"He has you, Lennox," laughed Wilton, "but you needn't say more. I know that Tayoga is right, and I'm waiting to hear you talk in a crisis."
Robert blushed once more, but was silent. He knew that if he protested again the young Philadelphians would chaff him without mercy, and he knew at heart also that Tayoga's statement about him was true. He remembered with pride his defeat of St. Luc in the great test of words in the vale of Onondaga. But Wilton's mind quickly turned to another subject. He seemed to exemplify the truth of his own declaration that all the impulses bottled up in four or five generations of Quaker ancestors were at last bursting out in him. He talked more than all the others combined, and he rejoiced in the freedom of the wilderness.
"I'm a spirit released," he said. "That's why I chatter so."
"Perhaps it's just as well, Will, that while you have the chance you should chatter to your heart's content, because at any time an Indian arrow may cut short your chance for chattering," said Carson.
"I can't believe it, Hugh," said Wilton, "because if Providence was willing to preserve us, when we camped squarely among the Indians, put out no guards, and fairly asked them to come and shoot at us, then it was for a purpose and we'll be preserved through greater and continuous dangers."
"There may be something in it, Will. I notice that those who deserve it least are often the chosen favorites of fortune."
"Which seems to be a hit at your superior officer, but I'll pass it over, Hugh, as you're always right at heart though often wrong in the head."
Although the young officers talked much and with apparent lightness, the troop marched with vigilance now. Willet and Tayoga, and Colden, who had profited by bitter experience, saw to it. The hunter and the Onondaga, often assisted by Robert, scouted on the flanks, and three or four soldiers, who developed rapid skill in the woods, were soon able to help. But Tayoga and Willet were the main reliance, and they found no further trace of Indians. Nevertheless the guard was never relaxed for an instant.
Robert found the march not only pleasant but exhilarating. It appealed to his imaginative and sensitive mind, which magnified everything, and made the tints more vivid and brilliant. To him the forests were larger and grander than they were to the others, and the rivers were wider and deeper. The hours were more intense, he lived every second of them, and the future had a scope and brilliancy that few others would foresee. In company with youths of his own age coming from the largest city of the British colonies, the one that had the richest social traditions, his whole nature expanded, and he cast away much of his reserve. Around the campfires in the evening he became one of the most industrious talkers, and now and then he was carried away so much by his own impulse that all the rest would cease and listen to the mellow, golden voice merely for the pleasure of hearing. Then Tayoga and Willet would look at each other and smile, knowing that Dagaeoga, though all unconsciously, held the center of the stage, and the others were more than willing for him to hold it.
The friendships of the young ripen fast, and under such circumstances they ripen faster than ever. Robert soon felt that he had known the three young Philadelphians for years, and a warm friendship, destined to last all their lives, in which Tayoga was included, was soon formed. Robert saw that his new comrades, although they did not know much of the forest, were intelligent, staunch and brave, and they saw in him all that Tayoga and Willet saw, which was a great deal.