"There's a great expedition out from England under that young general, Wolfe, who distinguished himself at Louisbourg," he said. "It aims at the taking of Quebec, and we're very hopeful. The rendezvous is Louisbourg, on Cape Breton Island and army and navy, I suppose, are already there. Your own Royal Americans will be in it, and what we lost at Ticonderoga we propose to regain—and more—before Quebec. The Hawk is bound for Louisbourg to join the fleet, but she puts in at Boston first. If you choose to go on to Louisbourg with us you won't fare ill, because the captain has taken a great fancy for you."

"I thank you much," said Robert, gratefully. "I'm almost tempted to join the great expedition from Louisbourg into the St. Lawrence, but I feel that I must leave the ship at Boston. I'm bound to hunt up Willet and Tayoga, and we'll come by land. We'll meet you before the heights of Quebec."

Everything seemed to favor the northward voyage of the Hawk. Good winds drove her on, and Robert's heart leaped within him at the thought that he would soon be back in his own country. Yet he made little outward show of it. The gravity of mind and manner that he had acquired on the island remained with him. Habits that he had formed there were still very powerful. It was difficult for him to grow used to the presence of other people, and at times he longed to go out on his peak of observation, where he might sit alone for hours, with only the rustling of the wind among the leaves in his ears. The sound of the human voice was often strange and harsh, and now and then only his will kept him from starting when he heard it, as one jumps at the snarl of a wild animal in the bush.

But the friendship between him, Captain Whyte, Lieutenant Lanham and the other young officers grew. People instinctively liked Robert Lennox. Whether in his gay mood or his grave he had a charm of manner that few could resist, and his story was so strange, so picturesque that it invested him with compelling romance. He told all about his kidnapping and his life upon the island, but he said nothing of Adrian Van Zoon. He let it be thought that the motive of the slaver in seizing him was merely to get a likely lad for sale on a West India plantation. But his anger against Van Zoon grew. He was not one to cherish wrath, but on this point it was concentrated, and he intended to have a settlement. It was not meant that he should be lost, it was not meant that Adrian Van Zoon should triumph. He had been seized and carried away twice, and each time, when escape seemed impossible, a hand mightier than that of man had intervened in his favor.

He spoke a little of his thought once or twice when he stood on the deck of the Hawk on moonlight nights with Captain Whyte and Lieutenant Lanham.

"You can't live with the Indians as much as I have," he said, "especially with such a high type of Indian as the Iroquois, without acquiring some of their beliefs which, after all, are about the same as our own Christian religion. The difference is only in name. They fill the air with spirits, good and evil, and have 'em contending for the mastery. Now, I felt when I was on the island and even before that I was protected by the good spirits of the Iroquois, and that they were always fighting for me with the bad."

"I take it," said Captain Whyte, "that the Indian beliefs, as you tell them, are more like the mythology of the old Greeks and Romans. I'm a little rusty on my classics, but they had spirits around everywhere, good and bad, always struggling with one another, and their gods themselves were mixtures of good and evil, just like human beings. But I'm not prepared to say, Mr. Lennox, that you weren't watched over. It seems strange that of all the human beings on the slaver you should have been the only one saved and you the only one not stained with crime. It's a fact I don't undertake to account for. And you never found out the name of the pirate captain?"

"Neither his nor that of his ship. It had been effaced carefully from the schooner and all her boats."

"I suppose it will remain one of the mysteries of the sea. But tell me more about my cousin, Grosvenor. He was really becoming a trailer, a forest runner?"

"He was making wonderful progress. I never saw anybody more keen or eager."

"A fine lad, one of our best. I'm glad that you two met. I'd like to meet too that Frenchman, St. Luc, of whom you've spoken so often. We Englishmen and Frenchmen have been fighting one another for a thousand years, and it seems odd, doesn't it, Mr. Lennox, that it should be so? Why, the two countries can see each other across the Channel on clear days, and neighbors ought to be the best of friends, instead of the most deadly enemies. It seems that the farther a nation is from another the better they get along together. What is there in propinquity, Mr. Lennox, to cause hostility?"

"I don't know, but I suppose it's rivalry, the idea that if your neighbor grows he grows at your expense. Your hostility carries over to us in America also. We're your children and we imitate our parents. The French in Canada hate the English in the Provinces and the English in the Provinces hate the French in Canada, when there's so much of the country of each that they're lost in it."

"It's a queer world, Mr. Lennox. In spite of what you say and which I endorse, I'm going with an eager heart in the great expedition against Quebec, and so will you. I'll be filled with joy if it succeeds and so will you."

Robert admitted the fact.

"And I'd be delighted if we could meet a French sloop of about our own size and armament," continued the captain. "Every man on board the Hawk would go into battle with her eagerly, and yet I don't hate the French individually. They're a brave and gallant nation, and this St. Luc, of whom you speak, seems to be the very flower of chivalry."

The captain's wish to meet a French sloop of war of his own size was not granted. He had high hopes the fourth day when they saw a sail, but it proved to be a schooner out of Newport returning from Jamaica with a cargo of sugar and molasses. The Hawk showed her heels in disgust, and pursued her way northward.

As the time to reach Boston drew near, Robert's heart filled again. He would be back in his own land, and his world would be before him once more. He had already decided that he would go at once to Albany and there pick up the thread of his old life. He was consumed, too, by curiosity. What had happened since he was gone? His feeling that he had been in the island eight or nine years instead of eight or nine months remained. While it was his own world to which he was returning, it was also a new world.

Came the day when the harbor lights of the port of Boston showed through a haze and Robert, standing on the deck of the Hawk, watched the city rise out of the sea. He was dressed in a good suit of civilian clothing that he had found on the island, and he had some money that had never been taken from him when he was kidnapped, enough to pay his way from Boston to Albany. His kindly English friends wanted to lend him more, but he declined it.

"You can pay us back in Quebec," said White.

"I don't need it," replied Robert, "but I'll keep the rendezvous there with you both."

As the Hawk was to stay two or three days in port in order to take on supplies, they went ashore together, and the three were full of curiosity when they entered, for the first time, the town of which they had heard so much. Boston had already made such impress upon the imagination that all the English colonists were generally known to the French in Canada as Bostonnais. In England it had a great name, and there were often apprehensions about it. It was the heart and soul of the expedition when the New Englanders surprised the world by taking the great French fortress of Louisbourg, and it had an individuality and a personality which it has never lost.

"I don't know how I'm going to like it," said Captain Whyte, as they left the sloop. "I hear that they're very superior here, and consider us English a rather backward lot. Don't you think you'd better reconsider, Lennox, and go on with us to Louisbourg?"

