replied Tayoga, "I am not a glutton, but I am yet
hungry, and I warn thee, O grudging medicine man, that I am growing
strong fast. I feel upon my arm muscles that were not there yesterday
and tomorrow or the next day my strength will be so great that I shall
take from you all the food of us both and eat it."

"By that time we won't have any left, and I shall have to take measures
to secure a new supply. I must go forth in search of game."

"Not today, nor yet tomorrow. It is too dangerous. You must wait until
the last moment. It is barely possible that the Great Bear or Black
Rifle may find us."

"I don't think so. We'll have to rely on ourselves. But at any rate,
I'll stay in the cave today, though I think the rain is about over.
Don't you see the sun shining in at the entrance? It's going to be a
fine day in the woods, Tayoga, but it won't be a fine day for us."

"That is true, Dagaeoga. It is hard to stay here in a hole in the rocks,
when the sun is shining and the earth is drying. The sun has brought
back the green to the leaves and the light now must be wonderful on
Andiatarocte and Oneadatote. Their waters shift and change with all the
colors of the rainbow. It fills me with longing when I think of these
things. Go now, Dagaeoga, and find the Great Bear, the Mountain Wolf and
Daganoweda. I am well past all danger from my wound, and I can take care
of myself."

"Tayoga, you talk like a foolish child. If I hear any more such words I
shall have to gag you, for two reasons, because they make a weariness in
my ear, and because if anyone else were to hear you he would think you
were weak of mind. It's your reputation for sanity that I'm thinking
about most. You and I stay here together, and when we leave we leave
together."

Tayoga said no more on the subject. He had known all the while that
Robert would not leave him, but he had wished to give him the chance. He
lay very quiet now for many hours, and Robert sitting at the door of the
cave, with his rifle across his knees, was also quiet. While a great
talker upon occasion, he had learned from the Iroquois the habit of
silence, when silence was needed, and it required no effort from him.

Though he did not speak he saw much. The stream, caused by the flood,
still flowed before the mouth of the cave, but it was diminishing
steadily. By the time night came it would sink to a thin thread and
vanish. The world itself, bathed and cleansed anew, was wonderfully
sweet