Part 40 (2/2)

But Robert did not yet know any of these facts. He was conscious only of victory. He heard the triumphant cheers of Wolfe's army and he saw that the French had stopped, then that they were breaking. He felt again that powerful thrill, but now it was the thrill of victory.

”We win! We win!” he cried.

”Aye, so we do,” said Willet, ”but here are the Canadians and Indians trying to wipe out us rangers.”

The fire in front of them from the knolls and bushes redoubled, but the rangers, adept at such combats, pressed forward, pouring in their bullets. The Canadians and Indians gave ground and the rangers, circling about, attacked them on the flank. Tayoga suddenly uttered a fierce shout and, dropping his rifle, leaped into the open.

”Now, O Tandakora!” he cried. ”The time has come and thou hast given me the chance!”

The gigantic figure of Tandakora emerged from the smoke, and the two, tomahawk in hand, faced each other.

”It is you, Tayoga, of the clan of the Bear, of the nation Onondaga, of the league of the Hodenosaunee,” said the chief. ”So you have come at last that I may spit upon your dead body. I have long sought this moment.”

”Not longer than I, Ojibway savage!” replied Tayoga. ”Now you shall know what it is to strike an Onondaga in the mouth, when he is bound and helpless.”

The huge warrior threw back his head and laughed.

”Look your last at the skies, Onondaga,” he said, ”because you will soon pa.s.s into silence and darkness. It is not for a great chief to be slain by a mere boy.”

Tayoga said no more, but gazed steadily into the eyes of the Ojibway.

Then the two circled slowly, each intently watching every movement of the other. The great body of Tandakora was poised like that of a panther, the huge muscles rippling under his bronze skin. But the slender figure of Tayoga was instinct also with strength, and with an incomparable grace and lightness. He seemed to move without effort, like a beam of light.

Tandakora crouched as he moved slowly toward the right. Then his arm suddenly shot back and he hurled his tomahawk with incredible force. The Onondaga threw his head to one side and the glittering blade, flying on, clove a ranger to the chin. Then Tayoga threw his own weapon, but Tandakora, with a quick s.h.i.+ft evading it, drew his knife and, rus.h.i.+ng in, cried:

”Now I have you, dog of an Onondaga!”

Not in vain was Tayoga as swift as a beam of light. Not in vain was that light figure made of wrought steel. Leaping to one side, he drew his own knife and struck with all his might at the heart of that huge, rus.h.i.+ng figure. The blade went true, and so tremendous was the blow that Tandakora, falling in a heap, gave up his fierce and savage soul.

”They run! They run!” cried Robert. ”The whole French army is running!”

It was true. The entire French force was pouring back toward the gates of the city, their leaders vainly trying to rally the soldiers. The skirmishers fell back with them. A figure, darting from a bush, turned to pull trigger on Robert, and then uttered a cry of terror.

”A ghost! It is a ghost!” he exclaimed in French.

But a second look told Achille Garay that it was no ghost. It may have been a miracle, but it was Robert Lennox come back in the flesh, and his finger returned to the trigger. Another was quicker. The hunter saw him.

”That for you, Garay!” he cried, and sent a bullet through the spy's heart. Then, drawing the two lads with him, he rushed forward in pursuit.

The confusion in the French army was increasing. Its defeat was fast becoming a rout, but some of the officers still strove to stay the panic. Robert saw one on a white horse gallop before a huddle of fleeing men. But the soldiers, swerving, ran on. A bullet struck the horse and he fell. The man leaped clear, but looked around in a dazed manner. Then a bullet struck him too, and he staggered. Robert with a cry rushed forward, and received into his arms the falling figure of St. Luc.

He eased the Chevalier to the ground and rested his head upon his knee.

”He isn't dead!” he exclaimed. ”He's only shot through the shoulder!”

”Now, this is in truth the hand of Providence,” said Willet gravely, ”when you are here in the height of a great battle to break the fall of your own uncle!”

”My uncle!” exclaimed Robert.

The Chevalier Raymond Louis de St. Luc smiled wanly.

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