The absence of news from his friends, and from the world to which they belonged, was the most terrible burden of all.  If the Indians had news they told him none.  He seemed to have vanished completely.  But, however numerous may have been his moments of despondency, he was not made of the stuff that yields.  The flexible steel always rebounded.  He took thorough care of his health and strength.  In his close little tepee he flexed and tensed his muscles and went through physical exercises every night and morning, but it was on the lake in the fishing, where the Indians grew to recognize his help, that he achieved most.  Fighting the winds, the water and the cold, he felt his muscles harden and his chest enlarge, and he would say to himself that when the spring came and he escaped he would be more fit for the life of a free forest runner than he had ever been before.  Langlade, when he returned, took notice of his increased size and strength and did not withhold approval.

“I like any prisoner of mine to flourish,” he laughed.  “The more superior you become the greater will be the reward for me when I dispose of you.  You have found the Dove all I promised you she should be, haven’t you, Monsieur Lennox?”

“All and more,” replied Robert.  “Although she may be out of sight I feel that her eyes are always on me, and this is true of the night as well as the day.”

“A great woman, the Dove, and a wife to whom I give all credit.  If it should come into the king’s mind to call me to Versailles and bestow upon me some kind of an accolade perhaps Madame Langlade would not feel at home in the great palace nor at the Grand Trianon, nor even at the Little Trianon, and maybe I wouldn’t either.  But since no such idea will enter His Majesty’s mind, and I have no desire to leave the great forests, the Dove is a perfect wife for me.  She is the true wilderness helpmate, accomplished in all the arts of the life I live and love, and with the eye and soul of a warrior.  I repeat, young Monsieur Lennox, where could I find a wife more really sublime?”

“Nowhere, Monsieur Langlade.  The more I see you two together the more nearly I think you are perfectly matched.”

The Owl seemed pleased with the recognition of his marital felicity, and grew gracious, dropping some crumbs of information for Robert.  He had been to Montreal and the arrival of the great soldier, the Marquis de Montcalm, with fresh generals and fresh troops from France, was expected daily at Quebec.  The English, although their fleets were larger, could not intercept them, and it was now a certainty that the spring campaign would sweep over Albany and almost to New York.  He spoke with so much confidence, in truth with such an absolute certainty, that Robert’s heart sank and then came back again with a quick rebound.

After a winter that had seemed to the young captive an age, spring came with a glorious blossoming and blooming.  The wilderness burst into green and the great lake shining in the sun became peaceful and friendly.  Warm winds blew out of the west and the blood flowed more swiftly in human veins.  But spring passed and summer came.  Then Langlade announced that he would depart with the best of the warriors, and that Robert would go with him, although he refused absolutely to say where or for what purpose.