Chapter 14. Before Quebec

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_ CHAPTER XIV. BEFORE QUEBEC

True to the predictions of Tayoga, they struck the trail of St. Luc and Tandakora far up in the province of New York and west of Lake Champlain. Ever since the white man came, hostile forces had been going north or south along well-defined passes in these regions, and, doubtless, bands of Indians had been traveling the same course from time immemorial; so it was not hard for them to come upon the traces of French and Indians going to Quebec to make the great stand against Wolfe and his fleet.

"It is a broad trail because many Frenchmen and Indians make it," said the Onondaga. "As I have said, Sharp Sword and Tandakora do not like each other, but circumstances make them allies. They have rejoined and they go together to Quebec. Here is the trail of at least three hundred men, perhaps two hundred Frenchmen and a hundred warriors. The footsteps of Sharp Sword are unmistakable, and so are those of Tandakora. Behold their great size, Dagaeoga; and here are the prints of boots which belong to De Courcelles and Jumonville. I have seen them often before, Dagaeoga. How could you believe they might have been left by somebody else?"

"I see nothing but some faint traces in the earth," said Robert. "If you didn't tell me, I wouldn't be even sure that they were made by a man."

"But they are plain to us who were born in the woods, and whose ancestors have lived in the woods since the beginning of the world. It is where we are superior to the white man, much as the white man thinks of his wisdom, though there be those, like the Great Bear, the Mountain Wolf and Black Rifle, who know much. But the feet of the two Frenchmen who love not Dagaeoga have passed here."

"It is true they do not love me, Tayoga. I wounded one of them last year, shortly before Ticonderoga, as you know, and I fancy that I'd receive short shrift from either if I fell into his hands."

"That is so. But Dagaeoga will not let himself be captured again. He has been captured often enough now."

"I don't seem to be any the worse for it," said Robert, laughing. "You're right, though, Tayoga. For me to be captured once more would be once too much. As St. Luc doesn't like Tandakora, I imagine you don't see him walking with them."

"I do not, Dagaeoga. Sharp Sword keeps by himself, and now De Courcelles and Jumonville walk with the Ojibway chief. Here are their three trails, that of Tandakora between the other two. Doubtless the two Frenchmen are trying to make him their friend, and it is equally sure that they speak ill to him of St. Luc. But Sharp Sword does not care. He expects little from Tandakora and his warriors. He is thinking of Quebec and the great fight that Montcalm must make there against Wolfe. He is eager to arrive at Stadacona, which you call Quebec, and help Montcalm. He knows that it is all over here on Andiatarocte and Oneadatote, that Ticonderoga is lost forever, that Crown Point is lost forever, and that Isle-aux-Noix must go in time, but he hopes for Stadacona. Yet Sharp Sword is depressed. He does not walk with his usual spring and courage. His paces are shorter, and they are shorter because his footsteps drag. Truly, it was a dagger in the heart of Sharp Sword to give up Ticonderoga and Crown Point."

"I can believe you, Tayoga," said Willet. "It's bitter to lose such lakes and such a land, and the French have fought well for them. Do you think there's any danger of our running into an ambush? It would be like Tandakora to lie in wait for pursuers."

"I am not sure, Great Bear. He, like the Frenchman, is in a great hurry to reach Stadacona."

An hour or two later they came to a dead campfire of St. Luc's force, and, a little farther on, a new trail, coming from the west, joined the Chevalier's. They surmised that it had been made by a band from Niagara or some other fallen French fort in that direction, and that everywhere along the border Montcalm was drawing in his lines that he might concentrate his full strength at Quebec to meet the daring challenge of Wolfe.

"But I take it that the drawing in of the French won't keep down scalping parties of the warriors," said Willet. "If they can find anything on the border to raid, they'll raid it."

"It is so," said Tayoga. "It may be that Tandakora and his warriors will turn aside soon to see if they cannot ambush somebody."

"In that case it will be wise for us to watch out for ourselves. You think Tandakora may leave St. Luc and lie in wait, perhaps, for us?"

