The Lords of the Wild: A Story of the Old New York Border

by Joseph A. Altsheler

  CHAPTER XIV

  TICONDEROGA

  The French army rose with the sun, the drums beating the call tobattle. Montcalm stationed the battalions of Languedoc and La Sarre onthe left with Bourlamaque to command them, on the right De Levis ledthe battalions of Bearn, Guienne and La Reine. Montcalm himself stoodwith the battalion of Royal Roussillon in the center, and St. Luc wasby his side. Volunteers held the sunken ground between the breastworkand the outlet of Lake George, a strong force of regulars andCanadians was on the side of Lake Champlain under the guns of the fortthere. Then, having taken their places, all the parts of the army wentto work again, strengthening the defenses with ax and spade, improvingevery moment that might be left.

  All thought of escape left Robert's mind in the mighty and thrillingdrama that was about to be played before him. Once more he stared atthe long line of the lake, and then his whole attention was for thecircling forest, and the hills. That was where the army of his countrylay. Nothing was to be expected from the lake. Victory would comefrom the woods, and he looked so long at the trees that they blurredtogether into one mass. He knew that the English and Americans werenear, but just how near he could not gather from those around him.

  He brushed his eyes to clear them, and continued to study the forest.The sun, great and brilliant, was flooding it with light, gilding theslopes and crests of Defiance, and tinging the green of the leaveswith gold. Nothing stirred there. The wilderness seemed silent, as ifmen never fought in its depths. Time went slowly on. After all,the army might not advance to the attack that day. If so, hisdisappointment would be bitter. He wanted a great victory, and hewanted it at once.

  His eyes suddenly caught a gleam on the crest of Defiance. A bitof red flashed among the trees. He thought it was the uniform ofa British soldier, and his heart beat hard. The army was surelyadvancing, the attack would be made, and the victory would be won thatday, not on the morrow nor next week, but before the sun set.

  The blood pounded in his temples. He looked at the French. They,too, had seen the scarlet gleam on Defiance and they were watching.Montcalm and St. Luc began to talk together earnestly. De Levis andBourlamaque walked back and forth among their troops, but their gazewas upon the crest. The men lay down ax and spade for the time, andreached for their arms. Robert saw the sunlight glittering on musketand bayonet, and once more he thrilled at the thought of the greatdrama on which the curtain was now rising.

  Another scarlet patch appeared on the crest and then more. He knewthat the scouts and skirmishers were there, doubtless in strong force.It was likely that the rangers, who would be in forest green, weremore numerous than the English, and the attack could not now be faraway. A sharp crack, a puff of white smoke on the hill, and the firstshot of Ticonderoga was fired. Then came a volley, but the French madeno reply. None of the bullets had reached them. Robert did not knowit then, but the gleam came from the red blankets of Iroquois Indians,the allies of the English, and not from English uniforms. They kept upa vigorous but harmless fire for a short while, and then drew off.

  Silence descended once more on the forest, and Robert was puzzled. Itcould not be possible that this was to be the only attack. The smokeof the rifles was already drifting away from the crest, gone likesummer vapor. The French were returning to their work with ax andspade. The forest covered and enclosed everything. No sound came fromit. Montcalm and St. Luc, walking up and down, began to talk togetheragain. They looked no longer toward the crest of Defiance, but watchedthe southern wilderness.

  The work with the ax increased. Montcalm had no mind to lose theprecious hours. More trees fell fast, and they were added to theformidable works. The sun grew hotter and poured down sheaves of fieryrays, but the toilers disregarded it, swinging the axes with musclesthat took no note of weariness. Robert thought the morning wouldlast forever. An hour before noon De Galissonniere was passing, and,noticing him sitting on a low mound, he said:

  "I did not know what had become of you, Mr. Lennox, but I see thatyou, like ourselves, await the battle."

  "So I do," said Robert as lightly as he could, "but it seems to methat it's somewhat delayed."

