“Ah, yes.  I could see from your step and your eye that the woods were as a home to you.  The New England man goes on the waters and he slays the cod with more pleasure than the caribou.  Perhaps that is why his face is so sad.  I have been on the great water, and I remember that my face was sad also.  There is little wind, and so I think that we may light our pipes without danger.  With a good breeze I have known a burning pipe fetch up a scalping party from two miles’ distance, but the trees stop scent, and the Iroquois noses are less keen than the Sioux and the Dacotah.  God help you, monsieur, if you should ever have an Indian war.  It is bad for us, but it would be a thousand times worse for you.”

“And why?”

“Because we have fought the Indians from the first, and we have them always in our mind when we build.  You see how along this river every house and every hamlet supports its neighbour?  But you, by Saint Anne of Beaupre, it made my scalp tingle when I came on your frontiers and saw the lonely farm-houses and little clearings out in the woods with no help for twenty leagues around.  An Indian war is a purgatory for Canada, but it would be a hell for the English Provinces!”

“We are good friends with the Indians,” said Amos.  “We do not wish to conquer.”

“Your people have a way of conquering although they say that they do not wish to do it,” remarked Du Lhut.  “Now, with us, we bang our drums, and wave our flags, and make a stir, but no very big thing has come of it yet.  We have never had but two great men in Canada.  One was Monsieur de la Salle, who was shot last year by his own men down the great river, and the other, old Frontenac, will have to come back again if New France is not to be turned into a desert by the Five Nations.  It would surprise me little if by this time two years the white and gold flag flew only over the rock of Quebec.  But I see that you look at me impatiently, Monsieur de Catinat, and I know that you count the hours until we are back at Sainte Marie again.  Forward, then, and may the second part of our journey be as peaceful as the first.”

For an hour or more they picked their way through the woods, following in the steps of the old French pioneer.  It was a lovely day with hardly a cloud in the heavens, and the sun streaming down through the thick foliage covered the shaded sward with a delicate network of gold.  Sometimes where the woods opened they came out into the pure sunlight, but only to pass into thick glades beyond, where a single ray, here and there, was all that could break its way through the vast leafy covering.  It would have been beautiful, these sudden transitions from light to shade, but with the feeling of impending danger, and of a horror ever lurking in these shadows, the mind was tinged with awe rather than admiration.  Silently, lightly, the four men picked their steps among the great tree trunks.

Suddenly Du Lhut dropped upon his knees and stooped his ear to the ground.  He rose, shook his head, and walked on with a grave face, casting quick little glances into the shadows in every direction.