"For any one who may come. He does not yet know that it is the Great Bear, Dagaeoga and I who follow. Suppose we go on a while longer and see if he leaves the main trail. Is it the wish of Great Bear and Dagaeoga?"

"It is," they replied together.

They advanced several hours, and then the great trail split, or rather it threw off a stem that curved to the west.

"It is made by about twenty warriors," said Tayoga, "and here are the huge footsteps of Tandakora in the very center of it. I think they will go northwest a while, and then come back toward the main trail, hoping to trap any one who may be rash enough to follow Sharp Sword. But, if the Great Bear and Dagaeoga wish it, we will pursue Tandakora himself and ambush him when he is expecting to ambush others."

The dark eyes of the Onondaga gleamed.

"I can see, Tayoga, that you're hoping for a chance to settle that score between you and the Ojibway," said the hunter. "Maybe you'll get it this time, and maybe you won't, but I'm willing to take the trail after him, and so is Robert here. We may stop a lot of mischief."

It was then about two o'clock in the afternoon, and, as Tayoga said that Tandakora's trail was not more than a few hours old, they pushed on rapidly, hoping to stalk his camp that very night. The traces soon curved back toward St. Luc's and they knew they were right in their surmise that an ambush was being laid by the Ojibway. He and his warriors would halt in the dense bush beside the great trail and shoot down any who followed.

"We'll shatter his innocent little plan," said Willet, his spirits mounting at the prospect.

"Tandakora will not build a fire to-night," said Tayoga. "He will wait in the darkness beside Sharp Sword's path, hoping that some one will come. He will lie in the forest like a panther waiting to spring on its prey."

"And we'll just disturb that panther a little," said Robert, appreciating the merit of their enterprise, which now seemed to all three a kind of great game.

"Aye, we'll make Tandakora think all the spirits of earth and air are after him," said Willet.

They now moved with great caution as the trail was growing quite fresh.

"We will soon be back to Sharp Sword's line of march," said Tayoga, "and I think we will find Tandakora and his warriors lying in the bushes not more than a mile ahead."

They redoubled their caution, and, when they approached a dense thicket, Robert and Willet lay down and Tayoga went on, creeping on hands and knees. In a half hour he came back and said that Tandakora and his band were in the thicket watching the great trail left by St. Luc.

"The Ojibway does not dream that he himself is being watched," said the Onondaga, "and now I think we would better eat a little food from our knapsacks and wait until the dark night that is promised has fully come."

Tayoga's report was wholly true. Tandakora and twenty fierce warriors lay in the thicket, waiting to fall upon those who might follow the trail of St. Luc. He had no doubt that a force of some kind would come. The Bostonnais and the English always followed a retreating enemy, and experience never kept them from walking into an ambush. Tandakora was already counting the scalps he would take, and his savage heart was filled with delight. He had been aghast when Bourlamaque abandoned Ticonderoga and Crown Point. Throughout the region over which he had been roaming for three or four years the Bostonnais would be triumphant. Andiatarocte and Oneadatote would pass into their possession forever. The Ojibway chief belonged far to the westward, to the west of the Great Lakes, but the great war had called him, like so many others of the savage tribes, into the east, and he had been there so long that he had grown to look upon the country as his own, or at least held by him and his like in partnership with the French, a belief confirmed by the great victories at Duquesne and Oswego, William Henry and Ticonderoga.

Now Tandakora's whole world was overthrown. The French were withdrawing into Canada. St. Luc, whom he did not like, but whom he knew to be a great warrior, was retreating in haste, and the invincible Montcalm was beleaguered in Quebec. He would have to go too, but he meant to take scalps with him. Bostonnais were sure to appear on the trail, and they would come in the night, pursuing St. Luc. It was a good night for such work as his, heavy with clouds and very dark. He would creep close and strike before his presence was even suspected.

