West was hateful to him. He could not face the thought of taking up
the old life again. He had been uprooted too suddenly and
ruthlessly. The spell of the forest was gone. Sometimes he felt
that he never wished to look upon waving trees again.

As they partook of the well-cooked supper which Fritz had provided,
and afterwards sat smoking their pipes beside the fire, whilst the
wind moaned and sighed round the corners of the shed, and whispered
through the trees around the clearing, he told these strangers the
whole history of his life, and how it had seemed to be suddenly cut
in half a week ago, whilst the last half already began to look and
feel to him longer than the first.

There was no lack of sympathy and interest in the faces of his
hearers. When they heard how a Frenchman had been with the Indians
upon their raid, Fritz smote the ground heavily with his open hand,
exclaiming:

"That is what we heard as we journeyed onward; that is the rumour
that reached us even in the far south. It was hard to believe that
brother should turn against brother out here in these trackless
wilds, amid hordes of savage Indians. We said it must surely be
false--that Christian men could not be guilty of such wickedness!
Yet it has proved all too true. We have heard stories during our
journey which have filled our hearts with loathing and scorn.
France is playing a treacherous, a vile and unworthy game. England
is no match for her yet--unprepared and taken at a disadvantage.
But you will see, you will see! She will arise from sleep like a
giant refreshed! And then let proud France tremble for her bloody
laurels!"