see in the dark like an owl and who had
already proved his great qualities as a scout and ranger, watched at the
river, and Willet with Robert and Tayoga was on the land side. But they
learned there was another chateau landing less than a quarter of a mile
lower down, and Tandakora, coming on the river, might use that, and yet
make his immediate approach by land.

Willet stood by a grape arbor with Robert and the Onondaga, and watched
with eye and ear.

"Tandakora is sure to come," said the hunter. "It's just such a night as
he loves. Little would he care whether he found English or French in the
house; if not the English whom he expects, then the French, and dead men
have nothing to say, nor dead women either. It may be, Tayoga, that you
will have your chance to-night to settle your score with him."

"I do not think so, Great Bear," replied the Onondaga. "The night is so
dark that I cannot see Tododaho on his star, but no whisper from him
reaches me. I think that when the time comes for the Ojibway and me to
see which shall continue to live, Tododaho or the spirits in the air
will give warning."

Robert shivered a little. Tayoga's tone was cool and matter of fact, but
his comrades knew that he was in deadly earnest. At the appointed time
he and Tandakora would fight their quarrel out, fight it to the death.
In the last analysis Tayoga was an Indian, strong in Indian customs and
beliefs.

"Tandakora will come about an hour before midnight," said the Onondaga,
"because it will be very dark then and there will yet be plenty of time
for his work. He will expect to find everybody asleep, save perhaps an
English sentinel whom he can easily tomahawk in the darkness. He does
not know that the old Seigneur lies dying, and that they watch by his
bed."

"In that case," said the hunter with his absolute belief in all that
Tayoga said, "we can settle ourselves for quite a wait."

They relapsed into silence and Robert began to look at the light that
shone from the bedroom of M. de Chatillard, the only light in the house
now visible. He was an old, old man between ninety and a hundred, and
Willett was right in saying that he might well pass on before the fate
of Quebec was decided. Robert was sure that it was going to fall, and M.
de Chatillard at the end of a long, long life would be spared a great
blow. But what a life! What events had been crowded into his three
generations of living! He could remember Le Grand Monarque,