THE

MAID-AT-ARMS

A Novel

By

Robert W. Chambers

Illustrated by

Howard Chandler Christy

1902

TO

MISS KATHARINE HUSTED

PREFACE

After a hundred years the history of a great war waged by a successfulnation is commonly reviewed by that nation with retrospectivecomplacency. 

Distance dims the panorama; haze obscures the ragged gaps in the pageantuntil the long lines of victorious armies move smoothly across thehorizon, with never an abyss to check their triumph. 

Yet there is one people who cannot view the past through a mirage. Themarks of the birth-pangs remain on the land; its struggle for breath wastoo terrible, its scars too deep to hide or cover. 

For us, the pages of the past turn all undimmed; battles, brutallyetched, stand clear as our own hills against the sky--for in this landwe have no haze to soften truth. 

Treading the austere corridor of our Pantheon, we, too, come at last tovictory--but what a victory! Not the familiar, gracious goddess, wide-winged, crowned, bearing wreaths, but a naked, desperate creature, gaunt, dauntless, turning her iron face to the west. 

The trampling centuries can raise for us no golden dust to cloak theflanks of the starved ranks that press across our horizon. 

Our ragged armies muster in a pitiless glare of light, every mandistinct, every battle in detail. 

Pangs that they suffered we suffer. 

The faint-hearted who failed are judged by us as though they failedbefore the nation yesterday; the brave are re-enshrined as we read; thetraitor, to us, is no grotesque Guy Fawkes, but a living Judasof to-day. 

We remember that Ethan Allen thundered on the portal of all earthlykings at Ticonderoga; but we also remember that his hatred for the greatstate of New York brought him and his men of Vermont perilously close tothe mire which defiled Charles Lee and Conway, and which engulfed poorBenedict Arnold. 

We follow Gates's army with painful sympathy to Saratoga, and there weapplaud a victory, but we turn from the commander in contempt, hisbrutal, selfish, shallow nature all revealed. 

We know him. We know them all--Ledyard, who died stainless, with his ownsword murdered; Herkimer, who died because he was not brave enough to dohis duty and be called a coward for doing it; Woolsey, the craven Majorat the Middle Fort, stammering filthy speeches in his terror when SirJohn Johnson's rangers closed in; Poor, who threw his life away forvanity when that life belonged to the land! Yes, we know themall--great, greater, and less great--our grandfather Franklin, whotrotted through a perfectly cold and selfishly contemptuous Frenchcourt, aged, alert, cheerful to the end; Schuyler, calm andimperturbable, watching the North, which was his trust, and utterlyunmindful of self or of the pack yelping at his heels; Stark, Morgan, Murphy, and Elerson, the brave riflemen; Spencer, the interpreter;Visscher, Helmer, and the Stoners. 

Into our horizon, too, move terrible shapes--not shadowy or lurid, butliving, breathing figures, who turn their eyes on us and hold out theirbutcher hands: Walter Butler, with his awful smile; Sir John Johnson, heavy and pallid--pallid, perhaps, with the memory of his brokenparole; Barry St. Leger, the drunken dealer in scalps; Guy Johnson, organizer of wholesale murder; Brant, called Thayendanegea, brave, terrible, faithful, but--a Mohawk; and that frightful she-devil, CatrineMontour, in whose hot veins seethed savage blood and the blood of agovernor of Canada, who smote us, hip and thigh, until the brawlingbrooks of Tryon ran blood!

No, there is no illusion for us; no splendid armies, banner--laden, passing through unbroken triumphs across the sunset's glory; no wingedvictory, with smooth brow laurelled to teach us to forget the holocaust. Neither can we veil our history, nor soften our legends. Romance alonecan justify a theme inspired by truth; for Romance is more vital thanhistory, which, after all, is but the fleshless skeleton of Romance. 

R. W. C. 

BROADALBIN, May 26, 1902. 

CONTENTS

I. THE ROAD TO VARICKS'. II. IN THE HALLWAY. III. COUSINS. IV. SIRLUPUS. V. A NIGHT AT THE PATROON'S. VI. DAWN. VII. AFTERMATH. VIII. RIDING THE BOUNDS. IX. HIDDEN FIRE. X. TWO LESSONS. XI. LIGHTS ANDSHADOWS. XII. THE GHOST-RING. XIII. THE MAID-AT-ARMS. XIV. ON DUTY. XV. THE FALSE-FACES. XVI. ON SCOUT. XVII. THE FLAG. XVIII. ORISKANY. XIX. THE HOME TRAIL. XX. COCK-CROW. XXI. THE CRISIS. XXII. THE END OF THEBEGINNING. 

ILLUSTRATIONS

"I SAT DOWN HEAVILY IN HOMESICK SOLITUDE". 

"YOU'RE MY COUSIN, GEORGE ORMOND, OR I'M THE FATTEST LIAR SOUTH OFMONTREAL!". 

"SHE SUFFERED US TO SALUTE HER HAND". 

"NOW LOOSE ME--FOR THE FOREST ENDS!". 

"THIS IS THE END, O YOU WISE MEN AND SACHEMS!". 

"JACK MOUNT LOOMED A COLOSSAL FIGURE IN HIS BEADED BUCKSKINS". 

"INSTANTLY MOUNT TRIPPED THE MAN". 

"A STRANGE SHYNESS SEEMED TO HOLD US APART". 

THE MAID-AT-ARMS

I

THE ROAD TO VARICKS'

We drew bridle at the cross-roads; he stretched his legs in hisstirrups, raised his arms, yawned, and dropped his huge hands uponeither thigh with a resounding slap. 

"Well, good-bye, " he said, gravely, but made no movement to leave me. 

"Do we part here?" I asked, sorry to quit my chance acquaintance of theJohnstown highway. 

He nodded, yawned again, and removed his round cap of silver-fox fur toscratch his curly head. 

"We certainly do part at these cross-roads, if you are bound forVaricks', " he said. 

I waited a moment, then thanked him for the pleasant entertainment hiscompany had afforded me, and wished him a safe journey. 

"A safe journey?" he repeated, carelessly. "Oh yes, of course; safejourneys are rare enough in these parts. I'm obliged to you for thethought. You are very civil, sir. Good-bye. "

Yet neither he nor I gathered bridle to wheel our horses, but sat therein mid-road, looking at each other. 

"My name is Mount, " he said at length; "let me guess yours. No, sir!don't tell me. Give me three sportsman's guesses; my hunting-knifeagainst the wheat straw you are chewing!"

"With pleasure, " I said, amused, "but you could scarcely guess it. "

"Your name is Varick?"

I shook my head. 

"Butler?"

"No. Look sharp to your knife, friend. "

"Oh, then I have guessed it, " he said, coolly; "your name is Ormond--andI'm glad of it. "

"Why are you glad of it?" I asked, curiously, wondering, too, at hisknowledge of me, a stranger. 

"You will answer that question for yourself when you meet your kin, theVaricks and Butlers, " he said; and the reply had an insolent ring thatdid not please me, yet I was loath to quarrel with this boyish giantwhose amiable company I had found agreeable on my long journey through aland so new to me. 

"My friend, " I said, "you are blunt. "

"Only in speech, sir, " he replied, lazily swinging one huge leg over thepommel of his saddle. Sitting at ease in the sunshine, he opened hisfringed hunting-shirt to the breeze blowing. 

"So you go to the Varicks?" he mused aloud, eyes slowly closing in thesunshine like the brilliant eyes of a basking lynx. 

"Do you know the lord of the manor?" I asked. 

"Who? The patroon?"

"I mean Sir Lupus Varick. "

"Yes; I know him--I know Sir Lupus. We call him the patroon, though he'snot of the same litter as the Livingstons, the Cosbys, the Phillipses, Van Rensselaers, and those feudal gentlemen who juggle with the highjustice, the middle, and the low--and who will juggle no more. "

"Am I mistaken, " said I, "in taking you for a Boston man?"

"In one sense you are, " he said, opening his eyes. "I was born inVermont. "

"Then you are a rebel?"

"Lord!" he said, laughing, "how you twist our English tongue! 'Tis hisMajesty across the waters who rebels at our home-made Congress. "

"Is it not dangerous to confess such things to a stranger?" I asked, smiling. 

His bright eyes reassured me. "Not to all strangers, " he drawled, swinging his free foot over his horse's neck and settling his bulk onthe saddle. One big hand fell, as by accident, over the pan of his longrifle. Watching, without seeming to, I saw his forefinger touch thepriming, stealthily, and find it dry. 

"You are no King's man, " he said, calmly. 

"Oh, do you take me for a rebel, too?" I demanded. 

"No, sir; you are neither the one nor the other--like a tadpole withlegs, neither frog nor pollywog. But you will be. "

"Which?" I asked, laughing. 

"My wisdom cannot draw that veil for you, sir, " he said. "You may takeyour chameleon color from your friends the Varicks and remain gray, orfrom the Butlers and turn red, or from the Schuylers and turn blueand buff. "

"You credit me with little strength of character, " I said. 

"I credit you with some twenty-odd years and no experience. "

"With nothing more?"

"Yes, sir; with sincerity and a Spanish rifle--which you may have needof ere this month of May has melted into June. "

I glanced at the beautiful Spanish weapon resting across my pommel. 

"What do you know of the Varicks?" I asked, smiling. 

"More than do you, " he said, "for all that they are your kin. Look atme, sir! Like myself, you wear deer-skin from throat to ankle, and yournose is ever sniffing to windward. But this is a strange wind to you. You see, you smell, but your eyes ask, 'What is it?' You are a woodsman, but a stranger among your own kin. You have never seen a living Varick;you have never even seen a partridge. "

"Your wisdom is at fault there, " I said, maliciously. 

"Have you seen a Varick?"

"No; but the partridge--"

"Pooh! a little creature, like a gray meadow-lark remoulded! You call itpartridge, I call it quail. But I speak of the crested thunder--drummingcock that struts all ruffed like a Spanish grandee of ancient times. Wait, sir!" and he pointed to a string of birds' footprints in the dustjust ahead. "Tell me what manner of creature left its mark there?"

I leaned from my saddle, scanning the sign carefully, but the bird thatmade it was a strange bird to me. Still bending from my saddle, I heardhis mocking laugh, but did not look up. 

"You wear a lynx-skin for a saddle-cloth, " he said, "yet that lynx neversqualled within a thousand miles of these hills. "

"Do you mean to say there are no lynxes here?" I asked. 

"Plenty, sir, but their ears bear no black-and-white marks. Pardon, I donot mean to vex you; I read as I run, sir; it is my habit. "

"So you have traced me on a back trail for a thousand miles--fromhabit, " I said, not exactly pleased. 

"A thousand miles--by your leave. "

"Or without it. "

"Or without it--a thousand miles, sir, on a back trail, through foreststhat blossom like gigantic gardens in May with flowers sweeter than ourwhite water-lilies abloom on trees that bear glossy leaves the yearround; through thickets that spread great, green, many-fingered hands atyou, all adrip with golden jasmine; where pine wood is fat as bacon;where the two oaks shed their leaves, yet are ever in foliage; where thethick, blunt snakes lie in the mud and give no warning when they dealdeath. So far, sir, I trail you, back to the soil where your babyfingers first dug--soil as white as the snow which you are yet to seefor the first time in your life of twenty-three years. A land wherethere are no hills; a land where the vultures sail all day withoutflapping their tip-curled wings; where slimy dragon things watch fromthe water's edge; where Greek slaves sweat at indigo-vats that drawvultures like carrion; where black men, toiling, sing all day on thesea-islands, plucking cotton-blossoms; where monstrous horrors, hornlessand legless, wallow out to the sedge and graze like cattle--"

"Man! You picture a hell!" I said, angrily, "while I come fromparadise!"

"The outer edges of paradise border on hell, " he said. "Wait! Sniff thatodor floating. "

"It is jasmine!" I muttered, and my throat tightened with a homesickspasm. 

"It is the last of the arbutus, " he said, dropping his voice to a gentlemonotone. "This is New York province, county of Tryon, sir, and yonderbird trilling is not that gray minstrel of the Spanish orange-tree, mocking the jays and the crimson fire-birds which sing 'Peet! peet!'among the china-berries. Do you know the wild partridge-pea of the pinebarrens, that scatters its seeds with a faint report when the pods aretouched? There is in this land a red bud which has burst thundering intocrimson bloom, scattering seeds o' death to the eight winds. And everyseed breeds a battle, and every root drinks blood!"

He straightened in his stirrups, blue eyes ablaze, face burning underits heavy mask of tan and dust. 

"If I know a man when I see him, I know you, " he said. "God save ourcountry, friend, upon this sweet May day. "

"Amen, sir, " I replied, tingling. "And God save the King the whole yearround!"

"Yes, " he repeated, with a disagreeable laugh, "God save the King; he ispast all human aid now, and headed straight to hell. Friend, let us partere we quarrel. You will be with me or against me this day week. I knewit was a man I addressed, and no tavern-post. "

"Yet this brawl with Boston is no affair of mine, " I said, troubled. "Who touches the ancient liberties of Englishmen touches my country, that is all I know. "

"Which country, sir?"

"Greater Britain. "

"And when Greater Britain divides?"

"It must not!"

"It has. "

I unbound the scarlet handkerchief which I wore for a cap, and held itbetween my fingers to dry its sweat in the breeze. Watching itflutter, I said:

"Friend, in my country we never cross the branch till we come to it, norleave the hammock till the river-sands are beneath our feet. Nohunting-shirt is sewed till the bullet has done its errand, nor do menfish for gray mullet with a hook and line. There is always time to prayfor wisdom. "

"Friend, " replied Mount, "I wear red quills on my moccasins, you wearbits of sea-shell. That is all the difference between us. Good-bye. Varick Manor is the first house four miles ahead. "

He wheeled his horse, then, as at a second thought, checked him andlooked back at me. 

"You will see queer folk yonder at the patroon's, " he said. "You areaccustomed to the manners of your peers; you were bred in that landwhere hospitality, courtesy, and deference are shown to equals; wheredignity and graciousness are expected from the elders; where duty andhumility are inbred in the young. So is it with us--except where you aregoing. The great patroon families, with their vast estates, theirpatents, their feudal systems, have stood supreme here for years. Theirsis the power of life and death over their retainers; they reign absolutein their manors, they account only to God for their trusts. And they aregreat folk, sir, even yet--these Livingstons, these Van Rensselaers, these Phillipses, lords of their manors still; Dutch of descent, polished, courtly, proud, bearing the title of patroon as a noble bearshis coronet. "

He raised his hand, smiling. "It is not so with the Varicks. They arepatroons, too, yet kin to the Johnsons, of Johnson Hall and Guy Park, and kin to the Ormond-Butlers. But they are different from eitherJohnson or Butler--vastly different from the Schuylers or theLivingstons--"

He shrugged his broad shoulders and dropped his hand: "The Varicks areall mad, sir. Good-bye. "

He struck his horse with his soft leather heels; the animal bounded outinto the western road, and his rider swung around once more towards mewith a gesture partly friendly, partly, perhaps, in menace. "Tell SirLupus to go to the devil!" he cried, gayly, and cantered away throughthe golden dust. 

I sat my horse to watch him; presently, far away on the hill's crest, the sun caught his rifle and sparkled for a space, then the point ofwhite fire went out, and there was nothing on the hill-top save thedust drifting. 

Lonelier than I had yet been since that day, three months gone, when Ihad set out from our plantation on the shallow Halifax, which thehammock scarcely separates from the ocean, I gathered bridle withlistless fingers and spoke to my mare. "Isene, we must be movingeastward--always moving, sweetheart. Come, lass, there's grain somewherein this Northern land where you have carried me. " And to myself, muttering aloud as I rode: "A fine name he has given to my cousins theVaricks, this giant forest-runner, with his boy's face and limbs ofiron! And he was none too cordial concerning the Butlers, either--cousins, too, but in what degree they must tell me, for Idon't know--"

The road entering the forest, I ceased my prattle by instinct, and againfor the thousandth time I sniffed at odors new to me, and scanned leafydepths for those familiar trees which stand warden in our Southernforests. There were pines, but they were not our pines, these feathery, dark-stemmed trees; there were oaks, but neither our golden water oaksnor our great, green-and-silver live-oaks. Little, pale flowers bloomedeverywhere, shadows only of our bright blossoms of the South; and therare birds I saw were gray and small, and chary of song, as though thestillness that slept in this Northern forest was a danger not to beawakened. Loneliness fell on me; my shoulders bent and my head hungheavily. Isene, my mare, paced the soft forest-road without a sound, soquietly that the squatting rabbit leaped from between her forelegs, andthe slim, striped, squirrel-like creatures crouched paralyzed as wepassed ere they burst into their shrill chatter of fright or anger, Iknow not which. 

Had I a night to spend in this wilderness I should not know where tofind a palmetto-fan for a torch, where to seek light-wood for splinter. It was all new to me; signs read riddles; tracks were sealed books; theeast winds brought rain, where at home they bring heaven's own balm tous of the Spanish grants on the seaboard; the northwest winds that wedread turn these Northern skies to sapphire, and set bees a-humming onevery bud. 

There was no salt in the air, no citrus scent in the breeze, no heavyincense of the great magnolia bloom perfuming the wilderness like acathedral aisle where a young bride passes, clouded in lace. 

But in the heat a heavy, sweetish odor hung; balsam it is called, andmingled, too, with a faint scent like our bay, which comes from a woodybush called sweet-fern. That, and the strong smell of the bluish, short-needled pine, was ever clogging my nostrils and confusing me. OnceI thought to scent a 'possum, but the musky taint came from a rottinglog; and a stale fox might have crossed to windward and I not noticed, so blunted had grown my nose in this unfamiliar Northern world. 

Musing, restless, dimly confused, and doubly watchful, I rode throughthe timber-belt, and out at last into a dusty, sunny road. Andstraightway I sighted a house. 

The house was of stone, and large and square and gray, with only apillared porch instead of the long double galleries we build; and it hada row of windows in the roof, called dormers, and was surrounded by astockade of enormous timbers, in the four corners of which were setlittle forts pierced for rifle fire. 

Noble trees stood within the fortified lines; outside, green meadowsringed the place; and the grass was thick and soft, and vivid as a greenjewel in color--such grass as we never see save for a spot here andthere in swampy places where the sun falls in early spring. 

The house was yet a hundred rods away to the eastward. I rode on slowly, noticing the neglected fences on either hand, and thought that my cousinVarick might have found an hour to mend them, for his pride's sake. 

Isene, my mare, had already scented the distant stables, and waspricking forward her beautiful ears as I unslung my broad hat of plaitedpalmetto and placed it on my head, the better to salute my hosts when Ishould ride to their threshold in the Spanish fashion we followedat home. 

So, cantering on, I crossed a log bridge which spanned a ravine, belowwhich I saw a grist-mill; and so came to the stockade. The gate was openand unguarded, and I guided my mare through without a challenge from thesmall corner forts, and rode straight to the porch, where an ancientnegro serving-man stood, dressed in a tawdry livery too large for him. As I drew bridle he gave me a dull, almost sullen glance, and it was notuntil I spoke sharply to him that he shambled forward and descended thetwo steps to hold my stirrup. 

"Is Sir Lupus at home?" I asked, looking curiously at this mute, dull-eyed black, so different from our grinning lads at home. 

"Yaas, suh, he done come home, suh. "

"Then announce Mr. George Ormond, " I said. 

He stared, but did not offer to move. 

"Did you hear me?" I asked, astonished. 

"Yaas, suh, I done hear yoh, suh. "

I looked him over in amazement, then walked past him towards the door. 

"Is you gwine look foh Mars' Lupus?" he asked, barring my way with onewrinkled, blue-black hand on the brass door-knob. "Kaze ef you is, youdon't had better, suh. "

I could only stare. 

"Kaze Mars' Lupus done say he gwine kill de fustest man what 'sturb him, suh, " continued the black man, in a listless monotone. "An' I spec' hegwine do it. "

"Is Sir Lupus abed at this hour?" I asked. 

"Yaas, suh. "

There was no emotion in the old man's voice. Something made me thinkthat he had given the same message to visitors many times. 

I was very angry at the discourtesy, for he must have known when toexpect me from my servant, who had accompanied me by water with my boxesfrom St. Augustine to Philadelphia, where I lingered while he wentforward, bearing my letter with him. Yet, angry and disgusted as I was, there was nothing for me to do except to swallow the humiliation, walkin, and twiddle my thumbs until the boorish lord of the manor waked togreet his invited guest. 

"I suppose I may enter, " I said, sarcastically. 

"Yaas, suh; Miss Dorry done say: 'Cato, ' she say, 'ef de young gem'mancome when Mars' Lupus am drunk, jess take care n' him, Cato; put himmos' anywhere 'cep in mah bed, Cato, an' jess call me ef I ain' busy'bout mah business--'"

Still rambling on, he opened the door, and I entered a wide hallway, dirty and disordered. As I stood hesitating, a terrific crash soundedfrom the floor above. 

"Spec' Miss Dorry busy, " observed the old man, raising his solemn, wrinkled face to listen. 

"Uncle, " I said, "is it true that you are all mad in this house?"

"We sho' is, suh, " he replied, without interest. 

"Are you too crazy to care for my horse?"

"Oh no, suh. "

"Then go and rub her down, and feed her, and let me sit here in thehallway. I want to think. "

Another crash shook the ceiling of solid oak; very far away I heard ayoung girl's laughter, then a stifled chorus of voices from thefloor above. 

"Das Miss Dorry an' de chilluns, " observed the old man. 

"Who are the others?"

"Waal, dey is Miss Celia, an' Mars' Harry, an' Mars' Ruyven, an' Mars'Sam'l, an' de babby, li'l Mars' Benny. "

"All mad?"

"Yaas, suh. "

"I'll be, too, if I remain here, " I said. "Is there an inn near by?"

"De Turkle-dove an' Olives. "

"Where?"

"'Bout five mile long de pike, suh. "

"Feed my horse, " I said, sullenly, and sat down on a settle, riflecradled between my knees, and in my heart wrath immeasurable against mykin the Varicks. 

II

IN THE HALLWAY

So this was Northern hospitality! This a Northern gentleman's home, withits cobwebbed ceiling, its little window-panes opaque with stain of rainand dust, its carpetless floors innocent of wax, littered with odds andends--here a battered riding-cane; there a pair of tarnished spurs;yonder a scarlet hunting-coat a-trail on the banisters, with skirts allmud from feet that mayhap had used it as a mat in rainy weather!

I leaned forward and picked up the riding-crop; its cane end was cappedwith heavy gold. The spurs I also lifted for inspection; they werebeautifully wrought in silver. 

Faugh! Here was no poverty, but the shiftlessness of a sot, tramplinggood things into the mire!

I looked into the fireplace. Ashes of dead embers choked it; theandirons, smoke-smeared and crusted, stood out stark against the sootymaw of the hearth. 

Still, for all, the hall was made in good and even noble proportion;simple, as should be the abode of a gentleman; over-massive, perhaps, and even destitute of those gracious and symmetrical galleries which weof the South think no shame to take pride in; for the banisters werebrutally heavy, and the rail above like a rampart, and for a newel-postsome ass had set a bronze cannon, breech upward; and it was green andbeautiful, but offensive to sane consistency. 

Standing, the better to observe the hall on all sides, it came to methat some one had stripped a fine English mansion of fine but ancientfurniture, to bring it across an ocean and through a forest for theembellishment of this coarse house. For there were pictures in framesshowing generals and statesmen of the Ormond-Butlers, one even of thegreat duke who fled to France; and there were pictures of the Varicksbefore they mingled with us Irish--apple-cheeked Dutchmen, cadaverousyouths bearing match-locks, and one, an admiral, with star and sashacross his varnish-cracked corselet of blue steel, looking at me withpale, smoky eyes. 

Rusted suits of mail, and groups of weapons made into star shapes andcircles, points outward, were ranged between the heavy pictures, eachcentred with a moth-ravaged stag's head, smothered in dust. 

As I slowly paced the panelled wall, nose in air to observe theseneglected trophies, I came to another picture, hung all alone near thewall where it passes under the staircase, and at first, for thedarkness, I could not see. 

Imperceptibly the outlines of the shape grew in the gloom from a deep, rich background, and I made out a figure of a youth all cased in armorsave for the helmet, which was borne in one smooth, blue-veined hand. 

The face, too, began to assume form; rounded, delicate, crowned with amass of golden hair; and suddenly I perceived the eyes, and they seemedto open sweetly, like violets in a dim wood. 

"What Ormond is this?" I muttered, bewitched, yet sullen to see suchfeminine roundness in any youth; and, with my sleeve of buckskin, Irubbed the dust from the gilded plate set in the lower frame. 

"The Maid-at-Arms, " I read aloud. 

Then there came to me, at first like the far ring of a voice scarcelyheard through southern winds, the faint echo of a legend told me ere mymother died--perhaps told me by her in those drifting hours of achildhood nigh forgotten. Yet I seemed to see white, sun-drenched sandsand the long, blue swell of a summer sea, and I heard winds in thepalms, and a song--truly it was my mother's; I knew it now--and, of asudden, the words came borne on a whisper of ancient melody:

 "This for the deed she did at Ashby Farms, Helen of Ormond, Royal Maid-at-Arms!"

Memory was stirring at last, and the gray legend grew from the past, howa maid, Helen of Ormond, for love of her cousin, held prisoner in hisown house at Ashby-de-la-Zouch, sheared off her hair, clothed her limbsin steel, and rode away to seek him; and how she came to the house atAshby and rode straight into the gateway, forcing her horse to the greathall where her lover lay, and flung him, all in chains, across hersaddle-bow, riding like a demon to freedom through the Desmonds, hisenemies. Ah! now my throat was aching with the memory of the song, andof that strange line I never understood--"Wearing the ghost-ring!"--and, of themselves, the words grew and died, formed on my silent lips:

 "This for the deed she did at Ashby Farms, Helen of Ormond, Royal Maid-at-Arms!

 "Though for all time the lords of Ormond be Butlers to Majesty, Yet shall new honors fall upon her Who, armored, rode for love to Ashby Farms; Let this her title be: A Maid-at-Arms!

 "Serene mid love's alarms, For all time shall the Maids-at-Arms, Wearing the ghost-ring, triumph with their constancy. And sweetly conquer with a sigh And vanquish with a tear Captains a trembling world might fear. 

 "This for the deed she did at Ashby Farms, Helen of Ormond, Royal Maid-at-Arms!"

Staring at the picture, lips quivering with the soundless words, suchwretched loneliness came over me that a dryness in my throat set megulping, and I groped my way back to the settle by the fireplace and satdown heavily in homesick solitude. 

[Illustration: "I SAT DOWN HEAVILY IN HOMESICK SOLITUDE". ]

Then hate came, a quick hatred for these Northern skies, and thesestrangers of the North who dared claim kin with me, to lure me northwardwith false offer of council and mockery of hospitality. 

I was on my feet again in a flash, hot with anger, ready with insult tomeet insult, for I meant to go ere I had greeted my host--an insult, indeed, and a deadly one among us. Furious, I bent to snatch my riflefrom the settle where it lay, and, as I flung it to my shoulder, wheeling to go, my eyes fell upon a figure stealing down the stairwayfrom above, a woman in flowered silk, bare of throat and elbow, fingersscarcely touching the banisters as she moved. 

She hesitated, one foot poised for the step below; then it fellnoiselessly, and she stood before me. 

Anger died out under the level beauty of her gaze. I bowed, just as Icaught a trace of mockery in the mouth's scarlet curve, and bowed thelower for it, too, straightening slowly to the dignity her mischievouseyes seemed to flout; and her lips, too, defied me, all silently--nay, in every limb and from every finger-tip she seemed to flout me, and theslow, deep courtesy she made me was too slow and far too low, and herrecovery a marvel of plastic malice. 

"My cousin Ormond?" she lisped;--"I am Dorothy Varick. "

We measured each other for a moment in silence. 

There was a trace of powder on her bright hair, like a mist of snow ongold; her gown's yoke was torn, for all its richness, and a wisp of lacein rags fell, clouding the delicate half-sleeve of China silk. 

Her face, colored like palest ivory with rose, was no doll's face, forall its symmetry and a forgotten patch to balance the dimple in herrounded chin; it was even noble in a sense, and, if too chaste forsensuous beauty, yet touched with a strange and pensive sweetness, like'witched marble waking into flesh. 

Suddenly a voice came from above: "Dorothy, come here!"

My cousin frowned, glanced at me, then laughed. 

"Dorothy, I want my watch!" repeated the voice. 

Still looking at me, my cousin slowly drew from her bosom a huge, jewelled watch, and displayed it for my inspection. 

"We were matching mint-dates with shillings for father's watch; I wonit, " she observed. 

"Dorothy!" insisted the voice. 

"Oh, la!" she cried, impatiently, "will you hush?"

"No, I won't!"

"Then our cousin Ormond will come up-stairs and give you what Paddy gavethe kettle-drum--won't you?" she added, raising her eyes to me. 

"And what was that?" I asked, astonished. 

Somebody on the landing above went off into fits of laughter; and, as Ireddened, my cousin Dorothy, too, began to laugh, showing an edge ofsmall, white teeth under the red lip's line. 

"Are you vexed because we laugh?" she asked. 

My tongue stung with a retort, but I stood silent. These Varicks mightforget their manners, but I might not forget mine. 

She honored me with a smile, sweeping me from head to foot with herbright eyes. My buckskins were dirty from travel, and the thrums inrags; and I knew that she noted all these matters. 

"Cousin, " she lisped, "I fear you are something of a macaroni. "

Instantly a fresh volley of laughter rattled from the landing--suchclear, hearty laughter that it infected me, spite my chagrin. 

"He's a good fellow, our cousin Ormond!" came a fresh young voice fromabove. 

"He shall be one of us!" cried another; and I thought to catch a glimpseof a flowered petticoat whisked from the gallery's edge. 

I looked at my cousin Dorothy Varick; she stood at gaze, laughter in hereyes, but the mouth demure. 

"Cousin Dorothy, " said I, "I believe I am a good fellow, even thoughragged and respectable. If these qualities be not bars to your society, give me your hand in fellowship, for upon my soul I am nigh sick for awelcome from somebody in this unfriendly land. "

Still at gaze, she slowly raised her arm and held out to me a fresh, sun-tanned hand; and I had meant to press it, but a sudden shynessscotched me, and, as the soft fingers rested in my palm, I raised themand touched them with my lips in silent respect. 

"You have pretty manners, " she said, looking at her hand, but notwithdrawing it from where it rested. Then, of an impulse, her fingersclosed on mine firmly, and she looked me straight in the eye. 

"You are a good comrade; welcome to Varicks', cousin Ormond!"

Our hands fell apart, and, glancing up, I perceived a group of youthfulbarbarians on the stairs, intently watching us. As my eyes fell on themthey scattered, then closed in together defiantly. A red-haired lad ofseventeen came down the steps, offering his hand awkwardly. 

"I'm Ruyven Varick, " he said. "These girls are fools to bait men of ourage--" He broke off to seize Dorothy by the arm. "Give me that watch, you vixen!"

His sister scornfully freed her arm, and Ruyven stood sullenly clutchinga handful of torn lace. 

"Why don't you present us to our cousin Ormond?" spoke up a maid ofsixteen. 

"Who wants to make your acquaintance?" retorted Ruyven, edging againtowards his sister. 

I protested that I did; and Dorothy, with mock empressement, presentedme to Cecile Butler, a slender, olive-skinned girl with pretty, darkeyes, who offered me her hand to kiss in such determined manner that Ibowed very low to cover my smile, knowing that she had witnessed mysalute to my cousin Dorothy and meant to take nothing less for herself. 

"And those boys yonder are Harry Varick and Sam Butler, my cousins, "observed Dorothy, nonchalantly relapsing into barbarism to point themout separately with her pink-tipped thumb; "and that lad on the stairsis Benny. Come on, we're to throw hunting-knives for pennies. Canyou?--but of course you can. "

I looked around at my barbarian kin, who had produced hunters' knivesfrom recesses in their clothing, and now gathered impatiently aroundDorothy, who appeared to be the leader in their collective deviltries. 

"All the same, that watch is mine, " broke out Ruyven, defiantly. "I'llleave it to our cousin Ormond--" but Dorothy cut in: "Cousin, it wasdone in this manner: father lost his timepiece, and the law is thatwhoever finds things about the house may keep them. So we all ran tothe porch where father had fallen off his horse last night, and I thinkwe all saw it at the same time; and I, being the older and stronger--"

"You're not the stronger!" cried Sam and Harry, in the same breath. 

"I, " repeated Dorothy, serenely, "being not only older than Ruyven by ayear, but also stronger than you all together, kept the watch, spite ofyour silly clamor--and mean to keep it. "

"Then we matched shillings for it!" cried Cecile. 

"It was only fair; we all discovered it, " explained Dorothy. "But Ruyvenmatched with a Spanish piece where the date was under the reverse, andhe says he won. Did he, cousin?"

"Mint-dates always match!" said Ruyven; "gentlemen of our age understandthat, Cousin George, don't we?"

"Have I not won fairly?" asked Dorothy, looking at me. "If I have not, tell me. "

With that, Sam Butler and Harry set up a clamor that they and Cecile hadbeen unfairly dealt with, and all appealed to me until, bewildered, Isat down on the stairs and looked wistfully at Dorothy. 

"In Heaven's name, cousins, give me something to eat and drink beforeyou bring your lawsuits to me for judgment, " I said. 

"Oh, " cried Dorothy, biting her lip, "I forgot. Come with me, cousin!"She seized a bell-rope and rang it furiously, and a loud gong filled thehall with its brazen din; but nobody came. 

"Where the devil are those blacks?" said Dorothy, biting off her wordswith a crisp snap that startled me more than her profanity. "Cato! Whereare you, you lazy--"

"Ahm hyah, Miss Dorry, " came a patient voice from the kitchen stairs. 

"Then bring something to eat--bring it to the gun-roominstantly--something for Captain Ormond--and a bottle of Sir Lupus's ownclaret--and two glasses--"

"Three glasses!" cried Ruyven. 

"Four!" "Five!" shouted Harry and Cecile. 

"Six!" added Samuel; and little Benny piped out, "Theven!"

"Then bring two bottles, Cato, " called out Dorothy. 

"I want some small-beer!" protested Benny. 

"Oh, go suck your thumbs, " retorted Ruyven, with an elder brother'sbrutality; but Dorothy ordered the small-beer, and bade thenegro hasten. 

"We all mean to bear you company, Cousin, " said Ruyven, cheerfully, patting my arm for my reassurance; and truly I lacked something ofassurance among these kinsmen of mine, who appeared to lack none. 

"You spoke of me as Captain Ormond, " I said, turning with a smile toDorothy. 

"Oh, it's all one, " she said, gayly; "if you're not a captain now, youwill be soon, I'll wager--but I'm not to talk of that before thechildren--"

"You may talk of it before me, " said Ruyven. "Harry, take Benny and Samand Cecile out of earshot--"

"Pooh!" cried Harry, "I know all about Sir John's new regiment--"

"Will you hush your head, you little fool!" cut in Dorothy. "Servantsand asses have long ears, and I'll clip yours if you bray again!"

The jingling of glasses on a tray put an end to the matter; Cato, theblack, followed by two more blacks, entered the hall bearing silversalvers, and at a nod from Dorothy we all trooped after them. 

"Guests first!" hissed Dorothy, in a fierce whisper, as Ruyven crowdedpast me, and he slunk back, mortified, while Dorothy, in a languidvoice and with the air of a duchess, drawled, "Your arm, cousin, " andslipped her hand into my arm, tossing her head with a heavy-lidded, insolent glance at poor Ruyven. 

And thus we entered the gun-room, I with Dorothy Varick on my arm, andbehind me, though I was not at first aware of it, Harry, gravelyconducting Cecile in a similar manner, followed by Samuel and Benny, arm-in-arm, while Ruyven trudged sulkily by himself. 

III

COUSINS

There was a large, discolored table in the armory, or gun-room, as theycalled it; and on this, without a cloth, our repast was spread by Cato, while the other servants retired, panting and grinning like over-fathounds after a pack-run. 

And, by Heaven! they lacked nothing for solid silver, my cousins theVaricks, nor yet for fine glass, which I observed without appearance ofvulgar curiosity while Cato carved a cold joint of butcher's roast andcracked the bottles of wine--a claret that perfumed the room like agarden in September. 

"Cousin Dorothy, I have the honor to raise my glass to you, " I said. 

"I drink your health, Cousin George, " she said, gravely--"Benny, letthat wine alone! Is there no small-beer there, that you go coughing andstaining your bib over wine forbidden? Take his glass away, Ruyven! Takeit quick, I say!"

Benny, deprived of his claret, collapsed moodily into a heap, and satswinging his legs and clipping the table, at every kick of his shoon, until my wine danced in my glass and soiled the table. 

"Stop that, you!" cried Cecile. 

Benny subsided, scowling. 

Though Dorothy was at some pains to assure me that they had dined but anhour before, that did not appear to blunt their appetites. And themanner in which they drank astonished me, a glass of wine beingconsidered sufficient for young ladies at home, and a half-glass forlads like Harry and Sam. Yet when I emptied my glass Dorothy emptiedhers, and the servants refilled hers when they refilled mine, till Igrew anxious and watched to see that her face flushed not, but had myanxiety for my pains, as she changed not a pulse-beat for all the redwine she swallowed. 

And Lord! how busy were her little white teeth, while her pretty eyesroved about, watchful that order be kept at this gypsy repast. Cecileand Harry fell to struggling for a glass, which snapped and flew toflakes under their clutching fingers, drenching them with claret. 

"Silence!" cried Dorothy, rising, eyes ablaze. "Do you wish our cousinOrmond to take us for manner-less savages?"

"Why not?" retorted Harry. "We are!"

"Oh, Lud!" drawled Cecile, languidly fanning her flushed face, "I wouldI had drunk small-beer--Harry, if you kick me again I'll pinch!"

"It's a shame, " observed Ruyven, "that gentlemen of our age may not takea glass of wine together in comfort. "

"Your age!" laughed Dorothy. "Cousin Ormond is twenty-three, silly, andI'm eighteen--or close to it. "

"And I'm seventeen, " retorted Ruyven. 

"Yet I throw you at wrestling, " observed Dorothy, with a shrug. 

"Oh, your big feet! Who can move them?" he rejoined. 

"Big feet? Mine?" She bent, tore a satin shoe from her foot, and slappedit down on the table in challenge to all to equal it--a small, silver-buckled thing of Paddington's make, with a smart red heel and aslender body, slim as the crystal slipper of romance. 

There was no denying its shapeliness; presently she removed it, and, stooping, slowly drew it on her foot. 

"Is that the shoe Sir John drank your health from?" sneered Ruyven. 

A rich flush mounted to Dorothy's hair, and she caught at her wine-glassas though to throw it at her brother. 

"A married man, too, " he laughed--"Sir John Johnson, the fat baronet ofthe Mohawks--"

"Damn you, will you hold your silly tongue?" she cried, and rose tolaunch the glass, but I sprang to my feet, horrified and astounded, armoutstretched. 

"Ruyven, " I said, sharply, "is it you who fling such a taunt to shameyour own kin? If there is aught of impropriety in what this man Sir Johnhas done, is it not our affair with him in place of a silly gibeat Dorothy?"

"I ask pardon, " stammered Ruyven; "had there been impropriety in whatthat fool, Sir John, did I should not have spoke, but have acted longsince, Cousin Ormond. "

"I'm sure of it, " I said, warmly. "Forgive me, Ruyven. "

"Oh, la!" said Dorothy, her lips twitching to a smile, "Ruyven only saidit to plague me. I hate that baronet, and Ruyven knows it, and harpsever on a foolish drinking-bout where all fell to the table, even WalterButler, and that slow adder Sir John among the first. And they do say, "she added, with scorn, "that the baronet did find one of my old shoonand filled it to my health--damn him!--"

"Dorothy!" I broke in, "who in Heaven's name taught you such shamefuloaths?"

"Oaths?" Her face burned scarlet. "Is it a shameful oath to say 'Damnhim'?"

"It is a common oath men use--not gentlewomen, " I said. 

"Oh! I supposed it harmless. They all laugh when I say it--father andGuy Johnson and the rest; and they swear other oaths--words I would notsay if I could--but I did not know there was harm in a goodsmart 'damn!'"

She leaned back, one slender hand playing with the stem of her glass;and the flush faded from her face like an afterglow from aserene horizon. 

"I fear, " she said, "you of the South wear a polish we lack. "

"Best mirror your faults in it while you have the chance, " said Harry, promptly. 

"We lack polish--even Walter Butler and Guy Johnson sneer at us underfather's nose, " said Ruyven. "What the devil is it in us Varicks thatset folk whispering and snickering and nudging one another? Am Iparti-colored, like an Oneida at a scalp-dance? Does Harry wear bat'swings for ears? Are Dorothy's legs crooked, that they all stare?"

"It's your red head, " observed Cecile. "The good folk think to see thenoon-sun setting in the wood--"

"Oh, tally! you always say that, " snapped Ruyven. 

Dorothy, leaning forward, looked at me with dreamy blue eyes that sawbeyond me. 

"We are doubtless a little mad, . .. As they say, " she mused. "Otherwisewe seem to be like other folk. We have clothing befitting, when wechoose to wear it; we were schooled in Albany; we are people of quality, like the other patroons; we lack nothing for servants or tenants--whatails them all, to nudge and stare and grin when we pass?"

"Mr. Livingston says our deportment shocks all, " murmured Cecile. 

"The Schuylers will have none of us, " added Harry, plaintively--"and Iadmire them, too. "

"Oh, they all conduct shamefully when I go to school in Albany, " burstout Sammy; "and I thrashed that puling young patroon, too, for he saw meand refused my salute. But I think he will render me my bow next time. "

"Do the quality not visit you here?" I asked Dorothy. 

"Visit us? No, cousin. Who is to receive them? Our mother is dead. "

Cecile said: "Once they did come, but Uncle Varick had that mistress ofSir John's to sup with them and they took offence. "

"Mrs. Van Cortlandt said she was a painted hussy--" began Harry. 

"The Van Rensselaers left the house, vowing that Sir Lupus had used themshamefully, " added Cecile; "and Sir Lupus said: 'Tush! tush! When theVan Rensselaers are too good for the Putnams of Tribes Hill I'll eat myspurs!' and then he laughed till he cried. "

"They never came again; nobody of quality ever came; nobody ever comes, "said Ruyven. 

"Excepting the Johnsons and the Butlers, " corrected Sammy. 

"And then everybody geths tight; they were here lath night and UncleVarick is sthill abed, " said little Benny, innocently. 

"Will you all hold your tongues?" cried Dorothy, fiercely. "Father saidwe were not to tell anybody that Sir John and the Ormond-Butlersvisited us. "

"Why not?" I asked. 

Dorothy clasped both hands under her chin, rested her bare elbows on thetable, and leaned close to me, whispering confidentially: "Because ofthe war with the Boston people. The country is overrun withrebels--rebel troops at Albany, rebel gunners at Stanwix, rebels atEdward and Hunter and Johnstown. A scout of ten men came here last week;they were harrying a war-party of Brant's Mohawks, and Stoner was withthem, and that great ox in buckskin, Jack Mount. And do you know what hesaid to father? He said, 'For Heaven's sake, turn red or blue, SirLupus, for if you don't we'll hang you to a crab-apple and chance thecolor. ' And father said, 'I'm no partisan King's man'; and Jack Mountsaid, 'You're the joker of the pack, are you?' And father said, 'I'm notin the shuffle, and you can bear me out, you rogue!' And then Jack Mountwagged his big forefinger at him and said, 'Sir Lupus, if you're but ajoker, one or t'other side must discard you!' And they rode away, priming their rifles and laughing, and father swore and shook hiscane at them. "

In her eagerness her lips almost touched my ear, and her breath warmedmy cheek. 

"All that I saw and heard, " she whispered, "and I know father toldWalter Butler, for a scout came yesterday, saying that a scout from theRangers and the Royal Greens had crossed the hills, and I saw some ofSir John's Scotch loons riding like warlocks on the new road, and thatgreat fool, Francy McCraw, tearing along at their head and crowinglike a cock. "

"Cousin, cousin, " I protested, "all this--all these names--even thecauses and the manners of this war, are incomprehensible to me. "

"Oh, " she said, in surprise, "have you in Florida not heard of our war?"

"Yes, yes--all know that war is with you, but that is all. I know thatthese Boston men are fighting our King; but why do the Indianstake part?"

She looked at me blankly, and made a little gesture of dismay. 

"I see I must teach you history, cousin, " she said. "Father tells usthat history is being made all about us in these days--and, would youbelieve it? Benny took it that books were being made in the woods allaround the house, and stole out to see, spite of the law thatfather made--"

"Who thaw me?" shouted Benny. 

"Hush! Be quiet!" said Dorothy. 

Benny lay back in his chair and beat upon the table, howling defiance athis sister through Harry's shouts of laughter. 

"Silence!" cried Dorothy, rising, flushed and furious. "Is this acorn-feast, that you all sit yelping in a circle? Ruyven, hold thatdoor, and see that no one follows us--"

"What for?" demanded Ruyven, rising. "If you mean to keep our cousinOrmond to yourself--"

"I wish to discuss secrets with my cousin Ormond, " said Dorothy, loftily, and stepped from her chair, nose in the air, and thatheavy-lidded, insolent glance which once before had withered Ruyven, andnow withered him again. 

"We will go to the play-room, " she whispered, passing me; "that room hasa bolt; they'll all be kicking at the door presently. Follow me. "

Ere we had reached the head of the stairs we heard a yell, a rush offeet, and she laughed, crying: "Did I not say so? They are after us nowfull bark! Come!"

She caught my hand in hers and sped up the few remaining steps, thenthrough the upper hallway, guiding me the while her light feet flew; andI, embarrassed, bewildered, half laughing, half shamed to go a-racingthrough a strange house in such absurd a fashion. 

"Here!" she panted, dragging me into a great, bare chamber and boltingthe door, then leaned breathless against the wall to listen as the chasegalloped up, clamoring, kicking and beating on panel and wall, baffled. 

"They're raging to lose their new cousin, " she breathed, smiling acrossat me with a glint of pride in her eyes. "They all think mightily ofyou, and now they'll be mad to follow you like hound-pups the whip, allday long. " She tossed her head. "They're good lads, and Cecile is asweet child, too, but they must be made to understand that there aremoments when you and I desire to be alone together. "

"Of course, " I said, gravely. 

"You and I have much to consider, much to discuss in these uncertaindays, " she said, confidently. "And we cannot babble matters of import tothese children--"

"I'm seventeen!" howled Ruyven, through the key-hole. "Dorothy's noteighteen till next month, the little fool--"

"Don't mind him, " said Dorothy, raising her voice for Ruyven's benefit. "A lad who listens to his elders through a key-hole is not fit forserious--"

A heavy assault on the door drowned Dorothy's voice. She waited calmlyuntil the uproar had subsided. 

"Let us sit by the window, " she said, "and I will tell you how weVaricks stand betwixt the deep sea and the devil. "

"I wish to come in!" shouted Ruyven, in a threatening voice. Dorothylaughed, and pointed to a great arm-chair of leather and oak. "I willsit there; place it by the window, cousin. "

I placed the chair for her; she seated herself with unconscious grace, and motioned me to bring another chair for myself. 

"Are you going to let me in?" cried Ruyven. 

"Oh, go to the--" began Dorothy, then flushed and glanced at me, askingpardon in a low voice. 

A nice parent, Sir Lupus, with every child in his family ready to swearlike Flanders troopers at the first breath!

Half reclining in her chair, limbs comfortably extended, Dorothy crossedher ankles and clasped her hands behind her head, a picture of indolencein every line and curve, from satin shoon to the dull gold of her hair, which, as I have said, the powder scarcely frosted. 

"To comprehend properly this war, " she mused, more to herself than tome, "I suppose it is necessary to understand matters which I do notunderstand; how it chanced that our King lost his city of Boston, andwhy he has not long since sent his soldiers here into our countyof Tryon. "

"Too many rebels, cousin, " I suggested, flippantly. She disregarded me, continuing quietly;

"But this much, however, I do understand, that our province of New Yorkis the centre of all this trouble; that the men of Tryon hold the lastpennyweight, and that the balanced scales will tip only when we patroonscast in our fortunes, . .. Either with our King or with the rebelCongress which defies him. I think our hearts, not our interests, mustguide us in this affair, which touches our honor. "

Such pretty eloquence, thoughtful withal, was not what I had looked forin this new cousin of mine--this free-tongued maid, who, like a paintedpeach-fruit all unripe, wears the gay livery of maturity, tricking theeye with a false ripeness. 

"I have thought, " she said, "that if the issues of this war depend onus, we patroons should not draw sword too hastily--yet not to sit likehouse-cats blinking at this world-wide blaze, but, in the full flood ofthe crisis, draw!--knowing of our own minds on which side liesthe right. "

"Who taught you this?" I asked, surprised to over-bluntness. 

"Who taught me? What? To think?" She laughed. "Solitude is a rare spurto thought. I listen to the gentlemen who talk with father; and I wouldgladly join and have my say, too, but that they treat me like a fool, and I have my questions for my pains. Yet I swear I am dowered with moresense than Sir John Johnson, with his pale eyes and thick, white flesh, and his tarnished honor to dog him like the shadow of a damned man soldto Satan--"

"Is he dishonored?"

"Is a parole broken a dishonor? The Boston people took him and placedhim on his honor to live at Johnson Hall and do no meddling. And nowhe's fled to Fort Niagara to raise the Mohawks. Is that honorable?"

After a moment I said: "But a moment since you told me that Sir Johncomes here. "

She nodded. "He comes and gees in secret with young Walter Butler--oneof your Ormond-Butlers, cousin--and old John Butler, his father, Colonelof the Rangers, who boast they mean to scalp the whole of Tryon Countyere this blood-feud is ended. Oh, I have heard them talk and talk, drinking o' nights in the gun-room, and the escort's horses stamping atthe porch with a man to each horse, to hold the poor brutes' noses lestthey should neigh and wake the woods. Councils of war, they call them, these revels; but they end ever the same, with Sir John borne off to bedtoo drunk to curse the slaves who shoulder his fat bulk, and WalterButler, sullen, stunned by wine, a brooding thing of malice carved instone; and father roaring his same old songs, and beating time with hislong pipe till the stem snaps, and he throws the glowing bowl at Cato--"

"Dorothy, Dorothy, " I said, "are these the scenes you find already toofamiliar?"

"Stale as last month's loaf in a ratty cupboard. "

"Do they not offend you?"

"Oh, I am no prude--"

"Do you mean to say Sir Lupus sanctions it?"

"What? My presence? Oh, I amuse them; they dress me in Ruyven's clothesand have me to wine--lacking a tenor voice for their songs--and atfirst, long ago, their wine made me stupid, and they found rare sport inbaiting me; but now they tumble, one by one, ere the wine's fire touchesmy face, and father swears there is no man in County Tryon can keep ourcompany o' nights and show a steady pair of legs like mine to bear himbedwards. "

After a moment's silence I said: "Are these your Northern customs?"

"They are ours--and the others of our kind. I hear the plain folk of thecountry speak ill of us for the free life we lead at home--I mean thePalatines and the canting Dutch, not our tenants, though what even theymay think of the manor house and of us I can only suspect, for they areall rebels at heart, Sir John says, and wear blue noses at the first runo' king's cider. "

She gave a reckless laugh and crossed her knees, looking at me underhalf-veiled lids, smooth and pure as a child's. 

"Food for the devil, they dub us in the Palatine church, " she added, yawning, till I could see all her small, white teeth set in rose. 

A nice nest of kinsmen had I uncovered in this hard, gray Northernforest! The Lord knows, we of the South do little penance for thepleasures a free life brings us under the Southern stars, yet suchlicense as this is not to our taste, and I think a man a fool to teachhis children to review with hardened eyes home scenes suited toa tavern. 

Yet I was a guest, having accepted shelter and eaten salt; and I mightnot say my mind, even claiming kinsman's privilege to rebuke what seemedto me to touch the family honor. 

Staring through the unwashed window-pane, moodily brooding on what I hadlearned, I followed impatiently the flight of those small, gray swallowsof the North, colorless as shadows, whirling in spirals above the coldchimneys, to tumble in like flakes of gray soot only to drift out again, wind--blown, aimless, irrational, senseless things. And again thathatred seized me for all this pale Northern world, where the very birdsgyrated like moon-smitten sprites, and the white spectre of virtue satamid orgies where bloodless fools caroused. 

"Are you homesick, cousin?" she asked. 

"Ay--if you must know the truth!" I broke out, not meaning to say myfill and ease me. "This is not the world; it is a gray inferno, whereshades rave without reason, where there is no color, no repose, nothingbut blankness and unreason, and an air that stings all living life tospasms of unrest. Your sun is hot, yet has no balm; your winds plaguethe skin and bones of a man; the forests are unfriendly; the waters allhurry as though bewitched! Brooks are cold and tasteless as the fog; theunsalted, spiceless air clogs the throat and whips the nerves till thevery soul in the body strains, fluttering to be free! How can decentfolk abide here?"

I hesitated, then broke into a harsh laugh, for my cousin sat staring atme, lips parted, like a fair shape struck into marble by a breathof magic. 

"Pardon, " I said. "Here am I, kindly invited to the council of a familywhose interests lie scattered through estates from the West Indies tothe Canadas, and I requite your hospitality by a rudeness I had notbelieved was in me. "

I asked her pardon again for the petty outburst of an untravelledyoungster whose first bath in this Northern air-ocean had chilled hissenses and his courtesy. 

"There is a land, " I said, "where lately the gray bastions of St. Augustine reflected the gold and red of Spanish banners, and the bluesea mirrors a bluer sky. We Ormonds came there from the Western Indies, then drifted south, skirting the Matanzas to the sea islands on theHalifax, where I was born, an Englishman on Spanish soil, and have livedthere, knowing no land but that of Florida, treading no city streetssave those walled lanes of ancient Augustine. All this vast North is newto me, Dorothy; and, like our swamp-haunting Seminoles, my rustic'sinstinct finds hostility in what is new and strange, and I forget mybreeding in this gray maze which half confuses, half alarms me. "

"I am not offended, " she said, smiling, "only I wonder what you finddistasteful here. Is it the solitude?"

"No, for we also have that. "

"Is it us?"

"Not you, Dorothy, nor yet Ruyven, nor the others. Forget what I said. As the Spaniards have it, 'Only a fool goes travelling, ' and I'm not toonotorious for my wisdom, even in Augustine. If it be the custom of thepeople here to go mad, I'll not sit in a corner croaking, 'Repent andbe wise!' If the Varicks and the Butlers set the pace, I promise you tokeep the quarry, Mistress Folly, in view--perhaps outfoot you all toBedlam!. .. But, cousin, if you, too, run this uncoupled race with thepack, I mean to pace you, neck and neck, like a keen whip, ready to turnand lash the first who interferes with you. "

"With me?" she repeated, smiling. "Am I a youngster to be coddled andprotected? You have not seen our hunting. I lead, my friend;you follow. "

She unclasped her arms, which till now had held her bright head cradled, and sat up, hands on her knees, grave as an Egyptian goddessguarding tombs. 

"I'll wager I can outrun you, outshoot you, outride you, throw you atwrestle, cast the knife or hatchet truer than can you, catch more fishthan you--and bigger ones at that!"

With an impatient gesture, peculiarly graceful, like the half-salute ofa friendly swordsman ere you draw and stand on guard:

"Read the forest with me. I can outread you, sign for sign, track fortrack, trail in and trail out! The forest is to me Te-ka-on-do-duk [theplace with a sign-post]. And when the confederacy speaks with fivetongues, and every tongue split into five forked dialects, I make noanswer in finger-signs, as needs must you, my cousin of theSe-a-wan-ha-ka [the land of shells]. We speak to the Iroquois with ourlips, we People of the Morning. Our hands are for our rifles! Hiro [Ihave spoken]!"

She laughed, challenging me with eye and lip. 

"And if you defy me to a bout with bowl or bottle I will not turncoward, neah-wen-ha [I thank you]! but I will drink with you and let myfather judge whose legs best carry him to bed! Koue! Answer me, mycousin, Tahoontowhe [the night hawk]. "

We were laughing now, yet I knew she had spoken seriously, and to plagueher I said: "You boast like a Seminole chanting the war-song. "

"I dare you to cast the hatchet!" she cried, reddening. 

"Dare me to a trial less rude, " I protested, laughing the louder. 

"No, no! Come!" she said, impatient, unbolting the heavy door; and, willy-nilly, I followed, meeting the pack all sulking on the stairs, whorose to seize me as I came upon them. 

"Let him alone!" cried Dorothy; "he says he can outcast me with thewar-hatchet! Where is my hatchet? Sammy! Ruyven! find hatchets and cometo the painted post. "

"Sport!" cried Harry, leaping down-stairs before us. "Cecile, get yourhatchet--get mine, too! Come on, Cousin Ormond, I'll guide you; it's thepainted post by the spring--and hark, Cousin George, if you beat herI'll give you my silvered powder-horn!"

Cecile and Sammy hastened up, bearing in their arms the slimwar-hatchets, cased in holsters of bright-beaded hide, and we took ourweapons and started, piloted by Harry through the door, and across theshady, unkempt lawn to the stockade gate. 

Dorothy and I walked side by side, like two champions in amiable confabbefore a friendly battle, intimately aloof from the gaping crowd whichfollows on the flanks of all true greatness. 

Out across the deep-green meadow we marched, the others trailing oneither side with eager advice to me, or chattering of contests past, when Walter Butler and Brant--he who is now war-chief of the loyalMohawks--cast hatchets for a silver girdle, which Brant wears still; andthe patroon, and Sir John, and all the great folk from Guy Park werehere a-betting on the Mohawk, which, they say, so angered Walter Butlerthat he lost the contest. And that day dated the silent enmity betweenBrant and Butler, which never healed. 

This I gathered amid all their chit-chat while we stood under thewillows near the spring, watching Ruyven pace the distance from the postback across the greensward towards us. 

Then, making his heel-mark in the grass, he took a green willow wand andset it, all feathered, in the turf. 

"Is it fair for Dorothy to cast her own hatchet?" asked Harry. 

"Give me Ruyven's, " she said, half vexed. Aught that touched her senseof fairness sent a quick flame of anger to her cheeks which I admired. 

"Keep your own hatchet, cousin, " I said; "you may have need of it. "

"Give me Ruyven's hatchet, " she repeated, with a stamp of her foot whichRuyven hastened to respect. Then she turned to me, pink with defiance:

"It is always a stranger's honor, " she said; so I advanced, drawing mylight, keen weapon from its beaded sheath, which I had belted round me;and Ruyven took station by the post, ten paces to the right. 

The post was painted scarlet, ringed with white above; below, inoutline, the form of a man--an Indian--with folded arms, also drawn inwhite paint. The play was simple; the hatchet must imbed its blade closeto the outlined shape, yet not "wound" or "draw blood. "

"Brant at first refused to cast against that figure, " said Harry, laughing. "He consented only because the figure, though Indian, waspainted white. "

I scarce heard him as I stood measuring with my eyes the distance. Then, taking one step forward to the willow wand, I hurled the hatchet, and itlanded quivering in the shoulder of the outlined figure on the post. 

"A wound!" cried Cecile; and, mortified, I stepped back, biting my lip, while Harry notched one point against me on the willow wand and Dorothy, tightening her girdle, whipped out her bright war-axe and steppedforward. Nor did she even pause to scan the post; her arm shot up, thekeen axe-blade glittered and flew, sparkling and whirling, biting intothe post, chuck! handle a-quiver. And you could not have laid a Junewillow-leaf betwixt the Indian's head and the hatchet's blade. 

She turned to me, lips parted in a tormenting smile, and I praised thecast and took my hatchet from Ruyven to try once more. Yet again I brokeskin on the thigh of the pictured captive; and again the glistening axeleft Dorothy's hand, whirring to a safe score, a grass-stem's width fromthe Indian's head. 