Robert laughed.

"I'm not afraid of the Bostonians," he said. "I met some very competent ones on the shores of Lake George. There was one Elihu Strong, a colonel of Massachusetts infantry, whom I like to remember. In truth, Captain, what I see here arouses my admiration. You noticed the amount of shipping in the port. The Bostonians are very keen traders, and they say there are sharp differences in character between them and the people of our southern provinces, but as I come from a middle province, New York, I am, in a sense, neutral. The New Englanders have a great stake in the present war. Their country has been ravaged for more than a century by French and Indians from Canada, and this province of Massachusetts is sending to it nearly every man, and nearly every dollar it has."

"We know of their valor and tenacity in England," said Captain Whyte, "but we know also that they're men of their own minds."

"Why shouldn't they be? That's why they're English."

"Since you put it that way, you're right. But here we are."

The town, about the size of New York, looked like a great city to Robert. He had come from a land that contained only one inhabitant, himself, and it was hard for him now to realize there were so many people in the world. The contrast put crowds everywhere, and, at times, it was very confusing, though it was always interesting. The men were mostly tall, thin, and with keen but composed eyes. They were of purer British blood than those in New York, but it seemed to Robert that they had departed something from type. They were more strenuous than the English of Old England, and the New Yorkers, in character if not in blood and appearance, were more nearly English than the Bostonians. He also thought, and he was not judging now so much from a glimpse of Boston as from the New England men whom he had met, that they were critical both of themselves and others, and that they were a people who meant to have their way at any cost.

But his attempts to estimate character and type were soon lost in his huge delight at being back in his own country. Robert's mind was a mirror. It always reflected his surroundings. Quickly adaptable, he usually perceived the best of everything, and now busy and prosperous Boston in its thin, crisp air, delighted him immeasurably. His feelings were much as they had been when he visited New York. Here was a great city, that is, great for his country and time, and it was destined to be much greater.

As usual with sailors Captain Whyte and Lieutenant Lanham wished to go to a coffee house, and Robert, nothing loath, accompanied them to one of good quality to which they were directed near the water front. Here they found numerous guests in the great common room and much talk going forward, mostly talk of the war, as was natural. There was much criticism of the British Government, not restrained at all, rather increased, by the uniforms of the two naval officers.

"'Tis reported that the new expedition gathered at Louisbourg will go the way of the one that was repulsed at Ticonderoga," said a thin, elderly man. "I hear 'tis commanded by young Wolfe, who is sickly and much given to complaint. Abercrombie, who led us at Ticonderoga, was fat, old and slothful, and now Wolfe, who leads the new force is young, sickly and fretful. It seems that England can't choose a middle course. Why doesn't she send us a man?"

"That I can't tell you, Master Carver," said the man whom he was addressing, "but I do know that if England would consult Massachusetts more we'd fare better in this war. We should have marched over the French army at Ticonderoga. I can't understand to this day how we lost that battle."

"It seems that in very truth we lacked something there."

Robert was sitting not ten feet from them and their tone being so very critical, he could not restrain a word or two.

"Your pardon, if I interrupt," he said, "but hearing you speak in a somewhat slighting manner of Ticonderoga I'm bound to advise you that you're wrong, since I was there. The English and Scotch troops, with our own Americans, showed the very greatest valor on that sad occasion. 'Twas no fault of theirs. Our defeat was due to the lack of artillery, the very skillful arrangements of the French commander, the Marquis de Montcalm, and the extreme courage of the French army."

The two, who seemed to be merchants or shipping men, regarded him with interest but with no appearance of resentment because of his interference in their conversation. Apparently the criticism that they permitted so freely to themselves they were willing also to allow to others.

"But you are English," said the first who had spoken, "and 'tis most natural for you to defend the generals who are sent out from the home country."

"I am not English. I am a native of the Province of New York, and being a colonial like yourselves, I think we allow too little credit to the old country in the war. I speak as one who through the force of circumstances has been an eye witness to many of the facts. My name is Robert Lennox, sir, and my companions are Captain Stuart Whyte and Lieutenant John Lanham of His Majesty's twenty-two gun sloop of war Hawk, now in Boston harbor."

"And I, sir," responded the thin man with much courtesy, "am Samuel Carver, wholesale dealer in cloth and leather, and my friend is Lemuel Mason, owner of shipping plying principally to the West Indies. We're pleased to meet His Majesty's officers and also you, Mr. Lennox, who we can see is very young to have had so much experience in the wars. We trust that all of you will pardon our freedom of criticism, but we're at the heart of affairs here, and we see very clearly. It's not a freedom that we'll give up."

Captain Whyte laughed easily.

"If what we hear in England of Boston is true," he said, "'tis a privilege that nothing can make you give up. Perhaps 'tis as well. I'm all for free speech myself. Through it affairs are well threshed out. But I assure you you're wrong about General Wolfe. 'Tis true that he's young and that he's sickly, but he's been chosen by Mr. Pitt for most solid reasons. He has a great gift for arms. I've been fortunate enough to meet him once or twice, and I can assure you that he makes a most favorable impression. Moreover, the fact that he's been chosen by Mr. Pitt is proof of his worth. Mr. Pitt is a very great man and he has that highest of all talents, the ability to know other men and to direct them."

Captain Whyte spoke with much warmth and his words carried conviction.

"I can well believe you, sir, when you speak so highly of Mr. Pitt," said Mr. Carver. "'Tis evident that he has the honor and glory of England at heart and 'tis evident, too, that he does not mean to neglect the interests of the colonies, a matter of the utmost importance. 'Tis only Mr. Pitt among the home statesmen who have recognized our greatness on this side of the ocean."

"Believe me, sir, I'm not blind to the growth and prosperity of the colonies," said Captain Whyte. "I've seen your cities and I know how much the Americans have done in the present war."

"Then 'tis a pity that England also doesn't know it," said Mr. Mason somewhat sharply.

But Captain Whyte refused to be either angry or disconcerted.

"The width of our ocean always promotes ignorance, and misunderstandings," he said. "And 'tis true too that the closest of kin will quarrel, but families usually unite against an alien foe."

"'Tis so," admitted Mr. Mason, "and 'tis the business of statesmanship to smooth down the quarrels that arise between the different parts of a great kingdom. I trust that ours will always be equal to the task."

"Do you know a merchant of this city, Elihu Strong, who is also a colonel of the Massachusetts infantry?" asked Robert. "I met him in a strenuous business before Ticonderoga, where he also had a gallant part."

