But Wolfe had fallen. Struck by three bullets, the last time in the breast, he staggered and sat down. Men rushed to his aid, but he lived just long enough to know that he had won the victory. Before the firing died away, he was dead. Montcalm, still on horseback, was shot through the body, but he was taken into the city, where he died the night of the next day. Senezergues, his second in command, was also mortally wounded, and Monckton, who was second to Wolfe, fell badly wounded too. But Robert did not yet know any of these facts. He was conscious only of victory. He heard the triumphant cheers of Wolfe's army and he saw that the French had stopped, then that they were breaking. He felt again that powerful thrill, but now it was the thrill of victory. "We win! We win!" he cried. "Aye, so we do," said Willet, "but here are the Canadians and Indians trying to wipe out us rangers." The fire in front of them from the knolls and bushes redoubled, but the rangers, adept at such combats, pressed forward, pouring in their bullets. The Canadians and Indians gave ground and the rangers, circling about, attacked them on the flank. Tayoga suddenly uttered a fierce shout and, dropping his rifle, leaped into the open. "Now, O Tandakora!" he cried. "The time has come and thou hast given me the chance!" The gigantic figure of Tandakora emerged from the smoke, and the two, tomahawk in hand, faced each other. "It is you, Tayoga, of the clan of the Bear, of the nation Onondaga, of the league of the Hodenosaunee," said the chief. "So you have come at last that I may spit upon your dead body. I have long sought this moment." "Not longer than I, Ojibway savage!" replied Tayoga. "Now you shall know what it is to strike an Onondaga in the mouth, when he is bound and helpless." The huge warrior threw back his head and laughed. "Look your last at the skies, Onondaga," he said, "because you will soon pass into silence and darkness. It is not for a great chief to be slain by a mere boy." Tayoga said no more, but gazed steadily into the eyes of the Ojibway. Then the two circled slowly, each intently watching every movement of the other. The great body of Tandakora was poised like that of a panther, the huge muscles rippling under his bronze skin. But the slender figure of Tayoga was instinct also with strength, and with an incomparable grace and lightness. He seemed to move without effort, like a beam of light. Tandakora crouched as he moved slowly toward the right. Then his arm suddenly shot back and he hurled his tomahawk with incredible force. The Onondaga threw his head to one side and the glittering blade, flying on, clove a ranger to the chin. Then Tayoga threw his own weapon, but Tandakora, with a quick shift evading it, drew his knife and, rushing in, cried: "Now I have you, dog of an Onondaga!"