I understood that I had met my master, yet for the third time strove;and my axe whistled true, standing point-bedded a finger's breadth fromthe cheek. 

"Can you mend that, Dorothy?" I asked, politely. 

She stood smiling, silent, hatchet poised, then nodded, launching theaxe. Crack! came the handles of the two hatchets, and rattled together. But the blade of her hatchet divided the space betwixt my blade and thepainted face, nor touched the outline by a fair hair's breadth. 

Astonishment was in my face, not chagrin, but she misread me, for thetriumph died out in her eyes, and, "Oh!" she said; "I did not mean towin--truly I did not, " offering her hands in friendly amend. 

But at my quick laugh she brightened, still holding my hands, regardingme with curious eyes, brilliant as amethysts. 

"I was afraid I had hurt your pride--before these silly children--" shebegan. 

"Children!" shouted Ruyven. "I bet you ten shillings he can outcast youyet!"

"Done!" she flashed, then, all in a breath, smiled adorably and shookher head. "No, I'll not bet. He could win if he chose. We understandeach other, my cousin Ormond and I, " and gave my hands a little friendlyshake with both of hers, then dropped them to still Ruyven's clamorfor a wager. 

"You little beast!" she said, fiercely; "is it courteous to pit yourguests like game-cocks for your pleasure?"

"You did it yourself!" retorted Ruyven, indignantly--"and entered thepit yourself. "

"For a jest, silly! There were no bets. Now frown and vapor and wag yourfinger--do! What do you lack? I will wrestle you if you wait until I donmy buckskins. No? A foot-race?--and I'll bet you your ten shillings onmyself! Ten to five--to three--to one! No? Then hush your silly head!"

"Because, " said Ruyven, sullenly, coming up to me, "she can outrun mewith her long legs, she gives herself the devil's own airs and graces. There's no living with her, I tell you. I wish I could go to the war. "

"You'll have to go when father declares himself, " observed Dorothy, quietly polishing her hatchet on its leather sheath. 

"But he won't declare for King or Congress, " retorted the boy. 

"Wait till they start to plague us, " murmured Dorothy. "Some fine Julyday cows will be missed, or a barn burned, or a shepherd found scalped. Then you'll see which way the coin spins!"

"Which way will it spin?" demanded Ruyven, incredulous yet eager. 

"Ask that squirrel yonder, " she said, briefly. 

"Thanks; I've asked enough of chatterers, " he snapped out, and came tothe tree where we were sitting in the shadow on the cool, thick carpetof the grass--such grass as I had never seen in that fair Southlandwhich I loved. 

The younger children gathered shyly about me, their active tonguessuddenly silent, as though, all at once, they had taken a sudden alarmto find me there. 

The reaction of fatigue was settling over me--for my journey had been along one that day--and I leaned my back against the tree and yawned, raising my hand to hide it. 

"I wonder, " I said, "whether anybody here knows if my boxes and servanthave arrived from Philadelphia. "

"Your boxes are in the hallway by your bed-chamber, " said Dorothy. "Yourservant went to Johnstown for news of you--let me see--I think it wasSaturday--"

"Friday, " said Ruyven, looking up from the willow wand which he waspeeling. 

"He never came back, " observed Dorothy. "Some believe he ran away toAlbany, some think the Boston people caught him and impressed him towork on the fort at Stanwix. "

I felt my face growing hot. 

"I should like to know, " said I, "who has dared to interfere with myservant. "

"So should I, " said Ruyven, stoutly. "I'd knock his head off. " Theothers stared. Dorothy, picking a meadow-flower to pieces, smiledquietly, but did not look up. 

"What do you think has happened to my black?" I asked, watching her. 

"I think Walter Butler's men caught him and packed him off to FortNiagara, " she said. 

"Why do you believe that?" I asked, angrily. 

"Because Mr. Butler came here looking for boat-men; and I know he triedto bribe Cato to go. Cato told me. " She turned sharply to the others. "But mind you say nothing to Sir Lupus of this until I choose totell him!"

"Have you proof that Mr. Butler was concerned in the disappearance of myservant?" I asked, with an unpleasant softness in my voice. 

"No proof, " replied Dorothy, also very softly. 

"Then I may not even question him, " I said. 

"No, you can do nothing--now. "

I thought a moment, frowning, then glanced up to find them all intentlywatching me. 

"I should like, " said I, "to have a tub of clean water and freshclothing, and to sleep for an hour ere I dress to dine with Sir Lupus. But, first, I should like to see my mare, that she is well bedded and--"

"I'll see to her, " said Dorothy, springing to her feet. "Ruyven, do youtell Cato to wait on Captain Ormond. " And to Harry and Cecile: "Bowl onthe lawn if you mean to bowl, and not in the hallway, while our cousinis sleeping. " And to Benny: "If you tumble or fall into any foolishness, see that you squall no louder than a kitten mewing. Our cousin means tosleep for a whole hour. "

As I rose, nodding to them gravely, all their shy deference seemed toreturn; they were no longer a careless, chattering band, crowding at myelbows to pluck my sleeves with, "Oh, Cousin Ormond" this, and "Listen, cousin, " that; but they stood in a covey, close together, a trifle awedat my height, I suppose; and Ruyven and Dorothy conducted me with a newceremony, each to outvie the other in politeness of language anddeportment, calling to my notice details of the scenery in stiltedphrases which nigh convulsed me, so that I could scarce control the setgravity of my features. 

At the house door they parted company with me, all save Ruyven andDorothy. The one marched off to summon Cato; the other stood silent, herhead a little on one side, contemplating a spot of sunlight on thedusty floor. 

"About young Walter Butler, " she began, absently; "be not too short andsharp with him, cousin. "

"I hope I shall have no reason to be too blunt with my own kin, " I said. 

"You may have reason--" She hesitated, then, with a pretty confidence inher eyes, "For my sake please to pass provocation unnoticed. None willdoubt your courage if you overlook and refuse to be affronted. "

"I cannot pass an affront, " I said, bluntly. "What do you mean? Who isthis quarrelsome Mr. Butler?"

"An Ormond-Butler, " she said, earnestly; "but--but he has had trouble--aterrible disappointment in love, they say. He is morose at times--asullen, suspicious man, one of those who are ever seeking for offencewhere none is dreamed of; a man quick to give umbrage, quicker to resenta fancied slight--a remorseless eye that fixes you with the passionlessmenace of a hawk's eye, dreamily marking you for a victim. He is cruelto his servants, cruel to his animals, terrible in his hatred of theseBoston people. Nobody knows why they ridiculed him; but they did. Thatadds to the fuel which feeds the flame in him--that and the brooding onhis own grievances--"

She moved nearer to me and laid her hand on my sleeve. "Cousin, the manis mad; I ask you to remember that in a moment of just provocation. Itwould grieve me if he were your enemy--I should not sleep for thinking. "

"Dorothy, " I said, smiling, "I use some weapons better than I do thewar-axe. Are you afraid for me?"

She looked at me seriously. "In that little world which I know there ismuch that terrifies men, yet I can say, without boasting, there is not, in my world, one living creature or one witch or spirit that Idread--no, not even Catrine Montour!"

"And who is Catrine Montour?" I asked, amused at her earnestness. 

Ere she could reply, Ruyven called from the stairs that Cato had my tubof water all prepared, and she walked away, nodding a brief adieu, pausing at the door to give me one sweet, swift smile offriendly interest. 

IV

SIR LUPUS

I had bathed and slept, and waked once more to the deep, resonant notesof a conch-shell blowing; and I still lay abed, blinking at the sunsetthrough the soiled panes of my western window, when Cato scraped at thedoor to enter, bearing my sea-boxes one by one. 

Reaching behind me, I drew the keys from under my pillow and tossed themto the solemn black, lying still once more to watch him unlock my boxesand lay out my clothes and linen to the air. 

"Company to sup, suh; gemmen from de No'th an' Guy Pahk, suh, " hehinted, rolling his eyes at me and holding up my best wristbands, madeof my mother's lace. 

"I shall dress soberly, Cato, " said I, yawning. "Give me a narrowqueue-ribbon, too. "

The old man mumbled and muttered, fussing about among the boxes until hefound a full suit of silver-gray, silken stockings, and hound's-tongueshoes to match. 

"Dishyere clothes sho' is sober, " he reflected aloud. "One li'l golevine a-crawlin' on de cuffs, nuvver li'l gole vine a-creepin' up dewes'coat, gole buckles on de houn'-tongue--Whar de hat? Hat done loosehisse'f! Here de hat! Gole lace on de hat--Cap'in Ormond sho' is qualitygemm'n. Ef he ain't, how come dishyere gole lace on de hat?"

"Come, Cato, " I remonstrated, "am I dressing for a ball at Augustine, that you stand there pulling my finery about to choose and pick? I tellyou to give me a sober suit!" I snatched a flowered robe from the bed'sfoot-board, pulled it about me, and stepped to the floor. 

Cato brought a chair and bowl, and, when I had washed once more I seatedmyself while the old man shook out my hair, dusted it to its naturalbrown, then fell to combing and brushing. My hair, with its obstinateinclination to curl, needed neither iron nor pomade; so, silvering itwith my best French powder, he tied the short queue with a black ribbonand dusted my shoulders, critically considering me the while. 

"A plain shirt, " I said, briefly. 

He brought a frilled one. 

"I want a plain shirt, " I insisted. 

"Dishyere sho't am des de plaines' an' de--"

"You villain, don't I know what I want?"

"No, suh!"

And, upon my honor, I could not get that black mule to find me the shirtthat I wished to wear. More than that, he utterly refused to permit meto dress in a certain suit of mouse-color without lace, but actuallybundled me into the silver-gray, talking volubly all the while; and I, half laughing and wholly vexed, almost minded to go burrowing myselfamong my boxes and risk peppering silk and velvet with hair-powder. 

But he dressed me as it suited him, patting my silk shoes into shape, smoothing coat-skirt and flowered vest-flap, shaking out the lace onstock and wrist with all the delicacy and cunning of a lady's-maid. 

"Idiot!" said I, "am I tricked out to please you?"

"You sho' is, Cap'in Ormond, suh, " he said, the first faint approach toa grin that I had seen wrinkling his aged face. And with that he hungmy small-sword, whisked the powder from my shoulders with a bit ofcambric, chose a laced handkerchief for me, and, ere I couldremonstrate, passed a tiny jewelled pin into my powdered hair, where itsparkled like a frost crystal. 

"I'm no macaroni!" I said, angrily; "take it away!"

"Cap'in Ormond, suh, you sho' is de fines' young gemm'n in de province, suh, " he pleaded. "Dess regahd yo'se'f, suh, in dishyere lookum-glass. What I done tell you? Look foh yo'se'f, suh! Cap'in Butler gwine see howde quality gemm'n fixes up! Suh John Johnsing he gwine see! Dat oleKunnel Butler he gwine see, too! Heah yo' is, suh, dess a-bloomin' lakde pink-an'-silver ghos' flower wif de gole heart. "

"Cato, " I asked, curiously, "why do you take pride in tricking out astranger to dazzle your own people?"

The old man stood silent a moment, then looked up with the mild eyes ofan aged hound long privileged in honorable retirement. 

"Is you sho' a Ormond, suh?"

"Yes, Cato. "

"Might you come f'om de Spanish grants, suh, long de Halifax?"

"Yes, yes; but we are English now. How did you know I came from theHalifax?"

"I knowed it, suh; I knowed h'it muss be dat-away!"

"How do you know it, Cato?"

"I spec' you favor yo' pap, suh, de ole Kunnel--"

"My father!"

"Mah ole marster, suh; I was raised 'long Matanzas, suh. Spanish mandone cotch me on de Tomoka an' ship me to Quebec. Ole Suh WilliamJohnsing, he done buy me; Suh John, he done sell me; Mars Varick, he buyme; an' hyah ah is, suh--heart dess daid foh de Halifax san's. "

He bent his withered head and laid his face on my hands, but no tearfell. 

After a moment he straightened, snuffled, and smiled, opening his lipswith a dry click. 

"H'it's dat-a-way, suh. Ole Cato dess 'bleged to fix up de youngmarster. Pride o' fambly, suh. What might you be desirin' now, Mars'Ormond? One li'l drap o' musk on yoh hanker? Lawd save us, but you sho'is gallus dishyere day! Spec' Miss Dorry gwine blink de vi'lets in hereyes. Yaas, suh. Miss Dorry am de only one, suh; de onliest Ormond indishyere fambly. Seem mos' lak she done throw back to our folk, suh. Miss Dorry ain' no Varick; Miss Dorry all Ormond, suh, dess lak you an'me! Yaas, suh, h'its dat-a-way; h'it sho' is, Mars' Ormond. "

I drew a deep, quivering breath. Home seemed so far, and the old slavewould never live to see it. I felt as though this steel-cold North heldme, too, like a trap--never to unclose. 

"Cato, " I said, abruptly, "let us go home. "

He understood; a gleam of purest joy flickered in his eyes, then diedout, quenched in swelling tears. 

He wept awhile, standing there in the centre of the room, smearing thetears away with the flapping sleeves of his tarnished livery, while, like a committed panther, I paced the walls, to and fro, to and fro, heart aching for escape. 

The light in the west deepened above the forests; a long, glowing crackopened between two thunderous clouds, like a hint of hidden hell, firingthe whole sky. And in the blaze the crows winged, two and two, likewitches flying home to the infernal pit, now all ablaze and kindlingcoal on coal along the dark sky's sombre brink. 

Then the red bars faded on my wall to pink, to ashes; a fleck of rosycloud in mid-zenith glimmered and went out, and the round edges of theworld were curtained with the night. 

Behind me, Cato struck flint and lighted two tall candles; outside thelawn, near the stockade, a stable-lad set a conch-horn to his lips, blowing a deep, melodious cattle-call, and far away I heard themcoming--tin, ton! tin, ton! tinkle!--through the woods, slowly, slowly, till in the freshening dusk I smelled their milk and heard them lowingat the unseen pasture-bars. 

I turned sharply; the candle-light dazzled me. As I passed Cato, the oldman bowed till his coat-cuffs hung covering his dusky, wrinkled fingers. 

"When we go, we go together, Cato, " I said, huskily, and so passed onthrough the brightly lighted hallway and down the stairs. 

Candle-light glimmered on the dark pictures, the rusted circles of arms, the stags' heads with their dusty eyes. A servant in yellow livery, lounging by the door, rose from the settle as I appeared and threw openthe door on the left, announcing, "Cap'm Ormond!" in a slovenly fashionwhich merited a rebuke from somebody. 

The room into which the yokel ushered me appeared to be a library, lowof ceiling, misty with sour pipe smoke, which curled and floated level, wavering as the door closed behind me. 

Through the fog, which nigh choked me with its staleness, I perceived abulky gentleman seated at ease, sucking a long clay pipe, his bulginglegs cocked up on a card-table, his little, inflamed eyes twinkling redin the candle-light. 

[Illustration: "YOU'RE MY COUSIN, GEORGE ORMOND, OR I'M THE FATTEST LIARSOUTH OF MONTREAL!". ]

"Captain Ormond?" he cried. "Captain be damned; you're my cousin, GeorgeOrmond, or I'm the fattest liar south of Montreal! Who the devil put 'emup to captaining you--eh? Was it that minx Dorothy? Dammy, I took itthat the old Colonel had come to plague me from his grave--your father, sir! And a cursed fine fellow, if he was second cousin to a Varick, which he could not help, not he!--though I've heard him damn his luck tomy very face, sir! Yes, sir, under my very nose!"

He fell into a fit of fat coughing, and seized a glass ofspirits-and-water which stood on the table near his feet. The draughtallayed his spasm; he wiped his broad, purple face, chuckled, tossed offthe last of the liquor with a smack, and held out a mottled, fat hand, bare of wrist-lace. "Here's my heart with it, George!" he cried. "I'dstand up to greet you, but it takes ten minutes for me to find thesefeet o' mine, so I'll not keep you waiting. There's a chair; fill itwith that pretty body of yours; cock up your feet--here's a pipe--here'ssnuff--here's the best rum north o' Norfolk, which that ass Dunmore laidin ashes to spite those who kicked him out!"

He squeezed my hand affectionately. "Pretty bird! Dammy, but you'llbreak a heart or two, you rogue! Oh, you are your father all over again;it's that way with you Ormonds--all alike, and handsome as that youngdevil Lucifer; too proud to be proud o' your dukes and admirals, and athousand years of waiting on your King. As lads together your fatherused to take me by the ear and cuff me, crying, 'Beast! beast! You eatand drink too much! An Ormond's heart lies not in his belly!' And Ikicked back, fighting stoutly for the crust he dragged me from. Dammy, why not? There's more Dutch Varick than Irish Ormond in me. Rememberthat, George, and we shall get on famously together, you and I. Forgetit, and we quarrel. Hey! fill that tall Italian glass for a toast. Igive you the family, George. May they keep tight hold on what is theirsthrough all this cursed war-folly. Here's to the patroons, Godbless 'em!"

Forced by courtesy to drink ere I had yet tasted meat, I did my partwith the best grace I could muster, turning the beautiful glassdownward, with a bow to my host. 

"The same trick o' grace in neck and wrist, " he muttered, thickly, wiping his lips. "All Ormond, all Ormond, George, like that vixen o'mine, Dorothy. Hey! It's not too often that good blood throws back; themongrel shows oftenest; but that big chit of a lass is no Varick; she'sOrmond to the bones of her. Ruyven's a red-head; there's red in the resto' them, and the slow Dutch blood. But Dorothy's eyes are like thosewild iris-blooms that purple all our meadows, and she has the Ormondhair--that thick, dull gold, which that French Ormond, of King Stephen'stime, was dowered with by his Saxon mother, Helen. Eh? You see, I readit in that book your father left us. If I'm no Ormond, I like to findout why, and I love to dispute the Ormond claim which Walter Butlermakes--he with his dark face and hair, and those dusky, golden eyes ofhis, which turn so yellow when I plague him--the mad wild-cat thathe is. "

Another fit of choking closed his throat, and again he soaked it openwith his chilled toddy, rattling the stick to stir it well ere hedrained it at a single, gobbling gulp. 

A faint disgust took hold on me, to sit there smothering in the fumes ofpipe and liquor, while my gross kinsman guzzled and gabbled andguzzled again. 

"George, " he gasped, mopping his crimsoned face, "I'll tell you now thatwe Varicks and you Ormonds must stand out for neutrality in this war. The Butlers mean mischief; they're mad to go to fighting, and that meansour common ruin. They'll be here to-night, damn them. "

"Sir Lupus, " I ventured, "we are all kinsmen, the Butlers, the Varicks, and the Ormonds. We are to gather here for self-protection during thisrebellion. I am sure that in the presence of this common danger therecan arise no family dissension. "

"Yes, there can!" he fairly yelled. "Here am I risking life and propertyto persuade these Butlers that their interest lies in strictestneutrality. If Schuyler at Albany knew they visited me, his dragoonswould gallop into Varick Manor and hang me to my barn door! Here am I, Isay, doing my best to keep 'em quiet, and there's Sir John Johnson andall that bragging crew from Guy Park combating me--nay, would youbelieve their impudence?--striving to win me to arm my tenantry for thisKing of England, who has done nothing for me, save to make a knight ofme to curry favor with the Dutch patroons in New York province--orstate, as they call it now! And now I have you to count on for support, and we'll whistle another jig for them to-night, I'll warrant!"

He seized his unfilled glass, looked into it, and pushed it from himpeevishly. 

"Dammy, " he said, "I'll not budge for them! I have thousands of acres, hundreds of tenants, farms, sugar-bushes, manufactories for pearl-ash, grist-mills, saw-mills, and I'm damned if I draw sword either way! Am Ia madman, to risk all this? Am I a common fool, to chance anything now?Do they think me in my dotage? Indeed, sir, if I drew blade, if I asmuch as raised a finger, both sides would come swarming all overus--rebels a-looting and a-shooting, Indians whooping off my cattle, firing my barns, scalping my tenants--rebels at heart every one, and I'dnot care tuppence who scalped 'em but that they pay me rent!"

He clinched his fat fists and beat the air angrily. 

"I'm lord of this manor!" he bawled. "I'm Patroon Varick, and I'll do asI please!"

Amazed and mortified at his gross frankness, I sat silent, not knowingwhat to say. Interest alone swayed him; the right and wrong of thisquarrel were nothing to him; he did not even take the trouble to pay ahypocrite's tribute to principle ere he turned his back on it;selfishness alone ruled, and he boasted of it, waving his short, fatarms in anger, or struggling to extend them heavenward, in protestagainst these people who dared urge him to declare himself and stand orfall with the cause he might embrace. 

A faint disgust stirred my pulse. We Ormonds had as much to lose as he, but yelled it not to the skies, nor clamored of gain and loss in suchunseemly fashion, ignoring higher motive. 

"Sir Lupus, " I said, "if we can remain neutral with honor, that surelyis wisest. But can we?"

"Remain neutral! Of course we can!" he shouted. 

"Honorably?"

"Eh? Where's honor in this mob-rule that breaks out in Boston to spotthe whole land with a scurvy irruption! Honor? Where is it in this viledistemper which sets old neighbors here a-itching to cut each other'sthroats? One says, 'You're a Tory! Take that!' and slips a knife intohim. T'other says, 'You're a rebel!' Bang!--and blows his head off!Honor? Bah!"

He removed his wig to wipe his damp and shiny pate, then set the wig onaskew and glared at me out of his small, ruddy eyes. 

"I'm for peace, " he said, "and I care not who knows it. Then, whetherTory or rebel win the day, here am I, holding to my own with both handsand caring nothing which rag flies overhead, so that it brings peace andplenty to honest folk. And, mark me, then we shall live to see theseplumed and gold-laced glory-mongers slinking round to beg their bread atour back doors. Dammy, let 'em bellow now! Let 'em shout for war! I'llkeep my mills busy and my agent walking the old rent-beat. If they canfill their bellies with a mess of glory I'll not grudge them what theycan snatch; but I'll fill mine with food less spiced, and we'll seewhich of us thrives best--these sons of Mars or the old patroon whostays at home and dips his nose into nothing worse than old Madeira!"

He gave me a cunning look, pushed his wig partly straight, and lay back, puffing quietly at his pipe. 

I hesitated, choosing my words ere I spoke; and at first he listenedcontentedly, nodding approval, and pushing fresh tobacco into his claywith a fat forefinger. 

I pointed out that it was my desire to save my lands from ravage, ruin, and ultimate confiscation by the victors; that for this reason he hadsummoned me, and I had come to confer with him and with other branchesof our family, seeking how best this might be done. 

I reminded him that, from his letters to me, I had acquired a fairknowledge of the estates endangered; that I understood that Sir JohnJohnson owned enormous tracts in Tryon County which his great father, Sir William, had left him when he died; that Colonel Claus, Guy Johnson, the Butlers, father and son, and the Varicks, all held estates ofgreatest value; and that these estates were menaced, now by Tory, now byrebel, and the lords of these broad manors were alternately solicitedand threatened by the warring factions now so bloodily embroiled. 

"We Ormonds can comprehend your dismay, your distress, your doubts, " Isaid. "Our indigo grows almost within gunshot of the British outpost atNew Smyrna; our oranges, our lemons, our cane, our cotton, must witherat a blast from the cannon of Saint Augustine. The rebels in Georgiathreaten us, the Tories at Pensacola warn us, the Seminoles aregathering, the Minorcans are arming, the blacks in the Carolinas watchus, and the British regiments at Augustine are all itching to ravage andplunder and drive us into the sea if we declare not for the King whopays them. "

Sir Lupus nodded, winked, and fell to slicing tobacco with a small, goldknife. 

"We're all Quakers in these days--eh, George? We can't fight--no, wereally can't! It's wrong, George, --oh, very wrong. " And he fella-chuckling, so that his paunch shook like a jelly. 

"I think you do not understand me, " I said. 

He looked up quickly. 

"We Ormonds are only waiting to draw sword. "

"Draw sword!" he cried. "What d'ye mean?"

"I mean that, once convinced our honor demands it, we cannot choose butdraw. "

"Don't be an ass!" he shouted. "Have I not told you that there's nohonor in this bloody squabble? Lord save the lad, he's mad asWalter Butler!"

"Sir Lupus, " I said, angrily, "is a man an ass to defend his own land?"

"He is when it's not necessary! Lie snug; nobody is going to harm you. Lie snug, with both arms around your own land. "

"I meant my own native land, not the miserable acres my slaves plant tofeed and clothe me. "

He glared, twisting his long pipe till the stem broke short. 

"Well, which land do you mean to defend, England or these colonies?" heasked, staring. 

"That is what I desire to learn, sir, " I said, respectfully. "That iswhy I came North. With us in Florida, all is, so far, faction andjealousy, selfish intrigue and prejudiced dispute. The truth, the vitaltruth, is obscured; the right is hidden in a petty storm where localtyrants fill the air with dust, striving each to blind the other. "

I leaned forward earnestly. "There must be right and wrong in thisdispute; Truth stands naked somewhere in the world. It is for us to findher. Why, mark me, Sir Lupus, men cannot sit and blink at villany, norlook with indifference on a struggle to the death. One side is right, t'other wrong. And we must learn how matters stand. "

"And what will it advance us to learn how matters stand?" he said, stillstaring, as though I were some persistent fool vexing him withunleavened babble. "Suppose these rebels are right--and, dammy, but Ithink they are--and suppose our King's troops are roundly trouncingthem--and I think they are, too--do you mean to say you'd draw sword andgo a-prowling, seeking for some obliging enemy to knock you in the heador hang you for a rebel to your neighbor's apple-tree?"

"Something of that sort, " I said, good-humoredly. 

"Oh, Don Quixote once more, eh?" he sneered, too mad to raise his voiceto the more convenient bellow which seemed to soothe him as much as itdistressed his listener. "Well, you've got a fool's mate in Sir GeorgeCovert, the insufferable dandy! And all you two need is a pair o' Panzasand a brace of windmills. Bah!" He grew angrier. "Bah, I say!" He brokeout: "Damnation, sir! Go to the devil!"

I said, calmly: "Sir Lupus, I hear your observation with patience; Inaturally receive your admonition with respect, but your bearing towardsme I resent. Pray, sir, remember that I am under your roof now, but whenI quit it I am free to call you to account. "

"What! You'd fight me?"

"Scarcely, sir; but I should expect somebody to make your words good. "

"Bah! Who? Ruyven? He's a lad! Dorothy is the only one to--" He brokeout into a hoarse laugh. "Oh, you Ormonds! I might have saved myself thepains. And now you want to flesh your sword, it matters not inwhom--Tory, rebel, neutral folk, they're all one to you, so that youfight! George, don't take offence; I naturally swear at those I differwith. I may love 'em and yet curse 'em like a sailor! Know me better, George! Bear with me; let me swear at you, lad! It's all I can do. "

He spread out his fat hands imploringly, recrossing his enormous legs onthe card-table. "I can't fight, George; I would gladly, but I'm too fat. Don't grudge me a few kindly oaths now and then. It's all I can do. "

I was seized with a fit of laughter, utterly uncontrollable. Sir Lupusobserved me peevishly, twiddling his broken pipe, and I saw he longed tolaunch it at my head, which made me laugh till his large, round, redface grew grayer and foggier through the mirth-mist in my eyes. 

"Am I so droll?" he snapped. 

"Oh yes, yes, Sir Lupus, " I cried, weakly. "Don't grudge me this laugh. It is all I can do. "

A grim smile came over his broad face. 

"Touched!" he said. "I've a fine pair on my hands now--you and SirGeorge Covert--to plague me and prick me with your wit, like mosquitoesround a drowsy man. A fine family conference we shall have, with SirJohn Johnson and the Butlers shooting one way, you and Sir George Covertfiring t'other, and me betwixt you, singing psalms and getting all yourarrows in me, fore and aft. "

"Who is Sir George Covert?" I asked. 

"One o' the Calverts, Lord Baltimore's kin, a sort of cousin of theOrmond-Butlers, a supercilious dandy, a languid macaroni; plagues me, damn his impudence, but I can't hate him--no! Hate him? Faith, I owe himmore than any man on earth . .. And love him for it--which is strange!"

"Has he an estate in jeopardy?" I inquired. 

"Yes. He has a mansion in Albany, too, which he leases. He bought a mileon the great Vlaic and lives there all alone, shooting, fishing, playingthe guitar o' moony nights, which they say sets the wild-cats wilder. Mark me, George, a petty mile square and a shooting shanty, and thislanguid ass says he means to fight for it. Lord help the man! I told himI'd buy him out to save him from embroiling us all, and what d' yethink? He stared at me through his lorgnons as though I had been somequeer, new bird, and, says he, 'Lud!' says he, ' there's a world o'harmless sport in you yet, Sir Lupus, but you don't spell your titleright, ' says he. 'Change the a to an o and add an ell for good measure, and there you have it, ' says he, a-drawling. With which he minced off, dusting his nose with his lace handkerchief, and I'm damned if I see thejoke yet in spelling patroon with an o for the a and an ell forgood measure!"

He paused, out of breath, to pour himself some spirits. "Joke?" hemuttered. "Where the devil is it? I see no wit in that. " And he pickedup a fresh pipe from the rack on the table and moistened the clay withhis fat tongue. 

We sat in silence for a while. That this Sir George Covert should callthe patroon a poltroon hurt me, for he was kin to us both; yet it seemedthat there might be truth in the insolent fling, for selfishness andpoltroonery are too often linked. 

I raised my eyes and looked almost furtively at my cousin Varick. He hadno neck; the spot where his bullet head joined his body was marked onlyby a narrow and soiled stock. His eyes alone relieved the monotony of astolid countenance; all else was fat. 

Sunk in my own reflections, lying back in my arm-chair, I watcheddreamily the smoke pouring from the patroon's pipe, floating away, tohang wavering across the room, now lifting, now curling downward, asthough drawn by a hidden current towards the unwaxed oaken floor. 

No, there was no Ormond in him; he was all Varick, all Dutch, allpatroon. 

I had never seen any man like him save once, when a red-faced Albanymerchant came a-waddling to the sea-islands looking for cotton andindigo, and we all despised him for the eagerness with which he trimmedhis shillings at the Augustine taverns. Thrift is a word abused, andserves too often as a mask for avarice. 

As I sat there fashioning wise saws and proverbs in my busy mind, thehall door opened and the first guest was announced--Sir George Covert. 

And in he came, a well-built, lazy gentleman of forty, swinginggracefully on a pair o' legs no man need take shame in; ruffles on cuffand stock, hair perfumed, powdered, and rolled twice in French puffs, and on his hand a brilliant that sparkled purest fire. Under one arm hebore his gold-edged hat, and as he strolled forward, peering coollyabout him through his quizzing glass, I thought I had never seen suchgraceful assurance, nor such insolently handsome eyes, marred by thefaint shadows of dissipation. 

Sir Lupus nodded a welcome and blew a great cloud of smoke into the air. 

"Ah, " observed Sir George, languidly, "Vesuvius in irruption?"

"How de do, " said Sir Lupus, suspiciously. 

"The mountain welcomes Mohammed, " commented Sir George. "Mohammedgreets the mountain! How de do, Sir Lupus! Ah!" He turned gracefullytowards me, bowing. "Pray present me, Sir Lupus. "

"My cousin, George Ormond, " said Sir Lupus. "George first, Georgesecond, " he added, with a sneer. 

"No relation to George III. , I trust, sir?" inquired Sir George, anxiously, offering his cool, well-kept hand. 

"No, " said I, laughing at his serious countenance and returning hisclasp firmly. 

"That's well, that's well, " murmured Sir George, apparently vastlyrelieved, and invited me to take snuff with him. 

We had scarcely exchanged a civil word or two ere the servant announcedCaptain Walter Butler, and I turned curiously, to see a dark, gracefulyoung man enter and stand for a moment staring haughtily straight at me. He wore a very elegant black-and-orange uniform, without gorget; a blackmilitary cloak hung from his shoulders, caught up in his sword-knot. 

With a quick movement he raised his hand and removed his officer's hat, and I saw on his gauntlets of fine doeskin the Ormond arms, heavilyembroidered. Instantly the affectation displeased me. 

"Come to the mountain, brother prophet, " said Sir George, waving hishand towards the seated patroon. He came, lightly as a panther, hisdark, well-cut features softening a trifle; and I thought him handsomein his uniform, wearing his own dark hair unpowdered, tied in a shortqueue; but when he turned full face to greet Sir George Covert, I wasastonished to see the cruelty in his almost perfect features, which weresmooth as a woman's, and lighted by a pair of clear, dark-golden eyes. 

Ah, those wonderful eyes of Walter Butler--ever-changing eyes, nowalmost black, glimmering with ardent fire, now veiled and amber, nowsuddenly a shallow yellow, round, staring, blank as the eyes of a cagedeagle; and, still again, piercing, glittering, narrowing to a slit. Terrible mad eyes, that I have never forgotten--never, never can forget. 

As Sir Lupus named me, Walter Butler dropped Sir George's hand andgrasped mine, too eagerly to please me. 

"Ormond and Ormond-Butler need no friends to recommend them each to theother, " he said. And straightway fell a-talking of the greatness of theArrans and the Ormonds, and of that duke who, attainted, fled to Franceto save his neck. 

I strove to be civil, yet he embarrassed me before the others, babblingof petty matters interesting only to those whose taste invites them togo burrowing in parish records and ill-smelling volumes written by sometoad-eater to his patron. 

For me, I am an Ormond, and I know that it would be shameful if I turnedrascal and besmirched my name. As to the rest--the dukes, the glory, thegreatness--I hold it concerns nobody but the dead, and it is afoolishness to plague folks' ears by boasting of deeds done by those younever knew, like a Seminole chanting ere he strikes the painted post. 

Also, this Captain Walter Butler was overlarding his phrases with"Cousin Ormond, " so that I was soon cloyed, and nigh ready to damn therelationship to his face. 

Sir Lupus, who had managed to rise by this time, waddled off into thedrawing-room across the hallway, motioning us to follow; and barely intime, too, for there came, shortly, Sir John Johnson with a company ofladies and gentlemen, very gay in their damasks, brocades, and velvets, which the folds of their foot-mantles, capuchins, and cardinalsrevealed. 

The gentlemen had come a-horseback, and all wore very elegant uniformsunder their sober cloaks, which were linked with gold chains at thethroat; the ladies, prettily powdered and patched, appeared a trifleover-colored, and their necks and shoulders, innocent of buffonts, gleamed pearl-tinted above their gay breast-knots. And they made asparkling bevy as they fluttered up the staircase to their cloak-room, while Sir John entered the drawing-room, followed by the othergentlemen, and stood in careless conversation with the patroon, whileold Cato disembarrassed him of cloak and hat. 

Sir John Johnson, son of the great Sir William, as I first saw him was aman of less than middle age, flabby, cold-eyed, heavy of foot and hand. On his light-colored hair he wore no powder; the rather long queue wastied with a green hair-ribbon; the thick, whitish folds of his doublechin rested on a buckled stock. 

For the rest, he wore a green-and-gold uniform of very elegantcut--green being the garb of his regiment, the Royal Greens, as Ilearned afterwards--and his buff-topped boots and his metals werebrilliant and plainly new. 

When the patroon named me to him he turned his lack-lustre eyes on meand offered me a large, damp hand. 

In turn I was made acquainted with the several officers in hissuite--Colonel John Butler, father of Captain Walter Butler, broad andsquat, a withered prophecy of what the son might one day be; ColonelDaniel Claus, a rather merry and battered Indian fighter; Colonel GuyJohnson, of Guy Park, dark and taciturn; a Captain Campbell, and aCaptain McDonald of Perth. 

All wore the green uniform save the Butlers; all greeted me withparticular civility and conducted like the respectable company theyappeared to be, politely engaging me in pleasant conversation, desiringnews from Florida, or complimenting me upon my courtesy, which, theyvowed, had alone induced me to travel a thousand miles for the sake ofpermitting my kinsmen the pleasure of welcoming me. 

One by one the gentlemen retired to exchange their spurred top-boots forwhite silk stockings and silken pumps, and to arrange their hair orstick a patch here and there, and rinse their hands in rose-water tocleanse them of the bridle's odor. 

They were still thronging the gun-room, and I stood alone in thedrawing-room with Sir George Covert, when a lady entered and courtesiedlow as we bowed together. 

And truly she was a beauty, with her skin of rose-ivory, her powderedhair a-gleam with brilliants, her eyes of purest violet, a friendlysmile hovering on her fresh, scarlet mouth. 

"Well, sir, " she said, "do you not know me?" And to Sir George: "I vow, he takes me for a guest in my own house!"

And then I knew my cousin Dorothy Varick. 

[Illustration: "SHE SUFFERED US TO SALUTE HER HAND". ]

She suffered us to salute her hand, gazing the while about herindifferently; and, as I released her slender fingers and raised myhead, she, rounded arm still extended as though forgotten, snapped herthumb and forefinger together in vexation with a "Plague on it! There'sthat odious Sir John!"

"Is Sir John Johnson so offensive to your ladyship?" inquired SirGeorge, lazily. 

"Offensive! Have you not heard how the beast drank wine from my slipper!Never mind! I cannot endure him. Sir George, you must sit by me attable--and you, too, Cousin Ormond, or he'll come bothering. " Sheglanced at the open door of the gun-room, a frown on her white brow. "Oh, they're all here, I see. Sparks will fly ere sun-up. There'sCampbell, and McDonald, too, wi' the memory of Glencoe still stewingbetwixt them; and there's Guy Johnson, with a price on his head--andplenty to sell it for him in County Tryon, gentlemen! And there's youngWalter Butler, cursing poor Cato that he touched his spur in drawing offhis boots--if he strikes Cato I'll strike him! And where are their fineladies, Sir George? Still primping at the mirror? Oh, la!" She steppedback, laughing, raising her lovely arms a little. "Look at me. Am I welllaced, with nobody to aid me save Cecile, poor child, and Benny to holdthe candles--he being young enough for the office?"

"Happy, happy Benny!" murmured Sir George, inspecting her through hisquizzing-glass from head to toe. 

"If you think it a happy office you may fill it yourself in future, SirGeorge, " she said. "I never knew an ass who failed to bray in ecstasy atmention of a pair o' stays. "

Sir George stared, and said, "Aha! clever--very, very clever!" in sopatronizing a tone that Dorothy reddened and bit her lip in vexation. 

"That is ever your way, " she said, "when I parry you to your confusion. Take your eyes from me, Sir George! Cousin Ormond, am I dressed to yourtaste or not?"

She stood there in her gown of brocade, beautifully flowered in peachcolor, dainty, confident, challenging me to note one fault. Nor could I, from the gold hair-pegs in her hair to the tip of her slim, pompadourshoes peeping from the lace of her petticoat, which she lifted a trifleto show her silken, flowered hose. 

And--"There!" she cried, "I gowned myself, and I wear no paint. I wishyou would tell them as much when they laugh at me. "

Now came the ladies, rustling down the stairway, and the gentlemen, strolling in from their toilet and stirrup-cups in the gun-room, and Inoted that all wore service-swords, and laid their pistols on the tablein the drawing-room. 

"Do they fear a surprise?" I whispered to Sir George Covert. 

"Oh yes; Jack Mount and the Stoners are abroad. But Sir John has a troopof his cut-throat horsemen picketed out around us. You see, Sir Johnbroke his parole, and Walter Butler is attainted, and it might go hardwith some of these gentlemen if General Schuyler's dragoons caught themhere, plotting nose to nose. "

"Who is this Jack Mount?" I asked, curiously, remembering my companionof the Albany road. 

"One of Cresap's riflemen, " he drawled, "sent back here from Boston toraise the country against the invasion. They say he was a highwaymanonce, but we Tories"--he laughed shamelessly--"say many things in thesedays which may not help us at the judgment day. Wait, there's thatlittle rosebud, Claire Putnam, Sir John's flame. Take her in to table;she's a pretty little plaything. Lady Johnson, who was Polly Watts, isin Montreal, you see. " He made a languid gesture with outspreadhands, smiling. 

The girl he indicated, Mistress Claire Putnam, was a fragile, willowycreature, over-thin, perhaps, yet wonderfully attractive and pretty, andthere was much of good in her face, and a tinge of pathos, too, for allher bright vivacity. 

"If Sir John Johnson put her away when he wedded Miss Watts, " said SirGeorge, coolly, "I think he did it from interest and selfishcalculation, not because he ceased to love her in his bloodless, fishyfashion. And now that Lady Johnson has fled to Canada, Sir John makesno pretence of hiding his amours in the society which he haunts; nordoes that society take umbrage at the notorious relationship soimpudently renewed. We're a shameless lot, Mr. Ormond. "

At that moment I heard Sir John Johnson, at my elbow, saying to SirLupus: "Do you know what these damned rebels have had the impudence todo? I can scarce credit it myself, but it is said that their Congresshas adopted a flag of thirteen stripes and thirteen stars on a bluefield, and I'm cursed if I don't believe they mean to hoist the filthyrag in our very faces!"

V

A NIGHT AT THE PATROON'S

Under a flare of yellow candle-light we entered the dining-hall andseated ourselves before a table loaded with flowers and silver, and themost beautiful Flemish glass that I have ever seen; though they say thatSir William Johnson's was finer. 

The square windows of the hall were closed, the dusty curtains closelydrawn; the air, though fresh, was heavily saturated with perfume. Between each window, and higher up, small, square loop-holes pierced thesolid walls. The wooden flap-hoods of these were open; through thempoured the fresh night air, stirring the clustered flowers and thejewelled aigrets in the ladies' hair. 

The spectacle was pretty, even beautiful; at every lady's cover lay agift from the patroon, a crystal bosom-glass, mounted in silverfiligree, filled with roses in scented water; and, at the sight, a gustof hand-clapping swept around the table, like the rattle of Decemberwinds through dry palmettos. 

In a distant corner, slaves, dressed fancifully and turbaned likeBarbary blackamoors, played on fiddles and guitars, and the music wassuch as I should have enjoyed, loving all melody as I do, yet couldscarcely hear it in the flutter and chatter rising around me as theladies placed the bosom-bottles in their stomachers and opened theirMarlborough fans to set them waving all like restless wings. 

Yet, under this surface elegance and display, one could scarcely choosebut note how everywhere an amazing shiftlessness reigned in thepatroon's house. Cobwebs canopied the ceiling-beams with their silvery, ragged banners afloat in the candle's heat; dust, like a velvet mantle, lay over the Dutch plates and teapots, ranged on shelves against thepanelled wall midway 'twixt ceiling and unwaxed floor; the gaudy yellowliveries of the black servants were soiled and tarnished and illfitting, and all wore slovenly rolls, tied to imitate scratch-wigs, theeffect of which was amazing. The passion for cleanliness in the Dutchlies not in their men folk; a Dutch mistress of this manor house haddied o' shame long since--or died o' scrubbing. 

I felt mean and ungracious to sit there spying at my host's table, andstrove to forget it, yet was forced to wipe furtively spoon and forkupon the napkin on my knees ere I durst acquaint them with my mouth; andso did others, as I saw; but they did it openly and without pretence ofconcealment, and nobody took offence. 

Sir Lupus cared nothing for precedence at table, and said so when heseated us, which brought a sneer to Sir John Johnson's mouth and a scowlto Walter Butler's brow; but this provincial boorishness appeared to beforgotten ere the decanters had slopped the cloth twice, and fair facesflushed, and voices grew gayer, and the rattle of silver assaultingchina and the mellow ring of glasses swelled into a steady, melodiousdin which stirred the blood to my cheeks. 

We Ormonds love gayety--I choose the mildest phrase I know. Yet, take usat our worst, Irish that we are, and if there be a taint of license toour revels, and if we drink the devil's toast to the devil's ownundoing, the vital spring of our people remains unpolluted, the nation'sstrength and purity unsoiled, guarded forever by the chastity ofour women. 

Savoring my claret, I glanced askance at my neighbors; on my left sat mycousin Dorothy Varick, frankly absorbed in a roasted pigeon, yetwielding knife and fork with much grace and address; on my rightMagdalen Brant, step-cousin to Sir John, a lovely, soft-voiced girl, with velvety eyes and the faintest dusky tint, which showed the Indianblood through the carmine in her fresh, curved cheeks. 

I started to speak to her, but there came a call from the end of thetable, and we raised our glasses to Sir Lupus, for which civility heexpressed his thanks and gave us the ladies, which we drank standing, and reversed our glasses with a cheer. 

Then Walter Butler gave us "The Ormonds and the Earls of Arran, " anamazing vanity, which shamed me so that I sat biting my lip, furious tosee Sir John wink at Colonel Claus, and itching to fling my glass at thehead of this young fool whose brain seemed cracked with brooding onhis pedigree. 

Meat was served ere I was called on, but later, a delicious Burgundybeing decanted, all called me with a persistent clamor, so that I wasobliged to ask permission of Sir Lupus, then rise, still tingling withthe memory of the silly toast offered by Walter Butler. 

"I give you, " I said, "a republic where self-respect balances thecoronet, where there is no monarch, no high-priest, but only a cleanaltar, served by the parliament of a united people. Gentlemen, raiseyour glasses to the colonies of America and their ancient liberties!"

And, amazed at what I had said, and knowing that I had not meant to sayit, I lifted my glass and drained it. 

Astonishment altered every face. Walter Butler mechanically raised hisglass, then set it down, then raised it once more, gazing blankly at me;and I saw others hesitate, as though striving to recollect the exactterms of my toast. But, after a second's hesitation, all drank sitting. Then each looked inquiringly at me, at neighbors, puzzled, yet alreadypartly reassured. 

"Gad!" said Colonel Claus, bluntly, "I thought at first that Burgundysmacked somewhat of Boston tea. "

"The Burgundy's sound enough, " said Colonel John Butler, grimly. 

"So is the toast, " bawled Sir Lupus. "It's a pacific toast, a soothingsentiment, neither one thing not t'other. Dammy, it's a toast no Quakerneed refuse. "

"Sir Lupus, your permission!" broke out Captain Campbell. "Gentlemen, itis strange that not one of his Majesty's officers has proposed theKing!" He looked straight at me and said, without turning his head: "Allloyal at this table will fill. Ladies, gentlemen, I give you his Majestythe King!"

The toast was finished amid cheers. I drained my glass and turned itdown with a bow to Captain Campbell, who bowed to me as thoughgreatly relieved. 

The fiddles, bassoons, and guitars were playing and the slaves singingwhen the noise of the cheering died away; and I heard Dorothy beside mehumming the air and tapping the floor with her silken shoe, while shemoistened macaroons in a glass of Madeira and nibbled them with serenesatisfaction. 

"You appear to be happy, " I whispered. 

"Perfectly. I adore sweets. Will you try a dish of cinnamon cake? Sop itin Burgundy; they harmonize to a most heavenly taste. .. . Look atMagdalen Brant, is she not sweet? Her cousin is Molly Brant, old SirWilliam's sweetheart, fled to Canada. .. . She follows this week withBetty Austin, that black-eyed little mischief-maker on Sir John's right, who owes her diamonds to Guy Johnson. La! What a gossip I grow! Butit's county talk, and all know it, and nobody cares save the Albanyblue-noses and the Van Cortlandts, who fall backward with standing toostraight--"

"Dorothy, " I said, sharply, "a blunted innocence is better than none, but it's a pity you know so much!"

"How can I help it?" she asked, calmly, dipping another macaroon intoher glass. 

"It's a pity, all the same, " I said. 

"Dew on a duck's back, my friend, " she observed, serenely. "Cousin, if Iwere fashioned for evil I had been tainted long since. "

She sat up straight and swept the table with a heavy-lidded, insolentglance, eyebrows raised. The cold purity of her profile, the undimmedinnocence, the childish beauty of the curved cheek, touched me to thequick. Ah! the white flower to nourish here amid unconcealed corruption, with petals stainless, with bloom undimmed, with all its exquisitefragrance still fresh and wholesome in an air heavy with wine and theodor of dying roses. 

I looked around me. Guy Johnson, red in the face, was bending tooclosely beside his neighbor, Betty Austin. Colonel Claus talked loudlyacross the table to Captain McDonald, and swore fashionable oaths whichthe gaunt captain echoed obsequiously. Claire Putnam coquetted with herpaddle-stick fan, defending her roses from Sir George Covert, while SirJohn Johnson stared at them in cold disapproval; and I saw MagdalenBrant, chin propped on her clasped hands, close her eyes and breathedeeply while the wine burned her face, setting torches aflame in eithercheek. Later, when I spoke to her, she laughed pitifully, saying thather ears hummed like bee-hives. Then she said that she meant to go, butmade no movement; and presently her dark eyes closed again, and I sawthe fever pulse beating in her neck. 

Some one had overturned a silver basin full of flowers, and a servant, sopping up the water, had brushed Walter Butler so that he flew into apassion and flung a glass at the terrified black, which set Sir Lupuslaughing till he choked, but which enraged me that he should so conductin the presence of his host's daughter. 

Yet if Sir Lupus could not only overlook it, but laugh at it, I, certes, had no right to rebuke what to me seemed a gross insult. 

Toasts flew fast now, and there was a punch in a silver bowl as large asa bushel--and spirits, too, which was strange, seeing that the ladiesremained at table. 

Then Captain Campbell would have all to drink the Royal Greens, standingon chairs, one foot on the table, which appeared to be his regiment'smess custom, and we did so, the ladies laughing and protesting, butfinally planting their dainty shoes on the edge of the table; andMagdalen Brant nigh fell off her chair--for lack of balance, as SirGeorge Covert protested, one foot alone being too small to sustain her. 

"That Cinderella compliment at our expense!" cried Betty Austin, but SirLupus cried: "Silence all, and keep one foot on the table!" And a littleblack slave lad, scarce more than a babe, appeared, dressed in alynx-skin, bearing a basket of pretty boxes woven out of scented grassand embroidered with silk flowers. 

At every corner he laid a box, all exclaiming and wondering what thesurprise might be, until the little black, arching his back, fetched ayowl like a lynx and ran out on all fours. 

"The gentlemen will open the boxes! Ladies, keep one foot on the table!"bawled Sir Lupus. We bent to open the boxes; Magdalen Brant and DorothyVarick, each resting a hand on my shoulder to steady them, peepedcuriously down to see. And, "Oh!" cried everybody, as the liftedbox-lids discovered snow-white pigeons sitting on great gilt eggs. 

The white pigeons fluttered out, some to the table, where they cranedtheir necks and ruffled their snowy plumes; others flapped up to theloop-holes, where they sat and watched us. 

"Break the eggs!" cried the patroon. 

I broke mine; inside was a pair of shoe-roses, each set with a pearl andclasped with a gold pin. 

Betty Austin clapped her hands in delight; Dorothy bent double, tore offthe silken roses from each shoe in turn, and I pinned on the newjewelled roses amid a gale of laughter. 

"A health to the patroon!" cried Sir George Covert, and we gave it witha will, glasses down. Then all settled to our seats once more to hearSir George sing a song. 

A slave passed him a guitar; he touched the strings and sang with goodtaste a song in questionable taste:

 "Jeanneton prend sa fauçille. "

A delicate melody and neatly done; yet the verse--

 "Le deuxième plus habile L'embrassant sous le menton"--

made me redden, and the envoi nigh burned me alivewith blushes, yet was rapturously applauded, and thepatroon fell a-choking with his gross laughter. 

Then Walter Butler would sing, and, I confess, didit well, though the song was sad and the words toomelancholy to please. 

"I know a rebel song, " cried Colonel Claus. "Here, give me that fiddle and I'll fiddle it, dammy if I don't--ay, and sing it, too!"

In a shower of gibes and laughter the fiddle wasfetched, and the Indian fighter seized the bow and drewa most distressful strain, singing in a whining voice:

 "Come hearken to a bloody tale, Of how the soldiery Did murder men in Boston, As you full soon shall see. It came to pass on March the fifth Of seventeen-seventy, A regiment, the twenty-ninth. Provoked a sad affray!"

"Chorus!" shouted Captain Campbell, beating time:

 "Fol-de-rol-de-rol-de-ray-- Provoked a sad affray!"

"That's not in the song!" protested Colonel Claus, but everybody sang itin whining tones. 

"Continue!" cried Captain Campbell, amid a burst of laughter. And Clausgravely drew his fiddle-bow across the strings and sang:

 "In King Street, by the Butcher's Hall The soldiers on us fell, Likewise before their barracks (It is the truth I tell). And such a dreadful carnage In Boston ne'er was known; They killed Samuel Maverick-- He gave a piteous groan. "

And, "Fol-de-rol!" roared Captain Campbell, "He gave a piteous groan!"

"John Clark he was wounded, On him they did fire;James Caldwell and Crispus Attucks Lay bleeding in the mire;Their regiment, the twenty-ninth, Killed Monk and Sam I Gray, While Patrick Carr lay cold in death And could not flee away--

"Oh, tally!" broke out Sir John; "are we to listen to such stuff allnight?"

More laughter; and Sir George Covert said that he feared Sir JohnJohnson had no sense of humor. 

"I have heard that before, " said Sir John, turning his cold eyes on SirGeorge. "But if we've got to sing at wine, in Heaven's name let us singsomething sensible. "

"No, no!" bawled Claus. "This is the abode of folly to-night!" And hesang a catch from "Pills to Purge Melancholy, " as broad a verse as Icared to hear in such company. 

"Cheer up, Sir John!" cried Betty Austin; "there are other slippers todrink from--"

Sir John stood up, exasperated, but could not face the storm oflaughter, nor could Dorothy, silent and white in her anger; and she roseto go, but seemed to think better of it and resumed her seat, disdainfuleyes sweeping the table. 

"Face the fools, " I whispered. "Your confusion is their victory. "

Captain McDonald, stirring the punch, filled all glasses, crying outthat we should drink to our sweethearts in bumpers. 

"Drink 'em in wine, " protested Captain Campbell, thickly. "Who but afeckless McDonald wud drink his leddy in poonch?"

"I said poonch!" retorted McDonald, sternly. "If ye wish wine, drink it;but I'm thinkin' the Argyle Campbells are better judges o' blood thanof red wine. 

"Stop that clan-feud!" bawled the patroon, angrily. 

But the old clan-feud blazed up, kindled from the ever-smoulderingembers of Glencoe, which the massacre of a whole clan had notextinguished in all these years. 

"And why should an Argyle Campbell judge blood?" cried Captain Campbell, in a menacing voice. 

"And why not?" retorted McDonald. "Breadalbane spilled enough to teachye. "

"Teach who?"

"Teach you!--and the whole breed o' black Campbells from Perth to Galwayand Fonda's Bush, which ye dub Broadalbin. I had rather be a Monteithand have the betrayal of Wallace cast in my face than be a Campbell ofArgyle wi' the memory o' Glencoe to follow me to hell. "

"Silence!" roared the patroon, struggling to his feet. Sir George Covertcaught at Captain Campbell's sleeve as he rose; Sir John Johnson stoodup, livid with anger. 

"Let this end now!" he said, sternly. "Do officers of the Royal Greensconduct like yokels at a fair? Answer me, Captain Campbell! And you, Captain McDonald! Take your seat, sir; and if I hear that cursed word'Glencoe' 'again, the first who utters it faces a court-martial!"

Partly sobered, the Campbell glared mutely at the McDonald; the latteralso appeared to have recovered a portion of his senses and resumed hisseat in silence, glowering at the empty glasses before him. 

"Now be sensible, gentlemen, " said Colonel Claus, with a jovial nod tothe patroon; "let pass, let pass. This is no time to raise the fierycross in the hills. Gad, there's a new pibroch to march to these days--

 "Pibroch o' Hirokôue! Pibroch o' Hirokônue!"

he hummed, deliberately, but nobody laughed, and the grave, pale facesof the women turned questioningly one to the other. 

Enemies or allies, there was terror in the name of "Iroquois. " ButWalter Butler looked up from his gloomy meditation and raised his glasswith a ghastly laugh. 

"I drink to our red allies, " he said, slowly drained his glass till buta color remained in it, then dipped his finger in the dregs and drewupon the white table-cloth a blood-red cross. 

"There's your clan-sign, you Campbells, you McDonalds, " he said, with aterrifying smile which none could misinterpret. 

Then Sir George Covert said: "Sir William Johnson knew best. Had helived, there had been no talk of the Iroquois as allies or as enemies. "

I said, looking straight at Walter Butler: "Can there be any serioustalk of turning these wild beasts loose against the settlers ofTryon County?"

"Against rebels, " observed Sir John Johnson, coldly. "No loyal man needfear our Mohawks. "

A dead silence followed. Servants, clearing the round table of silver, flowers, cloth--all, save glasses and decanters--stepped noiselessly, and I knew the terror of the Iroquois name had sharpened their dullears. Then came old Cato, tricked out in flame-colored plush, bearingthe staff of major-domo; and the servants in their tarnished liveriesmarshalled behind him and filed out, leaving us seated before a baretable, with only our glasses and bottles to break the expanse ofpolished mahogany and soiled cloth. 

Captain McDonald rose, lifted the steaming kettle from the hob, and setit on a great, blue tile, and the gentlemen mixed their spiritsthoughtfully, or lighted long, clay pipes. 

The patroon, wreathed in smoke, lay back in his great chair and rattledhis toddy-stick for attention--an unnecessary noise, for all werewatching him, and even Walter Butler's gloomy gaze constantly revertedto that gross, red face, almost buried in thick tobacco-smoke, like thehead of some intemperate and grotesquely swollen Jupiter crownedwith clouds. 

The plea of the patroon for neutrality in the war now sweeping towardsthe Mohawk Valley I had heard before. So, doubtless, had those present. 

He waxed pathetic over the danger to his vast estate; he pointed out theconservative attitude of the great patroons and lords of the manors ofLivingston, Cosby, Phillipse, Van Rensselaer, and Van Cortlandt. 

"What about Schuyler?" I asked. 

"Schuyler's a fool!" he retorted, angrily. "Any landed proprietor herecan become a rebel general in exchange for his estate! A fine bargain! Athrifty dicker! Let Philip Schuyler enjoy his brief reign in Albany. What's the market value of the glory he exchanged for his broad acres?Can you appraise it, Sir John?"

Then Sir John Johnson arose, and, for the only moment in his career, hestood upon a principle--a fallacious one, but still a principle; and forthat I respected him, and have never quite forgotten it, even throughthe terrible years when he razed and burned and murdered among a peoplewho can never forget the red atrocities of his devastations. 

Glancing slowly around the table, with his pale, cold eyes contractingin the candle's glare, he spoke in a voice absolutely passionless, yetwhich carried the conviction to all that what he uttered washopelessly final:

"Sir Lupus complains that he hazards all, should he cast his fortuneswith his King. Yet I have done that thing. I am to-day a man with aprice set on my head by these rebels of my own country. My lands, if notalready confiscated by rebel commissioners, are occupied by rebels; mymanor-houses, my forts, my mills, my tenants' farms are held by therebels and my revenues denied me. I was confined on parole within thelimits of Johnson Hall. They say I broke my parole, but they lie. It wasonly when I had certain news that the Boston rebels were coming to seizemy person and violate a sacred convention that I retired to Canada. "

He paused. The explanation was not enough to satisfy me, and I expectedhim to justify the arming of Johnson Hall and his discovered intrigueswith the Mohawks which set the rebels on the march to seize his person. He gave none, resuming quietly:

"I have hazarded a vast estate, vaster than yours, Sir Lupus, greaterthan the estates of all these gentlemen combined. I do it because I oweobedience to the King who has honored me, and for no other reason onearth. Yet I do it in fullest confidence and belief that my lands willbe restored to me when this rebellion is stamped on and trodden out tothe last miserable spark. "

He hesitated, wiped his thin mouth with his laced handkerchief, andturned directly towards the patroon. 

