“Yes, the church is very powerful with us,” said de Galisonniere, following his eyes and noting his expression.  “It suits our people, particularly our good Canadian French.  Our priests are patriotic, brave, self-sacrificing, and are a power in our dealings with the Indians.”

“I know it,” said Robert.

At night they reached Montreal, then much inferior in size and importance to Quebec, the canoe was lifted from the Frontenac, and after many exchanges of courtesies, the three went to an inn.

“If chance offers,” said Robert, “we shall be glad to help you as you have helped us.”

“One never knows,” said de Galisonniere.  “You and I need not conceal from each other that there is much talk of war between England and France, which, of course, would mean war also between the English and French colonies.  If it comes, and come it will, I think, I trust that no ill luck will befall you upon the battlefield.”

“And I wish you as well,” said Robert, sincerely.

The canoe was left in trustworthy hands, it being their purpose to sell it on the morrow and buy a larger boat, and they walked through the streets of this town of Hochelaga toward their inn.  There were other Indians on the street—­French Indians they were called to distinguish them from those who formed a British alliance—­but none could be compared with Tayoga, arrayed in the full splendor of a coming chief of the clan of the Bear, of the nation Onondaga, of the League of the Hodenosaunee.  Never had he borne himself more haughtily, never had his height appeared greater or his presence grander.  Robert, looking at him, felt that if St. Luc was the very flower of French chivalry, this young comrade of his was to an even greater degree the very spirit and essence of all that was best in the great League of the Hodenosaunee.

The Indians—­Hurons, Abenakis, St. Regis, Ottawas, and warriors from farther west—­watched Tayoga with fascinated eyes.  They knew perfectly well who the tall youth was, that he belonged to the great Iroquois league, and they knew, too, in their secret hearts that he had the superiority which Onondaga, Mohawk and their allied nations claimed.  Hence, while their looks sometimes expressed an unwilling admiration, they were also charged always with hostility and hate.  But Tayoga apparently took no notice.  Once more he was the Greek to whom all outer peoples were barbarians.

“I don’t think the French can make much progress with him,” whispered Willet to Robert.  “As the Indian has no written language, his memory is long.  When we reach Quebec he’ll never forget for an instant that it was once Stadacona, a village of the Mohawks, the Keepers of the Eastern Gate, and one of the great nations of the Hodenosaunee.”

“No, he will not,” said Robert, “and look who is waiting to meet us!”

Standing before a low house, which was crowded with the goods of a fur trader, were a half-dozen Indians, wild and savage in looks to the last degree, and in the center was one whose shoulder was bound tightly with a great roll of deerskin.  In stature he rose far above the other warriors, and he had a thickness in proportion.  The hate that the rest had shown when they looked upon Tayoga was nothing to his, which was the very concentrated essence of all malice.