He kept to his hands and knees, and made no sound as he advanced, but at intervals he dropped his ear to the ground, and heard the faint rustling that was drawing nearer. He decided that it was a single warrior who by some chance had struck their trail in the dusk, and who, with minute pains and with slowness but certainty, was following it.
His course took him about thirty yards among the bushes and then through high grass growing luxuriantly in the open. In the grass his eye also helped him, because at a point straight ahead the tall stems were moving slightly in a direction opposed to the wind. He took the knife in his teeth and went on, sure that bold means would be best.
The stalking warrior who in his turn was stalked did not hear him until he was near, and then, startled, he sprang to his feet, knife in hand. Tayoga snatched his own from his teeth and stood erect facing him. The warrior, a Huron, was the heavier though not the taller of the two, and recognizing an enemy, a hated Iroquois, he stared fiercely into the eyes that were so close to his. Then he struck, but, agile as a panther, Tayoga leaped aside, and the next instant his own blade went home. The Huron sank down without a sound, and the Onondaga stood over him, the spirit of his ancestors swelling in fierce triumph.
But the feeling soon died in the heart of Tayoga. His second nature, which was that of his white training and association, prevailed. He was sorry that he had been compelled to take life, and, dragging the heavy body much farther away, he hid it in the bushes. Then, making a circle through the forest to assure himself that no other enemies were near, he went swiftly back to the thicket and lay down again between his blankets. He had a curious feeling that he did not want Robert to know what had happened.
Tayoga remained awake the remainder of the night, and, although he did not stir again from the thicket, he kept a vigilant watch. He would hear any sound within a hundred yards and he would know what it was, but there was none save the rustlings of the little animals, and dawn came, peaceful and clear. Robert moved, threw off the buffalo robe and stood up among the bushes.
"A big sleep and a fine sleep, Tayoga," he said.
"It was a good time for Dagaeoga to sleep," said the Onondaga.
"I was warm, and your Tododaho watched over me."
"Aye, Dagaeoga, Tododaho was watching well last night."
"And you slept well, too, Tayoga?"