Tandakora lay quiet with his warriors, while night came and its darkness grew, and he listened for the sound of men on the trail. Instead he heard the weird, desolate cry of an owl to his left, and then the equally lone and desolate cry of another to his right. But the warriors still lay quiet. They had heard owls often and were not afraid of them. Then the cry came from the north, and now it was repeated from the south. There was a surfeit of owls, very much too many of them, and they called to one another too much. Tandakora did not like it. It was almost like a visitation of evil spirits. Those weird, long-drawn cries, singularly piercing on a still night, were bad omens. Some of his warriors stirred and became uneasy, but Tandakora quieted them sternly and promised that the Bostonnais would soon be along. Hope aroused again, the men plucked up courage and resumed their patient waiting.

Then the cry of the panther, long drawn, wailing like the shriek of a woman, came from the east and the west, and presently from the north and the south also, followed soon by the dreadful hooting of the owls, and then by the fierce growls of the bear. Tandakora, in spite of himself, in spite of his undoubted courage, in spite of his vast experience in the forest, shuddered. The darkness was certainly full of wicked spirits, and they were seeking prey. So many owls and bears and panthers could not be abroad at once in a circle about him. But Tandakora shook himself and resolved to stand fast. He encouraged his warriors, who were already showing signs of fright, and refused to let any one go.

But the forest chorus grew. Tandakora heard the gobble of the wild turkey as he used to hear it in his native west, only he was sure that the gobble now was made by a spirit and not by a real turkey. Then the owl hooted, the panther shrieked and the bear growled. The cry of a moose, not any moose at all, as Tandakora well knew, but the foul emanation of a wicked spirit, came, merely to be succeeded by the weird cries of night birds which the Ojibway chief had never seen, and of which he had never dreamed. He knew, though, that they must be hideous, misshapen creatures. But he still stood fast, although all of his warriors were eager to go, and the demon chorus came nearer and nearer, multiplying its cries, and adding to the strange notes of birds the equally strange notes of animals, worse even than the growl of bear or shriek of panther.

Tandakora knew now that the wicked spirits of earth and air were abroad in greater numbers than he had ever known before. They fairly swarmed all about him and his warriors, continually coming closer and closer and making dire threats. The night was particularly suited to them. The heavy black clouds floating before the moon and stars were met by thick mists and vapors that fairly oozed out of the damp earth. It was an evil night, full of spells and magic, and the moment came when the chief wished he was in his own hunting grounds far to the west by the greatest of the Great Lakes.

The darkness was not too great for him to see several of his warriors trembling and he rebuked them fiercely, though his own nerves, tough as they were, were becoming frayed and uneasy. He forgot to watch the trail and listen for the sound of footsteps. All his attention was centered upon that horrible and circling chorus of sound. The Bostonnais might come and pass and he would not see them. He went into the forest a little way, trying to persuade himself that they were really persecuted by animals. He would find one of these annoying panthers or bears and shoot it, or he would not even hesitate to send a bullet through an owl on a bough, but he saw nothing, and, as he went back to his warriors, a hideous snapping and barking of wolves followed him.

The note of the wolf had not been present hitherto in the demon chorus, but now it predominated. What it lacked in the earliness of coming it made up in the vigor of arrival. It had in it all the human qualities, that is, the wicked or menacing ones--hunger, derision, revenge, desire for blood and threat of death. Tandakora, veteran of a hundred battles, one of the fiercest warriors that ever ranged the woods, shook. His blood turned to water, ice water at that, and the bones of his gigantic frame seemed to crumble. He knew, as all the Indians knew, that the souls of dead warriors, usually those who had been wicked in life, dwelled for a while in the bodies of animals, preferably those of wolves, and the wolves about him were certainly inhabited by the worst warriors that had ever lived. In every growl and snap and bark there was a threat. He could hear it, and he knew it was meant for him. But what he feared most of all was the deadly whine with which growl, snap and bark alike ended. Perspiration stood out on his face, but he could not afford to show fear to his men, and, retreating slowly, he rejoined them. He would make no more explorations in the haunted wood that lay all about them.

