The party had apparently travelled from night into day; for, as soon as the morning dawned, the head man of the file stopped, and, without changing his position, and thus avoiding the necessity of making fresh prints in the snow, conversed over his shoulder with those behind him. Their conversation was brief, and might be translated into modern English thus:
"Shall we halt here, or go on farther? The day's eyes are open in the east."
"Stay here till noon," said an elder man behind him. "The Oneidas always go to their lodge in the middle of the day. They are children. They require sleep when the sun is high."
Another voice repeated the same advice; and, springing one by one from the trail into the thicket, they gathered together under a wide-spreading hemlock, where the ground was free from snow, and seated themselves in a circle beneath the branches. There they passed their time nearly in silence. Some food was produced, and also some rum--the fatal gift of the English; but very few words were uttered, and the only sentences worth recording were--
"Art thou quite sure of the spot, brother?"
"Certain," answered the one who had been leading; "the intelligence was brought by an Albany runner, a man of a true tongue."
From time to time, each of the different members of the group looked up towards the sky; and at length one of them rose, saying,--
"It is noon; let us onward. We can go forward for an hour, and then shall be near enough to reach the place, and return while the shadows are on the earth."
"We were told to spread out and enter by several trails," said the elder man of the party.
"It is not needful now," observed the one who seemed the leader; "when it can all be done between sun and sun."