lking that no commands could suppress, the
heavy tread of the regiments and the clank of metal. That wild region
had seen many a battle, but never before had it been invaded by armies
so great as those of Dieskau and Johnson, which were about to meet in
deadly combat.

His apprehensions grew. The absence of sounds save those made by
themselves, the lack of hostile presence, not even a single warrior or
Frenchman being visible, filled him with foreboding. It was just this
way, when he marched with Braddock, only the empty forest, and no sign
of deadly danger.

"Tayoga! Tayoga!" he whispered anxiously. "I don't like it."

"Nor do I, Dagaeoga."

"Think you we are likely to march into an ambush again?"

"Tododaho on his star is silent. He whispers nothing to me, yet I
believe the trap is set, just ahead, and we march straight into it."

"And it's to be another Duquesne?"

"I did not say so, Dagaeoga. The trap will shut upon us, but we may
burst it. Behold the Mohawks, the valiant Ganeagaono! Behold all the
brave white men who are used to the forest and its ways! It is a strong
trap that can hold them, one stronger, I think, than any the sons of
Onontio and their savage allies can build."

Robert's heart leaped up at the brave words of Tayoga.

"I think so, too," he said. "It may be an ambush, but if so we will
break from it. Old Hendrik tried to stop 'em, to keep all our force
together, but since he couldn't do it, he's riding at the very head of
this column, a shining target for hidden rifles."

"Hendrik is a great sachem, and as he is now old and grown feeble of the
body, though not of the mind, this may well be his last and most
glorious day."

"I hope he won't fall."

"Perhaps he may wish it thus. There could be no more fitting death for a
great sachem."

They ceased talking, but both continued to watch the forest on either
side with trained eyes. There was no wind, though now and then Robert
thought he saw a bough or a bush move, indicating the presence of a
hidden foe. But he invariably knew the next instant that it was merely
the product of an uncommonly vivid imagination, always kindling into a
burning fire in moments of extreme danger. No, there was nothing in the
woods, at least, nothing that he could see.

Ahead of him the band of Mohawks, old Hendrik on horseback at their
head, marched steadily on, warily watching the woods and thickets for
their enemies. They, at least, were in thorough keepin