De Galissonniere gazed at the three faces, peering at him over the brink, and then drew himself together jauntily.  His position, perched on the face of the cliff, was picturesque, and he made the most of it.

“I am glad to see you again Mr. Willet, Mr. Lennox and Tayoga, the brave Onondaga,” he said.  “It’s been a long time since we met in Quebec and much water has flowed under that bridge of Avignon, of which we French sing, but I can’t see that any one of you has changed much.”

“Nor you,” said Robert, catching his tone and acting as spokesman for the three.  “The circumstances are unusual, Captain Louis de Galissonniere, and I’m sorry I can’t invite you to come up on our crest, but it wouldn’t be military to let you have a look at our fortifications.”

“I understand, and I do very well where I am.  I wish to say first that I am sorry to see you in such a plight.”

“And we, Captain, regret to find you allied with such a savage as Tandakora.”

A quick flush passed over the young Frenchman’s face, but he made no other sign.

“In war one cannot always choose,” he replied.  “I have come to receive your surrender, and I warn you very earnestly that it will be wise for you to tender it.  The Indians have lost one man already and they are inflamed.  If they lose more I might not be able to control them.”

“And if we yield ourselves you pledge us our lives, a transfer in safety to Canada where we are to remain as prisoners of war, until such time as we may be exchanged?”

“All that I promise, and gladly.”

“You’re sure, Captain de Galissonniere, that you can carry out the conditions?”

“Absolutely sure.  You are surrounded here on the peak, and you cannot get away.  All we have to do is to keep the siege.”

“That is true, but while you can wait so can we.”

“But we have plenty of water, and you have none.”

“You would urge us again to surrender on the ground that it would be the utmost wisdom for us to do so?”

“It goes without saying, Mr. Lennox.”

“Then, that being the case, we decline.”

De Galissonniere looked up in astonishment at the young face that gazed down at him.  The answer he had expected was quite the reverse.

“You mean that you refuse?” he exclaimed.

“It is just what I meant.”

“May I ask why, when you are in such a hopeless position?”

“Tayoga, Mr. Willet and I wish to see how long we can endure the pangs of thirst without total collapse.  We’ve had quite a difference on the subject.  Tayoga says ten days, Mr. Willet twelve days, but I think we can stand it a full two weeks.”

De Galissonniere frowned.

“You are frivolous, Mr. Lennox,” he said, “and this is not a time for light talk.  I don’t know what you mean, but it seems to me you don’t appreciate the dire nature of your peril.  I liked you and your comrades when I met you in Quebec and I do not wish to see you perish at the hands of the savages.  That is why I have climbed up here to make you this offer, which I have wrung from the reluctant Tandakora.  It was he who assured me that the besieged were you.  It pains me that you see fit to reject it.”

“I know it was made out of a good heart,” said Robert, seriously, “and we thank you for the impulse that brought you here.  Some day we may be able to repay it, but we decline because there are always chances.  You know, Captain, that while we have life we always have hope.  We may yet escape.”

“I do not see wherein it is possible,” said the young Frenchman, with actual reluctance in his tone.  “But it is for you to decide what you wish to do.  Farewell.”

“Farewell, Captain de Galissonniere,” said Robert, with the utmost sincerity.  “I hope no bullet of ours will touch you.”

The captain made a courteous gesture of good-by and slowly descended the slope, disappearing among the bushes in the gorge, whence came a fierce and joyous shout.

“That was the cry of the savages when he told them our answer,” said Willet.  “They don’t want us to surrender.  They think that by-and-by we’ll fall into their hands through exhaustion, and then they can work their will upon us.”

“They don’t know about that fountain, that pure, blessed fountain,” said Robert, “the finest fountain that gushes out anywhere in this northern wilderness, the fountain that Tayoga’s Areskoui has put here for our especial benefit.”

His heart had become very light and, as usual when his optimism was at its height, words gushed forth.  Water, and their ability to get it whenever they wanted it, was the key to everything, and he painted their situation in such bright colors that his two comrades could not keep from sharing his enthusiasm.

“Truly, Dagaeoga did not receive the gift of words in vain,” said Tayoga.  “Golden speech flows from him, and it lifts up the minds of those who hear.  Manitou finds a use for everybody, even for the orator.”

“Though it was a hard task, even for Manitou,” laughed Robert.

