"And my men shall help you," said Willet.

They carried the body of Jumonville into the chateau and put it on a bench, while the servants, remarkably composed, used as they were to scenes of violence, began at once to array it for the grave.

"Come into the Seigneur's room," said Father Drouillard, and Robert and Willet followed him into the old man's chamber. M. de Chatillard lay silent and rigid. He, too, had gone on the longest of all journeys.

"His soul fled," said Father Drouillard, "when the battle outside was at its height, but his mind then was not here. It was far back in the past, three-quarters of a century since when Frontenac and Phipps fought before Quebec, and he was little more than a lad in the thick of the combat. I heard him say aloud: 'The Bostonnais are going. Quebec remains ours!' and in that happy moment his soul fled."

"A good ending," said Willet gravely, "and I, one of the Bostonnais, am far from grudging him that felicity. Can my men help you with the burial, Father? We remain here for the rest of the night at least."

"If you will," said Father Drouillard.

Zeb Crane touched Robert on the arm a little later.

"Tayoga has come back," he said.

"I didn't know he'd gone away," said Robert surprised.

"He pursued Tandakora into the dark. Mebbe he thought Tododaho was wrong and that the time for him to settle score with the Ojibway had re'lly come. Any way he wuz off after him like an arrer from the bow."

Robert went outside and found Tayoga standing quietly by the front door.

"Did you overtake him?" he asked.

"No," replied the Onondaga. "I knew that I could not, because Tododaho had not whispered to me that the time was at hand, but, since I had seen him and he was running away, I felt bound to pursue him. The legs of Tandakora are long, and he fled with incredible speed. I followed him to the landing of the next chateau, where he ran down the slope, leaped into a canoe, and disappeared into the mists and vapors that hang so heavily over the river. His time is not yet."

"It seems not, but at any rate we inflicted a very thorough defeat upon him to-night. His band is annihilated."

The bodies of all the fallen warriors were buried the next day, and decent burial was also given to Jumonville. But that of the Seigneur de Chatillard was still lying in state when Willet and the rangers left.

"If you wish," said the hunter to Father Drouillard, "I can procure you a pa.s.s through our lines, and you can return that way to the city. We don't make war on priests."

"I thank you," said Father Drouillard, "but I do not need it. It is easy for me to go into Quebec, whenever I choose, but, for a day or two, my duty will lie here. To-morrow we bury the Seigneur, and after that must put this household in order. Though one of the Bostonnais, you are a good man, David Willet. Take care of yourself, and of the lad, Robert Lennox."

The hunter promised and, saying farewell to the priest, they went back to Wolfe's camp, east of the Montmorency, across which stream De Levis lay facing them. During their absence a party of skirmishers had been cut off by St. Luc, and the whole British army had been disturbed by the activities of the daring Chevalier. But, on the other hand, Wolfe was recovering from a serious illness. The sound mind was finding for itself a sounder body, and he was full of ideas, all of the boldest kind, to take Quebec. If one plan failed he devised another. He thought of fording the Montmorency several miles above its mouth, and of attacking Montcalm in his Beauport camp while another force made a simultaneous attack upon him in front. He had a second scheme to cross the river, march along the edge of the St. Lawrence, and then scale the rock of Quebec, and a third for a general attack upon Montcalm's army in its Beauport intrenchments. And he had two or three more that were variations of the first three, but his generals, Murray, Monckton and Townshend, would not agree to any one of them, and he searched his fertile mind for still another.

But a brave general, even, might well have despaired. The siege made no apparent progress. Nothing could diminish the tremendous strength that nature had given to the position of Quebec, and the skill of Montcalm, Bougainville, and St. Luc met every emergency. Most ominous of all, the summer was waning. The colors that betoken autumn were deepening. Wolfe realized anew that the time for taking Quebec was shortening fast. The deep red appearing in the leaves spoke a language that could not be denied.

Robert, about this time, received an important letter from Benjamin Hardy. It came by way of Boston, Louisbourg and the St. Lawrence. It told him in the polite phrase of the day how glad he had been to hear from Master Jacobus Huysman that he was not dead, although Robert read easily between the lines and saw how genuine and deep was his joy. Mr.

Hardy saw in his escape from so many dangers the hand of providence, a direct interposition in his behalf. He said, from motives of prudence, no mention of Robert's return from the grave had been made to his acquaintances in New York, and Master Jacobus Huysman in Albany had been cautioned to say as little about it as possible. He deemed this wise, for the present, because those who had made the attempts upon his life would know nothing of their failure and so he would have nothing to fear from them. He was glad too, since he was sure to return to some field of the war, that he had joined the expedition against Quebec. The risk of battle there would be great, but it was likely that in so remote a theater of action he would be safe from his unknown enemies.

Mr. Hardy added that great hopes were centered on Wolfe's daring siege.

All the campaigns elsewhere were going well, at last. The full strength of the colonies was being exerted and England was making a mighty effort. Success must come. Everybody had confidence in Mr. Pitt, and in New York they were hopeful that the shadow, hovering so long in the north, would soon be dispelled forever.