"We could scarce be Bostonians and not know Elihu Strong," said Mr. Carver. "One of the most active of our merchants, he has ships of his own that ply between here and England, and he has also taken a very zealous part in the war. The regiment that he commanded was equipped partly at his expense."

"Commanded?" exclaimed Robert.

"I used the past tense, not because he has fallen, my young friend, but Elihu was unfortunate enough to receive a severe wound in the leg some months after Ticonderoga, and he is now recuperating at his own home here near the Common. 'Tis not dangerous. He will not lose the leg, but he will not be able to walk on it for some months yet. A great pity, say I, that Elihu Strong is out of active service for a while, as His Majesty's government might profit greatly by his advice and leadership in the field."

"I've no doubt of it," said Captain Whyte with the greatest sincerity. "I'm all for coöperation with the experienced men of the colonies, and so is a far greater than I, the illustrious Mr. Pitt. They're on the ground, they've lived their lives here and they ought to know."

"Our hope is in Mr. Pitt," said Mr. Carver. "You speak well of him, Captain Whyte, and 'tis pleasing to our ears to hear you, because you cannot know how his name inspires confidence in the colonies. Why, sir, we look upon him as almost the half of England!"

It was so. And it was destined to remain so. Whatever happened between England and America, the name of the elder Pitt, the great Englishman, kept and keeps its place in the hearts of Americans, who in some respects are the most sentimental and idealistic of all peoples.

Robert saw that the two young English officers and the two middle aged Boston merchants were arriving at an understanding, that good relations were established already, and he thought it wise to leave them together.

"I think," he said, "that I will visit Colonel Strong at his house, and as my time in Boston must be short 'twill be best for me to go now."

Both Mr. Carver and Mr. Mason urged him to spend the night at their houses, and Captain Whyte and Lieutenant Lanham were zealous for his return with them to the Hawk, but he declined the offer, though saying he would certainly visit the sloop before he left Boston. He judged that it would be wise to leave the four together, in the coffee-house, and, after receiving careful instructions how to reach the mansion of that most respectable and worthy Bostonian, Colonel Elihu Strong, he went into the street.

He found the Strong home to be a goodly house, one of the best in the city, partly of brick and partly of wood, with columns in front, all very spacious and pleasing. He knocked with a heavy brass knocker and a trim colored maid responded.

"Is Colonel Strong at home?" he asked.

"He is, sir," she responded in English as good as his own, "though confined to his chair with a wound in the leg which makes his temper a trifle short at times."

"Naturally. So would mine be if I couldn't walk. I wish to see him."

"What name, sir, shall I say?"

"Tell him 'tis one who served with him in wilderness fighting, on the eve of Ticonderoga."

She looked at him doubtfully, but her face cleared in a moment. Robert's frank, open gaze invited everybody's confidence.

"Come into the hall, sir," she said, and then led the way from the hall into a large room opening upon a lawn, well-shaded by many fine, large trees. Elihu Strong sat in a chair before one of the windows, and his wounded leg, swathed heavily, reposed in another chair.

Robert paused, and his heart beat rather hard. This was the first friend of his old life that he had seen. Now, he was coming in reality back to his world. He stood a few moments, irresolute, and then advancing lightly he said:

"Good morning, Colonel Strong!"

The wounded man wheeled in his chair and looked at him, inquiry in his face. Robert did not know what changes his life on the island had made in his appearance, his expression rather, but he saw that Colonel Strong did not know him, and it pleased him to play for a minute or so with the fact.

"You did not receive this bullet, sir, when you saved us from St. Luc," he said. "It must have been much later, but I know it was a bad moment for the Province of Massachusetts when the hostile lead struck you."

Colonel Strong stared.

"Who are you?" he exclaimed.

"There was a battle on the shores of Lake George, at a point where our men had been building boats. They were besieged by a mixed force of French and Indians, commanded by the great French partisan leader, St. Luc. They beat off the attacks, but they would have been overcome in time, if you had not hurried to their relief, with a strong force and two brass cannon."

"That is true and if the Governor and Legislature of Massachusetts had done their full duty we'd have had twice as many men and four, six, or even eight cannon in place of two. But what do you know about those things?"

"There were two boys, one Indian and one white, who came on the lake, telling you of the plight of the boat builders. The Indian was Tayoga of the Clan of the Bear, of the Nation Onondaga, of the Great League of the Hodenosaunee, the finest trailer in the world. The white boy was Robert Lennox, of the Province of New York."

"Aye, you speak truly. Full well do I remember them. How could I forget them? Tayoga is back there now with the hunter Willet, doing some great service in the war, what I know not, but it is something surely great. The white boy, Robert Lennox, is dead. A great loss, too! A fine and gallant lad."

"How do you know he is dead?"

"I had it in a letter from Master Benjamin Hardy of New York, with whom I often transact affairs of business, and he, in turn, had it from one Jacobus Huysman, a burgher of Albany in most excellent standing. Parts of the matter are obscure, but the result is certain. It seems that the lad was stalked by a spy, one Garay, and was murdered by him. His body, they think, was thrown into the Hudson and was carried away. At least it was never found. A most tragic business. I could have loved that lad as if he had been my own son. It caused great grief to both Hardy and Huysman,—and to me, too."

A lump came into Robert's throat. He did have friends, many and powerful, and they mourned him. He seemed to have the faculty of inspiring liking wherever he went. He had been standing in the shadow, while the wounded man sat where the sunlight from the windows poured upon him. He moved a little nearer where he could be more clearly seen, and said:

"But what if I tell you that Robert Lennox is not dead, that he survived a most nefarious plot against him, that he was, in truth, kidnapped and carried far away to sea, but was rescued in a most remarkable manner and has come back to his own land."

"'Tis impossible! 'Tis a wild tale, though God knows I wish it were true, because he was a fine and gallant lad."

"'Tis a wild tale, sir, that I confess, but 'tis not impossible, for it has happened. I am that Robert Lennox who came with Tayoga, the Onondaga, in the canoe, through the fog on Lake George, to you, asking that you hurry to the relief of the boat builders! You will remember, sir, the fight at the ford, when they sought to ambush us, and how we routed them with the cannon. You'll recall how St. Luc drew off when we reached the boat builders. I've been away a long time, where every month counted as a year, and perhaps I've changed greatly, but I'm that same Robert Lennox to whom you said more than once that if the Governor and Legislature of the Province of Massachusetts had done their full duty your force would have been three or four times as strong."

