's a question that's decided easily."

"You mean we'll stalk it, star or fire, whichever it may be?"

"That is what we're here for, Tayoga."

They began an exceedingly cautious advance toward the light, and it
soon became evident that it was a fire, though, as Tayoga had said, a
small one, set in a little valley and almost hidden by the surrounding
foliage. Now they redoubled their caution, using every forest art to
make a silent approach, as they might find a band of warriors around
the blaze, and they did not wish to walk with open eyes into any
such deadly trap. Their delight was great when they saw only one man
crouched over the coals in a sitting posture, his head bent over his
knees; so that, in effect, only his back was visible, but they knew
him at once. It was Garay.

The heart of young Lennox flamed with anger and triumph. Here was the
fellow who had tried to take his life in Albany, and, if he wished
revenge, the moment was full of opportunity. Yet he could never fire
at a man's back, and it was their cue, moreover, to take him alive.
Garay's rifle was leaning against a log, six or eight feet from him,
and his attitude indicated that he might be asleep. His clothing was
stained and torn, and he bore all the signs of a long journey and
extreme weariness.

"See what it is to come into the forest and not be master of all its
secrets," whispered Tayoga. "Garay is the messenger of Onontio (the
Governor General of Canada) and Tandakora, and yet he sleeps, when
those who oppose him are abroad."

"A man has to sleep some time or other," said Robert, "or at least a
white man must. We're not all like an Iroquois; we can't stay awake
forever if need be."

"If one goes to the land of Tarenyawagon when his enemies are at hand
he must pay the price, Dagaeoga, and now the price that Garay is going
to pay will be a high one. Surely Manitou has delivered him, helpless,
into our hands. Come, we will go closer."

They crept through the bushes until they could have reached out and
touched the spy with the muzzles of their rifles, and still he did not
stir. Into that heavy and weary brain, plunged into dulled slumbers,
entered no thought of a stalking foe. The fire sank and the bent
back sagged a little lower. Garay had traveled hard and long. He was
anxious to get back to Albany with what he knew, and he felt sure that
the northern forests contained only friends. He had built his fire
without apprehension, and sleep ha