“You’ve done so well with the fire, Tayoga, and you’ve shown such a spirit,” he said, “that it would be a pity to interfere with your activity.  Go ahead, and awake me again when breakfast is ready.”

Tayoga made a rush, seized the edge of his blanket and unrolled it, depositing Robert in the ashes.  Then he darted away among the bushes, avoiding the white youth’s pursuit.  Willet meanwhile warmed himself by the fire and laughed.

“Come back, you two,” he said.  “You think you’re little lads again at your school in Albany, but you’re not.  You’re here in the wilderness, confronted by many difficulties, all of which you can overcome, and subject to many perils, all of which you know how to avoid.”

“I’ll come,” said Robert, “if you promise to protect me from this fierce Onondaga chief who is trying to secure my scalp.”

“Tayoga, return to the fire and cook these strips of venison.  Here is the sharp stick left from last night.  Robert, take our canteens, find a spring and fill them with fresh water.  By right of seniority I’m in command this morning, and I intend to subject my army to extremely severe discipline, because it’s good for it.  Obey at once!”

Tayoga obediently took the sharpened stick and began to fry strips of venison.  Robert, the canteens over his shoulder, found a spring near by and refilled them.  Like Tayoga, the raw chill of the morning and the desolate forest of winter had no effect upon him.  He too, was happy, uplifted, and he sang to himself the song he had heard De Galissonniere sing: 

“Hier sur le pont d’Avignon
J’ai oui chanter la belle,
Lon, la,
J’ai oui chanter la belle,
Elle chantait d’un ton si doux
Comme une demoiselle,
Lon, la,
Comme une demoiselle.”

All that seemed far away now, yet the words of the song brought it back, and his extraordinary imagination made the scenes at Bigot’s ball pass before his eyes again, almost as vivid as reality.  Once more he saw the Intendant, his portly figure swaying in the dance, his red face beaming, and once more he beheld the fiery duel in the garden when the hunter dealt with Boucher, the bully and bravo.

Quebec was far away.  He had been glad to go to it, and he had been glad to come away, too.  He would be glad to go to it again, and he felt that he would do so some day, though the torrent of battle now rolled between.  He was still humming the air when he came back to the fire, and saluting Willet politely, tendered a canteen each to him and Tayoga.

“Sir David Willet, baronet and general,” he said, “I have the honor to report to you that in accordance with your command I have found the water, spring water, fine, fresh, pure, as good as any the northern wilderness can furnish, and that is the best in the world.  Shall I tender it to you, sir, on my bended knee!”

“No, Mr. Lennox, we can dispense with the bended knee, but I am glad, young sir, to note in your voice the tone of deep respect for your elders which sometimes and sadly is lacking.”