Robert turned his back on him and walked to the other side of the enclosure.  When he turned around, five minutes later, Garay was gone.  But Robert felt uncomfortable.  Here was a man who did not have the gallantry and chivalry that marked so many of the French.  If he could he would strike some great blow.

He strove to dismiss Garay from his mind, and, in his interest in what was going on about him, he finally succeeded.  He saw Frenchmen and Canadians leaving the camp and others returning.  His knowledge of war made him believe that those coming had been messengers sent forth to watch the Anglo-American army, and those going were dispatched on the same service.  Their alarm must be great, he reflected pleasantly, and none could bring to Montcalm any reassuring news.  Once he saw Montcalm, and once St. Luc, but neither spoke to him.

He and his comrades, the other prisoners, slept that night in the open, the weather being warm.  A blanket was allotted to every one by their captors, and Robert, long used to unlimited fresh air, preferred the outside to the inside of a tent.  Nothing disturbed his slumbers, but he expected that the French retreat would begin the next day.  On the contrary, Montcalm stayed in his camp, nor was there any sign of withdrawal on the second and third days, or on others that came.  He inferred then that the advance of Abercrombie had been delayed, and the French were merely hanging on until their retreat became compulsory.

He had been in the camp about a week, and as he saw no more of Garay he concluded that the man had been sent away on some errand.  It was highly probable that he was now in the south spying upon the Anglo-American army.  It was for just such duties that he was fitted.  Then he began to think of him less and less.

His old impatience and keen disappointment because he was a prisoner when such great days were coming, returned with doubled vigor.  He chafed greatly and looked around again for an opportunity to escape, but did not see the remotest possibility of it.  After all, he must reconcile himself.  His situation could be far worse.  He was well treated, and some of the French leaders, while official enemies, were personal friends.

His mind also dwelled upon the singular fact that the French army did not retreat.  He tried to glean something from De Galissonniere, who talked with him several times, but the young captain would not depart from generalities.  He invariably shut up, tight, when they approached any detail of the present military situation.

A dark night came with much wind and threat of rain.  Robert thought that he and his fellow captives would have to ask the shelter of tents, but the rain passed farther to the west, though the heavy darkness remained.  He was glad, as the weather was now oppressively warm, and he greatly preferred to sleep on a blanket in the open air.