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

THE FLIGHT

They were within twenty-four hours of the fort, when they struck a new trail, one of the many they had seen in the forest, but Tayoga observed it with unusual attention.

“Why does it interest you so much?” asked Robert.  “We’ve seen others like it and you didn’t examine them so long.”

“This is different, Dagaeoga.  Wait a minute or two more that I may observe it more closely.”

Young Lennox and Willet stood to one side, and the Onondaga, kneeling down in the grass, studied the imprints.  It was late in the afternoon, and the light of the red sun fell upon his powerful body, and long, refined, aristocratic face.  That it was refined and aristocratic Robert often felt, refined and aristocratic in the highest Indian way.  In him flowed the blood of unnumbered chiefs, and, above all, he was in himself the very essence and spirit of a gentleman, one of the finest gentlemen either Robert or Willet had ever known.  Tayoga, too, had matured greatly in the last year under the stern press of circumstance.  Though but a youth in years he was now, in reality, a great Onondaga warrior, surpassed in skill, endurance and courage by none.  Young Lennox and the hunter waited in supreme confidence that he would read the trail and read it right.

Still on his knees, he looked up, and Robert saw the light of discovery in the dusky eyes.

“What do you read there, Tayoga?” he asked.

“Six men have passed here.”

“Of what tribe were they?”

“That I do not know, save as it concerns one.”

“I don’t understand you.”

“Five were of the Indian race, but of what tribe I cannot say, but the sixth was a white man.”

“A Frenchman.  It certainly can’t be De Courcelles, because we’ve left him far behind, and I hope it’s not St. Luc.  Maybe it’s Jumonville, De Courcelles’ former comrade.  Still, it doesn’t seem likely that any of the Frenchmen would be with so small a band.”

“It is not one of the Frenchmen, and the white man was not with the band.”

“Now you’re growing too complex for my simple mind, Tayoga.  I don’t understand you.”

“It is one trail, but the Indians and the white man did not pass over it at the same time.  The Indian imprints were made seven or eight hours ago, those of the white man but an hour or so since.  Stoop down, Great Bear, and you will see that it is true.”

“You’re right, Tayoga,” said Willet, after examining minutely.

“It follows, then,” said the young Onondaga, in his precise tones, “that the white man was following the red men.”

“It bears that look.”

“And you will notice, Great Bear, and you, too, Dagaeoga, that the white man’s moccasin has made a very large imprint.  The owner of the foot is big.  I know of none other in the forest so big except the Great Bear himself.”

“Black Rifle!” exclaimed Robert, with a flash of insight.

“It can be none other.”

“And he’s following on the trail of these Indians, intending to ambush them when they camp tonight.  He hunts them as we would hunt wolves.”

Robert shuddered a little.  It was a time when human life was held cheap in the wilderness, but he could not bring himself to slay except in self-defense.

“We need Black Rifle,” said Willet, “and they’ll need him more at the fort.  We’ve an hour of fair sunlight left, and we must follow this trail as fast as we can and call him back.  Lead the way, Tayoga.”

The young Onondaga, without a word, set out at a running walk, and the others followed close behind.  It was a plain trail.  Evidently the warriors had no idea that they were followed, and the same was true of Black Rifle.  Tayoga soon announced that both pursuers and pursued were going slowly, and, when the last sunlight was fading, they stopped at the crest of a hill and called, imitating first the cry of a wolf, and then the cry of an owl.

“He can’t be more than three or four hundred yards away,” said Willet, “and he may not understand either cry, but he’s bound to know that they mean something.”

“Suppose we stand out here where he can see us,” said Robert.  “He must be lurking in the thickets just ahead.”

“The simplest way and so the right way,” said Willet.  “Come forth, you lads, where the eyes of Black Rifle may look upon you.”

The three advanced from the shelter of the woods, and stood clearly outlined in an open space.  A whistle came from a thicket scarce a hundred yards before them, and then they saw the striking figure of the great, swarthy man emerging.  He came straight toward them, and, although he would not show it in his manner, Robert saw a gleam of gladness in the black eyes.