  "Not our fault, I assure you. Perhaps you didn't think so earlier, butyou see we're willing to fight, no matter how great the odds."

  "I admit it. The Marquis de Montcalm has his courage--perhaps toomuch."

  De Galissonniere glanced at the strong works, and his smile wasconfident, but he merely said:

  "It is for the future to tell."

  Then he went on, and Robert hoped that whatever happened the battlewould spare the young Frenchman.

  Up went the sun toward the zenith. A light wind rustled the foliage.Noon was near, and he began to wonder anew what had become of theadvancing army. Suddenly, the echo of a crash came out of the forestin front. He stood erect, listening intently, and the sound roseagain, but it was not an echo now. It was real, and he knew that thebattle was at hand.

  The crashes became continuous. Mingled with them were shouts, anda cloud of smoke began to float above the trees. The French fired acannon as a signal, and, before the echoes of its report rolled away,every man dropped ax or spade, and was in his place, weapon in hand.The noise of the firing in front grew fast. Montcalm's scouts andpickets were driven in, and the soldiers of the advancing army beganto show among the trees. The French batteries opened. The roar inRobert's ear was terrific, but he stood at his utmost height in orderthat he might see the assault. His eyes caught the gleam of uniformsand the flash of sunlight on bayonet and rifle. He knew now that hisown people, dauntless and tenacious, were coming. He did not knowthat they had left their artillery behind, and that they expected todestroy the French army with bayonet and rifle and musket.

  The fire from the French barrier increased in volume. Its crash beatheavily and continuously on the drums of Robert's ears. A deadly sleetwas beating upon the advancing English and Americans. Already theirdead were heaping up in rows. Montcalm's men showed their heads onlyabove their works, their bodies were sheltered by the logs and theyfired and fired into the charging masses until the barrels of riflesand muskets grew too hot for them to hold. Meanwhile they shouted withall their might: "Vive la France! Vive notre General! Vive le Roi!"and St. Luc, who stood always with Montcalm, hummed softly and underhis breath: "Hier, sur le pont d'Avignon, j'ai oui chanter la belle."

  "It goes well," he said to Montcalm.

  "Aye, a fair beginning," replied the Marquis.

  Fire ran through French veins. No cannon balls were coming from theenemy to sweep down their defenses. Bullets from rifle and musket werebeating in vain on their wooden wall, and before them came the foe, avast, converging mass, a target that no one could miss. They were farfrom their own land, deep in the great North American wilderness, butas they saw it, they fought for the honor and glory of France, and tokeep what was hers. They redoubled their shouts and fired faster andfaster. A great cloud of smoke rose over the clearing and the forest,but through it the attacking army always advanced, a hedge of bayonetsleading.

  Robert saw everything clearly. His heart sank for a moment, and thenleaped up again. Many of his own had fallen, but a great red curve wasadvancing. It was the British regulars, the best troops in the chargethat Europe could furnish, and they would surely carry the woodenwall. As far as he could see, in front and to left and right, theirbayonets flashed in the sun, and a cry of admiration sprang to hislips. Forward they came, their line even and beautiful, and then thetempest beat upon them. The entire French fire was concentrated uponthe concave red lines. The batteries poured grape shot upon them anda sleet of lead cut through flesh and bone. Gaps were torn in theirranks, but the others closed up, and came on, the American Colonialson their flanks charging as bravely.

  Robert suddenly remembered a vision of his, vague and fleeting then,but very real now. He was standing here at Ticonderoga, looking atthe battle as it passed before him, and now it was no vision, but thetruth. Had Tayoga's Manitou opened the future to him for a moment?Then the memo
ry was gone and the terrific drama of the present claimedhis whole mind.

  The red lines were not stopped. In the face of awful losses they werestill coming. They were among the trees where the men were entangledwith the boughs or ran upon the wooden spikes. Often they tripped andfell, but rising they returned to the charge, offering their breaststo the deadly storm that never diminished for an instant.

