t, clad in soft Indian
moccasins, enabled him to feel the faint track, imperceivable in the
darkness. It led along a steep bank, through low, tangled bushes, and
about great trees, with here and there a rock thrust across the path,
compelling detour. The branches scratched my face, and tore my dress,
confusing me so that had I not clung to his arm, I should have been
instantly lost in the gloom. Our advance was slow and cautious, every
step taken in silence. Snakes could not have moved with less noise,
and the precaution was well taken. Suddenly De Artigny stopped,
gripping me in warning. For a moment there was no sound, except the
distant murmur of waters, and the chatter of some night bird. Yet some
instinct of the woods held the man motionless, listening. A twig
cracked to our left, and then a voice spoke, low and rumbling. It
sounded so close at hand the fellow could scarcely have been five
yards away. Another voice answered, and we were aware of bodies,
stealing along through the wood; there was a faint rustling of dead
leaves, and the occasional swish of a branch. We crouched low in the
trail, fairly holding our breath, every nerve tense. There was no
sound from below, but in the other direction one warrior--I could see
the dim outline of his naked figure--passed within reach of my
outstretched hand.

Assured that all had passed beyond hearing De Artigny rose to his
feet, and assisted me to rise, his hand still grasping mine.

"Iroquois, by the look of that warrior," he whispered, "and enough of
them to mean mischief. I would I knew their language."

"'Twas the tongue of the Tuscaroras," I answered. "My father taught me
a little of it years ago. The first words spoken were a warning to be
still; the other answered that the white men are all asleep."

"And I am not sure but that is true. If De Tonty was in command the
walls would be well guarded, but De Baugis and Cassion know nothing of
Indian war."

"You believe it to be an assault?"

"It hath the look; 'tis not Indian nature to gather thus at this night
hour, without a purpose. But, _pouf_, there is little they can do
against that stockade of logs for all their numbers. It is our duty to
be well away by daylight."

The remaining distance to the water's edge was not far--a direct
descent amid a litter of rocks, shadowed by great trees. Nothing
opposed our passage, nor did we hear any sound from the savages
concealed in the forest above. De Artigny led th