There was some quick and rather excited talk between the Abbe and the dusky savages; but he appeared to prevail with them at length, and Fritz heard the order given: 

“Take these men into the fort, and give them every care and attention.  I shall come later to see how my orders have been carried out.”

The men saluted.  They cut the cords which bound the prisoners.  They led them away kindly enough.

The lad who had first spoken pressed up to the side of Fritz.

“I will take care of you, and my uncle will heal your wound.  You remember how Corinne promised some day to return the good favour that you did us.  You are our guests; you are not prisoners.  My uncle, the Abbe, has said so, and no one will dare to dispute his word.  He is the Abbe de Messonnier, whom all the world loves and reveres.”

Chapter 3:  Albany.

“You are not our prisoner,” said Colin; “you and your friends are our guests, welcome to stay or go as you will.  Only we hope and desire that you will not go forth into the forest again until the snow has melted, and you are sound and whole once more.”

The bright-faced boy was seated beside the bed whereon lay Fritz, who felt like a man awakening from a long, strange, and rather frightful dream.  He had become unconscious almost immediately after their rescue three days before, and had only now recovered the use of his faculties and the memory of recent events.

“You had a bad wound on the side of your head when we found you,” explained Colin.  “My uncle, the Abbe, says that had it been left much longer untended you must have died.  He is an excellent surgeon himself, having learned much as to the treatment of wounds and bruises and sicknesses of all kinds.  He is well pleased with its appearance now, and with your state of health.  He says that you Rangers are marvellous tough customers, whether as soldiers or as patients.  You take a great deal of killing!”

Fritz smiled in response to the boy’s bright look, but there was anxiety in his face too.

“Can you tell me aught of the Rangers?” he said.  “You, doubtless, know how we were set upon and dispersed a few days back.”

“Yes; and our Captain of the fort is right glad at it,” said the boy, “for Rogers led him a dog’s life with his raids and robberies.  But all is fair in love and war, and it is not for us to complain of what we ourselves have provoked and should do in like circumstances.  Nevertheless there is rejoicing at Ticonderoga that the Rangers are dispersed and broken for the present.  We were beginning to fear lest they should take away from us all our provision and cut off our supplies.”

“Do you know how many were slain?”

“No; but it must have been a considerable number.  I am sorry myself.  I delight in all brave deeds of daring, and it is the Rangers who have shown themselves the heroes of this campaign.  At first they said Rogers himself had been killed, but that has since been contradicted.  For myself I do not believe it.  The dead were carefully examined by one who knew Rogers well, and he declares there is no corpse that in any way resembles him; and others declare that he was seen escaping to the forest, fighting every inch of the way, with a resolute little band around him whom none cared to follow.”