"You ask me to remain neutral. You promise me that, even at this latehour, my surrender and oath of neutrality will restore me my estates andguarantee me a peaceful, industrious life betwixt two tempests. It maybe so, Sir Lupus. I think it would be so. But, my friend, to fail myKing when he has need of me is a villainy I am incapable of. Thefortunes of his Majesty are my fortunes; I stand or fall with him. Thisis my duty as I see it. And, gentlemen, I shall follow it while lifeendures. "

He resumed his seat amid absolute silence. Presently the patroon raisedhis eyes and looked at Colonel John Butler. 

"May we hear from you, sir?" he asked, gravely. 

"I trust that all may, one day, hear from Butler's Rangers, " he said. 

"And I swear they shall, " broke in Walter Butler, his dark eyes burninglike golden coals. 

"I think the Royal Greens may make some little noise in the world, " saidCaptain Campbell, with an oath. 

Guy Johnson waved his thin, brown hand towards the patroon: "I hold myKing's commission as intendant of Indian affairs for North America. Thatis enough for me. Though they rob me of Guy Park and every acre, I shallredeem my lands in a manner no man can ever forget!"

"Gentlemen, " added Colonel Claus, in his bluff way, "you all make greatmerit of risking property and life in this wretched teapot tempest; youall take credit for unchaining the Mohawks. But you give them no credit. What have the Iroquois to gain by aiding us? Why do they dig up thehatchet, hazarding the only thing they have--their lives? Because theyare led by a man who told the rebel Congress that the covenant chainwhich the King gave to the Mohawks is still unspotted by dishonor, unrusted by treachery, unbroken, intact, without one link missing!Gentlemen, I give you Joseph Brant, war-chief of the Mohawknation! Hiro!"

All filled and drank--save three--Sir George Covert, Dorothy Varick, andmyself. 

I felt Walter Butler's glowing eyes upon me, and they seemed to burn outthe last vestige of my patience. 

"Don't rise! Don't speak now!" whispered Dorothy, her hand closing on myarm. 

"I must speak, " I said, aloud, and all heard me and turned on me theirfevered eyes. 

"Speak out, in God's name!" said Sir George Covert, and I rose, repeating, "In God's name, then!"

"Give no offence to Walter Butler, I beg of you, " whispered Dorothy. 

I scarcely heard her; through the candle-light I saw the ring of eyesshining, all watching me. 

"I applaud the loyal sentiments expressed by Sir John Johnson, " I said, slowly. "Devotion to principle is respected by all men of honor. Theytell me that our King has taxed a commonwealth against its will. Youadmit his Majesty's right to do so. That ranges you on one side. Gentlemen, " I said, deliberately, "I deny the right of Englishmen totake away the liberties of Englishmen. That ranges me on theother side. "

A profound silence ensued. The ring of eyes glowed. 

"And now, " said I, gravely, "that we stand arrayed, each on his properside, honestly, loyally differing one from the other, let us, if we can, strive to avert a last resort to arms. And if we cannot, let us drawhonorably, and trust to God and a stainless blade!"

I bent my eyes on Walter Butler; he met them with a vacant glare. 

"Captain Butler, " I said, "if our swords be to-day stainless, he whofirst dares employ a savage to do his work forfeits the right to bearthe arms and title of a soldier. "

"Mr. Ormond! Mr. Ormond!" broke in Colonel Claus. "Do you impeach LordGeorge Germaine?"

"I care not whom I impeach!" I said, hotly. "If Lord George Germainecounsels the employment of Indians against Englishmen, rebels thoughthey be, he is a monstrous villain and a fool!"

"Fool!" shouted Colonel Campbell, choking with rage. "He'd be a fool tolet these rebels win over the Iroquois before we did!"

"What rebel has sought to employ the Indians?" I asked. "If any inauthority have dreamed of such a horror, they are guilty as thoughalready judged and damned!"

"Mr. Ormond, " cut in Guy Johnson, fairly trembling with fury, "you dealvery freely in damnation. Do you perhaps assume the divine right whichyou deny your King?"

"And do you find merit in crass treason, sir?" burst out McDonald, striking the table with clinched fist. 

"Treason, " cut in Sir John Johnson, "was the undoing of a certain nobleduke in Queen Anne's time. "

"You are in error, " I said, calmly. 

"Was James, Duke of Ormond, not impeached by Mr. Stanhope in openParliament?" shouted Captain McDonald. 

"The House of Commons, " I replied, calmly, "dishonored itself and itstraditions by bringing a bill of attainder against the Duke of Ormond. That could not make him a traitor. "

"He was not a traitor, " broke out Walter Butler, white to the lips, "butyou are!"

"A lie, " I said. 

With the awful hue of death stamped on his face, Walter Butler rose andfaced me; and though they dragged us to our seats, shouting andexclaiming in the uproar made by falling chairs and the rush of feet, hestill kept his eyes on me, shallow, yellow, depthless, terrible eyes. 

"A nice scene to pass in women's presence!" roared the patroon. "Dammy, Captain Butler, the fault lies first with you! Withdraw that word'traitor, ' which touches us all!"

"He has so named himself, " said Walter Butler, "Withdraw it! You foulyour own nest, sir!"

A moment passed. "I withdraw it, " motioned Butler, with parched lips. 

"Then I withdraw the lie, " I said, watching him. 

"That is well, " roared the patroon. "That is as it should be. Shallkinsmen quarrel at such a time? Offer your hand, Captain Butler. Offeryours, George. "

"No, " I said, and gazed mildly at the patroon. 

Sir George Covert rose and sauntered over to my chair. Under cover ofthe hubbub, not yet subsided, he said: "I fancy you will shortly requirea discreet friend. "

"Not at all, sir, " I replied, aloud. "If the war spares Mr. Butler andmyself, then I shall call on you. I've another quarrel first. " Allturned to look at me, and I added, "A quarrel touching the liberties ofEnglishmen. " Sir John Johnson sneered, and it was hard to swallow, beingthe sword-master that I am. 

But the patroon broke out furiously. "Mr. Ormond honors himself. If anyhere so much as looks the word 'coward, ' he will answer to me--old andfat as I am! I've no previous engagement; I care not who prevails, Kingor Congress. I care nothing so they leave me my own! I'm free to resenta word, a look, a breath--ay, the flutter of a lid, Sir John!"

"Thanks, uncle, " I said, touched to the quick. "These gentlemen are notfools, and only a fool could dream an Ormond coward. "

"Ay, a fool!" cried Walter Butler. "I am an Ormond! There is nocowardice in the blood. He shall have his own time; he is an Ormond!"

Dorothy Varick raised her bare, white arm and pointed straight at WalterButler. "See that your sword remains unspotted, sir, " she said, in aclear voice. "For if you hire the Iroquois to do your work you standdishonored, and no true man will meet you on the field you forfeit!"

"What's that?" cried Sir John, astonished, and Sir George Covert cried:

"Brava! Bravissima! There speaks the Ormond through the Varick!"

Walter Butler leaned forward, staring at me. "You refuse to meet me if Iuse our Mohawks?"

And Dorothy, her voice trembling a little, picked up the word from hisgrinning teeth. "Mohawks understand the word 'honor' better than do you, Captain Butler, if you are found fighting in their ranks!"

She laid her hand on my arm, still facing him. 

"My cousin shall not cross blade with a soiled blade! He dare not--ifonly for my own poor honor's sake!"

Then Colonel Claus rose, thumping violently on the table, and, "Here's apretty rumpus!" he bawled, "with all right and all wrong, and nobody tosnuff out the spreading flame, but every one a-flinging tallow in a firewe all may rue! My God! Are we not all kinsmen here, gathered to decentcouncil how best to save our bacon in this pot a-boiling over? If Mr. Ormond and Captain Butler must tickle sword-points one day, that is nocause for dolorous looks or hot words--no! Rather is it a family trick, a good, old-fashioned game that all boys play, and no harm, either. HaveI not played it, too? Has any gentleman present not pinked or beenpinked on that debatable land we call the field of honor? Come, kinsmen, we have all had too much wine--or too little. "

"Too little!" protested Captain Campbell, with a forced laugh; and BettyAustin loosed her tongue for the first time to cry out that her mouthwas parched wi' swallowing so many words all piping-hot. Whereat one ortwo laughed, and Colonel John Butler said:

Neither Mr. Ormond nor Sir George Covert are rebels. They differ from usin this matter touching on the Iroquois. If they think we soil our handswith war-paint, let them keep their own wristbands clean, but fight fortheir King as sturdily as shall we this time next month. "

"That is a very pleasant view to take, " observed Sir George, with asmile. 

"A sensible view, " suggested Campbell. 

"Amiable, " said Sir George, blandly. 

"Oh, let us fill to the family!" broke in McDonald, impatiently. "It'sdry work cursing your friends! Fill up, Campbell, and I'll forgetGlencoe . .. While I'm drinking. "

"Mr. Ormond, " said Walter Butler, in a low voice, "I cannot credit illof a man of your name. You are young and hot-blooded, and you perhapslack as yet a capacity for reflection. I shall look for you among uswhen the time comes. No Ormond can desert his King. "

"Let it rest so, Captain Butler, " I said, soberly. "I will say this:when I rose I had not meant to say all that I said. But I believe it tobe the truth, though I chose the wrong moment to express it. If I changethis belief I will say so. "

And so the outburst of passion sank to ashes; and if the fire was notwholly extinguished, it at least lay covered, like the heart of aSeminole council-fire after the sachems have risen and departed withcovered heads. 

Drinking began again. The ladies gathered in a group, whispering andlaughing their relief at the turn affairs were taking--all save Dorothy, who sat serenely beside me, picking the kernels from walnut-shells andsipping a glass of port. 

Sir John Johnson found a coal in the embers on the hearth, and, leaninghalf over the table, began to draw on the table-cloth a rude map ofTryon County. 

"All know, " he said, "that the province of New York is the key to therebel strength. While they hold West Point and Albany and Stanwix, theyhold Tryon County by the throat. Let them occupy Philadelphia. Whocares? We can take it when we choose. Let them hold their dirty Boston;let the rebel Washington sneak around the Jerseys. Who cares? There'llbe the finer hunting for us later. Gentlemen, as you know, the invasionof New York is at hand--has already begun. And that's no secret from therebels, either; they may turn and twist and double here in New Yorkprovince, but they can't escape the trap, though they saw it long ago. "

He raised his head and glanced at me. 

"Here is a triangle, " he said; "that triangle is New York province. Hereis Albany, the objective of our three armies, the gate of Tryon County, the plague-spot we are to cleanse, and the military centre. Now mark!Burgoyne moves through the lakes, south, reducing Ticonderoga andEdward, routing the rats out of Saratoga, and approaches Albany--so. Clinton moves north along the Hudson to meet him--so--forcing theHighlands at Peekskill, taking West Point or leaving it for laterpunishment. Nothing can stop him; he meets Burgoyne here, at Albany. "

Again he looked at me. "You see, sir, that from two angles of thetriangle converging armies depart towards a common objective. "

"I see, " I said. 

"Now, " he resumed, "the third force, under Colonel Barry St. Leger--towhich my regiment and the regiment of Colonel Butler have the honor tobe attached--embarks from Canada, sails up the St. Lawrence, disembarksat Oswego, on Lake Erie, marches straight on Stanwix, reduces it, andjoins the armies of Clinton and Burgoyne at Albany. "

He stood up, casting his bit of wood-coal on the cloth before him. 

"That, sir, " he said to me, "is the plan of campaign, which the rebelsknow and cannot prevent. That means the invasion of New York, thescouring out of every plague-spot, the capture and destruction of everyrebel between Albany and the Jerseys. "

He turned with a cold smile to Colonel Butler. "I think my estates willnot remain long in rebel hands, " he said. 

"Do you not understand, Mr. Ormond?" cried Captain Campbell, twitchingme by the sleeve, an impertinence I passed, considering him overflushedwith wine. "Do you not comprehend how hopeless is this rebellion now?"

"How hopeless?" drawled Sir George, looking over my shoulder, and, asthough by accident, drawing Campbell's presumptuous hand through hisown arm. 

"How hopeless?" echoed Campbell. "Why, here are three armies of hisMajesty's troops concentrating on the heart of Tryon County. What canthe rebels do?"

"The patroons are with us, or have withdrawn from the contest, " said SirJohn; "the great folk, military men, and we of the landed gentry are forthe King. What remains to defy his authority?"

"Of what kidney are these Tryon County men?" I asked, quietly. Sir JohnJohnson misunderstood me. 

"Mr. Ormond, " said Sir John, "Tryon County is habited by four races. First, the Scotch-Irish, many of them rebels, I admit, but many alsoloyal. Balance these against my Highlanders, and cross quits. Second, the Palatines--those men whose ancestors came hither to escape thearmies of Louis XIV. When they devastated the Palatinate. And again Iadmit these to be rebels. Third, those of Dutch blood, descended frombrave ancestors, like our worthy patroon here. And once more I willadmit that many of these also are tainted with rebel heresies. Fourth, the English, three-quarters of whom are Tories. And now I ask you, canthese separate handfuls of mixed descent unite? And, if that werepossible, can they stand for one day, one hour, against the trainedtroops of England?"

"God knows, " I said. 

VI

DAWN

I had stepped from the dining-hall out to the gun-room. Clocks in thehouse were striking midnight. In the dining-room the company had nowtaken to drinking in earnest, cheering and singing loyal songs, andthrough the open door whirled gusts of women's laughter, and I heard thethud of guitar-strings echo the song's gay words. 

All was cool and dark in the body of the house as I walked to the frontdoor and opened it to bathe my face in the freshening night. I heard thewhippoorwill in the thicket, and the drumming of the dew on the porchroof, and far away a sound like ocean stirring--the winds in the pines. 

The Maker of all things has set in me a love for whatsoever He hasfashioned in His handiwork, whether it be furry beast or pretty bird, ora spray of April willow, or the tiny insect-creature that pursues itsdumb, blind way through this our common world. So come I by my love forthe voices of the night, and the eyes of the stars, and the whisper ofgrowing things, and the spice in the air where, unseen, a million tinyblossoms hold up white cups for dew, or for the misty-winged things thatwoo them for their honey. 

Now, in the face of this dark, soothing truce that we call night, whichis a buckler interposed between the arrows of two angry suns, I stoodthinking of war and the wrong of it. And all around me in the darknessinsects sang, and delicate, gauzy creatures chirked and throbbed andstrummed in cadence, while the star's light faintly silvered the stilltrees, and distant monotones of the forest made a sustained and steadyrushing sound like the settling ebb of shallow seas. That to myconscience I stood committed, I could not doubt. I must draw sword, anddraw it soon, too--not for Tory or rebel, not for King or Congress, notfor my estates nor for my kin, but for the ancient liberties ofEnglishmen, which England menaced to destroy. 

That meant time lost in a return to my own home; and yet--why? Here inthis county of Tryon one might stand for liberty of thought and actionas stanchly as at home. Here was a people with no tie or sympathy toweld them save that common love of liberty--a scattered handful ofraces, without leaders, without resources, menaced by three armies, menaced, by the five nations of the great confederacy--the Iroquois. 

To return to the sea islands on the Halifax and fight for my own acreswas useless if through New York the British armies entered to the heartof the rebellion, splitting the thirteen colonies with a flaming wedge. 

At home I had no kin to defend; my elder brother had sailed to England, my superintendent, my overseers, my clerks were all Tory; my slaveswould join the Minorcans or the blacks in Georgia, and I, single-handed, could not lift a finger to restrain them. 

But here, in the dire need of Tryon County, I might be of use. Here wasthe very forefront of battle where, beyond the horizon, invasion, uncoiling hydra folds, already raised three horrid, threatening crests. 

Ugh!--the butcher's work that promised if the Iroquois were uncaged! Itmade me shudder, for I knew something of that kind of war, having seen aslight service against the Seminoles in my seventeenth year, andagainst the Chehaws and Tallassies a few months later. Also in Novemberof 1775 I accompanied Governor Tonyn to Picolata, but when I learnedthat our mission was the shameful one of securing the Indians as Britishallies I resigned my captaincy in the Royal Rangers and returned to theHalifax to wait and watch events. 

And now, thoughtful, sad, wondering a little how it all would end, Ipaced to and fro across the porch. The steady patter of the dew was likethe long roll beating--low, incessant, imperious--and my heart leapedresponsive to the summons, till I found myself standing rigid, staringinto the darkness with fevered eyes. 

The smothered, double drumming of a guitar from the distant revelassailed my ears, and a fresh, sweet voice, singing:

 "As at my door I chanced to be A-spinning, Spinning, A grenadier he winked at me A-grinning, Grinning! As at my door I chanced to be A grenadier he winked at me. And now my song's begun, you see!

 "My grenadier he said to me. So jolly, Jolly, 'We tax the tea, but love is free, Sweet Molly, Molly!' My grenadier he said to me, 'We tax the tea, but love is free!' And so my song it ends, you see, In folly, Folly!"

I listened angrily; the voice was Dorothy Varick's, and I wondered thatshe had the heart to sing such foolishness for men whose grip wasalready on her people's throats. 

In the dining-hall somebody blew the view-halloo on a hunting-horn, andI heard cheers and the dulled roar of a chorus:

"--Rally your men!Campbell and Cameron, Fox-hunting gentlemen, Follow the Jacobite back to his den!Run with the runaway rogue to his runway, Stole-away! Stole-away! Gallop to Galway, Back to Broadalbin and double to Perth;Ride! for the rebel is running to earth!"

And the shrill, fierce Highland cry, "Gralloch him!" echoed the infamouscatch, till the night air rang faintly in the starlight. 

"Cruachan!" shouted Captain Campbell; "the wild myrtle to clan Campbell, the heather to the McDonalds! An't--Arm, chlanna!"

And a great shout answered him: "The army! Sons of the army!"

Sullen and troubled and restless, I paced the porch, and at length satdown on the steps to cool my hot forehead in my hands. 

And as I sat, there came my cousin Dorothy to the porch to look for me, fanning her flushed face with a great, plumy fan, the warm odor of rosesstill clinging to her silken skirts. 

"Have they ended?" I asked, none too graciously. 

"They are beginning, " she said, with a laugh, then drew a deep breathand waved her fan slowly. "Ah, the sweet May night!" she murmured, eyesfixed on the north star. "Can you believe that men could dream of warin this quiet paradise of silence?"

I made no answer, and she went on, fanning her hot cheeks: "They're offto Oswego by dawn, the whole company, gallant and baggage. " She laughedwickedly. "I don't mean their ladies, cousin. "

"How could you?" I protested, grimly. 

"Their wagons, " she said, "started to-day at sundown from Tribes Hill;Sir John, the Butlers, and the Glencoe gentlemen follow at dawn. Thereare post-chaises for the ladies out yonder, and an escort, too. Butnobody would stop them; they're as safe as Catrine Montour. "

"Dorothy, who is this Catrine Montour?" I asked. 

"A woman, cousin; a terrible hag who runs through the woods, and nonedare stop her. "

"A real hag? You mean a ghost?"

"No, no; a real hag, with black locks hanging, and long arms that couldchoke an ox. "

"Why does she run through the woods?" I asked, amused. 

"Why? Who knows? She is always seen running. "

"Where does she run to?"

"I don't know. Once Henry Stoner, the hunter, followed her, and they sayno one but Jack Mount can outrun him; but she ran and ran, and he afterher, till the day fell down, and he fell gasping like a foundered horse. But she ran on. "

"Oh, tally, " I said; "do you believe that?"

"Why, I know it is true, " she replied, ceasing her fanning to stare atme with calm, wide eyes. "Do you doubt it?"

"How can I?" said I, laughing. "Who is this busy hag, Catrine Montour?"

"They say, " said Dorothy, waving her fan thoughtfully, "that her fatherwas that Count Frontenac who long ago governed the Canadas, and that hermother was a Huron woman. Many believe her to be a witch. I don't know. Milk curdles in the pans when she is running through the forest . .. Theysay. Once it rained blood on our front porch. "

"Those red drops fall from flocks of butterflies, " I said, laughing. "Ihave seen red showers in Florida. "

"I should like to be sure of that, " said Dorothy, musing. Then, raisingher starry eyes, she caught me laughing. 

"Tease me, " she smiled. "I don't care. You may even make love to me ifyou choose. "

"Make love to you!" I repeated, reddening. 

"Why not? It amuses--and you're only a cousin. "

Astonishment was followed by annoyance as she coolly disqualified mewith a careless wave of her fan, wafting the word "cousin" into myvery teeth. 

"Suppose I paid court to you and gained your affections?" I said. 

"You have them, " she replied, serenely. 

"I mean your heart?"

"You have it. "

"I mean your--love, Dorothy?"

"Ah, " she said, with a faint smile, "I wish you could--I wish somebodycould. "

I was silent. 

"And I never shall love; I know it, I feel it--here!" She pressed herside with a languid sigh that nigh set me into fits o' laughter, yet Iswallowed my mirth till it choked me, and looked at the stars. 

"Perhaps, " said I, "the gentle passion might be awakened withpatience . .. And practice. "

"Ah, no, " she said. 

"May I touch your hand?"

Indolently fanning, she extended her fingers. I took them in my hands. 

"I am about to begin, " I said. 

"Begin, " she said. 

So, her hand resting in mine, I told her that she had robbed the skiesand set two stars in violets for her eyes; that nature's one miracle waswrought when in her cheeks roses bloomed beneath the snow; that thefrosted gold she called her hair had been spun from December sunbeams, and that her voice was but the melodies stolen from breeze and brook andgolden-throated birds. 

"For all those pretty words, " she said, "love still lies sleeping. "

"Perhaps my arm around your waist--"

"Perhaps. "

"So?"

"Yes. "

And, after a silence:

"Has love stirred?"

"Love sleeps the sounder. "

"And if I touched your lips?"

"Best not. "

"Why?"

"I'm sure that love would yawn. "

Chilled, for unconsciously I had begun to find in this child-play aninterest unexpected, I dropped her unresisting fingers. 

"Upon my word, " I said, almost irritably, "I can believe you when yousay you never mean to wed. "

"But I don't say it, " she protested. 

"What? You have a mind to wed?"

"Nor did I say that, either, " she said, laughing. 

"Then what the deuce do you say?"

"Nothing, unless I'm entreated politely. "

"I entreat you, cousin, most politely, " I said. 

"Then I may tell you that, though I trouble my head nothing as towedlock, I am betrothed. "

"Betrothed!" I repeated, angrily disappointed, yet I could not thinkwhy. 

"Yes--pledged. "

"To whom?"

"To a man, silly. "

"A man!"

"With two legs, two arms, and a head, cousin. "

"You . .. Love him?"

"No, " she said, serenely. "It's only to wed and settle down some day. "

"You don't love him?"

"No, " she repeated, a trifle impatiently. 

"And you mean to wed him?"

"Listen to the boy!" she exclaimed. "I've told him ten times that I ambetrothed, which means a wedding. I am not one of those whobreak paroles. "

"Oh . .. You are now free on parole. "

"Prisoner on parole, " she said, lightly. "I'm to name the day o'punishment, and I promise you it will not be soon. "

"Dorothy, " I said, "suppose in the mean time you fell in love?"

"I'd like to, " she said, sincerely. 

"But--but what would you do then?"

"Love, silly!"

"And . .. Marry?"

"Marry him whom I have promised. "

"But you would be wretched!"

"Why? I can't fancy wedding one I love. I should be ashamed, I think. I--if I loved I should not want the man I loved to touch me--notwith gloves. "

"You little fool!" I said. "You don't know what you say. "

"Yes, I do!" she cried, hotly. "Once there was a captain from Boston; Iadored him. And once he kissed my hand and I hated him!"

"I wish I'd been there, " I muttered. 

She, waving her fan to and fro, continued: "I often think of splendidmen, and, dreaming in the sunshine, sometimes I adore them. But alwaysthese day-dream heroes keep their distance; and we talk and talk, andplan to do great good in the world, until I fall a-napping. .. . Heigho!I'm yawning now. " She covered her face with her fan and leaned backagainst a pillar, crossing her feet. "Tell me about London, " she said. But I knew no more than she. 

"I'd be a belle there, " she observed. "I'd have a train o' beaux andmacaronis at my heels, I warrant you! The foppier, the more it wouldplease me. Think, cousin--ranks of them all a-simper, ogling me througha hundred quizzing-glasses! Heigho! There's doubtless some deviltry inme, as Sir Lupus says. "

She yawned again, looked up at the stars, then fell to twisting her fanwith idle fingers. 

"I suppose, " she said, more to herself than to me, "that Sir John is nowclose to the table's edge, and Colonel Claus is under it. .. . Hark totheir song, all off the key! But who cares?. .. So that they quarrelnot. .. . Like those twin brawlers of Glencoe, . .. Brooding on feuds nigha hundred years old. .. . I have no patience with a brooder, one whotreasures wrongs, . .. Like Walter Butler. " She looked up at me. 

"I warned you, " she said. 

"It is not easy to avoid insulting him, " I replied. 

"I warned you of that, too. Now you've a quarrel, and a reckoning inprospect. "

"The reckoning is far off, " I retorted, ill-humoredly. 

"Far off--yes. Further away than you know. You will never cross swordswith Walter Butler. "

"And why not?"

"He means to use the Iroquois. "

I was silent. 

"For the honor of your women, you cannot fight such a man, " she added, quietly. 

"I wish I had the right to protect your honor, " I said, so suddenly andso bitterly that I surprised myself. 

"Have you not?" she asked, gravely. "I am your kinswoman. "

"Yes, yes, I know, " I muttered, and fell to plucking at the lace on mywristbands. 

The dawn's chill was in the air, the dawn's silence, too, and I saw thecalm morning star on the horizon, watching the dark world--the dark, sadworld, lying so still, so patient, under the ancient sky. 

That melancholy--which is an omen, too--left me benumbed, adrift in asort of pained contentment which alternately soothed and troubled, sothat at moments I almost drowsed, and at moments I heard my heartstirring, as though in dull expectancy of beatitudes undreamed of. 

Dorothy, too, sat listless, pensive, and in her eyes a sombre shadow, such as falls on children's eyes at moments, leaving theirelders silent. 

Once in the false dawn a cock crowed, and the shrill, far cry left theraw air emptier and the silence more profound. I looked wistfully at themaid beside me, chary of intrusion into the intimacy of her silence. Presently her vague eyes met mine, and, as though I had spoken, shesaid: "What is it?"

"Only this: I am sorry you are pledged. "

"Why, cousin?"

"It is unfair. "

"To whom?"

"To you. Bid him undo it and release you. "

"What matters it?" she said, dully. 

"To wed, one should love, " I muttered. 

"I cannot, " she answered, without moving. "I would I could. This nighthas witched me to wish for love--to desire it; and I sit herea-thinking, a-thinking. .. . If love ever came to me I should think itwould come now--ere the dawn; here, where all is so dark and quiet andclose to God. .. . Cousin, this night, for the first moment in all mylife, I have desired love. "

"To be loved?"

"No, . .. To love. "

I do not know how long our silence lasted; the faintest hint of silvertouched the sky above the eastern forest; a bird awoke, sleepilytwittering; another piped out fresh and clear, another, another; and, asthe pallid tint spread in the east, all the woodlands burst out ringinginto song. 

In the house a door opened and a hoarse voice muttered thickly. Dorothypaid no heed, but I rose and stepped into the hallway, where servantswere guiding the patroon to bed, and a man hung to the bronze-cannonpost, swaying and mumbling threats--Colonel Claus, wig awry, stockunbuckled, and one shoe gone. Faugh! the stale, sour air sickened me. 

Then a company of gentlemen issued from the dining-hall, and, as Istepped back to the porch to give them room, their gray faces wereturned to me with meaningless smiles or blank inquiry. 

"Where's my orderly?" hiccoughed Sir John Johnson. "Here, you, call myrascals; get the chaises up! Dammy, I want my post-chaise, d' ye hear?"

Captain Campbell stumbled out to the lawn and fumbled about his lipswith a whistle, which he finally succeeded in blowing. Thisaccomplished, he gravely examined the sky. 

"There they are, " said Dorothy, quietly; and I saw, in the dim morninglight, a dozen horsemen stirring in the shadows of the stockade. Andpresently the horses were brought up, followed by two post-chaises, withsleepy post-boys sitting their saddles and men afoot trailing rifles. 

Colonel Butler came out of the door with Magdalen Brant, who was halfasleep, and aided her to a chaise. Guy Johnson followed with BettyAustin, his arm around her, and climbed in after her. Then Sir Johnbrought Claire Putnam to the other chaise, entering it himself behindher. And the post-boys wheeled their horses out through the stockade, followed at a gallop by the shadowy horsemen. 

And now the Butlers, father and son, set toe to stirrup; and I sawWalter Butler kick the servant who held his stirrup--why, I do not know, unless the poor, tired fellow's hands shook. 

Up into their saddles popped the Glencoe captains; then Campbell sworean oath and dismounted to look for Colonel Claus; and presently twoblacks carried him out and set him in his saddle, which he clung to, swaying like a ship in distress, his riding-boots slung around his neck, stockinged toes clutching the stirrups. 

Away they went, followed at a trot by the armed men on foot; fainter andfainter sounded the clink, clink of their horses' hoofs, then died away. 

In the silence, the east reddened to a flame tint. I turned to the opendoorway; Dorothy was gone, but old Cato stood there, withered handsclasped, peaceful eyes on me. 

"Mawnin', suh, " he said, sweetly. "Yaas, suh, de night done gone and desun mos' up. H'it dat-a-way, Mars' George, suh, h'it jess natch'lydat-a-way in dishyere world--day, night, mo' day. What de Bible say?Life, def, mo' life, suh. When we's daid we'll sho' find it dat-a-way. "

VII

AFTERMATH

Cato at my bedside with basin, towel, and razor, a tub of water on thefloor, and the sun shining on my chamber wall. These, and a stale tasteon my tongue, greeted me as I awoke. 

First to wash teeth and mouth with orris, then to bathe, half asleepstill; and yet again to lie a-thinking in my arm-chair, robed in abanyan, cheeks all suds and nose sniffing the scented water in thechin-basin which I held none too steady; and I said, peevishly, "What afool a man is to play the fool! Do you hear me, Cato?"

He said that he marked my words, and I bade him hold his tongue and tellme the hour. 

"Nine, suh. "

"Then I'll sleep again, " I muttered, but could not, and after themorning draught felt better. Chocolate and bread, new butter and neweggs, put me in a kinder humor. Cato, burrowing in my boxes, drew out asoft, new suit of doeskin with new points, new girdle, and newmoccasins. 

"Oh, " said I, watching him, "am I to go forest-running to-day?"

"Mars' Varick gwine ride de boun's, " he announced, cheerfully. 

"Ride to hounds?" I repeated, astonished. "In May?"

"No, suh! Ride de boun's, suh. "

"Oh, ride the boundaries?"

"Yaas, suh. "

"Oh, very well. What time does he start?"

"'Bout noontide, suh. "

The old man strove to straighten my short queue, but found it hopeless, so tied it close and dusted on the French powder. 

"Curly head, curly head, " he muttered to himself. "Dess lak yo'pap's!. .. An' Miss Dorry's. Law's sakes, dishyere hair wuf mo'neight dollar. "

"You think my hair worth more than eight dollars?" I asked, amused. 

"H'it sho'ly am, suh. "

"But why eight dollars, Cato?"

"Das what the redcoats say; eight dollars fo' one rebel scalp, suh. "

I sat up, horrified. "Who told you that?" I demanded. 

"All de gemmen done say so--Mars' Varick, Mars' Johnsing, Cap'inButler. "

"Bah! they said it to plague you, Cato, " I muttered; but as I said it Isaw the old slave's eyes and knew that he had told the truth. 

Sobered, I dressed me in my forest dress, absently lacing thehunting-shirt and tying knee-points, while the old man polished hatchetand knife and slipped them into the beaded scabbards swinging oneither hip. 

Then I went out, noiselessly descending the stairway, and came allunawares upon the young folk and the children gathered on the sunnyporch, busy with their morning tasks. 

They neither saw nor heard me; I leaned against the doorway to see thepretty picture at my ease. The children, Sam and Benny, sat all hunchedup, scowling over their books. 

Close to a fluted pillar, Dorothy Varick reclined in a chair, embroidering her initials on a pair of white silk hose, using theRosemary stitch. And as her delicate fingers flew, her gold thimbleflashed like a fire-fly in the sun. 

At her feet, cross-legged, sat Cecile Butler, velvet eyes intent on asilken petticoat which she was embroidering with pale sprays of flowers. 

Ruyven and Harry, near by, dipped their brushes into pans of brilliantFrench colors, the one to paint marvellous birds on a silken fan, theother to decorate a pair of white satin shoes with little pink blossomsnodding on a vine. 

Loath to disturb them, I stood smiling, silent; and presently Dorothy, without raising her eyes, called on Samuel to read his morning lesson, and he began, breathing heavily:

 "I know that God is wroth at me For I was born in sin; My heart is so exceeding vile Damnation dwells therein; Awake I sin, asleep I sin, I sin with every breath, When Adam fell he went to hell And damned us all to death!"

He stopped short, scowling, partly from fright, I think. 

"That teaches us to obey God, " said Ruyven, severely, dipping his brushinto the pink paint-cake. 

"What's the good of obeying God if we're all to go to hell?" askedCecile. 

"We're not all going to hell, " said Dorothy, calmly. "God saves Hiselect. "

"Who are the elect?" demanded Samuel, faintly hopeful. 

"Nobody knows, " replied Cecile, grimly; "but I guess--"

"Benny, " broke in Dorothy, "read your lesson! Cecile, stop yourchatter!" And Benny, cheerful and sceptical, read his lines:

 "When by thpectators I behold What beauty doth adorn me, Or in a glath when I behold How thweetly God did form me. Hath God thuch comeliness bethowed And on me made to dwell?-- What pity thuch a pretty maid Ath I thoud go to hell!"

And Benny giggled. 

"Benjamin, " said Cecile, in an awful voice, "are you not terrified atwhat you read?"

"Huh!" said Benny, "I'm not a 'pretty maid'; I'm a boy. "

"It's all the same, little dunce!" insisted Cecile. 

"Doeth God thay little boyth are born to be damned?" he asked, uneasily. 

"No, no, " interrupted Dorothy; "God saves His elect, I tell you. Don'tyou remember what He says?

 "'You sinners are, and such a share As sinners may expect; Such you shall have; for I do save None but my own elect. '

"And you see, " she added, confidently, "I think we all are elect, andthere's nothing to be afraid of. Benny, stop sniffing!"

"Are you sure?" asked Cecile, gloomily. 

Dorothy, stitching serenely, answered: "I am sure God is fair. "

"Oh, everybody knows that, " observed Cecile. "What we want to know is, what does He mean to do with us. "

"If we're good, " added Samuel, fervently. 

"He will damn us, perhaps, " said Ruyven, sucking his paint-brush andlooking critically at his work. 

"Damn us? Why?" inquired Dorothy, raising her eyes. 

"Oh, for all that sin we were born in, " said Ruyven, absently. 

"But that's not fair, " said Dorothy. 

"Are you smarter than a clergyman?" sneered Ruyven. 

Dorothy spread the white silk stocking over one knee. "I don't know, "she sighed, "sometimes I think I am. "

"Pride, " commented Cecile, complacently. "Pride is sin, so there youare, Dorothy. "

"There you are, Dorothy!" said I, laughing from the doorway; and, "Oh, Cousin Ormond!" they all chorused, scrambling up to greet me. 

"Have a care!" cried Dorothy. "That is my wedding petticoat! Oh, he'sslopped water on it! Benny, you dreadful villain!"

"No, he hasn't, " said I, coming out to greet her and Cecile, with Samueland Benny hanging to my belt, and Harry fast hold of one arm. "Andwhat's all this about wedding finery? Is there a bride in thisvicinity?"

Dorothy held out a stocking. "A bride's white silken hose, " she said, complacently. 

"Embroidered on the knee with the bride's initials, " added Cecile, proudly. 

"Yours, Dorothy?" I demanded. 

"Yes, but I shall not wear them for ages and ages. I told you so lastnight. "

"But I thought Dorothy had best make ready, " remarked Cecile. "Dorothyis to carry that fan and wear those slippers and this petticoat and thewhite silk stockings when she weds Sir George. "

"Sir George who?" I asked, bluntly. 

"Why, Sir George Covert. Didn't you know?"

I looked at Dorothy, incensed without a reason. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, ungraciously. 

"Why didn't you ask me?" she replied, a trifle hurt. 

I was silent. 

Cecile said: "I hope that Dorothy will marry him soon. I want to see howshe looks in this petticoat. "

"Ho!" sneered Harry, "you just want to wear one like it and be abridesmaid and primp and give yourself airs. I know you!"

"Sir George Covert is a good fellow, " remarked Ruyven, with apatronizing nod at Dorothy; "but I always said he was too old for you. You should see how gray are his temples when he wears no powder. "

"He has fine eyes, " murmured Cecile. 

"He's too old; he's forty, " repeated Ruyven. 

"His legs are shapely, " added Cecile, sentimentally. 

Dorothy gave a despairing upward glance at me. "Are these children notsilly?" she said, with a little shrug. 

"We may be children, and we may be silly, " said Ruyven, "but if we wereyou we'd wed our cousin Ormond. "

"All of you together?" inquired Dorothy. 

"You know what I mean, " he snapped. 

"Why don't you?" demanded Harry, vaguely, twitching Dorothy by theapron. 

"Do what?"

"Wed our cousin Ormond. "

"But he has not asked me, " she said, smiling. 

Harry turned to me and took my arm affectionately in his. 

"You will ask her, won't you?" he murmured. "She's very nice when shechooses. "

"She wouldn't have me, " I said, laughing. 

"Oh yes, she would; and then you need never leave us, which would bepleasant for all, I think. Won't you ask her, cousin?"

"You ask her, " I said. 

"Dorothy, " he broke out, eagerly. "You will wed him, won't you? Ourcousin Ormond says he will if you will. And I'll tell Sir George thatit's just a family matter, and, besides, he's too old--"

"Yes, tell Sir George that, " sneered Ruyven, who had listened in anembarrassment that certainly Dorothy had not betrayed. "You're a greatfool, Harry. Don't you know that when people want to wed they ask eachother's permission to ask each other's father, and then their fathersask each other, and then they ask each--"

"Other!" cried Dorothy, laughing deliciously. "Oh, Ruyven, Ruyven, youcertainly will be the death of me!"

"All the same, " said Harry, sullenly, "our cousin wishes to wed you. "

"Do you?" asked Dorothy, raising her amused eyes to me. 

"I fear I come too late, " I said, forcing a smile I was not inclined to. 

"Ah, yes; too late, " she sighed, pretending a doleful mien. 

"Why?" demanded Harry, blankly. 

Dorothy shook her head. "Sir George would never permit me such aliberty. If he would, our cousin Ormond and I could wed at once; you seeI have my bride's stockings here; Cecile could do my hair, Sammy carrymy prayer-book, Benny my train, Ruyven read the service--"

Harry, flushing at the shout of laughter, gave Dorothy a dark look, turned and eyed me, then scowled again at Dorothy. 

"All the same, " he said, slowly, "you're a great goose not to wedhim. .. . And you'll be sorry . .. When he's dead!"

At this veiled prophecy of my approaching dissolution, all were silentsave Dorothy and Ruyven, whose fresh laughter rang out peal on peal. 

"Laugh, " said Harry, gloomily; "but you won't laugh when he's killed inthe war, . .. And scalped, too. "

Ruyven, suddenly sober, looked up at me. Dorothy bent over herneedle-work and examined it attentively. 

"Are you going to the war?" asked Cecile, plaintively. 

"Of course he's going; so am I, " replied Ruyven, striking a carelesspose against a pillar. 

"On which side, Ruyven?" inquired Dorothy, sorting her silks. 

"On my cousin's side, of course, " he said, uneasily. 

"Which side is that?" asked Cecile. 

Confused, flushing painfully, the boy looked at me; and I rescued him, saying, "We'll talk that over when we ride bounds this afternoon. Ruyvenand I understand each other, don't we, Ruyven?"

He gave me a grateful glance. "Yes, " he said, shyly. 

Sir George Covert, a trifle pallid, but bland and urbane, strolled outto the porch, saluting us gracefully. He paused beside Dorothy, whoslipped her needle through her work and held out her hand for himto salute. 

"Are you also going to the wars?" she asked, with a friendly smile. 

"Where are they?" he inquired, pretending a fierce eagerness. "Point outsome wars and I'll go to 'em post haste!"

"They're all around us, " said Sammy, solemnly. 

"Then we'd best get to horse and lose no time, Mr. Ormond, " he observed, passing his arm through mine. In a lower voice he added: "Headache?"

"Oh no, " I said, hastily. 

"Lucky dog. Sir Lupus lies as though struck by lightning. I'm alla-quiver, too. A man of my years is a fool to do such things. But I do, Ormond, I do; ass that I am. Do you ride bounds with Sir Lupus?"

"If he desires it, " I said. 

"Then I'll see you when you pass my villa on the Vlaie, where you'llfind a glass of wine waiting. Do you ride, Miss Dorothy?"

"Yes, " she said. 

A stable lad brought his horse to the porch. He took leave of Dorothywith a grace that charmed even me; yet, in his bearing towards her Icould detect the tender pride he had in her, and that left me cold andthoughtful. 

All liked him, though none appeared to regard him exactly as a kinsman, nor accorded him that vague shade of intimacy which is felt in kinship, not in comradeship alone, and which they already accorded me. 

Dorothy walked with him to the stockade gate, the stable lad followingwith his horse; and I saw them stand there in low-voiced conversation, he lounging and switching at the weeds with his riding-crop; she, headbent, turning the gold thimble over and over between her fingers. And Iwondered what they were saying. 

Presently he mounted and rode away, a graceful, manly figure in thesaddle, and not turning like a fop to blow a kiss at his betrothed, norspurring his horse to show his skill--for which I coldly respected him. 

Harry, Cecile, and the children gathered their paints and books andwent into the house, demanding that I should follow. 

"Dorothy is beckoning us, " observed Ruyven, gathering up his paints. 

I looked towards her and she raised her hand, motioning us to come. 

"About father's watch, " she said. "I have just consulted Sir George, andhe says that neither I nor Ruyven have won, seeing that Ruyven used thecoin he did--"

"Very well, " cried Ruyven, triumphantly. "Then let us match dates again. Have you a shilling, Cousin Ormond?"

"I'll throw hunting-knives for it, " suggested Dorothy. 

"Oh no, you won't, " retorted her brother, warily. 

"Then I'll race you to the porch. "

He shook his head. 

She laughed tauntingly. 

"I'm not afraid, " said Ruyven, reddening and glancing at me. 

"Then I'll wrestle you. "

Stung by the malice in her smile, Ruyven seized her. 

"No, no! Not in these clothes!" she said, twisting to free herself. "Wait till I put on my buckskins. Don't use me so roughly, you tear mylaced apron. Oh! you great booby!" And with a quick cry of resentmentshe bent, caught her brother, and swung him off his feet clean over herleft shoulder slap on the grass. 

"Silly!" she said, cheeks aflame. "I have no patience to be mauled. "Then she laughed uncertainly to see him lying there, too astonishedto get up. 

"Are you hurt?" she asked. 

"Who taught you that hold?" he demanded, indignantly, scrambling to hisfeet. "I thought I alone knew that. "

"Why, Captain Campbell taught you last week and . .. I was at thewindow . .. Sewing, " she said, demurely. 

Ruyven looked at me, disgusted, muttering, "If I could learn things theway she does, I'd not waste time at King's College, I can tell you. "

"You're not going to King's College, anyhow, " said his sister. "York isfull o' loyal rebels and Tory patriots, and father says he'll be damnedif you can learn logic where all lack it. "

She held out her hand, smiling. "No malice, Ruyven, and we'll forgiveeach other. "

Her brother met the clasp; then, hands in his pockets, followed us backthrough the stockade towards the porch. I was pleased to see that hispride had suffered no more than his body from the fall he got, whichaugured well for a fair-minded manhood. 

As we approached the house I heard hollow noises within, like groans;and I stopped, listening intently. 

"It is Sir Lupus snoring, " observed Ruyven. "He will wake soon; I thinkI had best call Tulip, " he added, exchanging a glance with his sister;and entered the house calling, "Cato! Cato! Tulip! Tulip! I say!"

"Who is Tulip?" I asked of Dorothy, who lingered at the thresholdfolding her embroidery into a bundle. 

"Tulip? Oh, Tulip cooks for us--black as a June crow, cousin. She isvoodoo. "

"Evil-eye and all?" I asked, smiling. 

Dorothy looked up shyly. "Don't you believe in the evil-eye?"

I was not perfectly sure whether I did or not, but I said "No. "

"To believe is not necessarily to be afraid, " she added, quickly. 

Now, had I believed in the voodoo craft, or in the power of an evil-eye, I should also have feared. Those who have ever witnessed a sea-islandwitch-dance can bear me out, and I think a man may dread a hag and be nocoward either. But distance and time allay the memories of such uncannyworks. I had forgotten whether I was afraid or not. So I said, "Thereare no witches, Dorothy. "

She looked at me, dreamily. "There are none . .. That I fear. "

"Not even Catrine Montour?" I asked, to plague her. 

"No; it turns me cold to think of her running in the forest, but I amnot afraid. "

She stood pensive in the doorway, rolling and unrolling her embroidery. Harry and Cecile came out, flourishing alder poles from which lines andhooks dangled. Samuel and Benny carried birchen baskets andshallow nets. 

"If we're to have Mohawk chubbs, " said Cecile, "you had best come withus, Dorothy. Ruyven has a book and has locked himself in the play-room. "

But Dorothy shook her head, saying that she meant to ride the boundarywith us; and the children, after vainly soliciting my company, troopedoff towards that same grist-mill in the ravine below the bridge which Ihad observed on my first arrival at Varick Manor. 

"I am wondering, " said Dorothy, "how you mean to pass the morning. Youhad best steer wide of Sir Lupus until he has breakfasted. "

"I've a mind to sleep, " I said, guiltily. 

"I think it would be pleasant to ride together. Will you?" she asked;then, laughing, she said, frankly, "Since you have come I do nothing butfollow you. .. . It is long since I have had a young companion, . .. And, when I think that you are to leave us, it spurs me to lose no momentthat I shall regret when you are gone. "

No shyness marred the pretty declaration of her friendship, and ittouched me the more keenly perhaps. The confidence in her eyes, liftedso sweetly, waked the best in me; and if my response was stumbling, itwas eager and warm, and seemed to please her. 

"Tulip! Tulip!" she cried, "I want my dinner! Now!" And to me, "We willeat what they give us; I shall dress in my buckskins and we will ridethe boundary and register the signs, and Sir Lupus and the others canmeet us at Sir George Covert's pleasure-house on the Vlaie. Does itplease you, Cousin George?"

I looked into her bright eyes and said that it pleased me more than Idared say, and she laughed and ran up-stairs, calling back to me that Ishould order our horses and tell Cato to tell Tulip to fetch meat andclaret to the gun-room. 

I whistled a small, black stable lad and bade him bring our mounts tothe porch, then wandered at random down the hallway, following my nose, which scented the kitchen, until I came to a closed door. 

Behind that door meats were cooking--I could take my oath o' that--so Iopened the door and poked my nose in. 

"Tulip, " I said, "come here!"

An ample black woman, aproned and turbaned, looked at me through thesteam of many kettles, turned and cuffed the lad at the spit, dealt afew buffets among the scullions, and waddled up to me, bobbing andcurtsying. 

"Aunt Tulip, " I said, gravely, "are you voodoo?"

"Folks says ah is, Mars' Ormon', " she said, in her soft Georgia accent. 

"Oh, they do, do they? Look at me, Aunt Tulip. What do my eyes tell youof me?"

Her dark eyes, fixed on mine, seemed to change, and I thought littleglimmers of pure gold tinted the iris, like those marvellous restlesstints in a gorgeous bubble. Certainly her eyes were strange, almostcompelling, for I felt a faint rigidity in my cheeks and my eyesreturned directly to hers as at an unspoken command. 

"Can you read me, aunty?" I asked, trying to speak easily, yet feelingthe stiffness growing in my cheeks. 

"Ah sho' can, " she said, stepping nearer. 

"What is my fate, then?"

"Ah 'spec' yo' gwine fine yo'se'f in love, " she said, softly; and Istrove to smile with ever-stiffening lips. 

A little numbness that tingled spread over me; it was pleasant; I didnot care to withdraw my eyes. Presently the tightness in my facerelaxed, I moved my lips, smiling vaguely. 

"In love, " I repeated. 

"Yaas, Mars' Ormon'. "

"When?"

"'Fore yo' know h'it, honey. "

"Tell me more. "

"'Spec' ah done tole yo' too much, honey. " She looked at me steadily. "Pore Mars' Gawge, " she murmured, "'spec' ah done tole yo' too much. Butit sho' am a-comin', honey, an' h'it gwine come pow'ful sudden, an' h'itgwine mek yo' pow'ful sick. "

"Am I to win her?"

"No, honey. "

"Is there no hope, Aunt Tulip?"

She hesitated as though at fault; I felt the tenseness in my face oncemore; then, for one instant, I lost track of time; for presently I foundmyself standing in the hallway watching Sir Lupus through the open doorof the gun-room, and Sir Lupus was very angry. 

"Dammy!" he roared, "am I to eat my plate? Cato! I want my porridge!"

Confused, I stood blinking at him, and he at table, bibbed like a babe, mad as a hornet, hammering on the cloth with a great silver spoon andbellowing that they meant to starve him. 

"I don't remember how I came here, " I began, then flushed furiously atmy foolishness. 

"Remember!" he shouted. "I don't remember anything! I don't want toremember anything! I want my porridge! I want it now! Damnation!"

Cato, hastening past me with the steaming dish, was received with ayelp. But at last Sir Lupus got his spoon into the mess and a portion ofthe mess into his mouth, and fell to gobbling and growling, paying me nofurther attention. So I closed the door of the gun-room on the greatpatroon and walked to the foot of the stairway. 

A figure in soft buckskins was descending--a blue-eyed, graceful youthwho hailed me with a gesture. 

"Dorothy!" I said, fascinated. 

Her fringed hunting-shirt fell to her knees, the short shoulder-capefrom throat to breast; gay fringe fluttered from shoulder to wrist, andfrom thigh to ankle; and her little scarlet-quilled moccasins wentpat-patter-pat as she danced down the stairway and stood before me, sweeping her cap from her golden head in exaggerated salute. 

She seemed smaller in her boy's dress, fuller, too, and rounder of neckand limb; and the witchery of her beauty left me silent--a tribute shefound delightful, for she blushed very prettily and bowed again in dumbacknowledgment of the homage all too evident in my eyes. 

Cato came with a dish of meat and a bottle of claret; and we sat downon the stairs, punishing bottle and platter till neither drop norscrap remained. 

"Don't leave these dishes for Sir Lupus to fall over!" she cried toCato, then sprang to her feet and was out of the door before I couldmove, whistling for our horses. 

As I came out the horses arrived, and I hastened forward to put her intoher saddle, but she was up and astride ere I reached the ground, coollygathering bridle and feeling with her soft leather toes forthe stirrups. 

Astonished, for I had never seen a girl so mounted, I climbed to mysaddle and wheeled my mare, following her out across the lawn, throughthe stockade and into the road, where I pushed my horse forward andranged up beside her at a gallop, just as she reached the bridge. 

"See!" she cried, with a sweep of her arm, "there are the children downthere fishing under the mill. " And she waved her small cap of silverfox, calling in a clear, sweet voice the Indian cry of triumph, "Kôue!"

VIII

RIDING THE BOUNDS

For the first half-mile our road lay over that same golden, hillycountry, and through the same splendid forests which I had traversed onmy way to the manor. Then we galloped past cultivated land, whereclustered spears of Indian corn sprouted above the reddish golden soil, and sheep fed in stony pastures. 

Around the cabins of the tenantry, fields of oats and barley glimmered, thin blades pricking the loam, brilliant as splintered emeralds. 

A few dropping blossoms still starred the apple-trees, pears showed intiny bunches, and once I saw a late peach-tree in full pink bloom and anold man hoeing the earth around it. He looked up as we galloped past, saluted sullenly, and leaned on his hoe, looking after us. 

Dorothy said he was a Palatine refugee and a rebel, like the majority ofSir Lupus's tenants; and I gazed curiously at these fields and cabinswhere gaunt men and gaunter women, laboring among their sproutingvegetables, turned sun-dazzled eyes to watch us as we clattered by;where ragged children, climbing on the stockades, called out to us inlittle, shrill voices; where feeding cattle lifted sober heads to stare;where lank, yellow dogs rushed out barking and snapping till a cut ofthe whip sent them scurrying back. 

Once a woman came to her gate and hailed us, asking if it was true thatthe troops had been withdrawn from Johnstown and Kingsborough. 

"Which troops?" I asked. 

"Ours, " began the woman, then checked herself, and shot a suspiciousglance at me. 

"The Provincials are still at Johnstown and Kingsborough, " said Dorothy, gently. 

A gleam of relief softened the woman's haggard features. Then her facedarkened again and she pointed at two barefooted children shrinkingagainst the fence. 

"If my man and I were alone we would not be afraid of the Mohawks; butthese--"

She made a desperate gesture, and stood staring at the blue Mayfieldhills where, perhaps at that moment, painted Mohawk scouts were watchingthe Sacandaga. 

"If your men remain quiet, Mrs. Schell, you need fear neither rebel, savage, nor Tory, " said Dorothy. "The patroon will see that you haveample protection. "

Mrs. Schell gave her a helpless glance. "Did you not know that thedistrict scout-call has gone out?" she asked. 

"Yes; but if the tenants of Sir Lupus obey it they do so at theirperil, " replied Dorothy, gravely. "The militia scouts of this districtmust not act hastily. Your husband would be mad to answer a call andleave you here alone. "

"What would you have him do?" muttered the woman. 

"Do?" repeated Dorothy. "He can do one thing or the other--join hisregiment and take his family to the district fort, or stay at home andcare for you and the farm. These alarms are all wrong--your men areeither soldiers or farmers; they cannot be both unless they live closeenough to the forts. Tell Mr. Schell that Francy McCraw and his ridersare in the forest, and that the Brandt-Meester of Balston saw a Mohawksmoke-signal on the mountain behind Mayfield. "

The woman folded her bony arms in her apron, cast one tragic glance ather children, then faced us again, hollow-eyed but undaunted. 

"My man is with Stoner's scout, " she said, with dull pride. 

"Then you must go to the block-house, " began Dorothy, but the womanpointed to the fields, shaking her head. 

"We shall build a block-house here, " she said, stubbornly. "We cannotleave our corn. We must eat, Mistress Varick. My man is too poor to be aProvincial soldier, too brave to refuse a militia call--"

She choked, rubbed her eyes, and bent her stern gaze on the hills oncemore. Presently we rode on, and, turning in my saddle, I saw herstanding as we had left her, gaunt, rigid, staring steadily at thedreaded heights in the northwest. 

As we galloped, cultivated fields and orchards became rarer; here andthere, it is true, some cabin stood on a half-cleared hill-side, and weeven passed one or two substantial houses on the flat ridge to the east, but long, solid stretches of forest intervened, and presently we leftthe highway and wheeled into a cool wood-road bordered on either side bythe forest. 

"Here we find our first landmark, " said Dorothy, drawing bridle. 

A white triangle glimmered, cut in the bark of an enormous pine; and mycousin rode up to the tree and patted the bark with her little hand. Onthe triangle somebody had cut a V and painted it black. 

"This is a boundary mark, " said Dorothy. "The Mohawks claim the forestto the east; ride around and you will see their sign. "

I guided my horse around the huge, straight trunk. An oval blaze scarredit and on the wood was painted a red wolf. 

"It's the wolf-clan, Brant's own clan of the Mohawk nation, " she calledout to me. "Follow me, cousin. " And she dashed off down the wood-road, Igalloping behind, leaping windfalls, gullies, and the shallow forestbrooks that crossed our way. The road narrowed to a trodden trail; thetrail faded, marked at first by cut undergrowth, then only by the whitescars on the tree-trunks. 

These my cousin followed, her horse at a canter, and I followed her, halting now and again to verify the white triangle on the solid flank ofsome forest giant, passing a sugar-bush with the shack still standingand the black embers of the fire scattered, until we came to alogging-road and turned into it, side by side. A well-defined pathcrossed this road at right angles, and Dorothy pointed it out. "TheIroquois trail, " she said. "See how deeply it is worn--nearly ten inchesdeep--where the Five Nations have trodden it for centuries. Over ittheir hunting-parties pass, their scouts, their war-parties. It runsfrom the Kennyetto to the Sacandaga and north over the hills tothe Canadas. "

We halted and looked down the empty, trodden trail, stretching awaythrough the forest. Thousands and thousands of light, moccasined feethad worn it deep and patted it hard as a sheep-path. On what missionwould the next Mohawk feet be speeding on that trail?

"Those people at Fonda's Bush had best move to Johnstown, " said Dorothy. "If the Mohawks strike, they will strike through here at Balston orSaratoga, or at the half-dozen families left at Fonda's Bush, which someof them call Broadalbin. "

"Have these poor wretches no one to warn them?" I asked. 

"Oh, they have been warned and warned, but they cling to their cabins ascats cling to soft cushions. The Palatines seem paralyzed with fear, theDutch are too lazy to move in around the forts, the Scotch and Englishtoo obstinate. Nobody can do anything for them--you heard what thatSchell woman said when I urged her to prudence. "

I bent my eyes on the ominous trail; its very emptiness fascinated me, and I dismounted and knelt to examine it where, near a dry, rotten log, some fresh marks showed. 

Behind me I heard Dorothy dismount, dropping to the ground lightly as atree-lynx; the next moment she laid her hand on my shoulder and bentover where I was kneeling. 

"Can you read me that sign?" she asked, mischievously. 

"Something has rolled and squatted in the dry wood-dust--some bird, Ithink. "

"A good guess, " she said; "a cock-partridge has dusted here; see thosebits of down? I say a cock-bird because I know that log to be adrumming-log. "

She raised herself and guided her horse along the trail, bright eyesrestlessly scanning ground and fringing underbrush. 

"Deer passed here--one--two--three--the third a buck--a three-year old, "she said, sinking her voice by instinct. "Yonder a tree-cat dug for awood-mouse; your lynx is ever hanging about a drumming-log. "

I laid my hand on her arm and pointed to a fresh, green maple leaf lyingbeside the trail. 

"Ay, " she murmured, "but it fell naturally, cousin. See; here it partedfrom the stalk, clean as a poplar twig, leaving the shiny cup unbruised. And nothing has passed here--this spider's web tells that, with a deadmoth dangling from it, dead these three days, from its brittle shell. "

"I hear water, " I said, and presently we came to it, where it hurrieddarkling across the trail. 

There were no human signs there; here a woodcock had peppered the mudwith little holes, probing for worms; there a raccoon had picked hisway; yonder a lynx had left the great padded mark of its foot, doubtlesswatching for yonder mink nosing us from the bank of the stillpool below. 

Silently we mounted and rode out of the still Mohawk country; and I wasnot sorry to leave, for it seemed to me that there was somethingunfriendly in the intense stillness--something baleful in the silence;and I was glad presently to see an open road and a great tree markedwith Sir Lupus's mark, the sun shining on the white triangle and thepainted V. 

Entering a slashing where the logging-road passed, we moved on, side byside, talking in low tones. And my cousin taught me how to know theseNorthern trees by bark and leaf; how to know the shrubs new to me, likethat strange plant whose root is like a human body and which the Chinesevalue at its weight in gold; and the aromatic root used in beer, and thebark of the sweet-birch whose twigs are golden-black. 

Now, though the birds and many of the beasts and trees were familiar tome in this Northern forest, yet I was constantly at fault, as I havesaid. Plumage and leaf and fur puzzled me; our gray rice-bird here worea velvet livery of black and white and sang divinely, though with us heis mute as a mullet; many squirrels were striped with black and white;no rosy lichen glimmered on the tree-trunks; no pink-stemmed pinessoftened sombre forest depths; no great tiger-striped butterflies toldme that the wild orange was growing near at hand; no whirring, olive-tinted moth signalled the hidden presence of the oleander. But Isaw everywhere unfamiliar winged things, I heard unfamiliar bird-notes;new colors perplexed me, new shapes, nay, the very soil smelled foreign, and the water tasted savorless as the mist of pine barrens in February. 

