Robert threw up his own hands, and, emerging from the thicket, said intones which he made purposely calm and even.

  "Good morning, Will. It's happy I am to see you keeping such a goodwatch."

  Then he dropped his hands and walked into the open, Tayoga followinghim. Wilton stared as if he had seen someone come back from anotherstar.

  "Lennox, is it really you?" he asked.

  "Nobody else."

  "You in the flesh and not a ghost?"

  "In the flesh and no ghost."

  "And is that Tayoga following you?"

  "The Onondaga himself."

  "And he is not any ghost, either?"

  "No ghost, though Tandakora's men tried hard to make him one, and took agood start at it. But he's wholly in the flesh, too."

  "Then shake. I was afraid, at first, to touch hands with a ghost, but,God bless you, Robert, it fills me with delight to see you again, andyou, too, Tayoga, no less. We thought you both were dead, and Colden andCarson and Grosvenor and I and a lot of others have wasted a lot of goodmourning on you."

  Robert laughed, and it was probably a nervous laugh of relief at havingarrived, through countless dangers, upon an errand of such hugeimportance.

  "Both of you look worn out," said Wilton. "I dare say you've been up allnight, walking through the interminable forest. Come, have a good, fatbreakfast, then roll between the blankets and sleep all day long."

  Robert laughed again. How little the young Quaker knew or suspected!

  "We neither eat nor sleep yet, Will," he said. "Where is ColonelJohnson? You must take us to him at once!"

  "The colonel himself, doubtless, has not had his breakfast. But whythis feverish haste? You talk as if you and Tayoga carried the fate of anation on your shoulders."

  "That's just what we do carry. And, in truth, the fate of more than one,perhaps. Lead on, Will! Every second is precious!"

  Wilton looked at him again, and, seeing the intense earnestness in theblue eyes of young Lennox, gave a command to his little troop, startingwithout another word across the clearing, Robert and Tayoga followingclose behind. The two lads were ragged, unkempt, and bore all the signsof war, but they were unconscious of their dilapidated appearance,although many of the young soldiers stared at them as they went by. Theypassed New England and New York troops cooking their breakfast, and on alow hill a number of Mohawks were still sleeping.

  They approached the tent of Colonel Johnson and were fortunate enough tofind him standing in the doorway, talking with Colonel Ephraim Williamsand Colonel Whiting. But he was so engrossed in the conversation that hedid not see them until Wilton saluted and spoke.

  "Messengers, sir!" he said.

  Colonel Johnson looked up, and then he started.

  "Robert and Tayoga!" he exclaimed. "I see by your faces that you haveword of importance! What is it?"

  "Dieskau's whole army is advancing," said Robert. "It long since leftCrown Point, put a garrison in Ticonderoga, and is coming along LakeGeorge to fall on you by surprise, and destroy you."

  Waraiyageh's face paled a little, and then a spark leaped up in hiseye.

  "How do you know this?" he asked.

  "I have seen it with my own eyes. I looked upon Dieskau's marching army,and so did Tayoga. St. Luc was thrown across our path to stop us, and weleft Willet, Rogers and Daganoweda in battle with him, while we fled,according to instructions, to you."

  "Then you have done well. Go now and seek rest and refreshment. You aregood and brave lads. Our army will be made ready at once. We'll not waitfor Dieskau. We'll go to meet him. What say you, Williams, and you,Whiting?".

  "Forward, sir! The troops would welcome the order!" replied ColonelWilliams, and Whiting nodded assent.

  Johnson was now all activity and energy and so were his officers. Heseemed not at all daunted by the news of Dieskau's rapid advance. Ratherhe welcomed it as an end to his army's doubts and delays, and as astrong incentive to the spirits of the men.

  "Go, lads, and rest!" he repeated to Robert and Tayoga, and now thattheir supreme task was achieved they felt the need of obeying him. Bothwere sagging with weariness, and it was well for the Onondaga to look tohis shoulder, which was still a little lame. As they saluted and leftthe tent a young Indian lad sprang toward them and greeted them eagerly.It was young Joseph Brant, the famous Thayendanega of later days, thebrother of Molly Brant, Colonel William Johnson's Mohawk wife.

