"I believe you mean it!" he exclaimed. "You rely on yourself and you think, too, that clever Onondaga, Tayoga, will come again to your aid. I acknowledge that he's a great trailer, that he's master of some things that even I, Charles Langlade, the Owl, do not know, but he cannot steal you away a second time." "I admit that I've been thinking of Tayoga. He may be here now close to us." The Owl gave a startled look at the empty air, as if he expected Tayoga to be hovering there, formidable but invisible. "I see you do fear him," laughed Robert. "I do, but we shall be a match for him this time, though I never underrate his powers." A young officer in a captain's uniform stopped suddenly and looked at Robert. Then he advanced and extended his hand. "It is evident that you like the French," he said, "since you are continually coming back to them." "De Galissonnière!" exclaimed Robert, as he warmly shook the extended hand. "Yes, here I am, and I do like many of the French. I'm sorry we're official enemies." "I know that our people will treat you well," jested De Galissonnière, "and then, when we take New York, you can tell the inhabitants of that city what good masters we are and teach them to be reconciled." Young Lennox made a reply in like spirit, and De Galissonnière passed on. But a man walking near with his shoulder well bound greeted him in no such friendly manner. Instead a heavy frown came over his face and his eyes flashed cruelly. It was De Courcelles, nursing the wound Robert had given him, and at the same time increasing his anger. The youth returned his gaze defiantly. "Colonel De Courcelles does not like you," said Langlade, who had noticed the brief exchange. "He does not," replied Robert. "It was my bullet that hurt his shoulder, but I gave him the wound in fair combat." "And he hates you because of it?" "That and other things." "What a strange man! A wound received in fair and honorable battle should be a tie that binds. If you had given it to me in a combat on equal terms I'd have considered it an honor conferred upon me by you. It would have wiped away all grievance and have made us friends." "Then, Monsieur Langlade, I'm afraid I missed my opportunity to make our friendship warmer than it is." "How is that?" "I held you also under the muzzle of my rifle in that battle in the forest, but when I recognized you I could not send the bullet. I turned the weapon aside." "Ah, that was in truth a most worthy and chivalrous act! Embrace me, my friend!" "No! No! We American men never embrace or kiss one another!"