They watched the whole afternoon without any demonstration from the enemy ­they expected none ­and toward evening the Onondaga, who was gazing into the north, announced a dark shadow on the horizon.

“What is it?” asked Robert.  “A cloud?  I hope we won’t have another storm.”

“It is no cloud,” replied Tayoga.  “It is something else that moves very fast, and it comes in our direction.  A little longer and I can tell what it is.  Now I see; it is a flight of wild pigeons, a great flock, hundreds of thousands, and millions, going south to escape the winter.”

“We’ve seen such flights often.”

“So we have, but this is coming straight toward us, and I have a great thought, Dagaeoga.  Areskoui has not only forgiven us for our unknown sin ­perhaps of omission ­but he has also decided to put help in our way, if we will use it.  You see many dwarf trees at the southern edge of the crest, and I believe that by dark they will be covered with pigeons, stopping for the night.”

“And some of them will stop for our benefit, though we have bear meat too!  I see, Tayoga.”

Robert watched the flying cloud, which had grown larger and blacker, and then he saw that Tayoga was right.  It was an immense flock of wild pigeons, and, as the twilight fell, they covered the trees upon their crest so thickly that the boughs bent beneath them.  Young Lennox and the Onondaga killed as many as they wished with sticks, and soon, fat and juicy, they were broiling over the coals.

“Tandakora will guess that the pigeons have fed us,” said Robert, “and he will not like it, but he will yet know nothing about the water.”

They climbed down in turn in the darkness and took a drink, and Robert, who explored a little, found many vines loaded with wild grapes, ripe and rich, which made a splendid dessert.  Then he took a number of the smaller but very tough stems, and knotting them together, with the assistance of Tayoga ran a strong rope from the crest down to the fountain, thus greatly easing the descent for water and the return.

“Now we can take two drinks where we took one before,” he said triumphantly when the task was finished.  “If you have your water there is nothing like making it easy to be reached.  Moreover, while it was safe for an agile fellow like me, you and Dave, Tayoga, being stiff and clumsy, might have tumbled down the mountain and then I should have been lonesome.”

Willet, who had been keeping the watch alone, was inclined to the belief that they might expect an attack in the night, if it should prove to be very dark.  He felt able, however, should such an attempt come, to detect the advance of the savages, either by sight or hearing, especially the latter, ear in such cases generally informing him earlier than eye.  But as neither Robert nor Tayoga was busy they joined him, and all three sat near the brink with their rifles across their knees, and their pistols loosened in their belts, ready for their foes should they come in numbers.

They talked a while in low tones, and then fell silent.  The night had come, starless and moonless, favorable to the designs of Tandakora, but they felt intense satisfaction, nevertheless.  It was partly physical.  Robert’s making of an easy road to the water, the coming of the pigeons, to be eaten, apparently sent by Areskoui, and the ease with which they believed they could hold their lofty fortress, combined to produce a victorious state of mind.  Robert looked over the brink once or twice at the steep slope, and he felt that the warriors would, in truth, be taking a mighty risk, if they came up that steep path against the three.

He and Tayoga, in the heavy darkness, depended, like Willet, chiefly on ear.  It was impossible to see to the bottom of the valley, where the dusk had rolled up like a sea, but, as the night was still, they felt sure they could hear anyone climbing up the peak.  In order to make themselves more comfortable they spread their blankets at the very brink, and lay down upon them, thus being able to repose, and at the same time watch without the risk of inviting a shot.

Young Lennox knew that the attack, if it came at all, would not come until late, and restraining his naturally eager and impatient temper, he used all the patience that his strong will could summon, never ceasing meanwhile to lend an attentive ear to every sound of the night.  He heard the wind rise, moan a little while in the gorge and then die; he heard a fitful breeze rustle the boughs on the slopes and then grow still, and he heard his comrades move once or twice to ease their positions, but no other sound came to him until nearly midnight, and then he heard the fall of a pebble on the slope, absolute proof to one experienced as he that it had been displaced by the incautious foot of a climbing enemy.

The rattling of the pebble was succeeded by a long interval of silence, and the lad understood that too.  The warriors, to whom time was nothing, fearing that suspicion had been aroused by the fall of the pebble, would wait until it had been lulled before resuming their advance.  They would flatten themselves like lizards against the slope, not stirring an inch.  But the three were as patient as they, and while a full hour passed after the slip of the stone before the slightest sound came from the slope, they did not relax their vigilance a particle.  Then all three heard a slight rustle among the bushes and they peered cautiously over.

