Robert saw early that while a wonderful woodsman and a born partisan leader, he was also a Gascon, vain, boastful and full of words.

He tried to learn from him something about his possible fate, but he could obtain no hint, until they had been traveling more than three weeks, and Langlade had been mellowed by an uncommonly good supper of tender game, which the Indians had cooked for him.
"You've been trying to draw that information out of me ever since you were captured," he said.

"You were indirect and clever about it, but I noticed it.

I, Charles Langlade, have perceptions, you must understand.

If I do live in the woods I can read the minds of white men." "I know you can," said Robert, smilingly.