of the fires, bare save for a breech cloth and moccasins, his body
painted in the most hideous designs, of which war paint was possible,
his brow lowering.

"Tandakora is not happy," said Tayoga.

"No," said Robert. "He is thinking of the battle at Lake George that
he did not win, and of all the scalps he did not take. He is thinking
of his lost warriors, and the rout of his people and the French."

"Even so, Dagaeoga. Now Tandakora and De Courcelles talk with the spy,
Garay. They want his news. They rejoice when he tells them Waraiyageh
and his soldiers still make no preparations to advance after their
victory by the lake. The long delay, the postponement of a big
campaign until next spring will give the French and Indians time to
breathe anew and renew their strength. Tandakora and De Courcelles
consider themselves fortunate, and they are pleased with the spy,
Garay. But look, Dagaeoga! Behold who comes now!"

Robert's heart began to throb as the handsomest and most gallant
figure of them all walked into the red glow of the firelight, a tall
man, young, lithe, athletic, fair of hair and countenance, his manner
at once graceful and proud, a man to whom the others turned with
deference, and perhaps in the case of De Courcelles and Jumonville
with a little fear. He wore a white uniform with gold facings, and
a small gold hilted sword swung upon his thigh. Even in the forest,
dress impresses, and Robert was quite sure that St. Luc was in his
finest attire, not from vanity, but because he wished to create an
effect. It would be like him, when his fortunes were lowest, to assume
his highest manner before both friend and foe.

"You'd think from his looks that he had nothing but a string of
victories and never knew defeat," whispered Willet. "Anyway, his is
the finest spirit in all that crowd, and he's the greatest leader
and soldier, too. Notice how they give way to him, and how they stop
asking questions of Garay, leaving it to him. And now Garay himself
bows low before him, while De Courcelles, Jumonville and Tandakora
stand aside. I wish we could hear what they say; then we might learn
something worth all our risk in coming here."

But their voices did not reach so great a distance, though the three,
eager to use eye even if ear was of no use, still lay in the bushes
and watched the flow of life in the great camp. Many of the French and
Indians who had been asleep awoke, sat up and began to cook breakfast
for them