As the chief went back to his men the snarling and snapping of the demon wolves distinctly expressed laughter, derision of the most sinister kind. They were not only threatening him, they were laughing at him, and his bones continued to crumble through sheer weakness and fear. It was not worth while for him to fire at any of the sounds. The bullet might go through a wolf, but it would not hurt him, it would merely increase his ferocity and make him all the more hungry for the blood of Tandakora.

The band pressed close together as the wolves growled and snapped all about them, but the warriors still saw nothing. How could they see anything when such wolves had the power of making themselves invisible? But their claws would tear and their teeth would rend just the same when they sprang upon their victims, and now they were coming so close that they might make a spring, the prodigious kind of spring that a demon wolf could make.

It was more than Tandakora and his warriors could stand. Human beings, white or red, they would fight, but not the wicked and powerful spirits of earth and air which were now closing down upon them. The chief could resist no longer. He uttered a great howl of fear, which was taken up and repeated in a huge chorus by his warriors. Then, and by the same impulse, they burst from the thicket, rushed into St. Luc's trail and sped northward at an amazing pace.

Tayoga, Willet and Robert emerged from the woods, lay down in the trail and panted for breath.

"Well, that's the easiest victory we ever gained," said Robert. "Even easier than one somewhat like it that I won on the island."

"I don't know about that," gasped Willet. "It's hard work being an owl and a bear and a panther and a wolf and trying, too, to be in three or four places at the same time. I worked hardest as a wolf toward the last; every muscle in me is tired, and I think my throat is the most tired of all. I must lie by for a day."

"Great Bear is a splendid animal," said Tayoga in his precise, book English, "nor is he wanting as a bird, either. I think he turned himself into birds that were never seen in this world, and they were very dreadful birds, too. But he excelled most as a wolf. His growling and snapping and whining were better than that of ninety-nine out of a hundred wolves, only a master wolf could have equaled it, and when I stood beside him I was often in fear lest he turn and tear me to pieces with tooth and claw."

"Tandakora was in mortal terror," said Robert, who was not as tired as the others, who had done most of the work in the demon chorus. "I caught a glimpse of his big back, and I don't think I ever saw anybody run faster. He'll not stop this side of the St. Lawrence, and you'll have to postpone your vengeance a while, Tayoga."

"I could have shot him down as he stood in the woods, shaking with fear," said the Onondaga, "but that never would have done. That would have spoiled our plan, and I must wait, as you say, Dagaeoga, to settle the score with the Ojibway."

"I think we'd better go into the bushes and sleep," said the hunter. "Being a demon is hard work, and there is no further danger from the warriors."

But Robert, who was comparatively fresh, insisted on keeping the watch, and the other two, lying down on their blankets, were soon in deep slumber. The next day they shot a young bear, and had a feast in the woods, a reward to which they thought themselves entitled after the great and inspired effort they had made the night before. As they sat around their cooking fire, eating the juicy steaks, they planned how they should enter Canada and join Wolfe, still keeping their independence as scouts and skirmishers.

"Most of the country around the city is held by the English, or at least they overrun it from time to time," said Willet, "and we ought to get past the French villages in a single night. Then we can join whatever part of the force we wish. I think it likely that we can be of most use with the New England rangers, who are doing a lot of the scouting and skirmishing for Wolfe."

"But I want to see the Royal Americans first," said Robert. "I heard in Boston that Colden, Wilton, Carson, Stuart and Cabell had gone on with them, and I know that Grosvenor is there with his regiment. I should like to see them all again."

"And so would I," said the hunter. "A lot of fine lads. I hope that all of them will come through the campaign alive."

They traveled the whole of the following night and remained in the forest through the day, and following this plan they arrived before Quebec without adventure, finding the army of Wolfe posted along the St. Lawrence, his fleet commanding the river, but the army of Montcalm holding Quebec and all the French elated over the victory of the Montmorency River. Robert went at once to the camp of the Royal Americans, where Colden was the first of his friends whom he saw. The Philadelphian, like all the others, was astounded and delighted.

"Lennox!" he exclaimed, grasping his hand. "I heard that you were dead, killed by a spy named Garay, and your body thrown into the Hudson, where it was lost! Now, I know that reports are generally lies! And you're no ghost. 'Tis a solid hand that I hold in mine!"

