"It is the one chance that Tododaho has offered to us, and we must take
it," said Tayoga, as he led the way upon the natural bridge. Robert
followed promptly and Willet brought up the rear.

The banks were high at that point, and the river flowed rather more
swiftly than usual. Robert, ten feet beyond the southern shore, looked
down at a dark and sullen current, seeming in the dim moonlight to have
interminable depths. It was only about fifteen feet below him, but his
imagination, heightened by time and place, made the distance three or
fourfold greater.

He felt a momentary fear lest he slip and fall into the dark stream, and
he clung tightly to an upthrust bough.

The fallen tree swayed a little with the weight of the three, but Robert
knew that it was safe. It was not the bridge that they had to fear, but
what awaited them on the farther shore. Tayoga stopped, and the tense
manner in which he crouched among the boughs and leaves showed that he
was listening with all his ears.

"Do you hear them?" Robert whispered.

"Not their footsteps," Tayoga whispered back, "but there was a soft call
in the woods, the low cry of a night bird, and then the low cry of
another night bird replying. It was the warriors signaling to one
another, the first signal they have given."

"I heard the cries, too," said Willet, behind Robert, "and no doubt
Tandakora and De Courcelles feel they are closing in on us. It's a good