. We've forgotten our thirst in the news I bring, but
it will soon be on us again, fiercer and more burning than ever. And
we must have all our strength for the great task before us."

"I think it's better for all three of us to go down to the lake at
once," said Willet. "If anything happens we'll be together, and we are
stronger against danger, united than separated. I'll lead the way."

It was a long and slow descent, every step taken with minute care, and
as they approached the lake Robert found that his thirst was up and
leaping.

"I feel that I could drink the whole lake dry," he said.

"Do not do that, Dagaeoga," said Tayoga in his precise way. "Lake
George is too beautiful to be lost."

"We might swim across it," said Willet, looking at the silvery surface
of the water unbroken by the dark line of any canoe. "A way has opened
to us here, but we can't follow it now."

Robert knelt at the margin, and took a little drink first, letting the
cool water moisten his mouth and throat before he swallowed it. How
grateful it was! How wonderfully refreshing! One must almost perish
with thirst before he knew the enormous value of water. And when it
was found, one must know how to drink it right. He took a second and
somewhat larger drink. Then, waiting a while, he drank freely and as
much as he wanted. Strength, courage, optimism flowed back into his
veins. As they came down the cliff he had not seen any way to rescue
Grosvenor, nor did he see it now, but he knew that they would do it.
His restored body and mind would not admit the possibility of failure.

They remained nearly an hour in the shadow of the bushes at the
water's edge, and then began the slow and painful ascent to the niche,
which they reached without mishap. Another half hour there, and,
having examined well their arms, they climbed to the cliff's rim,
where they looked over, and Robert obtained his first view of the
Indian camp.

The feasting was over, the fires had sunk far down, and most of the
warriors were asleep, but Tandakora himself sat with his arms across
his chest, glowering into the coals, and a line of sentinels was set.
A red gleam from his uniform showed where Grosvenor, leaning against
a log, had fallen at last into a happy slumber, in which his desperate
case was forgotten for the time.

"I confess that I don't know how to do it, still it must be done,"
whispered the hunter.

"Yes, it must be done," the Onondaga whispered back. "We