"I'm no ghost, though I did vanish from the world for a while," said Robert. "But, as you see, I've come back and I mean to have a part in the taking of Quebec."

Wilton and Carson, Stuart and Cabell soon came, and then Grosvenor, and every one in his turn welcomed Robert back from the dead, after which he gave to them collectively a rapid outline of his story.

"'Tis a strange tale, a romance," said Grosvenor. "It's evident that it's not intended you shall lose your life in this war, Lennox. What has become of that wonderful Onondaga Indian, Tayoga, and the great hunter, Willet?"

"They're both here. You shall see them before the day is over. But what is the feeling in the army?"

"We're depressed and the French are elated. It's because we lost the Montmorency battle. The Royal Americans and the Grenadiers were too impulsive. We tried to rush slopes damp and slippery from rain, and we were cut up. I received a wound there, and so did Wilton, but neither amounts to anything, and I want to tell you, Lennox, that, although we're depressed, we're not withdrawing. Our general is sick a good deal, but the sicker he grows the braver he grows. We hang on. The French say we can continue hanging on, and then the winter will drive us away. You know what the Quebec winter is. But we'll see. Maybe something will happen before winter comes."

As Robert turned away from the little group he came face to face with a tall young officer dressed with scrupulousness and very careful of his dignity.

"Charteris!"[A] he exclaimed.

"Lennox!"

They shook hands with the greatest surprise and pleasure.

"When I last saw you at Ticonderoga you were a prisoner of the French," said Robert.

"And so were you."

"But I escaped in a day or two."

"I escaped also, though not in a day or two. I was held a prisoner in Quebec all through the winter and spring and much befell me, but at last I escaped to General Wolfe and rejoined my old command, the Royal Americans."

"And he took part in the battle of Montmorency, a brave part too," said Colden.

"No braver than the others. No more than you yourself, Colden," protested Charteris.

"And 'tis said that, though he left Quebec in the night, he left his heart there in the possession of a very lovely lady who speaks French better than she speaks English," said Colden.

"'Tis not a subject of which you have definite information," rejoined Charteris, flushing very red and then laughing.

But Colden, suspecting that his jest was truth rather, had too much delicacy to pursue the subject. Later in the day Robert returned with Willet and Tayoga and they had a reunion.

"When we take Quebec," said Tayoga to Grosvenor, "Red Coat must go back with us into the wilderness and learn to become a great warrior. We can go beyond the Great Lakes and stay two or three years."

"I wish I could," laughed Grosvenor, "but that is one of the things I must deny myself. If the war should be finished, I shall have to return to England."

"St. Luc is in Quebec," said Willet. "We followed his trail a long distance."

"Which means that our task here will be the harder," said Colden.

Robert went with Willet, Charteris and Tayoga the next day to Monckton's camp at Point Levis, whence the English batteries had poured destruction upon the lower town of Quebec, firing across the St. Lawrence, that most magnificent of all rivers, where its channel was narrow. He could see the houses lying in ashes or ruins, but above them the French flag floated defiantly over the upper city.

"Montcalm and his lieutenants made great preparations to receive General Wolfe," said Charteris. "As I was in Quebec then, I know something about them, and I've learned more since I escaped. They threw up earthworks, bastions and redoubts almost all the way from Quebec to Montcalm's camp at Beauport. Over there at Beauport the Marquis' first headquarters were located in a big stone house. Across the mouth of the St. Charles they put a great boom of logs, fastened together by chains, and strengthened further by two cut-down ships on which they mounted batteries. Forces passing between the city and the Beauport camp crossed the St. Charles on a bridge of boats, and each entrance of the bridge was guarded by earthworks. In the city they closed and fortified every gate, except the Palace Gate, through which they passed to the bridge or from it. They had more than a hundred cannon on the walls, a floating battery carried twelve more guns, and big ones too, and they had a lot of gun-boats and fire ships and fire rafts. They gathered about fifteen thousand men in the Beauport camp, besides Indians, with the regulars in the center, and the militia on the flank. In addition to these there were a couple of thousand in the city itself under De Ramesay, and I think Montcalm had, all told, near to twenty thousand men, about double our force, though 'tis true many of theirs are militia and we have a powerful fleet. I suppose their numbers have not decreased, and it's a great task we've undertaken, though I think we'll achieve it."

