Then all the red glow disappeared, like a great light going out suddenly, and the western forest as well as the eastern, lay in a gray gloom.
It always seemed to Robert that the last going of the sunset that day was like a signal, because, when the night swept down, black and complete everywhere, there was a burst of heavy firing from the south and a long exultant yell.

No bullet sped through the thickets, where the defenders lay, and Willet cried: "Tayoga! Tayoga and help! Ah, here they come! The Mohawks!" Tayoga, panting from exertion, sprang into the bushes among them, and he was followed by a tall figure in war paint, lofty plumes waving from his war bonnet.

Behind him came many warriors, and others were already on the flanks, spreading out like a fan, filing rapidly and shouting the war whoop.

Robert recognized at once the great figure that stood before them.

It was Daganoweda, the young Mohawk chief of his earlier acquaintance, whom he had met both on the war path and at the great council of the fifty sachems in the vale of Onondaga.