  "Hail, Tayoga! Hail, Dagaeoga!" he exclaimed in the Mohawk tongue. "Iknew that you were inside with Waraiyageh! You have brought great news,it is rumored already! It is no secret, is it?"

  "We do have news, mighty news, and it is no secret," replied Robert."It's news that will give you your opportunity of starting on the longpath that leads to the making of a great chief. Dieskau has marchedsuddenly and is near. We're going to meet him."

  The fierce young Mohawk uttered a shout of joy and rushed for his arms.Robert and Tayoga, after a brief breakfast, lay down on their blanketsand, despite all the turmoil and bustle of preparation, fell asleep.

  While the two successful but exhausted messengers slumbered, ColonelJohnson called a council of war, at which the chief militia officers andold Hendrik, the Mohawk sachem, were present. The white men favored theswift advance of a picked force to save Edward, one of the new fortserected to protect the frontier, from the hordes, and the dispatch of asecond chosen force to guard Lyman, another fort, in the same manner.The wise old Mohawk alone opposed the plan, and his action wassignificant.

  Hendrik picked up three sticks from the ground and held them before theeyes of the white men.

  "Put these together," he said, "and you cannot break them. Take them oneby one and you break them with ease."

  But he could not convince the white leaders, and then, a man of greatsoul, he said that if his white comrades must go in the way they hadchosen he would go with them. Calling about him the Mohawk warriors,two hundred in number, he stood upon a gun carriage and addressed themwith all the spirit and eloquence of his race. Few of the Americansunderstood a word he said, but they knew from his voice that he wasurging his men to deeds of valor.

  Hendrik told the warriors that the French and their allies were at hand,and the forces of Waraiyageh were going out to meet them. Waraiyageh hadalways been their friend, and it became them now to fight by his sidewith all the courage the Ganeagaono had shown through unnumberedgenerations. A fierce shout came from the Mohawks, and, snatching theirtomahawks from their belts, they waved them about their heads.

  To the young Philadelphians and to Grosvenor, the Englishman, who stoodby, it was a sight wild and picturesque beyond description. The Mohawkswere in full war paint and wore little clothing. Their dark eyesflashed, as the eloquence of Hendrik made the intoxication of battlerise in their veins, and when two hundred tomahawks were swung aloft andwhirled about the heads of their owners the sun flashed back from themin glittering rays. Now and then fierce shouts of approval burst forth,and when Hendrik finished and stepped down from the gun carriage, theywere ready to start on a march, of which the wise old sachem had notapproved.

  The militia also were rapidly making ready, and Robert and Tayoga,a
wakened and refreshed, took their places with the little Philadelphiatroop and the young Englishman, Grosvenor. Hendrik was too old and stoutto march on foot, and he rode at the head of his warriors on a horse,lent him by Colonel Johnson, an unusual spectacle among the Iroquois,who knew little of horses, and cared less about them.

  This was the main force, and the Philadelphia troop, with Robert, Tayogaand Grosvenor, was close behind the Iroquois as they plunged into thedeep woods bordering the lake, a mass of tangled wilderness that mightwell house a thousand ambushes. Grosvenor glanced about himapprehensively.

  "I don't like the looks of it," he said. "It reminds me too much of theforest into which we marched with Braddock, God rest his soul!"

  "I wasn't there," said young Captain Colden, "but Heaven knows I'veheard enough horrible tales about it, and I've seen enough of the Frenchand Indians to know they're expert at deadly snares."

  "But we fight cunning with cunning," said Robert, cheerfully. "Look atthe Mohawks ahead. There are two hundred of 'em, and every one of 'emhas a hundred eyes."

  "And look at old Hendrik, trotting along in the very lead on his horse,"said Wilton. "I'm a man of peace, a Quaker, as you know, but myQuakerish soul leaps to see that gallant Indian, old enough to be thegrandfather of us all, showing the way."