  Robert walked back and forth in his little space. Every nerve was onedge. The smoke of the firing was in eye, throat and nostril, andhis brain was hot. But confidence was again supreme. "They'll come!They'll come! Nothing can stop them!" he kept repeating to himself.

  Now the Colonials on the flank pressed forward, and they also advancedthrough the lines of the regulars in front and charged with them.Together British and Americans climbed over the mass of fallen treesin face of the terrible fire, and reached the wooden wall itself,where the sleet beat directly upon their faces. For a long distancebehind them, their dead and wounded lay in hundreds and hundreds.

  Many of them tried to scale the barrier, but were beaten back. NowMontcalm, St. Luc, De Levis, Bourlamaque and all the French leadersmade their mightiest efforts. The eye of the French commander sweptthe field. He neglected nothing. Never was a man better served by hislieutenants. St. Luc was at every threatened point, encouraging withvoice and example. Bourlamaque received a dangerous wound, but refusedto quit the field. Bougainville was hit, but his hurt was less severe,and he took no notice of it, two bullets pierced the hat of De Levis,St. Luc took a half dozen through his clothes and his body was grazedthree times, but his gay and warlike spirit mounted steadily, and hehummed his little French air over and over again.

  More British and Americans pressed to the wooden wall. The new BlackWatch, stalwart Scotchmen, bagpipes playing, charged over everything.Two British columns made a powerful and tremendous attack upon theFrench right, where stood the valiant battalions of Bearn and Guienne.It seemed, for a while, that they might overwhelm everything. Theywere against the barrier itself, and were firing into the defense.Montcalm rushed to the spot with all the reserves he could muster. St.Luc sprang among the men and shouted to them to increase their fire.This point became the center of the battle, and its full fury wasconcentrated there. A mass of Highlanders, tearing at the wooden wall,refused to give back. Though they fell fast, a captain climbed up thebarrier. Officers and men followed him. They stood a moment on thecrest as if to poise themselves, and then leaped down among theFrench, where they were killed. Those who stood on the other side wereswept by a hurricane of fire, and at last they yielded slowly.

  Robert saw all, and he was seized with a great horror. The army wasnot crashing over everything. Those who entered the French works diedthere. The wooden wall held. Nowhere was the line of defense broken.Boats loaded with troops coming down the outlet of Lake George toturn the French left were repelled by the muskets of the Canadianvolunteers. Some of the boats were sunk, and the soldiers struggled inthe water, as cannon balls and bullets beat upon them.

  His view of the field was blurred, for a while, by the smoke fromso much firing, which floated in thickening clouds over all theopen spaces and the edges of the forest. It produced curious opticalillusions. The French loomed through it, increased fourfold innumbers, every individual man magnified in size. He saw them lurid andgigantic, pulling the triggers of their rifles or muskets, orworking the batteries. The cannon also grew from twelve-pounders oreighteen-pounders into guns three or four times as large, and manystood where none had stood before.

  The smoke continued to inflame his brain also, and it made him passthrough great alternations of hope and fear. Now the army was going tosweep over the wooden wall in spite of everything. With sheer weightand bravery it would crush the French and take Ticonderoga. It mustbe. Because he wanted it to be, it was going to be. Then he passedto the other extreme. When one of the charges spent itself at thebarrier, sending perhaps a few men over it, like foam from a wave thathas reached its crest, his heart sank to the depths, and he was surethe British and Americans could not come again. Mortal men wouldnot offer themselves so often to slaughter. If the firing died for alittle space he was in deep despair, but his soul leaped up again asthe charge came anew. It was certainly victory this time. Hopecould not be crushed in him. His vivid fancy made him hear above thetriumphant shouts of the French the deep cheers of the advancing army,the beating of drums and the playing of invisible bands.

  All the time, whether in attack or retreat, the smoke continued toincrease and to inflame and excite. It was like a gas, its taste wasacrid and bitter as death. Robert coughed and tried to blow it away,but it returned in waves heavier than ever, and then he ceased tofight against it.

