"If you need me, I shall be close to the bushes, a dozen yards farther inland." They separated, and Menard took up his new position. Apparently the movement had stopped. For a long time no sound came, and then, as Menard was on the point of moving forward, a branch cracked sharply not twenty rods away. He called in French:-- "Who are you?" For a moment there was silence, then a rush of feet in his direction. He could hear a number of men bounding through the bushes. He cocked his gun and levelled it, shouting this time in Iroquois:-- "Stand, or I will fire!" "I know that voice! Drop your musket!" came in a merry French voice, and in another moment a sturdy figure, half in uniform and half in buckskin, bearded beyond recognition, had come crashing down the slope, throwing his arms around the Captain's neck so wildly that the two went down and rolled on the sand. Before Menard could struggle to his feet, three soldiers had followed, and stood laughing, forgetting all discipline, and one was saying over and over to the other:-- "It is Captain Menard! Don't you know him? It is Captain Menard!" "You don't know me, Menard, I can see that. I wish I could take the beard off, but I can't. What have you done with my men?" Now Menard knew; it was Du Peron. "I left them at La Gallette," he said. "I haven't seen them--oh, killed?" Menard nodded. "Come down the beach and tell me about it. What condition are you in? Have you anybody with you?" Before Menard could answer, he said to one of the soldiers:-- "Go back and tell the sergeant to bring up the canoes." They walked down the beach, and the other soldiers set about building a new fire. "Perhaps I'd better begin on you," Menard said. "What are you doing here? And what in the devil do you mean by coming up through the woods like a Mohawk on the war-path?" The Lieutenant laughed. "My story isn't a long one. I'm cleaning up our base of supplies at La Famine. We've got a small guard there. The main part of the rear-guard is back at Frontenac." "Where is the column?" "Gone to Niagara, Denonville and all, to build a fort. They'll give it to De Troyes, I imagine. It's a sort of triumphal procession through the enemy's country, after rooting up the Seneca villages and fields and stockades until you can't find an able-bodied redskin this side of the Cayugas. Oh, I didn't answer your other question. What do you think of these?" He held out a foot, shod in a moccasin. "You'd never know the King's troops now, Menard. We're wearing anything we can pick up. I've got a dozen canoes a quarter of a league down the lake. I saw your fire, and thought it best to reconnoitre before bringing the canoes past." He read the question in Menard's glance. "We are not taking out much time for sleep, I can tell you. It's all day and all night until we get La Famine cleared up. There is only a handful of men there, and we're expecting every day that the Cayugas and Onondagas will sweep down on them."