  "Bravery and self-sacrifice are quite common among Indians. You'll learnthat," said Robert. "Now, watch with all your eyes, every man of you,and notice anything that stirs in the brush."

  Despite himself, Robert's own mind turned back to Braddock also, and allthe incidents of the forest march that had so terrible an ending.Johnson's army knew more of the wilderness than Braddock's, but thehostile force was also far superior to the one that had fought atDuquesne. The French were many times more numerous here than there, and,although he had spoken brave words, his heart sank. Like the old Mohawkchief, he knew the army should not have been divided.

  The region was majestic and beautiful. Not far away lay the lake,Andiatarocte, glittering in the sun. Around them stretched the primevalforest, in which the green was touched with the brown of late summer.Above them towered the mountains. The wilderness, picturesque and grand,gave forth no sound, save that of their own marching. The regiments ofWilliams and Whiting followed the Mohawks, and the New England and NewYork men were confident.

  Robert heard behind him the deep hum and murmur that an advancing armymakes, the sound of men talking that no commands could suppress, theheavy tread of the regiments and the clank of metal. That wild regionhad seen many a battle, but never before had it been invaded by armiesso great as those of Dieskau and Johnson, which were about to meet indeadly combat.

  His apprehensions grew. The absence of sounds save those made bythemselves, the lack of hostile presence, not even a single warrior orFrenchman being visible, filled him with foreboding. It was just thisway, when he marched with Braddock, only the empty forest, and no signof deadly danger.

  "Tayoga! Tayoga!" he whispered anxiously. "I don't like it."

  "Nor do I, Dagaeoga."

  "Think you we are likely to march into an ambush again?"

  "Tododaho on his star is silent. He whispers nothing to me, yet Ibelieve the trap is set, just ahead, and we march straight into it."

  "And it's to be another Duquesne?"

  "I did not say so, Dagaeoga. The trap will shut upon us, but we mayburst it. Behold the Mohawks, the valiant Ganeagaono! Behold all thebrave white men who are used to the forest and its ways! It is a strongtrap that can hold them, one stronger, I think, than any the sons ofOnontio and their savage allies can build."

  Robert's heart leaped up at the brave words of Tayoga.

  "I think so, too," he said. "It may be an ambush, but if so we willbreak from it. Old Hendrik tried to stop 'em, to keep all our forcetogether, but since he couldn't do it, he's riding at the very head ofthis column, a shining target for hidden rifles."

  "Hendrik is a great sachem, and as he is now old and grown feeble of thebody, though not of the mind, this may well be his last and mostglorious day."

  "I hope he won't fall."

  "Perhaps he may wish it thus. There could be no more fitting death for agreat sachem."

  They ceased talking, but both continued to watch the forest on eitherside with trained eyes. There was no wind, though now and then Robertthought he saw a bough or a bush move, indicating the presence of ahidden foe. But he invariably knew the next instant that it was merelythe product of an uncommonly vivid imagination, always kindling into aburning fire in moments of extreme danger. No, there was nothing in thewoods, at least, nothing that he could see.

  Ahead of him the band of Mohawks, old Hendrik on horseback at theirhead, marched steadily on, warily watching the woods and thickets fortheir enemies. They, at least, were in thorough keeping with thewildness of the scene, with their painted bodies, their fierce eyes andtheir glittering tomahawks. But around Robert and Tayoga were the youngPhiladelphians, trained, alert men now, and following them was thestream of New York and New England troops, strong, vigorous and alivewith enthusiasm.

  The wilderness grew wilder and more dense, the Mohawks entering a greatgorge, forested heavily, down the center of which flowed a brook ofblack water. Thickets spread everywhere, and there were extensiveoutcroppings of rock. At one point rose precipices, with the stonyslopes of French Mountain towering beyond. At another point rose WestMountain, though it was not so high, but at all points nature was wildand menacing.