“What are you doing here, you three?” he asked.

“Following you,” replied Robert in his usual role of spokesman.

“Why?”

“Tayoga saw the trail of the Indians overlaid by yours.  We knew you were pursuing them, and we’ve come to stop you.”

“By what right?”

“Because you’re needed somewhere else.  You’re to go with us to Fort Refuge.”

“What has happened?”

“Braddock’s army was destroyed near Fort Duquesne.  The general and many of his officers were killed.  The rest are retreating far into the east.  We’re on our way to Fort Refuge to save the garrison and people if we can, and you’re to go with us.”

Black Rifle was silent a moment or two.  Then he said: 

“I feared Braddock would walk into an ambush, but I hardly believed his army would be annihilated.  I don’t hold it against him, because he turned my men and me away.  How could I when he died with his soldiers?”

“He was a brave man,” said Robert.

“I’m glad you found me.  I’ll leave the five Indians, though I could have ambushed ’em within the hour.  The whole border must be ablaze, and they’ll need us bad at Fort Refuge.”

The three, now four, slept but little that night and they pressed forward all the next day, their anxiety to reach the fort before an attack could be made, increasing.  It did not matter now if they arrived exhausted.  The burden of their task was to deliver the word, to carry the warning.  At dusk, they were within a few miles of the fort.  An hour later they noticed a thread of blue smoke across the clear sky.

“It comes from the fort,” said Tayoga.

“It’s not on fire?” said Robert, aghast.

“No, Dagaeoga, the fort is not burning.  We have come in time.  The smoke rises from the chimneys.”

“I say so, too,” said Willet.  “Unless there’s a siege on now, we’re ahead of the savages.”

“There is no siege,” said Tayoga calmly.  “Tododaho has held the warriors back.  Having willed for us to arrive first, nothing could prevent it.”

“Again, I think you’re right, Tayoga,” said Robert, “and now for the fort.  Let our feet devour the space that lies between.”

He was in a mood of high exaltation, and the others shared his enthusiasm.  They went faster than ever, and soon they saw rising in the moonlight the strong palisade and the stout log houses within it.  Smoke ascended from several chimneys, and, uniting, made the line across the sky that they had beheld from afar.  From their distant point of view they could not yet see the sentinels, and it was hard to imagine a more peaceful forest spectacle.

“At any rate, we can save ’em,” said Robert.

“Perhaps,” said Willet gravely, “but we come as heralds of disaster occurred, and of hardships to come.  It will be a task to persuade them to leave this comfortable place and plunge into the wilderness.”

“It’s fortunate,” said Robert, “that we know Colden and Wilton and Carson and all of them.  We warned ’em once when they were coming to the place where the fort now is, and they didn’t believe us, but they soon learned better.  This time they’ll know that we’re making no mistake.”

As they drew near they saw the heads of four sentinels projecting above the walls, one on each side of the square.  The forest within rifle shot had also been cleared away, and Black Rifle spoke words of approval.

“They’ve learned,” he said.  “The city lads with the white hands have become men.”

“A fine crowd of boys,” said Willet, with hearty emphasis.  “You’ll see ’em acting with promptness and courage.  Now, we want to tell ’em we’re here without getting a bullet for our pains.”

“Suppose you let me hail ’em,” said Robert.  “I’ll stand on the little hill there—­a bullet from the palisades can’t reach me—­and sing ’em a song or two.”

“Go ahead,” said the hunter.

Standing at his full height, young Lennox began to shout: 

“Awake!  Awake!  Up!  Up!  We’re friends!  We’re friends!”

His musical voice had wonderful carrying power, and the forest, and the open space in which the fort stood, rang with the sound.  Robert became so much intoxicated with his own chanting that he did not notice its effect, until Willet called upon him to stop.

