“Will Lennox kill him?” asked Tayoga.

“I hadn’t thought much about it, Tayoga, but he won’t kill him.  Robert isn’t sanguinary.  He doesn’t want anybody’s blood on his hands, and it wouldn’t help our mission to take a life in Quebec.”

“The man de Mezy does not deserve to live.”

Willet laughed.

“That’s so, Tayoga,” he said, “but it’s no part of our business to go around taking the lives away from all those who don’t make good use of ’em.  Why, if we undertook such a job we’d have to work hard for the next thousand years.  I think we’d better fall on, ourselves, and snatch about eight good hours of slumber.”

In a few minutes three instead of one slept, and when the first ray of sunlight entered the room in the morning Tayoga awoke.  He opened the window, letting the fresh air pour in, and he raised his nostrils to it like a hound that has caught the scent.  It brought to him the aromatic odors of his beloved wilderness, and, for a time, he was back in the great land of the Hodenosaunee among the blue lakes and the silver streams.  He had been educated in the white man’s schools, and his friendship for Robert and Willet was strong and enduring, but his heart was in the forest.  Enlightened and humane, he had nevertheless asked seriously the night before the question:  “Will Lennox kill him?” He had discovered something fetid in Quebec and to him de Mezy was a noxious animal that should be destroyed.  He wished, for an instant, that he knew the sword and that he was going to stand in Lennox’s place.

Then he woke Robert and Willet, and they dressed quickly, but by the time they had finished Monsieur Berryer knocked on the door and told them breakfast was ready.  The innkeeper’s manner was flurried.  He was one of the honnetes gens who liked peace and an upright life.  He too wished the insolent pride of de Mezy to be humbled, but he had scarcely come to the point where he wanted to see a Bostonnais do it.  Nor did he believe that it could be done.  De Mezy was a good swordsman, and his friends would see that he was in proper condition.  Weighing the matter well, Monsieur Berryer was, on the whole, sorry for the young stranger.

But Robert himself showed no apprehensions.  He ate his excellent breakfast with an equally excellent appetite, and Monsieur Berryer noticed that his hand did not tremble.  He observed, too, that he had spirit enough to talk and laugh with his friends, and when Captain de Galisonniere and another young Frenchman, Lieutenant Armand Glandelet, arrived, he welcomed them warmly.

The captain carried under his arm a long thin case, in which Monsieur Berryer knew that the swords lay.  Lieutenant Armand Glandelet was presented duly and Robert liked his appearance, his age apparently twenty-three or four, his complexion fair and his figure slender.  His experience in affairs of honor was not as great as de Galisonniere’s, and he showed some excitement, but he was one of the honnetes gens and he too wished, the punishment of de Mezy.  Perhaps he had suffered from him some insult or snub which he was not in a position to resent fully.