They were able to discern the dim outline of figures among the bushes about twenty feet below, and Wilier, who directed the defense, whispered that Tayoga and he would take aim, while Robert held his fire in reserve.  Then the Onondaga and he picked their targets in the darkness and pulled trigger.  Shouts, the fall of bodies and the crackling of rifles came back.  A half dozen bullets, fired almost at random, whistled over their heads and then Robert sent his own lead at a shadow which appeared very clearly among the bushes, a crashing fall following at once.

Then the three, not waiting to reload, snatched out their pistols and held themselves ready for a further attack, if it should come.  But it did not come.  Even the rage of Tandakora had had enough.  His second repulse had been bloodier than the first, and it had been proved with the lives of his warriors that they could not storm that terrible steep, in the face of three such redoubtable marksmen.

Robert heard a number of pebbles rolling now, but they were made by men descending, and the three, certain of abundant leisure, reloaded their rifles.  Their eyes told them nothing, but they were as sure as if they had seen them that the warriors had disappeared in the sea of darkness with which the gulf was filled.  The lad breathed a long sigh of relief.

“You’re justified in your satisfaction,” said Willet.  “I think it’s the last direct attack they’ll make upon us.  Now they’ll try the slow methods of siege and our exhaustion by thirst, and how it would make their venom rise if they knew anything about that glorious fountain of ours!  Since it’s to be a test of patience, we’d better make things easy for ourselves.  I’ll sit here and watch the slope, and, as the night is turning cold, you and Tayoga, Robert, can build a fire.”

There was a dip in the center of the crest, and in this they heaped the fallen wood, which here as elsewhere in the wilderness was abundant.  Wood and water, two great requisites of primitive man, they had in plenty, and had it not been for their eagerness to go forward with their work they would have been content to stay indefinitely on the peak.

The fire was soon blazing cheerfully.  Warriors on the opposing peaks or crest might see it, but they did not care.  No bullets from rival heights could reach them and the light would appear to their enemies as a beacon of defiance, a sort of challenge that was very pleasing to Robert’s soul.  He basked in the glow and heat of the coals, ate bear meat and wild pigeon for a late supper, and discoursed on the strength of their natural fortress.

“The peak was reared here by Areskoui for our especial benefit,” he said.  “It is in every sense a tower of strength, water even being placed in its side that we might not die of thirst.”

“And yet we cannot stay here always,” said the Onondaga.  “Tomorrow we must think of a way of escape.”

“Let tomorrow take care of itself.  Tayoga, you’re too serious!  You’re missing the pleasure of the night.”

“Dagaeoga loves to talk and he talks well.  His voice is pleasant in my ear like to the murmur of a silver brook.  Perhaps he is right.  Lo! the clouds have gone, and I can see Tododaho on his star.  Areskoui watches over us by day and Tododaho by night.  We are once more the favorites of the Sun God and of the great Onondaga who went away to his everlasting star more than four centuries ago.  Again I say Dagaeoga is right; I will enjoy the night, and let the morrow care for itself.”

He drew the folds of his blanket to his chin and stretched his length before the fire.  Having made up his mind to be satisfied, Tayoga would let nothing interfere with such a laudable purpose.  Soon he slept peacefully.

“You might follow him,” said Willet.

“I don’t think I can do it now,” said Robert.  “I’ve a restless spirit.”

“Then wander about the peak, and I’ll take up my old place at the edge of the slope.”

Robert went back to the far side, where he had stretched his rope of grape vines down to the spring, and, craving their cool, fresh taste, he ate more of the grapes.  He noticed then that they were uncommonly plentiful.  All along the cliff they trailed in great, rich clusters, black and glossy, fairly asking to be eaten.  In places the vines hung in perfect mazes, and he looked at them questioningly.  Then the thought came to him and he wondered why it had been so slow of arrival.  He returned to Willet and said: 

“I don’t think you need watch any longer here, Dave.”

“Why?” was the hunter’s astonished reply.

“Because we’re going to leave the mountain.”

“Leave the mountain!  It’s more likely, Robert, that your prudence has left you.  If we went down the slope we’d go squarely into the horde, and then it would be a painful and lingering end for us.”

“I don’t mean the slope.  We’re to go down the other side of the cliff.”

