to war, shuddered in spite of himself at the memory of that terrible
battle in the leafy wilderness. Nor was Tayoga, the young Onondaga,
free from emotion when he thought of Braddock's defeat, and the blazing
triumph it meant for the western tribes, the enemies of his people.

They had turned back, availing themselves of their roving commission,
when they saw that the victors were not pursuing the remains of the
beaten army, and now they were watching the French and Indians. Fort
Duquesne was not many miles away, but the fire on the hill had been
built by a party of Indians led by a Frenchman, his uniform showing when
he passed between eye and flame, the warriors being naked save for the
breech cloth.

"I hope it's not St. Luc," said Robert.

"Why?" asked Willet. "He was in the battle. We saw him leading on the
Indian hosts."

"I know. That was fair combat, I suppose, and the French used the tools
they had. The Chevalier could scarcely have been a loyal son of France
if he had not fought us then, but I don't like to think of him over
there by the fire, leading a band of Indians who will kill and scalp
women and children as well as men along the border."

"Nor I, either, though I'm not worried about it. I can't tell who the
man is, but I know it's not St. Luc. Now I see him black against the
blaze, and it's not the Chevalier's figure."

Robert suddenly drew a long breath, as if he had made a surprising
recognition.