re the camp
was absolutely silent, only the thin and shadowy figures of the bronze
sentinels showing through the misty gloom. Robert lay down again and
Tarenyawagon, the sender of dreams, held him in his spell. His excited
brain, even in sleep, was a great sensitive plate, upon which pictures,
vivid and highly colored, were passing in a gorgeous procession.

Now, Tarenyawagon carried him forward and not back. They met St. Luc in
battle, and it was dark and bloody. How it ended he did not know,
because a veil was dropped over it suddenly, and then he was in the
forest with Tayoga, fleeing for his life once more from Tandakora, De
Courcelles and their savage band. Nor was it given to him to know how
the pursuit ended, because the veil fell again suddenly, and when it was
lifted he was in a confused and terrible battle not far from a lake,
where French soldiers, American soldiers and English soldiers were
mingled in horrible conflict. For some strange reason, one that he
wondered at then, he stood among the French, but while he wondered, and
while the combat increased in ferocity the veil slipped down and it was
all gone like a mist. Then came other pictures, vivid in color, but
vague in detail, that might or might not be scenes in his future life,
and he awoke at last to find the dawn had come.

Tayoga was already awake and handed him a piece of venison.

"Eat, Dagaeoga," he said, "and drink at the little spring in the wood on
our right. I have learned what Haace and Black Rifle saw in the night,
and we march in half an hour."

Robert did more than drink at the spring; he also bathed his face, neck
and hands at the little brook that ran away from it, and although
Tarenyawagon had been busy shifting his kaleidoscope before him while he
slept, he was as much refreshed as if he had slumbered without dreams.
The dawn, clear but hot in the great forest, brought with it zeal and
confidence. They would follow on the trail of the French and Indian
leaders, and he believed, as surely as a battle came, that Willet,
Rogers, Daganoweda and their men would be the victors.

As soon as the brief and cold breakfast was finished the hundred
departed silently. The white rangers wore forest dress dyed green that
blended with the foliage, and the Mohawks still wore scarcely anything
at all. It was marvelous the way in which they traveled, and it would
not have been possible to say that white man or red man was the better.
Robert heard n