Du Chesne was the gayest of the party, most of whom appeared to regard this adventure more as a frolic than a serious adventure. War was a pastime to these young Canadian seigniors, as well as the almost constant employment of their lives. Crossing the forest to Chambly, they advanced up the frozen Richelieu towards Lake Champlain, for more than a century the great thoroughfare of war parties. The trees stood white as ghosts in the sheltered hollows of the woods, or shivered bare and gray on the wind-swept ridges. The Canadians made their way on snowshoes, with bodies half bent, struggling through frozen pine swamps, along deep ravines, and under frowning hill-sides. Their snowshoes broke on the hard crust or were shivered against rocks or the trunks of fallen trees. The woods resounded with jest and laughter as the gay bushrangers shouted at seeing one another catch and trip to sprawl awkwardly in the deep snow. St. Helène, wishing to hold a council, ordered the company to halt. Frontenac had left the precise point of attack to the discretion of the Canadian leaders, who were familiar with all the conditions of the country through which they were passing, and the men had been kept in ignorance of their destination. The Indians had become distrustful, and now demanded to know where they were being taken. Fickle, wayward, and inconsequent as children, these allies must at the same time be conciliated and controlled, for it was impossible to do without their help. There always existed serious danger that they might repudiate the French alliance, join hands with the English traders, make peace with the Iroquois, and sacrifice their former friends without the slightest compunction. “We are going to attack Albany,” d’Ailleboust de Mantet said firmly. “We must reach that place or die in the attempt. We must obey the orders of our great father Onontio.” The Indians muttered angrily together. They declared the French had surrendered through cowardice the prisoners they had caught by treachery. The palefaces had expected their allies to bear the brunt of the war, and then left them to their fate. The Iroquois had actually burnt French captives in their towns. “How long is it since the French have grown so bold?” shouted one in derision. “They have been shut up in their forts. Will they now fight in the light of day like men?” “We shall fight or die,” answered St. Helène boldly. “Are our Indian allies squaws that they should fly at the first approach of danger? Before Onontio protected you you felt the teeth of the ravenous Iroquois dog. Our Governor tamed him and tied him up, but when Onontio was far away he devoured you worse than ever. We are strong enough to kill the English, destroy the Iroquois, and whip you if you fail in your duty to us. Will you let the English brandy that has killed you in your wigwams lure you into the kettles of the Iroquois?”