“I have always maintained,” the Abbe would say, “that in spite of all her blunders, which blunders and tardinesses are still continuing, there is a spirit in your English colonies which will one day rise triumphant, and make you a foe to be feared and dreaded.  You move with the times; we stand still.  You teach and learn independence and self government; we depend wholly upon a King who cares little for us and a country that is engrossed in other matters, and has little thought to spend upon our perils and our troubles.  You are growing, and, like a young horse or bullock, you do not know yet how to use your strength.  You are unbroken to yoke and halter; you waste your energy in plunging and butting when you should be utilizing it to some good end.  Yet mark my words, the day is coming when you will learn to answer to the rein; when you will use your strength reasonably and for a great end and then shall we have cause to tremble before you!”

Fritz listened and partly understood, and could admire the man who spoke so boldly even when he depreciated the power of his own people.  He grew to love and revere the Abbe not a little, and when the day came for them to say farewell, it was with real sorrow he spoke his adieu.

“You have been very good to us, my father,” he said.  “I hope the day may come when we may be able to show our gratitude.”

“Like enough it will, my son,” answered the Abbe gently; “I have little doubt that it will.  If not to me, yet to my children and countrymen.  For the moment the laurels of victory remain in our hands; but the tide may some day turn.  If so, then remember to be merciful and gentle to those who will be in your power.  I think that the English have ever shown themselves generous foes; I think they will continue to show themselves such in the hour of victory.”

It was with hearts much cheered and strengthened that the comrades went forth from Ticonderoga.  Colin and a few French soldiers accompanied them for some distance.

They did not propose to try to seek Rogers or his scattered Rangers; there was no knowing where they would now be found.  Fritz had decided to push back to Fort Edward, and so to Albany, the quaint Dutch settlement which had been the basis of recent operations, being the town nearest to the western frontier at this point.  There they would be certain to get news of what was going on in the country, and for a short time it would be pleasant to dwell amid the haunts of men, instead of in these remote fastnesses of the forest.

“I hope we shall meet again,” said Colin, as he held Fritz’s hand in a last clasp.  “I am not altogether French.  I find that I can love the English well.  Quebec will be my home before long.  Corinne is there already, and my uncle and I will return there shortly.  It is a fine city, such as you have hardly seen in your wanderings so far.  I would I could show it you.  Some say the English have an eye upon it, as the key to Canada.  In sooth I think they would find it a hard nut to crack.  We of the city call it impregnable.  But come you in peace there, and I will show it you with joy.”