The village included perhaps four hundred souls, of whom about a hundred were warriors.  Langlade was king and Madame Langlade, otherwise the Dove, was queen, the two ruling with absolute sovereignty, their authority due to their superior intelligence and will and to the service they rendered to the little state, because a state it was, organized completely in all its parts, although composed of only a few hundred human beings.  In the bitter weather that came again, Langlade directed the hunting in the adjacent forest and the fishing conducted on the great lake.  He also made presents from time to time of gorgeous beads or of huge red or yellow blankets that had been sent from Montreal.  Robert could not keep from admiring his diplomacy and tact, and now he understood more thoroughly than ever how the French partisans made themselves such favorites with the wild Indians.

His own position in the village was tentative.  Langlade still seemed uncertain what to do with him, and held him meanwhile for a possible reward of great value.  He was never allowed to leave the cluster of tepees for the forest, except with the warriors, but he took part in the fishing on the lake, being a willing worker there, because idleness grew terribly irksome, and, when he had nothing to do, he chafed over his long captivity.  He slept in a small tepee built against that of Monsieur and Madame Langlade, and from which there was no egress save through theirs.

He was enclosed only within walls of skin, and he believed that he might have broken a way through them, but he felt that the eyes of the Dove were always on him.  He even had the impression that she was watching him while he slept, and sometimes he dreamed that she was fanged and clawed like a tigress.

Langlade went away once, being gone a long time, and while he was absent the Dove redoubled her watchfulness.  Robert’s singular impression that her eyes were always on him was strengthened, and these eyes were increased to the hundred of Argus and more.  It became so oppressive that he was always eager to go out with the warriors in their canoes for the fishing.  On Lake Ontario he was sure the eyes of the Dove could not reach him, but the work was arduous and often perilous.  The great lake was not to be treated lightly.  Often it took toll of the Indians who lived around its shores.  Winter storms came up suddenly, the waves rolled like those of the sea, freezing spray dashed over them, and it required a supreme exertion of both skill and strength to keep the light canoes from being swamped.

Yet Robert was always happier on water than on land.  On shore, confined closely and guarded zealously, his imaginative temperament suffered and he became moody and depressed, but on the lakes, although still a captive, he felt the winds of freedom.  When the storms came and the icy blasts swept down upon them he responded, body and soul.  Relief and freedom were to be found in the struggle with the elements and he always went back to shore refreshed and stronger of spirit and flesh.  He also had a feeling that Tayoga might come by way of the lake, and when he was with the little Indian fleet he invariably watched the watery horizon for a lone canoe, but he never saw any.