Several of the warriors were slain, and others were wounded, but Robert had no means of telling the exact number of their casualties, as it was an almost invisible combat, which Willet and Tayoga, as the leaders, used all their skill to prolong to the utmost with the smallest loss possible.

What they wanted was time, time for the fugitive train, now far away among the hills.
So deftly did they manage the defense of the creek that the entire afternoon passed and Tandakora and De Courcelles were still held in front of it, not daring to make a rush, and Willet, Robert and Tayoga glowed with the triumph they were achieving at a cost relatively so small.

Night arrived, fortunately for them thick and black, and Willet gathered up his little force.

They would have taken away with them the body of the slain man, but that was impossible, and, covering it up with brush and stones, they left it.

Then still uplifted and exulting, they slipped away on the trail of the wagons, knowing that the Indian horde might watch for hours at the creek before they discovered the departure of the defenders.
"You see, Dagaeoga," said Tayoga to Robert, "that there is more in war than fighting.