"What? What? No stranger could know as much as you know! Come farther into the light, boy! The voice is nearly the same as I remember it, but the face has changed. You're older, graver, and there's a new look! But the eyes are like his! On my soul I believe it's Robert Lennox! Aye, I know 'tis Robert! Come, lad, and shake hands with me! I would go to you but this wretched wound holds me in my chair! Aye, boy, yours is the grasp of a strong and honest hand, and when I look into your eyes I know 'tis you, Robert, your very self. Sit you down and tell me how you have risen from the grave, and why you've come to comfort an old man with this most sudden and welcome news!"

The moisture rose in Robert's eyes. Truly he had friends, and not least among them was this thin, shrewd Bostonian. He drew a chair close to the colonel and spun the wonderful tale of his kidnapping, the sea fight, the wreck, the island and his rescue by the Hawk. Colonel Strong listened intently and seldom interrupted, but when Robert had finished he said:

"'Tis clear, lad, that your belief in the good spirits was well placed. We lose nothing by borrowing a little from the Iroquois beliefs. Their good spirits are our angels. 'Tis all the same in the essence, only the names are different. 'Tis clear, too, that they were watching over you. And now this house is your home so long as you stay in Boston. We're full of the great war, as you'll soon learn. Mr. Pitt has sent over a new commander and a mighty attempt will be made on Quebec, though if the King and Parliament of Britain did their full duty, the expedition would be three times as large, and, if the Legislature and Governor of Massachusetts also did their full duty, they would give three times as much help."

"I'll stay gladly with you to-night, sir, but I must go in the morning. I wish to reach Albany as soon as possible and show that I'm not dead. You're the first, sir, of all my friends, to learn it. I must tell my comrades of the Hawk good-bye too. They've been very good to me, and their ship is in your harbor."

"But you spend the night here. That's promised, and I can give you news of some of your friends, those gallant lads who were with us in the great adventure by the lake. The young Englishman, Grosvenor, the Philadelphians, Colden, Wilton and Carson, and the Virginians, Stuart and Cabell, have all been to see me. Grosvenor joins a regiment with Wolfe, the Grenadiers, I think, and the Philadelphians and Virginians are transferred to the Royal Americans, for the term of the war, at least."

"I hope to see them all, sir, under the walls of Quebec. Captain Whyte of the Hawk offered to take me in his ship to the rendezvous at Louisbourg, but I felt that I must go first to Albany and then join Willet and Tayoga. We'll go by land and meet the army and fleet coming down the St. Lawrence."

"A proper plan, and a proper ambition, my lad. I would that I could be with you, but this wound may hold me here. As for going to Albany, I may assist you in that matter. A company of Boston merchants are sending a despatch, that is, a stage, to Albany to-morrow. I am one of that company and I can provide a place for you."

"My very great thanks are yours, sir."

"Say no more about it. 'Tis just what I ought to do. 'Tis a long journey, but 'tis a fine time of the year, and you'll have a pleasant trip. Would that I had your youth and your unwounded leg and I'd be with you under the walls of Quebec, whether we take the city or not."

His eyes sparkled and his thin cheeks flushed with his intense fire. Robert knew that there was no more valiant soldier than the shrewd Boston merchant, and he appreciated his intense earnestness.

"Perhaps, sir," he said, "your recovery will be in full time for the campaign."

"I fear not, I'm sure not, Mr. Lennox, and yet I wish with all my soul to be there. I foresee victory, because I think victory is due. 'Tis not in nature for the French in Canada, who are few and who receive but little help from their own country, to hold back forever the whole might of Britain and her colonies. They have achieved the impossible already in stemming the flood so long, and because it's about time for the weight, in spite of everything, to break over the dam, I think that victory is at hand. And then, Britain will be supreme on the North American continent from the Spanish domains northward to the Pole."

"And that means a tremendous future, sir, for England and her colonies!"

The face of Elihu Strong clouded.

"I do not know," he cried. "I hope so, and yet, at times, I fear not. You think only of united hearts in England and America and a long future under one flag. I repeat that I wish it could be so and yet the old always regard the new with patronage, and the new always look upon the old with resentment. There are already differences between the English and Americans, questions of army rank, disputes about credit in the field, different points of view, created by the width of an ocean."

"But if we are victorious and overrun Canada, they will be settled."

"There lies the greatest danger, my lad. 'Tis the common peril that holds us together for the time. When this shadow in the north which has overhung us so long, is removed, the differences will grow the greater, and each side will assert itself. 'Tis in our common blood. The English are a free people and freedom brings diversities, differing opinions and a strenuous expression of them. I see already great issues between the colonies and the mother country, and I pray that temperate men may have the handling of them. The wrong will not be all on one side, nor the right either. But enough of an old man's forebodings! Why should I poison your happy return from an adventure, in which your chance of escape was not one in ten?"

Robert talked with him a while longer, and then he suggested that he go to the Hawk and tell his friends there good-bye, as they had probably returned to the ship by this time.

"But be sure you're back here by nightfall," said Colonel Strong. "You favor me, lad, by coming. It refreshes me to see you and to talk with one who had a share with me in an eventful campaign. And have you money enough for this trip to Albany? I take it that you were not accumulating much treasure while you were on the island, and a loan may be timely."

Robert thanked him, but said he had enough for his needs. He promised also to be back by nightfall, and, having said farewell to the officers of the sloop, he returned to Colonel Strong's mansion at the appointed time.

CHAPTER XII

The special coach departed the next morning and Robert sat upon the seat with the driver. All things were auspicious. The company in the coach was good, the driver was genial and the weather fine. It was a long trip and they slept several nights in inns by the way, but Robert always had pleasant memories of that journey. He was seeing his country under the most favorable conditions, well cultivated, trim and in the full freshness of spring.

They reached Albany and his heart beat hard once more. He realized now that he was one risen from the dead. His reception by Colonel Strong had shown him that, but he believed the joy of his friends would be great when they saw him. The coach drew up at the George Inn, and, leaving it there, he started through the streets, taking no baggage.

It was the same busy little city with its thrifty Dutch burghers. The tide of war had brought added prosperity to Albany, and he saw about him all the old signs of military preparations. It was yet a base for the great campaigns to the northward. Evidently the fear of an attack by Montcalm had passed, as he did not see apprehension or depression in the faces of the people.

He went directly to the house of Master Jacobus Huysman, that staunch friend of his and Tayoga's, and the solid red brick building with its trim lawns and gardens looked as neat and comfortable as ever. It was hard to believe that he had gone away, that he had been so long on an island. Nothing had been changed except himself and he felt different, much older.

