e conflict now growing more fierce, and then, fastening
Tayoga's rifle on his back with his own, he lifted his wounded comrade
in his arms and walked westward, away from the battle.

CHAPTER XI

THE COMRADES

Robert settled the inert form of the Onondaga against his left shoulder,
and, being naturally very strong, with a strength greatly increased by a
long life in the woods, he was able to carry the weight easily. He had
no plan yet in his mind, merely a vague resolve to carry Tayoga outside
the fighting zone and then do what he could to resuscitate him. It was
an unfortunate chance that the hostile flankers had cut in between him
and the main force of Rogers, but it could not be helped, and the
farther he was from his own people the safer would he and Tayoga be.

Two hundred yards more and putting his comrade on the ground he cut away
the deerskin, disclosing the wound. The bullet had gone almost through
the shoulder, and as he felt of its path he knew with joy that it had
touched no bone. Then, unless the loss of blood became great, it could
not prove mortal. But the bullet was of heavy type, fired from the old
smoothbore musket and the shock had been severe. Although it had not
gone quite through the shoulder he could feel it near the surface, and
he decided at once upon rude but effective surgery.

Laying Tayoga upon his face, he drew his keen hunting knife and cut
boldly into the flesh of the shoulder until he reached the bullet. Then
he pried it out with the point of the knife, and threw it away in the
bushes. A rush of blood followed and Tayoga groaned, but Robert, rapidly
cutting the Onondaga's deerskin tunic into suitable strips, bound
tightly and with skill both the entrance and the exit of the wound. The
flow of blood was stopped, and he breathed a fervent prayer of
thankfulness to the white man's God and the red man's Manitou. Tayoga
would live, and he knew that he had saved the life of his comrade, as
that comrade had more than once saved his.

Yet both were still surrounded by appalling dangers. At any moment St.
Luc's savages might burst through the woods and be upon them. As he
finished tying the bandage and stood erect the flare of the fighting
came from a point much nearer, though between them and the ranger band,
forbidding any possible attempt to rejoin Rogers and Willet. Tayoga
opened his eyes, though he saw darkly, through a veil, and said in
feeble tones:

"They have closed again