Robert spoke in good French and the partisan stared in astonishment.  Then a pleased look of recognition came into his eyes.

“Ah, it’s young Mr. Lennox,” he exclaimed.  “Young Mr. Lennox come back to us.  It’s not mere politeness that makes me tell you I’m glad to see you.  You did make a very clever escape with the aid of that Indian friend of yours.  I hope to capture Tayoga some day, and, if I do, it will be an achievement of which I shall boast all the rest of my life.  But we’ll take good care that you don’t leave us again.”

“He has just warned me that he intends to escape a second time,” said St. Luc.

“Then it will be a pretty test of mettle,” said the Owl, appreciation showing in his tone, “and we welcome it.  Have you any commands for me, sir?”

He spoke with great respect when he addressed the query to St. Luc, and the Chevalier replied that they would march in a half hour.  Then Langlade gave Robert food, and took a little himself, sitting with the prisoner and informing him that the Dove had worried greatly over his escape.  Although she was not to blame, she considered that in some indirect manner it was a reflection upon her vigilance, and it was many months before she was fully consoled.

“I must send word to her by one of our runners that you have been retaken,” said the Owl, “and I wish to tell you, Mr. Lennox, that the Dove’s younger sister, who is so much like her in looks and character, is still unmarried and perhaps it may come into the mind of the Chevalier de St. Luc or the Marquis de Montcalm to send you back to our village.”

“You’re once more most polite,” laughed Robert, “but I’m far too young, yet, to think of marriage.”

“It’s not an offer that I’d make to many young men,” said Langlade regretfully.  “In truth, I know of none other to whom I’d have mentioned it.”

When they took up the march the force numbered about fifty men, and Robert walked between Langlade and a stalwart Indian.  St. Luc was further on.  They did not seem to fear any ambush and Langlade chattered after his fashion.  He made the most of the French resources.  He spoke as if the Marquis de Montcalm had ten or fifteen thousand veteran French regulars, and half as many Indian warriors.

“Don’t consider me contentious, Monsieur Langlade,” said Robert, at last, “but I know full well that your general has not half that many troops, no, not a third, and that nearly all his Indians are about to leave him.”

“And how do you know that?” exclaimed the Owl.  “Well, one Frenchman equals two of the English or the Bostonnais, and that doubles our numbers.  You don’t see any chance to escape, do you?”

“Not at present,” laughed Robert.

“Not now, nor at any other time.  No man ever escapes twice from the French.”