Still, my Maker had set eyes in my head and given me a nose to sniffwith; and I was learning every moment, tasting, smelling, touching, listening, asking questions unashamed; and my cousin Dorothy seemednever to tire in aiding me, nor did her eager delight and sympathyabate one jot. 

Dressed in full deer-skin as was I, she rode her horse astride with agrace as perfect as it was unstudied and unconscious, neither affectingthe slothful carriage of our Southern saddle-masters nor the dragoons'rigid seat, but sat at ease, hollow-backed, loose-thighed, free-reinedand free-stirruped. 

Her hair, gathered into a golden club at the nape of the neck, glitteredin the sun, her eyes deepened like the violet depths of mid-heaven. Already the sun had lent her a delicate, creamy mask, golden on hertemples where the hair grew paler; and I thought I had never seen suchwholesome sweetness and beauty in any living being. 

We now rode through a vast flat land of willows, headed due north oncemore, and I saw a little river which twisted a hundred times upon itselflike a stricken snake, winding its shimmering coils out and in throughwoodland, willow-flat, and reedy marsh. 

"The Kennyetto, " said Dorothy, "flowing out of the great Vlaie to emptyits waters close to its source after a circle of half a hundred miles. Yonder lies the Vlaie--it is that immense flat country of lake and marshand forest which is wedged in just south of the mountain-gap where thelast of the Adirondacks split into the Mayfield hills and the long, lowspurs rolling away to the southeast. Sir William Johnson had a lodgethere at Summer-house Point. Since his death Sir George Covert hasleased it from Sir John. That is our trysting-place. "

To hear Sir George's name now vaguely disturbed me, yet I could notthink why, for I admired and liked him. But at the bare mention of hisname a dull uneasiness came over me and I turned impatiently to mycousin as though the irritation had come from her and she mustexplain it. 

"What is it?" she inquired, faintly smiling. 

"I asked no question, " I muttered. 

"I thought you meant to speak, cousin. "

I had meant to say something. I did not know what. 

"You seem to know when I am about to speak, " I said; "that is twice youhave responded to my unasked questions. "

"I know it, " she said, surprised and a trifle perplexed. "I seem to hearyou when you are mute, and I turn to find you looking at me, as thoughyou had asked me something. "

We rode on, thoughtful, silent, aware of a new and wordless intimacy. 

"It is pleasant to be with you, " she said at last. "I have never beforefound untroubled contentment save when I am alone. .. . Everything thatyou see and think of on this ride I seem to see and think of, too, andknow that you are observing with the same delight that I feel. .. . Nordoes anything in the world disturb my happiness. Nor do you vex me withsilence when I would have you speak; nor with speech when I ridedreaming--as I do, cousin, for hours and hours--not sadly, but in thesweetest peace--"

Her voice died out like a June breeze; our horses, ear to ear moved onslowly in the fragrant silence. 

"To ride . .. Forever . .. Together, " she mused, "looking with perfectcontent on all the world. .. . I teaching you, or you me; . .. It's all onefor the delight it gives to be alive and young. .. . And no trouble toawait us, . .. Nothing malicious to do a harm to any living thing. .. . Icould renounce Heaven for that. .. . Could you?"

"Yes. .. . For less. "

"I know I ask too much; grief makes us purer, fitting us for the companyof blessed souls. They say that even war may be a holy thing--though weare commanded otherwise. .. . Cousin, at moments a demon rises in me and Idesire some forbidden thing so ardently, so passionately, that it seemsas if I could fight a path through paradise itself to gain what Idesire. .. . Do you feel so?"

"Yes. "

"Is it not consuming--terrible to be so shaken?. .. Yet I never gain mydesire, for there in my path my own self rises to confront me, blockingmy way. And I can never pass--never. .. . Once, in winter, our agent, Mr. Fonda, came driving a trained caribou to a sledge. A sweet, gentlething, with dark, mild eyes, and I was mad to drive it--mad, cousin! ButSir Lupus learned that it had trodden and gored a man, and put me on myhonor not to drive it. And all day Sir Lupus was away at Kingsboroughfor his rents and I free to drive the sledge, . .. And I was mad to doit--and could not. And the pretty beast stabled with our horses, andevery day I might have driven it. .. . I never did. .. . It hurts yet, cousin. .. . How strange is it that to us the single word, 'honor, ' blocksthe road and makes the King's own highway no thorough-fare forever!"

She gathered bridle nervously, and we launched our horses through awillow fringe and away over a soft, sandy intervale, riding knee to kneetill the wind whistled in our ears and the sand rose fountain high atevery stride of our bounding horses. 

"Ah!" she sighed, drawing bridle. "That clears the heart of sillytroubles. Was it not glorious? Like a plunge to the throat in anicy pool!"

Her face, radiant, transfigured, was turned to the north, where, glittering under the westward sun, the sunny waters of the Vlaiesparkled between green reeds and rushes. Beyond, smoky blue mountainstumbled into two uneven walls, spread southeast and southwest, flankingthe flat valley of the Vlaie. 

Thousands of blackbirds chattered and croaked and trilled and whistledin the reeds, flitting upward, with a flash of scarlet on their wings;hovering, dropping again amid a ceaseless chorus from the half-hiddenflock. Over the marshes slow hawks sailed, rose, wheeled, and fell; thegray ducks, whose wings bear purple diamond-squares, quacked in thetussock ponds, guarded by their sentinels, the tall, blue herons. Everywhere the earth was sheeted with marsh-marigolds and violets. 

Across the distant grassy flat two deer moved, grazing. We rode to theeast, skirting the marshes, following a trail made by cattle, untilbeyond the flats we saw the green roof of the pleasure-house which SirWilliam Johnson had built for himself. Our ride together wasnearly ended. 

As at the same thought we tightened bridle and looked at each othergravely. 

"All rides end, " I said. 

"Ay, like happiness. "

"Both may be renewed. "

"Until they end again. "

"Until they end forever. "

She clasped her bare hands on her horse's neck, sitting with bent headas though lost in sombre memories. 

"What ends forever might endure forever, " I said. 

"Not our rides together, " she murmured. "You must return to the Southone day. I must wed. .. . Where shall we be this day a year hence?"

"Very far apart, cousin. "

"Will you remember this ride?"

"Yes, " I said, troubled. 

"I will, too. .. . And I shall wonder what you are doing. "

"And I shall think of you, " I said, soberly. 

"Will you write?"

"Yes. Will you?"

"Yes. "

Silence fell between us like a shadow; then:

"Yonder rides Sir George Covert, " she said, listlessly. 

I saw him dismounting before his door, but said nothing. 

"Shall we move forward?" she asked, but did not stir a finger towardsthe bridle lying on her horse's neck. 

Another silence; and, impatiently:

"I cannot bear to have you go, " she said; "we are perfectly contentedtogether--and I wish you to know all the thoughts I have touching on theworld and on people. I cannot tell them to my father, nor to Ruyven--andCecile is too young--"

"There is Sir George, " I said. 

"He! Why, I should never think of telling him of these thoughts thatplease or trouble or torment me!" she said, in frank surprise. "Heneither cares for the things you care for nor thinks about themat all. "

"Perhaps he does. Ask him. "

"I have. He smiles and says nothing. I am afraid to tax his courtesywith babble of beast and bird and leaf and flower; and why one man isrich and another poor; and whether it is right that men should holdslaves; and why our Lord permits evil, having the power to end it forall time. I should like to know all these things, " she said, earnestly. 

"But I do not know them, Dorothy. "

"Still, you think about them, and so do I. Sir Lupus says you haveliberated your Greeks and sent them back. I want to know why. Then, too, though neither you nor I can know our Lord's purpose in enduring theevil that Satan plans, it is pleasant, I think, to ask each other. "

"To think together, " I said, sadly. 

"Yes; that is it. Is it not a pleasure?"

"Yes, Dorothy. "

"It does not matter that we fail to learn; it is the happiness inknowing that the other also cares to know, the delight in seaching forreason together. Cousin, I have so longed to say this to somebody; anduntil you came I never believed it possible. .. . I wish we were brotherand sister! I wish you were Cecile, and I could be with you all day andall night. .. . At night, half asleep, I think of wonderful things to talkabout, but I forget them by morning. Do you?"

"Yes, cousin. "

"It is strange we are so alike!" she said, staring at me thoughtfully. 

IX

HIDDEN FIRE

After a few moments' silence we moved forward towards thepleasure-house, and we had scarcely started when down the road, from thenorth, came the patroon riding a powerful black horse, attended by oldCato mounted on a raw-boned hunter, and by one Peter Van Horn, thedistrict Brandt-Meester, or fire-warden. As they halted at Sir GeorgeCovert's door, we rode up to join them at a gallop, and the patroon, seeing us far off, waved his hat at us in evident good humor. 

"Not a landmark missing!" he shouted, "and my signs all witnessed forrecord by Peter and Cato! How do the southwest landmarks stand?"

"The tenth pine is blasted by lightning, " said Dorothy, walking herbeautiful gray to Sir Lupus's side. 

"Pooh! We've a dozen years to change trees, " said Sir Lupus, in greatcontent. "All's well everywhere, save at the Fish-House near theSacandaga ford, where some impudent rascal says he saw smoke on thehills. He's doubtless a liar. Where's Sir George?"

Sir George sauntered forth from the doorway where he had been standing, and begged us to dismount, but the patroon declined, saying that we hadfar to ride ere sundown, and that one of us should go around byBroadalbin. However, Dorothy and I slipped from our saddles to stretchour legs while a servant brought stirrup-cups and Sir George gathered aspray of late lilac which my cousin fastened to her leather belt. 

"Tory lilacs, " said Sir George, slyly; "these bushes came from cuttingsof those Sir William planted at Johnson Hall. "

"If Sir William planted them, a rebel may wear them, " replied Dorothy, gayly. 

"Ay, it's that whelp, Sir John, who has marred what the great baronetleft as his monument, " growled old Peter Van Horn. 

"That's treason!" snapped the patroon. "Stop it. I won't have politicstalked in my presence, no! Dammy, Peter, hold your tongue, sir!"

Dorothy, wearing the lilac spray, vaulted lightly into her saddle, and Imounted my mare. Stirrup-cups were filled and passed up to us, and wedrained a cooled measure of spiced claret to the master of thepleasure-house, who pledged us gracefully in return, and then stood byDorothy's horse, chatting and laughing until, at a sign from Sir Lupus, Cato sounded "Afoot!" on his curly hunting-horn, and the patroon wheeledhis big horse out into the road, with a whip-salute to our host. 

"Dine with us to-night!" he bawled, without turning his fat head orwaiting for a reply, and hammered away in a torrent of dust. Sir Georgeglanced wistfully at Dorothy. 

"There's a district officer-call gone out, " he said. "Some of thePalatine officers desire my presence. I cannot refuse. So . .. It isgood-bye for a week. "

"Are you a militia officer?" I asked, curiously. 

"Yes, " he said, with a humorous grimace. "May I say that you also are acandidate?"

Dorothy turned squarely in her saddle and looked me in the eyes. 

"At the district's service, Sir George, " I said, lightly. 

"Ha! That is well done, Ormond!" he exclaimed. "Nothing yet toinconvenience you, but our Governor Clinton may send you a billet douxfrom Albany before May ends and June begins--if this periwigged beau, St. Leger, strolls out to ogle Stanwix--"

Dorothy turned her horse sharply, saluted Sir George, and galloped awaytowards her father, who had halted at the cross-roads to wait for us. 

"Good-bye, Sir George, " I said, offering my hand. He took it in a firm, steady clasp. 

"A safe journey, Ormond. I trust fortune may see fit to throw ustogether in this coming campaign. "

I bowed, turned bridle, and cantered off, leaving him standing in theroad before his gayly painted pleasure-house, an empty wine-cup inhis hand. 

"Damnation, George!" bawled Sir Lupus, as I rode up, "have we all day tostand nosing one another and trading gossip! Some of us must ride byFonda's Bush, or Broadalbin, whatever the Scotch loons call it; and I'llsay plainly that I have no stomach for it; I want my dinner!"

"It will give me pleasure to go, " said I, "but I require a guide. "

"Peter shall ride with you, " began Sir Lupus; but Dorothy broke in, impatiently:

"He need not. I shall guide Mr. Ormond to Broadalbin. "

"Oh no, you won't!" snapped the patroon; "you've done enough offorest-running for one day. Peter, pilot Mr. Ormond to the Bush. "

And he galloped on ahead, followed by Cato and Peter; so that, by reasonof their dust, which we did not choose to choke in, Dorothy and Islackened our pace and fell behind. 

"Do you know why you are to pass by Broadalbin?" she asked, presently. 

I said I did not. 

"Folk at the Fish-House saw smoke on the Mayfield hills an hour since. That is twice in three days!"

"Well, " said I, "what of that?"

"It is best that the Broadalbin settlement should hear of it. "

"Do you mean that it may have been an Indian signal?"

"It may have been. I did not see it--the forest cut our view. "

The westering sun, shining over the Mayfield hills, turned the dust togolden fog. Through it Cato's red coat glimmered, and the hunting-horn, curving up over his bent back, struck out streams of blinding sparks. Brass buttons on the patroon's broad coat-skirts twinkled like yellowstars, and the spurs flashed on his quarter-gaiters as he pounded alongat a solid hand-gallop, hat crammed over his fat ears, pig-taila-bristle, and the blue coat on his enormous body white with dust. 

In the renewed melody of the song-birds there was a hint of approachingevening; shadows lengthened; the sunlight grew redder on the dusty road. 

"The Broadalbin trail swings into the forest just ahead, " said Dorothy, pointing with her whip-stock. "See, there where they are drawing bridle. But I mean to ride with you, nevertheless. .. . And I'll do it!"

The patroon was waiting for us when we came to the weather-beatenfinger-post:

 "FONDA'S BUSH 4 MILES. "

And Peter Van Horn had already ridden into the broad, soft wood-road, when Dorothy, swinging her horse past him at a gallop, cried out, "Iwant to go with them! Please let me!" And was gone like a deer, tearingaway down the leafy trail. 

"Come back!" roared Sir Lupus, standing straight up in his ponderousstirrups. "Come back, you little vixen! Am I to be obeyed, or am I not?Baggage! Undutiful tree-cat! Dammy, she's off!"

He looked at me and smote his fat thigh with open hand. 

"Did you ever see the like of her!" he chuckled, in his pride. "She's aDutch Varick for obstinacy, but the rest is Ormond--all Ormond. Ride on, George, and tell those rebel fools at Fonda's Bush that they should behunting cover in the forts if folk at the Fish-House read that smokearight. Follow the Brandt-Meester if Dorothy slips you, and tell herI'll birch her, big as she is, if she's not home by the new moon rise. "

Then he dragged his hat over his mottled ears, grasped the bridle andgalloped on, followed by old Cato and his red coat and curly horn. 

I had ridden a cautious mile on the dim, leafy trail ere I picked up VanHorn, only to quit him. I had ridden full three before I caught sight ofDorothy, sitting her gray horse, head at gaze in my direction. 

"What in the world set you tearing off through the forest like that?" Iasked, laughing. 

She turned her horse and we walked on, side by side. 

"I wished to come, " she said, simply. "The pleasures of this day mustend only with the night. Besides, I was burning to ask you if it is truethat you mean to stay here and serve with our militia?"

"I mean to stay, " I said, slowly. 

"And serve?"

"If they desire it. "

"Why?" she asked, raising her bright eyes. 

I thought a moment, then said:

"I have decided to resist our King's soldiers. "

"But why here?" she repeated, clear eyes still on mine. "Tell me thetruth. "

"I think it is because you are here, " I said, soberly. 

The loveliest smile parted her lips. 

"I hoped you would say that. .. . Do I please you? Listen, cousin: I havea mad impulse to follow you--to be hindered rages me beyondendurance--as when Sir Lupus called me back. For, within the past hourthe strangest fancy has possessed me that we have little time left to betogether; that I should not let one moment slip to enjoy you. "

"Foolish prophetess, " I said, striving to laugh. 

"A prophetess?" she repeated under her breath. And, as we rode onthrough the forest dusk, her head drooped thoughtfully, shaded by herloosened hair. At last she looked up dreamily, musing aloud:

"No prophetess, cousin; only a child, nerveless and over-fretted withtoo much pleasure, tired out with excitement, having played too hard. Ido not know quite how I should conduct. I am unaccustomed to comradeslike you, cousin; and, in the untasted delights of such companionship, have run wild till my head swims wi' the humming thoughts you stir inme, and I long for a dark, still room and a bed to lie on, and think ofthis day's pleasures. "

After a silence, broken only by our horses treading the moist earth: "Ihave been starving for this companionship. .. . I was parched!. .. Cousin, have you let me drink too deeply? Have you been too kind? Why am I inthis new terror lest you--lest you tire of me and my silly speech? Oh, Iknow my thoughts have been too long pent! I could talk to you forever! Icould ride with you till I died! I am like a caged thing loosed, I tellyou--for I may tell you, may I not, cousin?"

"Tell me all you think, Dorothy. "

"I could tell you all--everything! I never had a thought that I do notdesire you to know, . .. Save one. .. . And that I do desire to tellyou . .. But cannot. .. . Cousin, why did you name your mare Isene?"

"An Indian girl in Florida bore that name; the Seminoles called herIssena. "

"And so you named your mare from her?"

"Yes. "

"Was she your friend--that you named your mare from her?"

"She lived a century ago--a princess. She wedded with a Huguenot. "

"Oh, " said Dorothy, "I thought she was perhaps your sweetheart. "

"I have none. "

"You never had one?"

"No. "

"Why?"

I turned in my saddle. 

"Why have you never had a gallant?"

"Oh, that is not the same. Men fall in love--or protest as much. And atwine they boast of their good fortunes, swearing each that his mistressis the fairest, and bragging till I yawn to listen. .. . And yet you sayyou never had a sweetheart?"

"Neither titled nor untitled, cousin. And, if I had, at home we neverspeak of it, deeming it a breach of honor. "

"Why?"

"For shame, I suppose. "

"Is it shameless to speak as I do?" she asked. 

"Not to me, Dorothy. I wish you might be spared all that unlicensedgossip that you hear at table--not that it could harm such innocence asyours! For, on my honor, I never knew a woman such as you, nor a maidso nobly fashioned!"

I stopped, meeting her wide eyes. 

"Say it, " she murmured. "It is happiness to hear you. "

"Then hear me, " I said, slowly. "Loyalty, devotion, tenderness, all areyour due; not alone for the fair body that holds your soul imprisoned, but for the pure tenant that dwells in it so sweetly behind the bluewindows of your eyes! Dorothy! Dorothy! Have I said too much? Yet I begthat you remember it, lest you forget me when I have gone from you. .. . And say to Sir George that I said it. .. . Tell him after you are wedded, and say that all men envy him, yet wish him well. For the day he weds heweds the noblest woman in all the confines of this earth!"

Dazed, she stared at me through the fading light; and I saw her eyes allwet in the shadow of her tangled hair and the pulse beating inher throat. 

"You are so good--so pitiful, " she said; "and I cannot even find thewords to tell you of those deep thoughts you stir in me--to tell you howsweetly you use me--"

"Tell me no more, " I stammered, all a-quiver at her voice. She shrankback as at a blow, and I, head swimming, frighted, penitent, caught hersmall hand in mine and drew her nearer; nor could I speak for the loudbeating of my heart. 

"What is it?" she murmured. "Have I pained you that you tremble so? Lookat me, cousin. I can scarce see you in the dusk. Have I hurt you? I loveyou dearly. "

Her horse moved nearer, our knees touched. In the forest darkness Ifound I held her waist imprisoned, and her arms were heavy on myshoulders. Then her lips yielded and her arms tightened around my neck, and that swift embrace in the swimming darkness kindled in me a flamethat has never died--that shall live when this poor body crumbles intodust, lighting my soul through its last dark pilgrimage. 

As for her, she sat up in her saddle with a strange little laugh, stillholding to my hand. "Oh, you are divine in all you lead me to, " shewhispered. "Never, never have I known delight in a kiss; and I have beenkissed, too, willing and against my will. But you leave me breathing myheart out and all a-tremble with a tenderness for you--no, not again, cousin, not yet. "

Then slowly the full wretchedness of guilt burned me, bone and soul, andwhat I had done seemed a black evil to a maid betrothed, and to the manwhose wine had quenched my thirst an hour since. 

Something of my thoughts she may have read in my bent head and faceaverted, for she leaned forward in her saddle, and drawing me by thearm, turned me partly towards her. 

"What troubles you?" she said, anxiously. 

"My treason to Sir George. "

"What treason?" she said, amazed. 

"That I--caressed you. "

She laughed outright. 

"Am I not free-until I wed? Do you imagine I should have signed myliberty away to please Sir George? Why, cousin, if I may not caress whomI choose and find a pleasure in the way you use me, I am no better thanthe winter log he buys to toast his shins at!"

Then she grew angry in her impatience, slapping her bridle down to rangeher horse up closer to mine. 

"Am I not to wed him?" she said. "Is not that enough? And I told him so, flatly, I warrant you, when Captain Campbell kissed me on theporch--which maddened me, for he was not to my fancy--but Sir Georgesaw him and there was like to be a silly scene until I made it plainthat I would endure no bonds before I wore a wedding-ring!" She laugheddeliciously. "I think he understands now that I am not yoked until Ibend my neck. And until I bend it I am free. So if I please you, kissme, . .. But leave me a little breath to draw, cousin, . .. And a saddleto cling to. .. . Now loose me--for the forest ends!"

[Illustration: "NOW LOOSE ME--FOR THE FOREST ENDS!". ]

A faint red light grew in the woodland gloom; a rushing noise likeswiftly flowing water filled my ears--or was it the blood that surgedsinging through my heart?

"Broadalbin Bush, " she murmured, clearing her eyes of the clouded hairand feeling for her stirrups with small, moccasined toes. "Hark! Now wehear the Kennyetto roaring below the hill. See, cousin, it is sunset, the west blazes, all heaven is afire! Ah! what sorcery has turned theworld to paradise--riding this day with you?"

She turned in her saddle with an exquisite gesture, pressed heroutstretched hand against my lips, then, gathering bridle, launched herhorse straight through the underbrush, out into a pasture where, acrossa naked hill, a few log-houses reddened in the sunset. 

There hung in the air a smell of sweetbrier as we drew bridle before acabin under the hill. I leaned over and plucked a handful of the leaves, bruising them in my palm to savor the spicy perfume. 

A man came to the door of the cabin and stared at us; a tap-roomsluggard, a-sunning on the west fence-rail, chewed his cud solemnly andwatched us with watery eyes. 

"Andrew Bowman, have you seen aught to fright folk on the mountain?"asked Dorothy, gravely. 

The man in the doorway shook his head. From the cabins near by a fewmen and women trooped out into the road and hastened towards us. One ofthe houses bore a bush, and I saw two men peering at us through the openwindow, pewters in hand. 

"Good people, " said Dorothy, quietly, "the patroon sends you word of astrange smoke seen this day in the hills. "

"There's smoke there now, " I said, pointing into the sunset. 

At that moment Peter Van Horn galloped up, halted, and turned his head, following the direction of my outstretched arm. Others came, blinkinginto the ruddy evening glow, craning their necks to see, and from thewretched tavern a lank lout stumbled forth, rifle shouldered, pewtera-slop, to learn the news that had brought us hither at that hour. 

"It is mist, " said a woman; but her voice trembled as she said it. 

"It is smoke, " growled Van Horn. "Read it, you who can. "

Whereat the fellow in the tavern window fell a-laughing and called downto his companion: "Francy McCraw! Francy McCraw! The Brandt-Meester saysa Mohawk fire burns in the north!"

"I hear him, " cried McCraw, draining his pewter. 

Dorothy turned sharply. "Oh, is that you, McCraw? What brings you to theBush?"

The lank fellow turned his wild, blue eyes on her, then gazed at thesmoke. Some of the men scowled at him. 

"Is that smoke?" I asked, sharply. "Answer me, McCraw!"

"A canna' deny it, " he said, with a mad chuckle. 

"Is it Indian smoke?" demanded Van Horn. 

"Aweel, " he replied, craning his skinny neck and cocking his headimpudently--"aweel, a'll admit that, too. It's Indian smoke; a cannadeny it, no. "

"Is it a Mohawk signal?" I asked, bluntly. 

At which he burst out into a crowing laugh. 

"What does he say?" called out the man from the tavern. "What does hesay, Francy McCraw?"

"He says it maun be Mohawk smoke, Danny Redstock. "

"And what if it is?" blustered Redstock, shouldering his way to McCraw, rifle in hand. "Keep your black looks for your neighbors, Andrew Bowman. What have we to do with your Mohawk fires?"

"Herman Salisbury!" cried Bowman to a neighbor, "do you hear what thisTory renegade says?"

"Quiet! Quiet, there, " said Redstock, swaggering out into the road. "Francy McCraw, our good neighbors are woful perplexed by that thread o'birch smoke yonder. "

"Then tell the feckless fools tae watch it!" screamed McCraw, seizinghis rifle and menacing the little throng of men and women who had closedswiftly in on him. "Hands off me, Johnny Putnam--back, for your life, Charley Cady! Ay, stare at the smoke till ye're eyes drop frae th'sockets! But no; there's some foulk 'ill tak' nae warnin'!"

He backed off down the road, followed by Redstock, rifles cocked. 

"An' ye'll bear me out, " he shouted, "that there's them wha' hear thesewords now shall meet their weirds ere a hunter's moon is wasted!"

He laughed his insane laugh and, throwing his rifle over his shoulder, halted, facing us. 

"Hae ye no heard o' Catrine Montour?" he jeered. "She'll come in thenight, Andrew Bowman! Losh, mon, but she's a grewsome carlin', wi' thewitch-locks hangin' to her neck an' her twa een blazin'!"

"You drive us out to-night!" shouted Redstock. "We'll remember it whenBrant is in the hills!"

"The wolf-yelp! Clan o' the wolf!" screamed McCraw. "Woe! Woe toBroadalbane! 'Tis the pibroch o' Glencoe shall wake ye to the woodsafire! Be warned! Be warned, for ye stand knee-deep in ye're shrouds!"

In the ruddy dusk their dark forms turned to shadows and were gone. 

Van Horn stirred in his saddle, then shook his shoulders as thoughfreeing them from a weight. 

"Now you have it, you Broadalbin men, " he said, grimly. "Go to the fortswhile there's time. "

In the darkness around us children began to whimper; a woman broke down, sobbing. 

"Silence!" cried Bowman, sternly. And to Dorothy, who sat quietly on herhorse beside him, "Say to the patroon that we know our enemies. And you, Peter Van Horn, on whichever side you stand, we men of the Bush thankyou and this young lady for your coming. "

And that was all. In silence we wheeled our horses northward, Van Hornriding ahead, and passed out of that dim hamlet which lay already in theshadows of an unknown terror. 

Behind us, as we looked back, one or two candles flickered in cabinwindows, pitiful, dim lights in the vast, dark ocean of the forest. Above us the stars grew clearer. A vesper-sparrow sang its pensive song. Tranquil, sweet, the serene notes floated into silver echoesnever-ending, till it seemed as if the starlight all around us quiveredinto song. 

I touched Dorothy, riding beside me, white as a spirit in the paleradiance, and she turned her sweet, fearless face to mine. 

"There is a sound, " I whispered, "very far away. "

She laid her hand in mine and drew bridle, listening. Van Horn, too, hadhalted. 

Far in the forest the sound stirred the silence; soft, stealthy, nearer, nearer, till it grew into a patter. Suddenly Van Horn's horse reared. 

"It's there! it's there!" he cried, hoarsely, as our horses swung roundin terror. 

"Look!" muttered Dorothy. 

Then a thing occurred that stopped my heart's blood. For straightthrough the forest came running a dark shape, a squattering thing thatpassed us ere we could draw breath to shriek; animal, human, or spirit, I knew not, but it ran on, thuddy-thud, thuddy-thud! and we strugglingwith our frantic horses to master them ere they dashed us lifeless amongthe trees. 

"Jesu!" gasped Van Horn, dragging his powerful horse back into the road. "Can you make aught o' yonder fearsome thing, like a wart-toadscrabbling on two legs?"

Dorothy, teeth set, drove her heels into her gray's ribs and forced himto where my mare stood all a-quiver. 

"It's a thing from hell, " panted Van Horn, fighting knee and wrist withhis roan. "My nag shies at neither bear nor wolf! Look at him now!"

"Nor mine at anything save a savage, " said I, fearfully peering behindme while my mare trembled under me. 

"I think we have seen a savage, that is all, " fell Dorothy's calm voice. "I think we have seen Catrine Montour. "

At the name, Van Horn swore steadily. 

"If that be the witch Montour, she runs like a clansman with the fierycross, " I said, shuddering. 

"And that is like to be her business, " muttered Van Horn. "The paintedforest-men are in the hills, and if Senecas, Cayugas, and Onondagas donot know it this night, it will be no fault of Catrine Montour. "

"Ride on, Peter, " said Dorothy, and checked her horse till my mare cameabreast. 

"Are you afraid?" I whispered. 

"Afraid? No!" she said, astonished. "What should arouse fear in me?"

"Your common-sense!" I said, impatiently, irritated to rudeness by theshocking and unearthly spectacle which had nigh unnerved me. But sheanswered very sweetly:

"If I fear nothing, it is because there is nothing that I know of in theworld to fright me. I remember, " she added, gravely, "'A thousand shallfall at my side and ten thousand at my right hand. And it shall not comenigh me. ' How can I fear, believing that?"

She leaned from her saddle and I saw her eyes searching my face in thedarkness. 

"Silly, " she said, tenderly, "I have no fear save that you should proveunkind. "

"Then give yourself to me, Dorothy, " I said, holding her imprisoned. 

"How can I? You have me. "

"I mean forever. "

"But I have. "

"I mean in wedlock!" I whispered, fiercely. 

"How can I, silly--I am promised!"

"Can I not stir you to love me?" I said. 

"To love you?. .. Better than I do?. .. You may try. "

"Then wed me!"

"If I were wed to you would I love you better than I do?" she asked. 

"Dorothy, Dorothy, " I begged, holding her fast, "wed me; I love you. "

She swayed back into her saddle, breaking my clasp. 

"You know I cannot, " she said. .. . Then, almost tenderly: "Do you trulydesire it? It is so dear to hear you say it--and I have heard the wordsoften enough, too, but never as you say them. .. . Had you asked me inDecember, ere I was in honor bound. .. . But I am promised; . .. Only aword, but it holds me like a chain. .. . Dear lad, forget it. .. . Use mekindly. .. . Teach me to love, . .. An unresisting pupil, . .. For all lifeis too short for me to learn in, . .. Alas!. .. God guard us both fromlove's unhappiness and grant us only its sweetness--which you havetaught me; to which I am--I am awaking, . .. After all these years, . .. After all these years without you. 

 * * * * *

Perhaps it were kinder to let me sleep. .. . I am but half awake to love. 

 * * * * *

Is it best to wake me, after all? Is it too late?. .. Draw bridle in thestarlight. Look at me. .. . It is too late, for I shall neversleep again. "

X

TWO LESSONS

For two whole days I did not see my cousin Dorothy, she lying abed withhot and aching head, and the blinds drawn to keep out all light. So Ihad time to consider what we had said and done, and to what we stoodcommitted. 

Yet, with time heavy on my hands and full leisure to think, I could makenothing of those swift, fevered hours together, nor what had happened tous that the last moments should have found us in each other's arms, hertear-stained eyes closed, her lips crushed to mine. For, within thatsame hour, at table, she told Sir Lupus to my very face that she desiredto wed Sir George as soon as might be, and would be content with nothingsave that Sir Lupus despatch a messenger to the pleasure house, biddingSir George dispose of his affairs so that the marriage fall within thefirst three days of June. 

I could not doubt my own ears, yet could scarce credit my shocked sensesto hear her; and I had sat there, now hot with anger, now in coldamazement; not touching food save with an effort that cost me all myself-command. 

As for Sir Lupus, his astonishment and delight disgusted me, for he fella-blubbering in his joy, loading his daughter with caresses, breakingout into praises of her, lauding above all her filial gratitude and herconstancy to Sir George, whom he also larded and smeared withcompliments till his eulogium, buttered all too thick for my weakenedstomach, drove me from the table to pace the dark porch and strive toreconcile all these warring memories a-battle in my swimming brain. 

What demon possessed her to throw away time, when time was our mostprecious ally, our only hope! With time--if she truly loved me--whatmight not be done? And here, too, was another ally swiftly coming to ouraid on Time's own wings--the war!--whose far breath already fanned theMohawk smoke on the northern hills! And still another friendly allystood to aid us--absence! For, with Sir George away, plunged into newscenes, new hopes, new ambitions, he might well change in hisaffections. An officer, and a successful one, rising higher every day inthe esteem of his countrymen, should find all paths open, all doorsunlocked, and a gracious welcome among those great folk of New Yorkcity, whose princely mode of living might not only be justified, buteven titled under a new régime and a new monarchy. 

These were the half-formed, maddened thoughts that went a-racing throughmy mind as I paced the porch that night; and I think they were, perhaps, the most unworthy thoughts that ever tempted me. For I hated Sir Georgeand wished him a quick flight to immortality unless he changed in hisdesire for wedlock with my cousin. 

Gnawing my lips in growing rage I saw the messenger for the pleasurehouse mount and gallop out of the stockade, and I wished him evil chanceand a fall to dash his senses out ere he rode up with his cursed messageto Sir George's door. 

Passion blinded and deafened me to all whispers of decency; consciencelay stunned within me, and I think I know now what black obsessiondrives men's bodies into murder and their souls to punishments eternal. 

Quivering from head to heel, now hot, now cold, and strangling with thefierce desire for her whom I was losing more hopelessly every moment, Istarted aimlessly through the starlight, pacing the stockade like acaged beast, and I thought my swelling heart would choke me if it brokenot to ease my breath. 

So this was love! A ghastly thing, God wot, to transform an honest man, changing and twisting right and wrong until the threads of decency andduty hung too hopelessly entangled for him to follow or untwine. Onlyone thing could I see or understand: I desired her whom I loved and wasnow fast losing forever. 

Chance and circumstance had enmeshed me; in vain I struggled in the netof fate, bruised, stunned, confused with grief and this new fire ofpassion which had flashed up around me until I had inhaled the flamesand must forever bear their scars within as long as my seared heartcould pulse. 

As I stood there under the dim trees, dumb, miserable, straining my earsfor the messenger's return, came my cousin Dorothy in the pale, floweredgown she wore at supper, and ere she perceived me I saw her searchingfor me, treading the new grass without a sound, one hand pressed to herparted lips. 

When she saw me she stood still, and her hands fell loosely to her side. 

"Cousin, " she said, in a faint voice. 

And, as I did not answer, she stepped nearer till I could see her blueeyes searching mine. 

"What have you done!" I cried, harshly. 

"I do not know, " she said. 

"I know, " I retorted, fiercely. "Time was all we had--a few poorhours--a day or two together. And with time there was chance, and withchance, hope. You have killed all three!"

"No; . .. There was no chance; there is no longer any time; there neverwas any hope. "

"There was hope!" I said, bitterly. 

"No, there was none, " she murmured. 

"Then why did you tell me that you were free till the yoke locked you tohim? Why did you desire to love? Why did you bid me teach you? Why didyou consent to my lips, my arms? Why did you awake me?"

"God knows, " she said, faintly. 

"Is that your defence?" I asked. "Have you no defence?"

"None. .. . I had never loved. .. . I found you kind and I had known no manlike you. .. . Every moment with you entranced me till, . .. I don't knowwhy, . .. That sweet madness came upon . .. Us . .. Which can never comeagain--which must never come. .. . Forgive me. I did not understand. Lovewas a word to me. "

"Dorothy, Dorothy, what have I done!" I stammered. 

"Not you, but I, . .. And now it is plain to me why, unwedded, I standyoked together with my honor, and you stand apart, fettered to yours. .. . We have shaken our chains in play, the links still hold firm and bright;but if we break them, then, as they snap, our honor dies forever. Forwhat I have done in idle ignorance forgive me, and leave me to mypenance, . .. Which must last for all my life, cousin. .. . And you willforget. .. . Hush! dearest lad, and let me speak. Well, then I will saythat I pray you may forget! Well, then I will not say that to grieveyou. .. . I wish you to remember--yet not know the pain that I--"

"Dorothy, Dorothy, do you still love me?"

"Oh, I do love you!. .. No, no! I ask you to spare me even the touch ofyour hand! I ask it, I beg you to spare me! I implore--Be a shield tome! Aid me, cousin. I ask it for the Ormond honor and for the honor ofthe roof that shelters us both!. .. Now do you understand?. .. Oh, Iknew you to be all that I adore and worship!

 * * * * *

Our fault was in our ignorance. How could we know of that hidden firewithin us, stirring its chilled embers in all innocence until the flamesflashed out and clothed us both in glory, cousin? Heed me, lest it turnto flames of hell!

 * * * * *

And now, dear lad, lest you should deem me mad to cut short the happytime we had to hope for, I must tell you what I have never told before. All that we have in all the world is by charity of Sir George. He stoodin the breach when the Cosby heirs made ready to foreclose on father; heheld off the Van Rensselaers; he threw the sop to Billy Livingston andto that great villain, Klock. To-day, unsecured, his loans to my father, still unpaid, have nigh beggared him. And the little he has he is aboutto risk in this war whose tides are creeping on us through thisvery night. 

 * * * * *

And when he honored me by asking me in marriage, I, knowing all this, knowing all his goodness and his generosity--though he was not aware Iknew it--I was thankful to say yes--deeming it little enough to pleasehim--and I not knowing what love meant--"

Her soft voice broke; she laid her hands on her eyes, and stood so, speaking blindly. "What can I do, cousin? What can I do? Tell me! I loveyou. Tell me, use me kindly; teach me to do right and keep my honorbright as you could desire it were I to be your wife!"

It was that appeal, I think, that brought me back through the distortedshadows of my passion; through the dark pit of envy, past snares ofjealousy and malice, and the traps and pitfalls dug by Satan, safe tothe trembling rock of honor once again. 

Like a blind man healed by miracle, yet still groping in the preciouslight that mazed him, so I peering with aching eyes for those threads toguide me in my stunned perplexity. But when at last I felt their touch, I found I held one already--the thread of hope--and whether for good orevil I did not drop it, but gathered all together and wove them to arope to hold by. 

"What is it I must swear, " I asked, cold to the knees. 

"Never again to kiss me. "

"Never again. "

"Nor to caress me. "

"Nor to caress you. "

"Nor speak of love. "

"Nor speak of love. "

"And . .. That is all, " she faltered. 

"No, not all. I swear to love you always, never to forget you, never toprove unworthy in your eyes, never to wed; living, to honor you; dying, with your name upon my lips. "

She had stretched out her arms towards me as though warning me to stop;but, as I spoke slowly, weighing each word and its cost, her handstrembled and sought each other so that she stood looking at me, fingersinterlocked and her sweet face as white as death. 

And after a long time she came to me, and, raising my hands, kissedthem; and I touched her hair with dumb lips; and she stole away throughthe starlight like a white ghost returning to its tomb. 

And long after, long, long after, as I stood there, broke on my wraptears the far stroke of horse's hoofs, nearer, nearer, until the blackbulk of the rider rose up in the night and Sir Lupus came to the porch. 

"Eh! What?" he cried. "Sir George away with the Palatine rebels? Where?Gone to Stanwix? Now Heaven have mercy on him for a madman who mixes inthis devil's brew! And he'll drown me with him, too! Dammy, they'll saythat I'm in with him. But I'm not! Curse me if I am. I'mneutral--neither rebel nor Tory--and I'll let 'em know it, too; onlydesiring quiet and peace and a fair word for all. Damnation!"

 * * * * *

And so had ended that memorable day and night; and now for two wholewretched days I had not seen Dorothy, nor heard of her save throughRuyven, who brought us news that she lay on her bed in the dark with nodesire for company. 

"There is a doctor at Johnstown, " he said; "but Dorothy refuses, sayingthat she is only tired and requires peace and rest. I don't like it, Cousin George. Never have I seen her ill, nor has any one. Suppose youlook at her, will you?"

"If she will permit me, " I said, slowly. "Ask her, Ruyven. "

But he returned, shaking his head, and I sat down once more upon theporch to think of her and of all I loved in her; and how I must striveto fashion my life so that I do naught that might shame me shouldshe know. 

Now that it was believed that factional bickering between theinhabitants of Tryon County might lead, in the immediate future, tosomething more serious than town brawls and tavern squabbles; and, more-over, as the Iroquois agitation had already resulted in thewithdrawal to Fort Niagara of the main body of the Mohawk nation--forwhat ominous purpose it might be easy to guess--Sir Lupus forbade thechildren to go a-roaming outside his own boundaries. 

Further, he had cautioned his servants and tenants not to rove out ofbounds, to avoid public houses like the "Turtle-dove and Olive, " and torefrain from busying themselves about matters in which they hadno concern. 

Yet that very day, spite of the patroon's orders, when GeneralSchuyler's militia-call went out, one-half of his tenantry disappearedovernight, abandoning everything save their live-stock and a rough cartheaped with household furniture; journeying with women and children, goods and chattels, towards the nearest block-house or fort, there todeposit all except powder-horn, flint, and rifle, and join the districtregiment now laboring with pick and shovel on the works at Fort Stanwix. 

As I sat there on the porch, wretched, restless, debating what course Ishould take in the presence of this growing disorder which, as I havesaid, had already invaded our own tenantry, came Sir Lupus a-waddling, pipe in hand, and Cato bearing his huge chair so he might sit in thesun, which was warm on the porch. 

"You've heard what my tenant rascals have done?" he grunted, settling inhis chair and stretching his fat legs. 

"Yes, sir, " I said. 

"What d' ye think of it? Eh? What d' ye think?"

"I think it is very pitiful and sad to see these poor creatures leavingtheir little farms to face the British regulars--and starvation. "

"Face the devil!" he snorted. "Nobody forces 'em!"

"The greater honor due them, " I retorted. 

"Honor! Fol-de-rol! Had it been any other patroon but me, he'd turn hismanor-house into a court-house, arrest 'em, try 'em, and hang a few forluck! In the old days, I'll warrant you, the Cosbys would have stood nosuch nonsense--no, nor the Livingstons, nor the Van Cortlandts. Ahundred lashes here and there, a debtor's jail, a hanging or two, wouldhave made things more cheerful. But I, curse me if I could ever bringmyself to use my simplest prerogatives; I can't whip a man, no! I can'thang a man for anything--even a sheep-thief has his chance with me--likethat great villain, Billy Bones, who turned renegade and joined DannyRedstock and the McCraw. "

He snorted in self-contempt and puffed savagely at his clay pipe. 

"La patroon? Dammy, I'm an old woman! Get me my knitting! I want myknitting and a sunny spot to mumble my gums and wait for noon and a disho' porridge!. .. George, my rents are cut in half, and half my farmsleft to the briers and wolves in one day, because his Majesty, GeneralSchuyler, orders his Highness, Colonel Dayton, to call out half themilitia to make a fort for his Eminence, Colonel Gansevoort!"

"At Stanwix?"

"They call it Fort Schuyler now--after his Highness in Albany. 

"Sir Lupus, " I said, "if it is true that the British mean to invade ushere with Brant's Mohawks, there is but one bulwark between Tryon Countyand the enemy, and that is Fort Stanwix. Why, in Heaven's name, shouldit not be defended? If this British officer and his renegades, regulars, and Indians take Stanwix and fortify Johnstown, the whole country willswarm with savages, outlaws, and a brutal soldiery already hardened andmade callous by a year of frontier warfare!

"Can you not understand this, sir? Do you think it possible for theseblood-drunk ruffians to roam the Mohawk and Sacandaga valleys andrespect you and yours just because you say you are neutral? Turn loose apack of famished panthers in a common pasture and mark your sheep withyour device and see how many are alive at daybreak!"

"Dammy, sir!" cried Sir Lupus, "the enemy are led by British gentlemen. "

"Who doubtless will keep their own cuffs clean; it were shame to doubtit! But if the Mohawks march with them there'll be a bloody page inTryon County annals. "

"The Mohawks will not join!" he said, violently. "Has not Schuyler helda council-fire and talked with belts to the entire confederacy?"

"The confederacy returned no belts, " I said, "and the Mohawks were notpresent. "

"Kirkland saw Brant, " he persisted, obstinately. 

"Yes, and sent a secret report to Albany. If there had been good news inthat report, you Tryon County men had heard it long since, Sir Lupus. "

"With whom have you been talking, sir?" he sneered, removing his pipefrom his yellow teeth. 

"With one of your tenants yesterday, a certain Christian Schell, latelyreturned with Stoner's scout. "

"And what did Stoner's men see in the northwest?" he demanded, contemptuously. 

"They saw half a thousand Mohawks with eyes painted in black circles andwhite, Sir Lupus. "

"For the planting-dance!" he muttered. 

"No, Sir Lupus. The castles are empty, the villages deserted. There isnot one Mohawk left on their ancient lands, there is not one seedplanted, not one foot of soil cultivated, not one apple-bough grafted, not one fish-line set!

"And you tell me the Mohawks are painted for the planting-dance, inblack and white? With every hatchet shining like silver, and everyknife ground to a razor-edge, and every rifle polished, and everyflint new?"

"Who saw such things?" he asked, hoarsely. 

"Christian Schell, of Stoner's scout. "

"Now God curse them if they lift an arm to harm a Tryon County man!" heburst out. "I'll not believe it of the British gentlemen who differ withus over taxing tea! No, dammy if I'll credit such a monstrous thing asthis alliance!"

"Yet, a few nights since, sir, you heard Walter Butler and Sir Johnthreaten to use the Mohawks. "

"And did not heed them!" he said, angrily. "It is all talk, all threats, and empty warning. I tell you they dare not for their names' sakesemploy the savages against their own kind--against friends who think notas they think--against old neighbors, ay, their own kin!

"Nor dare we. Look at Schuyler--a gentleman, if ever there was one onthis rotten earth--standing, belts in hand, before the sachems of theconfederacy, not soliciting Cayuga support, not begging Seneca aid, notproposing a foul alliance with the Onondagas; but demanding rightmanfully that the confederacy remain neutral; nay, more, he repulsedoffers of warriors from the Oneidas to scout for him, knowing what thatsweet word 'scout' implied--God bless him I . .. I have no love forSchuyler. .. . He lately called me 'malt-worm, ' and, if I'm not at fault, he added, 'skin-flint Dutchman, ' or some such tribute to my thrift. Buthe has conducted like a man of honor in this Iroquois matter, and I carenot who hears me say it!"

He settled himself in his chair, mumbling in a rumbling voice, and all Icould make out was here and there a curse or two distributed impartially'twixt Tory and rebel and other asses now untethered in the world. 

"Well, sir, " I said, "from all I can gather, Burgoyne is marchingsouthward through the lakes, and Clinton is gathering an army in NewYork to march north and meet Burgoyne, and now comes this Barry St. Leger on the flank, aiming to join the others at Albany after takingStanwix and Johnstown on the march--three spears to pierce a commoncentre, three torches to fire three valleys, and you neutral Tryon menin the centre, calm, undismayed, smoking your pipes and singing songs ofpeace and good-will for all on earth. "

"And why not, sir!" he snapped. 

"Did you ever hear of Juggernaut?"

"I've heard the name--a Frenchman, was he not? I think he burnedSchenectady. "

"No, sir; he is a heathen god. "

"And what the devil, sir, has Tryon County to do with heathen gods!" hebawled. 

"You shall see--when the wheels pass, " I said, gloomily. 

He folded his fat hands over his stomach and smoked in obstinatesilence. I, too, was silent; again a faint disgust for this man seizedme. How noble and unselfish now appeared the conduct of those poortenants of his who had abandoned their little farms to answer Schuyler'scall!--trudging northward with wives and babes, trusting to God forbread to fall like manna in this wilderness to save the frail lives oftheir loved ones, while they faced the trained troops of Great Britain, and perhaps the Iroquois. 

And here he sat, the patroon, sucking his pipe, nursing his stomach; toocautious, too thrifty to stand like a man, even for the honor of his ownroof-tree! Lord! how mean, how sordid did he look to me, sulking there, his mottled double-chin crowded out upon his stock, his bow-legs wide tocradle the huge belly, his small eyes obstinately a-squint and partlyshut, which lent a gross shrewdness to the expanse of fat, almostbaleful, like the eye of a squid in its shapeless, jellied body!

"What are your plans?" he said, abruptly. 

I told him that, through Sir George, I had placed my poor services atthe State's disposal. 

"You mean the rebel State's disposal?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Then you are ready to enlist?"

"Quite ready, Sir Lupus. "

"Only awaiting summons from Clinton and Schuyler?" he sneered. 

"That is all, sir. "

"And what about your properties in Florida?"

"I can do nothing there. If they confiscate them in my absence, theymight do worse were I to go back and defy them. I believe my life isworth something to our cause, and it would be only to waste it foolishlyif I returned to fight for a few indigo-vats and canefields. "

"While you can remain here and fight for other people's hen-coops, eh?"

"No, sir; only to take up the common quarrel and stand for that libertywhich we inherited from those who now seek to dispossess us. "

"Quite an orator!" he observed, grimly. "The Ormonds were formerly moreready with their swords than with their tongues. "

"I trust I shall not fail to sustain their traditions, " I said, controlling my anger with a desperate effort. 

He burst out into a hollow laugh. 

"There you go, red as a turkey-cock and madder than a singed tree-cat!George, can't you let me plague you in comfort! Dammy, it's undutiful!For pity's sake! let me sneer--let me gibe and jeer if it eases me. "

I glared at him, half inclined to laugh. 

"Curse it!" he said, wrathfully, "I'm serious. You don't know howserious I am. It's no laughing matter, George. I must do something toease me!" He burst out into a roar, swearing in volleys. 

"D' ye think I wish to appear contemptible?" he shouted. "D' ye think Ilike to sit here like an old wife, scolding in one breath and preachingthrift in the next? A weak-kneed, chicken-livered, white-bellied oldbullfrog that squeaks and jumps, plunk! into the puddle when a footstepfalls in the grass! Am I not a patroon? Am I not Dutch? Granted I'm fatand slow and a glutton, and lazy as a wolverine. I can fight like one, too! Don't make any mistake there, George!"

His broad face flushed crimson, his little, green eyes snapped fire. 

"D' ye think I don't love a fight as well as my neighbor? D' ye thinkI've a stomach for insults and flouts and winks and nudges? Have I aliver to sit doing sums on my thumbs when these impudent British arekicking my people out of their own doors? Am I of a kidney to smile andbow, and swallow and digest the orders of Tory swashbucklers, who laydown a rule of conduct for men who should be framing rules of commondecency for them? D' ye think I'm a snail or a potato or an empty pairo' breeches? Damnation!"

Rage convulsed him. He recovered his self-command slowly, smashing hispipe in the interval; and I, astonished beyond measure, waited for theexplanation which he appeared to be disposed to give. 

"If I'm what I am, " he said, hoarsely, "an old jack-ass he-hawing'Peace! peace! thrift! thrift!' it is because I must and not because themusic pleases me. .. . And I had not meant to tell you why--for none othersuspects it--but my personal honor is at stake. I am in debt to afriend, George, and unless I am left in peace here to collect my tithesand till my fields and run my mills and ship my pearl-ashes, I can neverhope to pay a debt of honor incurred--and which I mean to pay, if Ilive, so help me God!

"Lad, if this house, these farms, these acres were my own, do you thinkI'd hesitate to polish up that old sword yonder that my father carriedwhen Schenectady went up in flames?. .. Know me better, George!. .. Knowthat this condemnation to inaction is the bitterest trial I have everknown. How easy it would be for me to throw my own property into onebalance, my sword into the other, and say, 'Defend the one with theother or be robbed!' But I can't throw another man's lands into thebalance. I can't raise the war-yelp and go careering about after glorywhen I owe every shilling I possess and thousands more to an honorableand generous gentleman who refused all security for the loan save my ownword of honor. 

"And now, simple, brave, high-minded as he is, he offers to return me myword of honor, free me from his debt, and leave me unshackled to conductin this coming war as I see fit. 

"But that is more than he can do, George. My word once pledged can onlybe redeemed by what it stood for, and he is powerless to give it back. 

"That is all, sir. .. . Pray think more kindly of an old fool in future, when you plume yourself upon your liberty to draw sword in the most justcause this world has ever known. "

"It is I who am the fool, Sir Lupus, " I said, in a low voice. 

XI

LIGHTS AND SHADOWS

I remember it was the last day of May before I saw my cousin Dorothyagain. 

Late that afternoon I had taken a fishing-rod and a book, The Poems ofPansard, and had set out for the grist-mill on the stream below thelog-bridge; but did not go by road, as the dust was deep, so insteadcrossed the meadow and entered the cool thicket, making a shorter routeto the stream. 

Through the woodland, as I passed, I saw violets in hollows and blueinnocence starring moist glades with its heavenly color, and in thedrier woods those slender-stemmed blue bell-flowers which some call theVenus's looking-glass. 

In my saddened and rebellious heart a more innocent passion stirred andawoke--the tender pleasure I have always found in seeking out those shypeople of the forest, the wild blossoms--a harmless pleasure, for it isever my habit to leave them undisturbed upon their stalks. 

Deeper in the forest pink moccasin-flowers bloomed among rocks, and theair was tinctured with a honeyed smell from the spiked orchis cradled inits sheltering leaf under the hemlock shade. 

Once, as I crossed a marshy place, about me floated a violet perfume, and I was at a loss to find its source until I espied a single purpleblossom of the Arethusa bedded in sturdy thickets of rose-azalea, faintly spicy, and all humming with the wings of plundering bees. 

Underfoot my shoes brushed through spikenard, and fell silently oncarpets of moss-pinks, and once I saw a matted bed of late Mayflower, and the forest dusk grew sweeter and sweeter, saturating all thewoodland, until each breath I drew seemed to intoxicate. 

Spring languor was in earth and sky, and in my bones, too; yet, throughthis Northern forest ever and anon came faint reminders of recedingsnows, melting beyond the Canadas--delicate zephyrs, tinctured with thefar scent of frost, flavoring the sun's balm at moments with asharper essence. 

Now traversing a ferny space edged in with sweetbrier, a breezeaccompanied me, caressing neck and hair, stirring a sudden warmth uponmy cheek like a breathless maid close beside me, whispering. 

Then through the rustle of leafy depths I heard the stream's laughter, very far away, and I turned to the left across the moss, walking moreswiftly till I came to the log-bridge where the road crosses. Below meleaped the stream, deep in its ravine of slate, roaring over the damabove the rocky gorge only to flow out again between the ledge and thestone foundations of the grist-mill opposite. Down into the ravine andunder the dam I climbed, using the mossy steps that nature had cut inthe slate, and found a rock to sit on where the spray from the dam couldnot drench me. And here I baited my hook and cast out, so that theswirling water might carry my lure under the mill's foundations, whereRuyven said big, dusky trout most often lurked. 

But I am no fisherman, and it gives me no pleasure to drag a finnycreature from its element and see its poor mouth gasp and its eyes glazeand the fiery dots on its quivering sides grow dimmer. So when a slytrout snatched off my bait I was in no mood to cover my hook again, butset the rod on the rocks and let the bright current waft my line as itwould, harmless now as the dusty alder leaves dimpling yonder ripple. SoI opened my book, idly attentive, reading The Poems of Pansard, whiledappled shadows of clustered maple leaves moved on the page, and droningbees set old Pansard's lines to music. 

 "Like two sweet skylarks springing skyward, singing, Piercing the empyrean of blinding light, So shall our souls take flight, serenely winging, Soaring on azure heights to God's delight; While from below through sombre deeps come stealing The floating notes of earthward church-bells pealing. "

My thoughts wandered and the yellow page faded to a glimmer amid palespots of sunshine waning when some slow cloud drifted across the sun. Again my eyes returned to the printed page, and again thought partedfrom its moorings, a derelict upon the tide of memory. Far in the forestI heard the white-throat's call with the endless, sad refrain, "Weep-wee-p! Dorothy, Dorothy, Dorothy!" Though some vow that the littlebird sings plainly, "Sweet-sw-eet! Canada, Canada, Canada!"

Then for a while I closed my eyes until, slowly, that awakening sensethat somebody was looking at me came over me, and I raised my head. 

Dorothy stood on the log-bridge above the dam, elbows on the rail, gazing pensively at me. 

"Well, of all idle men!" she said, steadying her voice perceptibly. "Shall I come down?"

And without waiting for a reply she walked around to the south end ofthe bridge and began to descend the ravine. 

I offered assistance; she ignored it and picked her own way down thecleft to the stream-side. 

"It seems a thousand years since I have seen you, " she said. "What haveyou been doing all this while? What are you doing now? Reading? Oh!fishing! And can you catch nothing, silly?. .. Give me that rod. .. . No, I don't want it, after all; let the trout swim in peace. .. . How pale youhave grown, cousin!"

"You also, Dorothy, " I said. 

"Oh, I know that; there's a glass in my room, thank you. .. . I thoughtI'd come down. .. . There is company at the house--some of ColonelGansevoort's officers, Third Regiment of the New York line, if youplease, and two impudent young ensigns of the Half-moon Regiment, all ontheir way to Stanwix fort. "

She seated herself on the deep moss and balanced her back against asilver-birch tree. 

"They're at the house, all these men, " she said; "and what do you think?General Schuyler and his lady are to arrive this evening, and I'm toreceive them, dressed in my best tucker!. .. And there may be otherswith them, though the General comes on a tour of inspection, beinganxious lest disorder break out in this district if he is compelled toabandon Ticonderoga. .. . What do you think of that--George?"

My name fell so sweetly, so confidently, from her lips that I looked upin warm pleasure and found her grave eyes searching mine. 

"Make it easier for me, " she said, in a low voice. "How can I talk toyou if you do not answer me?"

"I--I mean to answer, Dorothy, " I stammered; "I am very thankful foryour kindness to me. "

"Do you think it is hard to be kind to you?" she murmured. "Whathappiness if I only might be kind!" She hid her face in her hands andbowed her head. "Pay no heed to me, " she said; "I--I thought I couldsee you and control this rebel tongue of mine. And here am I with heartinsurgent beating the long roll and every nerve a-quiver with sedition!"

"What are you saying?" I protested, miserably. 

She dropped her hands from her face and gazed at me quite calmly. 

"Saying? I was saying that these rocks are wet, and that I was silly tocome down here in my Pompadour shoes and stockings, and I'm silly tostay here, and I'm going!"

And go she did, up over the moss and rock like a fawn, and I after herto the top of the bank, where she seemed vastly surprised to see me. 

"Now I pray you choose which way you mean to stroll, " she said, impatiently. "Here lie two paths, and I will take this straight andnarrow one. "

She turned sharply and I with her, and for a long time we walkedswiftly, side by side, exchanging neither word nor glance until at lastshe stopped short, seated herself on a mossy log, and touched her hotface with a crumpled bit of lace and cambric. 

"I tell you what, Mr. Longshanks!" she said. "I shall go no farther withyou unless you talk to me. Mercy on the lad with his seven-league boots!He has me breathless and both hat-strings flying and my shoe-pointsdragging to trip my heels! Sit down, sir, till I knot my ribbons undermy ear; and I'll thank you to tie my shoe-points! Not doubled in asailor's-knot, silly!. .. And, oh, cousin, I would I had a sun-mask!. .. Now you are laughing! Oh, I know you think me a country hoyden, carelessof sunburn and dust! But I'm not. I love a smooth, white skin as well asany London beau who praises it in verses. And I shall have one formyself, too. You may see, to-night, if the Misses Carmichael come withLady Schuyler, for we'll have a dance, perhaps, and I mean to paint andpatch and powder till you'd swear me a French marquise!. .. Cousin, thisnarrow forest pathway leads across the water back to the house. Shall wetake it?. .. You will have to carry me over the stream, for I'll not wetmy shins for love of any man, mark that!"

