"I hope the need will not come," laughed the Onondaga.

Robert felt the truth of Willet's words, and he put restraint upon
himself, resolved that he would not be the first to propose the new
start. He had finished breakfast and he lay on his elbow gazing up
through the green tracery of the bushes at the sky. It was a wonderful
sky, a deep, soft, velvet blue, and it tinted the woods with glorious
and kindly hues. It seemed strange to Robert, at the moment, that a
forest so beautiful should bristle with danger, but he knew it too well
to allow its softness and air of innocence to deceive him.

It was almost the middle of the morning when Willet gave the word to
renew the march, and they soon saw they had extreme need of caution.
Evidence that warriors had passed was all about them. Now and then they
saw the faint imprint of a moccasin. Twice they found little painted
feathers that had fallen from a headdress or a scalplock, and once
Tayoga saw a red bead lying in the grass where it had dropped, perhaps,
from a legging.

"We shall have to pass by Tandakora's band and perhaps other bands in
the night," said Tayoga.

"It's possible, too," said Willet, "that they know we're on our way to
the fort, and may try to stop us. Our critical time will soon be at
hand."

They listened throughout the afternoon for the signals that bands might
make to one another, but heard nothing. Willet, in truth, was not
surprised.