regions. His cheek bones were unusually high even for an Indian and his
gaze was heavy, keen and full of challenge. Robert judged that he
belonged to some western tribe, that he was a Pottawatomie, an Ojibway
or a Chippewa or that perhaps he came from the distant Sioux race.

He was conscious that all three represented strength, each in a
different way, and he felt the gaze of three pairs of eyes resting upon
him in a manner that contained either secret or open hostility. But he
faced them boldly, a gallant and defiant young figure himself, instinct
with courage and an intellectual quality that is superior to courage
itself. The Frenchman who confronted him recognized at once the thinker.

"I bid you good day," said Robert politely. "I did not expect to meet
travelers in these woods."

The Frenchman smiled.

"We are all travelers," he said, "but it is you who are our guest, since
these rivers and mountains and lakes and forests acknowledge the
suzerainty of my royal master, King Louis of France."

His tone was light and bantering and Robert, seeing the advantage of it,
chose to speak in the same vein.

"The wilderness itself is king," he said, "and it acknowledges no
master, save perhaps the Hodenosaunee. But I had thought that the law of
England ran here, at least where white men are concerned."

He saw the eyes of the great savage flash when he mentioned the
Hodenosaunee, and he inferred at once that he was a bitter enemy of the