"All day, I fear," replied Tayoga.
"That's bad. If any of our friends should be on the shore we won't be able to see 'em."
"But we have to make the best of it, Dagaeoga. We may be able to hear them."
The fog was the greatest they had ever seen on Andiatarocte, seeming to ooze up from the depths of the waters, and to spread over everything. The keenest eyes, like those of Robert and Tayoga, could penetrate it only a few yards, and it hung in heavy, wet folds over their faces. It was difficult even to tell direction and they paddled very slowly in a direction that they surmised led to the south. After a while they stopped again that Tayoga might establish a new listening post upon the water, though nothing alarming yet came to those marvelous ears of his. But it was evident that he expected peril, and Robert also anticipated it.
"A force as large as St. Luc's is sure to have brought canoes overland," said young Lennox, "and in a fog like this he'll have them launched on the lake."
"It is so," said Tayoga, using his favorite expression, "and I think they will come soon."
They moved on once more a few hundred yards, and then, when the Onondaga listened a long time, he announced that the hostile canoes were on the lake, cruising about in the fog.
"I hear one to the right of us, another to the left, and several directly ahead," he said. "Sharp Sword brought plenty of canoes with him and he is using them. I think they have formed a line across the lake, surmising that we would send a message to the south. Sharp Sword is a great leader, and he forgets nothing."
"They can't draw a line that we won't pass."
Now they began to use their paddles very slowly and gently, the canoe barely creeping along, and Tayoga listening with all his powers. But the Onondaga was aware that his were not the only keen ears on the lake, and that, gentle as was the movement of the paddies that he and Robert held, it might be heard.