He lifted the heavy brass knocker, and struck thrice. The sound of footsteps came from within, and he knew at once that they were Caterina's. Middle-aged, phlegmatic and solid she had loved both him and Tayoga, despite tricks and teasing, but he knew her very phlegm would keep her from being startled too much. Only an earthquake could shake the poise of Caterina.

The door swung slowly open. The nature of Caterina was cautious and she never opened a door quickly.

"Good-morning, Caterina," said Robert. "Is Master Jacobus in? I stayed away a bit longer than I intended, and I wish to make my apologies to him, if I've caused him any inconvenience."

The mouth of Caterina, a wide cleft, opened full as slowly as the door and full as steadily, and her eyes seemed to swell at the same time. But she did not utter a word. Words might be forming in her throat, though they were not able to pass her lips. But Robert saw amazement and joy in her eyes. She knew him. That was evident. It was equally evident that she had been struck dumb, so he grasped her large and muscular hand and said:

"I've come back, Caterina, a trifle late 'tis true, but as you see I'm here. It's not my fault that I've been delayed a little. I hope that Master Jacobus is well. I know he's in his study as the odor of his pipe comes floating to me, a pleasant odor too, Caterina; I've missed it."

"Aye! Aye!" said Caterina. It was all she could manage to say, but suddenly she seized his hand, and fell to kissing it.

"Don't do that, Caterina!" exclaimed Robert, pulling his hand away. "You're glad to see me and I'm glad to see you. I'm no ghost. I'm solid and substantial, at least ten pounds heavier than I was when I went away suddenly at the invitation of others. And now, Caterina, since you've lost your voice I'll go in and have a talk with Master Jacobus."

Caterina's mouth and eyes were still opening wider and wider, but as Robert gave her an affectionate pat on the shoulder she managed to gasp:

"You haf come back! you wass dead, but you wouldn't stay dead."

"Yes, that's it, Caterina, I wouldn't stay dead, or rather I was lost, but I wouldn't stay lost. I'll go in now and see Master Jacobus."

He walked past her toward the odor of the pipe that came from the study and library of Mr. Huysman, and Caterina stood by the door, still staring at him, her mouth opening wider and wider. No such extraordinary thing had ever happened before in the life of Caterina, and yet it was a happy marvel, one that filled her with gratitude.

The door of Mr. Huysman's room was open and Robert saw him very clearly before he entered, seated in a great chair of mahogany and hair cloth, smoking his long hooked pipe and looking thoughtfully now and then at some closely written sheets of foolscap that he held in his hand. He was a solid man of the most solid Dutch ancestry, solid physically and mentally, and he looked it. Nothing could shake his calm soul, and it was a waste of time to try to break anything to him gently. Good news or bad news, it was well to be out with it, and Robert knew it. So he stepped into the room, sat down in a chair near that of Mr. Huysman and said:

"I hope, sir, that I've not caused you any inconvenience. I didn't mean to keep you waiting so long."

Master Jacobus turned and regarded him thoughtfully. Then he took one long puff at his pipe, removed it from his mouth, and blew the smoke in spirals towards the ceiling.

"Robert," he said, after an inspection of a full minute, "why were you in such a hurry about coming back? Are you sure you did everything you should before you came? You wass sometimes a hasty lad."

"I can't recall, sir, anything that I've neglected. Also, I wiped my shoes on the porch and I shut the door when I came in, as Caterina used to bid me do."

"It iss well. It shows that you are learning at last. Caterina and I haf had much trouble teaching manners to you and that young Onondaga scamp, Tayoga."

"As we grow older, sir, we have more desire to learn. We're better able to perceive the value of good advice."

Master Jacobus Huysman put the stem of his long pipe back in his mouth, took the very longest draught upon it that he had ever drawn, removed it again, sent the smoke rushing in another beautiful spear of spirals toward the ceiling, and, then, for the first and last time in his life, he lost all control over himself. Springing to his feet he seized Robert by both hands and nearly wrung them off.

"Robert, my lost lad!" he exclaimed. "It iss you! it iss really you! I knew that you wass dead, and, yet when you walked into the room, I knew that it wass you alive! Your face iss changed! your look iss changed! your manner iss changed! you are older, but I would have known you anywhere and at the first glance! You do not understand how much you took out of my life when you went, and you do not know how much you have brought back when you come again! I do not ask why you left or where you have been, you can tell it all when you are ready! It iss enough that you are here!"

Tears rose in Robert's eyes and he was not ashamed of them. He knew that his welcome would be warm, but it had been even warmer than he had expected.

"I did not go away of my own accord, sir," he said. "I could not have been so heartless as that. I've a wonderful tale to tell, and, as soon as you give me all the news about my friends, I'll tell it."

"Take your time, Robert, take your time. Maybe you are hungry. The kitchen iss full of good things. Let me call Caterina, and she will bring you food."

The invitation of the good Mynheer Jacobus, a very natural thought with him, eased the tension. Robert laughed.

"I thank you, sir," he said, "but I cannot eat now. Later I'll show you that I haven't lost my ability at the trencher, but I'd like to hear now about Tayoga and Dave."

"They're gone into the northern forests to take part in the great expedition that's now arranging against Quebec. We hunted long, but we could discover no trace of you, not a sign, and then there was no conclusion left but the river. You had been murdered and thrown into the Hudson. Your body could not disappear in any other way, and we wass sure it must have been the spy Garay who did the foul deed. Only Tayoga kept any hope. He said that you wass watched over by Manitou and by his own patron saint, Tododaho, and though you might be gone long, Manitou and Tododaho would bring you back again. But we thought it wass only a way he had of trying to console himself for the loss of his friend. Willet had no hope. I wass sorry, sorry in my soul for David. He loved you as a son, Robert, and the blow wass one from which he could never have recovered. When all hope wass gone he and Tayoga plunged into the forest, partly I think to forget, and I suppose they have been risking the hair on their heads every day in battle with the French and Indians."

"It is certain that they won't shirk any combat," said Robert. "Valiant and true! No one was ever more valiant and true than they are!"

"It iss so, and there wass another who took it hard, very hard. I speak of Benjamin Hardy of New York. I wrote him the letter telling him all that we knew, and I had a reply full of grief. He took it as hard as Willet."

"It was almost worth it to be lost a while to discover what good and powerful friends I have."

"You have them! You have them! And now I think, Robert, that the time draws nigh for you to know who you are. No, not now! You must wait yet a little longer. Believe me, Robert, it iss for good reasons."

"I know it, Mr. Huysman! I know it must be so! But I know also there is one who will not rejoice because I've come back! I mean Adrian Van Zoon!"

"Why, Robert, what do you know of Adrian Van Zoon?"

