return, confident that you'll come."

The next day the rangers, Robert with them, were far to the north of
Albany, and then they plunged into the deep woods. Robert rejoiced at
the breath of the forest now in its freshest green, not yet faded by
summer heats. He had grown to love his island, but it was not like the
mighty wilderness of North America, in which he had spent so much of his
life. He kept at the head of the column, side by side with the Mountain
Wolf, and his step was so strong and elastic that Rogers took approving
notice.

"You like the woods, Robert," he said. "Well, so do I. It's the only
place where a man can live a free life."

"I like the woods and the towns too," said Robert. "Each in its place.
Where do we camp to-night?"

"By a little lake, a few miles farther on, and as we're not yet in the
Indian country we'll make it a fire camp."

The lake covered only two or three acres, but it was set in high hills,
and it was as clear as crystal. A great fire was built near the shore,
two or three of the rangers caught plenty of fish for all, and they were
broiled over the coals. Game had become so plentiful, owing to the
ravages of the war, that a fat deer was shot near the water, and, when
they added coffee and samp from their own stores, they had a feast.

Robert ate with a tremendous appetite, and then, wrapping himself in his
blanket, lay down under a tree. But he did not go to sleep for a long
time. He was full of excitement. All the omens and signs told him that