Then they sank back among the bushes and remained quite
still.
Tayoga suddenly drew a deep and very long breath, which with him was
equivalent to an exclamation.
"What is it, Tayoga?" asked Robert.
"I saw a bit of a uniform, and I caught just a glimpse of a white
face."
"An officer. Then we were right in our surmise that the French are
here, leading the warriors."
"It was but a glimpse, but it showed the curve of his jaw and chin,
and I knew him. He is one who is beginning to be important in your
life, Dagaeoga."
"St. Luc."
"None other. I could not be mistaken. He is leading the attack upon
us. Perhaps Tandakora is with him. The Frenchman does not like the
Ojibway, but war makes strange comrades. That was close!"
A bullet whistled directly between them, and Tayoga, kneeling, fired
in return. There was no doubt about his aim, as a warrior uttered the
death cry, and a fierce shout of rage from a dozen throats followed.
Robert, imaginative, ready to flame up in a moment, exulted, not
because a warrior had fallen, but because the flank attack upon his
own people had been stopped in the beginning. St. Luc himself would
have admitted that the Americans, or the English, as he would have
called them, were acting wisely.
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