"I was told by a dying man to beware of him, and I've always heard that dying men speak the truth. And this was a dying man who was in a position to know. I'm sure his advice was meant well and was based on knowledge. I think, Mr. Huysman, that I shall have a large score to settle with Adrian Van Zoon."

"Well, maybe you have. But tell me, lad, how you were lost and how you came back."

So, Robert told the long story again, as he had told it to Elihu Strong, though he knew that he was telling it now to one who took a deeper and more personal interest in him than Colonel Strong, good friend though the latter was. Jacobus Huysman had settled back into his usual calm, smoking his long pipe, and interrupting at rare intervals with a short question or two.

"It iss a wonderful story," he said, when Robert finished, "and I can see that your time on the island wass not wholly lost. You gained something there, Robert, my lad. I cannot tell just what it iss, but I can see it in you."

"I feel that way myself, sir."

"No time iss ever lost by the right kind of a man. We can put every hour to some profit, even if it iss not the kind of profit we first intended. But I will not preach to one who hass just risen from the dead. Are you sure, Robert, you will not have a dinner now? We have some splendid fish and venison and sausage and beef! Just a plate of each! It will do you good!"

Robert declined again, but his heart was very full. He knew that Master Jacobus felt deep emotion, despite his calmness of manner, and this was a way he had of giving welcome. To offer food and to offer it often was one of the highest tributes he could pay.

"I could wish," he said, "that you would go to New York and stay with Benjamin Hardy, but as you will not do it, I will not ask it. I know that nothing on earth can keep you from going into the woods and joining Willet and Tayoga, and so I will help you to find them. Robert Rogers, the ranger leader, will be here to-morrow, and he starts the next day into the north with a force of his. He can find Willet and Tayoga, and you can go with him."

"Nothing could be better, sir. I know him well. We've fought side by side in the forest. Is he going to lead his rangers against Quebec?"

"I do not know. Maybe so, and maybe he will have some other duty, but in any event he goes up by the lakes, and you're pretty sure to find Tayoga and Willet in that direction. I know that you will go, Robert, but I wish you would stay."

"I must go, and if you'll pardon me for saying it, sir, you won't wish in your heart that I would stay. You'd be ashamed of me, if I were to do so."

Mr. Huysman made no answer, but puffed a little harder on his pipe. Very soon he sent for Master Alexander McLean, and that thin dry man, coming at once, shook hands with Robert, released his hand, seized and shook it a second and a third time with more energy than ever. Mr. McLean, an undemonstrative man, had never been known to do such a thing before, and he was never known to do it again. Master Jacobus regarded him with staring eyes.

"Alexander iss stirred! He iss stirred mightily to make such a display of emotion," he said under his breath.

"Robert hass been away on an island all by himself, eight or nine months or more," he added, aloud.

"And of course," said Master McLean, who had recovered his usual calm, "he forgot all his classical learning while he was there. I do not know where his island is, but desert islands are not conducive to a noble education."

"On the contrary, sir," said Robert, "I learned more about good literature when I was there than I ever did anywhere else, save when I sat under you."

"'Tis clearly impossible. In such a place you could make no advancement in learning save by communing with yourself."

"Nevertheless, sir, happy chance gave me a supply of splendid books. I had Shakespeare, Marlowe, Beaumont and Fletcher, translations of Homer and of other great Greeks and Latins."

Mr. McLean's frosty eyes beamed.

"What a wonderful opportunity!" he said. "Eight or nine months on a desert island with the best of the classics, and nobody to disturb you! No such chance will ever come to me, I fear. Which book of the Iliad is the finest, Robert?"

"The first, I think. 'Tis the noble opening, the solemn note of tragedy that enchains the attention of us all."

"Well answered. But I wish to make a confession to you and Jacobus, one that would shock nearly all scholars, yet I think that I must speak it out, to you two at least, before I die. There are times when my heart warms to the Odyssey more than it does to the Iliad. The personal appeal is stronger in the Odyssey. There is more romance, more charm. The interest is concentrated in Ulysses and does not scatter as it does in the Iliad, where Hector is undoubtedly the most sympathetic figure. And the coming home of Ulysses arouses emotion more than anything in the Iliad. Now, I have made my confession—I suppose there is something in the life of every man that he ought to hide—but be the consequences what they may I am glad I have made it."

Mr. McLean rose from his chair and then sat down again. Twice that day he had been shaken by emotion as never before, once by the return of the lad whom he loved, risen from the dead, and once by the confession of a terrible secret that had haunted him for years.

"When I was on the island I reread both books in excellent translations," said Robert, the utmost sympathy showing in his voice, "and I confess, sir, though my opinion is a poor one, that it agrees with yours. Moreover, sir, you have said it ahead of me. I shall maintain it, whenever and wherever it is challenged."

Mr. McLean's frosty blue eyes gleamed again, and his sharp strong chin set itself at a firm defiant angle. It was clear that he was relieved greatly.

"Have a pipe, Alexander," said Master Jacobus. "A good pipe is a splendid fortifier of both body and soul, after a great crisis."

Mr. McLean accepted a pipe and smoked it with methodical calm. Robert saw that a great content was settling upon both him and Mr. Huysman, and, presently, the burgher began to tell him news of vital importance, news that they had not known even in Boston when he left. It seemed that the Albany men had channels through Canada itself, by which they learned quickly of great events in the enemy's camp.

"Wolfe with his fleet and army will be in the Gulf of St. Lawrence very soon," said Master Jacobus, "and by autumn they will certainly appear before Quebec. Whatever happens there it will not be another Duquesne, nor yet a Ticonderoga. You must know, Robert, that the great merchants of the great ports get the best of information from England and from France too, because it is to their interest to do so. Mr. Pitt iss a great minister, the greatest that England hass had in centuries, a very great man."

"Colonel Strong said the same, sir."

"Colonel Strong hass the same information that we have. He iss one of our group. And the new general, Wolfe, iss a great man too. Young and sickly though he may be, he hass the fire, the genius, the will to conquer, to overcome everything that a successful general must have. I feel sure that he will be more than a match for Montcalm, and so does Alexander. As you know, Robert, Wolfe iss not untried. He was the soul of the Louisbourg attack last year. People said the taking of the place was due mostly to him, and they've called him the 'Hero of Louisbourg.'"

"You almost make me wish, sir, that I had accepted the offer of Captain Whyte and had gone on to Louisbourg."

"Do not worry yourself. If you find Willet and Tayoga, as you will, you can reach Quebec long before Wolfe can achieve much. He hass yet to gather his forces and go up the St. Lawrence. Armies and fleets are not moved in a day."

