Part 9 (2/2)
”It is so, Dagaeoga. You talk almost like a man. At times you reason well. Finding that we are as patient as they are they will make a movement in an hour or two, though I think we are not likely to see it.”
”An hour or two? Then I think I'd better make myself comfortable again.”
He settled his body against the brown turf which was soft and soothing, and, in spite of himself, the wish for sleep returned. It was so quiet that one was really invited to go away to slumberland, and then he had eaten much at the big supper. After a long time, he was sinking into a doze when he was dragged back abruptly from it by a report almost at his ear that sounded like the roar of a cannon. He sat up convulsively, and saw Tayoga holding in his hand a smoking pistol.
”Did you hit anything?” he asked.
”I saw a stir in the bushes over there,” replied the Onondaga, ”and fired into them. I do not think my bullet found its target, but we will wait. I have ammunition in my pocket, and meanwhile I will reload.”
He put in the powder and ball, still keeping an eye on the bushes. He waited a full half hour and then he handed the pistol to Robert.
”Watch, and use it if need be,” he said, ”while I swim over and get the boat.”
”Get the boat! What are you talking about, Tayoga? Has the moon struck you with a madness?”
”Not at all, Dagaeoga. The slaver and the spy are gone, leaving behind them the boat which they could not take with them, and we might as well have it.”
”Are you sure of what you are saying?”
”Quite sure, Dagaeoga. But for precaution's sake you can watch well with the pistol and cover my approach.”
He thrust the weapon into Robert's hand, quickly threw off his clothing and sprang into the water, swimming with strong strokes toward the dense, high bushes that lined the opposite sh.o.r.e. Robert watched the lithe, brown figure cleave the water, disappear in the bushes and then reappear a moment or two later, rowing a boat. All had fallen out as the Onondaga had said, and he quickly came back to the western side.
”It is a good boat,” he said, ”a trophy of our victory, and we will use it. Take the oars, Dagaeoga, while I put on my clothes again. Our long wait is over.”
Robert sprang into the boat, while Tayoga, standing upon the bank, shook himself, making the drops fly from him in a shower.
”Which way did they go?” asked Robert.
”They crept down the stream among the bushes between the water and the cliff. They could force their bodies that way but not the boat. I felt sure they had gone after my pistol shot, because I saw some of the bushes moving a little against the wind farther down the stream. It was proof. Besides, they had to go, knowing that day would soon be here.”
He reclothed himself and stepped back into the boat, taking up the second pair of oars.
”Let us return to Albany in triumph by the river,” he said.
”You think there is no danger of our being fired upon from ambush?”
”None at all. The slaver and spy will be anxious to get away and escape observation. They would be glad enough to shoot at us, but they would never dare to risk it.”
”And so ours has been the triumph. Once more we've been victorious over our enemies, Tayoga.”
”But they will strike again, and Dagaeoga must beware.”
They rowed into the middle of the river and dropped slowly down the stream. Robert had so much confidence in the Onondaga that he felt quite safe for the present at least. It seemed to his sanguine temperament that as they had escaped every danger in the past so they would escape every one in the future. He was naturally a child of hope, in which he was fortunate.
The gray skies broke away in the east, and the dawn was unrolled, a blaze of rose and gold. The surface of the river glittered in the morning sun. The houses of Albany stood out sharp and clear in the first light of the morning.
”They'll be anxious about us at Mr. Huysman's,” said Robert.
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