“They’ve heard you!” exclaimed the hunter.  “Many of them have heard you!  All of them must have heard you!  Look at the heads appearing above the palisade!”

The side of the palisade fronting them was lined with faces, some the faces of soldiers and others the faces of civilians.  Robert uttered a joyful exclamation.

“There’s Colden!” he exclaimed.  “The moonlight fell on him just then, and I can’t be mistaken.”

“And if my eyes tell me true, that’s young Wilton beside him,” said the hunter.  “But come, lads, hold up your hands to show that we’re friends, and we’ll go into the fort.”

They advanced, their hands, though they grasped rifles, held on high, but Robert, exalted and irrepressible, began to sing out anew: 

“Hey, you, Colden!  And you, too, Wilton and Carson!  It’s fine to see you again, alive and well.”

There was silence on the wall, and then a great shout of welcome.

“It’s Lennox, Robert Lennox himself!” cried someone.

“And Willet, the big hunter!”

“And there’s Black Rifle, too!”

“And Tayoga, the Onondaga!”

“Open the gate for ’em!  Let ’em come in, in honor.”

The great gate was thrown wide, and the four entered quickly, to be surrounded at once by a multitude, eager for news of the outside world, from which they had been shut off so long.  Torches, held aloft, cast a flickering light over young soldiers in faded uniforms, men in deerskin, and women in home-made linsey.  Colden, and his two lieutenants, Wilton and Carson, stood together.  They were thin, and their faces brown, but they looked wiry and rugged.  Colden shook Robert’s hand with great energy.

“I’m tremendously glad to see you,” he exclaimed, “and I’m equally glad to see Mr. Willet, the great Onondaga, and Black Rifle.  You’re the first messengers from the outside world in more than a month.  What news of victory do you bring?  We heard that a great army of ours was marching against Duquesne.”

Robert did not answer.  He could not, because the words choked in his throat, and a silence fell over the crowd gathered in the court, over soldiers and men and women and children alike.  A sudden apprehension seized the young commander and his lips trembled.

“What is it, Lennox, man?” he exclaimed.  “Why don’t you speak?  What is it that your eyes are telling me?”

“They don’t tell of any victory,” replied Robert slowly.

“Then what do they tell?”

“I’m sorry, Colden, that I have to be the bearer of such news.  I would have told it to you privately, but all will have to know it anyhow, and know it soon.  There has been a great battle, but we did not win it.”

“You mean we had to fall back, or that we failed to advance?  But our army will fight again soon, and then it will crush the French and Indian bands!”

“General Braddock’s army exists no longer.”

“What?  It’s some evil jest.  Say it’s not true, Lennox!”

“It’s an evil jest, but it’s not mine, Colden.  It’s the jest of fate.  General Braddock walked into a trap—­it’s twice I’ve told the terrible tale, once to Black Rifle and now to you—­and he and his army were destroyed, all but a fragment of it that is now fleeing from the woods.”

The full horror of that dreadful scene in the forest returned to him for a moment, and, despite himself, he made tone and manner dramatic.  A long, deep gasp, like a groan, came from the crowd, and then Robert heard the sound of a woman on the outskirts weeping.

“Our army destroyed!” repeated Colden mechanically.

“And the whole border is laid bare to the French and Indian hosts,” said Robert.  “Many bands are converging now upon Fort Refuge, and the place cannot be held against so many.”

“You mean abandon Fort Refuge?”

“Aye, Colden, it’s what wiser men than I say, Dave here, and Tayoga, and Black Rifle.”

“The lad is speaking you true, Captain Colden,” said Willet.  “Not only must you and your garrison and people leave Fort Refuge, but you must leave it tomorrow, and you must burn it, too.”

Again Robert heard the sound of a woman weeping in the outskirts of the crowd.

“We held it once against the enemy,” protested Colden.

“I know,” said Willet, “but you couldn’t do it now.  A thousand warriors, yes, more, would gather here for the siege, and the French themselves would come with cannon.  The big guns would blow your palisades to splinters.  Your only safety is in flight.  I know it’s a hard thing to destroy the fort that your own men built, but the responsibility of all these women and children is upon you, and it must be done.”

