They did not build any fire that night, but when they rose
at dawn they saw the smoke of somebody else's fire on the eastern
horizon.
"It couldn't be the enemy," said Willet. "He wouldn't let his smoke go
up here for all the world to see, so near to the home of Colonel
William Johnson and within the range of the Mohawks."
"That is so," said Tayoga. "It is likely to be some force of Colonel
Johnson himself, and we can advance with certainty."
Looking well to their arms in the possible contingency of a foe, they
pushed forward through the woodland, the smoke growing meanwhile as if
those who had built the fire either felt sure of friendly territory,
or were ready to challenge the world. The Onondaga presently held up a
hand and the three stopped.
"What is it, Tayoga?" asked the hunter.
"I wish to sing a song."
"Then sing it, Tayoga."
A bird suddenly gave forth a long, musical, thrilling note. It rose in
a series of trills, singularly penetrating, and died away in a
haunting echo. A few moments of silence and then from a point in the
forest in front of them another bird sang a like song.
"They are friends," said Tayoga, who was the first bird, "and it may
be, since we are within the range of the Mohawks, that it is our
friend, the great young chief Daganoweda, who replied.
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