way. I have been outside with Black Rifle, and we have been
into the edge of the forest. Sharp Sword makes a big camp, and shows
all the signs of intending to stay long. We may yet lose the sawmill.
It is best to understand the full danger. What does Dagaeoga mean to
do now?"

"I think I'll go back to the water's edge, and help keep the watch
there. That seems to be my place."

He found Wilton still in command of the lake guard, and Grosvenor
with him. The young Quaker had been shocked by the grim battle, but he
showed a brave front nevertheless. He had put on his military cloak to
protect himself from the rain, and Robert and Grosvenor had borrowed
others for the same purpose.

"We've won a victory," said Wilton, "but, as I gather, it's not final.
That St. Luc, whose name seems to inspire so much terror, will come
again. Am I not right, Lennox?"

"You're right, Wilton. St. Luc will come not a second time only, but a
third, and a fourth, if necessary."

"And can't we expect any help? We're supposed to have command of this
lake for the present."

"I know of none."

The three walked up and down, listening to the mournful lapping of the
waves on the beach, and the sigh of the dripping rain. The stimulus
of excited action had passed and they felt heavy and depressed. They
could see only a few yards over the lake, and must depend there upon
ear to warn them of a new attack that way. The fact added to their
worries, but luckily Tayoga, with his amazing powers of hearing,
joined them, establishing at once what was in effect a listening
post, although it was not called then by that name. Wilton drew
much strength from the presence of the Onondaga, while it made the
confidence of Grosvenor supreme.

"Now we'll surely know if they come," he said.

A long while passed without a sign, but they did not relax their
vigilance a particle, and Tayoga interpreted the darkness for them.

"There was a little wind," he said, after a while, "but it is almost
dead now. The waves are running no longer. I hear a slight sound to
the south which was not there before."

"I hear nothing, Tayoga," said Robert.

"Perhaps not, Dagaeoga, but I hear it, which is enough. The sound is
quite faint, but it is regular like the beating of a pulse. Now I can
tell what it is. It is the stroke of a paddle. There is a canoe upon
the lake, passing in front of us. It is not the canoe of a friend, or
it would come at once to the land. It contains onl