em."

It was a bit of sentiment, but he felt it very deeply and he saw that
all of the men looked pleased. As he and Tayoga went out he noticed that
they drew their chairs about the dining-room table that Caterina had
cleared, and before the door closed upon the two lads they were already
talking in low and earnest tones.

"They have affairs of importance which are not for us," he said, when he
and the Onondaga were outside.

"It is so," said Tayoga. "The white people have their chiefs and sachems
like the nations of the Hodenosaunee, and their ranks are filled by age.
The young warriors are for the trail, the hunt, and the war path, and
not for the council. It is right that it should be thus. I do not wish
to be a chief or a sachem before my time. I am glad, Dagaeoga, to enjoy
youth, and let our elders do the hard thinking for us."

"So am I," said Robert joyfully as he filled his lungs with draught
after draught of the fresh air. "No seat at the council for me! Not for
twenty years yet! Give me freedom and action! Let others do the planning
and take the responsibility!"

He felt a great elation. His sanguine temperament had made a complete
rebound from the depression following Ticonderoga. Although he did not
know it the result was partly physical--good food and abundant rest, but
he did not seek to analyze the cause, the condition was sufficient. The
color in his cheeks deepened and his eyes glowed.

"Dagaeoga is feeling very, very good," said Tayoga.

"I am," replied Robert with emphasis. "I never felt better. I'm
forgetting Ticonderoga; instead, I'm beholding our army at Quebec, and
I'm seeing our flag wave over all Canada."

"Dagaeoga sees what he wants to see."

"It's not a bad plan. Then the lions die in your path."

"It is so. Dagaeoga speaks a great truth. We will now see how Red Coat
feels."

A portion of the army that had retreated from Ticonderoga was camped on
the flats near the town, and Robert and Tayoga walked swiftly toward the
tents. It was a much more silent force, British and American, than that
which had gone forth not so very long ago to what seemed certain
victory. Officers and men were angry. They felt that they had been
beaten when there was no reason why they should have been defeated.
Obeying orders, they had retreated in sullen silence, when they had felt
sure they could have gone on, fought a new battle, and have crushed
Montcalm. Now they waited impatiently for another call to