"It may seem so to one who sees with your eyes and from your
position," said Robert, "but being myself I'm compelled to see with my
own eyes and from our side. I wish to say first, however, Chevalier de
St. Luc, that since you have wished me a very good morning I even wish
you a better."

St. Luc laughed gayly.

"You and I will never be enemies. It would be against nature," he
said.

"No, we'll never be enemies, but why is it against nature?"

"Perhaps I was not happy in my phrase. We like each other too well,
and--in a way--our temperaments resemble too much to engender a mutual
hate. But we'll to business. Mine's a mission of mercy. I come to
receive the surrender of your friends and yourself, since continued
resistance to us will be vain!"

Robert smiled. His gift of golden speech was again making its presence
felt. He had matched himself against St. Luc before the great League
of the Hodenosaunee in the vale of Onondaga, and they had spoken where
all might hear. Now they two alone could hear, but he felt that the
test was the same in kind. He knew that his friends in the thickets
behind him were watching, and he was equally sure that French and
savages in the thickets before him were watching too. He had no doubt
the baleful eyes of Tandakora were glaring at him at that very moment,
and that the fingers of the Ojibway were eager to grasp his scalp. The
idea, singularly enough, caused him amusement, because his imagination,
vivid as usual, leaped far ahead, and he foresaw that his hair would