e is no spring here," said Tayoga. "We know that because we
came up the cliff. There is no water for us this side of the lake."

The afternoon, long as it was, ended at last. The intense burning
sunlight faded, and the cool, grateful shadows came. The three stirred
in the niche, and Robert felt a little relief. But his throat and
mouth were still dry and hard, and they pained him whenever he talked.
Yet they forced themselves to eat a scant supper, although the food
increased their thirst, but they knew that without it their strength
would decrease, and they expected to obtain water in the dark.

The twilight passed, night came, but they waited with infinite
patience refusing to move too soon, despite their great thirst.
Instead, Tayoga suggested that he go to the crest of the cliff and
see if there was a possible way out for them in that direction. Willet
agreed, and the Onondaga crept up, without sound, disappearing in a
few seconds among the short bushes that hung in the face of the cliff.

Tayoga was a trailer of surpassing skill, and he reached the top
without rustling a bush or sending a single pebble rolling. Then he
peered cautiously over the rim and beheld a great fire burning not
more than a hundred yards away. Thirty or forty warriors were sitting
around it, eating. He did not see Tandakora among them, but he
surmised, that it was an allied band and that the Ojibway was not far
off.

The feast that the three had expected was in full progress. The hunt
had been successful, and the Indians, with their usual appetites, were
enjoying the results. They broiled or roasted great pieces of deer
over the coals, and then devoured them to the last shred. But Tayoga
saw that while the majority were absorbed in their pleasant task, a
half dozen sentinels, their line extending on either side of the camp,
kept vigilant watch. It would be impossible for the three to pass
there. They would have to go down to the lake for water, and then hide
in their niche.

Tayoga was about to turn back from the cliff, when he heard a shout
that he knew was full of significance. He understood the meaning of
every cry and he translated it at once into a note of triumph. It
sounded like the whoop over the taking of a scalp or the capture of a
prisoner, and his curiosity was aroused. Something had happened, and
he was resolved to see what it was.

Several of the warriors by the fire replied to the whoop, and then it
came again, nearer bu