They tied their canoe to one of the long boats, and, going on board the latter, slept a little. But slumber could not claim Robert long. All about, it was a battle-ground to him, whether land or water. Armies had been passing and repassing, and fighting here from the beginning. It was the center of the world to him, and in the morning they would be in battle again. If St. Luc held the shore they would not land unscorched. He tried to see signals on the mountain, but the French did not have to talk to one another. They and their red allies lay silent and unseen in the dark woods and waited. Dawn came, and the three were back in their canoe. The wind had died, and the fleet, bearing the army, moved forward to the landing. Officers searched the woods with their strongest glasses, while the scouts in their canoes, daring every peril, shot forward and leaped upon the shore. Then a sheet of musketry and rifle fire burst from the woods. Men fell from the boats into the water, but others held on to the land that they had gained. Robert, Tayoga and Willet among the first fired at dusky figures in the woods, and once or twice they caught the gleam of French uniforms. "It is surely St. Luc," said Robert, when he heard the notes of a silver whistle, "but he can't keep us from landing." "Aye, it's he," said Willet, "and he's making a game fight of it against overwhelming forces." Cannon from the boats also swept the forest with grape and round shot, and the troops began to debark. It was evident that the French and Indians were not in sufficient numbers to hold them back. Not all the skill of St. Luc could avail. The three soon had evidence that the formidable Ojibway chief was there also. Tayoga saw a huge trace in the earth, and called the attention of Willet and Robert to it. "Tandakora is in the bush," he said. "Sharp Sword does not like him, but Manitou has willed that they must often be allies. Now the battle thickens, but the end is sure." The shores of Lake George, so often the scene of fierce strife, blazed with the fury of the combat. The mountains gave back the thunder of guns on the big boats, and muskets and rifles crackled in the forest. Now and then the shouts of the French and the Indian yell rose, but the triumphant American cheer always replied. The troops poured ashore and the odds against St. Luc rose steadily. "The Chevalier can't hold us back many minutes longer," said Willet. "If he doesn't give ground, he'll be destroyed." A few minutes more of resolute fighting and they heard the long, clear call of the silver whistle. Then the forces in front of them vanished suddenly, and not a rifle replied to their fire. French, Canadians and Indians were gone, as completely as if they had never been, but, when the Americans advanced a little farther, they saw the dead, whom St. Luc had not found time to take away. Although the combat had been short, it had been resolute and fierce, and it left its proofs behind.