What Verrieul said to the Indians, I didn’t know, being too engrossed in my own thoughts to ask; but when I drew aside the tent flap in half an hour, hoping to see Lanaudiere, the red men sat in a half-circle, staring fixedly at the entrance, as though they expected something wonderful to burst from it.

When Lanaudiere came to us an hour later, he was diplomatically evasive. “You’ve had a taste of war,” he said, “so you’ll understand that a man’s time is not his own in the heat of a campaign. It’s been unavoidable, all this delay; but we’ll have no more of it.” He sighed, as a man sighs over work well done. “I’ll warrant you’ll be glad to leave this camp, too.”

“You mean you’re going to send us to be exchanged?”

He nodded benevolently. “Of course, there’ll be a few formalities, but we’ll see you’re well looked after while they’re being arranged.” His thin brown face, surmounted and softened by his neatly clubbed white hair, had the benignity of a clergyman’s.

“Well looked after?” I asked. “Who’ll look after us? Where shall we be looked after?”

“These things are difficult to arrange satisfactorily,” he said. “I thought of sending you to Isle aux Noix, but that’s damp and unhealthy, and the place will be in a tumult, day and night, with troops and bateaux passing. You’d be ill, I fear! Then St. John’s occurred to me; but really, you know, St. John’s is no better. When all is said and done, Montreal’s the place.” He repeated “Montreal” contemplatively.

“Montreal! You’re sending us to Montreal? How do you expect to exchange for us if we’re in Montreal? The river’ll be frozen in less than a month! Don’t for God’s sake send us as far as Montreal!”

“My dear Captain Merrill,” Lanaudiere protested. “You speak as though Montreal were at the ends of the earth! It’s a charming city, I assure you! In your place I’d consider myself fortunate to be sent to Montreal. It was only last winter that my poor father-in-law was taken prisoner: you’ve heard of him, no doubt? Monsieur de St. Luc?”

He raised his eyebrows politely when I shook my head, speechless.

“No? Ah, well! You’ll be more familiar with his name eventually, I have no doubt. He’s the greatest of our Indian commanders. Yes. Well, do you know, he was sent to Esopus! There truly is an abomination of miserableness in the heart of nothing! Why should you complain at the prospect of Montreal!”

“But my brother! He’s in no condition to travel to Montreal—to be carried around Chambly rapids and over those miles of corduroy roads!”

“Poor fellow!” Lanaudiere said. “He’ll have the best of care. Make your mind entirely at ease about him.”