old him here. We've certain advantages that will help us
mightily."

"Thanks to you and your comrades for bringing us such timely warning,"
repeated Colden. "I'll confess that I did not suspect any enemy was
nearer than Champlain, and neither we nor our superiors at Albany have
feared an attack here."

"It's sure to come," said Willet.

Grosvenor, refreshed and reinvigorated, was taking an active share
in the preparations. He had smoothed and brushed his uniform with
scrupulous care, and despite the great hardships through which he
had passed, looked once more neat and trim. He had returned to his
incarnation as a trim young British officer. Adaptable and liking the
Americans, equipped moreover with a certain experience of the border,
he was at once on the best of terms with Colden, Wilton, Carson and
the others, and was, in truth, one of them. Wilton found him a belt
and a small sword, which he buckled on, and which as a badge of office
gave him a certain moral strength, making him in fact a thoroughly
happy man that morning.

Black Rifle, after food, had slid quietly into the forest to spy out
the enemy. Robert, flexible, vivid, his imagination always alive, was
with Tayoga, helping him with the breastworks, and keeping an eye at
the same time on the forest. The lake behind him stretched away, vast,
peaceful and beautiful, but he seldom looked at it now. He did not
anticipate danger that way. It would come through the woods.

A gradual slope, hemmed in on either side by high cliffs and only a
few hundred yards wide, led to the point on which the saw mill stood.
St. Luc must approach by the slope. The cliffs were impossible, and,
the longer he looked at it, the better Robert liked the position.
Daring men such as Colden had could hold it against a much larger
force. Let St. Luc come, he would find a brave and ready defense.

"Dagaeoga thinks we can hold the saw mill even against Sharp Sword,"
said Tayoga.

"How do you know I think it?"

"Because it is printed on Dagaeoga's face. When Dagaeoga's fancy is
alive, which is nearly all the time, his eyes speak and they tell one
very clearly what he thinks. His eyes say that the slope is narrow;
St. Luc can come that way only; we have here more than one hundred and
fifty good rifles; and in face of the storm of lead that we can send
against him he cannot rush us. That is what the eyes and face of
Dagaeoga say."

"You're right, Tayoga, that is what my brain thinks,