thoughtfully. "They don't know of our presence here, and if they did
we've too small a party for such big preparations."

"Perhaps a troop of Pennsylvanians are marching westward," said
Tayoga, "and the French and their allies are laying a trap for them."

"Then," said Robert, "there is but one thing for us to do. We must
warn our friends and save them from the snare."

"Of course," said Willet, "but we don't know where they are, and
meanwhile we'd better wait an hour or two. Perhaps something will
happen that will help us to locate them."

Robert and Tayoga nodded and the three remained silent while the night
came. The blazing red in the west faded rapidly and darkness swept
down over the wilderness. The three, each leaning against his tree,
did not move but kept their rifles across their knees ready at once
for possible use. Tayoga had fastened his bow over his back by the
side of his quiver, and their packs were adjusted also.

Robert was anxious not so much for himself as for the unknown others
who were marching through the wilderness, and for whom the French and
Indians were laying an ambush. It had been put forward first as a
suggestion, but it quickly became a conviction with him, and he felt
that his comrades and he must act as if it were a certainty. But no
sound that would tell them which way to go came out of this black
forest, and they remained silent, waiting for the word.

The night thickened and they were still uncertain what to do. Robert
made a silent prayer to the God of the white man, the Manitou of the