  The British and American troops came again and again to the attack,their officers leading them on. Never had they shown greater courageor more willingness to die. When the first lines were cut down at thebarrier, others took their places. They charged into the vast mass offallen trees and against the spikes. Blinded by the smoke of so muchfiring, they nevertheless kept their faces toward the enemy and soughtto see him. The fierce cheering of the French merely encouraged themto new attempts.

  The battle went on for hours. It seemed days to Robert. Mass aftermass of British and Colonials continued to charge upon the woodenwall, always to be broken down by the French fire, leaving heaps oftheir dead among those logs and boughs and on that bristling array ofspikes. At last they advanced no more, twilight came over the field,the terrible fire that had raged since noon died, and the sun set uponthe greatest military triumph ever won by France in the New World.

  Twilight gathered over the most sanguinary field America had yet seen.In the east the dark was already at hand, but in the west the lightfrom the sunken sun yet lingered, casting a scarlet glow alike overthe fallen and the triumphant faces of the victors. Within the workswhere the French had stood fires were lighted, and everything therewas brilliant, but outside, where so much valor had been wasted,the shadows that seemed to creep out of the illimitable forest grewthicker and thicker.

  The wind moaned incessantly among the leaves, and the persistent smokethat had been so bitter in the throat and nostrils of Robert stillhung in great clouds that the wind moved but little. From the woodscame long, fierce howls. The wolves, no longer frightened by the crashof cannon and muskets, were coming, and under cover of bushes andfloating smoke, they crept nearer and nearer.

  Robert sat a long time, bewildered, stunned. The incredible hadhappened. He had seen it with his own eyes, and yet it was hard tobelieve that it was true. The great Anglo-American army had beenbeaten by a French force far less in numbers. Rather, it had beatenitself. That neglect to bring up the cannon had proved fatal, and thefinest force yet gathered on the soil of North America had been cutto pieces. A prodigious opportunity had been lost by a commander whostayed a mile and a half in the rear, while his valiant men charged tocertain death.

  Young Lennox walked stiffly a few steps. No one paid any attention tohim. In the dark, and amid the joyous excitement of the defenders, hemight have been taken for a Frenchman. But he made no attempt,then, to escape. No such thought was in his mind for the moment. Hisamazement gave way to horror. He wanted to see what was beyond thewooden wall where he knew the dead and wounded lay, piled deep amongthe logs and sharpened boughs. Unbelievable it was, but it was true.His own eyes had seen and his own ears had heard. He listened to thetriumphant shouts of the French, and his soul sank within him.

  A few shots came from the forest now and then, but the great army hadvanished, save for its fallen. Montcalm, still cautious, relaxing novigilance, fearing that the enemy would yet come back with his cannon,walked among his troops and gave them thanks in person. Beer and winein abundance, and food were served to them. Fires were lighted and thefield that they had defended was to be their camp. Many scouts weresent into the forest to see what had become of the opposing army. Mostof the soldiers, after eating and drinking, threw themselves upon theground and slept, but it was long be
fore the leader and any of hislieutenants closed their eyes. Although he felt a mighty joy over hisgreat victory of the day, Montcalm was still a prey to anxieties. Hisown force, triumphant though it might be, was small. The enemy mightcome again on the morrow with nearly four to one, and, if he broughthis cannon with him, he could take Ticonderoga, despite the greatlosses he had suffered already. Once more he talked with St. Luc, whomhe trusted implicitly.

  The Chevalier did not believe a second attack would be made, and hisbelief was so strong it amounted to a conviction.

  "The same mind," he said, "that sent their army against us withoutartillery, will now go to the other extreme. Having deemed usnegligible it will think us invincible."

