Chapter 2: The Live Canoe

Robert was fully aware that their peril was not yet over--the Indians, too, might have canoes upon the lake--but he considered that the bulk of it had passed. So his heart was light, and, as they shot out toward the middle of Andiatarocte, he talked of the pursuit and the manner in which he had escaped it.

“I was led the right way by a bird, one that sang,” he said. “Your Manitou, Tayoga, sent that bird to save me.”

“You don’t really believe it came for that special purpose?” asked the hunter.

“Why not?” interrupted the Onondaga. “We do know that miracles are done often. My nation and all the nations of the Hodenosaunee have long known it. If Manitou wishes to stretch out his hand and snatch Dagaeoga from his foes it is not for us to ask his reason why.”

Willet was silent. He would not say anything to disturb the belief of Tayoga, he was never one to attack anybody’s religion, besides he was not sure that he did not believe, himself.

“We know too,” continued Tayoga devoutly, “that Tododaho, the mighty Onondaga chief who went away to his star more than four hundred years ago, and who sits there watching over the Hodenosaunee has intervened more than once in our behalf. He is an arm of Manitou and acts for him.”

He looked up. The sky was hidden by the thick darkness. No ray of silver or gray showed anywhere, but the Onondaga knew where lay the star upon which sat his patron saint with the wise snakes, coil on coil, in his hair. He felt that through the banks of mist and vapor Tododaho was watching over him, and, as long as he tried to live the right way taught to him by his fathers, the great Onondaga chieftain would lead him through all perils, even as the bird in brilliant blue plumage had shown Robert the path from the pursuit of Tandakora. The sublime faith of Tayoga never wavered for an instant.

The wind rose a little, a heavy swell stirred the lake and their light craft swayed with vigor, but the two youths were expert canoemen, none better in all the wilderness, and it shipped no water. The hunter, sitting with his hands on his rifle, did not stir, nor did he speak for a long time. Willet, at that moment, shared the faith of his two younger comrades. He was grateful too because once more they had found Robert, for whom he had all the affection of a father. The three reunited were far stronger than the three scattered, and he did not believe that any force on the lakes or in the mountains could trap them. But his questing eyes watched the vast oblong of the lake, looking continually for a sign, whether that of friend or foe.

“What did you find, Robert?” he asked at last.

“Nothing but the band of Tandakora,” replied the lad, with a light laugh. “I took my way squarely into trouble, and then I had hard work taking it out again. I don’t know what would have happened to me, if you two hadn’t come in the canoe.”

“It seems,” said the Onondaga, in his whimsical precise manner, “that a large part of our lives, Great Bear, is spent in rescuing Dagaeoga.

Do you think when we go into the Great Beyond and arrive at the feet of Manitou, and he asks us what we have done with our time on earth, he will put it to our credit when we reply that we consumed at least ten years saving Dagaeoga from his enemies?”

“Yes, Tayoga, we’ll get white marks for it, because Robert has also saved us, and there is no nobler work than saving one’s fellow creatures. Manitou knows also that it is hard to live in the wilderness and a man must spend a lot of his time escaping death. Look to the east, Tayoga, lad, and tell me if you think that’s a point of light on the mountain over there.”

The Onondaga studied intently the dark wall of the east, and presently his eyes picked out a dot against its background, infinitesimal like the light of a firefly, but not to be ignored by expert woodsmen.

“Yes, Great Bear,” he replied, “I see it is not larger than the littlest star, but it moves from side to side, and I think it is a signal.”

“So do I, lad. The lake is narrow here, and the answer, if there be any, will come from the west shore. Now we’ll look, all together.

Three pairs of eyes are better than one.”

The two lads ceased paddling, holding the canoe steady, with an occasional stroke, and began to search the western cliffs in methodical fashion, letting the eye travel from the farthest point in the north gradually toward the south, and neglecting no place in the dark expanse.

“There it is!” exclaimed Robert. “Almost opposite us! I believe it’s in the very cliff at the point of which I lay!”

“See it, winking and blinking away.”

“Yes, that’s it,” said Robert. “Now I wonder what those two lights are saying to each other across Lake George?”

“It might be worth one’s while to know, for they’re surely signaling.

It may be about us, or it may be about the army in the south.”

“I didn’t find anything but trouble,” said Robert. “Now what did you and Tayoga find?”

