trail, one of the many they had seen in the forest, but Tayoga observed
it with unusual attention.

"Why does it interest you so much?" asked Robert. "We've seen others
like it and you didn't examine them so long."

"This is different, Dagaeoga. Wait a minute or two more that I may
observe it more closely."

Young Lennox and Willet stood to one side, and the Onondaga, kneeling
down in the grass, studied the imprints. It was late in the afternoon,
and the light of the red sun fell upon his powerful body, and long,
refined, aristocratic face. That it was refined and aristocratic Robert
often felt, refined and aristocratic in the highest Indian way. In him
flowed the blood of unnumbered chiefs, and, above all, he was in himself
the very essence and spirit of a gentleman, one of the finest gentlemen
either Robert or Willet had ever known. Tayoga, too, had matured greatly
in the last year under the stern press of circumstance. Though but a
youth in years he was now, in reality, a great Onondaga warrior,
surpassed in skill, endurance and courage by none. Young Lennox and the
hunter waited in supreme confidence that he would read the trail and
read it right.

Still on his knees, he looked up, and Robert saw the light of discovery
in the dusky eyes.

"What do you read there, Tayoga?" he asked.

"Six men have passed here."