Robert shivered a little. Tayoga's tone was cool and matter of fact, but his comrades knew that he was in deadly earnest. At the appointed time he and Tandakora would fight their quarrel out, fight it to the death. In the last analysis Tayoga was an Indian, strong in Indian customs and beliefs. "Tandakora will come about an hour before midnight," said the Onondaga, "because it will be very dark then and there will yet be plenty of time for his work. He will expect to find everybody asleep, save perhaps an English sentinel whom he can easily tomahawk in the darkness. He does not know that the old Seigneur lies dying, and that they watch by his bed." "In that case," said the hunter with his absolute belief in all that Tayoga said, "we can settle ourselves for quite a wait." They relapsed into silence and Robert began to look at the light that shone from the bedroom of M. de Chatillard, the only light in the house now visible. He was an old, old man between ninety and a hundred, and Willett was right in saying that he might well pass on before the fate of Quebec was decided. Robert was sure that it was going to fall, and M. de Chatillard at the end of a long, long life would be spared a great blow. But what a life! What events had been crowded into his three generations of living! He could remember Le Grand Monarque, The Sun King and the buildings of Versailles. He was approaching middle age when Blenheim was fought. He could remember mighty battles, great changes, and the opening of new worlds, and like Virgil's hero, he had been a great part of them. That was a life to live, and, if Quebec were going to fall, it was well that M. de Chatillard with his more than ninety years should cease to live, before the sun of France set in North America. Yes, Willet was right. A long time passed and Tayoga, lying down with his ear to the earth, was listening. It was so dark now that hearing, not sight, must tell when Tandakora came. "I go into the forest," whispered the Onondaga, "but I return soon." "Don't take any needless risks," said Willet. Tayoga slipped into the dusk, fading from sight like a wraith, but in five minutes he came back. "Tandakora is at hand," he whispered. "He lies with his warriors in the belt of pine woods. They are watching the light in the Seigneur's window, but presently they will steal upon the house." "And find us on watch," said Willet, an exultant tone appearing in his voice. "To the landing, Robert, and tell Zeb they're here on our side." The lank lad returned with Robert, though he left part of his men at that point to guard against surprise, and the bulk of the force, under Willet, crowded behind the grape arbor awaiting the onslaught of Tandakora who, they knew, would come in caution and silence.