"Have you ever been to Quebec, Dave?" asked Robert.

"Twice. It's a fortress on a rock high above the St. Lawrence, and it's
the seat of the French power in North America. We English in this
country rule our selves mostly, but the French in Canada don't have
much to say. It's the officials sent out from France who govern as they
please."

"And you believe they'll attack us, Dave?"

"When they're ready, yes, but they intend to choose time and place. I
think they've been sending war belts to the tribes in the north, but I
can't prove it."

"The French in France are a brave and gallant race, Dave, and they are
brave and gallant here too, but I think they're often more cruel than we
are."

It was in David Willet's mind to say it was because the French had
adapted themselves more readily than the English to the ways of the
Indian, but consideration for the feelings of Tayoga restrained him. The
wilderness ranger had an innate delicacy and to him Tayoga was always a
nobleman of the forest.

"You've often told me, Dave," said Lennox, "that I've French blood in
me."

"There's evidence pointing that way," said Willet, "and when I was in
Quebec I saw some of the men from Northern France. I suppose we mostly
think of the French as short and dark, but these were tall and fair.