my two natures, so to speak?"

"They alternate. At times you're a sensible boy."

"Boy? I'm older than you are!"

"One wouldn't think it. But a well bred Quaker never interrupts. As I
said, you're quite sensible at times and you ought to thank me for
saying so. At other times your mind loves folly. It fairly swims and
dives in the foolish pool, and it dives deepest when you're talking
about Tayoga. I trust, foolish young, sir, that I've heard the last
word of folly from you about the arrival of Tayoga, or rather what you
conceive will be his failure to arrive. Peace, not a word!"

"At least let me say this," protested Wilton. "I wish that I could
feel the absolute confidence in any human being that you so obviously
have in the Onondaga."

The night came, white and beautiful. It was white, because the Milky
Way was at its brightest, which was uncommonly bright, and every star
that ever showed itself in that latitude came out and danced. The
heavens were full of them, disporting themselves in clusters on
spangled seas, and the forest was all in light, paler than that of
day, but almost as vivid.

The Indians lighted several fires, well beyond rifle shot, and the
sentinels on the palisade distinctly saw their figures passing back
and forth before the blaze Robert also noticed the uniforms of
Frenchmen, and he thought it likely that De Courcelles and Jumonville
had with them more soldiers than he had supposed at first. The fires
burned at different points of the compass, and thus the fort was
encircled completely by them. Both young Lennox and Willet knew they
had been lighted that way purposely, that is in order to show to the
defenders that a belt of fire and steel was drawn close about them.

To Wilton at least the Indian circle seemed impassable, and despite
the enormous confidence of Robert he now had none at all himself. It
was impossible for Tayoga, even if he had triumphed over sleet and
snow and flood and storm, to pass so close a siege. He would not
speak of it again, but Robert had allowed himself to be deluded by
friendship. He felt sorry for his new friend, and he did not wish to
see his disappointment on the morrow.

Wilton was in charge of the guard until midnight, and then he slept
soundly until dawn, awakening to a brilliant day, the fit successor of
such a brilliant night. The Indian fires were still burning and he
could see the warriors beside them sleeping or eating at leisure.
They still form