ans. Yet he and his warriors made obvious preparations for
battle, and, before Robert went to sleep, a gigantic figure stalked into
the firelight and regarded him with a grim gaze. The young prisoner's back
was turned at the moment, but he seemed to feel that fierce look, beating
like a wind upon his head, and, turning around, he looked full into the
eyes of Tandakora.

The huge Ojibway was more huge than ever. Robert was convinced that he was
the largest man he had ever seen, not only the tallest, but the broadest,
and the heaviest, and his very lack of clothing--he wore only a belt,
breech cloth, leggings and moccasins--seemed to increase his size. His vast
shoulders, chest and arms were covered with paint, and the scars of old
wounds, the whole giving to him the appearance of some primeval giant,
sinister and monstrous. He carried a fine, new rifle of French make and two
double barreled pistols; a tomahawk and knife swung from his belt.

Robert, nevertheless, met that full gaze firmly. He shut from his mind what
he might have had to suffer from Tandakora had the Ojibway held him a
captive in the forest, but here he was not Tandakora's prisoner, and he was
in the midst of the French army. Centering all his will and soul into the
effort he stared straight into the evil eyes of the Indian, until those of
his antagonist were turned away.

"The Owl has a prisoner whom I know," said Tandakora to Langlade.

"Aye, a sprightly lad," replied the partisan. "I took him before the winter
came, and I've been holding him at our village on Lake Ontario."

"It was he who, with the Onondaga, Tayoga, and the hunter, Willet, whom we
call the Great Bear, carried the letters from Corlear at New York to
Onontio at Quebec. The nations of the Hodenosaunee call him Dagaeoga, and
he is a danger to us. I would buy him from you. I will send to you for him
fifty of the finest buffalo robes taken from the great western plains."

"Not for fifty buffalo robes, Tandakora, no matter how fine they are."

"Ten packs of the finest beaver skins, fifty in each pack."

"It's no use to bid for him, Tandakora. I don't sell captives. Moreover, he
has passed out of my hands. I have had my reward for him. His fate rests
now with the Chevalier de St. Luc and the Marquis de Montcalm."

The Ojibway's face showed foiled malice. "It is a snake that the Owl warms
in his bosom," he said, and strode away. The partisan followed him with
observant eyes.

"It is e