As the gestures of the Onondago were quite as significant as his language, we had no difficulty in understanding him. Guert continued his questions, however, while dressing, and we all soon became convinced, by the words of the Indian, broken and abrupt as they were, that Abercrombie was on the point of embarking with his army on Lake George, and that we must needs be active, if we intended to be present at the contemplated operations in front of Ticonderoga. Our decision was soon reached, and our preparations made. By packing and shouldering his knapsack, and arming himself, each man would be ready; though a short delay grew out of the absence of Traverse and his chain-bearers. We wrote a letter, however, explaining the reason of our intended absence, promising to return as soon as the operations in front of Ty should be terminated. This letter we left with Pete, who was to remain as cook, though Jaap bestirred himself, loaded his broad shoulders with certain indispensables for our march, took his rifle, pack and horn and was ready to move as soon as any of us. All this the fellow did, moreover, without orders; deeming it a part of his duty to follow his young master, even if he followed him to evil. No dog, indeed, could be truer, in this particular, than Jaap or Jacob Satanstoe, for he had adopted the name of the Neck as his patronymic; much as the nobles of other regions style themselves after _their_ lands. When all was ready, and we were on the point of quitting the hut, the question arose seriously, whether we were to go by Ravensnest, or by the new route that the Onondago had mentioned. Path there was not, in either direction; but, we had land-marks, springs, and other known signs, on the former; while of the latter we literally knew nothing. Then Anneke and Mary Wallace, with their bright, blooming, sunny faces--bright and happy whenever we appeared, most certainly, of late--were in the former direction, and even Dirck cried out 'for Ravensnest.' But, on that route the Onondago refused to stir one foot. He stood, resembling a finger-post, pointing north-westerly with an immovable obstinacy, that threatened to bring the order of our march into some confusion. “We know nothing of that route, Trackless,” Guert observed, or rather replied, for the Indian's manner was so expressive as to amount to a remark, “and we would rather travel a road with which we are a little acquainted. Besides, we wish to pay our parting compliments to the ladies.” “Squaw no good, now--war-path no go to squaw. Huron--French warrior, here.” “Ay, and they are there, too. We shall be on their heels soon enough, by going to Ravensnest.” “No soon 'nough--can't do him. Path long, time short. Pale-face warrior in great hurry.”