He sent forth twice the harsh cry of a water fowl.  There was no answer, but he did not seem to expect any, standing at attention, every line of his figure expressing supreme confidence.  The others shared his belief.

“I hear them.  They come,” said Tayoga at length.

Presently a slight sound as of long, easy strokes reached them all, and in a few moments a line of dark heads appeared through the mists and vapors.  Then the Mohawks swam to land, carrying their rifles and ammunition, Daganoweda’s too, on their heads, and stood up in a silent and dripping line before their chief.

“It is well,” said Daganoweda, looking them over with an approving eye.  “You are all here, and we fight in the next battle beside our white brothers.”

“A battle that you would be loath to miss and right glad we are to welcome such sturdy help,” said the voice of Willet behind them.  “I’ll tell Captain Colden that you’re here.”

The young captain came at once, and welcomed Daganoweda in proper dignified fashion.  Blankets and food were given to the Mohawks, and they ate and warmed themselves by the fire.  They were not many, but Robert knew they were a great addition.  The fiery spirit of Daganoweda alone was worth twenty men.

“I think that we’d better seek sleep now,” said young Lennox to Grosvenor.  “I admit one is tempted to stay awake that he may see and hear everything, but sooner or later you’ve got to rest.”

They found a good place under one of the sheds, and, wrapped in blankets, soon sank to slumber.  The day after such a momentous night came dark and gloomy, with the rain still dripping.  A north wind had arisen, and high waves chased one another over the lake.  There was still much fog on the land side, and, under its cover, the French and Indians were stalking the camp, firing at every incautious head.

“Most of those bullets are French,” said Tayoga, “because the warriors are not good sharpshooters, and they are aimed well.  I think that Sharp Sword has selected all the best French and Canadian marksmen and has sent them down to the edge of the woods to harass us.  As long as the fog hangs there we may expect their bullets.”

The fire of these hidden sharpshooters soon became terribly harassing.  From points of vantage they sent their bullets even into the very heart of the camp.  Not a head or a shoulder, not an arm could be exposed.  Three men were killed, a dozen more were wounded, and the spirit of the garrison was visibly affected.  At the suggestion of Willet, Colden selected thirty sharpshooters of his own and sent them among the stumps to meet the French and Canadian riflemen.

Robert and Tayoga were in this band, and Willet himself led it.  Daganoweda and three of his warriors who were good shots also went along.  Black Rifle was already outside on one of his usual solitary but fierce man-hunts.  All the men as soon as they left the breastworks lay almost flat on the wet ground, and crept forward with the utmost care.  It was a service of extreme danger, none could be more so, and it was certain that not all of them would come back.