“Not at all, Monsieur, but as you see, we have survived everything and have taken no hurt.  Quebec also, a great and splendid city, was not without stirring event, not to say danger.”

“But not to heralds, for such I take you and Mr. Willet and Tayoga to have been.”

“A certain Pierre Boucher, a great duelist, and if you will pardon me for saying it, a ruthless bravo, also was disposed to make trouble for us.”

“I know Boucher.  He is what you say.  But since you are here safe and unhurt, as you have just reminded me, you escaped all the snares he set for you.”

“True, Monsieur de St. Luc, but we have the word that the fowler may fall into his own snare.”

“Your meaning escapes me.”

“Boucher, the duelist and bravo, will never make trouble for anybody else.”

“You imply that he is dead?  Boucher dead!  How did he die?”

“A man may be a great swordsman, and he may defeat many others, but the time usually comes when he will meet a better swordsman than himself.”

“Yourself!  Why, you’re but a lad, Mr. Lennox, and skillful as you may be you’re not seasoned enough to beat such a veteran as Boucher!”

“That is true, but there is another who was.”

He nodded toward the hunter and the chevalier’s eyes opened wide.

“And you, a hunter,” he said, “could defeat Pierre Boucher, who has been accounted the master swordsman!  There is more in this than meets the eye!”

He stared at Willet, who met his gaze firmly.  Then he shrugged his shoulders and said: 

“I’m not one to pry into the secrets of another, but I did not think there was any man in America who was a match for Boucher.  Well, he is gone to another world, and let us hope that he will be a better man in it than he was in this.  Meanwhile we’ll return to the business that brings us all here.  I speak of it freely, since every one of us knows it well.  I wish to bring in the Hodenosaunee on the side of France.  The interests of these red nations truly lie with His Majesty King Louis, since you British colonists will spread over their lands and will drive them out.”

“Your pardon, Chevalier de St. Luc, but it is not so.  The English have always been the good friends of the Six Nations, and have never broken treaties with them.”

“No offense was meant, Mr. Lennox.  But we do not wish to waste our energies here debating with each other.  We will save our skill and strength for the council of the fifty, where I know you will present the cause of the British king in such manner that its slender justification will seem better than it really is.”

Robert laughed.

“A stab and praise at the same time,” he said.  “No, Monsieur de St. Luc, I have no wish to quarrel with you now or at any other time.”

“And while we’re in the vale of Onondaga we’ll be friends.”

“If you wish it to be so.”