"Do you know what Rogers' immediate duties are?"

"I do not, but I think he iss to help the movement that General Amherst is going to conduct with a strong force against Ticonderoga and Crown Point. Oh, Mr. Pitt hass a great plan as becomes a great man, and Canada will be assailed on all sides. I hear talk too that Rogers will also be sent to punish the St. Francis Indians who have ravaged the border."

They talked a while longer, and Robert listened, intent, eager. The burgher and the schoolmaster had the vision of statesmen. They were confident that England and the colonies would achieve complete success, that all defeats and humiliations would be wiped away by an overwhelming triumph. Their confidence in Pitt was wonderful. That sanguine and mighty mind had sent waves of energy and enthusiasm to the farthest limits of the British body politic, whether on one side of the Atlantic or the other, and it was a singular, but true, fact, that the wisest were those who believed in him most.

Mr. McLean went away, after a while, and Robert took a walk in the town, renewing old acquaintances and showing to them how one could really rise from the dead, a very pleasant task. Yet he longed with all his soul for the forest, and his comrades of the trail. His condition of life on the island had been mostly mental. It had been easy there to subsist. His physical activities had not been great, save when he chose to make them so, and now he swung to the other extreme. He wished to think less and to act more, and he shared with Mr. Huysman and Mr. McLean the belief that the coming campaign would win for England and her colonies a complete triumph.

He too thrilled at the name of Pitt. The very sound of the four letters seemed to carry magic everywhere, with the young English officers on the ship, in Boston, in Albany, and he had noticed too that it inspired the same confidence at the little towns at which they stopped on their way across Massachusetts. Like a blast on the horn of the mighty Roland, the call of Pitt was summoning the English-speaking world to arms. Robert little dreamed then, despite the words of Colonel Strong, that the great cleavage would come, and that the call would not be repeated until more than a century and a half had passed, though then it would sound around the world summoning new English-speaking nations not then born.

Rogers, the famous ranger, upon whom Tayoga had bestowed the name Mountain Wolf, arrived the next day, bringing with him fifty men whom he supplied with ammunition for one of his great raids. The rest of his band was waiting for him near the southern end of Lake George, and he could stay only a few hours in Albany. He gave Robert a warm welcome.

"I remember you well, Mr. Lennox," he said. "We've had some hard fighting together around Lake George against St. Luc, Tandakora and the others, but I think the battle line will shift far northward now. Amherst is going to swoop down on Ticonderoga and Crown Point, and Sir William Johnson, well of his wound, is to march against Niagara. I'll punish the St. Regis Indians for all their barbarities. Oh, it's to be a great campaign, and I'll tell you a secret too."

"What is it?" asked Robert.

"We're to have St. Luc against us near the lakes once more. Could you ask for a better antagonist?"

Robert smiled at the man's eagerness, but his heart throbbed, as always, at the mention of the great French chevalier's name.

"He'll give us all we can do," he said.

"That's why I want to meet him," said Rogers. "The whole northern frontier is going to be ablaze."

Robert left that very day with Rogers and his men. Mr. Huysman purchased for him a splendid equipment which he forced him to accept, and he and Mr. McLean bade him good-by, while Caterina wept in her apron.

"Don't fear for me," said Robert, who was much moved. "Mr. Pitt will bring us all victory. His first efforts failed at Ticonderoga, as we know, but now he has all his forces moving on all fronts, and he's bound to succeed. You've said that yourselves."

"So we have, Robert," said Mr. Huysman, "and we shall watch for your return, confident that you'll come."

The next day the rangers, Robert with them, were far to the north of Albany, and then they plunged into the deep woods. Robert rejoiced at the breath of the forest now in its freshest green, not yet faded by summer heats. He had grown to love his island, but it was not like the mighty wilderness of North America, in which he had spent so much of his life. He kept at the head of the column, side by side with the Mountain Wolf, and his step was so strong and elastic that Rogers took approving notice.

"You like the woods, Robert," he said. "Well, so do I. It's the only place where a man can live a free life."

"I like the woods and the towns too," said Robert. "Each in its place. Where do we camp to-night?"

"By a little lake, a few miles farther on, and as we're not yet in the Indian country we'll make it a fire camp."

The lake covered only two or three acres, but it was set in high hills, and it was as clear as crystal. A great fire was built near the shore, two or three of the rangers caught plenty of fish for all, and they were broiled over the coals. Game had become so plentiful, owing to the ravages of the war, that a fat deer was shot near the water, and, when they added coffee and samp from their own stores, they had a feast.

Robert ate with a tremendous appetite, and then, wrapping himself in his blanket, lay down under a tree. But he did not go to sleep for a long time. He was full of excitement. All the omens and signs told him that he was coming into the thick of events once more, and he felt also that he would soon see Willet and Tayoga again. He would encounter many perils, but for the present at least he did not fear them. Much of his vivid youth was returning to him.

He saw the surface of the lake from where he lay, a beautiful silver in the clear moonlight, and he could even perceive wild fowl swimming at the far edge, unfrightened by the presence of man, or by the fires that he built. The skies were a great silver curve, in which floated a magnificent moon and noble stars in myriads. There was the one on which Tayoga's Tododaho lived, and so powerful was Robert's fancy that he believed he could see the great Onondaga sage with the wise snakes in his hair. And there too was the star upon which Hayowentha lived and the Onondaga and the Mohawk undoubtedly talked across space as they looked down on their people.

Out of the forest came the calls of night birds, and Robert saw one shoot down upon the lake and then rise with a fish in its talons. He almost expected to see the dusky figure of Tandakora creep from the bush, and he knew at least that the Ojibway chief would be somewhere near the lakes. Beyond a doubt they would encounter him and his warriors as they pressed into the north. Rogers, noticing that he was not asleep, sat down beside him and said:

"I suppose, Mr. Lennox, when you find Tayoga and Willet that you'll go with Amherst's army against Ticonderoga and Crown Point. A great force has gathered to take those places."

"I'm not sure," said Robert, "I think it depends largely upon what Tayoga and Dave have planned, but I want to go against Quebec, and I think they will too. Still, I'd like to see our defeat at Ticonderoga atoned for. It's a place that we ought to have, and Crown Point too."

"A scout that I sent out has come in," said Rogers, "and he says he's seen an Indian trail, not big enough to be of any danger to us, but it shows we'll have 'em to deal with before long, though this is south of their usual range. I hear an owl hooting now, and if I didn't know it was a real owl I could think it was Tandakora himself."

"I hear it too," said Robert, "and I'm not so sure that it's a real owl. Do you think that any band will try to cut us off before we reach Amherst and the lake?"

