"How many men do you think General Abercrombie will have when he advances against us?"
"Not less than fifteen thousand, sir, perhaps more."
The face of Montcalm fell.
"As many as that!" he exclaimed. "It is more than four to one!"
"He cannot have less, sir," repeated St. Luc positively.
Montcalm's brow clouded and he paced back and forth.
"And the Indians who have been so powerful an ally," he said at last. "They are frightened by the reports concerning the Anglo-American army. After their fashion they wish to run away before superior force, and fight when the odds are not so great. It is most embarrassing to lose their help, at such a critical time. Can you do nothing with this sullen giant, Tandakora, who has such influence over them?"
"I fear not, sir. He was with me on the expedition from which I have just returned, and he fared ill. He is in a most savage humor. He is like a bear that will hide in the woods and lick its hurts until the sting has passed. I think we may consider it certain, sir, that they will desert us, for the time."
"And we shall have but little more than three thousand French and Canadians to defend the honor of France and His Majesty's great colony in North America. We might retreat to the fortifications at Crown Point, and make an advantageous stand there, but it goes ill with me to withdraw. Still, prudence cries upon me to do so. I have talked with Bourlamaque, Trepezec, Lotbiniére, the engineer, Langy, the partisan, and other of my lieutenants whom you know. They express varying opinions. Now, Colonel de St. Luc, I want yours, an opinion that is absolutely your own."
St. Luc drew himself up and his warrior soul flashed through his blue eyes.