"I think we'd better draw in here," said Robert. "This is undoubtedly an
outpost, and, likely, an officer of some importance is in charge. Ours
is a mission of peace, and we want to placate as many people as we can,
as we go."

"It is so," said Tayoga, making a sweep or two of the paddle, and
sending the canoe in a diagonal line toward the designated shore.

Two men in blue uniforms with white facings walked to the edge of the
water and looked at them with curiosity. Robert gave them a gaze as
inquiring as their own, and after the habit of the forest, noted them
carefully. He took them to be French of France. One was about forty
years of age, rather tall, built well, his face browned by forest life.
He had black, piercing eyes and a strong hooked nose. A man of
resolution but cold of heart, Robert said to himself. The other, a
little smaller, and a little younger, was of much the same type. The
uniforms of both were fine and neat, and they bore themselves as
officers of importance. Like St. Luc, they fortified Robert's opinion of
what he was going to find at Quebec.

Neither of the men spoke until the canoe touched the shore, and its
three occupants sprang out. Then they bowed politely, though Robert
fancied that he saw a trace of irony in their manner, and the elder said
in good English:

"Good evening, gentlemen."

"Good evening, Messieurs," said Robert, remembering that he was to be
spokesman. "We are English."