“Except here and near the bottom the mountain is as steep everywhere as the side of a house.  The only way for us to get down is to fall down and then we’d stop too quick.”

“We don’t have to fall down, we’ll climb down.”

“Can’t be done, Robert, my boy.  There’s not enough bushes.”

“We don’t need bushes, there are miles of grape vines as strong as leather.  All we have to do is to knot them together securely and our rope is ready.  If we eased our way to the spring with vines then we can finish the journey to the bottom of the cliff with them.”

The hunter’s gaze met that of the lad, and it was full of approval.

“I believe you’ve found the way, Robert,” said Willet.  “Wake Tayoga and see what he thinks.”

The Onondaga received the proposal with enthusiasm, and he made the further suggestion that they build high the fire for the sake of deceiving the besiegers.

“And suppose we prop up two or three pieces of fallen tree trunk before it,” added Robert.  “Warriors watching on the opposite slopes will take them for our figures and will not dream that we’re attempting to escape.”

That idea, too, was adopted, and in a few minutes the fire was blazing and roaring, while a stream of sparks drifted up merrily from it to be lost in the dusk.  Near it the fragments of tree trunks set erect would pass easily, at a great distance and in the dark, for human beings.  Then, while Willet watched, Robert and Tayoga knotted the vines with quick and dextrous hands, throwing the cable over a bough, and trying every knot with their double weight.  A full two hours they toiled and then they exulted.

“It will reach from the clump of bushes about the fountain to the next clump below, which is low down,” said Robert, “and from there we can descend without help.”

They called Willet, and the three, leaving the crest which had been such a refuge for them and which they had defended so well, descended to the fountain.  At that point they secured their cable with infinite care to the largest of the dwarf trees and let it drop over across a bare space to the next clump of bushes below, a distance that seemed very great, it was so steep.  Robert claimed the honor of the first descent, but it was finally conceded to Tayoga, who was a trifle lighter.

The Onondaga fastened securely upon his back his rifle and his pack containing food, and then, grasping the cable firmly with both hands, he began to go down, while his friends watched with great anxiety.  He was not obliged to swing clear his whole weight, but was able to brace his feet against the cliff.  Thus he steadied the vines, but Robert and Willet nevertheless breathed great sighs of relief, when he reached the bushes below, and detached himself from the cable.

“It is safe,” he called back.

Robert went next and Willet followed.  When the three were in the bushes, clinging to their tough and wiry strength, they found that the difficulties, as they invariably do, had decreased.  Below them the slope was not so steep by any means, and, by holding to the rocky outcrops and scant bushes, they could make the full descent of the mountain.  While they rested for a little space where they were, Robert suddenly began to laugh.

“Is Dagaeoga rejoicing so soon?” asked Tayoga

“Why shouldn’t I laugh,” replied Robert, “when we have such a good jest?”

“What jest?  I see none.”

“Why, to think of Tandakora sitting at the foot of our peak and watching there three or four days, waiting all the time for us to die of hunger and thirst, and we far to the south.  At least he’ll see that the mountain doesn’t get away, and Tandakora, I take it, has small sense of humor.  When he penetrates the full measure of the joke he’ll love us none the less.  Perhaps, though, De Galissonniere will not mourn, because he knows that if we were taken after a siege he could not save us from the cruelty of the savages.”

The hunter and the Onondaga were forced to laugh a little with him, and then, rested thoroughly, they resumed the descent, leaving their cable to tell its own tale, later on.  The rest of the slope, although possible, was slow and painful, testing their strength and skill to the utmost, but they triumphed over everything and before day were in a gorge, with the entire height of the peak towering above them and directly between them and their enemies.  Here they flung themselves on the ground and rested until day, when they began a rapid flight southward, curving about among the peaks, as the easiest way led them.

The air rapidly grew warmer, showing that the sudden winter had come only on the high mountains, and that autumn yet lingered on the lower levels.  The gorgeous reds and yellows and browns and vivid shades between returned, but there was a haze in the air and the west was dusky.

“Storm will come again before night,” said Tayoga.

“I think so too,” said Willet, “and as I’ve no mind to be beaten about by it, suppose we build a spruce shelter in the gorge here and wait until it passes.”

The two lads were more than willing, feeling that the chance of pursuit had passed for a long time at least, and they set to work with their sharp hatchets, rapidly making a crude but secure wickiup, as usual against the rocky side of a hill.  Before the task was done the sky darkened much more, and far in the west thunder muttered.