"I can't say, but my faith in the owl, Robert, is beginning to shake too. It may be an Indian belonging to the band that the scout told about, but I still don't think we're in any danger of attack. We're in too small force to try it down here, but they might cut off a straggler."

"I'd like to help keep the watch."

"We won't need you to-night, but I may call on you to-morrow night, so it's my advice to you to sleep now."

The Mountain Wolf walked away to look at his outposts—he was not one ever to neglect any precaution—and Robert, knowing that his advice was good, closed his eyes, trying to sleep. But his hearing then became more acute, and the long, lonesome note of the owl came with startling dreams. Its cry was in the west, and after a while another owl in the north answered it. Robert wished that Tayoga was with him. He would know, but as for himself he could not tell whether or no the owls were real. They might be Indians, and if so they would probably, when they gathered sufficient force, throw themselves across the path of the rangers and offer battle. This presence too indicated that Tayoga and Willet might be near, because it was against just such bands that they guarded, and once more his heart beat fast.

He opened his eyes to find that the beauty of the night had deepened, if that were possible. The little lake was molten silver, and the forest seemed silver too under silver skies. The moon, large and benignant, smiled down on the earth, not meant, so Robert thought, for battle. But the two owls were still calling to each other, and now he was convinced that they were Indians and not owls. He was really back in the wilderness, where there was no such thing as peace, the wilderness that had seldom ever known peace. But believing with Rogers that the force was too strong to be attacked he fell asleep, at last, and awoke to another bright summer day.

They resumed the advance with great caution. Rogers did not go directly toward the force of Amherst, but bore more toward the west, thinking it likely that he would have to meet the force of Sir William Johnson who was to coöperate with Prideaux in the attack on Niagara.

"Sir William has entirely recovered from the wound he received at the Battle of Lake George," Rogers said to Robert, "and he's again taking a big part in the war. We have Louisbourg and Duquesne, and now, if we take Niagara and Ticonderoga and Crown Point, we can advance in great force on Quebec and Montreal."

"So we can," said Robert, "but there are those owls again, hooting in the daytime, and I'm quite sure now they're Indians."

"I think so too, and it begins to look as if they meant an attack. Every mile here brings us rapidly nearer to dangerous country. I'll send out two more scouts."

Two of his best men were dispatched, one on either flank, but both came in very soon with reports of imminent danger. Trails were seen, and they had grown in size. One found the trace of a gigantic moccasin, and it was believed to be that of Tandakora. Many scouts knew his footstep. There was no other so large in the north. Rogers' face was grave.

"I think they're going to try to cut us off before we reach the bigger part of my force," he said. "If so, we'll give 'em a fight. You'll be in the thick of it much earlier than you expected, Robert."

Robert also was inclined to that opinion, but he was still confident they could not be menaced by any very large party, and he remained in that belief the next night, when they made their camp on a little hill, covered with bushes, but with open country on every side, an excellent site for defense. They ate another plentiful supper, then put out their fire, posted sentinels and waited.

Robert was among the sentinels, and Rogers, who had made him second in command until he was reunited with his main force, stood by him in the first hour while they waited. There was again a splendid moon and plenty of fine stars, shedding a brilliant glow over the forest, and they believed they could see any enemy who tried to approach, especially as the hill was surrounded on all sides by a stretch of open.

"It's a good place for a camp," said the Mountain Wolf, looking around with approval. "I believe they'll scarce venture to attack us here."

"But there are the owls," said Robert. "They're at least thinking about it."

The long mournful cry came from the depths of the forest, and then it was repeated a second and a third time at other points.

"The owls that send forth those calls," said Robert, "don't sit on the boughs of trees."

"No," said Rogers; "it's the warriors, not a doubt of it, and they'll be stealing in on us before long."

But several hours passed before there was any stir in the forest beyond the open. Then a rifle cracked there, but no one heard the impact of the bullet. Rogers laughed scornfully.

"Their lead fell short," he said. "How could they expect to hit any of us at such a range, and they not the best of marksmen even in the daylight. They can't hope to do any more than to keep us awake."

The rangers made no reply to the shot, they would not deign it with such notice, but the guard was doubled, while the others remained in their blankets. A half hour more passed, and a second shot came, but from a point much nearer.

"They're trying to steal forward through the grass that grows tall down there," said Rogers. "They're more bent on battle than I thought they'd be. It seems that they mean to stalk us, so we'll just stalk 'em back."

Four of the rangers, fine sharpshooters, edged their way along the slope, and, when the warriors among the trees fired, pulled trigger by the flash of their rifles. It was difficult to hit any one in such a manner, and more than twenty shots were fired by the two sides, before a death shout was uttered. Then it came from the forest, and Robert knew that one warrior was gone. He was taking no present part in the battle himself, held like the bulk of the force in reserve, but he was an intent observer. Rogers, the daring leader of the rangers, still standing by his side, took it all as a part of his daily work, which in truth it was.

"I think it was Thayer who brought down that warrior," he said. "Thayer is one of the bravest men I ever saw, and a great scout and trailer. He'd be worthy to go with Willet and Tayoga and you. Ah, there goes a second death shout! Any one who seeks a brush with these boys of mine does it at his own risk."

He spoke proudly, but one of his own men came creeping back presently with a wound in his shoulder. Rogers himself bound it up and the man lay down in his blanket, confident that in a week he could resume his place in the campaign. Those who lived the life he did had, of necessity, bodies as hard as iron.

The deadly skirmishing died down repeatedly, but, after a little while, it was always renewed. Though the warriors were getting the worst of it, they persisted in the attack, and Robert knew they must have some motive, not yet evident.

"Either they hope to frighten us back, or they mean to hold us until a much bigger force comes up," he said.

"One or the other," said Rogers, "but I don't believe any big band would venture down here. The hope to frighten us seems the more likely."

The combat, drawn out long and with so little result, annoyed Robert intensely. As he saw it, it could have no decisive effect upon anything and was more than futile, it was insensate folly. The original time set for his watch was over long since and he wanted to roll himself in his blanket and find slumber, but those ferocious warriors would not let him. Despite their losses, they still hung around the hill, and, giving up the attempt to stalk the defenders through the grass, fired long shots from the cover of the forest. Another ranger was wounded by a chance bullet, but Rogers, skillful and cautious, refused to be drawn from the shelter of the bushes on the hill.

Thus the fitful and distant combat was waged until dawn. But with the rise of a brilliant sun, throwing a clear light over the whole wilderness, the warriors drew off and the rangers resumed their march.