of water. Nothing
appeared upon its surface, and the far shore was lost in the night. It
seemed to Robert, despite the stone walls of the chateau by their side,
that they were back in the wilderness. It was a northern wilderness too.
The light wind off the river made him shiver.

The front door of the house opened and a figure outlined against the
light appeared. It was an old man in a black robe, tall, thin and
ascetic, and Robert seeing him so clearly in the light of a lamp that he
held in his hand recognized him at once. It was Father Philibert
Drouillard, the same whom he had defeated in the test of oratory in the
vale of Onondaga before the wise sachems, when so much depended on
victory.

"Father Drouillard!" he exclaimed impulsively, stepping forward out of
the shadows.

"Who is it who speaks?" asked the priest, holding the lamp a little
higher.

"Father Drouillard, don't you know me?" exclaimed Robert, advancing
within the circle of light.

"Ah, it is young Lennox!" said the priest. "What a meeting! And under
what circumstances!"

"And there are others here whom you know," said Robert. "Look, this is
David Willet who commands us, and here also is Tayoga, whom you remember
in the vale of Onondaga."

Father Drouillard saluted them gravely.

"You are the enemies of my country," he said, "but I will not deny that
I am glad to see you here. I understand that the savage, Tandakora,
means to attack this house to-night, thinking that it holds a British
garrison. Well, it seems that he will not be far wrong in his thought."

A ghost of a smile flickered over the priest's pale face.

"A garrison but not the garrison that he expects to destroy," said
Willet. "Tandakora fights nominally under the flag of France, but as you
know, Father, he fights chiefly to gratify his own cruel desires."

"I know it too well. Come inside. M. de Chatillard wishes to see you."

Willet, Robert, Tayoga and Zeb Crane went in, and were shown into the
bedroom where the Seigneur Louis Henri Anatole de Chatillard, past
ninety years of age, lay upon his last bed. He was a large, handsome old
man, fair like so many of the Northern French, and his dying eyes were
full of fire. Two women of middle years, his granddaughters, knelt
weeping by each side of his bed, and two servants, tears on their faces,
stood at the foot. Willet and his comrades halted respectfully at the
door.

"Step closer," said the old man, "that I may see you well."