Around him gathered spirits dauntless and kindred, and here already was the nucleus of the larger force that he was destined to lead in so many a daring deed.

Now his fierce face showed pleasure, as he shook the hunter's powerful hand with his own hand almost as powerful.
"It's a joy to meet you in these woods, Dave," he said.

"But who are the two likely lads with you?
Lads, I call 'em because their faces are those of lads, though their figures have the stature and size of men." "Rogers, this is Tayoga, of the clan of the Bear, of the nation Onondaga, of the great League of the Hodenosaunee, a friend of ours, and no braver or more valiant youth ever trod moccasin.

Tayoga, this is Robert Rogers of the New Hampshire grants." The sunburnt face of Rogers shone with pleasure.
"I've heard of the lad," he said, "and I know he's all that you claim for him, Dave." "And the other youth," continued Willet, "is Robert Lennox, in a way a ward of mine, in truth almost a son to me.

What Tayoga is among the Onondagas, he is among the white people of New York.