They made an early start at dawn of a bright hot day, crossed the
ford, and resumed their long march through the forest which under the
light wind now rustled continually with the increasing dryness.

But the company was joyous. The wounded were put upon the pack horses,
and the others, young, strong and refreshed by abundant rest, went
forward with springing steps. Robert and Tayoga walked with the three
Philadelphians. Colden already knew the quality of the Onondaga, and
respected and admired him, and Wilton and Carson, surprised at first
at his excellent English education, soon saw that he was no ordinary
youth. The five, each a type of his own, were fast friends before the
day's march was over. Wilton, the Quaker, was the greatest talker of
them all, which he declared was due to suppression in childhood.

"It's something like the battle fever which will come out along about
the fourth or fifth generation," he said. "I suppose there's a certain
amount of talk that every man must do in his lifetime, and, having
been kept in a state of silence by my parents all through my youth,
I'm now letting myself loose in the woods."

"Don't apologize, Will," said Colden. "Your chatter is harmless, and
it lightens the spirits of us all."

"The talker has his uses," said Tayoga gravely. "My friend Lennox,
known to the Hodenosaunee as Dagaeoga, is golden-mouthed. The gift of
great speech descends upon him when time and place are fitting."

"And so you're an orator, are you?" said Carson, looking at Robert.