It was a passing wish. The Iroquois would remain faithful to their
ancient allies, the English. The blood that Frontenac had shed would be
forever a barrier between the Long House and the Stadacona that was.
Once more Quebec filled his eye, and he gazed into the northeast where
the French capital lay upon its mighty and frowning rock. His curiosity
concerning it increased. He wanted to see what kind of city it was, and
he wanted to see what kind of a man the Marquis Duquesne, the
Governor-General of Canada, was. Well, he would be there before many
days and he would see for himself. He and his comrades already had been
triumphant over a danger so great that nothing could stop them now. He
felt all the elation and certainty that came from a victory over odds.

He rose, parted the bushes and made another tour of the region about
their covert. When he was at a point about a hundred yards away he
fancied that he heard a sound in a thicket a considerable distance
ahead. Promptly taking shelter behind a large tree, he used both eyes
and ears, watching the thicket closely, and listening for any other
sound that might come.

He heard nothing else but his keen eyes noted a bush swaying directly
into the teeth of the wind, a movement that could not occur unless
something alive in the thicket caused it. He slid his rifle forward and
still watched. Now the bush shook violently, and an awkward black
figure, shooting out, ran across the open. It was only a bear, and he
was about to resume his circling walk, but second thought told him that
the bear was running as if he ran away from an object of which he was
afraid, and there was nothing in the northern forests except human
beings to scare a bear.