“So it is, Mr. Willet.  I’m not one to gainsay you.  I think we can be ready by daylight.  Meanwhile you four rest, and I’ll have food served to you.  You’ve warned us and we can count upon you now to help us, can’t we?”

“To the very last,” said Willet.

After the first grief among the refugees was over the work of preparation was carried on with rapidity and skill, and mostly in silence.  There were enough men or well grown boys among the settlers to bring the fighting force up to a hundred.  Colden and his assistants knew much of the forest now, and they were willing and anxious, too, to take the advice of older and far more experienced men like Black Rifle and Willet.

“The fighting spirit bottled up so long in our line has surely ample opportunity to break out in me,” said Wilton to Robert toward morning.  “As I’ve told you before, Lennox, if I have any soldierly quality it’s no credit of mine.  It’s a valor suppressed in my Quaker ancestors, but not eradicated.”

“That is, if you fight you fight with the sword of your fathers and not your own.”

“You put it well, Lennox, better than I could have stated it myself.  What has become of that wonderful red friend of yours?”

“Tayoga?  He has gone into the forest to see how soon we can expect Tandakora, De Courcelles and the Indian host.”

The Onondaga returned at dawn, saying that no attack need be feared before noon, as the Indian bands were gathering at an appointed place, and would then advance in great force.

“They’ll find us gone by a good six hours,” said Willet, “and we must make every minute of those six hours worth an ordinary day, because the warriors, wild at their disappointment, will follow, and at least we’ll have to beat off their vanguard.  It’s lucky all these people are used to the forest.”

Just as the first rim of the sun appeared they were ready.  There were six wagons, drawn by stout horses, in which they put the spare ammunition and their most valuable possessions.  Everybody but the drivers walked, the women and children in the center of the column, the best of the scouts and skirmishers in the woods on the flanks.  Then at the command of Colden the whole column moved into the forest, but Tayoga, Willet and a half dozen others ran about from house to house, setting them on fire with great torches, making fifty blazes which grew rapidly, because the timbers were now dry, uniting soon into one vast conflagration.

Robert and Colden, from the edge of the forest, watched the destruction of Fort Refuge.  They saw the solid log structures fall in, sending up great masses of sparks as the burning timbers crashed together.  They saw the strong blockhouse go, and then they saw the palisade itself flaming.  Colden turned away with a sigh.

“It’s almost like burning your own manor house which you built yourself, and in which you expected to spend the remainder of your life,” he said.  “It hurts all the more, too, because it’s a sign that we’ve lost the border.”

“But we’ll come back,” said Robert, who had the will to be cheerful.

“Aye, so we will,” said Colden, brightening.  “We’ll sweep back these French and Indians, and we’ll come here and rebuild Fort Refuge on this very spot.  I’ll see to it, myself.  This is a splendid place for a fort, isn’t it, Lennox?”

“So it is,” replied Robert, smiling, “and I’ve no doubt, Colden, that you’ll supervise the rebuilding of Fort Refuge.”

And in time, though the interval was great, it did come to pass.

Colden was not one to be gloomy long, and there was too much work ahead for one to be morbid.  Willet had spoken of the precious six hours and they were, in, truth, more precious than diamonds.  The flight was pushed to the utmost, the old people or the little children who grew weary were put in the wagons, and the speed they made was amazing for the wilderness.  Robert remained well in the rear with Tayoga, Willet and Black Rifle, and they continually watched the forest for the first appearance of the Indian pursuit.  That, in time, it would appear they never doubted, and it was their plan to give the vanguard of the warriors such a hot reception that they would hesitate.  Besides the hundred fighting men, including the soldiers and boys large enough to handle arms, there were about a hundred women and children.  Colden marched with the main column, and Wilton and Carson were at the rear.  Black Rifle presently went ahead to watch lest they walk into an ambush, while Tayoga, Robert and Willet remained behind, the point from which the greatest danger was apprehended.