  The air seemed to Robert to grow darker, though he was not sure whetherit was due to his imagination or to the closing in of the forests andmountains. At the same time a chill ran through his blood, a chill ofalarm, and he knew instinctively that it was with good cause.

  "Look at the great sachem!" suddenly exclaimed Tayoga.

  Hendrik, loyal friend of the Americans and English, had reined in hishorse, and his old eyes were peering into the thicket on his left, themass of Mohawks behind him also stopping, because they knew theirvenerable leader would give no alarm in vain. Tayoga, Robert, Grosvenorand the Philadelphians stopped also, their eyes riveted on Hendrik.Robert's heart beat hard, and millions of motes danced in the air beforehis eyes.

  The sachem suddenly threw up one hand in warning, and with the otherpulled back his horse. The next instant a single rifle cracked in thethicket, but in a few seconds it was followed by the crashing fire ofhundreds. Many of the Mohawks fell, a terrible lane was cut through theranks of the Colonials, and the bullets whistled about the heads of thePhiladelphia troop.

  "The ambush!" cried Robert.

  "The ambush!" echoed the Philadelphians.

  Tayoga uttered a groan. His eyes had seen a sight they did not wish tosee, however much he may have spoken of a glorious death for the old onthe battlefield. Hendrik's horse had fallen beneath the leader, but theold chief leaped to his feet. Before he could turn a French soldierrushed up and killed him with a bayonet. Thus died a great and wisesachem, a devoted friend of the Americans, who had warned them in vainagainst marching into a trap, but who, nevertheless, in the very momentof his death, had saved them from going so completely into the trap thatits last bar could close down.

  A mighty wail arose from the Mohawks when they saw their veneratedleader fall, but the wail merged into a fierce cry for vengeance, towhich the ambushed French and Indians replied with shouts of exultationand increased their fire, every tree and bush and rock and log hiding amarksman.

  "Give back!" shouted Tayoga to those around him. "Give back for yourlives!"

  The Mohawks and the frontiersmen alike saw they must slip from the trap,which they had half entered, if they were not to perish as Braddock'sarmy had perished, and like good foresters they fell back withouthesitation, pouring volley after volley into the woods and thicketswhere French and Indians still lay hidden. Yet the mortality among themwas terrible. Colonel Williams noted a rising ground on their right, andled his men up the slope, but as they reached the summit he fell dead,shot through the brain. A new and terrible fire was pour
ed upon histroops there from the bordering forest, and, unable to withstand it,they broke and began to retreat in confusion.

  The young Philadelphians, with Robert, Tayoga and Grosvenor, rushed totheir aid, and they were followed swiftly by the other regiment underWhiting. Yet it seemed that they would be cut to pieces when Robertsuddenly heard a tremendous war cry from a voice he thought he knew, andlooking back, he saw Daganoweda, the Mohawk, rushing into the battle.

  The young chieftain looked a very god of war, his eyes glittering, thefeathers in his headdress waving defiantly, the blade of his tomahawkflashing with light, when he swung it aloft. Now and then his lipsopened as he let loose the tremendous war cry of the Ganeagaono. Closebehind him crowded the warriors who had survived the combat with St.Luc, and there were Black Rifle, Willet, Rogers and the rangers, too,come just in time, with their stout hearts and strong arms to help staythe battle.

  Robert himself uttered a shout of joy and the dark eyes of Tayogaglowed. But from the Mohawks of Hendrik came a mighty, thrilling crywhen they saw the rush of their brethren under Daganoweda to their aid.Hendrik had fallen, and he had been a great and a wise sachem who wouldbe missed long by his nation, but Daganoweda was left, a young chief, avery thunderbolt in battle, and the fire from his own ardent spirit wascommunicated to theirs. Willet, Black Rifle and the rangers were alsopillars of strength, and the whole force, rallying, turned to meet thefoe.

