"Where they will receive the belt of peace that I shall offer them," said St. Luc.
The Onondaga was silent. St. Luc, who had centered his attention upon
Tayoga, now turned it to Robert.
"Mr. Lennox," he said, "we dwell in a world of alarms, and I am French and you are English, or rather American, but I wish that you and I could remain friends."
The frankness and obvious sincerity of his tone surprised Robert. He knew now that he liked the man. He felt that there was steel in his composition, and that upon occasion, and in the service to which he belonged, he could be hard and merciless, but the spirit seemed bright and gallant.
"I know nothing that will keep us from being friends," replied the lad, although he knew well what the Frenchman meant.
"Nor do I," said St. Luc. "It was merely a casual reference to the changes that affect us all. I shall come to Albany some day, Mr. Lennox. It is an interesting town, though perhaps somewhat staid and sober."
"If you come," said Robert sincerely, "I hope I shall be there, and it would please me to have you as a guest."
St. Luc gave him a sharp, examining look.
"I believe you mean it," he said. "It's possible that you and I are going to see much of each other. One can never tell what meetings time will bring about. And now having accepted your hospitality and thanking you for it, we must go."
He rose. Dubois, who had not spoken at all, threw over his shoulder the heavy knapsack, and the Ojibway also stood up, gigantic and sinister.