“Plenty traces of both white men and red,” replied the hunter. “The forests were full of French and Indians. I think St. Luc with a powerful force is near the north end of Lake George, and the Marquis de Montcalm will soon be at Ticonderoga to meet us.”

“But we’ll sweep him away when our great army comes up from New York.”

“So we should, lad, but the Marquis is an able general, wily and brave. He showed his quality at Fort William Henry and we mustn’t underrate him, though I am afraid that’s what we’ll do; besides the forest fights for the defense.”

“It’s not like you to be despondent, Dave,” said Robert.

“I’m not, lad. I’ve just a feeling that we should be mighty cautious.

Some think the Marquis won’t stand when our big army comes, but I do, and I look for a great battle on the shores of either George or Champlain.”

“And we’ll win it,” said Robert in sanguine tones.

“That rests on the knees of the gods,” said Willet thoughtfully. “But we’ve got to deal with one thing at a time. It’s our business now to escape from the people who are making those lights wink at each other, or the battle wherever it’s fought or whoever wins won’t include us because we’ll be off on another star, maybe sitting at the feet of Tayoga’s Tododaho.”

“There’s another light on the west shore toward the south,” said the Onondaga.

“And a fourth on the eastern cliff also toward the south,” added Robert. “All four of them are winking now. It seems to be a general conversation.”

“And I wish we could understand their language,” said the hunter earnestly. “I’m thinking, however, that they’re talking about us. They must have found out in some manner that we’re on the lake, and they want to take us.”

“Then,” said Robert, “it’s time for Manitou to send a heavy mist that we may escape in it.”

“Manitou can work miracles for those whom he favors,” said Tayoga,

“and now and then he sends them, but oftenest he withholds his hand, lest we become spoiled and rely upon him when we should rely upon ourselves.”

“You never spoke a truer word, Tayoga,” said the hunter. “It’s the same as saying that heaven helps those who help themselves, and we’ve got to do a lot of work for ourselves this night. I think the Indian canoes are already on Andiatarocte looking for us.”

Robert would have felt a chill had it not been for the presence of his comrades. The danger was unknown, mysterious, it might come from any point, and, while the foe prepared, they must wait until he disclosed himself. Waiting was the hardest thing to do.

“I think we’d better stay just where we are for a while,” said the hunter. “It would be foolish to use our strength, until we know what we are using it for. It’s certain that Manitou intends to let us fend for ourselves because the night is lightening, which is a hard thing for fugitives.”

The clouds floated away toward the north, a star came out, then another, and then a cluster, the lofty shores on either side rose up clear and distinct, no longer vague black walls, the surface of the water turned to gray, but it was still swept by a heavy swell, in which the canoe rocked. Willet finally suggested that they pull to a small island lying on their right, and anchor in the heavy foliage overhanging the water.

“If it grows much lighter they’ll be able to see us from the cliffs,” he said, “and for us now situated as we are the most important of all things is to hide.”

It was a tiny island, not more than a quarter of an acre in size, but it was covered with heavy forest, and they found refuge among the long boughs that touched the water, where they rested in silence, while more stars came out, throwing a silver radiance over the lake. The three were silent and Robert watched the western light that lay farthest south. It seemed to be about two miles away, and, as he looked he saw it grow, until he became convinced that it was no longer a light, but a fire.

“What is the meaning of it?” he asked, calling the attention of Willet.

The hunter looked for a while before replying. The fire still grew and soon a light on the eastern shore began to turn into a fire, increasing in the same manner.

“I take it that they intend to illuminate the lake, at least this portion of it,” said Willet. “They’ll have gigantic bonfires casting their light far over the water, and they think that we won’t be able to hide then.”

“Which proves that they are in great force on both shores,” said Tayoga.

“How does it prove it?” asked Robert.

The Onondaga laughed softly.

“O Dagaeoga,” he said, “you speak before you think. You are always thinking before you speak, but perhaps it is not your fault. Manitou gave you a tongue of gold, and it becomes a man to use that which he can use best. It is very simple. To drag up the fallen wood for such big fires takes many men. Nor would all of them be employed for such work. While some of them feed the flames others are seeking us. We can look for their canoes soon.”

“Their plan isn’t a bad one for what they want to do,” said the hunter. “A master mind must be directing them. I am confirmed in my opinion that St. Luc is there.”

