That thought at times was almost maddening.

Doubtless the snow was already falling on the peaks that had seen so many gallant exploits by his comrades and himself, and on George and Champlain, the lakes so beautiful and majestic under any aspect.

Those were the regions he loved.

When would he see them again?
But such thoughts, too, he crushed and saw only the ship that was to take him back to his own.
Some change in the weather came, and he was aware that the winter of the south was at hand.

Yet it was not cold.