In closing he said that when the campaign was over Robert must come to him in New York at once, and that Willet must come with him. His wild life in the woods must cease. Ample provision for his future would be made and he must develop the talents with which he was so obviously endowed.

The water was in Robert's eyes when he finished the letter. Aye, he read between the lines, and he read well. The old thought that he had friends, powerful friends, came to him with renewed strength. It was obvious that the New York merchant had a deep affection for him and was watching over him. It was true of Willet too, and also of Mr. Huysman.

His mind, as ever, turned to the problem of himself, and once more he felt that the solution was not far away.

The next day after he had received the letter Zeb Crane returned from Quebec, into which he had stolen as a spy, and he told Robert and Charteris that the people there, though suffering from privation, were now in great spirits. They were confident that Montcalm, the fortifications and the natural strength of the city would hold off the invader until winter, soon to come, should drive him away forever.

August was now gone and Wolfe wrote to the great Pitt a letter destined to be his last official dispatch, a strange mixture of despondency and resolution. He spoke of the help for Montcalm that had been thrown into Quebec, of his own illness, of the decline in his army's strength through the operations already carried out, of the fact that practically the whole force of Canada was now against him, but, in closing, he a.s.sured the minister that the little time left to the campaign should be used to the utmost.

While plan after plan presented itself to the mind of Wolfe, to be discarded as futile, Robert saw incessant activity with the rangers and fought in many skirmishes with the French, the Canadians and Indians.

Tandakora had gathered a new band and was as great a danger as ever.

They came upon his ruthless trail repeatedly, but they were not able to bring him to battle again. Once they revisited the Chateau de Chatillard, and found the life there going on peacefully within the English lines. Father Drouillard had returned to Quebec.

Another shade of color was added to the leaves and then Robert saw a great movement in Wolfe's camp before the Montmorency. The whole army seemed to be leaving the position and to be going on board the fleet. At first he thought the siege was to be abandoned utterly and his heart sank. But Charteris, whom he saw just before he went on his ship with the Royal Americans, rea.s.sured him.

"I think," he said, "that the die is cast at last. The general has some great plan in his head, I know not what, but I feel in every bone that we're about to attack Quebec."

Robert now felt that way, too. The army merely concentrated its strength on the Heights of Levis and Orleans on the other side, then took ship again, and in the darkness of night, heavily armed and provisioned, ran by the batteries of the city, dropping anchor at Cap Rouge, above Quebec.

Throughout these movements on the water Robert was in a long boat with Willet, Tayoga and a small body of rangers. In the darkness he watched the great St. Lawrence and the lights of the town far above them. What they would do next he did not know, and he no longer asked. He believed that Charteris was right, and that the issue was at hand.

CHAPTER XVI

THE RECKONING

Robert's belief that the issue was at hand was so strong that it was not shaken at all, while they hovered about the town for a while. He heard through Charteris that Wolfe was again ill, that he had suffered a terrible night, but that day had found him better, and, despite his wasted frame and weakness, he was among the troops, kindling their courage anew, and stimulating them to greater efforts.

"A soul of fire in an invalid's frame," said Charteris, and Robert agreed with him.

Through Zeb Crane's amazing powers as a spy, he heard that the French were in the greatest anxiety over Wolfe's movements. They had thought at first that he was abandoning the siege, and then that he meditated an attack at some new point. Montcalm below the town and Bougainville above it were watching incessantly. Their doubts were increased by the fierce bombardments of the British fleet, which poured heavy shot into the Lower Town and the French camp. The French cannon replied, and the hills echoed with the roar, while great clouds of smoke drifted along the river.

Then an afternoon came when Robert felt that the next night and day would tell a mighty tale. It was in the air. Everybody showed a tense excitement. The army was being stripped for battle. He knew that the troops on the Heights of Levis and at Orleans had been ordered to march along the south sh.o.r.e of the St. Lawrence and join the others. The fleet was ready, as always, and the army was to embark. This concentration could not be for nothing. Before the twilight he saw Charteris and they shook hands, which was both a salute and a farewell.

"We take ship after dark," said Charteris, "and I know as surely as I'm standing here that we make some great attempt to-night. The omens and presages are all about us."

"I feel that way, too," said Robert.

"Tododaho will soon appear on his star," said Tayoga, who was with Robert, "but, though I cannot see him, I hear his whisper already."

"What does it say?" asked Robert.

"The whisper of Tododaho tells me that the time has come. We shall meet the enemy in a great battle, but he does not say who will win."

"I believe that, if we can bring Montcalm to battle, we can gain the victory," said Charteris. "I for one, Tayoga, thank you for the prophecy."

"And I," said Robert. "But we'll be together to the end."

"Aye, Dagaeoga, and together we shall see what happens."

Robert also saw the Philadelphians and the Virginians, and he shook hands with them in turn, every one of them giving a silent toast to victory or death. He found Grosvenor with his own regiment, the Grenadiers.