“It’s rolling down a gorge,” said Robert, “and hark! you can hear it also in the south.”

From a point, far distant from the first, came a like rumble, and, after a few moments of silence, a third rumble was heard to the east.  Silence again and then the far rumble came from the south.

“That’s odd,” said Robert.  “It isn’t often that you hear thunder on all sides of you.”

“Listen!” exclaimed Tayoga, whose face bore a rapt and extraordinary look.  The four rumbles again went around the horizon, coming from one point after the other in turn.

“It is no ordinary thunder,” said the Onondaga in a tone of deep conviction.

“What is it, then?” asked Robert.

“It is Manitou, Areskoui, Tododaho and Hayowentha talking together.  That is why we have the thunder north, east, south and west.  Hear their voices carrying all through the heavens!”

“Which is Manitou?”

“That I cannot tell.  But the great gods talk, one with another, though what they say is not for us to know.  It is not right that mere mortals like ourselves should understand them, when they speak across infinite space.”

“It may be that you’re right, Tayoga,” said Willet.

The three did not yet go into the spruce shelter, because, contrary to the signs, there was no rain.  The wind moaned heavily and thick black clouds swept up in an almost continuous procession from the western horizon, but they did not let a drop fall.  The thunder at the four points of the horizon went on, the reports moving from north to east, and thence to south and west, and then around and around, always in the same direction.  After every crash there was a long rumble in the gorges until the next crash came again.  Now and then lightning flared.

“It is not a storm after all,” said the Onondaga, “or, at least, if a storm should come it will not be until after night is at hand, when the great gods are through talking.  Listen to the heavy booming, always like the sound of a thousand big guns at one time.  Now the lightning grows and burns until it is at a white heat.  The great gods not only talk, but they are at play.  They hurl thunderbolts through infinite space, and watch them fall.  Then they send thunder rumbling through our mountains, and the sound is as soft to them as a whisper to us.”

“Your idea is pretty sound, Tayoga,” said Willet, who had imbibed more than a little of the Iroquois philosophy, “and it does look as if the gods were at play because there is so much thunder and lightning and no rain.  Look at that flash on the mountain toward the east!  I think it struck.  Yes, there goes a tree!  When the gods play among the peaks it’s just as well for us to stay down here in the gorge.”

“But the crashes still run regularly from north to east and on around,” said Robert.  “I suppose that when they finish talking, the rain will come, and we’ll have plenty of need for our spruce shelter.”

The deep rumbling continued all through the rest of the afternoon.  A dusk as of twilight arrived long before sunset, but it was of an unusually dull, grayish hue, and it affected Robert as if he were breathing an air surcharged with gunpowder.  It colored and intensified everything.  The peaks and ridges rose to greater heights, the gorges and valleys were deeper, the reports of the thunder, extremely heavy, in fact, were doubled and tripled in fancy; all that Tayoga had said about the play of the gods was true.  Tododaho, the great Onondaga, spoke across the void to Hayowentha, the great Mohawk, and Areskoui, the Sun God, conversed with Manitou, the All Powerful, Himself.

The imaginative lad felt awe but no fear.  The gods at play in the heavens would not condescend to harm a humble mortal like himself and it was an actual pleasure because he was there to hear them.  Just before the invisible sun went over the rim of the horizon, a brilliant red light shot for a minute or two from the west through the gray haze, and fell on the faces of the three, sitting in silence before their spruce shelter.

“It is Areskoui throwing off his most brilliant beams before he goes,” said Tayoga.  “Now I think the play will soon be over, and we may look for the rain.”

The crashes of thunder increased swiftly and greatly in violence, and then, as the Onondaga had predicted, ceased abruptly.  The silence that followed was so heavy that it was oppressive.  No current of air was moving anywhere.  Not a leaf stirred.  The grayish haze became thicker and every ridge and peak was hidden.  Presently a sound like a sigh came down the gorge, but it soon grew.

“We’ll go inside,” said Tayoga, “because the deluge is at hand.”

They crowded themselves into their crude little hut, and in five minutes the flood was upon them, pouring with such violence that some of it forced its way through the hasty thatch, but they were able to protect themselves with their blankets, and they slept the night through in a fair degree of comfort.

