occasionally, but he too had plenty of thoughts of his own, while Tayoga, saying nothing, gazed at the high green southern shore.  This, so the old men said, had once been the land of the Mohawks, one of the great nations of the Hodenosaunee, and now the children of Onontio, who had come with firearms against bows and arrows, spoke of it as theirs since Manitou first made the land rise from the deep.  Tayoga was silent but he had many thoughts, and they were thoughts that came to him often and stayed long.

“De Courcelles and Jumonville, whom you met in the forest,” said de Galisonniere, at length, “arrived in Montreal early last night, and after a stay of only two or three hours sailed in a schooner for Quebec.”

“Did you see them at all while they were in Montreal?” asked Robert, who seemed to detect significance in the young Frenchman’s tone.

“Only for a few moments,” replied de Galisonniere, and Robert, judging that he wished to avoid more talk on the subject, made no further reference to de Courcelles.  But the knowledge that he had gone on ahead to Quebec troubled him.  De Courcelles was not so young and frank as de Galisonniere, nor did he seem to have the fine soul and chivalric spirit of St. Luc.  Robert felt the three had cause to fear him.

But the journey down the St. Lawrence continued without serious delay, although the wind failed now and then and they took to the oars.  It was a voyage full of variety and interest to Robert.  He slept that night with his comrades on the deck of the Frontenac, and the next morning he found a strong wind again blowing.

In time they approached Quebec, and saw the increasing signs of population that betokened proximity to what was then in the eyes of North Americans a great capital.  On either shore they saw the manor houses of the seigneurs, solid stone structures, low, steep of roof and gabled, with clustering outhouses, and often a stone mill near by.  The churches also increased in numbers, and at one point the Frontenac stopped and took on a priest, a tall strongly built man of middle years, with a firm face.  De Galisonniere introduced him as Father Philibert Drouillard, and Robert felt his penetrating gaze upon his face.  Then it shifted to Willet and Tayoga, resting long upon the Onondaga.

Robert, knowing the great power of the church in Canada, was curious about Father Drouillard, whom he knew at once to be no ordinary man.  His lean ascetic face seemed to show the spirit that had marked Jogues and Goupil and those other early priests whom no danger nor Indian torture could daunt.  But he was too polite to ask questions, feeling that time would bring him all the information he wanted, in which he was right, as de Galisonniere said later in the day when Father Drouillard was sitting in the little cabin out of hearing: