“What, Montcalm near?” exclaimed Robert, aflame with interest.

“Look at the sky above the tops of those trees in the east and you will see a smudge of smoke, beneath which stand the tents of the French army.”

“The French army here!  And what is it doing in the wilderness?”

“That, young Monsieur Lennox, rests on the knees of the gods.  I have some curiosity on the subject myself.”

An hour or two later they came within sight of the French camp, and Robert saw that it was a numerous and powerful force for time and place.  The tents stood in rows, and soldiers, both French and Canadian, were everywhere, while many Indian warriors were on the outskirts.  A large white marquee near the center he was sure was that of the commander-in-chief, and he was eager to see at once the famous Montcalm, of whom he was hearing so much.  But to his intense disappointment, Langlade went into camp with the Indians.

“The Marquis de Montcalm is a great man,” he said, “the commander-in-chief of all the forces of His Majesty, King Louis, in North America, and even I, Charles Langlade, will not approach him without ceremony.  We will rest in the edge of the forest, and when he hears that I have come he will send for me, because he will want to know many things which none other can tell him.  And it may be, young Monsieur Lennox, that, in time, he will wish to see you also.”

So Robert waited with as much patience as he could muster, although he slept but little that night, the noises in the great French camp and his own curiosity keeping him awake.  What was Montcalm doing so far from the chief seats of the French power in Canada, and did the English and Americans know that he was here?

Curiously enough he had little apprehension for himself, it was rather a feeling of joy that he had returned to the world of great affairs.  Soon he would know what had been occurring during the long winter when he was buried in an Indian village, and he might even hear of Willet.  Toward dawn he slept a little, and after daylight he was awakened by Langlade who was as assured and talkative as usual.

“It may be, my gallant young prisoner,” he said, ruffling and strutting, “that I am about to lose you, but if it is so it will be for value received.  I, Charles Langlade, have seen the great Marquis de Montcalm, but it was an equal speaking to an equal.  It was last night in his grand marquee, where he sat surrounded by his trusted lieutenants, De Levis, St. Luc, Bourlamaque, Coulon de Villiers and the others.  But I was not daunted at all.  I repeat that it was an equal speaking to an equal, and the Marquis was pleased to commend me for the work I have already done for France.”

“And St. Luc was there?”