The three, making a curve toward the east, traveled at high speed
through the rest of the night, Tayoga now leading and showing all his
inimitable skill as a forest trailer. In truth, the Onondaga was in his
element. His spirits, like Robert's, rose as dangers grew thicker around
them, and he had been affected less than either of his comrades by the
terrible slaughter of Braddock's men. Mentally at least, he was more of
a stoic, and woe to the vanquished was a part of the lore of all the
Indian tribes. The French and their allies had struck a heavy blow and
there was nothing left for the English and Americans to do but to strike
back. It was all very simple.

Day came, and at the suggestion of Willet they rested again in the
thickets. Robert was not really weary, at least the spirit uplifted him,
though he knew that he must not overtask the body. His enthusiasm, based
upon such a sanguine temperament, continued to rise. Again he foresaw
glittering success. They would shake off all their foes, reach the fort
in time, and lead the garrison and the people who had found refuge there
safely out of the wilderness.

Where they lay the bushes were very dense. Before hiding there they had
drunk abundantly at a little brook thirty or forty feet away, and now
they ate with content the venison that formed their breakfast. Over the
vast forest a brilliant sun was rising and here the leaves and grass
were not burned much by summer heat. It looked fresh and green, and the
wind sang pleasantly through its cool shadows. It appealed to Robert.
With his plastic nature he was all for the town when he was in town, and
now in the forest he was all for the forest.

"I can understand why you love it so well," he said to Tayoga, waving
his hand at the verdant world that curved about them.