He had struck suddenly with lightning swiftness and with terrible effect.

Not only this blow, but its guarantee of others to come, filled Robert's heart with fear for the future.
The sun sank upon a rejoicing army.

The Indians were still yelling and dancing, and, though they were no longer allowed to sink their tomahawks in the heads of their defenseless foes, they made imaginary strokes with them, and shouted ferociously as they leaped and capered.
Robert was on the strand near the shore of the lake, and wearied by his long day of watching that which he wished least in the world to see, he sat down on a sand heap, and put his head in his hands.

Peculiarly sensitive to atmosphere and surroundings, he was, for the moment, almost without hope.
But he knew, even when he was in despair, that his courage would come back.
It was one of the qualities of a temperament such as his that while he might be in the depths at one hour he would be on the heights at the next.
Several of the Indians, apparently those who had got at the liquor, were careering up and down the sands, showing every sign of the blood madness that often comes in the moment of triumph upon savage minds.

Robert raised his face from his hands and looked to see if Tandakora was among them, but he caught no glimpse of the gigantic Ojibway.