Teganouan, who had been lying on the sand, heard a rustle far off in the forest and raised his head. He heard it again, and rose, standing motionless; then he took his musket and came toward the fire. The Captain lay at full length, his chin on his hands. He was awake, for his eyes were open, but he did not look up. The Indian hesitated, and stood a few yards away looking at the silent figure, as if uncertain whether to speak. Finally he stepped back and disappeared among the willows. Half an hour went by. Father Claude came up the beach, walking slowly. "It is growing late, M'sieu, for travellers." Menard glanced up, but did not reply. The priest was looking about the camp. "Where is Teganouan, M'sieu? Did you give him permission to go away?" "No; he is here,--he was here." Menard rose. "You are right, he has gone. Has he taken his musket?" "I think so. I do not see it." "He left it leaning against the log. No; it is not there. Wait,--do you hear?" They stood listening; and both caught the faint sound of a body moving between the bushes that grew on the higher ground, close to the line of willows. Menard took up his musket and held it ready, for they had not left the country of the Iroquois. "Here he comes," whispered Father Claude. "Yes, it is Teganouan." The Indian was running toward them. He dropped his musket, and began rapidly to throw great handfuls of sand upon the fire. The two white men sprang to aid him, without asking an explanation. In a moment the beach was lighted only by the moon. Then Menard said:-- "What is it, Teganouan?" "Teganouan heard a step in the forest. He went nearer, and there were more. They are on the war-path, for they come cautiously and slowly." "Father, will you keep by the maid? We must not disturb her now. You had better heap up the sand about the canoe so that no stray ball can reach her." The priest hurried down the beach, and Menard and the Indian slipped into the willows, Menard toward the east, Teganouan toward the west, where they could watch the forest and the beach on all sides. The sound of an approaching party was now more distinct. There would be a long silence, then the crackle of a twig or the rustle of dead leaves; and Menard knew that the sound was made by moccasined feet. He was surprised that the invaders took so little caution; either they were confident of finding the camp asleep, or they were in such force as to have no fear. While he lay behind a scrub willow conjecturing, Father Claude came creeping up behind him. "I will watch with you, M'sieu. It will make our line longer." "Is she safe?" "Yes. I have heaped the sand high around the canoe, even on the side toward the water." "Good. You had better move off a little nearer the lake, and keep a sharp eye out. It may be that they are coming by water as well, though I doubt it. The lake is very light. I will take the centre. You have no musket?" "No; but my eyes are good."