His face contracted into a wry smile, and Robert understood his feeling of derision for the militia.
"As I told you, they're in camp," continued Black Rifle. "They built a fire there to cook their supper, and to show the French and Indians where they are, lest they miss 'em in the darkness. They don't know what part of the country they're in, but they're sure it's a long distance west of Philadelphia, and if the Indians will only tell 'em when they're coming they'll be ready for 'em. Oh, they're brave enough! They'll probably all die with their faces to the enemy."
He spoke with grim irony and Robert shuddered. He knew how helpless men from the older parts of the country were in the depths of the wilderness, and he was sure that the net was already being drawn about the Pennsylvanians.
"Are the French here too, Black Rifle?" asked Willet.
The strange man pointed toward the north.
"A band led by a Frenchman is there," he replied. "He is the most skillful of all their men in the forest, the one whom they call St. Luc."
"I thought so!" exclaimed Robert. "I believed all the while he would be here. I've no doubt he will direct the ambush."
"We must warn this troop," said Willet, "and save 'em if they will let us. You agree with me, don't you, Tayoga?"
"The Great Bear is right."
"And you'll back me up, of course, Robert. Will you help us too, Black
Rifle?"