“Isn’t it likely,” asked Robert, “that the Indians will see the light of the burning fort, and that it will cause them to hasten?”

“More probably it will set them to wondering,” replied the hunter, “and they may hesitate.  They may think a strong force has come to rescue the garrison and people.”

“But whatever Tandakora and the officer of Onontio may surmise,” said Tayoga, “our own course is plain, and that is to march as fast as we can.”

“And hope that a body of Colonial troops and perhaps the Mohawks will come to help us,” said Willet.  “Colonel William Johnson, as we all know, is alert and vigorous, and it would be like him to push westward for the protection of settlers and refugees.  ’Twould be great luck, Tayoga, if that bold young friend of yours, Daganoweda, the Mohawk chief, should be in this region.”

“It is not probable,” said the Onondaga.  “The Keepers of the Eastern Gate are likely to remain in their own territory.  They would not, without a strong motive, cross the lands of the other nations of the Hodenosaunee, but it is not impossible.  They may have such a motive.”

“Then let us hope that it exists!” exclaimed Robert fervently.  “The sight of Daganoweda and a hundred of his brave Mohawks would lift a mighty load from my mind.”

Tayoga smiled.  A compliment to the Mohawks was a compliment to the entire Hodenosaunee, and therefore to the Onondagas as well.  Moreover the fame and good name of the Mohawks meant almost as much to him as the fame and good name of the Onondagas.

“The coming of Daganoweda would be like the coming of light itself,” he said.

They were joined by Wilton, who, as Robert saw, had become a fine forest soldier, alert, understanding and not conceited because of his knowledge.  Robert noted the keen, wary look of this young man of Quaker blood, and he felt sure that in the event of an attack he would be among the very best of the defenders.

“The spirit of battle, bursting at last in you, Will, from its long confinement, is likely to have full chance for gratification,” he said.

“So it will, Lennox, and I tremble to think of what that released spirit may do.  If I achieve any deed of daring and valor bear in mind that it’s not me, but the escaped spirit of previous ages taking violent and reckless charge of my weak and unwilling flesh.”

“Suppose we form a curtain behind our retreating caravan,” said Robert.  “A small but picked force could keep back the warriors a long time, and permit our main column to continue its flight unhampered.”

“A good idea! an idea most excellent!” exclaimed Willet.

As a matter of form, the three being entirely independent in their movements, the suggestion was made to Colden, and he agreed at once and with thorough approval.  Thirty men, including Willet, Robert, Tayoga and Wilton, were chosen as a fighting rear guard, and the hunter himself took command of it.  Spreading out in a rather long line to prevent being flanked, they dropped back and let the train pass out of sight on its eastern flight.

They were now about ten miles from the burned fort, and, evidences of pursuit not yet being visible, Robert became hopeful that the caution of Tandakora and De Courcelles would hold them back a long time.  He and Tayoga kept together, but the thirty were stretched over a distance of several hundred yards, and now they retreated very slowly, watching continually for the appearance of hostile warriors.

“They have, of course, a plain trail to follow,” Robert said.  “One could not have a better trace than that made by wagon wheels.  It’s just a matter of choice with them whether they come fast or not.”

“I think we are not likely to see them before the night,” said Tayoga.  “Knowing that the column has much strength, they will prefer the darkness and ambush.”

“But they’re not likely to suspect the screen that we have thrown out to cover the retreat.”

“No, that is the surprise we have prepared for them.  But even so, we, the screen, may not come into contact with them before the dark.”

Tayoga’s calculation was correct.  The entire day passed while the rear guard retreated slowly, and all the aspects of the forest were peaceful.  They saw no pursuing brown figures and they heard no war cry, nor the call of one band to another.  Yet Robert felt that the night would bring a hostile appearance of some kind or other.  Tandakora and De Courcelles when they came upon the site of the burned fort would not linger long there, but would soon pass on in eager pursuit, hoping to strike a fleeing multitude, disorganized by panic.  But he smiled to himself at the thought that they would strike first against the curtain of fire and steel, that is, the thirty to whom he belonged.

