Part 2 (2/2)
”There is no signal,” whispered Tayoga at last. ”They do not even imitate the cry of bird or beast, and it proves one thing, Great Bear.”
”So it does, Tayoga.”
”You know as well as I do, Great Bear, that they make no sound because they have set the trap, and they do not wish to alarm the game which they expect to walk into it.”
”Even so, Tayoga. Our minds travel in the same channel.”
”But the game is suspicious, nevertheless,” continued Tayoga in his precise school English, ”and the trap will not fall.”
”No, Tayoga, it won't fall, because the game won't walk into it.”
”Tandakora will suffer great disappointment. He is a mighty hunter and he has hunted mighty game, but the game that he hunts now is more wary than the stag or the bear, and has greater power to strike back than either.”
”Well spoken, Tayoga.”
The hunter and the Onondaga looked at each other in the dark and laughed. Their spirits were as wild as the wilderness, and they were enjoying the prospect of the Ojibway's empty trap. Robert laughed with them. Already in his eager mind success was achieved and the crossing was made. After a while he saw dim silver through the trees, and he knew they had come to the river. Then the three sank down and approached inch by inch, sure that De Courcelles, Tandakora and their forces would be watching on the other side.
CHAPTER II
THE KINDLY BRIDGE
The thicket in which the three lay was of low but dense bushes, with high gra.s.s growing wherever the sun could reach it. In the gra.s.s tiny wild flowers, purple, blue and white were in bloom, and Robert inhaled their faint odor as he crouched, watching for the enemy who sought his life. It was a forest scene, the beauty of which would have pleased him at any other time, nor was he wholly unconscious of it now. The river itself, as Tayoga had stated, was narrow. At some points it did not seem to be more than ten or fifteen yards across, but it flowed in a slow, heavy current, showing depths below. Nor could he see, looking up and down the stream, any prospect of a ford.
Robert's gaze moved in an eager quest along the far sh.o.r.e, but he detected no sign of Tandakora, the Frenchman or their men. Yet he felt that Tayoga and Willet were right and that foes were on watch there. It was inevitable, because it was just the place where they could wait best for the three. Nevertheless he asked, though it was merely to confirm his own belief.
”Do you think they're in the brush, Dave?”
”Not a doubt of it, Robert,” the hunter whispered back. ”They haven't seen us yet, but they hope to do so soon.”
”And we also, who haven't seen them yet, hope to do so soon.”
”Aye, Robert, that's the fact. Ah, I think I catch a glimpse of them now. Tayoga, wouldn't you say that the reflection in the big green bush across the river is caused by a moonbeam falling on a burnished rifle barrel?”
”Not a doubt of it, Great Bear. Now, I see the rifle itself! And now I see the hands that hold it. The hands belong to a live warrior, an Ojibway, or a Pottowattomie. He is kneeling, waiting for a shot, if he should find anything to shoot at.”
”I see him, too, Tayoga, and there are three more warriors just beyond him. It's certainly the band of Tandakora and De Courcelles, and they've set a beautiful trap for three who will not come into it.”
”It is so, Great Bear. One may build a splendid bear trap but of what use is it if the bear stays away?”
”But what are we to do?” asked Robert. ”We can't cross in the face of such a force.”
”We'll go down the stream,” replied Willet, ”keeping hidden, of course, in the thickets, and look for a chance to pa.s.s. Of course, they've sent men in both directions along the bank, but we may go farther than any of them.”
He led the way, and they went cautiously through the thickets two or three miles, all the time intently watching the other sh.o.r.e. Twice they saw Indian sentinels on watch, and knew that they could not risk the pa.s.sage. Finally they stopped and waited a full two hours in the thickets, the contest becoming one of patience.
Meanwhile the night was absolutely silent. The wind was dead, and the leaves hung straight down. The deep, slow current of the river, although flowing between narrow banks, made no noise, and Robert's mind, colored by the conditions of the moment, began to believe that the enemy had gone away. It was impossible for them to wait so long for foresters whom they did not see and who might never come. Then he dismissed imagination and impression, and turned with a wrench to his judgment. He knew enough of the warriors of the wilderness to know that n.o.body could wait longer than they. Patience was one of the chief commodities of savage life, because their habits were not complex, and all the time in the world was theirs.
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