Part 16 (1/2)

Without further ado the three folded their blankets them and fell asleep on the leaves.

Robert, before closing his eyes, had felt a.s.sured that no harm would befall them while they were in the camp of de Courcelles, knowing that the French colonel could not permit any attack in his own camp upon those who bore an important message from the Governor of New York to the Governor General of Canada. Hence his heart was light as he was wafted away to the land of slumber, and it was light again when he awoke the next morning at the first rays of dawn.

Tayoga and Willet still slept, and he knew that they shared his confidence, else these wary rovers of the woods would have been watching rather than sleeping. Jumonville also was still rolled in his blankets, but de Courcelles was up, fully dressed, and alert. Several of the Canadians and Indians were building a fire. Robert's questing eye sought at once for the Ojibway, but he was gone, and the youth was not surprised. His departure in the night was a relief to everybody, even to the French, and Robert felt that an evil influence was removed. The air that for a s.p.a.ce the night before had been poisonous to the lungs was now pure and bracing. He took deep breaths, and his eyes sparkled as he looked at the vast green forest curving about them. Once more he felt to the full the beauty and majesty of the wilderness. Habit and use could never dull it for him.

De Courcelles turned upon him a frank and appreciative eye. Robert saw that he intended to be pleasant, even genial that morning, having no reason for not showing his better side, and the lad, who was learning not only to fence and parry with words, but also to take an intellectual pleasure in their use, was willing to meet him half way.

”I see, Mr. Lennox,” said de Courcelles gayly, ”that you are in a fine humor this morning. Your experience with the Ojibway has left no ill results. He departed in the night. One can never tell what strange ideas these savages will take into their heads.”

”I have forgotten it,” said Robert lightly. ”I knew that a French gentleman could not take the word of a wild Ojibway against ours.”

De Courcelles gave him a sharp glance, but the youth's face was a mask.

”At least,” he said, ”the matter is not one of which I could dispose.

Nor can any government take note of everything that pa.s.ses in a vast wilderness. I, too, shall forget it. Nor is it likely that it will ever be taken before the Marquis Duquesne. Come, our breakfast will soon be ready and your comrades are awakening.”

Robert walked down to a small brook, bathed his face, and returned to find the food ready. He did not wholly trust either de Courcelles or Jumonville, but their manners were good, and it was quite evident that they no longer wished to interfere with the progress of the mission.

Tayoga and Willet also seemed to have forgotten the episode of the night before, and asked no questions about Tandakora. After breakfast, the three put their canoe back in the river, and thanking their hosts for the courtesy of a night in their camp, shot out into the stream. De Courcelles and Jumonville, standing on the bank, waved them farewell, and they held their paddles aloft a moment or two in salute. Then a bend shut them from view.

”I don't trust them,” said Robert, after a long silence. ”This is our soil, but they march over it and calmly a.s.sume that it's their own.”

”King George claims it, and King Louis claims it, too,” said Willet in a whimsical tone, ”but I'm thinking it belongs to neither. The owners.h.i.+p, I dare say, will not be decided for many a year. Now, Tayoga, what do you think has become of that demon, Tandakora?”

The Onondaga looked at the walls of foliage on either side of the stream before answering.

”One cannot tell,” he said in his precise language of the schools. ”The mind of the Ojibway is a fitful thing, but always it is wild and lawless. He longs, night and day, for scalps, and he covets ours most.

It is because we have defeated the attempts he has made already.”

”Do you think he has gone ahead with the intention of ambus.h.i.+ng us?

Would he dare?”

”Yes, he would dare. If he were to succeed he would have little to fear.

A bullet in one of our hearts, fired from cover on the bank, and then the wilderness would swallow him up and hide him from pursuit. He could go to the country around the last and greatest of the lakes, where only the white trapper or explorer has been.”

”It gives me a tremendously uncomfortable feeling, Tayoga, to think that bloodthirsty wretch may be waiting for a shot at us. How are we to guard against him?”

”We must go fast and watch as we go. Our eyes are keen, and we may see him moving among the trees. The Ojibway is no marksman, and unless we sit still it is not likely that he can hit us.”

Tayoga spoke very calmly, but his words set Robert's heart to beating, understanding what an advantage Tandakora had if he sought to lie in ambush. He knew that the soul of the Ojibway was full of malice and that his craving for scalps was as strong as the Onondaga had said it was.

Had it been anyone else he would not follow them, but Robert foresaw in Tandakora a bitter and persistent enemy. Both he and Willet, feeling the wisdom of Tayoga's advice, began to paddle faster. But the hunter presently slowed down a little.

”No use to take so much out of ourselves now that we'll just creep along later on,” he said.

”The temptation to go fast is very strong,” said Robert. ”You feel then that you're really dodging bullets.”

Tayoga was looking far ahead toward a point where the stream became much narrower and both banks were densely wooded, as usual.

”If Tandakora really means to ambush us,” he said, ”he will be there, because it offers the best opportunity, and it is a place that the heart of a murderer would love. Suppose that Dagaeoga and I paddle, and that the Great Bear rests with his rifle across his knees ready to fire at the first flash. We know what a wonderful marksman the Great Bear is, and it may be Tandakora who will fall.”