absorption in what was
going on about him made him forget his personal fortunes.

The setting for the great drama was wild and picturesque in the
extreme. On one side stretched the long, gleaming lake, a lake of
wildness and beauty associated with so much of romance and peril in
American story. Over them towered the crest of the peak later known
as Defiance. To the south and west was Lake George, the Iroquois
Andiatarocte, that gem of the east, and, on all sides, save Champlain,
circled the forest, just beginning to wither under the fierce summer
sun.

The energy of the French did not diminish. Stronger and stronger grew
abattis and breastwork, the whole becoming a formidable field over
which men might charge to death. But Robert only smiled to himself.
Abercrombie's mighty array of cannon would smash everything and then
the brave infantry, charging through the gaps, would destroy the
French army. The French, he knew, were brave and skillful, but their
doom was sure. Once St. Luc spoke to him. The chevalier had thrown off
his coat also, and he had swung an ax with the best.

"I am sorry, Mr. Lennox," he said, "that we have not had time to send
you away, but as you can see, our operations are somewhat hurried.
Chance put you here, and here you will have to stay until all is
over."

"I see that you are expecting an army," said Robert, "and I infer from
all these preparations that it will soon be upon you."

"It is betraying no military secret to admit that it is even so.
Abercrombie will soon be at hand."

"And I am surprised that you should await him. I judge that he has
sufficient force to overwhelm you."

"We are never beaten before battle. The Marquis de Montcalm would not
stay, unless he had a fair chance of success."

Robert was silent and St. Luc quickly went back to his work. All day
the men toiled, and when the sun went down, they were still at their
task. The ring of axes and the crash of falling trees resounded
through the dark. Part of the soldiers put their kettles and pots on
the fires, but the others labored on. In the night came the valiant
De Levis with his men, and Montcalm gave him a heartfelt welcome. De
Levis was a host in himself, and Montcalm felt that he was just in
time. He expected the battle on the morrow. His scouts told him that
Abercrombie would be at hand, but without his artillery. The Marquis
looked at the formidable abattis, the rows and rows of trees,
presenting their myriad