  The French and Indians, sure now of a huge triumph, were rushing fromtheir coverts to complete it, to drive the fugitives in panic andturmoil upon the main camp, where Johnson had remained for the present,and then to annihilate him and his force too. Above the almostcontinuous and appalling yells of the savages the French trumpets sangthe song of victory, and the German baron who led them felt that healready clutched laurels as great as those belonging to the men who haddefeated Braddock.

  But the triumphant sweep of the Northern allies was suddenly met by adeadly fire from Mohawks, rangers and Colonials. Daganoweda and his men,tomahawk in hand, leaped upon the van of the French Indians and drovethem back. The rangers and the frontiersmen, sheltering themselvesbehind logs and tree trunks, picked off the French regulars and theCanadians as they advanced. A bullet from the deadly barrel of BlackRifle slew Legardeur de St. Pierre, who led Dieskau's Indians, and whomthey always trusted. The savage mass, wholly triumphant a minute ago,gave back, and the panic among the Mohawks and Colonials was stopped.

  When St. Pierre fell Robert saw a gallant figure appear in his place, afigure taller and younger, none other than St. Luc himself, theChevalier, arriving in time to help his own, just as Daganoweda, Willetand the others had come in time to aid theirs. The Chevalier was unhurt,and while one dauntless leader had fallen, another as brave and perhapsmore skillful had taken his place. Robert saw him raise a whistle to hislips, and at its clear, piercing call, heard clearly above the crash ofthe battle, the Indians, turning, attacked anew and with yet greaterimpetuosity.

  The smoke from so much firing was growing very thick, but through it theregulars of the regiments, Languedoc and La Reine, in their whiteuniforms, could be seen advancing, with the dark mass of the Canadianson one flank and the naked and painted Indians on the other, confidentnow that their check had been but momentary, and that the victory wouldyet be utter and complete.

  Nevertheless, the Colonials and the Mohawks had rallied, order wasrestored, and while they were giving ground they were retreating in goodformation, and with the rapid fire of their rifles were making the foepay dearly for his advance.

  Grosvenor had snatched up a rifle and ammunition from a fallen man, andwas pulling trigger as fast as he could reload. His face was coveredwith smoke, perspiration and the stains of burned gunpowder, the wholeforming a kind of brown mask, through which his eyes, nevertheless,gleamed with a dauntless light.

  "It won't be Duquesne over again! It won't be! It won't be!" he repeatedto all the world.

  "But if you're not more careful you'll never know anything about it!"exclaimed Robert, as he grasped him suddenly by the coat and pulled himdown behind a log, a half dozen musket balls whistling the next momentwhere his body had been. Grosvenor, in the moment of turmoil andexcitement, did not forget to be grateful.

  "Thanks, my dear fellow," he said to Robert. "I'll do as much for yousome time."

  Robert was about to reply, but a joyous shout from the rear stopped him.Over a hill behind them a strong body of provincials appeared coming tohelp. Waraiyageh in his camp had received news of ambush and battle, andknowing that his men must be in desperate case had hurried forwardrelief. Never was a force more welcome. Along the retreating line ran awelcoming shout, and all facing about as if by a single order, they gavethe pursuing French and Indians a tremendous volley.

  Robert saw regulars, Canadians and Indians drop as if smitten by athunderbolt, and the whole pursuing army, reeling back, stopped. Then heheard the French trumpets again, and waiting behind the log, he saw thatthe hostile array was no longer advancing. The trumpets of Dieskau weresounding the recall, for the time, at least. Robert did not know untilafterward that the Indian allies of the French had suffered so much thatthey were wavering, and not even the eloquence and example of St. Luccould persuade them, for the time being, to continue such a dangerouspursuit.

  A few minutes of precious rest were allowed to the harried vanguard ofJohnson, and now, holding their fire for a time when it would be neededmore, the men continued to fall back toward the main camp, from whichthey had so recently come. The crash of rifles and muskets sank, butboth sides were merely preparing for a new battle. Robert examinedhimself carefully, but found no trace of a wound.

  "How is it with you, Tayoga?" he asked.