When night came he and Tayoga were still together and Willet was a short distance away.  He watched the last light of the sun die and then the dusk deepen, and he felt sure that the approach of the pursuing host could not be long delayed.  His eyes continually searched the thickets and forest in front of them for a sight of the savage vanguard.

“Can you see Tododaho upon his star?” he asked Tayoga in all earnestness.

“The star is yet faint in the heavens,” replied the Onondaga, “and I can only trace across its face the mists and vapors which are the snakes in the hair of the great chieftain, but Tododaho will not desert us.  We, his children, the Onondagas, have done no harm, and I, Tayoga, am one of them.  I feel that all the omens and presages are favorable.”

The reply of the Onondaga gave Robert new strength.  He had the deepest respect for the religion of the Hodenosaunee, which he felt was so closely akin to his own, and Tododaho was scarcely less real to him than to Tayoga.  His veins thrilled with confidence that they would drive back, or at least hold Tandakora and De Courcelles, if they came.

The last and least doubt that they would come was dispelled within an hour when Tayoga suddenly put a hand upon his arm, and, in a whisper, told him to watch a bush not more than a hundred yards away.

“A warrior is in the thicket,” he said.  “I would not have seen him as he crept forward had not a darker shadow appeared upon the shadow of the night.  But he is there, awaiting a chance to steal upon us and fire.”

“And others are near, seeking the same opportunity.”

“It is so, Dagaeoga.  The attack will soon begin.”

“Shall we warn Willet?”

“The Great Bear has seen already.  His eyes pierce the dark and they have noted the warrior, and the other warriors.  Lie down, Dagaeoga, the first warrior is going to fire.”

Robert sank almost flat.  There was a report in the bush, a flash of fire, and a bullet whistled high over their heads.  From a point on their right came an answering report and flash, and the warrior in the bush uttered his death cry.  Robert, who was watching him, saw him throw up his hands and fall.

“It was the bullet of the Great Bear that replied,” said Tayoga.  “It was rash to fire when such a marksman lay near.  Now the battle begins.”

The forest gave forth a great shout, penetrating and full of menace, coming in full volume, and indicating to the shrewd ears of Tayoga the presence of two or three hundred warriors.  Robert knew, too, that a large force was now before them.  How long could the thirty hold back the Indian hosts?  Yet he had the word of Tayoga that Tododaho looked down upon them with benignity and that all the omens and presages were favorable.  There was a flash at his elbow and a rifle sang its deadly song in his ear.  Then Tayoga uttered a sigh of satisfaction.

“My bullet was not wasted,” he said.

Robert waited his opportunity, and fired at a dusky figure which he saw fall.  He was heart and soul averse to bloodshed, but in the heat of action, and in self-defense, he forgot his repugnance.  He was as eager now for a shot as Tayoga, Willet, or any other of the thirty.  Tayoga, who had reloaded, pulled trigger again and then a burst of firing came from the savage host.  But the thirty, inured to the forest and forest warfare, were sheltered well, and they took no hurt.  The Indians who were usually poor marksmen, fired many bullets after their fashion and wasted much lead.

“They make a great noise, inflict no wounds, and do not advance,” whispered Tayoga to Robert.

“Doubtless they are surprised much at meeting our line in the forest, and think us many times more numerous than we are.”

“And we may fill their minds with illusions,” said Robert hopefully.  “They may infer from our strong resistance that reënforcements have come, that the Mohawks are here, or that Colonel Johnson himself has arrived with Colonial troops.”

“It may be that Waraiyageh will come in time,” said Tayoga.  “Ah, they are trying to pass around our right flank.”