In the morning they saw a world washed clean, bright and shining, and they breathed an autumnal air wonderful in its purity.  Feeling safe now from pursuit, they were no longer eager to flee.  A brief council of three decided that they would hang once more on the French and Indian flank.  It had been their purpose to discover what was intended by the formidable array they had seen, and it was their purpose yet.

They did not go back on their path, but they turned eastward into a land of little and beautiful lakes, through which one of the great Indian trails from the northwest passed, and made a hidden camp near the shore of a sheet of water about a mile square, set in the mountains like a gem.  They had method in locating here, as the trail ran through a gorge less than half a mile to the east of their camp, and they had an idea that the spy, Garay, might pass that way, two of them always abiding by the trail, while the third remained in their secluded camp or hunted game.  Willet shot a deer and Tayoga brought down a rare wild turkey, while Robert caught some wonderful lake trout.  So they had plenty of food, and they were content to wait.

They were sure that Garay had not yet gone, as the storms that had threatened them would certainly have delayed his departure, and neither the hunter nor the Onondaga could discover any traces of footsteps.  Fortunately the air continued to turn warmer and the lower country in which they now were had all the aspects of Indian summer.  Robert, shaken a little perhaps by the great hardships and dangers through which he had passed, though he may not have realized at the time the weight upon his nerves, recovered quickly, and, as usual, passed, with the rebound, to the heights of optimism.

“What do you expect to get from Garay?” he asked Willet as he changed places with him on the trail.

“I’m not sure,” replied the hunter, “but if we catch him we’ll find something.  We’ve got to take our bird first, and then we’ll see.  He went north and west with a message, and that being the case he’s bound to take one back.  I don’t think Garay is a first-class woodsman and we may be able to seize him.”

Robert was pleased with the idea of the hunted turning into the hunters, and he and Tayoga now did most of the watching along the trail, a watch that was not relaxed either by day or by night.  On the sixth night the two youths were together, and Tayoga thought he discerned a faint light to the north.

“It may be a low star shining over a hill,” said Robert.

“I think it is the glow from a small camp fire,” said the Onondaga.

“It’s a question that’s decided easily.”

“You mean we’ll stalk it, star or fire, whichever it may be?”

“That is what we’re here for, Tayoga.”

They began an exceedingly cautious advance toward the light, and it soon became evident that it was a fire, though, as Tayoga had said, a small one, set in a little valley and almost hidden by the surrounding foliage.  Now they redoubled their caution, using every forest art to make a silent approach, as they might find a band of warriors around the blaze, and they did not wish to walk with open eyes into any such deadly trap.  Their delight was great when they saw only one man crouched over the coals in a sitting posture, his head bent over his knees; so that, in effect, only his back was visible, but they knew him at once.  It was Garay.

The heart of young Lennox flamed with anger and triumph.  Here was the fellow who had tried to take his life in Albany, and, if he wished revenge, the moment was full of opportunity.  Yet he could never fire at a man’s back, and it was their cue, moreover, to take him alive.  Garay’s rifle was leaning against a log, six or eight feet from him, and his attitude indicated that he might be asleep.  His clothing was stained and torn, and he bore all the signs of a long journey and extreme weariness.

“See what it is to come into the forest and not be master of all its secrets,” whispered Tayoga.  “Garay is the messenger of Onontio (the Governor General of Canada) and Tandakora, and yet he sleeps, when those who oppose him are abroad.”

“A man has to sleep some time or other,” said Robert, “or at least a white man must.  We’re not all like an Iroquois; we can’t stay awake forever if need be.”

“If one goes to the land of Tarenyawagon when his enemies are at hand he must pay the price, Dagaeoga, and now the price that Garay is going to pay will be a high one.  Surely Manitou has delivered him, helpless, into our hands.  Come, we will go closer.”

They crept through the bushes until they could have reached out and touched the spy with the muzzles of their rifles, and still he did not stir.  Into that heavy and weary brain, plunged into dulled slumbers, entered no thought of a stalking foe.  The fire sank and the bent back sagged a little lower.  Garay had traveled hard and long.  He was anxious to get back to Albany with what he knew, and he felt sure that the northern forests contained only friends.  He had built his fire without apprehension, and sleep had overtaken him quickly.

A fox stirred in the thicket beyond the fire and looked suspiciously at the coals and the still figure beyond them.  He did not see the other two figures in the bushes but his animosity as well as his suspicion was aroused.  He edged a little nearer, and then a slight sound in the thicket caused him to creep back.  But he was an inquiring fox, and, although he buried himself under a bush, he still looked, staring with sharp, intent eyes.

