He said no more, but fixed his eyes on the forest below. It swept away in billows of green that rolled in gigantic combers across ridge and hillock and tossed plumes of spray aloft whenever a breeze rustled the tree-tops. There was an effect of continuity, of boundless size such as the ocean gives. From my lofty perch I could survey the four quarters of the horizon, and in every direction the forest stretched to the sky-line. The Great Trail of the Iroquois was hidden from sight. The one gap in the vista of emerald and jade was the narrow slash of the clearing we had recently crossed.
I saw that Ta-wan-ne-ars had concentrated his attention upon this spot, where the exit of the trail was indicated by a ragged fringe of undergrowth. We looked for so long, without anything happening, that my eyeballs ached. But at last there was a movement like the miniature upheaval which is caused by an ant in breaking ground. Boughs quivered, and a figure appeared in the open. 'Twas Corlaer. He glanced around him and strode on. In a moment he had passed the clearing and disappeared in the forest.
Ta-wan-ne-ars hitched forward and peered through the loop-hole with tense muscles. And again there was a wait which seemed endless. My eyelids blinked from the strain of watching.
The desolation and loneliness of the wilderness were so complete that it seemed inconceivable another human being could be within view. And whilst this thought occupied my mind a dark figure crawled on hands and knees from the mouth of the trail.
The newcomer feared a trap. His ear sought the ground. His eye studied the sky above him. He looked in every direction. But his instincts were baffled. He stole forward across the clearing with musket poised. At that distance all we could see of his costume was the clump of feathers that bristled from his scalp-lock.
He followed Peter into the trail on our side of the clearing, and there was a second and briefer pause. Then as silently as ghosts a string of figures flitted into the clearing. There were six of them, each with musket in the hollow of his arm, each with bristling feather headdress. They walked one behind the other, with a peculiar effect, even at that distance, of stealth and watchfulness.
Ta-wan-ne-ars emitted a guttural grunt, quite unlike his usual rather musical utterances.
"Cahnuagas!" he exclaimed, and spat.
"What?" I answered.
"Down!" he rasped. "Down! The time is scant!"