Mr. McLean went away, after a while, and Robert took a walk in the town,
renewing old acquaintances and showing to them how one could really rise
from the dead, a very pleasant task. Yet he longed with all his soul for
the forest, and his comrades of the trail. His condition of life on the
island had been mostly mental. It had been easy there to subsist. His
physical activities had not been great, save when he chose to make them
so, and now he swung to the other extreme. He wished to think less and
to act more, and he shared with Mr. Huysman and Mr. McLean the belief
that the coming campaign would win for England and her colonies a
complete triumph.

He too thrilled at the name of Pitt. The very sound of the four letters
seemed to carry magic everywhere, with the young English officers on the
ship, in Boston, in Albany, and he had noticed too that it inspired the
same confidence at the little towns at which they stopped on their way
across Massachusetts. Like a blast on the horn of the mighty Roland, the
call of Pitt was summoning the English-speaking world to arms. Robert
little dreamed then, despite the words of Colonel Strong, that the great
cleavage would come, and that the call would not be repeated until more
than a century and a half had passed, though then it would sound around
the world summoning new English-speaking nations not then born.

Rogers, the famous ranger, upon whom Tayoga had bestowed the name
Mountain Wolf, arrived the next day, bringing with him fifty men whom he
supplied with ammunition for one of his great raids. The rest of his
band was waiting for him near the southern end of Lake George, and he
could stay only a few hours in Albany. He gave Robert a warm welcome.

"I remember you well, Mr. Lennox," he said. "We've had some hard