“French officers are in it,” said Tayoga.

“I believe you are right, boy.  I think I caught the glitter of a uniform.”

“And the boat has steered about and is coming this way, Great Bear.  The French officers no doubt have the glasses that magnify, and, having seen us, are coming to discover what we are.”

“Correct again, Tayoga.  They’ve turned their prow toward us, and, as we don’t want to have even the appearance of hiding, I think we’d better paddle out of the bushes and make way slowly again close to the shore.”

A few sweeps of the paddle and the canoe was proceeding once more down the St. Lawrence, keeping in comparatively quiet waters near the southern side.  The large boat was approaching them fast, but they pretended not to have seen it.

“Probably it comes from Hochelaga,” said Tayoga.

“And your Hochelaga, which is the French Montreal, was Iroquois once, also,” said Robert.

“Our fathers and grandfathers are not sure,” replied Tayoga.  “Cartier found there a great village surrounded by a palisade, and many of our people think that a nation of the Hodenosaunee, perhaps the Mohawks, lived in it, but other of our old men say it was a Huron town.  It is certain though that the Hodenosaunee lived at Stadacona.”

“In any event, most of this country was yours or races kindred to yours owned it.  So, Tayoga, you are traveling on lands and waters that once belonged to your people.  But we’re right in believing that boat has come to spy us out.  I can see an officer standing up and watching us with glasses.”

“Let ’em come,” said Willet.  “There’s no war—­at least, not yet—­and there’s plenty of water in the St. Lawrence for all the canoes, boats and ships that England and France have.”

“If they hail us,” said Robert, “and demand, as they probably will, what we’re about, I shall tell them that we’re going to the Marquis Duquesne at Quebec and show our credentials.”

The large boat rapidly came nearer, and as men on board furled the sail others at the oars drew it alongside the little canoe, which seemed a mere cork on the waves of the mighty St. Lawrence.  But Robert, Tayoga and Willet paddled calmly on, as if boats, barges and ships were everyday matters to them, and were not to be noticed unduly.  A tall young man standing up in the boat hailed them in French and then in English.  Robert, watching out of the corner of his eye, saw that he was fair, like so many of the northern French, that he was dressed in a uniform of white with violet facings, and that his hat was black and three-cornered.  He learned afterward that it was the uniform of a battalion of Languedoc.  He saw also that the boat carried sixteen men, all except the oarsmen being in uniform.

“Who are you?” demanded the officer imperiously.

Robert, to whom the others conceded the position of spokesman, had decided already that his course should be one of apparent indifference.