"I was treated so well by the French that I thought I could risk it again," said Robert jauntily.
The Chevalier smiled. Robert felt again that current of understanding and sympathy, that, so it seemed to him, had passed so often between them.
"I see," said St. Luc, "that you are willing to give credit to France, the evergreen nation, the nation of light and eternal life. We may lose at times, we may be defeated at times, but we always rise anew. You British and Americans will realize that some day."
"I do not hate France."
"I don't think you do. But this is scarcely a time for me to give you a lecture on French qualities. Sit down on this log. I trust that my warriors did not treat you with undue harshness."
"I've nothing to complain of. They took my weapons, but that is the law of war. I'd have done the same in their place. As I see it, they're not particularly bad Indians. But if you don't mind, I'd like you to cut these rawhide thongs that bind my wrists. They're beginning to sting."
The Chevalier drew a knife and with one sweep of its keen edge severed the rawhide. Robert's wrists flew apart and the blood once more flowed freely through his veins. Though the stinging did not cease he felt great relief.
"I thank you," he said politely, "but, as I told you before, I do not hold it against your warriors, because they bound me. I'd have escaped had they given me any chance at all, and I warn you now, as I warned them, that I intend to escape later on."
St. Luc smiled.
"I'll accept the challenge," he said, "and I'll see that you don't make good your boast. I can assure you, too, if by any possibility you should escape, it certainly will not be before the great battle."