He left the kitchen, and Howe heard the back door unbarred, and by the sounds he could guess that three or four men had entered the house. They conversed for some time in low voices; then there was a clatter of knives and forks. The officer felt his presence was causing inconvenience; yet he sat on, so intense was his desire to see this man of whom he had heard so much.
His patience was rewarded after a time; he heard leave-taking, and the outer door open and shut. A few minutes after Father Nat reappeared, and behind him towered a man of unusual height, broad-shouldered, large-limbed, dressed in a plain grey hunting suit with tan-leather leggings. His face was rough-hewn, cut in a large mould; hair and beard, both of a reddish hue, were cropped close; his eyes were of that peculiarly dark grey showing blue in some lights, and black when the feelings were wrought to an unusual pitch. In childhood and youth they had been remarkable for their brightness, now at most times they were sombre with a lurid light. Taken as a whole, it was a passionate face, as of a man at war with himself and with the world. His brow was broad and massive; there was intellect and strength in every line; but the predominant expression was one of pain, of suffering, of revolt, indicated more especially by the two deep lines between his eyebrows. He went straight across the room and held out his hand to Howe, who rose and came forward to meet him.
“My father has told me your purpose,” he said, “and I know who you are. I will not insult you by asking you if you really mean to subject yourself to such training; you have said it, that is enough. If, when you have tried it for one month, you or your companions find yourselves physically unequal to withstand the hardships of such a life, you can stop; you will at all events have learnt enough to help you to avoid the mistakes which have already been made, and which have proved so disastrous.”
“That is just what I desire,” answered Howe; “and I need say no more, for I see you recognise how important it is that we British officers should have the knowledge necessary to enable us to discipline and command our men in this new warfare.”
“I do fully; I have thought so for a long time. I have often wondered why you failed to take steps to acquire that knowledge,” answered Roger.
“Because officers are scarce,” said Howe. “I have at last, with difficulty, obtained the leave necessary to permit me to join your scouting parties this winter. In the spring, of course, we shall have active engagements, and, I hope, soon make an end of the war. Pitt is determined to carry things with a high hand, and is sending out reinforcements, whereas France is satisfied to leave everything to her general; and though Montcalm is a splendid officer, and the Canadians and Indians are devoted to him, he must in the long run give in, unless he receives fresh troops from home.”
“Which is not likely,” answered Roger, seating himself, and throwing a fresh log of wood on the dying embers.
Brigadier Howe was at this time three-and-thirty years of age—nearly six years Roger’s senior, but he looked much younger. They represented two distinct types: the delicately nurtured, high-bred Englishman, with less actual physical strength than his New England brother, but possessed of an equal power of endurance, because of the stronger moral principle, the higher spiritual and mental perfection to which he had attained, bringing the body into subjection.
That night those two sat long over the fire. Father Nat wisely left them together; and when they parted both recognised in the other a kindred soul. Their interests were in common, their object the same: the conquest of Canada, the driving out of an alien power; only the incentives differed. Brigadier Howe fought for England and for the Protestant faith, Roger because he hated the Indian and the Canadian. No personal feelings animated Howe; with Roger they were entirely personal—vengeance for the loss of his friend, and hatred because of the pain that loss inflicted on him. Neither of them recognised these shades of difference; their aim, and the end they had in view, united them, and they were both satisfied with each other.