  St. Luc's logic was correct. The French passed the night in peace, andthe next morning, when De Levis went out with a strong party to lookfor the enemy he found that he was gone, and that in his haste hehad left behind vast quantities of food and other supplies which theFrench eagerly seized. Montcalm that day, full of pride, caused agreat cross to be erected on his victorious field of battle and uponit he wrote in Latin:

  "Quid dux? quid miles? quid strata ingentia ligna? En Signum! en victor! Deus hic, Deus ipse triumphat."

  Which a great American writer has translated into:

  "Soldier and chief and ramparts' strength are nought; Behold the conquering cross! 'Tis God the triumph wrought."

  But for Robert the night that closed down was the blackest he had everknown. It had never occurred to him that Abercrombie's army could bedefeated. Confident in its overwhelming numbers, he had believed thatit would easily sweep away the French and take Ticonderoga. The skilland valor of Montcalm, St. Luc, De Levis and the others, no matter howskillful and valiant they might be, could avail nothing, and, afterTiconderoga, it would be a mere question of time until Crown Pointfell too. And after that would come Quebec and the conquest of Canada.

  Now, when his spirits had soared so high, the fall was correspondinglylow. His sensitive mind, upon which events always painted themselveswith such vividness, reflected only the darkest pictures. He saw thetriumphant advance of the French, the Indians laying waste the wholeof New York Province, and the enemy at the gates of New York itself.

  The night itself was a perfect reproduction of his own mind. He sawthrough his spirits as through a glass. The dusk was thick, heavy,it was noisome, it had a quality that was almost ponderable, it wasunpleasant to eye and nostril, he tasted and breathed the smoke thatwas shot through it, and he felt a sickening of the soul. He heard awind moaning through the forest, and it was to him a dirge, the lamentof those who had fallen.

  He knew there had been no lack of bravery on the part of his own.After a while he took some consolation in that fact. British andAmericans had come to the attack long after hope of success was gone.They had not known how to win, but never had men known better how todie. Such valor would march to triumph in the end.

  He lay awake almost the whole night, and he did not expect Abercrombieto advance again. Somehow he had the feeling that the play, so far asthis particular drama was concerned, was played out. The blow wasso heavy that he was in a dull and apathetic state from which he wasstirred only once in the evening, and that was when two Frenchmenpassed near him, escorting a prisoner of whose face he caught aglimpse in the firelight. He started forward, exclaiming:

  "Charteris!"[1]

  The young man, tall, handsome and firm of feature, although acaptive, turned.

  "Who called me?" he asked.

  "It is I, Robert Lennox," said Robert. "I knew you in New York!"

  "Aye, Mr. Lennox. I recognize you now. We meet again, after so longa time. I could have preferred the meeting to be elsewhere and underother circumstances, but it is something to know that you are alive."

  They shook hands with great friendliness and the Frenchmen, who wereguarding Charteris, waited patiently.

  "May our next meeting be under brighter omens," said Robert.

  "I think it will be," said Charteris confidently.

  Then he went on. It was a long time before they were to see each otheragain, and the drama that was to bring them face to face once more wasdestined to be as thrilling as that at Ticonderoga.

  The next night came heavy and dark, and Robert, who continued to betreated with singular forbearance, wandered toward Lake Champlain,which lay pale and shadowy under the thick dusk. No one stopped him.The sentinels seemed to have business elsewhere, and suddenly heremembered his old threat to escape. Hope returned to a mind that hadbeen stunned for a time, and it came back vivid and strong. Then hopesank down again, when a figure issued from the dusk, and stood beforehim. It was St. Luc.

  "Mr. Lennox," said the Chevalier, "what are you doing here?"

  "Merely wandering about," replied Robert. "I'm a prisoner, as youknow, but no one is bothering about me, which I take to be naturalwhen the echoes of so great a battle have scarcely yet died."

  St. Luc looked at him keenly and Robert met his gaze. He could notread the eye of the Chevalier.

  "You have been a prisoner of ours once before, but you escaped," saidthe Chevalier. "It seems that you are a hard lad to hold."