She tied her pink hat-ribbons under her chin and stood up while I madeready; then I lifted her from the ground. Very gravely she dropped herarms around my neck as I stepped into the rushing current and waded out, the water curling almost to my knee-buckles. So we crossed thegrist-mill stream in silence, eyes averted from each other's faces; andin silence, too, we resumed the straight and narrow path, now deep withlast year's leaves, until we came to a hot, sandy bank covered with wildstrawberries, overlooking the stream. 

In a moment she was on her knees, filling her handkerchief withstrawberries, and I sat down in the yellow sand, eyes following thestream where it sparkled deep under its leafy screen below. 

"Cousin, " she said, timidly, "are you displeased?"

"Why?"

"At my tyranny to make you bear me across the stream--with all yourheavier burdens, and my own--"

"I ask no sweeter burdens, " I replied. 

She seated herself in the sand and placed a scarlet berry between lipsthat matched it. 

"I have tried very hard to talk to you, " she said. 

"I don't know what to say, Dorothy, " I muttered. "Truly I do desire toamuse you and make you laugh--as once I did. But the heart of everythingseems dead. There! I did not mean that! Don't hide your face, Dorothy!Don't look like that! I--I cannot bear it. And listen, cousin; we are tobe quite happy. I have thought it all out, and I mean to be gay andamuse you. .. . Won't you look at me, Dorothy?" "Wh--why?" she asked, unsteadily. 

"Just to see how happy I am--just to see that I pull no longfaces--idiot that I was!. .. Dorothy, will you smile just once?"

"Yes, " she whispered, lifting her head and raising her wet lashes. Presently her lips parted in one of her adorable smiles. "Now that youhave made me weep till my nose is red you may pick me every strawberryin sight, " she said, winking away the bright tears. "You have heard ofthe penance of the Algonquin witch?"

I knew nothing of Northern Indian lore, and I said so. 

"What? You never heard of the Stonish Giants? You never heard of theFlying Head? Mercy on the boy! Sit here and we'll eat strawberries and Ishall tell you tales of the Long House. .. . Sit nearer, for I shall speakin a low voice lest old Atotarho awake from his long sleep and the deadpines ring hollow, like witch-drums under the yellow-hammer's doubleblows. .. . Are you afraid?"

"All a-shiver, " I whispered, gayly. 

"Then listen, " she breathed, raising one pink-tipped finger. "This isthe tale of the Eight Thunders, told in the oldest tongue of theconfederacy and to all ensigns of the three clans ere the Erians suedfor peace. Therefore it is true. 

"Long ago, the Holder of the Heavens made a very poisonous blue otter, and the Mohawks killed it and threw its body into the lake. And theHolder of Heaven came to the eastern door of the Long House and knocked, saying: 'Where is the very poisonous blue otter that I made, O Keepersof the Eastern Door?'

"'Who calls?' asked the Mohawks, peeping out to see. 

"Then the Holder of the Heavens named himself, and the Mohawks wereafraid and hid in the Long House, listening. 

"'Be afraid! O you wise men and sachems! The wisdom of a child alone cansave you!' said the Holder of the Heavens. Saying this he wrappedhimself in a bright cloud and went like a swift arrow to the sun. "

My cousin's voice had fallen into a low, melodious sing-song; her rapteyes were fixed on me. 

"A youth of the Mohawks loved a maid, and they sat by the lake at night, counting the Dancers in the sky--which we call stars of the Pleiades. 

"'One has fallen into the lake, ' said the youth. 

"'It is the eye of the very poisonous blue otter, ' replied the maid, beginning to cry. 

"'I see the lost Dancer shining down under the water, ' said the youthagain. Then he bade the maid go back and wait for him; and she went backand built a fire and sat sadly beside it. Then she heard some one comingand turned around. A young man stood there dressed in white, and withwhite feathers on his head. 'You are sad, ' he said to the maid, 'but wewill help you. ' Then he gave her a belt of purple wampum to show that hespoke the truth. 

"'Follow, ' he said; and she followed to a place in the forest wheresmoke rose. There she saw a fire, and, around it, eight chiefs sitting, with white feathers on their heads. 

"'These chiefs are the Eight Thunders, ' she thought; 'now they will helpme. ' And she said: 'A Dancer has fallen out of the sky and a Mohawkyouth has plunged for it. '

"'The blue otter has turned into a serpent, and the Mohawk youth beheldher eye under the waters, ' they said, one after the other. The maid weptand laid the wampum at her feet. Then she rubbed ashes on her lips andon her breasts and in the palms of her hands. 

"'The Mohawk youth has wedded the Lake Serpent, ' they said, one afterthe other. The maid wept; and she rubbed ashes on her thighs and onher feet. 

"'Listen, ' they said, one after another; 'take strawberries and go tothe lake. You will know what to do. When that is done we will come inthe form of a cloud on the lake, not in the sky. '

"So she found strawberries in the starlight and went to the lake, calling, 'Friend! Friend! I am going away and wish to see you!'

"Out on the lake the water began to boil, and coming out of it she sawher friend. He had a spot on his forehead and looked like a serpent, andyet like a man. Then she spread the berries on the shore and he came tothe land and ate. Then he went back to the shore and placed his lips tothe water, drinking. And the maid saw him going down through the waterlike a snake. So she cried, 'Friends! Friends! I am going away and wishto see you!'

"The lake boiled and her friend came out of it. The lake boiled oncemore; not in one spot alone, but all over, like a high sea spouting ona reef. 

"Out of the water came her friend's wife, beautiful to behold andshining with silver scales. Her long hair fell all around her, andseemed like silver and gold. When she came ashore she stretched out onthe sand and took a strawberry between her lips. The young maid watchedthe lake until she saw something moving on the waters a great way off, which seemed like a cloud. 

"In a moment the stars went out and it grew dark, and it thundered tillthe skies fell down, torn into rain by the terrible lightning. All wasstill at last, and it grew lighter. The maid opened her eyes to findherself in the arms of her friend. But at their feet lay the dyingsparks of a shattered star. 

"Then as they went back through the woods the eight chiefs passed themin Indian file, and they saw them rising higher and higher, till theywent up to the sky like mists at sunrise. "

Dorothy's voice died away; she stretched out one arm. 

[Illustration: "THIS IS THE END, O YOU WISE MEN AND SACHEMS!". ]

"This is the end, O you wise men and sachems, told since the beginningto us People of the Morning. Hiro [I have spoken]!"

Then a startling thing occurred; up from the underbrush behind us rose atall Indian warrior, naked to the waist, painted from belt to brow withterrific, nameless emblems and signs. I sprang to my feet, horror-struck; the savage folded his arms, quietly smiling; and I sawknife and hatchet resting in his belt and a long rifle on the mossat his feet. 

"Kôue! That was a true tale, " he said, in good English. "It is a miraclethat one among you sings the truth concerning us poor Mohawks. "

"Do you come in peace?" I asked, almost stunned. 

He made a gesture. "Had I come otherwise, you had known it!" He lookedstraight at Dorothy. "You are the patroon's daughter. Does he speak astruthfully of the Mohawks as do you?"

"Who are you?" I asked, slowly. 

He smiled again. "My name is Brant, " he said. 

"Joseph Brant! Thayendanegea!" murmured Dorothy, aloud. 

"A cousin of his, " said the savage, carelessly. Then he turned sternlyon me. "Tell that man who follows me that I could have slain him twicewithin the hour; once at the ford, once on Stoner's hill. Does he takeme for a deer? Does he believe I wear war-paint? There is no war betwixtthe Mohawks and the Boston people--yet! Tell that fool to go home!"

"What fool?" I asked, troubled. 

"You will meet him--journeying the wrong way, " said the Indian, grimly. 

With a quick, guarded motion he picked up his rifle, turned short, andpassed swiftly northward straight into the forest, leaving us listeningthere together long after he had disappeared. 

"That chief was Joseph Brant, . .. But he wore no war-paint, " whisperedmy cousin. "He was painted for the secret rites of the False-Faces. "

"He could have slain us as we sat, " I said, bitterly humiliated. 

She looked up at me thoughtfully; there was not in her face theslightest trace of the deep emotions which had shocked me. 

"A tribal fire is lighted somewhere, " she mused. "Chiefs like Brant donot travel alone--unless--unless he came to consult that witch CatrineMontour, or to guide her to some national council-fire in the North. "

She pondered awhile, and I stood by in silence, my heart still beatingheavily from my astonishment at the hideous apparition of amoment since. 

"Do you know, " she said, "that I believe Brant spoke the truth. There isno war yet, as far as concerns the Mohawks. The smoke we saw was asecret signal; that hag was scuttling around to collect the False-Facesfor a council. They may mean war; I'm sure they mean it, though Brantwore no war-paint. But war has not yet been declared; it is no scantceremony when a nation of the Iroquois decides on war. And if theconfederacy declares war the ceremonies may last a fortnight. TheFalse-Faces must be heard from first. And, Heaven help us! I believetheir fires are lighted now. "

"What ghastly manner of folk are these False-Faces?" I asked. 

"A secret clan, common to all Northern and Western Indians, celebratingsecret rites among the six nations of the Iroquois. Some say thespectacle is worse than the orgies of the Dream-feast--a frightfulsight, truly hellish; and yet others say the False-Faces do no harm, butmake merry in secret places. But this I know; if the False-Faces are todecide for war or peace, they will sway the entire confederacy, andperhaps every Indian in North America; for though nobody knows whobelongs to the secret sect, two-thirds of the Mohawks are said to benumbered in its ranks; and as go the Mohawks, so goes the confederacy. "

"How is it you know all this?" I asked, amazed. 

"My playmate was Magdalen Brant, " she said. "Her playmates were pureMohawk. "

"Do you mean to tell me that this painted savage is kin to that lovelygirl who came with Sir John and the Butlers?" I demanded. 

"They are related. And, cousin, this 'painted savage' is no savage ifthe arts of civilization which he learned at Dr. Wheelock's school countfor anything. He was secretary to old Sir William. He is an educatedman, spite of his naked body and paint, and the more to be dreaded, itappears to me. .. . Hark! See those branches moving beside the trail!There is a man yonder. Follow me. "

On the sandy bank our shoes made little sound, yet the unseen man heardus and threw up a glittering rifle, calling out: "Halt! or I fire. "

Dorothy stopped short, and her hand fell on my arm, pressing itsignificantly. Out into the middle of the trail stepped a tall fellowclad from throat to ankle in deer-skin. On his curly head rested alittle, round cap of silvery mole-skin, light as a feather; hisleggings' fringe was dyed green; baldrick, knife-sheath, bullet-pouch, powder-horn, and hatchet-holster were deeply beaded in scarlet, white, and black, and bands of purple porcupine-quills edged shoulder-cape andmoccasins, around which were painted orange-colored flowers, eachcentred with a golden bead. 

"A forest-runner, " she motioned with her lips, "and, if I'm not blind, he should answer to the name of Mount--and many crimes, they say. "

The forest-runner stood alert, rifle resting easily in the hollow of hisleft arm. 

"Who passes?" he called out. 

"White folk, " replied Dorothy, laughing. Then we stepped out. 

"Well, well, " said the forest-runner, lifting his mole-skin cap with agrin; "if this is not the pleasantest sight that has soothed my eyessince we hung that Tory whelp last Friday--and no disrespect to MistressVarick, whose father is more patriot than many another I might name!"

"I bid you good-even, Jack Mount, " said Dorothy, smiling. 

"To you, Mistress Varick, " he said, bowing the deeper; then glancedkeenly at me and recognized me at the same moment. "Has my prophecy cometrue, sir?" he asked, instantly. 

"God save our country, " I said, significantly. 

"Then I was right!" he said, and flushed with pleasure when I offeredhim my hand. 

"If I am not too free, " he muttered, taking my hand in his great, hardpaw, almost affectionately. 

"You may walk with us if you journey our way, " said Dorothy; and thegreat fellow shuffled up beside her, cap in hand, and it amused me tosee him strive to shorten his strides to hers, so that he presently fellinto a strange gait, half-skip, half-toddle. 

"Pray cover yourself, " said Dorothy, encouragingly, and Mount did so, dumb as a Matanzas oyster and crimson as a boiled sea-crab. Then, doubtless, deeming that gentility required some polite observation, hespoke in a high-pitched voice of the balmy weather and the sweetprofusion of birds and flowers, when there was more like to be a "sweetprofusion" of Indians; and I nigh stifled with laughter to see thislumbering, free-voiced forest-runner transformed to a mincing, anxious, backwoods macaroni at the smile of a pretty woman. 

"Do you bring no other news save of the birds and blossoms?" askedDorothy, mischievously. "Tell us what we all are fearful of. Have theSenecas and Cayugas risen to join the British?"

Mount stole a glance at me. 

"I wish I knew, " he muttered. 

"We will know soon, now, " I said, soberly. 

"Sooner, perhaps, than you expect, sir, " he said. "I am summoned to themanor to confer with General Schuyler on this very matter of theIroquois. "

"Is it true that the Mohawks are in their war-paint?" asked Dorothy, maliciously. 

"Stoner and Timothy Murphy say so, " replied Mount. "Sir John and theButlers are busy with the Onondagas and Oneidas; Dominic Kirkland isdoing his best to keep them peaceable; and our General played his lastcards at their national council. We can only wait and see, Mistress Varick. "

He hesitated, glancing at me askance. 

"The fact is, " he said, "I've been sniffing at moccasin tracks for thelast hour, up hill, down dale, over the ford, where I lost them, thencircled and picked them up again on the moss a mile below the bridge. IfI read them right, they were Mohawk tracks and made within the hour, andhow that skulking brute got away from me I cannot think. "

He looked at us in an injured manner, for we were striving not to smile. 

"I'm counted a good tracker, " he muttered. "I'm as good as WalterButler or Tim Murphy, and my friend, the Weasel, now with Morgan'sriflemen, is no keener forest-runner than am I. Oh, I do not mean tobrag, or say I can match my cunning against such a human bloodhound asJoseph Brant. "

He paused, in hurt surprise, for we were laughing. And then I told himof the Indian and what message he had sent by us, and Mount listened, red as a pippin, gnawing his lip. 

"I am glad to know it, " he said. "This will be evil news to GeneralSchuyler, I have no doubt. Lord! but it makes me mad to think how closeto Brant I stood and could not drill his painted hide!"

"He spared you, " I said. 

"That is his affair, " muttered Mount, striding on angrily. 

"There speaks the obstinate white man, who can see no good in anysavage, " whispered Dorothy. "Nothing an Indian does is right orgenerous; these forest-runners hate them, distrust them, fearthem--though they may deny it--and kill all they can. And you may argueall day with an Indian-hater and have your trouble to pay you. Yet Ihave heard that this man Mount is brave and generous to enemies of hisown color. "

We had now come to the road in front of the house, and Mount set his caprakishly on his head, straightened cape and baldrick, and ran hisfingers through the gorgeous thrums rippling from sleeve and thigh. 

"I'd barter a month's pay for a pot o' beer, " he said to me. "I learnedto drink serving with Cresap's riflemen at the siege of Boston; agodless company, sir, for an innocent man to fall among. But Morgan'srifles are worse, Mr. Ormond; they drink no water save when it rains intheir gin toddy. "

"Sir Lupus says you tried to join them, " said Dorothy, to plague him. 

"So I did, Mistress Varick, so I did, " he stammered; "to break 'em o'their habits, ma'am. Trust me, if I had that corps I'd teach 'em to letspirits alone if I had to drink every drop in camp to keep 'em sober!"

"There's beer in the buttery, " she said, laughing; "and if you smile atTulip she'll see you starve not. "

"Nobody, " said I, "goes thirsty or hungry at Varick Manor. "

"Indeed, no, " said Dorothy, much amused, as old Cato came down the path, hat in hand. "Here, Cato! do you take Captain Mount and see that he iscomfortable and that he lacks nothing. "

So, standing together in the stockade gateway, we watched Catoconducting Mount towards the quarters behind the guard-house, thenwalked on to meet the children, who came dancing down the drivewayto greet us. 

"Dorothy! Dorothy!" cried Cecile, "we've shaved candles and waxed thelibrary floors. Lady Schuyler is here and the General and the Carmichaelgirls we knew at school, and their cousin, Maddaleen Dirck, and ChristieMcDonald and Marguerite Haldimand--cousin to the Tory general inCanada--and--"

"I'm to walk a minuet with Madge Haldimand!" broke in Ruyven; "will youlend me your gold stock-buckle, Cousin Ormond?"

"I mean to dance, too, " cried Harry, crowding up to pluck my sleeve. "Please, Cousin Ormond, lend me a lace handkerchief. "

"Paltz Clavarack, of the Half-moon Regiment, asked me to walk a minuet, "observed Cecile, tossing her head. "I'm sure I don't know what to say. He's so persistent. "

Benny's clamor broke out: "Thammy thtole papath betht thnuff-boxth!Thammy thtole papath betht thnuff-boxth!"

"Sammy!" cried Dorothy, "what did you steal your father's best snuff-boxfor?"

"I only desired to offer snuff to General Schuyler, " said Sammy, sullenly, amid a roar of laughter. 

"We're to dine at eight! Everybody is dressing; come on, Dorothy!" criedCecile. "Mr. Clavarack vowed he'd perish if I kept him waiting--"

"You should see the escort!" said Ruyven to me. "Dragoons, cousin, inleather helmets and jack-boots, and all wearing new sabres taken fromthe Hessian cavalry. They're in the quarters with Tim Murphy, ofMorgan's, and, Lord! how thirsty they appear to be!"

"There's the handsomest man I ever saw, " murmured Cecile to Dorothy, "Captain O'Neil, of the New York line. He's dying to see you; he said soto Mr. Clavarack, and I heard him. "

Dorothy looked up with heightened color. 

"Will you walk the minuet with me, Dorothy?" I whispered. 

She looked down, faintly smiling:

"Perhaps, " she said. 

"That is no answer, " I retorted, surprised and hurt. 

"I know it, " she said, demurely. 

"Then answer me, Dorothy!"

She looked at me so gravely that I could not be certain whether it waspretence or earnest. 

"I am hostess, " she said; "I belong to my guests. If my duties preventmy walking the minuet with you, I shall find a suitable partner foryou, cousin. "

"And no doubt for yourself, " I retorted, irritated to rudeness. 

Surprise and disdain were in her eyes. Her raised brows and cool smileboded me no good. 

"I thought I was free to choose, " she said, serenely. 

"You are, and so am I, " I said. "Will you have me for the minuet?"

We paused in the hallway, facing each other. 

She gave me a dangerous glance, biting her lip in silence. 

And, the devil possessing me, I said, "For the last time, will you takeme?"

"No!" she said, under her breath. "You have your answer now. "

"I have my answer, " I repeated, setting my teeth. 

XII

THE GHOST-RING

I had bathed and dressed me in my best suit of pale-lilac silk, withflapped waistcoat of primrose stiff with gold, and Cato was powdering myhair; when Sir Lupus waddled in, magnificent in scarlet and white, andsmelling to heaven of French perfume and pomatum. 

"George!" he cried, in his brusque, explosive fashion, "I like Schuyler, and I care not who knows it! Dammy! I was cool enough with him and hislady when they arrived, but he played Valentine to my Orson till I gaveup; yes, I did, George, I capitulated. Says he, 'Sir Lupus, if a painfulmisunderstanding has kept us old neighbors from an exchange ofcivilities, I trust differences may be forgotten in this graver crisis. In our social stratum there is but one great line of cleavage now, opened by the convulsions of war, sir. "

"'Damn the convulsions of war, sir!' says I. 

"'Quite right, ' says he, mildly; 'war is always damnable, Sir Lupus. '

"'General Schuyler, ' says I, 'there is no nonsense about me. You andLady Schuyler are under my roof, and you are welcome, whatever opinionyou entertain of me and my fashion of living. I understand perfectlythat this visit is not a visit of ceremony from a neighbor, but amilitary necessity. '

"'Sir Lupus, ' says Lady Schuyler, 'had it been only a militarynecessity I should scarcely have accompanied the General andhis guests. '

"'Madam, ' says I, 'it is commonly reported that I offended the entirearistocracy of Albany when I had Sir John Johnson's sweetheart to dinewith them. And for that I have been ostracized. For which ostracism, madam, I care not a brass farthing. And, madam, were I to dine allAlbany to-night, I should not ignore my old neighbors and friends, thePutnams of Tribes Hill, to suit the hypocrisy of a few strangers fromAlbany. Right is right, madam, and decency is decency! And I say nowthat to honest men Claire Putnam is Sir John's wife by every law ofhonor, decency, and chivalry; and I shall so treat her in the face of arotten world and to the undying shame of that beast, Sir John!'

"Whereupon--would you believe it, George?--Schuyler took both my handsin his and said my conduct honored me, and more of the same sort o'thing, and Lady Schuyler gave me her hand in that sweet, statelyfashion; and, dammy! I saluted her finger-tips. Heaven knows how I foundit possible to bend my waist, but I did, George. And there's an end tothe whole matter!"

He took snuff, blew his nose violently, snapped his gold snuff-box, andwaddled to the window, where, below, in the early dusk, torches andrush-lights burned, illuminating the cavalry horses tethered along theirpicket-rope, and the trooper on guard, pacing his beat, musket shiningin the wavering light. 

"That escort will be my undoing, " he muttered. "Folk will dub me apartisan now. Dammy! a man under my roof is a guest, be he Tory orrebel. I do but desire to cultivate my land and pay my debts of honor;and I'll stick to it till they leave me in peace or hang me to mybarn door!"

And he toddled out, muttering and fumbling with his snuff-box, biddingme hasten and not keep them waiting dinner. 

I stood before the mirror with its lighted sconces, gazing grimly at mysober face while Cato tied my queue-ribbon and dusted my silkencoat-skirts. Then I fastened the brilliant buckle under my chin, shookout the deep, soft lace at throat and wristband, and took my small-swordfrom Cato. 

"Mars' George, " murmured the old man, "yo' look lak yo' is gwine wed wifmah li'l Miss Dorry. "

I stared at him angrily. "What put that into your head?" I demanded. 

"I dunno, suh; hit dess look dat-a-way to me, suh. "

"You're a fool, " I said, sharply. 

"No, suh, I ain' no fool, Mars' George. I done see de sign! Yaas, suh, Idone see de sign. "

"What sign?"

The old man chuckled, looked slyly at my left hand, then chuckled again. 

"Mars' George, yo' is wearin' yo' weddin'-ring now!"

"A ring! There is no ring on my hand, you rascal!" I said. 

"Yaas, suh; dey sho' is, Mars' George, " he insisted, still chuckling. 

"I tell you I never wear a ring, " I said, impatiently. 

"'Scuse me, Mars' George, suh, " he said, humbly. And, lifting my lefthand, laid it in his wrinkled, black palm, peering closely. I alsolooked, and saw at the base of my third finger a circle like the markleft by a wedding-ring. 

"That is strange, " I said; "I never wore a ring in all my life!"

"Das de sign, suh, " muttered the old man; "das de Ormond sign, suh. Yo'pap wore de ghos'-ring, an' his pap wore it too, suh. All de Ormondsdone wore de ghos'-ring fore dey wus wedded. Hit am dess dat-a-way. Mars' George--"

He hesitated, looking up at me with gentle, dim eyes. 

"Miss Dorry, suh--"

He stopped short, then dropped his voice to a whisper. 

"'Fore Miss Dorry git up outen de baid, suh, I done tote de bre'kfus inde mawnin'. An' de fustest word dat li'l Miss Dorry say, 'Cato, ' shesay, 'whar Mars' George?' she say. 'He 'roun' de yahd, Miss Dorry, ' Isay. ''Pears lak he gettin' mo' res'less an' mis'ble, Miss Dorry. '

"'Cato, ' she 'low, 'I spec' ma' haid gwine ache if I lie hyah indishyere baid mo'n two free day. Whar ma' milk an' co'n pone, Cato?'

"So I des sot de salver down side de baid, suh, an' li'l Miss Dorry shedone set up in de baid, suh, an' hole out one li'l bare arm--"

He laid a wrinkled finger on his lips; his dark face quivered withmystery and emotion. 

"One li'l bare arm, " he repeated, "an' I see de sign!"

"What sign?" I stammered. 

"De bride-sign on de ring-finger! Yaas, suh. An' I say, 'Whar yo' ring, Miss Dorry?' An' she 'low ain' nebber wore no ring. An' I say, 'Whar datring, Miss Dorry?'

"Den Miss Dorry look kinder queer, and rub de ghos'-ring on debridal-finger. 

"'What dat?' she 'low. 

"'Dasser ghos'-ring, honey. '

"Den she rub an' rub, but, bless yo' heart, Mars' George! she dessnatch'ly gwine wear dat pink ghos'-ring twill yo' slip de bride-ringon. .. . Mars' George! Honey! What de matter, chile?. .. Is you a-weepin', Mars' George?"

"Oh, Cato, Cato!" I choked, dropping my head on his shoulder. 

"What dey do to mah l'il Mars' George?" he said, soothingly. "'Spec'some one done git saucy! Huh! Who care? Dar de sign! Dar de ghos'-ring!Mars' George, yo' is dess boun' to wed, suh! Miss Dorry, she dess boun'to wed, too--"

"But not with me, Cato, not with me. There's another man coming for MissDorry, Cato. She has promised him. "

"Who dat?" he cried. "How come dishyere ghost-ring roun' yo'weddin'-finger?"

"I don't know, " I said; "the chance pressure of a riding-glove, perhaps. It will fade away, Cato, this ghost-ring, as you call it. .. . Give methat rag o' lace; . .. Dust the powder away, Cato. .. . There, I'm smiling;can't you see, you rascal?. .. And tell Tulip she is right. "

"What dat foolish wench done tole you?" he exclaimed, wrathfully. 

But I only shook my head impatiently and walked out. Down the hallway Ihalted in the light of the sconces and looked at the strange mark on myfinger. It was plainly visible. "A tight glove, " I muttered, and walkedon towards the stairs. 

From the floor below came a breezy buzz of voices, laughter, the snap ofivory fans spreading, the whisk and rustle of petticoats. I leaned amoment over the rail which circled the stair-gallery and looked down. 

Unaccustomed cleanliness and wax and candle-light made a prettybackground for all this powdered and silken company swarming below. Theservants and children had gathered ground-pine to festoon the walls;stair-rail, bronze cannon, pictures, trophies, and windows were allbright with the aromatic green foliage; enormous bunches of peoniesperfumed the house, and everywhere masses of yellow and whiteelder-bloom and swamp-marigold brightened the corners. 

Sir Lupus, standing in the hallway with a tall gentleman who wore theepaulets and the buff-and-blue uniform of a major-general, beckoned me, and I descended the stairs to make the acquaintance of that noblest andmost generous of soldiers, Philip Schuyler. He held my hand a moment, scrutinizing me with kindly eyes, and, turning to Sir Lupus, said, "There are few men to whom my heart surrenders at sight, but your youngkinsman is one of the few, Sir Lupus. "

"He's a good boy, General, a brave lad, " mumbled Sir Lupus, frowning tohide his pride. "A bit quick at conclusions, perhaps--eh, George?"

"Too quick, sir, " I said, coloring. 

"A fault you have already repaired by confession, " said the General, with his kindly smile. "Mr. Ormond, I had the pleasure of receiving SirGeorge Covert the day he left for Stanwix, and Sir George mentioned yourdesire for a commission. "

"I do desire it, sir, " I said, quickly. 

"Have you served, Mr. Ormond?" he asked, gravely. 

"I have seen some trifling service against the Florida savages, sir. "

"As officer, of course. "

"As officer of our rangers, General. "

"You were never wounded?"

"No, sir; . .. Not severely. "

"Oh!. .. Not severely. "

"No, sir. "

"There are some gentlemen of my acquaintance, " said Schuyler, turning toSir Lupus, "who might take a lesson in modesty from Mr. Ormond. "

"Yes, " broke out Sir Lupus--"that pompous ass, Gates. "

"General Gates is a loyal soldier, " said Schuyler, gravely. 

"Who the devil cares?" fumed Sir Lupus. "I call a spade a spade! And Isay he is at the head of that infamous cabal which seeks to disgraceyou. Don't tell me, sir! I'm an older man than you, sir! I've a right tosay it, and I do. Gates is an envious ass, and unfit to holdyour stirrup!"

"This is a painful matter, " said Schuyler, in a low voice. "Indiscreetfriendship may make it worse. I regard General Gates as a patriot and abrother soldier. .. . Pray let us choose a gayer topic . .. Friends. "

His manner was so noble, his courtesy so charming, that there was nosting in his snub to Sir Lupus. Even I had heard of the amazingjealousies and intrigues which had made Schuyler's lifemiserable--charges of incompetency, of indifference, of corruption--nay, some wretched creatures who sought to push Gates into Schuyler's commandeven hinted at cowardice and treason. And none could doubt that Gatesknew it and encouraged it, for he had publicly spoken of Schuyler inslighting and contemptuous terms. 

Yet the gentleman whose honor had been the target for these slanderersnever uttered one word against his traducers: and, when a friend askedhim whether he was too proud to defend himself, replied, serenely, "Nottoo proud, but too sensible to spread discord in my country's army. "

"Lady Schuyler desires to know you, " said the General, "for I see herfan-signal, which I always obey. " And he laid his arm on mine as afather might, and led me across the room to where Dorothy stood withLady Schuyler on her right, surrounded by a bevy of bright-eyed girlsand gay young officers. 

Dorothy presented me in a quiet voice, and I bowed very low to LadySchuyler, who made me an old-time reverence, gave me her fingers tokiss, and spoke most kindly to me, inquiring about my journey, and how Iliked this Northern climate. 

Then Dorothy made me known to those near her, to the pretty Carmichaeltwins, whose black eyes brimmed purest mischief; to Miss Haldimand, whose cold beauty had set the Canadas aflame; and to others of whom Ihave little recollection save their names. Christie McDonald and LysbetDirck, two fashionable New York belles, kin to the Schuylers. 

As for the men, there was young Paltz Clavarack, ensign in the Half-moonRegiment, very fine in his orange-faced uniform; and there was MajorHarrow, of the New York line; and a jolly, handsome dare-devil, CaptainTully O'Neil, of the escort of horse, who hung to Dorothy's skirts andwhispered things that made her laugh. There were others, too, aides innew uniforms, a medical officer, who bustled about in the rôle ofeverybody's friend; and a parcel of young subalterns, very serious, veryred, and very grave, as though the destiny of empires reposed in theirblue-and-gold despatch pouches. 

"I wonder, " murmured Dorothy, leaning towards me and speaking behind herrose-plumed fan--"I wonder why I answered you so. "

"Because I deserved it, " I muttered, "Cousin I Cousin!" she said, softly, "you deserve all I can give--allthat I dare not give. You break my heart with kindness. "

I stepped to her side; all around us rose the hum of voices, laughter, the click of spurs, the soft sounds of silken gowns on a polished floor. 

"It is you who are kind to me, Dorothy, " I whispered, "I know I cannever have you, but you must never doubt my constancy. Say youwill not?"

"Hush!" she whispered; "come to the dining-hall; I must look at thetable to see that all is well done, and there is nobody there. .. . We cantalk there. "

She slipped off through the throng, and I sauntered into the gun-room, from whence I crossed the hallway and entered the dining-hall. Dorothystood inspecting the silver and linen, and giving orders to Cato in alow voice. Then she dismissed the row of servants and sat down in aleather chair, resting her forehead in her hands. 

"Deary me! Deary me!" she murmured, "how my brain whirls!. .. I would Iwere abed!. .. I would I were dead!. .. What was it you said concerningconstancy? Oh, I remember; I am never to doubt your constancy. " Sheraised her fair head from between her hands. 

"Promise you will never doubt it, " I whispered. 

"I--I never will, " she said. "Ask me again for the minuet, dear. I--Irefused everybody--for you. "

"Will you walk it with me, Dorothy?"

"Yes--yes, indeed! I told them all I must wait till you asked me. "

"Good heavens!" I said, laughing nervously, "you didn't tell them that, did you?"

She bent her lovely face, and I saw the smile in her eyes glimmeringthrough unshed tears. 

"Yes; I told them that. Captain O'Neil protests he means to call you outand run you through. And I said you would probably cut off his queue andtie him up by his spurs if he presumed to any levity. Then he said he'dtell Sir George Covert, and I said I'd tell him myself and everybodyelse that I loved my cousin Ormond better than anybody in the world andmeant to wed him--"

"Dorothy!" I gasped. 

"Wed him to the most, beautiful and lovely and desirable maid inAmerica!"

"And who is that, if it be not yourself?" I asked, amazed. 

"It's Maddaleen Dirck, the New York heiress, Lysbet's sister; and youare to take her to table. "

"Dorothy, " I said, angrily, "you told me that you desired me to befaithful to my love for you!"

"I do! Oh, I do!" she said, passionately. "But it is wrong; it isdreadfully wrong. To be safe we must both wed, and then--God knows!--wecannot in honor think of one another. "

"It will make no difference, " I said, savagely. 

"Why, of course, it will!" she insisted, in astonishment. "We shall bemarried. "

"Do you suppose love can be crushed by marriage?" I asked. 

"The hope of it can. "

"It cannot, Dorothy. "

"It must be crushed!" she exclaimed, flushing scarlet. "If we both aretied by honor, how can we hope? Cousin, I think I must be mad to say it, but I never see you that I do not hope. We are not safe, I tell you, spite of all our vows and promises. .. . You do not need to woo me, you donot need to persuade me! Ere you could speak I should be yours, now, this very moment, for a look, a smile--were it not for that pale spectreof my own self which rises ever before me, stern, inexorable, blockingevery path which leads to you, and leaving only that one path free wherethe sign reads 'honor. ' . .. And I--I am sometimes frightened lest, in anoverwhelming flood of love, that sign be torn away and no spectre ofmyself rise to confront me, barring those paths that lead to you. .. . Don't touch me; Cato is looking at us. .. . He's gone. .. . Wait, do notleave me. .. . I have been so wretched and unhappy. .. . I could scarce findstrength and heart to let them dress me, thinking on your face when Ianswered you so cruelly. .. . Oh, cousin! where are our vows now? Whereare the solemn promises we made never to speak of love?. .. Lovers makepromises like that in story-books--and keep them, too, and diesanctified, blessing one another and mounting on radiant wings toheaven. .. . Where I should find no heaven save in you! Ah, God! that isthe most terrible. That takes my heart away--to die and wake to findmyself still his wife--to live through all eternity without you--and nohope of you--no hope!. .. For I could be patient through this earthlylife, losing my youth and yours forever, . .. But not after death! No, no! I cannot. .. . Better hell with you than endless heaven with him!. .. Don't speak to me. .. . Take your hand from my hand. .. . Can you not seethat I mean nothing of what I say--that I do not know what I amsaying?. .. I must go back; I am hostess--a happy one, as you perceive. .. . Will I never learn to curb my tongue? You must forget every word Iuttered--do you hear me?"

She sprang up in her rustling silks and took a dozen steps towards thedoor, then turned. 

"Do you hear me?" she said. "I bid you remember every word Iuttered--every word!"

She was gone, leaving me staring at the flowers and silver and theclustered lights. But I saw them not; for before my eyes floated thevision of a slender hand, and on the wedding-finger I saw a faint, rosycircle, as I had seen it there a moment since, when Dorothy dropped herbare arms on the cloth and laid her head between them. 

So it was true; whether for good or ill my cousin wore the ghost-ringwhich for ages, Cato says, we Ormonds have worn before themarriage-ring. There was Ormond blood in Dorothy. Did she wear the signas prophecy for that ring Sir George should wed her with? I dared notdoubt it--and yet, why did I also wear the sign?

Then in a flash the forgotten legend of the Maid-at-Arms came back tome, ringing through my ears in clamorous words:

 "Serene, 'mid love's alarms, For all time shall the Maids-at-Arms, Wearing the ghost-ring, triumph with their constancy!"

I sprang to the door in my excitement and stared at the picture of theMaid-at-Arms. 

Sweetly the violet eyes of the maid looked back at me, her armorglittered, her soft throat seemed to swell with the breath of life. 

Then I crept nearer, eyes fixed on her wedding-finger. And I saw there afaint rosy circle as though a golden ring had pressed the snowy flesh. 

XIII

THE MAID-AT-ARMS

I remember little of that dinner save that it differed vastly from thequarrelsome carousal at which the Johnsons and Butlers figured in sosinister a rôle, and at which the Glencoe captains disgraced themselves. But now, if the patroon's wine lent new color to the fair faces roundme, there was no feverish laughter, nothing of brutal license. Healthswere given and drunk with all the kindly ceremony to which I had beenaccustomed. At times pattering gusts of hand-clapping followed somepopular toast, such as "Our New Flag, " to which General Schuylerresponded in perfect taste, veiling the deep emotions that the toaststirred in many with graceful allegory tempered by modesty andself-restraint. 

At the former dinner I had had for my neighbors Dorothy and MagdalenBrant. Now I sat between Miss Haldimand and Maddaleen Dirck, whom I hadfor partner, a pretty little thing, who peppered her conversation withfashionable New York phrases and spiced the intervals with French. And Iremember she assured me that New York was the only city fit to live inand that she should never survive a prolonged transportation from thatearthly paradise of elegance and fashion. Which made me itch togo there. 

I think, without meaning any unkindness, that Miss Haldimand, theCanadian beauty, was somewhat surprised that I had not already fallen avictim to her lovely presence; but, upon reflection, set it down to mystupidity; for presently she devoted her conversation exclusively toRuyven, whose delight and gratitude could not but draw a smile fromthose who observed him. I saw Cecile playing the maiden's game withyoung Paltz Clavarack, and Lady Schuyler on Sir Lupus's right, charmingly demure, faintly amused, and evidently determined not to beshocked by the free bluntness of her host. 

The mischievous Carmichael twins had turned the batteries of their eyeson two solemn, faultlessly dressed subalterns, and had already reducedthem to the verge of capitulation; and busy, bustling Dr. Sleepercracked witticisms with all who offered him the fee of their attention, and the dinner went very well. 

Radiant, beautiful beyond word or thought, Dorothy sat, leaning back inher chair, and the candle-light on the frosty-gold of her hair and onher bare arms and neck made of her a miracle of celestial loveliness. And it was pleasant to see the stately General on her right bend besideher with that grave gallantry which young girls find more grateful thanthe privileged badinage of old beaus. At moments her sweet eyes stoletowards me, and always found mine raised to greet her with that silentunderstanding which brought the faintest smile to her quiet lips. Once, above the melodious hum of voices, the word "war" sounded distinctly, and General Schuyler said:

"In these days of modern weapons of precision and long range, conflictsare doubly deplorable. In the times of the old match-locks andblunderbusses and unwieldly weapons weighing more than three times whatour modern light rifles weigh, there was little chance for slaughter. But now that we have our deadly flint-locks, a battle-field will be asad spectacle. Bunker Hill has taught the whole world a lesson thatmight not be in vain if it incites us to rid the earth of this wickedfrenzy men call war. "

"General, " said Sir Lupus, "if weapons were twenty times as quick anddeadly--which is, of course, impossible, thank God!--there would alwaysbe enough men in the world to get up a war, and enjoy it, too!"

"I do not like to believe that, " said Schuyler, smiling. 

"Wait and see, " muttered the patroon. "I'd like to live a hundred yearshence, just to prove I'm right. "

"I should rather not live to see it, " said the General, with a twinklein his small, grave eyes. 

Then quietly the last healths were given and pledged; Dorothy rose, andwe all stood while she and Lady Schuyler passed out, followed by theother ladies; and I had to restrain Ruyven, who had made plans to followMarguerite Haldimand. Then we men gathered once more over our port andwalnuts, conversing freely, while the fiddles and bassoons tuned up fromthe hallway, and General Schuyler told us pleasantly as much of themilitary situation as he desired us to know. And it did amuse me toobserve the solemn subalterns nodding all like wise young owlets, asthough they could, if they only dared, reveal secrets that wouldastonish the General himself. 

Snuff was passed, offered, and accepted with ceremony befitting; spiritsreplaced the port, but General Schuyler drank sparingly, and hiswell-trained suite perforce followed his example. So that when it cametime to rejoin our ladies there was no evidence of wandering legs, noamiably vacant laughter, no loud voices to strike the postprandialdiscord at the dance or at the card-tables. 

"How did I conduct, cousin?" whispered Ruyven, arm in arm with me as weentered the long drawing-room. And my response pleasing him, he made offstraight towards Marguerite Haldimand, who viewed his joyous arrivalnone too cordially, I thought. Poor Ruyven! Must he so soon close thegate of Eden behind him?--leaving forever his immortal boyhood sleepingamid the never-fading flowers. 

It was a fascinating and alarming spectacle to see Sir Lupus walking aminuet with Lady Schuyler, and I marvelled that the gold buttons on hiswaistcoat did not fly off in volleys when he strove to bend what once, perhaps, had been his waist. 

Ceremony dictated what we had both forgotten, and General Schuyler ledout Dorothy, who, scarlet in her distress, looked appealingly at me tosee that I understood. And I smiled back to see her sweet face brightenwith gratitude and confidence and a promise to make up to me what thestern rule of hospitality had deprived us of. 

So it was that I had her for the Sir Roger de Coverley, and after thatfor a Delaware reel, which all danced with a delightful abandon, evenMiss Haldimand unbending like a goddess surprised to find a pleasure inour mortal capers. And it was a pretty sight to see the ladies pass, gliding daintily under the arch of glittering swords, led by LadySchuyler and Dorothy in laughing files, while the fiddle-bows whirred, and the music of bassoon and hautboys blended and ended in a finalmellow crash. Then breathless voices rose, and skirts swished and Frenchheels tapped the polished floor and solemn subalterns stalked aboutseeking ices and lost buckles and mislaid fans; and a faint voice said, "Oh!" when a jewelled garter was found, and a very red subaltern said, "Honi soit!" and everybody laughed. 

Presently I missed the General, and, a moment later, Dorothy. As I stoodin the hallway, seeking for her, came Cecile, crying out that they wereto have pictures and charades, and that General Schuyler, who was to bea judge, awaited me in the gun-room. 

The door of the gun-room was closed. I tapped and entered. 

The General sat at the mahogany table, leaning back in his arm-chair;opposite sat Dorothy, bare elbows on the table, fingers clasped. Standing by the General, arms folded, Jack Mount loomed a colossalfigure in his beaded buckskins. 

[Illustration: "JACK MOUNT LOOMED A COLOSSAL FIGURE IN HIS BEADEDBUCKSKINS". ]

"Ah, Mr. Ormond!" said the General, as I closed the door quietly behindme; "pray be seated. They are to have pictures and charades, you know; Ishall not keep Miss Dorothy and yourself very long. "

I seated myself beside Dorothy, exchanging a smile with Mount. 

"Now, " said the General, dropping his voice to a lower tone, "what wasit you saw in the forest to-day?"

So Mount had already reported the apparition of the painted savage!

I told what I had seen, describing the Indian in detail, and repeatingword for word his warning message to Mount. 

The General looked inquiringly at Dorothy. "I understand, " he said, "that you know as much about the Iroquois as the Iroquois dothemselves. "

"I think I do, " she said, simply. 

"May I ask how you acquired your knowledge, Miss Dorothy?"

"There have always been Iroquois villages along our boundary until lastspring, when the Mohawks left with Guy Johnson, " she said. "I havealways played with Iroquois children; I went to school with MagdalenBrant. I taught among our Mohawks and Oneidas when I was thirteen. ThenI was instructed by sachems and I learned what the witch-drums say, andI need use no signs in the six languages or the clan dialects, saveonly when I speak with the Lenni-Lenape. Maybe, too, the Hurons andAlgonquins have words that I know not, for many Tuscaroras do notunderstand them save by sign. "

"I wish that some of my interpreters had your knowledge, or a fifth ofit, " said the General, smiling. "Tell me, Miss Dorothy, who was thatIndian and what did that paint mean?"

"The Indian was Joseph Brant, called Thayendanegea, which means, 'He whoholds many peoples together, ' or, in plainer words, 'A bundleof sticks. '"

"You are certain it was Brant?"

"Yes. He has dined at this table with us. He is an educated man. " Shehesitated, looking down thoughtfully at her own reflection in thepolished table. "The paint he wore was not war-paint. The signs on hisbody were emblems of the secret clan called the 'False-Faces. '"

The General looked up at Jack Mount. 

"What did Stoner say?" he asked. 

"Stoner reports that all the Iroquois are making ready for some unknownrite, sir. He saw pyramids of flat river-stones set up on hills and hesaw smoke answering smoke from the Adirondack peaks to theMayfield hills. "

"What did Timothy Murphy observe?" asked Schuyler, watching Mountintently. 

"Murphy brings news of their witch, Catrine Montour, sir. He. Chased hertill he dropped--like all the rest of us--but she went on and on arunning, hop! tap! hop! tap! and patter, patter, patter! It stirs myhair to think on her, and I'm no coward, sir. We call her 'TheToad-woman. '"

"I'll make you chief of scouts if you catch her, " said the General, sharply. 

"Very good, sir, " replied Mount, pulling a wry face, which made us alllaugh. 

"It has been reported to me, " said the General, quietly, "that theButlers, father and son, are in this county to attend a secret council;and that, with the help of Catrine Montour, they expect to carry theMohawk nation with them as well as the Cayugas and the Senecas. 

"It has further been reported to me by the Palatine scout that theOnondagas are wavering, that the Oneidas are disposed to stand ourfriends, that the Tuscaroras are anxious to remain neutral. 

"Now, within a few days, news has reached me that these three doubtfulnations are to be persuaded by an unknown woman who is, they say, theprophetess of the False-Faces. "

He paused, looking straight at Dorothy. 

"From your knowledge, " he said, slowly, "tell me who is this unknownwoman. "

"Do you not know, sir?" she asked, simply. 

"Yes, I think I do, child. It is Magdalen Brant. "

"Yes, " she said, quietly; "from childhood she stood as prophetess of theFalse-Faces. She is an educated girl, sweet, lovable, honorable, andsincere. She has been petted by the fine ladies of New York, ofPhiladelphia, of Albany. Yet she is partly Mohawk. "

"Not that charming girl whom I had to dinner?" I cried, astonished. 

"Yes, cousin, " she said, tranquilly. "You are surprised? Why? You shouldsee, as I have seen, pupils from Dr. Wheelock's school return to theirtribes and, in a summer, sink to the level of the painted sachem, everyvestige of civilization vanished with the knowledge of the tongue thattaught it. "

"I have seen that, " said Schuyler, frowning. 

"And I--by your leave, sir--I have seen it, too!" said Mount, savagely. "There may be some virtue in the rattlesnake; some folk eat 'em! Butthere is none in an Indian, not even stewed--"

"That will do, " said the General, ignoring the grim jest. "Do you speakthe Iroquois tongues, or any of them?" he asked, wheeling around toaddress me. 

"I speak Tuscarora, sir, " I replied. "The Tuscaroras understand theother five nations, but not the Hurons or Algonquins. "

"What tongue is used when the Iroquois meet?" he asked Dorothy. 

"Out of compliment to the youngest nation they use the Tuscaroralanguage, " she said. 

The General rose, bowing to Dorothy with a charming smile. 

"I must not keep you from your charades any longer, " he said, conductingher to the door and thanking her for the great help and profit he hadderived from her knowledge of the Iroquois. 

He had not dismissed us, so we awaited his return; and presently heappeared, calm, courteous, and walked up to me, laying a kindly hand onmy shoulder. 

"I want an officer who understands Tuscarora and who has felt the biteof an Indian bullet, " he said, earnestly. 

I stood silent and attentive. 

"I want that officer to find the False-Faces' council-fire and listen toevery word said, and report to me. I want him to use every endeavor tofind this woman, Magdalen Brant, and use every art to persuade her tothrow all her influence with the Onondagas, Oneidas, and Tuscaroras fortheir strict neutrality in this coming war. The service I require may bedangerous and may not. I do not know. Are you ready, Captain Ormond?"

"Ready, sir!" I said, steadily. 

He drew a parchment from his breast-pocket and laid it in my hands. Itwas my commission in the armies of the United States of America ascaptain in the militia battalion of Morgan's regiment of riflemen, andsigned by our Governor, George Clinton. 

"Do you accept this commission, Mr. Ormond?" he asked, regarding mepleasantly. 

"I do, sir. "

Sir Lupus's family Bible lay on the window-sill; the General bade Mountfetch it, and he did so. The General placed it before me, and I laid myhand upon it, looking him in the face. Then, in a low voice, headministered the oath, and I replied slowly but clearly, ending, "Sohelp me God, " and kissed the Book. 

"Sit down, sir, " said the General; and when I was seated he told me howthe Continental Congress in July of 1775 had established three Indiandepartments; how that he, as chief commissioner of this Northerndepartment, which included the Six Nations of the Iroquois confederacy, had summoned the national council, first at German Flatts, then atAlbany; how he and the Reverend Mr. Kirkland and Mr. Dean had done allthat could be done to keep the Iroquois neutral, but that they had notfully prevailed against the counsels of Guy Johnson and Brant, thoughthe venerable chief of the Mohawk upper castle had seemed inclined toneutrality. He told me of General Herkimer's useless conference withBrant at Unadilla, where that chief had declared that "The King ofEngland's belts were still lodged with the Mohawks, and that the Mohawkscould not violate their pledges. "

"I think we have lost the Mohawks, " said the General, thoughtfully. "Perhaps also the Senecas and Cayugas; for this she-devil, CatrineMontour, is a Huron-Seneca, and her nation will follow her. But, if wecan hold the three other nations back, it will be a vast gain to ourcause--not that I desire or would permit them to do battle for me, though our Congress has decided to enlist such Indians as wish to serve;but because there might be some thousand warriors the less to hang onour flanks and do the dreadful work among the people of this countrywhich these people so justly fear. "

He rose, nodding to me, and I followed him to the door. 

"Now, " he said, "you know what you are to do. "

"When shall I set out, sir?" I asked. 

He smiled, saying, "I shall give you no instructions, Captain Ormond; Ishall only concern myself with results. "

"May I take with me whom I please?"

"Certainly, sir. "

I looked at Mount, who had been standing motionless by the door, anattentive spectator. 

"I will take the rifleman Mount, " I said, "unless he is detailed forother service--"

"Take him, Mr. Ormond. When do you wish to start? I ask it because thereis a gentleman at Broadalbin who has news for you, and you must passthat way. "

"May I ask who that is?" I inquired, respectfully. 

"The gentleman is Sir George Covert, captain on my personal staff, andnow under your orders. "

"I shall set out to-night, sir, " I said, abruptly; then stepped back tolet him pass me into the hallway beyond. 

"Saddle my mare and make every preparation, " I said to Mount. "When youare ready lead the horses to the stockade gate. .. . How long willyou take?"

"An hour, sir, for rubbing down, saddling, and packing fodder, ammunition, and provisions. "

"Very well, " I said, soberly, and walked out to the long drawing-room, where the company had taken chairs and were all whispering and watchinga green baize curtain which somebody had hung across the farther endof the room. 

"Charades and pictures, " whispered Cecile, at my elbow. "I guessed two, and Mr. Clavarack says it was wonderful. "

"It certainly was, " I said, gravely. "Where is Ruyven? Oh, sitting withMiss Haldimand? Cecile, would you ask Miss Haldimand's indulgence for afew moments? I must speak to Sir Lupus and to you and Ruyven. "

I stepped back of the rows of chairs to where Sir Lupus sat in his greatarm-chair by the doorway; and in another moment Cecile and Ruyven cameup, the latter polite but scarcely pleased to be torn away from hisfirst inamorata. 

"Sir Lupus, and you, Cecile and Ruyven, " I said, in a low voice, "I amgoing on a little journey, and shall be absent for a few days, perhapslonger. I wish to take this opportunity to say good-bye, and to thankyou all for your great kindness to me. "

"Where the devil are you going?" snapped Sir Lupus. 

"I am not at liberty to say, sir; perhaps General Schuyler may tellyou. "

The patroon looked up at me sorrowfully. "George! George!" he said, "hasit touched us already?"

"Yes, sir, " I muttered. 

"What?" whispered Cecile. 

"Father means the war. Our cousin Ormond is going to the war, " exclaimedRuyven, softly. 

There was a pause; then Cecile flung both arms around my neck and kissedme in choking silence. The patroon's great, fat hand sought mine andheld it; Ruyven placed his arm about my shoulder. Never had I imaginedthat I could love these kinsmen of mine so dearly. 

"There's always a bed for you here; remember that, my lad, " growled thepatroon. 

"Take me, too, " sniffed Ruyven. 

"Eh! What?" cried the patroon. "I'll take you; oh yes--over my knee, youimpudent puppy! Let me catch you sneaking off to this war and I'll--"

Ruyven relapsed into silence, staring at me in troubled fascination. 

"The house is yours, George, " grunted the patroon. "Help yourself towhat you need for your journey. "

"Thank you, sir; say good-bye to the children, kiss them all for me, Cecile. And don't run away and get married until I come back. "

A stifled snivel was my answer. 

Then into the room shuffled old Cato, and began to extinguish thecandles; and I saw the green curtain twitch, and everybodywhispered "Ah-h!"

General Schuyler arose in the dim light when the last candle was blownout. "You are to guess the title of this picture!" he said, in his even, pleasant voice. "It is a famous picture, familiar to all present, Ithink, and celebrated in the Old World as well as in the New. .. . Drawthe curtain, Cato!"

Suddenly the curtain parted, and there stood the living, breathingfigure of the "Maid-at-Arms. " Her thick, gold hair clouded her cheeks, her eyes, blue as wood-violets, looked out sweetly from the shadowybackground, her armor glittered. 

A stillness fell over the dark room; slowly the green curtains closed;the figure vanished. 

There was a roar of excited applause in my ears as I stumbled forwardthrough the darkness, groping my way towards the dim gun-room throughwhich she must pass to regain her chamber by the narrow stairway whichled to the attic. 

She was not there; I waited a moment, listening in the darkness, andpresently I heard, somewhere overhead, a faint ringing sound and thedeadened clash of armed steps on the garret floor. 

"Dorothy!" I called. 

The steps ceased, and I mounted the steep stairway and came out into thegarret, and saw her standing there, her armor outlined against thewindow and the pale starlight streaming over her steel shoulder-pieces. 

I shall never forget her as she stood looking at me, her steel-cladfigure half buried in the darkness, yet dimly apparent in its youthfulsymmetry where the starlight fell on the curve of cuisse and greave, glimmering on the inlaid gorget with an unearthly light, and stirringpale sparks like fire-flies tangled in her hair. 

"Did I please you?" she whispered. "Did I not surprise you? Cato scouredthe armor for me; it is the same armor she wore, they say--theMaid-at-Arms. And it fits me like my leather clothes, limb and body. Hark!. .. They are applauding yet! But I do not mean to spoil the magicpicture by a senseless repetition. .. . And some are sure to say a ghostappeared. .. . Why are you so silent?. .. Did I not please you?"

She flung casque and sword on the floor, cleared her white forehead fromits tumbled veil of hair; then bent nearer, scanning my eyes closely. 

"Is aught amiss?" she asked, under her breath. 

I turned and slowly traversed the upper hallway to her chamber door, shewalking beside me in silence, striving to read my face. 

"Let your maids disarm you, " I whispered; "then dress and tap at mydoor. I shall be waiting. "

"Tell me now, cousin. "

"No; dress first. "

"It will take too long to do my hair. Oh, tell me! You have frightenedme. "

"It is nothing to frighten you, " I said. "Put off your armor and come tomy door. Will you promise?"

"Ye-es, " she faltered; and I turned and hastened to my own chamber, toprepare for the business which lay before me. 

I dressed rapidly, my thoughts in a whirl; but I had scarcely slungpowder-horn and pouch, and belted in my hunting-shirt, when there came arapping at the door, and I opened it and stepped out into thedim hallway. 

At sight of me she understood, and turned quite white, standing there inher boudoir-robe of China silk, her heavy, burnished hair in two loosebraids to her waist. 

In silence I lifted her listless hands and kissed the fingers, then thecold wrists and palms. And I saw the faint circlet of the ghost-ring onher bridal finger, and touched it with my lips. 

Then, as I stepped past her, she gave a low cry, hiding her face in herhands, and leaned back against the wall, quivering from head to foot. 

"Don't go!" she sobbed. "Don't go--don't go!"

And because I durst not, for her own sake, turn or listen, I reeled on, seeing nothing, her faint cry ringing in my ears, until darkness and acold wind struck me in the face, and I saw horses waiting, black in thestarlight, and the gigantic form of a man at their heads, fringed capeblowing in the wind. 

"All ready?" I gasped. 

"All is ready and the night fine! We ride by Broadalbin, I think. .. . Whoa! back up! you long-eared ass! D'ye think to smell a Mohawk?. .. Oris it your comrades on the picket-rope that bedevil you?. .. Look atthe troop-horses, sir, all a-rolling on their backs in the sand, fourhoofs waving in the air. It's easier on yon sentry than when they're alla-squealin' and a-bitin'--This way, sir. We swing by the bush and pickup the Iroquois trail 'twixt the Hollow and Mayfield. "

XIV

ON DUTY

As we galloped into Broadalbin Bush a house on our right loomed up blackand silent, and I saw shutters and doors swinging wide open, and thestars shining through. There was something sinister in this stark andtenantless homestead, whose void casements stared, like emptyeye-sockets. 

"They have gone to the Middle Fort--all of them except the Stoners, "said Mount, pushing his horse up beside mine. "Look, sir! See what thisred terror has already done to make a wilderness of County Try on--andnot a blow struck yet!"

We passed another house, doorless, deserted; and as I rode abreast ofit, to my horror I saw two shining eyes staring out at me from theempty window. 

"A wolf--already!" muttered Mount, tugging at his bridle as his horsesheered off, snorting; and I saw something run across the front stepsand drop into the shadows. 

The roar of the Kennyetto sounded nearer. Woods gave place tostump-fields in which the young corn sprouted, silvered by the stars. Across a stony pasture we saw a rushlight burning in a doorway; and, swinging our horses out across a strip of burned stubble, we camepresently to Stoner's house and heard the noise of the stream rushingthrough the woods below. 

I saw Sir George Covert immediately; he was sitting on a log under thewindow, dressed in his uniform, a dark military cloak mantling hisshoulders and knees. When he recognized me he rose and came to my side. 

"Well, Ormond, " he said, quietly, "it's a comfort to see you. Leave yourhorses with Elerson. Who is that with you--oh, Jack Mount? These are theriflemen, Elerson and Murphy--Morgan's men, you know. "

The two riflemen saluted me with easy ceremony and sauntered over towhere Mount was standing at our horses' heads. 

"Hello, Catamount Jack, " said Elerson, humorously. "Where 'd ye stealthe squaw-buckskins? Look at the macaroni, Tim--all yellow andpurple fringe!"

Mount surveyed the riflemen in their suits of brown holland and beltedrifle-frocks. 

"Dave Elerson, you look like a Quakeress in a Dutch jerkin, " heobserved. 

"'Tis the nate turrn to yere leg he grudges ye, " said Murphy to Elerson. "Wisha, Dave, ye've the legs av a beau!"

"Bow-legs, Dave, " commented Mount. "It's not your fault, lad. I've seen'em run from the Iroquois as fast as Tim's--"

The bantering reply of the big Irishman was lost to me as Sir George ledme out of earshot, one arm linked in mine. 

I told him briefly of my mission, of my new rank in the army. Hecongratulated me warmly, and asked, in his pleasant way, for news of themanor, yet did not name Dorothy, which surprised me to the verge ofresentment. Twice I spoke of her, and he replied courteously, yet seemednothing eager to learn of her beyond what I volunteered. 