His comment was drawn by distant shots on their right.  The reports, however, did not advance, and the two, reassured, settled back into their places.  Three or four of the best scouts and skirmishers were at the threatened point, and they created the effect of at least a dozen.  Robert knew that the illusion of a great force confronting them was growing in the Indian mind, and his heart glowed with satisfaction.  While they held the savage host the fugitive train was putting fresh miles between them and pursuit.  Suddenly he raised his own rifle and fired.  Then he uttered a low cry of disappointment.

“It was Tandakora himself,” he said.  “I couldn’t mistake his size, but it was only a glimpse, and I missed.”

“The time of the Ojibway has not come,” said Tayoga with conviction, “but it will come before this war is over.”

“The sooner the better for our people and yours, Tayoga.”

“That is so, Dagaeoga.”

They did not talk much more for a long time because the combat in the forest and the dark deepened, and the thirty were so active that there was little time for question or answer.  They crept back and forth from bush to bush and from log to log, firing whenever they saw a flitting form, and reloading with quick fingers.  Now and then Willet, or some other, would reply with a defiant shout to the yells of the warriors, and thus, while the combat of the sharpshooters surged to and fro in the dim light, many hours passed.

But the thirty held the line.  Robert knew that the illusion of at least a hundred, doubtless more, was created in the minds of the warriors, and, fighting with their proverbial caution, they would attempt no rush.  He had a sanguine belief now that they could hold the entire host until day, and then the fleeing train would be at least twenty miles farther on.  A few of the thirty had been wounded, though not badly enough to put them out of the combat, but Robert himself had not been touched.  As usual with him in moments of success or triumph his spirits flamed high, and his occasional shout of defiance rose above the others.

“In another hour,” said Tayoga, “we must retreat.”

“Why?” asked Robert.  “When we’re holding ’em so well?”

“By day they will be able to discover how few we are, and then, although they may not be able to force our front, they will surely spread out and pass around our flanks.  I do not see the Great Bear now, but I know he thinks so, too, and it will not be long before we hear from him.”

Within five minutes Willet, who was about a hundred yards away, uttered a low whistle, which drew to him Robert, Tayoga and others, and then he passed the word by them to the whole line to withdraw swiftly, but in absolute silence, knowing that the longer Tandakora and De Courcelles thought the defenders were in their immediate front the better it was for their purpose.  Seven of the thirty were wounded, but not one of them was put out of the combat.  Their hurts merely stung them to renewed energy, and lighted higher in them the fire of battle.

Under the firm leadership of Willet they retreated as a group, wholly without noise, vanishing in the thickets, and following fast on the tracks left by the wagons.  When the sun rose they stopped and Tayoga went back to see if the Indian host was yet coming.  He returned in an hour saying there was no indication of pursuit, and Robert exulted.

“We’ve come away, and yet we are still there!” he exclaimed.

“What do you mean?” asked Willet.

“We abandoned our position, but we left the great illusion there for the warriors.  They think we’re still before ’em and so long as that illusion lasts it will hold ’em.  So you see, Dave, an illusion is often fully as good as reality.”

“It may be for a little while, but it doesn’t last as long.  Within another hour Tandakora and De Courcelles will surely find out that we’ve gone, and then, raging mad, they’ll come on our trail.”

“And we’ll meet ’em with a second stand, I suppose?”

“If we can find a good place for defense.”

One of the men, Oldham, who had been sent ahead, soon returned with news that the train had crossed a deep creek with rather high banks.

“It was a hard ford,” he said, “but I followed the trail some distance on the other side, and they seem to have made the passage without any bad accident.”

“Was the far bank of the creek thick with forest?” asked Willet.

“Trees and undergrowth are mighty dense there,” replied Oldham.

“Then that’s the place for our second stand.  If we can hold the creek against ’em for three or four hours more it will be another tremendous advantage gained.  With high banks and the woods and thickets on ’em so dense, we ought to create what Robert would call a second illusion.”

“We will!” exclaimed Robert.  “We can do it!”

“At least, we’ll try,” said Willet, and he led the little force at speed toward the creek.