Resolved to show no sign of discouragement, he held his head erect and stepped springily.
About three miles, and he saw a gleam of uniforms through the trees, a few steps more and his heart gave a leap.

He beheld a group of Indians, and several Frenchmen, and one of them, tall, young, distinguished, was St.Luc.
The Chevalier was in a white uniform, trimmed with silver, a silver hilted small sword by his side, and his smile was not unpleasant when he said to Robert: "I sent out these three warriors to find me a prisoner and bring him in, but I little suspected that it would be you." "I suspected as little that it was you to whom I was being taken," said Robert.

"But since I had to be a prisoner I'm glad I'm yours instead of De Courcelles' or Jumonville's, as those two soldiers of France have as little cause to love me as I have to love them." "Monsieur De Courcelles is suffering from a bullet wound." "It was my bullet." "You say that rather proudly, but perhaps I'd better not tell it to him.

It seems, Mr.Lennox, that you have a certain facility in getting yourself captured, as this is the second time within a year." "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.