utmost good nature. "You
think you know Tayoga, but you don't yet know him fully."

"If I were not a Quaker I'd wager a small sum of money that he does
not come at the time appointed," said Wilton.

"Then it's lucky for your pocket that you're a Quaker," laughed
Willet.

It turned much colder that very afternoon, and the raw edge of winter
showed. The wind from the northwest was bitter and the dead leaves
fell in showers. At dusk a chilling rain began, and the young
soldiers, shivering, were glad enough to seek the shelter of the
blockhouse, where a great fire was blazing on the broad hearth. They
had made many rude camp stools and sitting down on one before the
blaze Wilton let the pleasant warmth fall upon his face.

"I'm sorry for Tayoga," he said to Robert. "Just when you and Willet
were boasting most about him this winter rain had to come and he was
no more than fairly started. He'll have to hunt a den somewhere in the
forest and crouch in it wrapped in his blanket."

Robert smiled serenely.

"Den! Crouch! Wrapped in his blanket! What do you mean?" he asked in
his mellow, golden voice. "Are you speaking of my friend, Tayoga, of
the Clan of the Bear, of the nation Onondaga, of the great League of
the Hodenosaunee? Can it be possible, Wilton, that you are referring
to him, when you talk of such humiliating subterfuges?"

"I refer to him and none other, Lennox. I see him now, stumbling about
in the deep forest, looking for shelter."

"No, Wilton, you don't see Tayoga. You merely see an idle figment of a
brain that does not yet fully know my friend, the great young Onondaga.
But _I_ see him, and I see him clearly. I behold a tall, strong figure,
head slightly bent against the rain, eyes that see in the dark as well
as yours see in the brightest sunlight, feet that move surely and
steadily in the path, never stumbling and never veering, tireless
muscles that carry him on without slackening."

"Dithyrambic again, Lennox. You are certainly loyal to your friend. As
for me, I'm glad I'm not out there in the black and wet forest. No
human being can keep to his pace at such a time."

Robert again smiled serenely, but he said nothing more. His confidence
was unlimited. Presently he wrapped around his body a rude but
serviceable overcoat of beaver skin that he had made for himself, and
went out. The cold, drizzling icy rain that creeps into one's veins
was still falling, and he shivered despite his furs. He looked