Robert looked again and with great emotion upon Quebec, that heart and soul of the French power in North America. Truly much water had flowed down the St. Lawrence since he was there before. He could not forget the thrill with which he had first approached it, nor could he forget those gallant young Frenchmen who had given him a welcome, although he was already, in effect, an official enemy. And then, too, he had seen Bigot, Pean, Cadet and their corrupt group who were doing so much to wreck the fortunes of New France. Not all the valor of Montcalm, De Levis, Bourlamaque, St. Luc and the others could stay the work of their destructive hands.

The mills of God grind slowly, but they grind exceeding small. It was true! The years had passed. The French victories in North America had been numerous. Again and again they had hurled back the English and Americans, and year after year they had dammed the flood. They had struck terrible blows at Duquesne and Oswego, at William Henry and at Ticonderoga. But the mills of God ground on, and here at last was the might of Britain before Quebec, and Robert's heart, loyal as he was to the mother country, always throbbed with pride when he recalled that his own Americans were there too, the New England rangers and the staunch regiment of Royal Americans, the bravest of the brave, who had already given so much of their blood at Montmorency. In these world-shaking events the Americans played their splendid part beside their English kin, as they were destined to do one hundred and fifty-nine years later upon the soil of Europe itself, closing up forever, as most of us hope, the cleavage between nations of the same language and same ideals.

Robert looked long at Quebec on its heights, gleaming now in the sun which turned it into a magic city, increasing its size, heightening the splendor of the buildings and heightening, too, the formidable obstacles over which Wolfe must prevail. Nature here had done wonders for the defense. With its mighty river and mighty cliffs it seemed that a capable general and a capable army could hold the city forever.

"Aye, it's strong, Lennox," said Charteris, who read his thoughts. "General Wolfe, as I know, has written back to England that it's the strongest place in the world, and he may be right, but we've had some successes here, mingled with some failures. Aside from the Battle of Montmorency most of the land fighting has been in our favor, and our command of the river through our fleet is a powerful factor in our favor. Yet, the short Quebec summer draws to a close, and if we take the city we must take it soon. General Wolfe is lying ill again in a farm house, but his spirit is not quenched and all our operations are directed from his sick bed."

As Charteris spoke, the batteries on the Heights of Levis opened again, pouring round shot, grape and canister upon the Lower Town. Fragments of buildings crashed to the earth, and other fragments burst into flames. Cannon on the frigates in the river also fired upon the devoted city and from the great rock cannon replied. Coils of smoke arose, and, uniting into a huge cloud, floated westward on the wind. It was a great spectacle and Robert's heart throbbed. But he was sad too. He had much pity for the people of Quebec, exposed to that terrible siege and the rain of death.

"We've ravaged a good deal of the country around Quebec," continued Charteris. "It's hard, but we're trying to cut off the subsistence of the French army, and, on the other hand, bands of their Indian allies raid our outposts and take scalps. It's the New England rangers mostly that deal with these war parties, in which the French and Canadians themselves take a part."

"Then Tandakora will find plenty of employment here," said Willet. "Nothing will give him more joy than to steal upon a sentinel in the dark and cut him down."

"And while Tandakora hunts our people," said Tayoga, "we will hunt him. What better work can we do, Great Bear, than to meet these raiding parties?"

"That's our task, Tayoga," replied the hunter.

As they turned away from the Heights of Levis the batteries were still thundering, pouring their terrible flood of destruction upon the Lower Town, and far up on the cliffs cannon were firing at the ships in the river. Robert looked back and his heart leaped as before. The eyes of the world he knew were on Quebec, and well it deserved the gaze of the nations. It was fitting that the mighty drama should be played out there, on that incomparable stage, where earth rose up to make a fitting channel for its most magnificent river.