  "Tododaho and Areskoui have protected me once more," replied theOnondaga. "The exertion has made my shoulder stiff and sore a little,but I have taken no fresh hurt."

  "And you, Grosvenor?"

  "My head is thumping at a terrible rate, but I feel that it will soonbecome quieter."

  "Its ability to thump shows that you're full of life. How about yourmen, Captain Colden?"

  "Four of my brave lads are sped. God rest their souls! They died in agood cause. Some of the others are wounded, but we won't count woundsnow."

  Robert was still able to see the indistinct figures of the French andIndians, through the clouds of smoke that hung between the two armies,but he saw also that they were not pursuing. At the distance he heard nosounds from them, and he presumed they were gathering up their dead andwounded, preparing for the new attack that would surely come.

  "I was not in the first battle, but I will be in the second," a youthfulvoice said beside him, and he saw the Mohawk boy, Joseph Brant, his faceglowing.

  "We heard the firing," continued the boy, "and Colonel Johnson hurriedforward a force, as you know. We are almost back at the camp now."

  Robert had taken no notice of distance, but facing about, he saw themain camp not far away. Lucky it was for them that Waraiyageh and hisofficers were men of experience. They had sent enough men to help thevanguard break from the trap, but they had retained the majority, andhad made them fortify with prodigious energy. A barricade of wagons,inverted boats, and trees hastily cut down had been built across thefront. Three cannon were planted in the center, where it was expectedthe main Indian and French force would appear, and another was draggedto the crest of a hill to rake their flank.

  The retreating force uttered a tremendous shout as they saw how theircomrades had prepared for them, and then, in good order, sought theshelter of the barricade, where they were welcomed by those who had notyet been in battle.

  "Get fresh breath while you may!" exclaimed Tayoga, as he threw himselfdown on the ground. "The delay will not be long. Sharp Sword will drivethe warriors forward, and the regulars and Canadians will charge. Itwill be a great battle, and a desperate one, nor does Tododaho yetwhisper to me which side will win."

  Robert and his comrades breathed heavily for a while, until they feltnew strength pouring
back into their veins. Then they rose, looked totheir arms and took their place in the line of battle. The trumpets ofDieskau were sounding again in the forest in front of them, and the newattack was at hand.

  "Keep close, Grosvenor," said Robert. "They'll fire the first volley andwe'll let it pass over our heads."

  "I know the wisdom of what you say," replied the Englishman, "but it'shard to refrain from looking when you know a French army and a mass ofhowling savages are about to rush down upon you."

  "But one must, if he intends to live and fight."

  Clear and full sang the trumpets of Dieskau once more. Despite hisadvice to Grosvenor, Robert peeped over the log and saw the enemygathering in the forest. The French regulars were in front, behind themthe Canadians, and on the flanks hovered great masses of savages. Smokefloated over trees and bushes, and the forest was full of acrid odors.Far to the right he caught another glimpse of St. Luc in his splendidwhite and silver uniform, marshaling the Indians, a shining mark, butapparently untouched.

  "The attack will be fierce," whispered Tayoga, who lay on his left."They consider their check a matter of but a moment, and they think tosweep over us."

  "But we have hundreds and hundreds of good rifles that say them nay. IsTododaho still silent, Tayoga?"

  The Onondaga looked up at the heavens, where the deep blue, beyond thesmoke, was unstained. There was the corner, where the star, on which hispatron saint lived, came out at night, but no light shone from thesilky void and no whisper reached his ear. So he said in reply:

  "The great Onondaga chieftain who went away four hundred years ago issilent today, and we must await the event."

  "We won't have to wait long, because I hear a single trumpet now, and tome it sounds wonderfully like the call to charge."

  The silver note thrilled through the woods, the French regulars andCanadians uttered a shout, which was followed instantly by the terribleyell of the Indians, and then the thickets crashed beneath the tread ofthe attacking army.