  "But then I had the help of the greatest trailer and forest runner inthe world, my staunch friend, Tayoga, the Onondaga."

  "If he rescued you once he will probably try to do it again, and thegreat hunter, Willet, is likely to be with him. I suppose you wereplanning a few moments ago to escape along the shore of the lake."

  "I might have been, but I see now that it is too late."

  "Too late is a phrase that should be seldom used by youth."

  Robert tried once again to read the Chevalier's eye, but St. Luc'slook contained the old enigma.

  "I admit," said young Lennox, "that I thought I might find an openplace in your line. It was only a possible chance."

  St. Luc shrugged his shoulders, and looked at the darkness that laybefore them like a great black blanket.

  "There is much yet to be done by us at Ticonderoga," he said. "Perhapsit is true that a possible chance for you to escape does exist, butmy duties are too important for me to concern myself about guarding asingle prisoner."

  His figure vanished. He was gone without noise, and Robert stared atthe place where he had been. Then the hope of escape came back, morevivid and more powerful than ever. "Too late," was a phrase thatshould not be known to youth. St. Luc was right. He walked straightahead. No sentinel barred the way. Presently the lake, still andluminous, stretched across his path, and, darting into the bushesalong its edge, he ran for a long time. Then he sank down and lookedback. He saw dimly the lights of the camp, but he heard no sound ofpursuit.

  Rising, he began a great curve about Ticonderoga, intending to seekhis own army, which he knew could not yet be far away. Once he heardlight footsteps and hid deep in the bush. From his covert he saw aband of warriors at least twenty in number go by, their lean, sinewyfigures showing faintly in the dusk. Their faces were turned towardthe south and he shuddered. Already they were beginning to raid theborder. He knew that they had taken little or no part in the battle atTiconderoga, but now the great success of the French would bring themflocking back to Montcalm's banner, and they would rush like wolvesupon those whom they thought defenseless, hoping for more slaughterslike that of William Henry.

  Tandakora would not neglect such a glowing opportunity for scalps. Hissavage spirit would incite the warriors to attempts yet greater, andRobert looked closely at the dusky line, thinking for a moment thathe might be there. But he did not see his gigantic figure and thewarriors flitted on, gone like shadows in the darkness. Then thefugitive youth resumed his own flight.

  Far in the night Robert sank down in a state of exhaustion. It wasa physical and mental collapse, coming with great suddenness, but herecognized it for what it was, the natural consequence flowing froma period of such excessive strain. His emotions throughout the greatbattle had been tense and violent, and they had been hardly less so inthe time that followed and in the
course of the events that led to hisescape. And knowing, he forced himself to do what was necessary.

  He lay down in the shelter of dense bushes, and kept himself perfectlyquiet for a long time. He would not allow hand or foot to move. Hisweary heart at last began to beat with regularity, the blood ceased topound in his temples, and his nerves grew steadier. He dozed a little,or at least passed into a state that was midway between wakefulnessand oblivion. Then the terrible battle was fought once more beforehim. Again he heard the crash and roar of the French fire, againhe saw British and Americans coming forward in indomitable masses,offering themselves to death, once again he saw them tangled among thelogs and sharpened boughs, and then mowed down at the wooden wall.

  He roused himself and passed his hands over his eyes to shut away thatvision of the stricken field and the vivid reminder of his terribledisappointment. The picture was still as fresh as the reality and itsent shudders through him every time he saw it. He would keep it fromhis sight whenever he could, lest he grow too morbid.

  He rose and started once more toward the south, but the forest becamemore dense and tangled and the country rougher. In his weakened statehe was not able to think with his usual clearness and precision, andhe lost the sense of direction. He began to wander about aimlessly,and at last he stopped almost in despair.

  He was in a desperate plight. He was unarmed, and a man alone andwithout weapons in the wilderness was usually as good as lost. Helooked around, trying to study the points of the compass. The nightwas not dark. Trees and bushes stood up distinctly, and on a bough notfar away, his eyes suddenly caught a flash of blue.

