“We have met twice!” Charles would say, between his shut teeth.  “Once I was at his mercy, and he showed none.  The second time he fled before me as a man flees from death and hell.  The third time we meet—­and meet we shall—­it will be that the Lord has delivered him into my hand.  I will strike, and spare not.  It will be the hour appointed of Heaven!”

With the lengthening days and the approach of spring the life of the Rangers became less full of hardship, though not less full of adventure.  Snowshoes and skates were laid aside, and the men started to construct boats and canoes in which they soon began to skim the surface of the lake; scouting here, there, and all over, and bringing back news of the enemy’s movements and strength even when no capture of prisoners rewarded their efforts.

Rogers had taken a great liking to John Stark and his followers.  He dubbed Stark his lieutenant, and Fritz and Stark were inseparable companions by this time.  Charles attached himself to no person in particular, but was the friend of all; pitied and respected for his misfortunes, allowed to come and go much as he would; regarded rather as one set aside by Heaven for an instrument of vengeance; standing alone, as it were, not quite like any of his comrades; a dreamy, solitary creature, seldom talking much, often passing the whole day in silent brooding; yet when there was fighting to be done, waking up to a sort of Berserker fury, dealing blows with an almost superhuman strength, and invariably filling the hearts of his adversaries with a species of superstitious fear and dread.

For the tall, gaunt figure with the haggard face, flaming eyes, and wildly-floating locks bore so weird an aspect that a man might be pardoned for regarding it as an apparition.  Not a particle of colour remained in Charles’s face.  The flesh had shrunk away till the bones stood out almost like skin stretched over a skull.  The hair, too, was white as snow, whilst the brows were coal black, enhancing the effect of the luminous, fiery eyes beneath.  It was small wonder that Charles was regarded by Rangers and soldiers alike as a thing apart.  He came and went as he would, no man interfering or asking him questions.

At the same time he seemed to regard Fritz and Stark as his chief friends; and if they started forth with any of the Rangers, it was generally observed that Charles would be of the company.

The life of the forest was pleasant enough in the warmer weather; but the garrison at the fort were anxious to know what orders they would receive for the summer campaign, and so far nothing was heard but that they were to remain on the defensive.  This might be prudent, seeing that Ticonderoga was< strongly fortified and garrisoned; but it pleased neither soldiers nor officers, and the Rangers went scouting more and more eagerly, hoping to learn news which might tempt those in authority to sanction some more overt movement.