There was no dash made upon Fort Edward, as might well have been the case.  Satisfied with what he had accomplished, and under orders to permit the Canadian troops to return home in time to gather in the harvest, the Marquis de Montcalm withdrew his forces when his task was finished.  Possibly he felt that victory was too dearly purchased at the cost of such horrors as had followed the capture of Fort William Henry.

Pringle recovered from his wounds, which, though numerous, were none of them severe.  The spell of rest was welcome to all after the fatigues and privations of the siege.  Fritz was an expert huntsman, and kept their larder well stocked; and when they were ready to travel, he was able to lead them safely through the forest, towards the haunts where Rogers and his Rangers were likely to be met with.

It was upon a clear September afternoon that they first met white men, or indeed human beings of any kind; for they had sedulously avoided falling in with Indians, and the loneliness of the forest had become a little oppressive to Pringle and Roche, although they were eager to learn the arts of woodcraft, and were proving apt pupils.  They were both going to volunteer to join Rogers’ bold band of Rangers, for they had grown almost disheartened at the regular army service, where one blunder and disaster was invariably capped by another; and the life of the Rangers did at least give scope for personal daring and adventure, and might enable them to strike a blow now and again at the enemy who had wrought them such woe.

They heard themselves hailed one day out of the heart of the forest by a cheery English voice.

“What ho! who goes there?”

“Friend to Rogers and his Rangers!” called back Fritz, in the formula of the forest, and the next minute a bronzed and bright-faced, handsome man had sprung lightly out of the thicket, and stood before them.

He was a stranger to Fritz, but something in his dress and general aspect proclaimed him to be a Ranger, and he grasped Fritz by the hand warmly.

“You come in good time to give us news.  We have been far afield—­almost as far as Niagara itself.  We hear rumours of disaster and treachery; but hitherto we have had no certain tidings.  Is it true that Fort William Henry has fallen?”

The tale was told once again, other Rangers crowding round to hear.  Pringle was naturally the spokesman, and Fritz, singling out from the group a man whom he had known before, asked him who the gallant-looking stranger was who seemed like the leader of a band.

“That is Lord Howe,” was the answer.  “He came out from England to fight the French; but the expedition to Louisbourg came to nothing through delay and mismanagement.  He landed, and whilst waiting for further orders from home he has joined the Rangers, in order to learn their methods of fighting.  Never was hardier or braver man, or one more cheerful and blithe.  Even the stern Rogers himself unbends when he is near.  He has been the very life of our party since he has joined us.”