"No, Tayoga," said Willet. "We can't let you risk yourself that way. But
we might go a little closer without any great danger. Ah, do you see
that new figure passing before the blaze?"

"Tandakora!" exclaimed the white youth and the red youth together.

"Nobody who knows him could mistake him, even at this distance. I think
he must be the biggest Indian in all the world."

"But a bullet would bring him crashing to earth as quickly as any
other," said the Onondaga.

"Aye, so it would, Tayoga, but his time hasn't come yet, though it will
come, and may we be present when your Manitou deals with him as he
deserves. Suppose we curve to the right through these thick bushes, and
from the slope there I think we can get a much better view of the band."

They advanced softly upon rising ground, and being able to approach two
or three hundred yards, saw quite clearly all those around the fire. The
white man was in truth De Courcelles, and the gigantic Indian, although
there could have been no mistake about him, was Tandakora, the Ojibway.
The warriors, about thirty in number, were, Willet thought, a mingling
of Ojibways, Pottawattomies and Ottawas. All were in war paint and were
heavily armed, many of them carrying big muskets with bayonets on the
end, taken from Braddock's fallen soldiers. Three had small swords
belted to their naked waists, not as weapons, but rather as the visible
emblems of triumph.

As he looked, Robert's head grew hot with the blood pumped up from his