They saw the autumn reach its full glory. The wilderness glowed in
intense yellows and reds. The days grew cool, and the nights cold, the
air was crisp and fresh like the breath of life, the young men felt
their muscles expand and their courage rise, and they longed for the
appearance of the enemy, sure that behind their stout palisade they
would be able to defeat whatever numbers came.
Tayoga left them early one morning for a visit to his people. The
leaves were falling then under a sharp west wind, and the sky had a
cold, hard tint of blue steel. Winter was not far away, but the day
suited a runner like Tayoga who wished to make speed through the
wilderness. He stood for a moment or two at the edge of the forest, a
strong, slender figure outlined against the brown, waved his hand to
his friends watching on the palisade, and then disappeared.
"A great Indian," said young Wilton thoughtfully. "I confess that I
never knew much about the red men or thought much about them until I
met him. I don't recall having come into contact with a finer mind of
its kind."
"Most of the white people make the mistake of undervaluing the
Indians," said Robert, "but we'll learn in this war what a power they
are.
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