The canoes were drawn to the bank at the portage, and as they stepped ashore, the dark, shadowy forms of several painted warriors emerged from the cover of the trees. They were the Iroquois scouts, who were keenly watching for the approach of the enemy. Then a powerful and haughty chief confronted them. It was the White Eagle himself, but the stern stoicism of his countenance relaxed for a moment as he greeted his two paleface friends.
"The paleface hunter is welcome to the camp of the Iroquois. Many moons have passed since White Eagle and his friend hunted the red deer, and struck the trail of the moose together," said the chief.
"The home of the Grey Badger is in the wigwams of the Iroquois, and when he has struck his Canada enemies, he will return to his seat at the council fire of the White Eagle," replied the hunter.
"Ugh! It is well! I feared that the Canada snakes had charmed away my friend, but then I remembered that the Grey Badger is too great a warrior to permit his scalp to hang upon the poles of their lodges."
"It was a mighty close shave this time, chief. I didn't expect to see my red friends again."
"Bah! The river is now netted for the Canada salmon. My braves will take 'plenty' scalp before another sunset. Come! My warriors will watch."
A couple of Indians took up the canoe and carried it to the other end of the portage, while several others eliminated from the soft bank the marks made by the bow of the boat and the prints of the moccasins. This precaution was adopted to prevent an alarm being given to the Algonquins, who were shortly expected. Then the party retired within the precincts of the forest, there to await the coming of the dawn.
Dawn came at last--towards the sun-rising a faint yellow streak lit up the horizon. Next, a saffron tint flushed the sky, and then the stars faded and disappeared, as the gates of the morning were unbarred, and a hundred streamers of flashing, roseate hues flooded the blue vault of heaven. Myriads of songsters awoke the stillness of the forest, for the day had come, and the dark curtain of night rolled westward.
Another two hours passed, and then the hawk-eyed vigilance of the watchers was rewarded by a first glimpse of the enemy. The dull, constant roar of the cataract in their ears prevented their hearing the sound of the approaching paddles, or the crunching of their birch-bark canoes upon the beach, but long ere this, the Iroquois scouts had reported the enemy in sight, and every one was ready for the approaching fight.
The portage was a short one, and the chief had spread his warriors over the whole length in order to prevent the escape of any of the Algonquins. A few scouts headed the party, then came the Indians carrying the five canoes, and after them, the two prisoners, their arms bound with thongs, walking between a couple of braves with tomahawks in their hands.