of Tandakora appeared in his place for a moment. Then the mists closed
in for a second time, and he saw through it only fleeting forms and
flashes of fire, when rifles and muskets were fired by the enemy.

His feeling of unreality increased. The elements themselves had
conspired to lend to everything a tinge weird and sinister to the last
degree. There was a lull for a little in the wind and rain, but
Andiatarocte was heaving, and great waves were chasing one another over
the surface of the water, after threatening to overturn the canoes and
boats for which both sides fought so fiercely. The thunder began to
mutter again, furnishing a low and menacing under note like the growling
of cannon in battle. Occasional streaks of lightning flashed anew across
the lake, revealing the strained faces of the combatants and tinging the
surface of the waters with red. Then both thunder and lightning ceased
again, and wind and rain came with a renewed sweep and roar.

Robert and Tayoga still occupied their captured long boat alone, and
they hovered near the edge of the battle, not ready to withdraw with the
prize until their entire force, whether victor or vanquished, turned
back from the island. Now and then Robert struck with his tomahawk at
some foe who came swimming to the attack, but, as the violence of the
storm grew, both he and Tayoga were compelled to take up their paddles,
and use all their skill to keep the boat from being capsized. The
shouting and the shots and the crash of the storm made a turmoil from
which he could detach little, but he knew that the keen eyes of the
Onondaga, dusk or no dusk, confusion or no confusion, would pierce to
the heart of things.

"What do you see, Tayoga?" he exclaimed. "How goes the battle?"

"I cannot see as much as I wish, Dagaeoga, but it turns in our favor. I
saw the Great Bear just then in a boat, and when the lightning flared
last I saw Daganoweda in another. Beware, Dagaeoga! Beware!"

His shout of warning was just in time. A figure rose out of the water
beside their boat, and aimed a frightful blow at him with a tomahawk. It
was an impulse coming chiefly from the words of Tayoga, but Robert threw
himself flat in the boat and the keen weapon whistled through the empty
air. He sprang up almost instantly, and, not having time to draw either
hatchet or knife, struck with his clenched fist at the dark face
glaring over the side of the boat. It was a convulsive effort, and the
fist