d and stout
to march on foot, and he rode at the head of his warriors on a horse,
lent him by Colonel Johnson, an unusual spectacle among the Iroquois,
who knew little of horses, and cared less about them.

This was the main force, and the Philadelphia troop, with Robert, Tayoga
and Grosvenor, was close behind the Iroquois as they plunged into the
deep woods bordering the lake, a mass of tangled wilderness that might
well house a thousand ambushes. Grosvenor glanced about him
apprehensively.

"I don't like the looks of it," he said. "It reminds me too much of the
forest into which we marched with Braddock, God rest his soul!"

"I wasn't there," said young Captain Colden, "but Heaven knows I've
heard enough horrible tales about it, and I've seen enough of the French
and Indians to know they're expert at deadly snares."

"But we fight cunning with cunning," said Robert, cheerfully. "Look at
the Mohawks ahead. There are two hundred of 'em, and every one of 'em
has a hundred eyes."

"And look at old Hendrik, trotting along in the very lead on his horse,"
said Wilton. "I'm a man of peace, a Quaker, as you know, but my
Quakerish soul leaps to see that gallant Indian, old enough to be the
grandfather of us all, showing the way."

"Bravery and self-sacrifice are quite common among Indians. You'll learn
that," said Robert. "Now, watch with all your eyes, every man of you,
and notice anything that stirs in the brush."

Despite himself, Robert's own mind turned back to Braddock also, and all
the incidents of the forest march that had so terrible an ending.
Johnson's army knew more of the wilderness than Braddock's, but the
hostile force was also far superior to the one that had fought at
Duquesne. The French were many times more numerous here than there, and,
although he had spoken brave words, his heart sank. Like the old Mohawk
chief, he knew the army should not have been divided.

The region was majestic and beautiful. Not far away lay the lake,
Andiatarocte, glittering in the sun. Around them stretched the primeval
forest, in which the green was touched with the brown of late summer.
Above them towered the mountains. The wilderness, picturesque and grand,
gave forth no sound, save that of their own marching. The regiments of
Williams and Whiting followed the Mohawks, and the New England and New
York men were confident.

Robert heard behind him the deep hum and murmur that an advancing army
makes, the sound of men ta