Suddenly a sharp, short, piercing scream, broken short, fell upon their ears, as though a mortal wound had been given and received.
"Ah, Wabeno! That is the end of Wabeno!" exclaimed one of the men.
It was indeed Wabeno who uttered that scream, and it was both his war-cry and his death-cry, for at that instant he had met in single combat the Iroquois chief, and the tomahawk of the greatest warrior within a hundred leagues of the lakes, had sunk into his brain and stretched him lifeless.
"Now the Algonquins will scatter like the leaves of the forest, and we must fight it out alone, lads. Oh! that the dawn would come!" exclaimed the major, casting a brief look towards the east.
Even as he spoke the first flush of the sunrise was lighting up the edge of the forest and the river, but the dawn only revealed to them the utter hopelessness of their position. The enemy were in great numbers, and had almost completely surrounded them, for though the river was at their rear it was being eagerly watched from the opposite bank.
Still, for some reason, the enemy did not attempt to rush the camp as yet.
"I wonder why they're hanging back, Jamie," said his comrade, who lay behind the same log with his rifle at the "ready."
"Perhaps they've had enough scalps already, and are thinking of going back to their wigwams."
"Ah," replied one of the voyageurs, who was a regular frontiersman, "that might be true of any other tribe but the Iroquois; they'll not be satisfied until their girdles are full of reeking scalps. We must teach them a lesson they'll not forget. Here goes," and raising his rifle as he spoke he fired quickly at a dark figure that was approaching the camp, leaping quickly from tree to tree.
A yell of pain escaped the Indian as he rolled over in an agony, and paid with his life for his temerity. A wild cry of vengeance came from the dark aisles of the forest, and a dozen Iroquois leapt forward to snatch away the dead body, lest it should fall into the hands of the palefaces.