“I’ve been sure of it all the time,” said Robert; “it seems that fate intends us to be continually matching our wits against his.”

“It’s a fact, and it’s strange how it’s come about,” said the hunter thoughtfully.

Robert looked at him, hoping he would say more, but he did not continue the subject. Instead he said:

“That they know what they’re doing is shown by the fact that we must move. All the area of the lake about us will be lighted up soon.”

The two bonfires were now lofty, blazing pyramids, and a third farther north began also to send its flames toward the sky.

The surface of the lake glowed with red light which crept steadily toward the little island, in the shadow of which the three scouts lay.

It became apparent that they had no time to waste, if they intended to avoid being trapped.

“Push out,” said Willet, and, with strong sweeps of the paddle, Robert and Tayoga sent the canoe from the shelter of the boughs. But they still kept close to the island and then made for another about a hundred yards south. The glow had not yet come near enough to disclose them, while they were in the open water, but Robert felt intense relief when they drew again into the shelter of trees.

The bonfire on the western shore was the largest, and, despite the distance, he saw passing before the flames tiny black figures which he knew to be warriors or French, if any white men were there. They were still feeding the fire and the pyramid of light rose to an extraordinary height, but Robert knew the peril was elsewhere. It would come on the surface of the lake and he shifted his gaze to the gray waters, searching everywhere for Indian canoes. He believed that they would appear first in the north and he scoured the horizon there from side to side, trying to detect the first black dot when it should show over the lake.

The waters where his eyes searched were wholly in darkness, an unbroken black line of the sky meeting a heaving surface. He looked back and forth over the whole extent, a half dozen times, and found nothing to break the continuity. Hope that the warriors of Tandakora were not coming sprang up in his breast, but he put it down again.

Although imagination was so strong in him he was nevertheless, in moments of peril, a realist. Hard experience had taught him long since that when his life was in danger he must face facts.

“There’s another island about a half mile away,” he said to Willet.

“Don’t you think we’d better make for it now?”

“In a minute or two, lad, if nothing happens,” replied the hunter.

“I’d like to see what’s coming here, if anything at all comes.”

Robert turned his gaze back toward the north, passing his eyes once more to and fro along the line where the dusky sky met the dusky lake, and then he started a little. A dot detached itself from the center of the line, followed quickly by another, another and others. They were points infinitely small, and one at that distance could have told nothing about them from their appearance only, but he knew they were Indian canoes. They could be nothing else. It was certain also that they were seeking the three.

“Do you see them?” asked Robert.

“Yes, and it’s a fleet,” replied Willet. “They are lighting up the lake with their bonfires, and their canoes are coming south to drive us into the open. There’s generalship in this. I think St. Luc is surely in command.”

The hunter expressed frank admiration. Often, in the long duel between them and the redoubtable French leader, he paid tribute to the valor and skill of St. Luc. Like Robert, he never felt any hostility toward him. There was nothing small about Willet, and he had abundant esteem for a gallant foe.

“It’s time now to run for it again,” he said, “and it’s important to keep out of their sight.”

“I think it will be better for us to swim,” said Tayoga, “and let the canoe carry our weapons and ammunition.”

“And for us to hide behind it as we’ve done before. You’re right, lad.

The canoe is low and does not make much of a blur upon the lake, but if we are sitting upright in it we can be much more easily seen. Now, quick’s the word!”

They took off all their outer clothing and moccasins, putting the garments and their weapons into the little craft, and, sinking into the water behind it, pushed out from the overhanging boughs. It was a wise precaution. When they reached the long open stretch of water, Robert felt that the glow from the nearest bonfire was directly upon them, although he knew that his fancy made the light much stronger than it really was.

The canoe still merged with the color of the waves which were now running freely, and, as the three swam with powerful strokes sending it swiftly ahead of them, Robert was hopeful that they would reach the next island, unseen.

The distance seemed to lengthen and grow interminable, and their pace, although rapid, was to Robert like that of a snail. Yet the longest journey must come to an end. The new island rose at last before them, larger than the others but like the rest covered throughout with heavy forest.

They were almost in its shelter, when a faint cry came from the lofty cliff on the west. It was a low, whining sound, very distant, but singularly penetrating, a sinister note with which Robert was familiar, the Indian war whoop. He recognized it, and understood its significance. Warriors had seen the canoe and knew that it marked the flight of the three.