  The flash was made by a small, glossy bird that wavered on a bough,and he was about to turn away, taking no further notice of it, whenthe bird flew slowly before him and in a direction which he now knewled straight toward the south. He remembered. Back to his mind rushedan earlier escape, and how he had followed the flight of a bird tosafety. Had Tayoga's Manitou intervened again in his favor? Was itchance? Or did he in a dazed state imagine that he saw what he did notsee?

  The bird, an azure flash, flew on before him, and hope flowing in aninvincible tide in his veins, he followed. He was in continual fearlest the blue flame fade away, but on he went, over hills and acrossvalleys and brooks, and it was always just before him. He had beenworn and weary before, but now he felt strong and active. Couragerose steadily in his veins, and he had no doubt that he would reachfriends.

  Near dawn the bird suddenly disappeared among the leaves. Robertstopped and heard a light foot-step in the bushes. Being apprehensivelest he be re-taken, he shrank away and then stopped. He listened awhile, and the sound not being repeated, he hoped that he had beenmistaken, but a voice called suddenly from a bush not ten feet away:

  "Come, Dagaeoga! The Great Bear and I await you. Tododaho, watching onhis star, has sent us into your path."

  Robert, uttering a joyful cry, sprang forward, and the Onondaga andWillet, rising from the thicket, greeted him with the utmost warmth.

  "I knew we'd find you again," said Willet "How did you manage toescape?"

  "A way seemed to open for me," replied Robert. "The last man I saw inthe French camp was St. Luc. After that I met no sentinel, although Ipassed where a sentinel would stand."

  "Ah!" said Willet.

  They gave him food, and after sunrise they started toward the south.Robert told how he had seen the great battle and the French victory.

  "Tayoga, Black Rifle, Grosvenor and I were in the attack," saidWillet, "but we went through it without a scratch. No troops everfought more bravely than ours. The defeat was the fault of thecommander, not theirs. But we'll put behind us the battle lost andthink of the battle yet to be won."

  "So we will," said Robert, as he looked around at the great curvingforest, its deep green tinted with the light brown of summer. It was afriendly forest now. It no longer had the aspect of the night before,when the wolves, their jaws slavering in anticipation, howled in itsthickets. Rabbits sprang up as they passed, but the little creaturesof the wild did not seem to be afraid. They did not run away. Instead,they crouched under the bushes, and gazed with mild eyes at the humanbeings who made no threats. A deer, drinking at the edge of a brook,raised its head a little and then continued to drink. Birds sang inthe dewy dawn with uncommon freshness and sweetness. The whole worldwas renewed.

  Creature, as he was, of his moods, Robert's spirits soared again athis meeting with Tayoga and Willet, those staunch friends of his,bound to him by such strong ties and so many dangers shared. The pastwas the past, Ticonderoga was a defeat, a great defeat, when a victoryhad been expected, but it was not irreparable. Hope sang in hisheart and his face flushed in the dawn. The Onondaga, looking at him,smiled.

  "Dagaeoga already looks to the future," he said.

  "So I do," replied Robert with enthusiasm. "Why shouldn't I? The nightjust passed has favored me. I escaped. I met you and Dave, and it's aglorious morning."

  The sun was rising in a splendid sea of color, tinting the woods withred and gold. Never had the wilderness looked more beautiful to him.He turned his face in the direction of Ticonderoga.

  "We'll come back," he said, his heart full of courage, "and we'll yetwin the victory, even to the taking of Quebec."

  "So we will," said the hunter.

  "Aye, Stadacona itself will fall," said Tayoga.

  Refreshed and strong, they plunged anew into the forest, travelingswiftly toward the south.

  [Footnote 1: The story of Edward Charteris and his adventures atTiconderoga and Quebec is told in the author's novel, "A Soldier ofManhattan."]

  THE END