re zealously
than I, Charles Langlade, and you will notice that I have neither given you
any opportunity to escape nor your friend, Tayoga, the slightest chance to
rescue you."

"It is true, Monsieur Langlade. I've abandoned any such hope on the march,
although I may elude you later."

"The Dove, as I told you, will attend to that. But it will be a pretty play
of wits, and I don't mind the test. I'm aware that you have intelligence
and skill, but the Dove, though a woman, possesses the wit of a great
chief, and I'll match her against you."

There was a further abatement of the weather, and they reached a region
where there was no snow at all. Warm winds blew from the direction of the
Great Lakes and the band traveled fast through a land in which the game
almost walked up to their rifles to be killed, such plenty causing the
Indians, as usual, now that they were not on the war path, to feast
prodigiously before huge fires, Langlade often joining them, and showing
that he was an adept in Indian customs.

One evening, just as they were about to light the fire, the warrior who had
been posted as sentinel at the edge of the forest gave a signal and a few
moments later a tall, spare figure in a black robe with a belt about the
waist appeared. Robert's heart gave a great leap. The wearer of the black
robe was an elderly man with a thin face, ascetic and high. The captive
recognized him at once. It was Father Philibert Drouillard, the priest,
whose life had already crossed his more than once, and it was not strange
to see him there, as the French priests roamed far through the great
wilderness of North America, seeking to save the souls of the savages.

Langlade, when he beheld Father Drouillard, sprang at once to his feet, and
Robert also arose quickly. The priest saw young Lennox, but he did not
speak to him just yet, accepting the food that the Owl offered him, and
sitting down with his weary feet to the fire that had now been lighted.

"You have traveled far, Father?" said Langlade, solicitously.

"From the shores of Lake Huron. I have converts there, and I must see that
they do not grow weak in the faith."

"All men, red and white, respect Philibert Drouillard. Why are you alone,
Father?"

"A runner from the Christian village came with me until yesterday. Then I
sent him back, because I would not keep him too long from his people. I can
go the rest of the way alone, as it will be but a few days before I meet a
Fr