Tayoga laughed softly.

"You have lived long enough in the wilderness, O Dagaeoga," he said,
"to know that you cannot choose when and where you will do your work."

"That's true, Tayoga, but while my feet are unwilling to go my will
moves me on. So I'm entitled to more credit than you who take an
actual physical de light in trailing anybody at any time."

The Onondaga smiled, but did not reply. Then the three took up their
arms, returned their packs to their backs and without noise left the
alcove. Robert cast one more reluctant glance at the bed of coals, but
it was a farewell, not any weakening of the will to go.

Garay, after his brief rest on the summit, had passed the open space
and was out of sight in the bushes, but Robert knew that both Tayoga
and Willet could easily pick up his trail, and now he was all
eagerness to pursue him and see what the chase might disclose. A
little farther down, the cliff sloped back to such an extent that they
could climb it without trouble, and, when they surmounted the crest,
they entered the bushes at the point where Garay had disappeared.

"Can you hear him now, Tayoga?" asked Robert.

"My ears are as good as they were when I was in the ravine," replied
the Onondaga, "but they do not catch any sounds from the Frenchman.
It is, as we wish, because we do not care to come so near him that he
will hear."

"Give him a half mile start," said Willet. "The ground is soft here,