  "Here they come!" shouted Grosvenor, and, laying his rifle across thelog, he fired almost at random into the charging mass. Robert and Tayogapicked their targets, and their bullets sped true. All along theAmerican line ran the fierce fire, the crest of the whole barricadeblazing with red, while the artillery, which the savages always dreaded,opened on them with showers of grape.

  The Indians, despite all the bravery and example of St. Luc, wavered,and, as their dead fell around them, they began to give forth laments,instead of triumphant yells. But the regulars in the center, led byDieskau, came on as steadily as ever, and the little group behind thelog, of which Tayoga and Robert were the leading spirits, turned theirrifles upon them. Robert presently heard a youthful shout of exultationat the far end of the log, and he saw the boy, Joseph Brant, reloadingthe rifle which he had fired in his first battle. The French regularssuddenly stopped, and Grosvenor cried:

  "It will be no Duquesne! No Duquesne again!"

  The French were not withdrawing. Upon that field, as well as every otherin North America, they showed that they were the bravest of the brave.Wheeling his regulars and Canadians to the right, Dieskau sought tocrush there the three American regiments of Titcomb, Ruggles andWilliams, and for an hour the battle at that point swayed to and fro,often almost hand to hand. Titcomb was slain and many of his officersfell, but when Dieskau himself came into view an American rifleman shothim through the leg. His adjutant, a gallant young officer namedMontreuil, although wounded himself, rushed from cover, seized hiswounded chief in his arms and bore him to the shelter of a tree.

  But he was not safe long even there. While they were washing his woundshe was struck again by two bullets, in the knee and in the thigh. TwoCanadians attempted to carry him to the rear. One was killed instantly,and Montreuil took his place, but Dieskau made them put him down anddirected the adjutant to lead the French again in a desperate charge toregain a day that had started so brilliantly, and that now seemed to bewavering in the balance.

  Colonel Johnson himself had been wounded severely, and had beencompelled to retire to his tent, but the American colonels, at leastthose who survived, conducted the battle with skill and valor. Thecannon, protected by the riflemen, still sent showers of grape shotamong the French and Indians. The huge Tandakora with St. Luc tried tolead the savages anew upon the American lines, but the hearts of the redmen failed them.

  The French regulars, urged on by Montreuil, charged once more, and oncemore were driven back, and the Americans, rising from their logs andcoverts, rushed forward in their turn. The regulars and Canadians weredriven back in a rout, and Dieskau himself lying among the bushes wastaken, being carried to the tent of Johnson, where the two woundedcommanders, captor and captive, talked politely of many things.

  The victory became more complete than the Americans had hoped. TheIndians who had stayed far in the rear to scalp those fallen in themorning were attacked suddenly by a band of frontiersmen, coming to joinJohnson's army, and, although they fought desperately and were superiorin numbers, they were routed as Dieskau had been, the survivors fleeinginto the forest.

  Thus, late in the afternoon, closed the momentous battle of Lake George.The French and Indian power had received a terrible blow, the wholecourse of the war, which before had been only a triumphant march for theenemy, was changed, and men took heart anew as the news spread throughall the British colonies.

  When Dieskau's regulars, the Canadians and the Indians, broke in thegreat defeat, Robert, Tayoga, Willet, Grosvenor, the Philadelphia troop,Black Rifle and Daganoweda, all fierce with exultation, followed inpursuit. But the enemy melted away before them, and then, from thecrest of a hill, Robert heard the distant note of a French song he knew:

  Hier, sur le pont d'Avignon J'ai oui chanter la belle Lon, la, J'ai oui chanter la belle, Elle chantait d'un ton si doux Comme une demoiselle Lon, la, Comme une demoiselle.

  "At least he has escaped," said Robert.

  "The bullet that kills him is not molded and never will be," saidTayoga.

  "How do you know?" asked Willet, startled.

  "Because Tododaho has whispered it to me. I heard his voice in thebreath of the wind as we pursued through the forest."

  Robert caught a glimpse of St. Luc, in his uniform of white and silver,still apparently unstained, erect and defiant. Then he disappeared andthey heard only the singing of the wind among the leaves.