The warriors, knowing what was to be done, were doing it already, having
piled many pieces of dead wood around the trunk of the lone tree in the
center of the opening. Two had cut shavings with their hunting knives,
and one stood ready with flint and steel.

"Do you not tremble, Tayoga?" asked the Ojibway. "Many an old and
seasoned warrior has not been able to endure the fire without a groan."

"You shall not hear any groan from me," replied Tayoga, "because I shall
not stand among the flames."

"There is no way to escape them. Even now the pile is built, and the
warrior is ready with flint and steel to make the sparks."

High, thrillingly sweet, came the voice of the bird in the bushes, and
Tayoga suddenly leaped with all his might against the great chest of
Tandakora. Vast as was the strength of the Ojibway he was thrown from
his feet by the violent and unexpected impact, and as he fell Tayoga,
leaping lightly away, ran like a deer through the bushes.

The warriors in the valley uttered a shout, but the reply was a
shattering volley, before which half of them fell. Tandakora understood
at once. If he had the mind and heart of a savage he had also all the
craft and cunning of one whose life was incessantly in danger. Instead
of springing up, he rolled from the crest of the hill, then, rising to a
stooping position, darted away at incredible speed through the forest.

Rangers and Mohawks, Robert, Daganoweda, Willet, Black Rifle and Rogers
at their head, burst into the glen and the Mohawks began the pursuit of
Tandakora's surviving warriors, who had followed their leader in his
flight. But Robert turned back to meet Tayoga and cut the thongs from
his wrists.

"I thank you, Dagaeoga," said the Onondaga. "You came in time."

"Yes, they were making ready. A half hour more and we should have been
too late. But you knew that we were coming, Tayoga?"

"Yes. I heard the bird sing thrice, but I knew the bird was in the
throat of the Great Bear. I will say this, though, to you, Dagaeoga,
that I have heard many birds sing and sing sweetly, but never any so
sweetly as the one that sang thrice in the throat of the Great Bear."

"It is not hard for me to believe you," said Robert, smiling, "and I can
tell you in turn, Tayoga, that your patron saint, Tododaho, must in very
truth have watched over you, because when I heard your warning cry and
took to flight, hoping for a chance later on to rescue you, I ran
within two hou