And at last I said: "Sir George, may I not claim a kinsman's privilegeto wish you joy in your great happiness?"

"What happiness?" he asked, blankly; then, in slight confusion, added:"You speak of my betrothal to your cousin Dorothy. I am stupid beyondpardon, Ormond; I thank you for your kind wishes. .. . I suppose Sir Lupustold you, " he added, vaguely. 

"My cousin Dorothy told me, " I said. 

"Ah! Yes--yes, indeed. But it is all in the future yet, Ormond. " Hemoved on, switching the long weeds with a stick he had found. "All inthe future, " he murmured, absently--"in fact, quite remote, Ormond. .. . By-the-way, you know why you were to meet me?"

"No, I don't, " I replied, coldly. 

"Then I'll tell you. The General is trying to head off Walter Butler andarrest him. Murphy and Elerson have just heard that Walter Butler'smother and sister, and a young lady, Magdalen Brant--you met her atVaricks'--are staying quietly at the house of a Tory named Beacraft. Wemust strive to catch him there; and, failing that, we must watchMagdalen Brant, that she has no communication with the Iroquois. " Hehesitated, head bent. "You see, the General believes that this younggirl can sway the False-Faces to peace or war. She was once theirpet--as a child. .. . It seems hard to believe that this lovely andcultivated young girl could revert to such savage customs. .. . And yetMurphy and Elerson credit it, and say that she will surely appear at theFalse-Faces' rites. .. . It is horrible, Ormond; she is a sweet child--byHeaven, she would turn a European court with her wit and beauty!"

"I concede her beauty, " I said, uneasy at his warm praise, "but as toher wit, I confess I scarcely exchanged a dozen words with her thatnight, and so am no judge. "

"Ah!" he said, with an absent-minded stare. 

"I naturally devoted myself to my cousin Dorothy, " I added, irritated, without knowing why. 

"Quite so--quite so, " he mused. "As I was saying, it seems cruel tosuspect Magdalen Brant, but the General believes she can sway theOneidas and Tuscaroras. .. . It is a ghastly idea. And if she does attemptthis thing, it will be through the infernal machinations and devilishpersuasions of the Butlers--mark that, Ormond!"

He turned short in his tracks and made a fierce gesture with his stick. It broke short, and he flung the splintered ends into the darkness. 

"Why, " he said, warmly, "there is not a gentler, sweeter disposition inthe world than Magdalen Brant's, if no one comes a-tampering to wake theIroquois blood in her. These accursed Butlers seem inspired by hellitself--and Guy Johnson!--What kind of a man is that, to take this younggirl from Albany, where she had forgotten what a council-fire meant, andbring her here to these savages--sacrifice her!--undo all those years ofculture and education!--rouse in her the dormant traditions and passionswhich she had imbibed with her first milk, and which she forgot when shewas weaned! That is the truth, I tell you! I know, sir! It was my unclewho took her from Guy Park and sent her to my aunt Livingston. She hadthe best of schooling; she was reared in luxury; she had every advantagethat could be gained in Albany; my aunt took her to London that shemight acquire those graces of deportment which we but roughlyimitate. .. . Is it not sickening to see Guy Johnson and Sir John exercisetheir power of relationship and persuade her from a good home back tothis?. .. Think of it, Ormond!"

"I do think of it, " said I. "It is wrong--it is cruel and shameful!"

"It is worse, " said Sir George, bitterly. "Scarce a year has she beenat Guy Park, yet to-day she is in full sympathy with Guy and Sir Johnand her dusky kinsman, Brant. Outwardly she is a charming, modest maid, and I do not for an instant mean you to think she is not chaste! TheIrish nation is no more famed for its chastity than the Mohawk, but Iknow that she listens when the forest calls--listens with savant ears, Ormond, and her dozen drops of dusky blood set her pulses flying to thefree call of the Wolf clan!"

"Do you know her well?" I asked. 

"I? No. I saw her at my aunt Livingston's. It was the other night that Italked long with her--for the first time in my life. "

He stood silent, knee-deep in the dewy weeds, hand worrying hissword-hilt, long cloak flung back. 

"You have no idea how much of a woman she is, " he said, vaguely. 

"In that case, " I replied, "you might influence her. "

He raised his thoughtful face to the stars, studying the Twin Pointers. 

"May I try?" he asked. 

"Try? Yes, try, in Heaven's name, Sir George! If she must speak to theOneidas, persuade her to throw her influence for peace, if you can. Atall events, I shall know whether or not she goes to the fire, for I amcharged by the General to find the False-Faces and report to him everyword said. .. . Do you speak Tuscarora, Sir George?"

"No; only Mohawk, " he said. "How are you going to find the False-Faces'meeting-place?"

"If Magdalen Brant goes, I go, " said I. "And while I'm watching her, Jack Mount is to range, and track any savage who passes the Iroquoistrail. .. . What do you mean to do with Murphy and Elerson?"

"Elerson rides back to the manor with our horses; we've no further usefor them here. Murphy follows me. .. . And I think we should be on ourway, " he added, impatiently. 

We walked back to the house, where old man Stoner and his two big boysstood with our riflemen, drinking flip. 

"Elerson, " I said, "ride my mare and lead the other horses back toVaricks'. Murphy, you will pilot us to Beacraft's. Jack, go forwardwith Murphy. "

Old Stoner wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, bit into a twistof tobacco, spat derisively, and said: "This pup Beacraft swares he'lllift my haar 'fore he gits through with me! Threatened men live long. Kindly tell him me an' my sons is to hum. Sir George. "

The big, lank boys laughed, and winked at me as I passed. 

"Good trail an' many skelps to ye!" said old Stoner. "If ye see FrancyMcCraw, jest tell him thar's a rope an' a apple-tree waitin' fur himdown to Fundy's Bush!"

"Tell Danny Redstock an' Billy Bones that the Stoner boys is smellin'almighty close on their trail!" called out the elder youth. 

Elerson, in his saddle, gathered the bridles that Mount handed him androde off into the darkness, leading Mount's horse and Sir George's at atrot. We filed off due west, Murphy and Mount striding in the lead, thenoise of the river below us on our left. A few rods and we swung south, then west into a wretched stump-road, which Sir George said was theMayfield road and part of the Sacandaga trail. 

The roar of the Kennyetto accompanied us, then for a while was lost inthe swaying murmur of the pines. Twice we passed trodden carrying-placesbefore the rushing of the river sounded once more far below us in agorge; and we descended into a hollow to a ford from which an Indiantrail ran back to the north. This was the Balston trail, which joinedthe Fish-House road; and Sir George said it was the trail I should havefollowed had it not been necessary for me to meet him at Fonda's Bush torelieve him of his horse. 

Now, journeying rapidly west, our faces set towards the Mayfield hills, we passed two or three small, cold brooks, on stepping-stones, where thedark sky, set with stars, danced in the ripples. Once, on a clearedhill, we saw against the sky the dim bulk of a lonely barn; then nothingmore fashioned by human hands until, hours later, we found Murphy andMount standing beside some rough pasture bars in the forest. How theyhad found them in the darkness of the woods--for we had long since leftthe stump-road--I do not know; but the bars were there, and a brushfence; and Murphy whispered that, beyond, a cow-path led toBeacraft's house. 

Now, wary of ambuscade, we moved on, rifles primed and cocked, traversing a wet path bowered by willow and alder, until we reached acornfield, fenced with split rails. The path skirted this, continuingunder a line of huge trees, then ascended a stony little hill, on whicha shadowy house stood. 

"Beacraft's, " whispered Murphy. 

Sir George suggested that we surround the house and watch it till dawn;so Mount circled the little hill and took station in the north, SirGeorge moved eastward, Murphy crept to the west, and I sat down underthe last tree in the lane, cocked rifle on my knees, pan sheltered undermy round cap of doeskin. 

Sunrise was to be our signal to move forward. The hours dragged; thestars grew no paler; no sign of life appeared in the ghostly house savewhen the west wind brought to me a faint scent of smoke, invisible asyet above the single chimney. 

But after a long while I knew that dawn was on the way towards thewestern hills, for a bird twittered restlessly in the tree above me, andI began to feel, rather than hear, a multitude of feathered stirringsall about me in the darkness. 

Would dawn never come? The stars seemed brighter than ever--no, one onthe eastern horizon twinkled paler; the blue-black sky had faded;another star paled; others lost their diamond lustre; a silvery pallorspread throughout the east, while the increasing chorus of the birdsgrew in my ears. 

Then a cock-crow rang out, close by, and the bird o' dawn's clearfanfare roused the feathered world to a rushing outpour of song. 

All the east was yellow now; a rose-light quivered behind the forestlike the shimmer of a hidden fire; then a blinding shaft of light fellacross the world. 

Springing to my feet, I shouldered my rifle and started across thepasture, ankle deep in glittering dew; and as I advanced Sir Georgeappeared, breasting the hill from the east; Murphy's big bulk loomed inthe west; and, as we met before the door of the house, Jack Mountsauntered around the corner, chewing a grass-stem, his long, brown riflecradled in his arm. 

"Rap on the door, Mount, " I said. Mount gave a round double rap, chewedhis grass-stem, considered, then rapped again, humming to himself in anunder-tone:

 "Is the old fox in? Is the old fox out? Is the old fox gone to Glo-ry? Oh, he's just come in, But he's just gone out, And I hope you like my sto-ry! Tink-a-diddle-diddle-diddle, Tink-a-diddle-diddle-dum--"

"Rap louder, " I said. 

Mount obeyed, chewed reflectively, and scratched his ear. 

 "Is the Tory in? Is the Tory out? Is the Tory gone to Glo-ry? Oh, he's just come in. But he's just gone out--"

"Knock louder, " I repeated. 

Murphy said he could drive the door in with his gun-butt; I shook myhead. 

"Somebody's coming, " observed Mount--

 "Tink-a-diddle-diddle--"

The door opened and a lean, dark-faced man appeared, dressed in hissmalls and shirt. He favored us with a sour look, which deepened to ascowl when he recognized Mount, who saluted him cheerfully. 

"Hello, Beacraft, old cock! How's the mad world usin' you these palmy, balmy days?"

"Pretty well, " said Beacraft, sullenly. 

"That's right, that's right, " cried Mount. "My friends and I thoughtwe'd just drop around. Ain't you glad, Beacraft, old buck?"

"Not very, " said Beacraft. 

"Not very!" echoed Mount, in apparent dismay and sorrow. "Ain't youenj'yin' good health, Beacraft?"

"I'm well, but I'm busy, " said the man, slowly. 

"So are we, so are we, " cried Mount, with a brisk laugh. "Come in, friends; you must know my old acquaintance Beacraft better; a King'sman, gentlemen, so we can all feel at home now!"

For a moment Beacraft looked as though he meant to shut the door in ourfaces, but Mount's huge bulk was in the way, and we all followed hislead, entering a large, unplastered room, part kitchen, part bedroom. 

"A King's man, " repeated Mount, cordially, rubbing his hands at thesmouldering fire and looking around in apparent satisfaction. "A King'sman; what the nasty rebels call a 'Tory, ' gentlemen. My! Ain't this niceto be all together so friendly and cosey with my old friend Beacraft?Who's visitin' ye, Beacraft? Anybody sleepin' up-stairs, old friend?"

Beacraft looked around at us, and his eyes rested on Sir George. 

"Who be you?" he asked. 

"This is my friend, Mr. Covert, " said Mount, fairly sweating cordialityfrom every pore--"my dear old friend, Mr. Covert--"

"Oh, " said Beacraft, "I thought he was Sir George Covert. .. . And yonderstands your dear old friend Timothy Murphy, I suppose?"

"Exactly, " smiled Mount, rubbing his palms in appreciation. 

The man gave me an evil look. 

"I don't know you, " he said, "but I could guess your business. " And toMount: "What do you want?"

"We want to know, " said I, "whether Captain Walter Butler is lodginghere?"

"He was, " said Beacraft, grimly; "he left yesterday. "

 "And I hope you like my sto-ry!"

hummed Mount, strolling about the room, peeping into closets andcupboards, poking under the bed with his rifle, and finally coming to ahalt at the foot of the stairs with his head on one side, like ajay-bird immersed in thought. 

Murphy, who had quietly entered the cellar, returned empty-handed, and, at a signal from me, stepped outside and seated himself on achopping-block in the yard, from whence he commanded a view of the houseand vicinity. 

"Now, Mr. Beacraft, " I said, "whoever lodges above must come down; andit would be pleasanter for everybody if you carried the invitation. "

"Do you propose to violate the privacy of my house?" he asked. 

"I certainly do. "

"Where is your warrant of authority?" he inquired, fixing hispenetrating eyes on mine. 

"I have my authority from the General commanding this department. Myinstructions are verbal--my warrant is military necessity. I fear thatthis explanation must satisfy you. "

"It does not, " he said, doggedly. 

"That is unfortunate, " I observed. "I will give you one more chance toanswer my question. What person or persons are on the floor above?"

"Captain Butler was there; he departed yesterday with his mother andsister, " replied Beacraft, maliciously. 

"Is that all?"

"Miss Brant is there, " he muttered. 

I glanced at Sir George, who had risen to pace the floor, throwing backhis military cloak. At sight of his uniform Beacraft's small eyes seemedto dart fire. 

"What were you doing when we knocked?" I inquired. 

"Cooking, " he replied, tersely. 

"Then cook breakfast for us all--and Miss Brant, " I said. "Mount, helpMr. Beacraft with the corn-bread and boil those eggs. Sir George, I wantMurphy to stay outside, so if you would spread the cloth--"

"Of course, " he said, nervously; and I started up the flimsy woodenstairway, which shook as I mounted. Beacraft's malignant eyes followedme for a moment, then he thrust his hands into his pockets and gloweredat Mount, who, whistling cheerfully, squatted before the fireplace, blowing the embers with a pair of home-made bellows. 

On the floor above, four doors faced the narrow passage-way. I knockedat one. A gentle, sleepy voice answered:

"Very well. "

Then, in turn, I entered each of the remaining rooms and searched. Inthe first room there was nothing but a bed and a bit of mirror framed inpine; in the second, another bed and a clothes-press which contained anempty cider-jug and a tattered almanac; in the third room a mattress layon the floor, and beside it two ink-horns, several quills, and a sheetof blue paper, such as comes wrapped around a sugar-loaf. The sheet ofpaper was pinned to the floor with pine splinters, as though adraughtsman had prepared it for drawing some plan, but there were nolines on it, and I was about to leave it when a peculiar odor in theclose air of the room brought me back to re-examine it on both sides. 

There was no mark on the blue surface. I picked up an ink-horn, sniffedit, and spilled a drop of the fluid on my finger. The fluid left nostain, but the odor I had noticed certainly came from it. I folded thepaper and placed it in my beaded pouch, then descended the stairs, tofind Mount stirring the corn-bread and Sir George laying a cloth overthe kitchen table, while Beacraft sat moodily by the window, watchingeverybody askance. The fire needed mending and I used the bellows. And, as I knelt there on the hearth, I saw a milky white stain slowly spreadover the finger which I had dipped into the ink-horn. I walked to thedoor and stood in the cool morning air. Slowly the white staindisappeared. 

"Mount, " I said, sharply, "you and Murphy and Beacraft will eat yourbreakfast at once--and be quick about it. " And I motioned Murphy intothe house and sat down on an old plough to wait. 

Through the open door I could see the two big riflemen plying spoon andknife, while Beacraft picked furtively at his johnny-cake, eyestravelling restlessly from Mount to Murphy, from Sir George to thewooden stairway. 

My riflemen ate like hounds after a chase, tipping their porridge-dishesto scrape them clean, then bolted eggs and smoking corn-bread in atrice, and rose, taking Beacraft with them to the doorway. 

"Fill your pipes, lads, " I said. "Sit out in the sun yonder. Mr. Beacraft may have some excellent stories to tell you. "

"I must do my work, " said Beacraft, angrily, but Mount and Murphy eachtook an arm and led the unwilling man across the strip of potato-hillsto a grassy knoll under a big oak, from whence a view of the house andclearing could be obtained. When I entered the house again, Sir Georgewas busy removing soiled plates and arranging covers for three; and Isat down close to the fire, drawing the square of blue paper from mypouch and spreading it to the blaze. When it was piping hot I laid itupon my knees and examined the design. What I had before me was awell-drawn map of the Kingsland district, made in white outline, showingtrails and distances between farms. And, out of fifty farms marked, forty-three bore the word "Rebel, " and were ornamented by littlered hatchets. 

Also, to every house was affixed the number, sex, and age of itsinhabitants, even down to the three-months babe in the cradle, thenumber of cattle, the amount of grain in the barns. 

Further, the Kingsland district of the county was divided into threesections, the first marked "McCraw's Operations, " the second "Butler andIndians, " the third "St. Leger's Indians and Royal Greens. " The paperwas signed by Uriah Beacraft. 

After a few moments I folded this carefully prepared plan for deliberateand wholesale murder and placed it in my wallet. 

Sir George looked up at me with a question in his eyes. I nodded, saying: "We have enough to arrest Beacraft. If you cannot persuadeMagdalen Brant, we must arrest her, too. You had best use all your art, Sir George. "

"I will do what I can, " he said, gravely. 

A moment later a light step sounded on the stairs; we both sprang to ourfeet and removed our hats. Magdalen Brant appeared, fresh and sweet as arose-peony on a dewy morning. 

"Sir George!" she exclaimed, in flushed dismay--"and you, too, Mr. Ormond!"

Sir George bowed, laughingly, saying that our journey had brought us sonear her that we could not neglect to pay our respects. 

"Where is Mr. Beacraft?" she said, bewildered, and at the same momentcaught sight of him through the open doorway, seated under the oak-tree, apparently in delightful confab with Murphy and Mount. 

"I do not quite understand, " she said, gazing steadily at Sir George. "We are King's people here. And you--"

She looked at his blue-and-buff uniform, shaking her head, then glancedat me in my fringed buckskins. 

"I trust this war cannot erase the pleasant memories of other days, MissBrant, " said Sir George, easily. "May we not have one more hour togetherbefore the storm breaks?"

"What storm, Sir George?" she asked, coloring up. 

"The British invasion, " I said. "We have chosen our colors; your kinsmenhave chosen theirs. It is a political, not a personal difference, MissBrant, and we may honorably clasp hands until our hands are needed forour hilts. "

Sir George, graceful and debonair, conducted her to her place at therough table; I served the hasty-pudding, making a jest of the situation. And presently we were eating there in the sunshine of the open doorway, chatting over the dinner at Varicks', each outvying the others to makethe best of an unhappy and delicate situation. 

Sir George spoke of the days in Albany spent with his aunt, and sheresponded in sensitive reserve, which presently softened under hisgentle courtesy, leaving her beautiful, dark eyes a trifle dim and herscarlet mouth quivering, "It is like another life, " she said. "It was too lovely to last. Ah, those dear people in Albany, and their great kindness to me! And now Ishall never see them again. "

"Why not?" asked Sir George. "My aunt Livingston would welcome you. "

"I cannot abandon my own kin, Sir George, " she said, raising herdistressed eyes to his. 

"There are moments when it is best to sever such ties, " I observed. 

"Perhaps, " she said, quickly; "but this is not the moment, Mr. Ormond. My kinsmen are exiled fugitives, deprived of their own lands by thosewho have risen in rebellion against our King. How can I, whom they lovedin their prosperity, leave them in their adversity?"

"You speak of Guy Johnson and Sir John?" I asked. 

"Yes; and of those brave people whose blood flows in my veins, " shesaid, quietly. "Where is the Mohawk nation now, Sir George? This istheir country, secured to them by solemn oath and covenant, inviolatefor all time. Their belts lie with the King of England; his belts liestill with my people, the Mohawks. Where are they?"

"Fled to Oswego with Sir John, " I said. 

"And homeless!" she added, in a low, tense voice--"homeless, withoutclothing, without food, save what Guy Johnson gives them; their womenand children utterly helpless, the graves of their fathers abandoned, their fireplace at Onondaga cold, and the brands scattered for the firsttime in a thousand years I This have you Boston people done--donealready, without striking a blow. "

She turned her head proudly and looked straight at Sir George. 

"Is it not the truth?" she asked. 

"Only in part, " he said, gently. Then, with infinite pains and delicacy, he told her of our government's desire that the Iroquois should notengage in the struggle; that if they had consented to neutrality theymight have remained in possession of their lands and all their ancientrights, guaranteed by our Congress. 

He pointed out the fatal consequences of Guy Johnson's councils, theeffect of Butler's lying promises, the dreadful results of such astruggle between Indians, maddened by the loss of their own homes, andsettlers desperately clinging to theirs. 

"It is not the Mohawks I blame, " he said, "it is those to whomopportunity has given wider education and knowledge--the Tories, who areattempting to use the Six Nations for their own selfish and terribleends!. .. If in your veins run a few drops of Mohawk blood, my child, English blood runs there, too. Be true to your bright Mohawk blood; betrue to the generous English blood. It were cowardly to denyeither--shameful to betray the one for the other. "

She gazed at him, fascinated; his voice swayed her, his handsome, graveface held her. Whether it was reason or emotion, mind or heart, I knownot, but her whole sensitive being seemed to respond to his voice; andas he played upon this lovely human instrument, varying his deep theme, she responded in every nerve, every breath. Reason, hope, sorrow, tenderness, passion--all these I read in her deep, velvet eyes, and inthe mute language of her lips, and in the timing pulse-beat under thelace on her breast. 

I rose and walked to the door. She did not heed my going, nor did SirGeorge. 

Under the oak-tree I found Murphy and Mount, smoking their pipes andwatching Beacraft, who lay with his rough head pillowed on his arms, feigning slumber. 

"Why did you mark so many houses with the red hatchet?" I asked, pleasantly. 

He did not move a muscle, but over his face a deep color spread to theneck and hair. 

"Murphy, " I said, "take that prisoner to General Schuyler!"

Beacraft sprang up, glaring at me out of bloodshot eyes. 

"Shoot him if he breaks away, " I added. 

From his convulsed and distorted lips a torrent of profanity burst asMurphy laid a heavy hand on his shoulder and faced him eastward. I drewthe blue paper from my wallet, whispered to Murphy, and handed it tohim. He shoved it inside the breast of his hunting-shirt, cocked hisrifle, and tapped Beacraft on the arm. 

So they marched away across the sunlit pasture, where blackbirds walkedamong the cattle, and the dew sparkled in tinted drops of fire. 

In all my horror of the man I pitied him, for I knew he was going to hisdeath, there through the fresh, sweet morning, under the blue heavens. Once I saw him look up, as though to take a last long look at a freesky, and my heart ached heavily. Yet he had plotted death in its mostdreadful shapes for others who loved life as well as he--death toneighbors, death to strangers--whole families, whom he had perhaps nevereven seen--to mothers, to fathers, old, young, babes in the cradle, babes at the breast; and he had set down the total of one hundred andtwenty-nine scalps at twenty dollars each, over his own signature. 

Schuyler had said to me that it was not the black-eyed Indians thepeople of Tryon County dreaded, but the blue-eyed savages. And I hadscarcely understood at that time how the ferocity of demons could liedormant in white breasts. 

Standing there with Mount under the oak, I saw Sir George and MagdalenBrant leave the house and stroll down the path towards the stream. SirGeorge was still speaking in his quiet, earnest manner; her eyes werefixed on him so that she scarce heeded her steps, and twice long spraysof sweetbrier caught her gown, and Sir George freed her. But her eyesnever wandered from him; and I myself thought he never looked sohandsome and courtly as he did now, in his officer's uniform andblack cockade. 

Where their pathway entered the alders, below the lane, they vanishedfrom our sight; and, leaving Mount to watch I went back to the house, tosearch it thoroughly from cellar to the dark garret beneath the eaves. 

At two o'clock in the afternoon Sir George and Magdalen Brant had notreturned. I called Mount into the house, and we cooked some eggs andjohnny-cake to stay our stomachs. An hour later I sent Mount out to makea circle of a mile, strike the Iroquois trail and hang to it till dark, following any traveller, white or red, who might be likely to lead himtowards the secret trysting-place of the False-Faces. 

Left alone at the house, I continued to rummage, finding nothing ofimportance, however; and towards dusk I came out to see if I mightdiscover Sir George and Magdalen Brant. They were not in sight. I waitedfor a while, strolling about the deserted garden, where a few poppiesturned their crimson disks towards the setting sun, and a peony lay deadand smelling rank, with the ants crawling all over it. In the mellowlight the stillness was absolute, save when a distant white-throat'ssilvery call, long drawn out, floated from the forest's darkening edge. 

The melancholy of the deserted home oppressed me, as though I hadwronged it; the sad little house seemed to be watching me out of itshumble windows, like a patient dog awaiting another blow. Beacraft'sworn coat and threadbare vest, limp and musty as the garments of a deadman, hung on a peg behind the door. I searched the pockets withrepugnance and found a few papers, which smelled like the covers ofancient books, memoranda of miserable little transactions--threepencepaid for soling shoes, twopence here, a penny there; nothing more. Ithrew the papers on the grass, dipped up a bucket of well-water, andrinsed my fingers. And always the tenantless house watched me furtivelyfrom its humble windows. 

The sun's brassy edge glittered above the blue chain of hills as Iwalked across the pasture towards the path that led winding among thealders to the brook below. I followed it in the deepening evening lightand sat down on a log, watching the water swirling through the flatstepping-stones where trout were swarming, leaping for the tiny wingedcreatures that drifted across the dusky water. And as I sat there Ibecame aware of sounds like voices; and at first, seeing no one, Ithought the noises came from the low bubbling monotone of the stream. Then I heard a voice murmuring: "I will do what you ask me--I will doeverything you desire. "

Fearful of eavesdropping, I rose, peering ahead to make myself known, but saw nothing in the deepening dusk. On the point of calling, thewords died on my lips as the same voice sounded again, close to me:

"I pray you let me have my way. I will obey you. How can you doubt it?But I must obey in my own way. "

And Sir George's deep, pleasant voice answered: "There is danger to youin this. I could not endure that, Magdalen. "

They were on a path parallel to the trail in which I stood, separatedfrom me by a deep fringe of willow. I could not see them, though nowthey were slowly passing abreast of me. 

"What do you care for a maid you so easily persuade?" she asked, with alittle laugh that rang pitifully false in the dusk. 

"It is her own merciful heart that persuades her, " he said, under hisbreath. 

"I think my heart is merciful, " she said--"more merciful than even Iknew. The restless blood in me set me afire when I saw the wrong done tothese patient people of the Long House. .. . And when they appealed to meI came here to justify them, and bid them stand for their ownhearths. .. . And now you come, teaching me the truth concerning right andwrong, and how God views justice and injustice; and how this tempest, once loosened, can never be chained until innocent and guilty are alikeingulfed. .. . I am very young to know all these things withoutcounsel. .. . I needed aid--and wisdom to teach me--your wisdom. Now, inmy turn, I shall teach; but you must let me teach in my way. There isonly one way that the Long House can be taught. .. . You do not believeit, but in this I am wiser than you--I know. "

"Will you not tell me what you mean to do, Magdalen?"

"No, Sir George. "

"When will you tell me?"

"Never. But you will know what I have done. You will see that I holdthree nations back. What else can you ask? I shall obey you. What moreis there?"

Her voice lingered in the air like an echo of flowing water, then diedaway as they moved on, until nothing sounded in the forest stillnesssave the low ripple of the stream. An hour later I picked my way back tothe house and saw Sir George standing in the starlight, and Mount besidehim, pointing towards the east. 

"I've found the False-Faces' trysting-place, " said Mount, eagerly, as Icame up. "I circled and struck the main Iroquois trail half a mileyonder in the bottom land--a smooth, hard trail, worn a foot deep, sir. And first comes an Onondaga war-party, stripped and painted somethingsickening, and I dogged 'em till they turned off into the bush to shoota doe full of arrows--though all had guns!--and left 'em eating. Thencomes three painted devils, all hung about with witch-drums and rattles, and I tied to them. And, would you believe it, sir, they kept me on afox-trot straight east, then south along a deer-path, till they struckthe Kennyetto at that sulphur spring under the big cliff--you know, SirGeorge, where Klock's old line cuts into the Mohawk country?"

"I know, " said Sir George. 

Mount took off his cap and scratched his ear. 

"The forest is full of little heaps of flat stones. I could see mypainted friends with the drums and rattles stop as they ran by, and eachpull a flat stone from the river and add it to the nearest heap. Thenthey disappeared in the ravine--and I guess that settles it, Captain Ormond. "

Sir George looked at me, nodding. 

"That settles it, Ormond, " he said. 

I bade Mount cook us something to eat. Sir George looked after him as heentered the house, then began a restless pacing to and fro, arms looselyclasped behind him. 

"About Magdalen Brant, " he said, abruptly. "She will not speak to thethree nations for Butler's party. The child had no idea of this wretchedconspiracy to turn the savages loose in the valley. She thought ourpeople meant to drive the Iroquois from their own lands--a blackdisgrace to us if we ever do!. .. They implored her to speak to them incouncil. Did you know they believe her to be inspired? Well, they do. When she was a child they got that notion, and Guy Johnson and WalterButler have been lying to her and telling her what to say to the Oneidasand Onondagas. "

He turned impatiently, pacing the yard, scowling, and gnawing his lip. 

"Where is she?" I asked. 

"She has gone to bed. She would eat nothing. We must take her back withus to Albany and summon the sachems of the three nations, with belts. "

"Yes, " I said, slowly. "But before we leave I must see the False-Faces. "

"Did Schuyler make that a point?"

"Yes, Sir George. "

"They say the False-Faces' rites are terrific, " he muttered. "ThankGod, that child will not be lured into those hideous orgies byWalter Butler!"

We walked towards the house where Mount had prepared our food. I satdown on the door-step to eat my porridge and think of what lay before meand how best to accomplish it. And at first I was minded to send SirGeorge back with Magdalen Brant and take only Mount with me. But whetherit was a craven dread of despatching to Dorothy the man she was pledgedto wed, or whether a desire for his knowledge and experience prompted meto invite his attendance at the False-Faces' rites, I do not knowclearly, even now. He came out of the house presently, and I asked himif he would go with me. 

"One of us should stay here with Magdalen Brant, " he said, gravely. 

"Is she not safe here?" I asked. 

"You cannot leave a child like that absolutely alone, " he answered. 

"Then take her to Varicks', " I said, sullenly. "If she remains here someof Butler's men will be after her to attend the council. "

"You wish me to go up-stairs and rouse her for a journey--now?"

"Yes; it is best to get her into a safe place, " I muttered. "She maychange her ideas, too, betwixt now and dawn. "

He re-entered the house. I heard his spurs jingling on the stairway, then his voice, and a rapping at the door above. 

Jack Mount appeared, rifle in hand, wiping his mouth with his fingers;and together we paced the yard, waiting for Sir George and MagdalenBrant to set out before we struck the Iroquois trail. 

Suddenly Sir George's heavy tread sounded on the stairs; he came to thedoor, looking about him, east and west. His features were pallid andset and seamed with stern lines; he laid an unsteady hand on my arm anddrew me a pace aside. 

"Magdalen Brant is gone, " he said. 

"Gone!" I repeated. "Where?"

"I don't know!" he said, hoarsely. 

I stared at him in astonishment. Gone? Where? Into the tremendousblackness of this wilderness that menaced us on all sides like a sea?And they had thought to tame her like a land-blown gull amongthe poultry!

"Those drops of Mohawk blood are not in her veins for nothing, " I said, bitterly. "Here is our first lesson. "

He hung his head. She had lied to him with innocent, smooth face, as allsuch fifth-castes lie. No jewelled snake could shed her skin as deftlyas this young maid had slipped from her shoulders the frail garment ofcivilization. 

The man beside me stood as though stunned. I was obliged to speak to himthrice ere he roused to follow Jack Mount, who, at a sign from me, hadstarted across the dark hill-side to guide us to the trysting-place ofthe False-Faces' clan. 

"Mount, " I whispered, as he lingered waiting for us at thestepping-stones in the dark, "some one has passed this trail since Istood here an hour ago. " And, bending down, I pointed to a high, flatstepping-stone, which glimmered wet in the pale light of the stars. 

Sir George drew his tinder-box, struck steel to flint, and lighted ashort wax dip. 

"Here!" whispered Mount. 

On the edge of the sand the dip-light illuminated the small imprint of awoman's shoe, pointing southeast. 

Magdalen Brant had heard the voices in the Long House. 

"The mischief is done, " said Sir George, steadily. "I take the blameand disgrace of this. "

"No; I take it, " said I, sternly. "Step back, Sir George. Blow out thatdip! Mount, can you find your way to that sulphur spring where the flatstones are piled in little heaps?"

The big fellow laughed. As he strode forward into the depthless sea ofdarkness a whippoorwill called. 

"That's Elerson, sir, " he said, and repeated the call twice. 

The rifleman appeared from the darkness, touching his cap to me. "Thehorses are safe, sir, " he said. "The General desires you to send yourreport through Sir George Covert and push forward with Mountto Stanwix. "

He drew a sealed paper from his pouch and handed it to me, saying that Iwas to read it. 

Sir George lighted his dip once more. I broke the seal and read myorders under the feeble, flickering light:

 "TEMPORARY HEADQUARTERS, VARICK MANOR, June 1, 1777. 

 To Captain Ormond, on scout:

 Sir, --The General commanding this department desires you to employ all art and persuasion to induce the Oneidas, Tuscaroras, and Onondagas to remain quiet. Failing this, you are again reminded that the capture of Magdalen Brant is of the utmost importance. If possible, make Walter Butler also prisoner, and send him to Albany under charge of Timothy Murphy; but, above all, secure the person of Magdalen Brant and send her to Varick Manor under escort of Sir George Covert. If, for any reason, you find these orders impossible of execution, send your report of the False-Faces' council through Sir George Covert, and push forward with the riflemen Mount, Murphy, and Elerson until you are in touch with Gansevoort's outposts at Stanwix. Warn Colonel Gansevoort that Colonel Barry St. Leger has moved from Oswego, and order out a strong scout towards Fort Niagara. Although Congress authorizes the employment of friendly Oneidas as scouts, General Schuyler trusts that you will not avail yourself of this liberty. Noblesse oblige! The General directs you to return only when you have carried out these orders to the best of your ability. You will burn this paper before you set out for Stanwix. I am, sir, "Your most humble and obedient servant, "JOHN HARROW, Major and A. D. C. To the Major-General Commanding. (Signed) PHILIP SCHUYLER, Major-General Commanding the Department of the North. "

Hot with mortification at the wretched muddle I had already made of mymission, I thrust the paper into my pouch and turned to Elerson. 

"You know Magdalen Brant?" I asked, impatiently. 

"Yes, sir. "

"There is a chance, " I said, "that she may return to that house on thehill behind us. If she comes back you will see that she does not leavethe house until we return. "

Sir George extinguished the dip once more. Mount turned and set off at aswinging pace along the invisible path; after him strode Sir George; Ifollowed, brooding bitterly on my stupidity, and hopeless now ofsecuring the prisoner in whose fragile hands the fate of theNorthland lay. 

XV

THE FALSE-FACES

For a long time we had scented green birch smoke, and now, on hands andknees, we were crawling along the edge of a cliff, the roar of the riverin our ears, when Mount suddenly flattened out and I heard him breathingheavily as I lay down close beside him. 

"Look!" he whispered, "the ravine is full of fire!"

A dull-red glare grew from the depths of the ravine; crimson shadowsshook across the wall of earth and rock. Above the roaring of the streamI heard an immense confused murmur and the smothered thumping rhythm ofdistant drumming. 

"Go on, " I whispered. 

Mount crawled forward, Sir George and I after him. The light belowburned redder and redder on the cliff; sounds of voices grew moredistinct; the dark stream sprang into view, crimson under the increasingfurnace glow. Then, as we rounded a heavy jutting crag, a great lightflared up almost in our faces, not out of the kindling ravine, butbreaking forth among the huge pines on the cliffs. 

"Their council-fire!" panted Mount. "See them sitting there!"

"Flatten out, " I whispered. "Follow me!" And I crawled straight towardsthe fire, where, ink-black against the ruddy conflagration, an enormouspine lay uprooted, smashed by lightning or tempest, I know not which. 

Into the dense shadows of the debris I crawled, Mount and Sir Georgefollowing, and lay there in the dark, staring at the forbidden circlewhere the secret mysteries of the False-Faces had already begun. 

Three great fires roared, set at regular intervals in a cleared space, walled in by the huge black pines. At the foot of a tree sat a whiteman, his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands. The man wasWalter Butler. 

On his right sat Brant, wrapped in a crimson blanket, his face paintedblack and scarlet. On his left knelt a ghastly figure wearing a scowlingwooden mask painted yellow and black. 

Six separate groups of Indians surrounded the fires. They were sachemsof the Six Nations, each sachem bearing in his hands the symbol of hisnation and of his clan. All were wrapped in black-and-white blankets, and their faces were painted white above the upper lip as though theywore skin-tight masks. 

Three young girls, naked save for the beaded clout, and painted scarletfrom brow to ankle, beat the witch-drums tump-a-tump! tump-a-tump! whilea fourth stood, erect as a vermilion statue, holding a chain belt wovenin black-and-white wampum. 

Behind these central figures the firelight fell on a solid semicircle ofsavages, crowns shaved, feathers aslant on the braided lock, and alloiled and painted for war. 

A chief, wrapped in a blue blanket, stepped out into the circle swingingthe carcass of a white dog by the hind-legs. He tied it to a black-birchsapling and left it dangling and turning round and round. 

"This for the Keepers of the Fires, " he said, in Tuscarora, and flungthe dog's entrails into the middle fire. 

Three young men sprang into the ring; each threw a log onto one of thefires. 

"The name of the Holder of the Heavens may now be spoken and heardwithout offence, " said an old sachem, rising. "Hark! brothers. Harken, Oyou wise men and sachems! The False-Faces are laughing in the ravinewhere the water is being painted with firelight. I acquaint you that theFalse-Faces are coming up out of the ravine!"

The witch-drums boomed and rattled in the silence that followed hiswords. Far off I heard the sound of many voices laughing and talking alltogether; nearer, nearer, until, torch in hand, a hideously maskedfigure bounded into the circle, shaking out his bristling cloak of greenreeds. Another followed, another, then three, then six, then a dozen, whirling their blazing torches; all horribly masked and smothered incoarse bunches of long, black hair, or cloaked with rustlingriver reeds. 

 "Ha! Ah-weh-hot-kwah! Ha! Ah-weh-hah! Ha! The crimson flower! Ha! The flower!"

they chanted, thronging around the central fire; then falling back in ahalf-circle, torches lifted, while the masked figures banked solidlybehind, chanted monotonously:

 "Red fire burns on the maple! Red fire burns in the pines. The red flower to the maple! The red death to the pines!"

At this two young girls, wearing white feathers and white weasel peltsdangling from shoulders to knees, entered the ring from opposite ends. Their arms were full of those spectral blossoms called "Ghost-corn, " andthey strewed the flowers around the ring in silence. Then three maidens, glistening in cloaks of green pine-needles, slipped into the firecircle, throwing showers of violets and yellow moccasin flowers over theearth, calling out, amid laughter, "Moccasins for whippoorwills! Violetsfor the two heads entangled!" And, their arms empty of blossoms, theydanced away, laughing while the False-Faces clattered their wooden masksand swung their torches till the flames whistled. 

Then six sachems rose, casting off their black-and-white blankets, andeach in turn planted branches of yellow willow, green willow, red osier, samphire, witch-hazel, spice-bush, and silver birch along the edge ofthe silent throng of savages. 

"Until the night-sun comes be these your barriers, O Iroquois!" theychanted. And all answered:

"The Cherry-maid shall lock the gates to the People of the Morning! A-e!ja-e! Wild cherry and cherry that is red!"

Then came the Cherry-maid, a slender creature, hung from head to footwith thick bunches of wild cherries which danced and swung when shewalked; and the False-Faces plucked the fruit from her as she passedaround, laughing and tossing her black hair, until she had beendespoiled and only the garment of sewed leaves hung from shoulderto ankle. 

A green blanket was spread for her and she sat down under the branch ofwitch-hazel. 

"The barrier is closed!" she said. "Kindle your coals from Onondaga, Oyou Keepers of the Central Fire!"

An aged sachem arose, and, lifting his withered arm, swept it eastward. 

"The hearth is cleansed, " he said, feebly. "Brothers, attend!She-who-runs is coming. Listen!"

A dead silence fell over the throng, broken only by the rustle of theflames. After a moment, very far away in the forest, something soundedlike the muffled gallop of an animal, paddy-pad! paddy-pad, comingnearer and ever nearer. 

"It's the Toad-woman!" gasped Mount in my ear. "It's the Huron witch!Ah! My God! look there!"

Hopping, squattering, half scrambling, half bounding into the firelightcame running a dumpy creature all fluttering with scarlet rags. A coarsemat of gray hair masked her visage; she pushed it aside and raised adreadful face in the red fire-glow--a face so marred, so horrible, thatI felt Mount shivering in the darkness beside me. 

Through the hollow boom-boom of the witch-drums I heard a murmurswelling from the motionless crowd, like a rising wind in the pines. Thehag heard it too; her mouth widened, splitting her ghastly visage. Asingle yellow fang caught the firelight. 

"O you People of the Mountain! O you Onondagas!" she cried. "I am cometo ask my Cayugas and my Senecas why they assemble here on the Kennyettowhen their council-fire and yours should burn at Onondaga! O youOneidas, People of the Standing Stone! I am come to ask my Senecas, myMountain-snakes, why the Keepers of the Iroquois Fire have let it goout? O you of the three clans, let your ensigns rise and listen. I speakto the Wolf, the Turtle, and the Bear! And I call on the seven kindredclans of the Wolf, and the two kindred clans of the Turtle, and the fourkindred clans of the Bear throughout the Six Nations of the Iroquoisconfederacy, throughout the clans of the Lenni-Lenape, throughout theHuron-Algonquins and their clans!

"And I call on the False-Faces of the Spirit-water and the Water ofLight!"

She shook her scarlet rags and, raising her arm, hurled a hatchet intoa painted post which stood behind the central fire. 

"O you Cayugas, People of the Carrying-place! Strike that war-post withyour hatchets or face the ghosts of your fathers in every trail!"

There was a deathly silence. Catrine Montour closed her horrible littleeyes, threw back her head, and, marking time with her flat foot, began to chant. 

She chanted the glory of the Long House; of the nations that drove theEries, the Hurons, the Algonquins; of the nation that purged the earthof the Stonish Giants; of the nation that fought the dreadful battle ofthe Flying Heads. She sang the triumph of the confederacy, the bondsthat linked the Elder Brothers and Elder Sons with the Esaurora, whosetongue was the sign of council unity. 

And the circle of savages began to sway in rhythm to her chanting, answering back, calling their challenge from clan to clan; until, suddenly, the Senecas sprang to their feet and drove their hatchets intothe war-post, challenging the Lenape with their own battle-cry:

"Yoagh! Yoagh! Ha-ha! Hagh! Yoagh!"

Then the Mohawks raised their war-yelp and struck the post; and theCayugas answered with a terrible cry, striking the post, and calling outfor the Next Youngest Son--meaning the Tuscaroras--to drawtheir hatchets. 

"Have the Seminoles made women of you?" screamed Catrine Montour, menacing the sachems of the Tuscaroras with clinched fists. 

"Let the Lenape tell you of women!" retorted a Tuscarora sachem, calmly. 

At this opening of an old wound the Oneidas called on the Lenape toanswer; but the Lenape sat sullen and silent, with flashing eyes fixedon the Mohawks. 

Then Catrine Montour, lashing herself into a fury, screamed forvengeance on the people who had broken the chain-belt with the LongHouse. Raving and frothing, she burst into a torrent of prophecy, whichsilenced every tongue and held every Indian fascinated. 

"Look!" whispered Mount. "The Oneidas are drawing their hatchets! TheTuscaroras will follow! The Iroquois will declare for war!"

Suddenly the False-Faces raised a ringing shout:

"Kree! Ha-ha! Kre-e!"

And a hideous creature in yellow advanced, rattling his yellow mask. 

Catrine Montour, slavering and gasping, leaned against the paintedwar-post. Into the fire-ring came dancing a dozen girls, all strung withbrilliant wampum, their bodies and limbs painted vermilion, sleevelessrobes of wild iris hanging to their knees. With a shout they chanted:

"O False-Faces, prepare to do honor to the truth! She who Dreams hascome from her three sisters--the Woman of the Thunder-cloud, the Womanof the Sounding Footsteps, the Woman of the Murmuring Skies!"

And, joining hands, they cried, sweetly: "Come, O Little RosebudWoman!--Ke-neance-e-qua! O-gin-e-o-qua!--Woman of the Rose!"

And all together the False-Faces cried: "Welcome to Ta-lu-la, theleaping waters! Here is I-é-nia, the wanderer's rest! Welcome, O Womanof the Rose!"

Then the grotesque throng of the False-Faces parted right and left; alynx, its green eyes glowing, paced out into the firelight; and behindthe tawny tree-cat came slowly a single figure--a young girl, bare ofbreast and arm; belted at the hips with silver, from which hung astraight breadth of doeskin to the instep of her bare feet. Her darkhair, parted, fell in two heavy braids to her knees; her lips weretinted with scarlet; her small ear-lobes and finger-tips were stained afaint rose-color. 

In the breathless silence she raised her head. Sir George's crushinggrip clutched my arm, and he fell a-shuddering like a man with ague. 

The figure before us was Magdalen Brant. 

The lynx lay down at her feet and looked her steadily in the face. 

Slowly she raised her rounded arm, opened her empty palm; then fromspace she seemed to pluck a rose, and I saw it there between herforefinger and her thumb. 

A startled murmur broke from the throng. "Magic! She plucks blossomsfrom the empty air!"

"O you Oneidas, " came the sweet, serene voice, "at the tryst of theFalse-Faces I have kept my tryst. 

"You wise men of the Six Nations, listen now attentively; and you, ensigns and attestants, attend, honoring the truth which from my twinlips shall flow, sweetly as new honey and as sap from April maples. "

She stooped and picked from the ground a withered leaf, holding it outin her small, pink palm. 

"Like this withered leaf is your understanding. It is for a maid toquicken you to life, . .. As I restore this last year's leaf to life, "she said, deliberately. 

In her open palm the dry, gray leaf quivered, moved, straightened, slowly turned moist and fresh and green. Through the intense silence theheavy, gasping breath of hundreds of savages told of the tension theystruggled under. 

She dropped the leaf to her feet; gradually it lost its green and curledup again, a brittle, ashy flake. 

"O you Oneidas!" she cried, in that clear voice which seemed to leave afloating melody in the air, "I have talked with my Sisters of theMurmuring Skies, and none but the lynx at my feet heard us. "

She bent her lovely head and looked into the creature's blazing orbs;after a moment the cat rose, took three stealthy steps, and lay down ather feet, closing its emerald eyes. 

The girl raised her head: "Ask me concerning the truth, you sachems ofthe Oneida, and speak for the five war-chiefs who stand in their paintbehind you!"

An old sachem rose, peering out at her from dim, aged eyes. 

"Is it war, O Woman of the Rose?" he quavered. 

"Neah!" she said, sweetly. 

An intense silence followed, shattered by a scream from the hag, Catrine. 

"A lie! It is war! You have struck the post, Cayugas! Senecas! Mohawks!It is a lie! Let this young sorceress speak to the Oneidas; they arehers; the Tuscaroras are hers, and the Onondagas and the Lenape! Letthem heed her and her dreams and her witchcraft! It concerns not you, OMountain-snakes! It concerns only these and False-Faces! She is theirprophetess; let her dream for them. I have dreamed for you, O ElderBrothers! And I have dreamed of war!!"

"And I of peace!" came the clear, floating voice, soothing the harshechoes of the hag's shrieking appeal. "Take heed, you Mohawks, and youCayuga war-chiefs and sachems, that you do no violence to thiscouncil-fire!"

"The Oneidas are women!" yelled the hag. 

Magdalen Brant made a curiously graceful gesture, as though throwingsomething to the ground from her empty hand. And, as all looked, something did strike the ground--something that coiled and hissed andrattled--a snake, crouched in the form of a letter S; and the lynxturned its head, snarling, every hair erect. 

"Mohawks and Cayugas!" she cried; "are you to judge the Oneidas?--youwho dare not take this rattlesnake in your hands?"

There was no reply. She smiled and lifted the snake. It coiled up in herpalm, rattling and lifting its terrible head to the level of her eyes. The lynx growled. 

"Quiet!" she said, soothingly. "The snake has gone, O Tahagoos, myfriend. Behold, my hand is empty; Sa-kwe-en-ta, the Fanged Onehas gone. "

It was true. There was nothing where, an instant before, I myself hadseen the dread thing, crest swaying on a level with her eyes. 

"Will you be swept away by this young witch's magic?" shrieked CatrineMontour. 

"Oneidas!" cried Magdalen Brant, "the way is cleared! Hiro [I havespoken]!"

Then the sachems of the Oneida stood up, wrapping themselves in theirblankets, and moved silently away, filing into the forest, followed bythe war-chiefs and those who had accompanied the Oneida delegation asattestants. 

"Tuscaroras!" said Magdalen Brant, quietly. 

The Tuscarora sachems rose and passed out into the darkness, followed bytheir suite of war-chiefs and attestants. 

"Onondagas!"

All but two of the Onondaga delegation left the council-fire. Amid aprofound silence the Lenape followed, and in their wake stalked threetall Mohicans. 

Walter Butler sprang up from the base of the tree where he had beensitting and pointed a shaking finger at Magdalen Brant:

"Damn you!" he shouted; "if you call on my Mohawks, I'll cut yourthroat, you witch!"

Brant bounded to his feet and caught Butler's rigid, outstretched arm. 

"Are you mad, to violate a council-fire?" he said, furiously. MagdalenBrant looked calmly at Butler, then deliberately faced the sachems. 

"Mohawks!" she called, steadily. 

There was a silence; Butler's black eyes were almost starting from hisbloodless visage; the hag, Montour, clawed the air in helpless fury. 

"Mohawks!" repeated the girl, quietly. 

Slowly a single war-chief rose, and, casting aside his blanket, drew hishatchet and struck the war-post. The girl eyed him contemptuously, thenturned again and called:

"Senecas!"

A Seneca chief, painted like death, strode to the post and struck itwith his hatchet. 

"Cayuga!" called the girl, steadily. 

A Cayuga chief sprang at the post and struck it twice. 

Roars of applause shook the silence; then a masked figure leaped towardsthe central fire, shouting: "The False-Faces' feast! Ho! Hoh! Ho-ooh!"

In a moment the circle was a scene of terrific excesses. Masked figurespelted each other with live coals from the fires; dancing, shrieking, yelping demons leaped about whirling their blazing torches; witch-drumsboomed; chant after chant was raised as new dancers plunged into thedelirious throng, whirling the carcasses of white dogs, painted withblue and yellow stripes. The nauseating stench of burned roast meatfilled the air, as the False-Faces brought quarters of venison andbaskets of fish into the circle and dumped them on the coals. 

Faster and more furious grew the dance of the False-Faces. The flyingcoals flew in every direction, streaming like shooting-stars across thefringing darkness. A grotesque masker, wearing the head-dress of a bull, hurled his torch into the air; the flaming brand lodged in the featherytop of a pine, the foliage caught fire, and with a crackling rush a vastwhirlwind of flame and smoke streamed skyward from the forest giant. 

"To-wen-yon-go [It touches the sky]!" howled the crazed dancers, leapingabout, while faster and faster came the volleys of live coals, until ayoung girl's hair caught fire. 

"Kah-none-ye-tah-we!" they cried, falling back and forming achain-around her as she wrung the sparks from her long hair, laughingand leaping about between the flying coals. 

Then the nine sachems of the Mohawks rose, all covering their breastswith their blankets, save the chief sachem, who is called "The TwoVoices. " The serried circle fell back, Senecas, Cayugas, and Mohawksshouting their battle-cries; scores of hatchets glittered, knives flashed. 

All alone in the circle stood Magdalen Brant, slim, straight, motionlessas a tinted statue, her hands on her hips. Reflections of the firesplayed over her, in amber and pearl and rose; violet lights lay underher eyes and where the hair shadowed her brow. Then, through thesilence, a loud voice cried: "Little Rosebud Woman, the False-Facesthank you! Koon-wah-yah-tun-was [They are burning the white dog]!"

She raised her head and laid a hand on each cheek. 

"Neah-wen-ha [I thank you], " she said, softly. 

At the word the lynx rose and looked up into her face, then turned andpaced slowly across the circle, green eyes glowing. 

The young girl loosened the braids of her hair; a thick, dark cloud fellover her bare shoulders and breasts. 

"She veils her face!" chanted the False-Faces. "Respect the veil! Adieu, O Woman of the Rose!"

Her hands fell, and, with bent head, moving slowly, pensively, shepassed out of the infernal circle, the splendid lynx stalking ather heels. 

No sooner was she gone than hell itself broke loose among theFalse-Faces; the dance grew madder and madder, the terrible rite ofsacrifice was enacted with frightful symbols. Through the awful din thethree war-cries pealed, the drums advanced, thundering; the iris-maidslighted the six little fires of black-birch, spice-wood, and sassafras, and crouched to inhale the aromatic smoke until, stupefied and quiveringin every limb with the inspiration of delirium, they stood erect, writhing, twisting, tossing their hair, chanting the splendors ofthe future!

Then into the crazed orgie leaped the Toad-woman like a gigantic scarletspider, screaming prophecy and performing the inconceivable and namelessrites of Ak-e, Ne-ke, and Ge-zis, until, in her frenzy, she went starkmad, and the devil worship began with the awful sacrifice of Leshee inBiskoonah. 

Horror-stricken, nauseated, I caught Mount's arm, whispering: "Enough, in God's name! Come away!"

My ears rang with the distracted yelping of the Toad-woman, who wasstrangling a dog. Faint, almost reeling, I saw an iris-girl fall inconvulsions; the stupefying smoke blew into my face, choking me. Istaggered back into the darkness, feeling my way among the unseen trees, gasping for fresh air. Behind me, Mount and Sir George came creeping, groping like blind men along the cliffs. 

"This way, " whispered Mount. 

XVI

ON SCOUT

Like a pursued man hunted through a dream, I labored on, leaden-limbed, trembling; and it seemed hours and hours ere the blue starlight brokeoverhead and Beacraft's dark house loomed stark and empty on thestony hill. 

Suddenly the ghostly call of a whippoorwill broke out from the willows. Mount answered; Elerson appeared in the path, making a sign for silence. 

"Magdalen Brant entered the house an hour since, " he whispered. "Shesits yonder on the door-step. I think she has fallen asleep. "

We stole forward through the dusk towards the silent figure on thedoor-step. She sat there, her head fallen back against the closed door, her small hands lying half open in her lap. Under her closed eyes thedark circles of fatigue lay; a faint trace of rose paint still clung toher lips; and from the ragged skirt of her thorn-rent gown one smallfoot was thrust, showing a silken shoe and ankle stained with mud. 

There she lay, sleeping, this maid who, with her frail strength, hadsplit forever the most powerful and ancient confederacy the world hadever known. 

Her superb sacrifice of self, her proud indifference to delicacy andshame, her splendid acceptance of the degradation, her instant andfearless execution of the only plan which could save the land from warwith a united confederacy, had left us stunned with admiration andhelpless gratitude. 

Had she gone to them as a white woman, using the arts of civilizedpersuasion, she could have roused them to war, but she could not havesoothed them to peace. She knew it--even I knew that among the Iroquoisthe Ruler of the Heavens can never speak to an Indian through the mouthof a white woman. 

As an Oneida, and a seeress of the False-Faces, she had answered theirappeal. Using every symbol, every ceremony, every art taught her as achild, she had swayed them, vanquishing with mystery, conquering, triumphing, as an Oneida, where a single false step, a single slip, amoment's faltering in her sweet and serene authority might have broughtout the appalling cry of accusation:

"Her heart is white!"

And not one hand would have been raised to prevent the sacrificial testwhich must follow and end inevitably in a dreadful death. 

 * * * * *

Mount and Elerson, moved by a rare delicacy, turned and walkednoiselessly away towards the hill-top. 

"Wake her, " I said to Sir George. 

He knelt beside her, looking long into her face; then touched herlightly on the hand. She opened her eyes, looked up at him gravely, thenrose to her feet, steadying herself on his bent arm. 

"Where have you been?" she asked, glancing anxiously from him to me. There was the faintest ring of alarm in her voice, a tint of color oncheek and temple. And Sir George, lying like a gentleman, answered: "Wehave searched the trails in vain for you. Where have you lainhidden, child?"

Her lips parted in an imperceptible sigh of relief; the pallor ofweariness returned. 

"I have been upon your business, Sir George, " she said, looking down ather mud-stained garments. Her arms fell to her side; she made a littlegesture with one limp hand. "You see, " she said, "I promised you. " Thenshe turned, mounting the steps, pensively; and, in the doorway, pausedan instant, looking back at him over her shoulder. 

 * * * * *

And all that night, lying close to the verge of slumber, I heard SirGeorge pacing the stony yard under the great stars; while the riflemen, stretched beside the hearth, snored heavily, and the death-watch tickedin the wall. 

At dawn we three were afield, nosing the Sacandaga trail to count thetracks leading to the north--the dread footprints of light, swift feetwhich must return one day bringing to the Mohawk Valley an awfulreckoning. 

At noon we returned. I wrote out my report and gave it to Sir George. Wespoke little together. I did not see Magdalen Brant again until theybade me adieu. 

And now it was two o'clock in the afternoon; Sir George had already setout with Magdalen Brant to Varicks' by way of Stoner's; Elerson andMount stood by the door, waiting to pilot me towards Gansevoort'sdistant outposts; the noon sunshine filled the deserted house and fellacross the table where I sat, reading over my instructions from Schuylerere I committed the paper to the flames. 

So far, no thanks to myself, I had carried out my orders in all save theapprehension of Walter Butler. And now I was uncertain whether to remainand hang around the council-fire waiting for an opportunity to seizeButler, or whether to push on at once, warn Gansevoort at Stanwix thatSt. Leger's motley army had set out from Oswego, and then return totrap Butler at my leisure. 

I crumpled the despatch into a ball and tossed it onto the live coals inthe fireplace; the paper smoked, caught fire, and in a moment more theblack flakes sank into the ashes. 

"Shall we burn the house, sir?" asked Mount, as I came to the doorwayand looked out. 

I shook my head, picked up rifle, pouch, and sack, and descended thesteps. At the same instant a man appeared at the foot of the hill, andElerson waved his hand, saying: "Here's that mad Irishman, Tim Murphy, back already. "

Murphy came jauntily up the hill, saluted me with easy respect, and drewfrom his pouch a small packet of papers which he handed me, noddingcarelessly at Elerson and staring hard at Mount as though he did notrecognize him. 

"Phwat's this?" he inquired of Elerson--"a Frinch cooroor, or maybe aSac shquaw in a buck's shirrt?"

"Don't introduce him to me, " said Mount to Elerson; "he'll try to kissmy hand, and I hate ceremony. "

"Quit foolin', " said Elerson, as the two big, over-grown boys seizedeach other and began a rough-and-tumble frolic. "You're just cuttin'capers, Tim, becuz you've heard that we're takin' the war-path--quitpullin' me, you big Irish elephant! Is it true we're takin' thewar-path?"

"How do I know?" cried Murphy; but the twinkle in his blue eyes betrayedhim; "bedad, 'tis home to the purty lasses we go this blessed day, f'rthe crool war is over, an' the King's got the pip, an--"

"Murphy!" I said. 

"Sorr, " he replied, letting go of Mount and standing at a respectfulslouch. 

"Did you get Beacraft there in safety?"

"I did, sorr. "

"Any trouble?"