He saw a shadow glide from the thicket, pick up the rifle of Garay which leaned against the fallen log, and then glide back, soundless.  The curiosity of the fox now prevailed over his suspicion.  The shadow had not menaced him, and his vulpine intelligence told him that he was not concerned in the drama now about to unfold itself.  He was merely a spectator, and, as he looked, he saw the shadow glide back and crouch beside the sleeping man.  Then a second shadow came and crouched on the other side.

What the fox saw was the approach of Robert and Tayoga, whom some whimsical humor had seized.  They intended to make the surprise complete and Robert, with a memory of the treacherous shot in Albany, was willing also to fill the soul of the spy with terror.  Tayoga adroitly removed the pistol and knife from the belt of Garay, and Robert touched him lightly on the shoulder.  Still he did not stir, and then the youth brought his hand down heavily.

Garay uttered the sigh of one who comes reluctantly from the land of sleep and who would have gone back through the portals which were only half opened, but Robert brought his hand down again, good and hard.  Then his eyes flew open and he saw the calm face beside him, and the calm eyes less than a foot away, staring straight into his own.  It must be an evil dream, he thought at first, but it had all the semblance of reality, and, when he turned his head in fear, he saw another face on the other side of him, carved in red bronze, it too only a foot away and staring at him in stern accusation.

Then all the faculties of Garay, spy and attempted assassin, leaped into life, and he uttered a yell of terror, springing to his feet, as if he had been propelled by a galvanic battery.  Strong hands, seizing him on either side, pulled him down again and the voice of Tayoga, of the clan of the Bear, of the nation Onondaga, of the great League of the Hodenosaunee said insinuatingly in his ear: 

“Sit down, Achille Garay!  Here are two who wish to talk with you!”

He fell back heavily and his soul froze within him, as he recognized the faces.  His figure sagged, his eyes puffed out, and he waited in silent terror.

“I see that you recognize us, Achille Garay,” said Robert, whose whimsical humor was still upon him.  “You’ll recall that shot in Albany.  Perhaps you did not expect to meet my friend and me here in the heart of the northern forests, but here we are.  What have you to say for yourself?”

Garay strove to speak, but the half formed words died on his lips.

“We wish explanations about that little affair in Albany,” continued his merciless interlocutor, “and perhaps there is no better time than the present.  Again I repeat, what have you to say?  And you have also been in the French and Indian camp.  You bore a message to St. Luc and Tandakora and beyond a doubt you bear another back to somebody.  We want to know about that too.  Oh, we want to know about many things!”

“I have no message,” stammered Garay.

“Your word is not good.  We shall find methods of making you talk.  You have been among the Indians and you ought to know something about these methods.  But first I must lecture you on your lack of woodcraft.  It is exceedingly unwise to build a fire in the wilderness and go to sleep beside it, unless there is someone with you to watch.  I’m ashamed of you, Monsieur Garay, to have neglected such an elementary lesson.  It made your capture easy, so ridiculously easy that it lacked piquancy and interest.  Tayoga and I were not able to give our faculties and strength the healthy exercise they need.  Come now, are you ready to walk?”

“What are you going to do with me?” asked Garay in French, which both of his captors understood and spoke.

“We haven’t decided upon that,” replied Robert maliciously, “but whatever it is we’ll make it varied and lively.  It may please you to know that we’ve been waiting several days for you, but we scarce thought you’d go to sleep squarely in the trail, just where we’d be sure to see you.  Stand up now and march like a man, ready to meet any fate.  Fortune has turned against you, but you still have the chance to show your Spartan courage and endurance.”

“The warrior taken by his enemies meets torture and death with a heroic soul,” said Tayoga solemnly.

Garay shivered.

“You’ll save me from torture?” he said to Robert.

Young Lennox shook his head.

“I’d do so if it were left to me,” he said, “but my friend, Tayoga, has a hard heart.  In such matters as these he will not let me have my way.  He insists upon the ancient practices of his nation.  Also, David Willet, the hunter, is waiting for us, and he too is strong for extreme measures.  You’ll soon face him.  Now, march straight to the right!”

Garay with a groan raised himself to his feet and walked unsteadily in the direction indicated.  Close behind him came the avenging two.