"It's all that you think it is," said Charteris, again reading his thoughts; "a prize worth the efforts of the most warlike nations."

"The Quebec of the English and French," said Tayoga, "but the lost Stadacona of the Mohawks, lost to them forever. Whatever the issue of the war the Mohawks will not regain their own."

The others were silent, not knowing what to say. A little later a tall, lank youth to whom Charteris gave a warm welcome met them.

"Been taking a look at the town, Leftenant?" he said.

"Aye, Zeb," replied Charteris. "I've been showing it to some friends of mine who, however, have seen it before, though not under the same conditions. These gentlemen are David Willet, Robert Lennox and Tayoga, the Onondaga, and this is Zebedee Crane,[B] a wonderful scout to whom I owe my escape from Quebec."

Willet seized the lank lad's hand and gave it a warm grasp.

"I've heard of you, Zeb Crane," he said. "You're from the Mohawk Valley and you're one of the best scouts and trailers in the whole Province of New York, or anywhere, for that matter."

"And I've heard uv all three uv you," said the boy, looking at them appreciatively. "I wuz at Ticonderogy, an' two uv you at least wuz thar. I didn't git to see you, but I heard uv you. You're a great hunter, Mr. Willet, whom the Iroquois call the Great Bear, an' ez fur Tayoga I know that he belongs to the Clan of the Bear uv the nation Onondaga, an' that he's the grandest trailer the world hez ever seed."

Tayoga actually blushed under his bronze.

"The flattery of my friends should be received at a heavy discount," he said in his prim, precise English.

"It ain't no flattery," said Zebedee. "It's the squar' an' solid truth. I've heard tales uv you that are plum' impossible, but I know that they hev happened all the same. Ef they wuz to tell me that you had tracked the wild goose through the air or the leapin' salmon through the water I'd believe 'em."

"It would be very little exaggeration," said Robert, earnestly. "Be quiet, Tayoga! If we want to sing your praises we'll sing 'em and you can't help it."

The five recrossed the river together, and went to Wolfe's camp below the town facing the Montmorency, Charteris going back into camp with the Royal Americans to whom he belonged, and the others going as free lances with the New England rangers. Robert also resumed his acquaintance with Captain Whyte and Lieutenant Lanhan of the _Hawk_, who were delighted to meet him again.

Soon they found that there was much for them to do. Robert's heart bled at the sight of the devastated country. Houses and farms were in ruins and their people fled. Everywhere war had blazed a red path. Nor was it safe for the rangers unless they were in strong parties. Ferocious Indians roamed about and cut off all stragglers, sometimes those of their own French or Canadian allies. Once they came upon the trail of Tandakora. They found the dead bodies of four English soldiers lying beside an abandoned farm house, and Tayoga, looking at the traces in the earth, told the tale as truly as if he had been there.

"Tandakora and his warriors stood behind these vines," he said, going to a little arbor. "See their traces and in the center of them the prints left by the gigantic footsteps of the Ojibway chief. The house had been plundered by some one, maybe by the warriors themselves, before the soldiers came. Then the Ojibway and his band hid here and waited. It was easy for them. The soldiers knew nothing of wilderness war, and they came up to the house, unsuspecting. They were at the front door, when Tandakora and his men fired. Three of them fell dead where they lie. The fourth was wounded and tried to escape. Tandakora ran from behind the vines. Here goes his trail and here he stopped, balanced himself and threw his tomahawk."

"And it clove the wounded soldier's head," said Robert. "Here he lies, telling the rest of the tale."

They buried the four, but they found new tragedies. Thus the month of August with its successes and failures, its attacks and counter-attacks dragged on, as the great siege of Quebec waged by Phipps and the New Englanders nearly three-quarters of a century before had dragged.

[A] The story of Edward Charteris is told in the author's novel, "A Soldier of Manhattan."

[B] The story of Zeb Crane and his remarkable achievements is contained in the author's novel, "A Soldier of Manhattan." _

Read next: Chapter 15. The Lone Chateau

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