"None, sorr--f'r me. "

I opened the first despatch, looking at him keenly. 

"Do we take the war-path?" I asked. 

"We do, sorr, " he said, blandly. "McDonald's in the hills wid the McCrawan'ten score renegades. Wan o' their scouts struck old man Schell's farman' he put buckshot into sivinteen o' them, or I'm a liar whereI shtand!"

"I knew it, " muttered Elerson to Mount. "Where you see smoke, there'sfire; where you see Murphy, there's trouble. Look at the grin onhim--and his hatchet shined up like a Cayuga's war-axe!"

I opened the despatch; it was from Schuyler, countermanding hisinstructions for me to go to Stanwix, and directing me to warn everysettlement in the Kingsland district that McDonald and some threehundred Indians and renegades were loose on the Schoharie, and thattheir outlying scouts had struck Broadalbin. 

I broke the wax of the second despatch; it was from Harrow, brieflythanking me for the capture of Beacraft, adding that the man had beensent to Albany to await court-martial. 

That meant that Beacraft must hang; a most disagreeable feeling cameover me, and I tore open the third and last paper, a bulky document, and read it:

 "VARICK MANOR, "June the 2d. "An hour to dawn. 

 "In my bedroom I am writing to you the adieu I should have said the night you left. Murphy, a rifleman, goes to you with despatches in an hour: he will take this to you, . .. Wherever you are. 

 "I saw the man you sent in. Father says he must surely hang. He was so pale and silent, he looked so dreadfully tired--and I have been crying a little--I don't know why, because all say he is a great villain. 

 "I wonder whether you are well and whether you remember me. " ("me" was crossed out and "us" written very carefully. ) "The house is so strange without you. I go into your room sometimes. Cato has pressed all your fine clothes. I go into your room to read. The light is very good there. I am reading the Poems of Pansard. You left a fern between the pages to mark the poem called 'Our Deaths'; did you know it? Do you admire that verse? It seems sad to me. And it is not true, either. Lovers seldom die together. " (This was crossed out, and the letter went on. ) "Two people who love--" ("love" was crossed out heavily and the line continued)--"two friends seldom die at the same instant. Otherwise there would be no terror in death. 

 "I forgot to say that Isene, your mare, is very well. Papa and the children are well, and Ruyven a-pestering General Schuyler to make him a cornet in the legion of horse, and Cecile, all airs, goes about with six officers to carry her shawl and fan. 

 "For me--I sit with Lady Schuyler when I have the opportunity. I love her; she is so quiet and gentle and lets me sit by her for hours, perfectly silent. Yesterday she came into your room, where I was sitting, and she looked at me for a long time--so strangely--and I asked her why, and she shook her head. And after she had gone I arranged your linen and sprinkled lavender among it. 

 "You see there is so little to tell you, except that in the afternoon some Senecas and Tories shot at one of our distant tenants, a poor man, one Christian Schell; and he beat them off and killed eleven, which was very brave, and one of the soldiers made a rude song about it, and they have been singing it all night in their quarters. I heard them from your room--where I sometimes sleep--the air being good there; and this is what they sang:

 "'A story, a story Unto you I will tell, Concerning a brave hero, One Christian Schell. 

 "'Who was attacked by the savages. And Tories, it is said; But for this attack Most freely they bled. 

 "'He fled unto his house For to save his life. Where he had left his arms In care of his wife. 

 "'They advanced upon him And began to fire, But Christian with his blunderbuss Soon made them retire. 

 "'He wounded Donald McDonald And drew him in the door, Who gave an account Their strength was sixty-four. 

 "'Six there was wounded And eleven there was killed Of this said party, Before they quit the field. '

 "And I think there are a hundred other verses, which I will spare you; not that I forget them, for the soldiers sang them over and over, and I had nothing better to do than to lie awake and listen. 

 "So that is all. I hear my messenger moving about below; I am to drop this letter down to him, as all are asleep, and to open the big door might wake them. 

 "Good-bye. 

 * * * * *

 "It was not my rifleman, only the sentry. They keep double watch since the news came about Schell. "Good-bye. I am thinking of you. 

 "DOROTHY. 

 "Postscript. --Please make my compliments and adieux to Sir George Covert. 

 "Postscript. --The rifleman is here; he is whistling like a whippoorwill. I must say good-bye. I am mad to go with him. Do not forget me!

 "My memories are so keen, so pitilessly real, I can scarce endure them, yet cling to them the more desperately. 

 "I did not mean to write this--truly I did not! But here, in the dusk, I can see your face just as it looked when you said good-bye!--so close that I could take it in my arms despite my vows and yours!

 "Help me to reason; for even God cannot, or will not, help me; knowing, perhaps, the dreadful after-life He has doomed me to for all eternity. If it is true that marriages are made in heaven, where was mine made? Can you answer? I cannot. (The whimper of the whippoorwill again!) Dearest, good-bye. Where my body lies matters nothing so that you hold my soul a little while. Yet, even of that they must rob you one day. Oh, if even in dying there is no happiness, where, where does it abide? Three places only have I heard of: the world, heaven, and hell. God forgive me, but I think the last could cover all. 

 "Say that you love me! Say it to the forest, to the wind. Perhaps my soul, which follows you, may hear if you only say it. (Once more the ghost-call of the whippoorwill!) Dear lad, good-bye!"

XVII

THE FLAG

Day after day our little scout of four traversed the roads and forestsof the Kingsland district, warning the people at the outlyingsettlements and farms that the county militia-call was out, and thatsafety lay only in conveying their families to the forts and respondingto the summons of authority without delay. 

Many obeyed; some rash or stubborn settlers prepared to defend theirhomes. A few made no response, doubtless sympathizing with their Toryfriends who had fled to join McDonald or Sir John Johnson in the North. 

Rumors were flying thick, every settlement had its full covey; everycross-road tavern buzzed with gossip. As we travelled from settlement tosettlement, we, too, heard something of what had happened in distantdistricts: how the Schoharie militia had been called out; how oneHuetson had been captured as he was gathering a band of Tories to jointhe Butlers; how a certain Captain Ball had raised a company ofsixty-three royalists at Beaverdam and was fled to join Sir John; howCaptain George Mann, of the militia, refused service, declaring himselfa royalist, and disbanding his company; how Adam Crysler had thrown hisimportant influence in favor of the King, and that the inhabitants ofTryon County were gloomy and depressed, seeing so many respectablegentlemen siding with the Tories. 

We learned that the Schoharie and Schenectady militia had refused tomarch unless some provision was made to protect their families in theirabsence; that Congress had therefore established a corps of invalids, consisting of eight companies, each to have one captain, twolieutenants, two ensigns, five sergeants, six corporals, two drums, twofifes, and one hundred men; one company to be stationed in Schoharie, and to be called the "Associate Exempts"; that three forts for theprotection of the Schoharie Valley were nearly finished, called theUpper, Lower, and Middle forts. 

More sinister still were the rumors from the British armies: Burgoynewas marching on Albany from the north with the finest train of artilleryever seen in America; St. Leger was moving from the west; McDonald hadstarted already, flinging out his Indian scouts as far as Perth andBroadalbin, and Sir Henry Clinton had gathered a great army at New Yorkand was preparing to sweep the Hudson Valley from Fishkill to Albany. And the focus of these three armies and of Butler's, Johnson's, andMcDonald's renegades and Indians was this unhappy county of Tryon, tornalready with internal dissensions; unarmed, unprovisioned, unorganized, almost ungarrisoned. 

I remember, one rainy day towards sunset, coming into a small hamletwhere, in front of the church, some score of farmers and yokels weregathered, marshalled into a single line. Some were armed with rifles, some with blunderbusses, some with spears and hay-forks. None woreuniform. As we halted to watch the pathetic array, their fifer anddrummer wheeled out and marched down the line, playing Yankee Doodle. Then the minister laid down his blunderbuss and, facing the company, raised his arms in prayer, invoking the "God of Armies" as though headdressed his supplication before a vast armed host. 

Murphy strove to laugh, but failed; Mount muttered vaguely under hisbreath; Elerson gnawed his lips and bent his bared head while the oldman finished his prayer to "The God of Armies!" then picked up hisblunderbuss and limped to his place in the scanty file. 

And again I remember one fresh, sweet morning late in June, standingwith my riflemen at a toll-gate to see some four hundred Tryon Countymilitia marching past on their way to Unadilla on the Susquehanna, whereBrant, with half a thousand savages, had consented to a last parley. Stout, wholesome lads they were, these Tryon County men; wearing brownand yellow uniforms cut smartly, and their officers in the Continentalbuff and blue, riding like regulars; curved swords shining and theirepaulets striking fire in the sunshine. 

"Palatines!" said Mount, standing to salute as an officer rode by. "That's General Herkimer--old Honikol Herkimer--with his hard, weather-tanned jaws and the devil lurking under his eyebrows; and thatyoung fellow in his smart uniform is Colonel Cox, old George Klock'sson-in-law; and yonder rides Colonel Harper! Oh, I know 'em, sir; I wasnot in these parts for nothing in '74 and '75!"

The drums and fifes were playing "Unadilla" as the regiment marchedpast; and my riflemen, lounging along the roadside, exchangedpleasantries with the hardy Palatines, or greeted acquaintances in theirimpudent, bantering manner:

"Hello! What's this Low Dutch regiment? Say, Han Yost, the pigs has eatoff your queue-band! Bedad, they marrch like Albany ducks in fly-time!Musha, thin, luk at the fat dhrummer laad! Has he apples in thim twocheeks, Jack? I dunnoa! Hey, there goes Wagner! Hello, Wagner! Wisha, laad, ye're cross-eyed an' shquint-lipped a-playin' yere fifehind-end furrst!"

And the replies from the dusty, brown ranks, steadily passing:

"Py Gott! dere's Jack Mount! Look alretty, Jacob! Hello, Elerson! Ishdot true you patch your breeches mit second-hand scalps you puy inMontreal? Vat you vas doing down here, Tim Murphy? Oh, joost look at demdevils of Morgan! Sure, Emelius, dey joost come so soon as ve go. Ya!Dey come to kiss our girls, py cricky! Uf I catch you round my girlalretty, Dave Elerson--"

"Silence! Silence in the ranks!" sang out an officer, riding up. Thebrown column passed on, the golden dust hanging along its flanks. Farahead we could still hear the drums and fifes playing "Unadilla. "

"They ought to have a flag; a flag's a good thing to fight for, " saidMount, looking after them. "I fought for the damned British rag when Iwas fifteen. Lord! it makes me boil to think that they've forgot what wedid for 'em!"

"We Virginians carried a flag at the siege o' Boston, " observed Elerson. "It was a rattlesnake on a white ground, with the motto, 'Don't treadon me!'"

I told them of the new flag that our Congress had chosen, describing itin detail. They listened attentively, but made no comment. 

It was on these expeditions that I learned something of these roughriflemen which I had not suspected--their passionate devotion to theforest. What the sea is to mariners, the endless, uncharted wildernesswas to these forest runners; they loved and hated it, they suspected andtrusted it. A forest voyage finished, they steered for the nearest portwith all the eager impatience of sea-cloyed sailors. Yet, scarcely werethey anchored in some frontier haven than they fell to dreaming of thewilderness, of the far silences in the trackless sea of trees, of thewinds ruffling the forest's crests till ten thousand trees toss theirleaves, silver side up, as white-caps flash, rolling in long patches ona heaving waste of waters. 

Yet, in all those weeks I never heard one word or hint of that devotionexpressed or implied, not one trace of appreciation, not one shadow ofsentiment. If I ventured to speak of the vast beauty of the woods, therewas no response from my shy companions; one appeared to vie with anotherin concealing all feeling under a careless mask and a bantering manner. 

Once only can I recall a voluntary expression of pleasure in beauty; itcame from Jack Mount, one blue night in July, when the heavens flashedunder summer stars till the vaulted skies seemed plated solidly withcrusted gems. 

"Them stars look kind of nice, " he said, then colored with embarrassmentand spat a quid of spruce-gum into the camp-fire. 

Yet humanity demands some outlet for accumulated sentiment, and thesemen found it in the dirge-like songs and laments and rude ballads of thewilderness, which I think bear a close resemblance to the sailor-men'ssongs, in words as well as in the dolorous melodies, fit only for thescraping whine of a two-string fiddle in a sugar-camp. 

The magic of June faded from the forests, smothered under themagnificent and deeper glory of July's golden green; the early summerripened into August, finding us still afoot in the Kingsland districtgathering in the loyal, warning the rash, comforting the down-cast, threatening the suspected. Twice, by expresses bound for Saratoga, Isent full reports to Schuyler, but received no further orders. Iwondered whether he was displeased at my failure to arrest WalterButler; and we redoubled our efforts to gain news of him. Three times weheard of his presence in or near the Kingsland district: once at TribesHill, once at Fort Plain, and once it was said he was living quietly ina farm-house near Johnstown, which he had the effrontery to enter inbroad daylight. But we failed to come up with him, and to this day I donot know whether any of this information we received was indeed correct. It was the first day of August when we heard of Butler's presence nearJohnstown; we had been lying at a tavern called "The Brick House, " atwo-story inn standing where the Albany and Schenectady roads fork nearFox Creek, and there had been great fear of McDonald's renegades thatweek, and I had advised the despatch of an express to Albany asking fortroops to protect the valley when I chanced to overhear a woman say thatfiring had been heard in the direction of Stanwix. 

The woman, a slattern, who was known by the unpleasant name of Rya'sPup, declared that Walter Butler had gone to Johnstown to join St. Legerbefore Stanwix, and that the Tories would give the rebels such adrubbing that we would all be crawling on our bellies yelling forquarter this day week. As the wench was drunk, I made little of herbabble; but the next day Murphy and Elerson, having been in touch withGansevoort's outposts, returned to me with a note from Colonel Willett:

 "FORT SCHUYLER (STANWIX), "August 2d, "DEAR SIR, --I transmit to you the contents of a letter from Colonel Gansevoort, dated July 28th:

 "'Yesterday, at three o'clock in the afternoon, our garrison was alarmed with the firing of four guns. A party of men was instantly despatched to the place where the guns were fired, which was in the edge of the woods, about five hundred yards from the fort; but they were too late. The villains were fled, after having shot three young girls who were out picking raspberries, two of whom were lying scalped and tomahawked; one dead and the other expiring, who died in about half an hour after she was brought home. The third had a bullet through her face, and crawled away, lying hid until we arrived. It was pitiful. The child may live, but has lost her mind. 

 "'This was accomplished by a scout of sixteen Tories of Colonel John Butler's command and two savages, Mohawks, all under direction of Captain Walter Butler. '

 "This, sir, is a revised copy of Colonel Gansevoort's letter to Colonel Van Schaick. Permit me to add, with the full approval of Colonel Gansevoort, that the scout under your command warns the militia at Whitestown of the instant approach of Colonel Barry St. Leger's regular troops, reinforced by Sir John Johnson's regiment of Royal Greens, Colonel Butler's Rangers, McCraw's outlaws, and seven hundred Mohawk, Seneca, and Cayuga warriors under Brant and Walter Butler. I will add, sir, that we shall hold this fort to the end. Respectfully, "MARINUS WlLLETT, Lieutenant-Colonel. "

Standing knee-deep in the thick undergrowth, I read this letter aloud tomy riflemen, amid a shocked silence; then folded it for transmission toGeneral Schuyler when opportunity might offer, and signed Murphy tolead forward. 

So Rya's Pup was right. Walter Butler had made his first mark on the redOswego trail!

We marched in absolute silence, Murphy leading, every nerve on edge, straining eye and ear for a sign of the enemy's scouts, now doubtlessswarming forward and to cover the British advance. 

But the wilderness is vast, and two armies might pass each otherscarcely out of hail and never know. 

Towards sundown I caught my first glimpse of a hostile Iroquoiswar-party. We had halted behind some rocks on a heavily timbered slope, and Mount was scrutinizing the trail below, where a little brook crossedit, flowing between mossy stones; when, without warning, a naked Mohawkstalked into the trail, sprang from rock to rock, traversing the bed ofthe brook like a panther, then leaped lightly into the trail again andmoved on. After him, in file, followed some thirty warriors, naked savefor the clout, all oiled and painted, and armed with rifles. One or twoglanced up along our slope while passing, but a gesture from the leaderhastened their steps, and more quickly than I can write it they haddisappeared among the darkening shadows of the towering timber. 

"Bad luck!" breathed Murphy; "'tis a rocky road to Dublin, but a shorterwan to hell! Did you want f'r to shoot, Jack? Look at Dave Elerson an'th' thrigger finger av him twitchin' all a-thremble! Wisha, lad! lavethe red omadhouns go. Arre you tired o' the hair ye wear, Jack Mount?Come on out o' this, ye crazy divil!"

Circling the crossing-place, we swung east, then south, coming presentlyto a fringe of trees through which the red sunset glittered, illuminating a great stretch of swamp, river, and cleared land beyond. "Yonder's the foort, " whispered Murphy--"ould Stanwix--or Schuyler, asthey call it now. Step this way, sorr; ye can see it plain across theMohawk shwamps. "

The red sunshine struck the three-cornered bastions of the rectangularfort; a distant bayonet caught the light and twinkled above thestockaded ditch like a slender point of flame. Outside the works squadsof troops moved, relieving the nearer posts; working details, marchingto and from the sawmill, were evidently busy with the unfinishedabattis; a long, low earth-work, surmounted by a stockade and ablock-house, which. Murphy said, guarded the covered way to the creek, swarmed with workmen plying pick and shovel and crowbar, while thesentries walked their beats above, watching the new road which crossedthe creek and ran through the swamp to the sawmill. 

"It is strange, " said Mount, "that they have not yet finished the fort. "

"It is stranger yet, " said Elerson, "that they should work so close tothe forest yonder. Look at that fatigue-party drawing logs withinpistol-shot of the woods--"

Before the rifleman could finish, a sentinel on the northwest parapetfired his musket; the entire scene changed in a twinkling; thefatigue-party scattered, dropping chains and logs; the workmen sprangout of ditch and pit, running for the stockade; a man, driving a team ofhorses along the new road, jumped up in his wagon and lashed his horsesto a gallop across the rough meadow; and I saw the wagon swaying andbumping up the slope, followed by a squad of troops on the double. Behind these ran a dozen men driving some frightened cattle; soldiersswarmed out on the bastions, soldiers flung open the water gates, soldiers hung over parapets, gesticulating and pointing westward. 

Suddenly from the bastion on the west angle of the fort a shaft of flameleaped; a majestic cloud buried the parapet, and the deep cannon-thundershook the evening air. Above the writhing smoke, now stained pink in thesunset light, a flag crept jerkily up the halyards of a tall flag-staff, higher, higher, until it caught the evening wind aloft and floatedlazily out. 

"It's the new flag, " whispered Elerson, in an awed voice. 

We stared at it, fascinated. Never before had the world seen that flagdisplayed. Blood-red and silver-white the stripes rippled; the stars onthe blue field glimmered peacefully. There it floated, serene above thedrifting cannon--smoke, the first American flag ever hoisted on earth. A freshening wind caught it, blowing strong out of the flaming west; thecannon-smoke eddied, settled, and curled, floating across its folds. Faraway we heard a faint sound from the bastions. They were cheering. 

Cap in hand I stood, eyes never leaving the flag; Mount uncovered, Elerson and Murphy drew their deer-skin caps from their headsin silence. 

After a little while we caught the glimmer of steel along the forest'sedge; a patch of scarlet glowed in the fading rays of sunset. Then, outinto the open walked a red-coated officer bearing a white flag andattended by a drummer in green and scarlet. 

Far across the clearing we heard drums beating the parley; and we knewthe British were at the gates of Stanwix, and that St. Leger hadsummoned the garrison to surrender. 

We waited; the white flag entered the stockade gate, only to reappearagain, quickly, as though the fort's answer to the summons had beenbrief and final. Scarcely had the ensign reached the forest than bang!bang! bang! bang! echoed the muskets, and the rifles spat flame into thedeepening dusk and the dark woods rang with the war-yell of half athousand Indians stripped for the last battles that the Long Houseshould ever fight. 

About ten o'clock that night we met a regiment of militia on theJohnstown road, marching noisily north towards Whitestown, and learnedthat General Herkimer's brigade was concentrating at an Oneida hamletcalled Oriska, only eight miles by the river highway from Stanwix, and alittle to the east of Oriskany creek. An officer named Van Slyck alsoinformed me that an Oneida interpreter had just come in, reporting St. Leger's arrival before Stanwix, and warning Herkimer that an ambuscadehad been prepared for him should he advance to raise the siege of thebeleaguered fort. 

Learning that we also had seen the enemy at Stanwix, this officer beggedus to accompany him to Oriska, where our information might provevaluable to General Herkimer. So I and my three riflemen fell in as thetroops tramped past; and I, for one, was astonished to hear their drumsbeating so loudly in the enemy's country, and to observe the carelessindiscipline in the ranks, where men talked loudly and their recklesslaughter often sounded above the steady rolling of the drums. 

"Are there no officers here to cuff their ears!" muttered Mount, indisgust. 

"Bah!" sneered Elerson; "officers can't teach militia--only a thrashingdoes 'em any good. After all, our people are like the British, full o'contempt for untried enemies. Do you recall how the red-coats wentswaggering about that matter o' Bunker Hill? They make no more frontalattacks now, but lay ambuscades, and thank their stars for theopportunity. "

A soldier, driving an ox-team behind us, began to sing that melancholyballad called "St. Clair's Defeat. " The entire company joined in thechorus, bewailing the late disaster at Ticonderoga, till Jack Mount, nigh frantic with disgust, leaped up into the cart and bawled out:

"If you must sing, damn you, I'll give something that rings!"

And he lifted his deep, full-throated voice, sounding the marching songof "Morgan's Men. "

 "The Lord He is our rampart and our buckler and our shield! We must aid Him cleanse His temple; we must follow Him afield. To His wrath we leave the guilty, for their punishment is sure; To His justice the downtrodden, for His mercy shall endure!"

And out of the darkness the ringing chorus rose, sweeping the columnfrom end to end, and the echoing drums crashed amen!

Yet there is a time for all things--even for praising God. 

XVIII

ORISKANY

It is due, no doubt, to my limited knowledge of military matters and tomy lack of practical experience that I did not see the battle ofOriskany as our historians have recorded it; nor did I, before or duringthe affair, notice any intelligent effort towards assuming the offensiveas described by those whose reports portray an engagement in which, after the first onset, some semblance of military order reigned. 

So, as I do not feel at liberty to picture Oriskany from the pens ofabler men, I must be content to describe only what I myself witnessed ofthat sad and unnecessary tragedy. 

For three days we had been camped near the clearing called Oriska, whichis on the south bank of the Mohawk. Here the volunteers and militia ofTryon County were concentrating from Fort Dayton in the utmost disorder, their camps so foolishly pitched, so slovenly in those matterspertaining to cleanliness and health, so inadequately guarded, that Isaw no reason why our twin enemies, St. Leger and disease, should notmake an end of us ere we sighted the ramparts of Stanwix. 

All night long the volunteer soldiery had been in-subordinate andriotous in the hamlet of Oriska, thronging the roads, shouting, singing, disputing, clamoring to be led against the enemy. Popular officers werecheered, unpopular officers jeered at, angry voices raised outsideheadquarters, demanding to know why old Honikol Herkimer delayed theadvance. Even officers shouted, "Forward! forward! Wake up Honikol!" Andspoke of the old General derisively, even injuriously, to their ownlasting disgrace. 

Towards dawn, when I lay down on the floor of a barn to sleep, theuproar had died out in a measure; but lights still flickered in the campwhere soldiers were smoking their pipes and playing cards by the flareof splinter-wood torches. As for the pickets, they paid not theslightest attention to their duties, continually leaving their posts tohobnob with neighbors; and the indiscipline alarmed me, for what couldone expect to find in men who roamed about where it pleased them, howling their dissatisfaction with their commander, and addressing theirofficers by their first names?

At eight o'clock on that oppressive August morning, while writing aletter to my cousin Dorothy, which an Oneida had promised to deliver, hebeing about to start with a message to Governor Clinton, I wasinterrupted by Jack Mount, who came into the barn, saying that a companyof officers were quarrelling in front of the sugar-shack occupied asheadquarters. 

I folded my letter, sealed it with a bit of blue balsam gum, and badeMount deliver it to the Oneida runner, while I stepped up the road. 

Of all unseemly sights that I have ever had the misfortune to witness, what I now saw was the most shameful. I pushed and shouldered my waythrough a riotous mob of soldiers and teamsters which choked thehighway; loud, angry voices raised in reproach or dispute assailed myears. A group of militia officers were shouting, shoving, andgesticulating in front of the tent where, rigid in his arm-chair, theGeneral sat, grim, narrow-eyed, silent, smoking a short clay pipe. Boltupright, behind him, stood his chief scout and interpreter, a superbOneida, in all the splendor of full war-paint, blazing with scarlet. 

Colonel Cox, a swaggering, intrusive, loud-voiced, and smartly uniformedofficer, made a sign for silence and began haranguing the old man, evidently as spokesman for the party of impudent malcontents groupedabout him. I heard him demand that his men be led against the Britishwithout further delay. I heard him condemn delay as unreasonable andunwarrantable, and the terms of speech he used were unbecoming toan officer. 

"We call on you, sir, in the name of Tryon County, to order us forward!"he said, loudly. "We are ready. For God's sake give the order, sir!There is no time to waste, I tell you!"

The old General removed the pipe from his teeth and leaned a littleforward in his chair. 

"Colonel Cox, " he said, "I haff Adam Helmer to Stanvix sent, mit deropject of inviting Colonel Gansevoort to addack py de rear ven ve addackpy dot left flank. 

"So soon as Helmer comes dot fort py, Gansevoort he fire cannon; und sosoon I hear cannon, I march! Not pefore, sir; not pefore!"

"How do we know that Helmer and his men will ever reach Stanwix?"shouted Colonel Paris, impatiently. 

"Ve vait, und py un' py ve know, " replied Herkimer, undisturbed. 

"He may be dead and scalped by now, " sneered Colonel Visscher. 

"Look you, Visscher, " said the old General; "it iss I who am here toanswer for your safety. Now comes Spencer, my Oneida, mit a pelt, whosvears to me dot Brant und Butler an ambuscade haff made for me. Vat Ido? Eh? I vait for dot sortie? Gewiss!"

He waved his short pipe. 

"For vy am I an ass to march me py dot ambuscade? Such a foolishness issdot talk! I stay me py Oriskany till I dem cannon hear. "

A storm of insolent protest from the mob of soldiers greeted hisdecision; the officers gesticulated and shouted insultingly, shovingforward to the edge of the porch. Fists were shaken at him, cries ofimpatience and contempt rose everywhere. Colonel Paris flung his swordon the ground. Colonel Cox, crimson with anger, roared: "If you delayanother moment the blood of Gansevoort's men be on your head!"

Then, in the tumult, a voice called out: "He's a Tory! We are betrayed!"And Colonel Cox shouted: "He dares not march! He is a coward!"

White to the lips, the old man sprang from his chair, narrow eyesablaze, hands trembling. Colonel Bellinger and Major Frey caught him bythe arm, begging him to remain firm in his decision. 

"Py Gott, no!" he thundered, drawing his sword. "If you vill haff it so, your blood be on your heads! Vorwärts!"

It is not for me to blame him in his wrath, when, beside himself withrighteous fury, he gave the bellowing yokels their heads and swept onwith them to destruction. The mutinous fools who had called him cowardand traitor fell back as their outraged commander strode silentlythrough the disordered ranks, noticing neither the proffered apologiesof Colonel Paris nor the stammered excuses of Colonel Cox. Behind himstalked the tall Oneida, silent, stern, small eyes flashing. And nowbegan the immense uproar of departure; confused officers ran aboutcursing and shouting; the smashing roll of the drums broke out, beatingthe assembly; teamsters rushed to harness horses; dismayed soldierspushed and struggled through the mass, searching for their regimentsand companies. 

Mounted on a gaunt, gray horse, the General rode through the disorder, quietly directing the incompetent militia officers in their tasks ofcollecting their men; and behind him, splendidly horsed and caparisoned, cantered the tall Oneida, known as Thomas Spencer the Interpreter, calm, composed, inscrutable eyes fixed on his beloved leader and friend. 

The drums of the Canajoharie regiment were beating as the drummers swungpast me, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, sweat pouring down theirsunburned faces; then came Herkimer, all alone, sitting his saddle likea rock, the flush of anger still staining his weather-ravaged visage, his small, wrathful eyes fixed on the north. 

Behind him rode Colonels Cox and Paris, long, heavy swords drawn, heading the Canajoharie regiment, which pressed forward excitedly. Theremaining regiments of Tryon County militia followed, led by ColonelSeeber, Colonel Bellenger, Majors Frey, Eisenlord, and Van Slyck. Thencame the baggage-wagons, some drawn by oxen, some by four horses; and inthe rear of these rode Colonel Visscher, leading the Caughnawagaregiment, closing the dusty column. 

"Damn them!" growled Elerson to Murphy, "they're advancing withoutflanking-parties or scouts. I wish Dan'l Morgan was here. "

"'Tis th' Gineral's jooty to luk out f'r his throops, not Danny Morgan'sor mine, " replied the big rifleman in disgust. 

The column halted. I signalled my men to follow me and hastened alongthe flanks under a fire of chaff: "Look at young buckskins! There goMorgan's macaronis! God help the red-coats this day! How's the scalptrade, son?"

Herkimer was sitting his horse in the middle of the road as I came up;and he scowled down at me when I gave him the officer's salute and stoodat attention beside his stirrup. 

"Veil, you can shpeak, " he said, bluntly; "efery-body shpeaks but me!"

I said that I and my riflemen were at his disposal if he desired leadersfor flanking-parties or scouts; and his face softened as he listened, looking down at me in silence. 

"Sir, " he said, "it iss to my shame I say dot my sodgers command me, notI my sodgers. "

Then, looking back at Colonel Cox, he added, bitterly:

"I haff ordered flanking-parties and scouts, but my officers, who knowmuch more than I, haff protested against dot useless vaste of time. Ithank you, sir; I can your offer not accept. "

The drums began again; the impatient Palatine regiment moved forward, yelling their approval, and we fell back to the roadside, while theboisterous troops tramped past, cheering, singing, laughing in theirexcitement. Mechanically we fell in behind the Caughnawagas, who formedthe rear-guard, and followed on through the dust; meaning to go withthem only a mile or so before we started back across country with thenews which I was now at liberty to take in person to General Schuyler. 

For I considered my mission at an end. In one thing only had I failed:Walter Butler was still free; but now that he commanded a company ofoutlaws and savages in St. Leger's army, I, of course, had no furtherhope of arresting him or of dealing with him in any manner save on thebattle-field. 

So at last I felt forced to return to Varick Manor; but the fear of thedread future was in me, and all the hopeless misery of a hopelesspassion made of me a coward, so that I shrank from the pain I mustsurely inflict and endure. Kinder for her, kinder for me, that we shouldnever meet again. 

Not that I desired to die. I was too young in life and love to wish fordeath as a balm. Besides, I knew it could not bring us peace. Still, itwas one solution of a problem otherwise so utterly hopeless that I, heartsick, had long since wearied of the solving and carried my hurtburied deep, fearful lest my prying senses should stir me to disinterthe dead hope lying there. 

Absence renders passion endurable. But at sight of her I loved I knew Icould not endure it; and, uncertain of myself, having twice nigh failedunder the overwhelming provocations of a love returned, I shrank fromthe coming duel 'twixt love and duty which must once more be foughtwithin my breast. 

Nor could my duty, fighting blindly, expect encouragement from her Iloved, save at the last gasp and under the heel of love. Then, only, atthe very last would she save me; for there was that within her whichrevolted at a final wrong, and I knew that not even our twin passioncould prevail to stamp out the last spark of conscience and slay oursouls forever. 

Brooding, as I trudged forward through the dust, I became aware that thedrums had ceased their beating, and that the men were marching quietlywith little laughter or noise of song. 

The heat was intense, although a black cloud had pushed up above thewest, veiling the sun. Flies swarmed about the column; sweat poured frommen and horses; the soldiers rolled back their sleeves and plodded on, muskets a-trail and coats hanging over their shoulders. Once, very faraway, the looming horizon was veined with lightning; and, after a longtime, thunder sounded. 

We had marched northward on a rutty road some two miles or more fromour camp at Oriska, and I was asking Mount how near we were to the oldAlgonquin-Iroquois trail which runs from the lakes across the wildernessto the healing springs at Saratoga, when the column halted and I heardan increasing confusion of voices from the van. 

"There's a ravine ahead, " said Elerson. "I'm thinking they'll havetrouble with these wagons, for there's a swamp at the bottom and only alog-road across. "

"Tis the proper shpot f'r to ambuscade us, " observed Murphy, craning hisneck and standing on tiptoe to see ahead. 

We walked forward and sat down on the bank close to the brow of thehill. Directly ahead a ravine, shaped like a half-moon, cut the road, and the noisy Canajoharie regiment was marching into it. The bottom ofthe ravine appeared to be a swamp, thinly timbered with tamarack andblue-beech saplings, where the reeds and cattails grew thick, andlittle, dark pools of water spread, all starred with water-lilies, shining intensely white in the gloom of the coming storm. 

"There do be wild ducks in thim rushes, " said Murphy, musingly. "Sure Icount it sthrange, Jack Mount, that thim burrds sit quiet-like an' ascreechin' rigiment marchin' acrost that log-road. "

"You mean that somebody has been down there before and scared the ducksaway?" I asked. 

"Maybe, sorr, " he replied, grimly. 

Instinctively we leaned forward to scan the rising ground on theopposite side of the ravine. Nothing moved in the dense thickets. Aftera moment Mount said quietly: "I'm a liar or there's a barked twigshowing raw wood alongside of that ledge. "

He glanced at the pan of his rifle, then again fixed his keen, blueeyes on the tiny glimmer of white which even I could distinguish now, though Heaven only knows how his eyes had found it in all that tangle. 

"That's raw wood, " he repeated. 

"A deer might bark a twig, " said I. 

"Maybe, sorr, " muttered Murphy; "but there's divil a deer w'ud nibblesheep-laurel. "

The men of the Canajoharie regiment were climbing the hill on the otherside of the ravine now. Colonel Cox came galloping back, shouting:"Bring up those wagons! The road is clear! Move your men forward there!"

Whips cracked; the vehicles rattled off down hill, drivers yelling, soldiers pushing the heavy wheels forward over the log-road below whichspurted water as the bumping wagons struck the causeway. 

I remember that Colonel Cox had just drawn bridle, half-way up theopposite incline, and was leaning forward in his saddle to watch theprogress of an ox-team, when a rifle-shot rang out and he tumbled cleanout of his saddle, striking the shallow water with a splash. 

Then hell itself broke loose in that black ravine; volley on volleypoured into the Canajoharie regiment; officers fell from their horses;drivers reeled and pitched forward under the heels of their plungingteams; wagons collided and broke down, choking the log-road. Louder andlouder the terrific yells of the outlaws and savages rang out on ourflanks; I saw our soldiers in the ravine running frantically in alldirections, falling on the log-road, floundering waist-deep in the waterand mud, slipping, stumbling, staggering; while faster and fastercracked the hidden rifles, and the pitiless bullets pelted them from theheights above. 

"Stand! Stand! you fools!" bawled Elerson. "Take to the timber! Everyman to a tree! For God's sake remember Braddock!"

"Look out!" shouted Mount, dragging me with him to a rock. "Close up, Elerson! Close up, Murphy!"

Straight into the stupefied ranks of the Caughnawaga company cameleaping the savages, shooting, stabbing, clubbing the dazed men, dragging them from the ranks with shrieks of triumph. I saw onehalf-naked creature, awful in his paint, run up and strike a soldierfull in the face with his fist, then dash out his brains with adeath-maul and tear his scalp off. 

Murphy and Mount were loading and firing steadily; Elerson and I keptour rifles ready for a rush. I was perfectly stunned; the spectacle didnot seem real to me. 

The Caughnawaga men, apparently roused from their momentary stupor, fellback into small squads, shooting in every direction; and the savages, unable to withstand a direct fire, sheered off and came bounding past usto cover, yelping like timber-wolves. Three darted directly at us; ayoung warrior, painted in bars of bright yellow, raised his hatchet tohurl it; but Murphy's bullet spun him round like a top till he crashedagainst a tree and fell in a heap, quivering all over. 

The two others had leaped on Mount. Swearing, threatening, roaring withrage, the desperate giant shook them off into our midst, and cut thethroat of one as he lay sprawling--a sickening spectacle, for the poorwretch floundered and thrashed about among the leaves and sticks, squirting thick blood all over us. 

The remaining savage, a chief, by his lock and eagle-quill, had fastenedto Elerson's legs with the fury of a tree-cat, clawing and squalling, while Murphy dealt him blow on blow with clubbed stock, and finally wasforced to shoot him so close that the rifle-flame set his greasedscalp-lock afire. 

"Take to the timber, you Tryon County men! Remember Braddock!" shoutedColonel Paris, plunging about on his wounded horse; while from everytree and bush rang out the reports of the rifles; and the steady streamof bullets poured into the Caughnawaga regiment, knocking the men downthe hill-side into the struggling mass below. Some dropped dead wherethey had been shot; some rolled to the log-road; some fell into themarsh, splashing and limping about like crippled wild fowl. 

"Advance der Palatine regiment!" thundered Herkimer. "Clear avay dotoxen-team!"

A drummer-boy of the Palatines beat the charge. I can see him yet, acurly-haired youngster, knee-deep in the mud, his white, frightened facefixed on his commander. They shot his drum to pieces; he beat steadilyon the flapping parchment. 

Across the swamp the Palatines were doggedly climbing the slope in theface of a terrible discharge. Herkimer led them. As they reached thecrest of the plateau, and struggled up and over, a rush of men in greenuniforms seemed to swallow the entire Palatine regiment. I saw thembayonet Major Eisenlord and finish him with their rifle-stocks; theystabbed Major Van Slyck, and hurled themselves at the mounted Oneida. Hatchet flashing, the interpreter swung his horse straight into theyelling onset and went down, smothered under a mass of enemies. 

"Vorwärts!" thundered Herkimer, standing straight up in his stirrups;but they shot him out of his saddle and closed with the Palatines, hilt to hilt. 

Major Frey and Colonel Bellenger fell under their horses, Colonel Seeberdropped dead into the ravine, Captain Graves was dragged from the ranksand butchered by bayonets; but those stubborn Palatines calmly dividedinto squads, and their steady fusillade stopped the rush of the RoyalGreens and sent the flanking savages howling to cover. 

Mount, Murphy, Elerson, and I lay behind a fallen hemlock, awaiting theflank attack which we now understood must surely come. For our regimentswere at last completely surrounded, facing outward in an irregularcircle, the front held by the Palatines, the rear by the Caughnawagas, the west by part of the Canajoharie regiment, and the east by a fractionof unbrigaded militia, teamsters, batt-men, bateaux-men, and half adozen volunteer rangers reinforced by my three riflemen. 

The scene was real enough to me now. Jack Mount, kneeling beside me, wasattempting to clean the blood from himself and Elerson with handfuls ofdried leaves. Murphy lay on his belly, watching the forest in front ofus, and his blue eyes seemed suffused with a light of their own in thedeepening gloom of the gathering thunder-storm. My nerves were alla-quiver; the awful screaming from the ravine had never ceased for aninstant, and in that darkening, slimy pit I could still see a swayingmass of men on the causeway, locked in a death-struggle. To and fro theyreeled; hatchet and knife and gun-stock glittered, rising and falling inthe twilight of the storm-cloud; the flames from the riflesflashed crimson. 

"Kape ye're eyes to the front, sorr; they do be comin'!" cried Murphy, springing briskly to his feet. 

I looked ahead into the darkening woods; the Caughnawaga men werefalling back, taking station behind trees; Mount stepped to the shelterof a big oak; Elerson leaped to cover under a pine; a Caughnawagabateaux-man darted past me, stationing himself on my right behind thetrunk of a dapple beech. Suddenly an Indian showed himself close infront; the Caughnawaga man fired and missed; and, quicker than I canwrite it, the savage was on him before he could reload and had brainedhim with a single castete-stroke. I fired, but the Mohawk was too quickfor me, and a moment later he bounded back into the brush while theforest rang with his triumphant scalp-yell. 

"That's what they're doing in front!" shouted Elerson. "When a soldierfires they're on him before he can reload!"

"Two men to a tree!" roared Jack Mount. "Double up there, youCaughnawaga men!"

Elerson glided cautiously to the oak which sheltered Mount; Murphy creptforward to my tree. 

"Bedad!" he muttered, "let the ondacent divils dhraw ye're fire an'welcome. I've a pill to purge 'em now. Luk at that, sorr! Shteady!Shteady an' cool does it!"

A savage, with his face painted half white and half red, stepped outfrom the thicket and dropped just as I fired. The next instant he cameleaping straight for our tree, castete poised. 

Murphy fired. The effect of the shot was amazing; the savage stoppedshort in mid-career as though he had come into collision with a stonewall; then Elerson fired, knocking him flat, head doubled under hisnaked shoulders, feet trailing across a rotting log. 

"Save ye're powther, Dave!" sang out Murphy. "Sure he was clean kilt ashe shtood there. Lave a dead man take his own time to fall!"

I had reloaded, and Murphy was coolly priming, when on our right therifles began speaking faster and faster, and I heard the sound of menrunning hard over the dry leaves, and the thudding gallop of horses. 

"A charge!" said Murphy. "There do be horses comin', too. Have theydhragoons?--I dunnoa. Ha! There they go! 'Tis McCraw's outlaws or I'm aDootchman!"

A shrill cock-crow rang out in the forest. 

"'Tis the chanticleer scalp-yell of that damned loon, Francy McCraw!" hecried, fiercely. "Give it to 'em, b'ys! Shoot hell into thedommed Tories!"

The Caughnawaga rifles rang out from every tree; a white man camerunning through the wood, and I instinctively held my fire. 

"Shoot the dhirrty son of a shlut!" yelled Murphy; and Elerson shot himand knocked him down, but the man staggered to his feet again, clutchingat his wounded throat, and reeled towards us. He fell again, got on hisknees, crawled across the dead leaves until he was scarce fifteen yardsaway, then fell over and lay there, coughing. 

"A dead wan, "' said Murphy, calmly; "lave him. "

McCraw's onset passed along our extreme left; the volleys grew furious;the ghastly cock-crow rang out shrill and piercing, and we fired at longrange where the horses were passing through the rifle-smoke. 

Then, in the roar of the fusillade, a bright flash lighted up theforest; a thundering crash followed, and the storm burst, deluging thewoods with rain. Trees rocked and groaned, dashing their tops together;the wind rose to a hurricane; the rain poured down, beating the leavesfrom the trees, driving friend and foe to shelter. The reports of therifles ceased; the war-yelp died away. Peal on peal of thunder shook theearth; the roar of the tempest rose to a steady shriek through which theterrific smashing of falling trees echoed above the clash of branches. 

Soaked, stunned, blinded by the awful glare of the lightning, I crouchedunder the great oak, which rocked and groaned, convulsed to its beddedroots, so that the ground heaved under me as I lay. 

I could not see ten feet ahead of me, so thick was the gloom with rainand flying leaves and twigs. The thunder culminated in a series offearful crashes; bolt after bolt fell, illuminating the flying chaos ofthe tempest; then came a stunning silence, slowly filled with the steadyroar of the rain. 

A gray pallor grew in the woods. I looked down into the ravine and saw amuddy lake there full of dead men and horses. 

The wounded Tory near us was still choking and coughing, dying hard outthere in the rain. Mount and Elerson crept over to where we lay, and, after a moment's conference, Murphy led us in a long circle, swinginggradually northward until we stumbled into the drenched Palatineregiment, which was still holding its ground. There was no firing oneither side; the guns were too wet. 

On a wooded knoll to the left a group of dripping men had gathered. Somebody said that the old General lay there, smoking and directing thedefence, his left leg shattered by a ball. I saw the blue smoke of hispipe curling up under the tree, but I did not see him. 

The wind had died out; the thunder rolled off to the northward, muttering among the hills; rain fell less heavily; and I saw wounded mentearing strips from their soaking shirts to bind their hurts. Detailsfrom the Canajoharie regiment passed us searching the underbrush fortheir dead. 

I also noticed with a shudder that Elerson and Murphy carried two freshscalps apiece, tied to the belts of their hunting-shirts; but I saidnothing, having been warned by Jack Mount that they considered it theirprerogative to take the scalps of those who had failed to take theirs. 

How they could do it I cannot understand, for I had once seen the bodyof a scalped man, with the skin, released from the muscles of theforehead, hanging all loose and wrinkled over the face. 

With the ceasing of the rain came the renewed crack of the rifles andthe whiz of bullets. We took post on the extreme left, firingdeliberately at McCraw's renegades; and I do not know whether I hit anyor not, but five men did I see fall under the murderous aim of Murphy;and I know that Elerson shot two savages, for he went down into theravine after them and returned with the wet, red trophies. 

The sun was now shining again with a heat so fierce and intense that theearth smoked vapor all around us. It was at this time that I, personally, experienced the only close fighting of the day, whichbrought a sudden end to this most amazing and bloody skirmish. 

I had been lying full length behind a bush in the lines of the Palatineregiment, eating a crust of bread; for that strange battle-hunger hadbeen gnawing at my vitals for an hour. Some of the men were eating, somefiring; the steaming heat almost suffocated me as I lay there, yet Imunched on, ravenous as a December wolf. 

I heard somebody shout: "Here they come!" and, filling my mouth withbread, I rose to my knees to see. 

A body of troops in green uniforms came marching steadily towards us, led by a red-coated officer on horseback; and all around me thePalatines were springing to their feet, uttering cries of rage, cursingthe oncoming troops, and calling out to them by name. 

For the detachment of Royal Greens which now advanced to the assaultwas, it appeared, composed of old acquaintances and neighbors of thePalatines, who had fled to join the Tories and Indians and now returnedto devastate their own county. 

Lashed to ungovernable fury by the sight of these hated renegades, theentire regiment leaped forward with a roar and rushed on the advancingdetachment, stabbing, shooting, clubbing, throttling. Mutual hatredmade the contest terrible beyond words; no quarter was given on eitherside. I saw men strangle each other with naked hands; kick each other todeath, fighting like dogs, tooth and nail, rolling over the wet ground. 

The tide had not yet struck us; we fired at their mounted officer, whomElerson declared he recognized as Major Watts, brother-in-law to SirJohn Johnson; and presently, as usual, Murphy hit him, so that the youngfellow dropped forward on his saddle and his horse ran away, flinginghim against a tree with a crash, doubtless breaking every bone inhis body. 

Then, above the tumult, out of the north came booming threecannon-shots, the signal from the fort that Herkimer had desired towait for. 

A detachment from the Canajoharie regiment surged out of the woods witha ringing cheer, pointing northward, where, across a clearing, a body oftroops were rapidly advancing from the direction of the fort. 

"The sortie! The sortie!" shouted the soldiers, frantic with joy. Murphyand I ran towards them; Elerson yelled: "Be careful! Look at theiruniforms! Don't go too close to them!"

"They're coming from the north!" bawled Mount. "They're our own people, Dave! Come on!"

Captain Jacob Gardinier, with a dozen Caughnawaga men, had alreadyreached the advancing troops, when Murphy seized my arm and halted me, crying out, "Those men are wearing their coats turned inside out!They're Johnson's Greens!"

At the same instant I recognized Colonel John Butler as the officerleading them; and he knew me and, without a word, fired his pistol atme. We were so near them now that a Tory caught hold of Murphy and triedto stab him, but the big Irishman kicked him headlong and rushed intothe mob, swinging his long hatchet, followed by Gardinier and hisCaughnawaga men, whom the treachery had transformed into demons. 

In an instant all around me men were swaying, striking, shooting, panting, locked in a deadly embrace. A sweating, red-faced soldierclosed with me; chin to chin, breast to breast we wrestled; and I shallnever forget the stifling struggle--every detail remains, his sunburnedface, wet with sweat and powder-smeared; his irregular teeth showingwhen I got him by the throat, and the awful change that came over hisvisage when Jack Mount shoved the muzzle of his rifle against thestruggling fellow and shot him through the stomach. 

Freed from his death-grip, I stood breathing convulsively, handsclinched, one foot on my fallen rifle. An Indian ran past me, chased byElerson and Murphy, but the savage dodged into the underbrush, shrieking, "Oonah! Oonah! Oonah!" and Elerson came back, waving hisdeer-hide cap. 

Everywhere Tories, Royal Greens, and Indians were running into thewoods; the wailing cry, "Oonah! Oonah!" rose on all sides now. Gardinier's Caughnawaga men were shooting rapidly; the Palatines, masterof their reeking brush-field, poured a heavy fire into the detachment ofretreating Greens, who finally broke and ran, dropping sack and rifle intheir flight, and leaving thirty of their dead under the feet of thePalatines. 

The soldiers of the Canajoharie regiment came up, swarming over a woodedknoll on the right, only to halt and stand, silently leaning ontheir rifles. 

For the battle of Oriskany was over. 

There was no cheering from the men of Tryon County. Their victory hadbeen too dearly bought; their losses too terrible; their triumphsterile, for they could not now advance the crippled fragments of theirregiments and raise the siege in the face of St. Leger's regulars andWalter Butler's Rangers. 

Their combat with Johnson's Greens and Brant's Mohawks had been fought;and, though masters of the field, they could do no more than hold theirground. Perhaps the bitter knowledge that they must leave Stanwix to itsfate, and that, too, through their own disobedience, made the bettersoldiers of them in time. But it was a hard and dreadful lesson; and Isaw men crying, faces hidden in their powder-blackened hands, as thedying General was borne through the ranks, lying gray and motionless onhis hemlock litter. 

And this is all that I myself witnessed of that shameful ambuscade andmurderous combat, fought some two miles north of the dirty camp, and nowknown as the Battle of Oriskany. 

That night we buried our dead; one hundred on the field where they hadfallen, two hundred and fifty in the burial trenches atOriskany--thirty-five wagon-loads in all. Scarcely an officer of rankremained to lead the funeral march when the muffled drums of thePalatines rolled at midnight, and the smoky torches moved, and thedead-wagons rumbled on through the suffocating darkness of a starlessnight. We had few wounded; we took no prisoners; Oriskany meant death. We counted only thirty men disabled and some score missing. 

"God grant the missing be safely dead, " prayed our camp chaplain at theburial trench. We knew what that meant; worse than dead were thewretched men who had fallen alive into the hands of old John Butler andhis son, Walter, and that vicious drunkard, Barry St. Leger, who hadoffered, over his own signature, two hundred and forty dollars a dozenfor prime Tryon County scalps. 

I slept little that night, partly from the excitement of my firstserious combat, partly because of the terrible heat. Our outposts, nowpainfully overzealous and alert, fired off their muskets at everyfancied sound or movement, and these continual alarms kept me awake, though Mount and Murphy slept peacefully, and Elerson yawned on guard. 

Towards sunrise rain fell heavily, but brought no relief from the heat;the sun, a cherry-red ball, hung a hand's-breadth over the forests whenthe curtain of rain faded away. The riflemen, curled up in the hay onthe barn floor, snored on, unconscious; the batt-horses crunched andmunched in the manger; flies whirled and swarmed over a wheelbarrowpiled full of dead soldier's shoes, which must to-day be distributedamong the living. 

All the loathsome and filthy side of war seemed concentrated around thebarn-yard, where sleepy, unshaven, half-dressed soldiers were burningthe under-clothes of a man who had died of the black measles; while agreat, brawny fellow, naked to the waist and smeared from hair to ankleswith blood, butchered sheep, so that the army might eat that day. 

The thick stench of the burning clothing, the odor of blood, the piteousbleating of the doomed creatures sickened me; and I made my way out ofthe barn and down to the river, where I stripped and waded out to washme and my clothes. 

A Caughnawaga soldier gave me a bit of soap; and I spent the morningthere. By noon the fierce heat of the sun had dried my clothes; by twoo'clock our small scout of four left the Stanwix and Johnstown road andstruck out through the unbroken wilderness for German Flatts. 

XIX

THE HOME TRAIL

For eleven days we lay at German Flatts, Colonel Visscher begging us toaid in the defence of that threatened village until the women andchildren could be conveyed to Johnstown. But Sir John Johnson remainedbefore Stanwix, and McCraw's riders gave the village wide berth, and onthe 18th of August we set out for Varicks'. 

Warned by our extreme outposts, we bore to the south, forced miles outof our course to avoid the Oneida country, where a terrific little warwas raging. For the Senecas, Cayugas, a few Mohawks, and McCraw'srenegade Tories, furious at the neutral and pacific attitude of theOneidas towards our people, had suddenly fallen upon them, tooth andnail, vowing that the Oneida nation should perish from the earth fortheir treason to the Long House. 

We skirted the doomed region cautiously, touching here and there thefringe of massacre and fire, often scenting smoke, sometimes hearing adistant shot. Once we encountered an Oneida runner, painted blue andwhite, and naked save for the loin-cloth, who told us of the civil warthat was already rending the Long House; and I then understood morefully what Magdalen Brant had done for our cause, and how far-reachinghad been the effects of her appearance at the False-Faces' council-fire. 

The Oneida appeared to be disheartened. He sullenly admitted to us thatthe Cayugas had scattered his people and laid their village in ashes; hecursed McCraw fiercely and promised a dreadful retaliation on anyrenegade captured. He also described the fate of the Oriskany prisonersand some bateaux-men taken by Walter Butler's Rangers near Wood Creek;and I could scarcely endure to listen, so horrid were the details of oursoldiers' common fate, where Mohawk and Tory, stripped and paintedalike, conspired to invent atrocities undreamed of for theirwretched victims. 

It was then that I heard for the second time the term "Blue-eyedIndian, " meaning white men stained, painted, and disguised as savages. More terrifying than the savages themselves, it appeared, were theblue-eyed Indians to the miserable settlers of Tryon. For hellishingenuity and devilish cruelty these mock savages, the Oneida assuredus, had nothing to learn from their red comrades; and I shall never beable to efface from my mind the memory of what we saw, that very day, ina lonely farm-house on the flats of the Mohawk; nor was it necessarythat McCraw should have left his mark on the shattered door--a cockcrowing, drawn in outline by a man's forefinger steeped in blood--toenlighten those who might not recognize the ghastly work as his. 

We stayed there for three hours to bury the dead, an old man and woman, a young mother, and five children, the youngest an infant not a yearold. All had been scalped; even the watch-dog lay dead near the bloodycradle. We dug the shallow graves with difficulty, having nothing towork with save our hunting-knives and some broken dishes which we foundin the house; and it was close to noon before we left the lonely flatand pushed forward through miles of stunted willow growth towards theriver road which led to Johnstown. 

I shall never forget Mount's set face nor Murphy's terrible, vacantstare as we plodded on in absolute silence. Elerson led us on a steadytrot hour after hour, till, late in the afternoon, we crossed the riverroad and wheeled into it exhausted. 

The west was all aglow; cleared land and fences lay along the roadside;here and there houses loomed up in the red, evening light, but theirinhabitants were gone, and not a sign of life remained about them savefor the circling swallows whirling in and out of the blackened chimneys. 

So still, so sad this solitude that the sudden chirping of a robin inthe evening shadows startled us. 

The sun sank behind the forest, turning the river to a bloody red; a foxyapped and yapped from a dark hill-side; the moon's yellow light flashedout through the trees; and, with the coming of the moon, far in thewilderness the owls began and the cries of the night-hawks died awayin the sky. 

The first human being that we encountered was a miller riding an ancienthorse towards a lane which bordered a noisy brook. 

When he discovered us he whipped out a pistol and bade us stand where wewere; and it took all my persuasion to convince him that we were notrenegades from McCraw's band. 

We asked for news, but he had none, save that a heavy force of oursoldiers was lying by the roadside some two miles below on their way torelieve Fort Stanwix. The General, he believed, was named Arnold, andthe troops were Massachusetts men; that was all he knew. 

He seemed stupid or perhaps stunned, having lost three sons in a battlesomewhere near Bennington, and had that morning received word of hisloss. How the battle had gone he did not know; he was on his way up thecreek to lock his mill before joining the militia at Johnstown. He wasnot too old to carry the musket he had carried at Braddock's battle. Besides, his boys were dead, and there was no one in his family excepthimself to help our Congress fight the red-coats. 

We watched him ride off into the darkness, gray head erect, pistolshining in his hand; then moved on, searching the distance for theoutpost we knew must presently hail us. And, sure enough, from theshadow of a clump of trees came the smart challenge: "Halt! Whogoes there?"

"Officer from Herkimer and scout of three with news for GeneralSchuyler!" I answered. 

"Halt, officer with scout! Sergeant of the guard! Post number three!"

Dark figures swarmed in the road ahead; a squad of men came up on thedouble. 

"Advance officer!" rang out the summons; a torch blazed, throwing a redglare around us; a red-faced old officer in brown and scarlet walked upand took the packet of papers which I extended. 

"Are you Captain Ormond?" he asked, curiously, glancing at theendorsement on my papers. 

I replied that I was, and named Murphy, Elerson, and Mount as my scout. 

When the soldiers standing about heard the notorious names of menalready famed in ballad and story, they craned their necks to see, as mytired riflemen filed into the lines; and the staff-officer made himselfexceedingly agreeable and civil, conducting us to a shelter made ofbalsam branches, before which a smudge was burning. 

"General Arnold has despatches for you, Captain Ormond, " he said; "I amDrummond, Brigade Major; we expected you at Varick Manor on theninth--you wrote to your cousin, Miss Varick, from Oriskany, you know. "

A soldier came up with two headquarters lanterns which he hung on thecross-bar of the open-faced hut; another soldier brought bread andcheese, a great apple-pie, a jug of spring water, and a bottle ofbrandy, with the compliments of Brigadier-General Arnold, and apologiesthat neither cloth, glasses, nor cutlery were included in thecamp baggage. 

"We're light infantry with a vengeance, Captain Ormond, " said MajorDrummond, laughing; "we left at twenty-four hours' notice! Gad, sir! theday before we started the General hadn't a squad under his orders; butwhen Schuyler called for volunteers, and his brigadiers began to raisehell at the idea of weakening the army to help Stanwix, Arnold came outof his fit of sulks on the jump! 'Who'll follow me to Stanwix?' hebawls; and, by gad, sir, the Massachusetts men fell over each othertrying to sign the rolls. "

He laughed again, waving my papers in the air and slapping them down ona knapsack. 

"You will doubtless wish to hand these to the General yourself, " hesaid, pleasantly. "Pray, sir, do not think of standing on ceremony; Ihave dined, Captain. "

Mount, who had been furtively licking his lips and casting obliqueglances at the bread and cheese, fell to at a nod from me. Murphy andElerson joined him, bolting huge mouthfuls. I ate sparingly, havinglittle appetite left after the sights I had seen in that lonely house onthe Mohawk flats. 

The gnats swarmed, but the smoke of the green-moss smudge kept them fromus in a measure. I asked Major Drummond how soon it might be convenientfor General Arnold to receive me, and he sent a young ensign toheadquarters, who presently returned saying that General Arnold wasmaking the rounds and would waive ceremony and stop at our post onhis return. 

"There's a soldier, sir!" said Major Drummond, emphasizing his wordswith a smart blow of his riding-cane on his polished quarter-boots. "He's had us on a dog-trot since we started; up hill, down dale, acrossthe cursed Sacandaga swamps, through fords chin-high! By gad, sir! allowme to tell you that nothing stopped us! We went through windfalls likepartridges; we crossed the hills like a herd o' deer in flight! We ranas though the devil were snapping at our shanks! I'm half dead, thankyou--and my shins!--you should see where that razor-boned nag of mineshaved bark enough off the trees with me to start every tannery betweenthe Fish-House and Half-moon!"

