ng summer day when Robert, from the crest of a
ridge, saw once more the vast sheet of water extending a hundred and
twenty-five miles north and south, that the Indians called Oneadatote and
the white men Champlain, and around which and upon which an adventurous
part of his own life had passed. His heart beat high, he felt now that the
stage was set again for great events, and that his comrades and he would,
as before, have a part in the war that was shaking the Old World as well as
the New.

In the afternoon they met rangers and before night they were in the camp of
Rogers, which included about three hundred men, and which was pitched in a
strong position at the edge of the lake. The Mountain Wolf greeted them
with great warmth.

"You're a redoubtable four," he said, "and I could wish that instead of
only four I was receiving four hundred like you."

He showed intense anxiety, and soon confided his reasons to Willet.

"You've brought me news," he said, "that a big war band is coming from the
west, and my scouts had told me already that a heavy force is to the
northward, and what is worst of all, the northern force is commanded by St.
Luc. It seems that he did not go south with Montcalm, but drew off an army
of both French and Indians for our destruction. He remembers his naval and
land defeat by us and naturally he wants revenge. He is helped, too, by the
complete command of the lake, that the French now hold. Since we've been
pressed southward we've lost Champlain."

"And of course St. Luc is eager to strike," said Willet. "He can recover
his lost laurels and serve France at the same time. If we're swept away
here, both the French and the Indians will pour down in a flood from Canada
upon the Province of New York."

Robert did not hear this talk, as he was seeking in the ranger camp the
repose that he needed so badly. He had brought with him some remnants of
food and the great buffalo robe that Tayoga had secured for him with so
much danger from the Indian village. Now he put down the robe, heaved a
mighty sigh of relief and said to the Onondaga:

"I'm proud of myself as a carrier, Tayoga, but I think I've had enough. I'm
glad the trail has ended squarely against the deep waters of Lake
Champlain."

"And yet, Dagaeoga, it is a fine robe."

"So it is. I should be the last to deny it, but now that we're with the
rangers I mean to carry nothing but my arms and ammunition. To appreciate
what it is to be without b