"Thank you, Tayoga, but I've banished the wish. I know I can't do anything without a weapon, but I can give you moral help. They're bound to try something sometime or other, because when the day comes other people may arrive—we're not so far from Albany—and they're guilty, we're not. We don't mind being seen."
"It is so, Dagaeoga. You talk almost like a man. At times you reason well. Finding that we are as patient as they are they will make a movement in an hour or two, though I think we are not likely to see it."
"An hour or two? Then I think I'd better make myself comfortable again."
He settled his body against the brown turf which was soft and soothing, and, in spite of himself, the wish for sleep returned. It was so quiet that one was really invited to go away to slumberland, and then he had eaten much at the big supper. After a long time, he was sinking into a doze when he was dragged back abruptly from it by a report almost at his ear that sounded like the roar of a cannon. He sat up convulsively, and saw Tayoga holding in his hand a smoking pistol.
"Did you hit anything?" he asked.
"I saw a stir in the bushes over there," replied the Onondaga, "and fired into them. I do not think my bullet found its target, but we will wait. I have ammunition in my pocket, and meanwhile I will reload."
He put in the powder and ball, still keeping an eye on the bushes. He waited a full half hour and then he handed the pistol to Robert.
"Watch, and use it if need be," he said, "while I swim over and get the boat."
"Get the boat! What are you talking about, Tayoga? Has the moon struck you with a madness?"
"Not at all, Dagaeoga. The slaver and the spy are gone, leaving behind them the boat which they could not take with them, and we might as well have it."