Robert believed much meaning underlay the man’s words, and he made rapid surmises.  Was de Courcelles trying to draw him out?  Did he know of the attack made upon them at the hollow beside the river?  Did he seek to forestall by saying the English were corrupting the Indians and sending them forth with the tomahawk?  All these questions passed swiftly in his mind, but the gift discovered so newly came to his aid.  His face expressed nothing, and smiling a little, he replied: 

“The tongue of scandal, sir, does indeed wag wildly.  The Governor of New York seeks at all times to keep peace among the Indians, and the fact that I am bearing letters from him to the Marquis Duquesne is proof of his good intentions.”

“I accept your professions,” said de Courcelles, “as I trust you will accept my own assurances of amity and good faith.  Why should we discuss politics, when we are well met here in the woods?  We have a fairly good camp, and it’s at your service.  If I may judge by appearances your journey has been attended by some hardships.”

“You infer correctly,” replied Robert, “and we shall be glad indeed to share your fire and food with you.”

De Courcelles and Jumonville led the way to a large camp fire around which at least fifty French, Canadians and Indians were seated.  All the French and Canadians were in uniform, and the Canadians, although living in a colder climate, had become much darker than the parent stock.  In truth, many of them were quite as dark as the Indians.

These Canadians of the French stock were, for the present, silent men, and Robert regarded them with the deepest interest.  Those who were not in uniform wore long frock coats of dark gray or dark brown, belted at the waist with a woolen sash of bright colors, decorated heavily with beads.  Trousers and waistcoats were of the same material as the coats, but their feet were inclosed in Indian moccasins, also adorned profusely with beads.  They wore long hair in a queue, incased in an eel-skin, and with their swarthy complexions and high cheek bones they looked like wild sons of the forest to Robert.  Tayoga, the Onondaga, was to him a more civilized being.  All the Canadians were smoking short pipes, and, while they did not speak, their black eyes, restless with eager curiosity, inspected the strangers.

The Indians in de Courcelles’ party were of two types, the converted Indians of Canada, partly in white man’s costume, and utterly savage Indians of the far west, in very little costume at all, one or two of them wearing only the breech cloth.  The looks they bestowed upon Robert and his comrades were far from friendly, and he wondered if any Ojibway, a warrior who perhaps owned Tandakora as a chief, was among them.  They were sitting about the fire and none of them spoke.

“We cannot offer you a banquet,” said de Courcelles, “but we can give you variety, none the less.  This portion of His Majesty’s territory is a wilderness, but it provides an abundance of fish and game.”