y like that over Braddock, though it
was not marked by the destruction of an army, and Robert's heart sank lower
and lower. He knew that it would be appalling news to Boston, to Albany and
to New York. The Marquis de Montcalm had justified the reputation that
preceded him. He had struck suddenly with lightning swiftness and with
terrible effect. Not only this blow, but its guarantee of others to come,
filled Robert's heart with fear for the future.

The sun sank upon a rejoicing army. The Indians were still yelling and
dancing, and, though they were no longer allowed to sink their tomahawks in
the heads of their defenseless foes, they made imaginary strokes with them,
and shouted ferociously as they leaped and capered.

Robert was on the strand near the shore of the lake, and wearied by his
long day of watching that which he wished least in the world to see, he sat
down on a sand heap, and put his head in his hands. Peculiarly sensitive to
atmosphere and surroundings, he was, for the moment, almost without hope.
But he knew, even when he was in despair, that his courage would come back.
It was one of the qualities of a temperament such as his that while he
might be in the depths at one hour he would be on the heights at the next.

Several of the Indians, apparently those who had got at the liquor, were
careering up and down the sands, showing every sign of the blood madness
that often comes in the moment of triumph upon savage minds. Robert raised
his face from his hands and looked to see if Tandakora was among them, but
he caught no glimpse of the gigantic Ojibway. The French soldiers who were
guarding the prisoners gazed curiously at the demoniac figures. They were
of the battalions Bearn and Guienne and they had come newly from France.
Plunged suddenly into the wilderness, such sights as they now beheld
filled them with amazement, and often created a certain apprehension. They
were not so sure that their wild allies were just the kind of allies they
wanted.

The sun set lower upon the savage scene, casting a dark glow over the
ruined forts, the troops, the leaping savages and the huddled prisoners.
One of the Indians danced and bounded more wildly than all the rest. He was
tall, but slim, apparently youthful, and he wore nothing except breech
cloth, leggings and moccasins, his naked body a miracle of savage painting.
Robert by and by watched him alone, fascinated by his extraordinary agility
and untiring enthusiasm