The ruddy-faced Major roared at the recital of his own misfortunes. Mount and Murphy looked up with sympathetic grins; Elerson had fallenasleep against the side of the shack, a bit of pie, half gnawed, clutched in his brier-torn fist. 

I had a pipe, but no tobacco; the Major filled my pipe, purringcontentedly; a soldier, at a sign from him, took Mount and Murphy to thenearest fire, where there was a gill of grog and plenty of tobacco. Iroused Elerson, who gaped, bolted his pie with a single mighty effort, and stumbled off after his comrades. Major Drummond squatted downcross-legged before the smudge, lighting his corn-cob pipe from a bit ofglowing moss, and leaned back contentedly, crossing his arms behindhis head. 

"I'm tired, too, " he said; "we march again at midnight. If it's nosecret, I should like to know what's going on ahead there. "

"It's no secret, " I said, soberly; "the Senecas and Cayugas areharrying the Oneidas; the renegades are riding the forest, murderingwomen and infants. St. Leger is firing bombs at Stanwix, and Visscher isholding German Flatts with some Caughnawaga militia. "

"And Herkimer?" asked Drummond, gravely. 

"Dead, " I replied, in a low voice. 

"Good gad, sir! I had not heard that!" he exclaimed. 

"It is true, Major. The old man died while I was at German Flatts. Theysay the amputation of his leg was a wretched piece of work. .. . He diedbolt upright in his bed, smoking his pipe, and reading aloud thethirty-eighth Psalm. .. . His men are wild with grief, they say. .. . Theycalled him a coward the morning of Oriskany. "

After a silence the Major's emotion dimmed his twinkling eyes; hedragged a red bandanna handkerchief from his coat-tails and blew hisnose violently. 

"All flesh is grass--eh, Captain? And some of it devilish poor grass atthat, eh? Well, well; we can't make an army in a day. But, by gad, sir, we've done uncommonly well. You've heard of--but no, you haven't, either. Here's news for you, friend, since you've been in the woods. Onthe sixth, while you fellows were shooting down some three hundred andfifty of the Mohawks, Royal Greens, and renegades, that sly oldwolverine, Marinus Willett, slipped out of the fort, fell on Sir John'scamp, and took twenty-one wagon-loads of provisions, blankets, ammunition, and tools; also five British standards and every bit ofpersonal baggage belonging to Sir John Johnson, including his privatepapers, maps, memoranda, and all orders and instructions for thecompleted plans of campaign. .. . Wait, if you please, sir. That isnot all. 

"On the sixteenth, old John Stark fell upon Baum's and Breyman'sHessians at Bennington, killed and wounded over two hundred, capturedseven hundred; took a thousand stand of arms, a thousand fine dragoonsabres, and four excellent field-cannon with limbers, harness, andcaissons. .. . And lost fourteen killed!"

Speechless at the good news, I could only lean across the smudge andshake hands with him while he chuckled and slapped his knee, growingruddier in the face every moment. 

"Where are the red-coats now?" he cried. "Look at 'em! Burgoyne, scaredwitless, badgered, dogged from pillar to post, his army on the defensivefrom Still water down to Half-moon; St. Leger, destitute of his campbaggage, caught in his own wolf-pit, flinging a dozen harmless bombs atStanwix, and frightened half to death at every rumor from Albany;McDonald chased out of the county; Mann captured, and Sir Henry Clintondawdling in New York and bothering his head over Washington whileBurgoyne, in a devil of a plight, sits yonder yelling for help!

"Where's the great invasion, Ormond? Where's the grand advance on thecentre? Where's the gigantic triple blow at the heart of this scurvyrebellion? I don't know; do you?"

I shook my head, smilingly; he beamed upon me; we had a swallow ofbrandy together, and I lay back, deathly tired, to wait for Arnold andmy despatches. 

"That's right, " commented the genial Major, "go to sleep while you can;the General won't take it amiss--eh? What? Oh, don't mind me, my son. Old codgers like me can get along without such luxuries as sleep. It'sthe young lads who require sleep. Eh? Yes, sir; I'm serious. Wait tillyou see sixty year! Then you'll understand. .. . So I'll just sithere, . .. And smoke, . .. And talk away in a buzz-song, . .. And thatwill fix--"

 * * * * *

I looked up with a start; the Major had disappeared. In my eyes alantern was shining steadily. Then a shadow moved, and I turned andstumbled to my feet, as a cloaked figure stepped into the shelter andstood before me, peering into my eyes. 

"I'm Arnold; how d'ye do, " came a quick, nervous voice from the depthsof the military cloak. "I've a moment to stay here; we march in tenminutes. Is Herkimer dead?"

I described his death in a few words. 

"Bad, bad as hell!" he muttered, fingering his sword-hilt and staringoff into the darkness. "What's the situation above us? Gansevoort'sholding out, isn't he? I sent him a note to-night. Of course he'sholding out; isn't he?"

I made a short report of the situation as I knew it; the General lookedstraight into my eyes as though he were not listening. 

"Yes, yes, " he said, impatiently. "I know how to deal with St. Leger andSir John--I wrote Gansevoort that I understood how to deal with them. Hehas only to sit tight; I'll manage the rest. "

His dark, lean, eager visage caught the lantern light as he turned toscan the moonlit sky. "Ten minutes, " he muttered; "we should strikeGerman Flatts by sundown to-morrow if our supplies come up. " And, aloud, with an abrupt and vigorous gesture, "McCraw's band are scalping thesettlers, they say?"

I told him what I had seen. He nodded, then his virile face changed andhe gave me a sulky look. 

"Captain Ormond, " he said, "folk say that I brood over the wrongs doneme by Congress. It's a lie; I don't care a damn about Congress--but letit pass. What I wish to say is this: On the second of August the bestgeneral in these United States except George Washington was deprived ofhis command and superseded by a--a--thing named Gates. .. . I speak ofGeneral Philip Schuyler, my friend, and now my fellow-victim. "

Shocked and angry at the news of such injustice to the man whosesplendid energy had already paralyzed the British invasion of New York, I stiffened up, rigid and speechless. 

"Ho!" cried Arnold, with a disagreeable laugh. "It mads you, does it?Well, sir, think of me who have lived to see five men promoted over myhead--and I left in the anterooms of Congress to eat my heart out! Butlet that pass, too. By the eternal God, I'll show them what stuff is inme! Let it pass, Ormond, let it pass. "

He began to pace the ground, gnawing his thick lower lip, and if everthe infernal fire darted from human eyes, I saw its balefulflicker then. 

With a heave of his chest and a scowl, he controlled his voice, stoppingin his nervous walk to face me again. 

"Ormond, you've gone up higher--the commission is here. " He pulled apacket of papers from his breast-pocket and thrust them at me. "Schuylerdid it. He thinks well of you, sir. On the first of August he learnedthat he was to be superseded. He told Clinton that you deserved acommission for what you did at that Iroquois council-fire. Here it is;you're to raise a regiment of rangers for local defence of the Mohawkdistrict. .. . I congratulate you, Colonel Ormond. "

He offered his bony, nervous hand; I clasped it, dazed and speechless. 

"Remember me, " he said, eagerly. "Let me count on your voice at the nextcouncil of war. You will not regret it, Colonel. Even if you gohigher--even if you rise over my luckless head, you will not regret thefriendship of Benedict Arnold. For, by Heaven, sir, I have it in me tolead men; and they shall not keep me down, and they shall not fetterme--no, not even this beribboned lap-dog Gates!. .. Stand my friend, Ormond. I need every friend I have. And I promise you the world shallhear of me one day!"

I shall never forget his worn and shadowy face, the long nose, thestrong, selfish chin, the devouring flame burning his soul outthrough his eyes. 

"Luck be with you!" he said, abruptly, extending his hand. Once morethat bony, fervid clasp, and he was gone. 

A moment later the ground vibrated; a dark, massed column of troopsappeared in the moonlight, marching swiftly without drum-tap or spokencommand; the dim forms of mounted officers rode past like shadowsagainst the stars; vague shapes of wagons creaked after, rolling onmuffled wheels; more troops followed quickly; then the shadowy pageantended; and there was nothing before me but the moon in the sky above aworld of ghostly wilderness. 

One camp lantern had been left for my use; by its nickering light Iuntied the documents left me by Arnold; and, sorting the papers, chosefirst my orders, reading the formal notice of my transfer from Morgan'sRifles to the militia; then the order detailing me to the Mohawkdistrict, with headquarters at Varick Manor; and, finally, my commissionon parchment, signed by Governor Clinton and by Philip Schuyler, Major-General Commanding the Department of the North. 

It was, perhaps, the last official act as chief of department of thisgenerous man. 

The next letter was in his own handwriting. I broke the heavy seal andread:

 "ALBANY, "August 10, 1777. "Colonel George Ormond"

 "MY DEAR YOUNG FRIEND, --As you have perhaps heard rumors that General Gates has superseded me in command of the army now operating against General Burgoyne, I desire to confirm these rumors for your benefit. 

 "My orders I now take from General Gates, without the slightest rancor, I assure you, or the least unworthy sentiment of envy or chagrin. Congress, in its wisdom, has ordered it; and I count him unspeakably base who shall serve his country the less ardently because of a petty and personal disappointment in ambitions unfulfilled. 

 "I remain loyal in heart and deed to my country and to General Gates, who may command my poor talents in any manner he sees fitting. 

 "I say this to you because I am an older man, and I know something of younger men, and I have liked you from the first. I say it particularly because, now that you also owe duty and instant obedience to General Gates, I do not wish your obedience retarded, or your sense of duty confused by any mistaken ideas of friendship to me or loyalty to my person. 

 "In these times the individual is nothing, the cause everything. Cliques, cabals, political conspiracies are foolish, dangerous--nay, wickedly criminal. For, sir, as long as the world endures, a house divided against itself must fall. 

 "Which leads me with greatest pleasure to mention your wise and successful diplomacy in the matter of the Long House. That house you have most cleverly divided against itself; and it must fall--it is tottering now, shaken to its foundations of centuries. Also, I have the pleasure to refer to your capture of the man Beacraft and his papers, disclosing a diabolical plan of murder. The man has been condemned by a court on the evidence as it stood, and he is now awaiting execution. 

 "I have before me Colonel Visscher's partial report of the battle of Oriskany. Your name is not mentioned in this report, but, knowing you as I believe I do, I am satisfied that you did your full duty in that terrible affair; although, in your report to me by Oneida runner, you record the action as though you yourself were a mere spectator. 

 "I note with pleasure your mention of the gallantry of your riflemen, Mount, Murphy, and Elerson, and have reported it to their company captain, Mr. Long, who will, in turn, bring it to the attention of Colonel Morgan. 

 "I also note that you have not availed yourself of the war-services of the Oneidas, for which I beg to thank you personally. 

 "I recall with genuine pleasure my visit to your uncle, Sir Lupus Varick, where I had the fortune to make your acquaintance and, I trust, your friendship. 

 "Mrs. Schuyler joins me in kindest remembrance to you, and to Sir Lupus, whose courtesy and hospitality I have to-day had the honor to acknowledge by letter. Through your good office we take advantage of this opportunity to send our love to Miss Dorothy, who has won our hearts. 

 "I am, sir, your most obedient, PHILIP SCHUYLER, Major-General. 

 "P. S. --I had almost forgotten to congratulate you on your merited advancement in military rank, for which you may thank our wise and good Governor Clinton. 

 "I shall not pretend to offer you unasked advice upon this happy occasion, though it is an old man's temptation to do so, perhaps even his prerogative. However, there are younger colonels than you, sir, in our service--ay, and brigadiers, too. So be humble, and lay not this honor with too much unction to your heart. Your friend, "PH. SCHUYLER. "

I sat for a while staring at this good man's letter, then opened thenext missive. 

 "HEADQUARTERS, DEPARTMENT OF THE NORTH, STILLWATER, August 12, 1777. 

 "Colonel George Ormond, on Scout:

 "SIR, --By order of Major-General Gates, commanding this department, you will, upon reception of this order, instantly repair to Varick Manor and report your arrival by express or a native runner to be trusted, preferably an Oneida. At nine o'clock, the day following your arrival at Varicks', you will leave on your journey to Stillwater, where you will report to General Gates for further orders. 

 "Your small experience in military matters of organization renders it most necessary that you should be aided in the formation of your regiment of rangers by a detail from Colonel Morgan's Rifles, as well as by the advice of General Gates. 

 "You will, therefore, retain the riflemen composing your scout, but attempt nothing towards enlisting your companies until you receive your instructions personally and in full from headquarters. 

 "I am, sir, "Your very obedient servant, "WILKINSON, Adjutant-General. "For Major-General Gates, commanding. "

"Why, in Heaven's name, should I lose time by journeying toheadquarters?" I said, aloud, looking up from my letter. Ah! There wasthe difference between Schuyler, who picked his man, told him what hedesired, and left him to fulfil it, and Gates, who chose a man, flunghis inexperience into his face, and bade him twirl his thumbs and sitidle until headquarters could teach him how to do what he had beenchosen to do, presumably upon his ability to do it!

A helpless sensation of paralysis came over me--a restless, confusedimpression of my possible untrustworthiness, and of unfriendliness to mein high quarters, even of a thinly veiled hostility to me. 

What a letter! That was not the way to get work out of asubordinate--this patronizing of possible energy and enthusiasm, thiscold dampening of ardor, as though ardor in itself were a reproach andzeal required reproof. 

Wondering why they had chosen me if they thought me a blundering and, perhaps, mischievous zealot, I picked up a parcel, undirected, and brokethe string. 

Out of it fell two letters. The writing was my cousin Dorothy's; and, trembling all over in spite of myself, I broke the seal of the first. Itwas undated:

 "DEAREST, --Your letter from Oriskany is before me. I am here in your room, the door locked, alone with your letter, overwhelmed with love and tenderness and fear for you. 

 "They tell me that you have been made colonel of a regiment, and the honor thrills yet saddens me--all those colonels killed at Oriskany! Is it a post of special danger, dear?

 "Oh, my brave, splendid lover! with your quiet, steady eyes and your bright hair--you angel on earth who found me a child and left me an adoring woman--can it be that in this world there is such a thing as death for you? And could the world last without you?

 * * * * *

 "Ah me! dreary me! the love that is in me! Who could believe it? Who could doubt that it is divine and not inspired by hell as I once feared; it is so beautiful, so hopelessly beautiful, like that faint thrill of splendor that passes shadowing a dream where, for an instant, we think to see a tiny corner of heaven sparkling out through a million fathoms of terrific night. .. . Did you ever dream that?

 * * * * *

 "We have been gay here. Young Mr. Van Rensselaer came from Albany to heal the breach with father. We danced and had games. He is a good young man, this patroon and patriot. Listen, dear: he permitted all his tenants to join the army of Gates, cancelled their rent-rolls during their service, and promised to provide for their families. It will take a fortune, but his deeds are better than his words. 

 "Only one thing, dear, that troubled me. I tell it to you, as I tell you everything, knowing you to be kind and pitiful. It is this: he asked father's permission to address me, not knowing I was affianced. How sad is hopeless love!

 "There was a battle at Bennington, where General Stark's men whipped the Brunswick troops and took equipments for a thousand cavalry, so that now you should see our Legion of Horse, so gay in their buff-and-blue and their new helmets and great, spurred jack-boots and bright sabres!

 "Ruyven was stark mad to join them; and what do you think? Sir Lupus consented, and General Schuyler lent his kind offices, and to-day, if you please, my brother is strutting about the yard in the uniform of a Cornet of Legion cavalry!

 "To-night the squadron leaves to chase some of McDonald's renegades out of Broadalbin. You remember Captain McDonald, the Glencoe brawler?--it's the same one, and he's done murder, they say, on the folk of Tribes Hill. I am thankful that Ruyven is in Sir George Covert's squadron. 

 "And, dear, what do you think? Walter Butler was taken, three days since, by some of Sir George Covert's riders, while visiting his mother and sister at a farm-house near Johnstown. He was taken within our lines, it seems, and in civilian's clothes; and the next day he was tried by a drum-court at Albany and condemned to death as a spy. Is it not awful? He has not yet been sentenced. It touches us, too, that an Ormond-Butler should die on the gallows. What horrors men commit! What horrors! God pity his mother!

 * * * * *

 "I am writing at a breathless pace, quill flying, sand scattered by the handful--for my feverish gossip seems to help me to endure. 

 "Time, space, distance vanish while I write; and I am with you . .. Until my letter ends. 

 "Then, quick! my budget of gossip! I said that we had been gay, and that is true, for what with the Legion camping in our quarters and General Arnold's men here for two days, and Schuyler's and Gates's officers coming and going and always remaining to dine, at least, we have danced and picnicked and played music and been frightened when McDonald's men came too near. And oh, the terrible pall that fell on our company when news came of poor Janet McCrea's murder by Indians--you did not know her, but I did, and loved her dearly in school--the dear little thing! But Burgoyne's Indians murdered her, and a fiend called The Wyandot Panther scalped her, they say--all that beautiful, silky, long hair! But Burgoyne did not hang him, Heaven only knows why, for they said Burgoyne was a gentleman and an honorable soldier!

 "Then our company forgot the tragedy, and we danced--think of it, dear! How quickly things are forgotten! Then came the terrible news from Oriskany! I was nearly dead with fright until your letter arrived. .. . So, God help us I we danced and laughed and chattered once more when Arnold's troops came. 

 "I did not quite share the admiration of the women for General Arnold. He is not finely fibred; not a man who appeals to me; though I am very sorry for the slight that the Congress has put upon him; and it is easy to see that he is a brave and dashing officer, even if a trifle coarse in the grain and inclined to be a little showy. What I liked best about him was his deep admiration and friendship for our dear General Schuyler, which does him honor, and doubly so because General Schuyler has few friends in politics, and Arnold was perfectly fearless in showing his respect and friendship for a man who could do him no favors. 

 * * * * *

 "Dear, a strange and amusing thing has happened. A few score of friendly Oneidas and lukewarm Onondagas came here to pay their respects to Magdalen Brant, who, they heard, was living at our house. 

 "Magdalen received them; she is a sweet girl and very good to her wild kin; and so father permitted them to camp in the empty house in the sugar-bush, and sent them food and tobacco and enough rum to please them without starting them war-dancing. 

 "Now listen. You have heard me tell of the Stonish Giants--those legendary men of stone whom the Iroquois, Hurons, Algonquins, and Lenape stood in such dread of two hundred years ago, and whom our historians believe to have been some lost company of Spaniards in armor, strayed northward from Cortez's army. 

 "Well, then, this is what occurred:

 "They were all at me to put on that armor which hangs in the hall--the same suit which belonged to the first Maid-at-Arms, and which she is painted in, and which I wore that last memorable night--you remember. 

 "So, to please them, I dressed in it--helmet and all--and came down. Sir George Covert's horse stood at the stockade gate, and somebody--I think it was General Arnold--dared me to ride it in my armor. 

 "Well, . .. I did. Then a mad desire for a gallop seized me--had not mounted a horse since that last ride with you--and I set spurs to the poor beast, who was already dancing under the unaccustomed burden, and away we tore. 

 "My conscience! what a ride that was! and the clang of my armor set the poor horse frantic till I could scarce govern him. 

 "Then the absurd happened. I wheeled the horse into the pasture, meaning to let him tire himself, for he was really running away with me; when, all at once, I saw a hundred terror-stricken savages rush out of the sugar-house, stand staring a second, then take to their legs with most doleful cries and hoots and piteous howls. 

 "'Oonah! The Stonish Giants have returned! Oonah! Oonah! The Giants of Stone!'

 "My vizor was down and locked. I called out to them in Delaware, but at the sound of my voice they ran the faster--five score frantic barbarians! And, dear, if they have stopped running yet I do not know it, for they never came back. 

 "But the most absurd part of it all is that the Onondagas, who are none too friendly with us, though they pretend to be, have told the Cayugas that the Stonish Giants have returned to earth from Biskoona, which is hell. And I doubt not that the dreadful news will spread all through the Six Nations, with, perhaps, some astonishing results to us. For scouts have already come in, reporting trouble between General Burgoyne and his Wyandots, who declare they have had enough of the war and did not enlist to fight the Stonish Giants--which excuse is doubtless meaningless to him. 

 "And other scouts from the northwest say that St. Leger can scarce hold the Senecas to the siege of Stanwix because of their great loss at Oriskany, which they are inclined to attribute to spells cast by their enemies, who enjoy the protection of the Stonish Giants. 

 "Is it not all mad enough for a child's dream?

 "Ay, life and love are dreams, dear, and a mad world spins them out of nothing. .. . Forgive me . .. I have been sewing on my wedding-gown again. And it is nigh finished. 

 "Good-night. I love you. D. "

Blindly I groped for the remaining letter and tore the seal. 

 "Sir George has just had news of you from an Oneida who says you may be here at any moment! And I, O God I terrified at my own mad happiness, fearing myself in that meeting, begged him to wed me on the morrow. I was insane, I think, crazed with fear, knowing that, were I not forever beyond you, I must give myself to you and abide in hell for all eternity!

 "And he was astonished, I think, but kind, as he always is; and now the dreadful knowledge has come to me that for me there is no refuge, no safety in marriage which I, poor fool, fled to for sanctuary lest I do murder on my own soul!

 "What shall I do? What can I do? I have given my word to wed him on the morrow. If it be mortal sin to show ingratitude to a father and deceive a lover, what would it be to deceive a husband and disgrace a father?

 "And I, silly innocent, never dreamed but that temptation ceased within the holy bonds of wedlock--though sadness might endure forever. 

 "And now I know! In the imminent and instant presence of my marriage I know that I shall love you none the less, shall tempt and be tempted none the less. And, in this resistless, eternal love, I may fall, dragging you down with me to our endless punishment. 

 "It was not the fear of punishment that kept me true to my vows before; it was something within me, I don't know what. 

 "But, if I were wedded with him, it would be fear of punishment alone that could save me--not terror of flames; I could endure them with you, but the new knowledge that has come to me that my punishment would be the one thing I could not endure--eternity without you!

 "Neither in heaven nor in hell may I have you. Is there no way, my beloved? Is there no place for us?

 * * * * *

 "I have been to the porch to tell Sir George that I must postpone the wedding. I did not tell him. He was standing with Magdalen Brant, and she was crying. I did not know she had received bad news. She said the news was bad. Perhaps Sir George can help her. 

 "I will tell him later that the wedding must be postponed. .. . I don't know why, either. I cannot think. I can scarcely see to write. Oh, help me once more, my darling! Do not come to Varicks'! That is all I desire on earth! For we must never, never, see each other again!"

 * * * * *

Stunned, I reeled to my feet and stumbled out into the moonlight, staring across the misty wilderness into the east, where, beyond theforests, somewhere, she lay, perhaps a bride. 

A deathly chill struck through and through me. To a free man, with oneshred of pity, honor, unselfish love, that appeal must be answered. Andhe were the basest man in all the world who should ignore it and showhis face at Varick Manor--were he free to choose. 

But I was not free; I was a military servant, pledged under solemn oathand before God to obedience--instant, unquestioning, unfalteringobedience. 

And in my trembling hand I held my written orders to report at VarickManor. 

XX

COCK-CROW

At dawn we left the road and struck the Oneida trail north of the river, following it swiftly, bearing a little north of east until, towardsnoon, we came into the wagon-road which runs over the Mayfield hills anddown through the outlying bush farms of Mayfield and Kingsborough. 

Many of the houses were deserted, but not all; here and there smokecurled from the chimney of some lonely farm; and across the stumppasture we could see a woman laboring in the sun-scorched fields and aman, rifle in hand, standing guard on a vantage-point whichoverlooked his land. 

Fences and gates became more frequent, crossing the rough road everymile or two, so that we were constantly letting down and replacingcattle-bars, unpinning rude gates, or climbing over snake fences ofsplit rails. 

Once we came to a cross-roads where the fence had been demolished and awarning painted on a rough pine board above a wayside watering-trough. 

 "WARNING!

 All farmers and townsfolk are hereby requested and ordered to remove gates, stiles, cow-bars, and fences, which includes all obstructions to the public highway, in order that the cavalry may pass without difficulty. Any person found felling trees across this road, or otherwise impeding the operations of cavalry by building brush, stump, rail, or stone fences across this road, will be arrested and tried before a court on charge of aiding and giving comfort to the enemy. G. COVERT, "Captain Commanding Legion. "

Either this order did not apply to the cross-road which we now filedinto, or the owners of adjacent lands paid no heed to it; for presently, a few rods ahead of us, we saw a snake fence barring the road and a manwith a pack on his back in the act of climbing over it. 

He was going in the same direction that we were, and seemed to be afur-trader laden with packets of peltry. 

I said this to Murphy, who laughed and looked at Mount. 

"Who carries pelts to Quebec in August?" asked Elerson, grinning. 

"There's the skin of a wolverine dangling from his pack, " I said, in alow voice. 

Murphy touched Mount's arm, and they halted until the man ahead hadrounded a turn in the road; then they sprang forward, creeping swiftlyto the shelter of the undergrowth at the bend of the road, while Elersonand I followed at an easy pace. 

"What is it?" I asked, as we rejoined them where they were kneeling, looking after the figure ahead. 

"Nothing, sir; we only want to see them pelts, Tim and me. "

"Do you know the man?" I demanded. 

Murphy gazed musingly at Mount through narrowed eyes. Mount, in a brownstudy, stared back. 

"Phwere th' divil have I seen him, I dunnoa!" muttered Murphy. "Jack, 'tis wan mush-rat looks like th' next, an' all thrappers has the samecut to them! Yonder's no thrapper!"

"Nor peddler, " added Mount; "the strap of the Delaware baskets neverbowed his legs. "

"Thrue, avick! Wisha, lad, 'tis horses he knows better than snow-shoes, bed-plates, an' thrip-sticks! An' I've seen him, I think!"

"Where?" I asked. 

He shook his head, vacantly staring. Moved by the same impulse, we allstarted forward; the man was not far ahead, but our moccasins made nonoise in the dust and we closed up swiftly on him and were at his elbowbefore he heard us. 

Under the heavy sunburn the color faded in his cheeks when he saw us. Inoted it, but that was nothing strange considering the perilousconditions of the country and the sudden shock of our appearance. 

"Good-day, friend, " cried Mount, cheerily. 

"Good-day, friends, " he replied, stammering as though for lack ofbreath. 

"God save our country, friend, " added Elerson, gravely. 

"God save our country, friends, " repeated the man. 

So far, so good. The man, a thick, stocky, heavy-eyed fellow, moistenedhis broad lips with his tongue, peered furtively at me, and instantlydropped his eyes. At the same instant memory stirred within me; a vaguerecollection of those heavy, black eyes, of that broad, bow-leggedfigure set me pondering. 

"Me fri'nd, " purred Murphy, persuasively, "is th' Frinch thrappersbalin' August peltry f'r to sell in Canady?"

"I've a few late pelts from the lakes, " muttered the man, withoutlooking up. 

"Domned late, " cried Murphy, gayly. "Sure they do say, if ye dhraw asummer mink an' turrn th' pelt inside out like a glove, the winther furwill sprout inside--wid fashtin' an' prayer. "

The man bent his eyes obstinately on the ground; instead of smiling hehad paled. 

"Have you the skin of a wampum bird in that bale?" asked Mount, pleasantly. 

Elerson struck the pack with the flat of his hand; the mangy wolverinepelt crackled. 

"Green hides! Green hides!" laughed Mount, sarcastically. "Come, myfriend, we're your customers. Down with your bales and I'll buy. "

Murphy had laid a heavy hand on the man's shoulder, halting him short inhis tracks; Elerson, rifle cradled in the hollow of his left arm, pokedhis forefinger into the bales, then sniffed at the aperture. 

"There are green hides there!" he exclaimed, stepping back. "Jack, slipthat pack off!"

The man started forward, crying out that he had no time to waste, butMurphy jerked him back by the collar and Elerson seized his right arm. 

"Wait!" I said, sharply. "You cannot stop a man like this on thehighway!"

"You don't know us, sir, " replied Mount, impudently. 

"Come, Colonel Ormond, " added Elerson, almost savagely. "You're ourcaptain no longer. Give way, sir. Answer for your own men, and we'llanswer to Danny Morgan!"

Mount, struggling to unfasten the pack, looked over his huge shouldersat me. 

"Not that we're not fond of you, sir; but we know this old fox now--"

"You lie!" shrieked the man, hurling his full weight at Murphy andtearing his right arm free from Elerson's grip. 

There came a flash, an explosion; through a cloud of smoke I saw thefellow's right arm stretched straight up in the air, his hand clutchinga smoking pistol, and Elerson holding the arm rigid in a grip of steel. 

[Illustration: "INSTANTLY MOUNT TRIPPED THE MAN". ]

Instantly Mount tripped the man flat on his face in the dust, and Murphyjerked his arms behind his back, tying them fast at the wrists with acord which Elerson cut from the pack and flung to him. 

"Rip up thim bales, Jack!" said Murphy. "Yell find them full o' powtheran' ball an' cutlery, sorr, or I'm a liar!" he added to me. "This limbo' Lucifer is wan o' Francy McCraw's renegados!--Danny Redstock, sorr, th' tirror av the Sacandaga!"

Redstock! I had seen him at Broadalbin that evening in May, threateningthe angry settlers with his rifle, when Dorothy and the Brandt-Meesterand I had ridden over with news of smoke in the hills. 

Murphy tied the prostrate man's legs, pulled him across the dusty roadto the bushes, and laid him on his back under a great maple-tree. 

Mount, knife in hand, ripped up the bales of crackling peltry, andElerson delved in among the skins, flinging them right and left in hisimpatient search. 

"There's no powder here, " he exclaimed, rising to his knees on the roadand staring at Mount; "nothing but badly cured beaver and mangymusk-rat. "

"Well, he baled 'em to conceal something!" insisted Mount. "No man packsin this moth-eaten stuff for love of labor. What's that parcel inthe bottom?"

"Not powder, " replied Elerson, tossing it out, where it rebounded, crackling. 

"Squirrel pelts, " nodded Mount, as I picked up the packet and looked atthe sealed cords. The parcel was addressed: "General Barry St. Leger, incamp before Stanwix. " I sat down on the grass and began to open it, whena groan from the prostrate prisoner startled me. He had struggled to asitting posture, and was facing me, eyes bulging from their sockets. Every vestige of color had left his visage. 

"For God's sake don't open that!" he gasped--"there is naught there, sir--"

"Silence!" roared Mount, glaring at him, while Murphy and Elerson, dropping their armfuls of pelts, came across the road to the bankwhere I sat. 

"I will not be silent!" screamed the man, rocking to and fro on theground. "I did not do that!--I know nothing of what that packet holds! AMohawk runner gave it to me--I mean that I found it on the trail--"

The riflemen stared at him in contempt while I cut the strings of theparcel and unrolled the bolt of heavy miller's cloth. 

At first I did not comprehend what all that mass of fluffy hair couldbe. A deep gasp from Mount enlightened me, and I dropped the packet in arevulsion of horror indescribable. For the parcel was fairly burstingwith tightly packed scalps. 

In the deathly silence I heard Redstock's hoarse breathing. Mount kneltdown and gently lifted a heavy mass of dark, silky hair. 

At last Elerson broke the silence, speaking in a strangely gentle andmonotonous voice. 

"I think this hair was Janet McCrea's. I saw her many times atHalf-moon. No maid in Tryon County had hair like hers. "

Shuddering, Mount lifted a long braid of dark-brown hair fastened to ahoop painted blue. And Elerson, in that strange monotone, continued speaking:

"The hair on this scalp is braided to show that the woman was a mother;the skin stretched on a blue hoop confirms it. 

"The murderer has painted the skin yellow with red dots to representtears shed for the dead by her family. There is a death-maul paintedbelow in black; it shows how she was killed. "

He laid the scalp back very carefully. Under the mass of hair a bit ofpaper stuck out, and I drew it from the dreadful packet. It was a sealedletter directed to General St. Leger, and I opened and read the contentsaloud in the midst of a terrible silence. 

 "SACANDAGA VLAIE, August 17, 1777

 "General Barry St. Leger

 "SIR, --I send you under care of Daniel Redstock the first packet of scalps, cured, dried, hooped, and painted; four dozen in all, at twenty dollars a dozen, which will be eighty dollars. This you will please pay to Daniel Redstock, as I need money for tobacco and rum for the men and the Senecas who are with me. 

 "Return invoice with payment acquitted by the bearer, who will know where to find me. Below I have prepared a true invoice. Your very humble servant, "F. MCCRAW. 

"Invoice. 

(6) Six scalps of farmers, green hoops to show they were killed in their fields; a large white circle for the sun, showing it was day; black bullet mark on three; hatchet on two. 

(2) Two of settlers, surprised and killed in their houses or barns; hoops red; white circle for the sun; a little red foot to show they died fighting. Both marked with bullet symbol. 

(4) Four of settlers. Two marked by little yellow flames to show how they died. (My Senecas have had no prisoners for burning since August third. ) One a rebel clergyman, his band tied to the scalp-hoop, and a little red foot under a red cross painted on the skin. (He killed two of my men before we got him. ) One, a poor scalp, the hair gray and thin; the hoop painted brown. (An old man whom we found in bed in a rebel house. )

(12) Twelve of militia soldiers; stretched on black hoops four inches in diameter, inside skin painted red; a black circle showing they were outposts surprised at night; hatchet as usual. 

(12) Twelve of women; one unbraided--a very fine scalp (bought of a Wyandot from Burgoyne's army), which I paid full price for; nine braided, hoops blue, red tear-marks; two very gray; black hoops, plain brown color inside; death-maul marked in red. 

(6) Six of boys' scalps; small green hoops; red tears; symbols in black of castete, knife, and bullet. 

(5) Five of girls' scalps; small yellow hoops. Marked with the Seneca symbol to whom they were delivered before scalping. 

(l) One box of birch-bark containing an infant's scalp; very little hair, but well dried and cured. (I must ask full price for this. )

48 scalps assorted, @ 20 dollars a dozen. .. .. .. .. .. .. . 80 dollars. 

"Received payment, F. McCRAW. "

The ghastly face of the prisoner turned livid, and he shrieked as Mountcaught him by the collar and dragged him to his feet. 

"Jack, " I said, hoarsely, "the law sends that man before a court. "

"Court be damned!" growled Mount, as Elerson uncoiled the pack-rope, flung one end over a maple limb above, and tied a running noose on theother end. 

Murphy crowded past me to seize the prisoner, but I caught him by thearm and pushed him aside. 

"Men!" I said, angrily; "I don't care whose command you are under. I'man officer, and you'll listen to me and obey me with respect. Murphy!"

The Irishman gave me a savage stare. 

"By God!" I cried, cocking my rifle, "if one of you dares disobey, I'llshoot him where he stands! Murphy! Stand aside! Mount, bring thatprisoner here!"

There was a pause; then Murphy touched his cap and stepped back quietly, nodding to Mount, who shuffled forward, pushing the prisoner and dartinga venomous glance at me. 

"Redstock, " I said, "where is McCraw?"

A torrent of filthy abuse poured out of the prisoner's writhing mouth. He cursed us, threatening us with a terrible revenge from McCraw if weharmed a hair of his head. 

Astonished, I saw that he had mistaken my attitude for one of fear. Istrove to question him, but he insolently refused all information. Mymen ground their teeth with impatience, and I saw that I could controlthem no longer. 

So I gave what color I could to the lawless act of justice, partly tosave my waning authority, partly to save them the consequences ofexecuting a prisoner who might give valuable information to theauthorities in Albany. 

I ordered Elerson to hold the prisoner and adjust the noose; Murphy andMount to the rope's end. Then I said: "Prisoner, this field-court findsyou guilty of murder and orders your execution. Have you anything to saybefore sentence is carried out?"

The wretch did not believe we were in earnest. I nodded to Elerson, whodrew the noose tight; the prisoner's knees gave way, and he screamed;but Mount and Murphy jerked him up, and the rope strangled the screechin his throat. 

Sickened, I bent my head, striving to count the seconds as he hungtwisting and quivering under the maple limb. 

Would he never die? Would those spasms never end?

"Shtep back, sorr, if ye plaze, sorr, " said Murphy, gently. "Sure, sorr, ye're as white as a sheet. Walk away quiet-like; ye're not used to suchthings, sorr. "

I was not, indeed; I had never seen a man done to death in cold blood. Yet I fought off the sickening faintness that clutched at my heart; andat last the dangling thing hung limp and relaxed, turning slowly roundand round in mid-air. 

Mount nodded to Murphy and fell to digging with a sharpened stick. Elerson quietly lighted his pipe and aided him, while Murphy shaved offa white square of bark on the maple-tree under the slow-turning body, and I wrote with the juice of an elderberry:

"Daniel Redstock, a child murderer, executed by American Riflemen forhis crimes, under order of George Ormond, Colonel of Rangers, August 19, 1777. Renegades and Outlaws take warning!"

When Mount and Elerson had finished the shallow grave, they laid thescalps of the murdered in the hole, stamped down the earth, and coveredit with sticks and branches lest a prowling outlaw or Seneca disinterthe remains and reap a ghastly reward for their redemption from Generalthe Hon. Barry St. Leger, Commander of the British, Hessians, LoyalColonials, and Indians, in camp before Fort Stanwix. 

As we left that dreadful spot, and before I could interfere to preventthem, the three riflemen emptied their pieces into the swingingcorpse--a useless, foolish, and savage performance, and I saidso sharply. 

They were very docile and contrite and obedient now, explaining that itwas a customary safeguard, as hanged men had been revived more thanonce--a flimsy excuse, indeed!

"Very well, " I said; "your shots may draw McCraw's whole force down onus. But doubtless you know much more than your officers--like themilitia at Oriskany. "

The reproof struck home; Mount muttered his apology; Murphy offered tocarry my rifle if I was fatigued. 

"It was thoughtless, I admit that, " said Elerson, looking backward, uneasily. "But we're close to the patroon's boundary. "

"We're within bounds now, " said Mount. "Fonda's Bush lies over there tothe southeast, and the Vlaie is yonder below the mountain-notch. Thiswagon-track runs into the Fish-House road. "

"How far are we from the manor?" I asked. 

"About two miles and a half, sir, " replied Mount. "Doubtless some of SirGeorge Covert's horsemen heard our shots, and we'll meet 'em canteringout to investigate. "

I had not imagined we were as near as that. A painful thrill passedthrough me; my heart leaped, beating feverishly in my breast. 

Minute after minute dragged as we filed swiftly onward, mechanicallytreading in each other's tracks. I strove to consider, to think, topicture the sad, strange home-coming--to see her as she would stand, stunned, astounded that I had ignored her appeal to help her bymy absence. 

I could not think; my thoughts were chaos; my brain throbbed heavily; Ifixed my hot eyes on the road and strode onward, numbed, seeing, hearing nothing. 

And, of a sudden, a shout rang out ahead; horsemen in line across theroad, rifles on thigh, moved forward towards us; an officer reversed hissword, drove it whizzing into the scabbard, and spurred forward, followed by a trooper, helmet flashing in the sun. 

"Ormond!" cried the officer, flinging himself from his horse and holdingout both white-gloved hands. 

"Sir George, . .. I am glad to see you. .. . I am very--happy, " Istammered, taking his hands. 

"Cousin Ormond!" came a timid voice behind me. 

I turned; Ruyven, in full uniform of a cornet, flung himself into myarms. 

I could scarce see him for the mist in my eyes; I pressed the boy closeto my breast and kissed him on both cheeks. 

Utterly unable to speak, I sat down on a log, holding Sir George'sgloved hand, my arm on Ruyven's laced shoulder. An immense fatigue cameover me; I had not before realized the pace we had kept up for these twomonths nor the strain I had been under. 

"Singleton!" called out Sir George, "take the men to the barracks; takemy horse, too--I'll walk back. And, Singleton, just have your men takethese fine fellows up behind"--with a gesture towards the riflemen. "Andsee that they lack for nothing in quarters!"

Grinning sheepishly, the riflemen climbed up behind the troopersassigned them; the troop cantered off, and Sir George pointed toRuyven's horse, indicating that it was for me when I was rested. 

"We heard shots, " he said; "I mistrusted it might be a salute from you, but came ready for anything, you see--Lord! How thin you'vegrown, Ormond!"

"I'm cornet, cousin!" burst out Ruyven, hugging me again in hisexcitement. "I charged with the squadron when we scattered McDonald'soutlaws! A man let drive at me--"

"Oh, come, come, " laughed Sir George, "Colonel Ormond has had morebullets driven at him than our Legion pouches in their bullet-bags!"

"A man let drive at me!" breathed Ruyven, in rapture. "I was not hit, cousin! A man let drive at me, and I heard the bullet!"

"Nonsense!" said Sir George, mischievously; "you heard a bumble-bee!"

"He always says that, " retorted Ruyven, looking at me. "I know it was abullet, for it went zo-o-zip-tsing-g! right past my ear; and SergeantWest shouted, 'Cut him down, sir!' . .. But another trooper did that. However, I rode like the devil!"

"Which way?" inquired Sir George, in pretended anxiety. And we alllaughed. 

"It's good to see you back all safe and sound, " said Sir George, warmly. "Sir Lupus will be delighted and the children half crazed. You shouldhear them talk of their hero!"

"Dorothy will be glad, too, " said Ruyven. "You'll be in time for thewedding. "

I strove to smile, facing Sir George with an effort. His face, in thefull sunlight, seemed haggard and careworn, and the light had died outin his eyes. 

"For the wedding, " he repeated. "We are to be wedded to-morrow. You didnot know that, did you?"

"Yes; I did know it. Dorothy wrote me, " I said. A numbed feeling creptover me; I scarce heard the words I uttered when I wished him happiness. He held my proffered hand a second, then dropped it listlessly, thanking me for my good wishes in a low voice. 

There was a vague, troubled expression in his eyes, a strange lack offeeling. The thought came to me like a stab that perhaps he had learnedthat the woman he was to wed did not love him. 

"Did Dorothy expect me?" I asked, miserably. 

"I think not, " said Sir George. 

"She believed you meant to follow Arnold to Stanwix, " broke in Ruyven. "I should have done it! I regard General Arnold as the most magnificentsoldier of the age!" he added. 

"I was ordered to Varick Manor, " I said, looking at Sir George. "Otherwise I might have followed Arnold. As it is I cannot stay for thewedding; I must report at Stillwater, leaving by nine o'clock inthe morning. "

"Lord, Ormond, what a fire-eater you have become!" he said, smiling fromhis abstraction. "Are you ready to mount Ruyven's nag and come home to agood bed and a glass of something neat?"

"Let Ruyven ride, " I said; "I need the walk, Sir George. "

"Need the walk!" he exclaimed. "Have you not had walks enough?--and yourmoccasins and buckskins in rags!"

But I could not endure to ride; a nerve-racking restlessness was on me, a desire for movement, for utter exhaustion, so that I could no longerhave even strength to think. 

Ruyven, protesting, climbed into his dragoon-saddle; Sir George walkedbeside him and I with Sir George. 

Long, soft August lights lay across the leafy road; the blackberrieswere in heavy fruit; scarlet thimble-berries, over-ripe, dropped fromtheir pithy cones as we brushed the sprays with our sleeves. 

Sir George was saying: "No, we have nothing more to fear fromMcDonald's gang, but a scout came in, three days since, bringing word ofMcCraw's outlaws who have appeared in the west--"

He stopped abruptly, listening to a sound that I also heard; the suddendrumming of unshod hoofs on the road behind us. 

"What the devil--" he began, then cocked his rifle; I threw up mine; ashrill cock-crow rang out above the noise of tramping horses; agalloping mass of horsemen burst into view behind us, coming like anavalanche. 

"McCraw!" shouted Sir George. Ruyven fired from his saddle; Sir George'srifle and mine exploded together; a horse and rider went down with acrash, but the others came straight on, and the cock-crow rang outtriumphantly above the roar of the rushing horses. 

"Ruyven!" I shouted, "ride for your life!"

"I won't!" he cried, furiously; but I seized his bridle, swung hisfrightened horse, and struck the animal across the buttocks with clubbedrifle. Away tore the maddened beast, almost unseating his rider, wholost both stirrups at the first frantic bound and clung helplessly tohis saddle-pommel while the horse carried him away like the wind. 

Then I sprang into the ozier thicket, Sir George at my side, and ran alittle way; but they caught us, even before we reached the timber, andthrew us to the ground, tying us up like basted capons with straps fromtheir saddles. Maltreated, struck, kicked, mauled, and dragged out tothe road, I looked for instant death; but a lank creature flung meacross his saddle, face downward, and, in a second, the whole band hadmounted, wheeled about, and were galloping westward, ventre à terre. 

Almost dead from the saddle-pommel which knocked the breath from mybody, suffocated and strangled with dust, I hung dangling there in astorm of flying sticks and pebbles. Twice consciousness fled, only toreturn with the blood pounding in my ears. A third time my senses leftme, and when they returned I lay in a cleared space in the woods besideSir George, the sun shining full in my face, flung on the ground near afire, over which a kettle was boiling. And on every side of us movedMcCraw's riders, feeding their horses, smoking, laughing, playing atcards, or coming up to sniff the camp-kettle and poke the boiling meatwith pointed sticks. 

Behind them, squatted in rows, sat two dozen Indians, watching us inferocious silence. 

XXI

THE CRISIS

For a while I lay there stupefied, limp-limbed, lifeless, closing myaching eyes under the glittering red rays of the westering sun. 

My parched throat throbbed and throbbed; I could scarcely stir, even toclose my swollen hands where they had tied my wrists, although somebodyhad cut the cords that bound me. 

"Sir George, " I said, in a low voice. 

"Yes, I am here, " he replied, instantly. 

"Are you hurt?"

"No, Ormond. Are you?"

"No; very tired; that is all. "

I rolled over; my head reeled and I held it in my benumbed hands, looking at Sir George, who lay on his side, cheek pillowed on his arms. 

"This is a miserable end of it all, " he said, with calm bitterness. "Butthat it involves you, I should not dare blame fortune for the fool Iacted. I have my deserts; but it's cruel for you. "

The sickening whirling in my head became unendurable. I lay down, facinghim, eyes closed. 

"It was not your fault, " I said, dully. 

"There is no profit in discussing that, " he muttered. "They took usalive instead of scalping us; while there's life there's hope, . .. Alittle hope. .. . But I'd sooner they'd finish me here than rot in theirstinking prison-ships. .. . Ormond, are you awake?"

"Yes, Sir George. "

"If they--if the Indians get us, and--and begin their--you know--"

"Yes; I know. "

"If they begin . .. That . .. Insult them, taunt them, sneer at them, laugh at them!--yes, laugh at them! Do anything to enrage them, sothey'll--they'll finish quickly. .. . Do you understand?"

"Yes, " I muttered; and my voice sounded miles away. 

He lay brooding for a while; when I opened my eyes he broke outfretfully: "How was I to dream that McCraw could be so near!--that hedared raid us within a mile of the house! Oh, I could die of shame, Ormond! die of shame!. .. But I won't die that way; oh no, " he added, with a frightful smile that left his face distorted and white. 

He raised himself on one elbow. 

"Ormond, " he said, staring at vacancy, "what trivial matters a manthinks of in the shadow of death. I can't consider it; I can't bereconciled to it; I can't even pray. One absurd idea possesses me--thatSingleton will have the Legion now; and he's a slack drill-master--heis, indeed!. .. I've a million things to think of--an idle life toconsider, a misspent career to repent, but the time is too short, Ormond. .. . Perhaps all that will come at the instant of--of--"

"Death, " I said, wearily. 

"Yes, yes; that's it, death. I'm no coward; I'm calm enough--but I'mstunned. I can't think for the suddenness of it!. .. And you just home;and Ruyven there, snuggled close to you as a house-cat--and then thatsound of galloping, like a fly-stung herd of cattle in a pasture!"

"I think Ruyven is safe, " I said, closing my eyes. 

"Yes, he's safe. Nobody chased him; they'll know at the manor by thistime; they knew long ago. .. . My men will be out. .. . Where arewe, Ormond?"

"I don't know, " I murmured, drowsily. The months of fatigue, theunbroken strain, the feverish weeks spent in endless trails, theconstant craving for movement to occupy my thoughts, the sleeplessnights which were the more unendurable because physical exhaustion couldnot give me peace or rest, now told on me. I drowsed in the verypresence of death; and the stupor settled heavily, bringing, for thefirst time since I left Varick Manor, rest and immunity from despair oreven desire. 

I cared for nothing: hope of her was dead; hope of life might die and Iwas acquiescent, contented, glad of the end. I had endured too much. 

My sleep--or unconsciousness--could not have lasted long; the sun wasnot yet level with my eyes when I roused to find Sir George tugging atmy sleeve and a man in a soiled and tarnished scarlet uniformstanding over me. 

But that brief respite from the strain had revived me; a bucket of coldwater stood near the fire, and I thrust my burning face into it, drinking my fill, while the renegade in scarlet bawled at me and fumedand cursed, demanding my attention to what he was saying. 

"You damned impudent rebel!" he yelled; "am I to stand around hereawaiting your pleasure while you swill your skin full?"

I wiped my lips with my torn hands, and got to my feet painfully, atrifle dizzy for a moment, but perfectly able to stand and tocomprehend. 

"I'm asking you, " he snarled, "why we can't send a flag to your peoplewithout their firing on it?"

"I don't know what you mean, " I said. 

"I do, " said Sir George, blandly. 

"Oh, you do, eh?" growled the renegade, turning on him with a scowl. "Then tell me why our flag of truce is not respected, if you can. "

"Nobody respects a flag from outlaws, " said Sir George, coolly. 

The fellow's face hardened and his eyes blazed. He started to speak, then shut his mouth with a snap, turned on his heel, and strode acrossthe treeless glade to where his noisy riders were saddling up, tightening girths, buckling straps, and examining the unshod feet oftheir horses or smoothing out the burrs from mane and tail. The red sunglittered on their spurs, rifles, and the flat buckles of theircross-belts. Their uniform was scarlet and green, but some wore beadedshirts of scarlet holland, belted in with Mohawk wampum, and some werepartly clothed like Cayuga Indians and painted with Senecawar-symbols--a grewsome sight. 

There were savages moving about the fire--or I took them for savages, until one half-naked lout, lounging near, taunted me with a Scotch burrin his throat, and I saw, in his horribly painted face, a pair offlashing eyes fixed on me. And the eyes were blue. 

There was something in that ghastly masquerade so horrible, sounspeakably revolting, that a shiver of pure fear touched me in everynerve. Except for the voice and the eyes, he looked the counterpart ofthe Senecas moving about near us; his skin, bare to the waist, wasstained a reddish copper hue; his black hair was shaved except for theknot; war-paint smeared visage and chest, and two crimson quills rosefrom behind his left ear, tied to the scalp-lock. 

"Let him alone; don't answer him; he's worse than the Indians, "whispered Sir George. 

Among the savages I saw two others with light eyes, and a third I nevershould have suspected had not Sir George pointed out his feet, whichwere planted on the ground like the feet of a white man when he walked, and not parallel or toed-in. 

But now the loud-voiced riders were climbing into their saddles; theofficer in scarlet, who had cursed and questioned us, came towards usleading a horse. 

"You treacherous whelps!" he said, fiercely; "if a flag can't go to yousafely, we must send one of you with it. By Heaven! you're both fit forroasting, and it sickens me to send you! But one of you goes and theother stays. Now fight it out--and be quick!"

An amazed silence followed; then Sir George asked why one of us was tobe liberated and the other kept prisoner. 

"Because your sneaking rebel friends fire on the white flag, I tellyou!" cried the fellow, furiously; "and we've got to get a message tothem. You are Captain Sir George Covert, are you not? Very good. Yourrebel friends have taken Captain Walter Butler and mean to hang him. Nowyou tell your people that we've got Colonel Ormond and we'll exchangeyou both, a colonel and a captain, for Walter Butler. Do you understand?That's what we value you at; a rebel colonel and a rebel captain for asingle loyal captain. "

Sir George turned to me. "There is not the faintest chance of anexchange, " he said, in French. 

"Stop that!" threatened the man in scarlet, laying his hand on hishanger. "Speak English or Delaware, do you hear?"

"Sir George, " I said, "you will go, of course. I shall remain and takethe chance of exchange. "

"Pardon, " he said, coolly; "I remain here and pay the piper for the tuneI danced to. You will relieve me of my obligations by going, " headded, stiffly. 

"No, " I said; "I tell you I don't care. Can't you understand that a manmay not care?"

"I understand, " he replied, staring at me; "and I am that man, Ormond. Come, get into your saddle. Good-bye. It is all right; it is perfectlyjust, and--it doesn't matter. "

A shrill voice broke out across the cleared circle. "Billy Bones! BillyBones! Hae ye no flints f'r the lads that ride? Losh, mon, we'll no beganging north the day, an' ye bide droolin' there wi' the blitherin'Jacobites!"

"The flints are in McBarron's wagon! Wait, wait, Francy McCraw!" And hehurried away, bawling for the teamster McBarron. 

"Sir George, " I said, "take the chance, in Heaven's name, for I shallnot go. Don't dispute; don't stand there! Man, man, don't delay, I tellyou, or they'll change their plan!"

"I won't go, " he said, sharply. "Ormond, am I a contemptible poltroonthat I should leave you here to endure the consequences of my ownnegligence? Do you think I could accept life at that price?"

"I tell you to go!" I said, harshly. A horrid hope, a terrible andunworthy temptation, had seized me like a thing from hell. I trembled;sweat broke out on me, and I set my teeth, striving to think as thewoman I had lost would have had me think. "Quick!" I muttered, "don'twait, don't delay; don't talk to me, I tell you! Go! Go! Get out ofmy sight--"

And all the time, pounding in my brain, the pulse beat out a shamefulthought; and mad temptations swarmed, whispering close to my ringingears that his death was my only chance, my only possiblesalvation--and hers!

"Go!" I stammered, pushing him towards the horse; "get into your saddle!Quick, I tell you--I--I can't endure this! I am not made to endureeverything, I tell you! Can't you have a little mercy on me andleave me?"

"I refuse, " he said, sullenly. 

"You refuse!" I stammered, beside myself with the torture I could nolonger bear. "Then stand aside! I'll go--I'll go if it costs me--No! No!I can't; I can't, I tell you; it costs too much!. .. Damn you, you mayhave the woman I love, but you shall leave me her respect!"

"Ormond! Ormond!" he cried, in sorrowful amazement; but I was clean outof my head now, and I closed with him, dragging him towards the horse. 

He shook himself free, glaring at me. 

"I am . .. Your superior . .. Officer!" I panted, advancing on him; "Iorder you to go!"

He looked me narrowly in the eyes. "And I refuse obedience, " he said, hoarsely. "You are out of your mind!"

"Then, by God!" I shrieked, "I'll force you!"

Billy Bones, Francy McCraw, and a Seneca came hastening up. I leaped onMcCraw and dealt him a blow full in his bony face, splitting the leancheek open. 

They overpowered me before I could repeat the blow; they flung me down, kicking and pounding me as I lay there, but the death-stroke I awaitedwas withheld; the castete of the Seneca was jerked from his fist. 

Then they seized Sir George and forced him into his saddle, calling onfour troopers to pilot him within sight of the manor and shoot him if heattempted to return. 

"You tell them that if they refuse to exchange Walter Butler for Ormond, we've torments for Colonel Ormond that won't kill him under a week!"roared Billy Bones. 

McCraw, stupefied with amazement and rage, stood mopping the blood fromhis blotched face, staring at me out of his crazy blue eyes. For amoment his hand fiddled with his hatchet, then Bones shoved him away, and he strode off towards his horsemen, who were forming in columnof fours. 

"You tell 'em, " shouted Bones, "that before we finish him they'll hearhis screams in Albany! If they want Colonel Ormond, " he added, his voicerising to a yell, "tell 'em to send a single man into the sugar-bush. But if they hang Walter Butler, or if you try to catch us with yourcavalry, we'll take Ormond where we'll have leisure to see what ourSenecas can do with him! Now ride! you damned--"

He struck Sir George's horse with the flat of his hanger; the horsebounded off, followed by four of McCraw's riders, pistols cocked andhatchets loosened. 

Bruised, dazed, exhausted, I lay there, listening to the recedingthudding of their horses' feet on the moss. 

The crisis was over, and I had won--not as I might have chosen to win, but by a compromise with death for deliverance from temptation. 

If it was the compromise of a crazed creature, insane from mental andphysical exhaustion, it was not the compromise of a weak man; I did notdesire death as long as she lived. I dreaded to leave her alone in theworld. But, though she loved him not--and did love me--I could notaccept the future through his sacrifice and live to remember that he hadlaid down his life for a friend who desired from him more than he hadrenounced. 

I was perfectly sane now; a strange calmness came over me; my mind wasclear and composed; my meditations serene. Free at last from hope, fromsorrowful passion, from troubled desire, I lay there thinking, watchingthe long, red sun-rays slanting through the woods. 

Gratitude to God for a life ended ere I fell from His grace, eretemptation entangled me beyond deliverance; humble pride in thehonorable traditions that I had received and followed untainted; deep, reverent thankfulness for the strength vouchsafed me in this supremecrisis of my life--the strength of a madman, perhaps, but still strengthto be true, the power to renounce--these were the meditations thatbrought me rest and a quietude I had never known when death seemed along way off and life on earth eternal. 

The setting sun crimsoned the pines; the riders were gathered along thehill-side, bending far out in their saddles to scan the valley below. McCraw, his white face bound with a bloody rag, drew his straightclaymore and wound the tattered tartan around his wrist, motioning BillyBones to ride on. 

"March!" he cried, in his shrill voice, laying his claymore level; andthe long files moved off, spurs and scabbards clanking, horses crowdingand trampling in, faster and faster, till a far command set themtrotting, then galloping away into the west, where the kindling skyreddened the world. 

The world!--it would be the same to-morrow without me: that maple-treewould not have changed a leaf; that tiny, hovering, gauze-wingedcreature, drifting through the calm air, would be alive when I was dead. 

It was difficult to understand. I repeated it to myself again and again, but the phrases had no meaning to me. 

The sun set; cool, violet lights lay over the earth; a thrush, awakenedby the sweetness of the twilight from his long summer moping, whistledtimidly, tentatively; then the silvery, evanescent notes floated away, away, in endless, heavenly serenity. 

A soft, leather-shod foot nudged me; I sat up, then rose, holding outmy wrists. They tied me loosely; a tall warrior stepped beside me;others fell in behind with a patter of moccasined feet. 

Then came an officer, pistol cocked and held muzzle up. He was the onlywhite man left. 

"Forward, " he said, nervously; and we started off through the purpledusk. 

Physical weariness and pain had left me; I moved as in a dream. Nothingof apprehension or dismay disturbed the strange calm of my soul; evendesire for meditation left me; and a vague content wrapped me, mindand body. 

Distance, time, were meaningless to me now; I could go on forever; Icould lie down forever; nothing mattered; nothing could touch me now. 

The moon came up, flooding the woods with a creamy light; then a littlestream, sparkling like molten silver, crossed our misty path; then abare hill-side stretched away, pale in the moonlight, vanishing into aluminous veil of vapor, floating over a hollow where unseen water lay. 

We entered a grove of still trees standing wide apart--maple-trees, withthe sap-pegs still in the bark. I sat down on a log; the Indians seatedthemselves in a wide circle around me; the renegade officer walked tothe fringe of trees and stood there motionless. 

Time passed serenely; I had fallen drowsing, soothed by the silveredsilence; when through a dream I heard a cock-crow. 

Around me the Indians rose, all listening. Far away a sound grew in thenight--the dull blows of horses' hoofs on sod; a shot rang faintly, adistant cry was echoed by a long-drawn yell and a volley. 

The renegade officer came running back, calling out, "McCraw has struckthe Legion at the grist-mill!" In the intense silence around me thenoise of the conflict grew, increasing, then became fainter and fainteruntil it died out to the westward and all was still. 

The Indians came crowding back from the edge of the grove, shovingthrough the circle of those who guarded me, pushing, pressing, surgingaround me. 

"Give him to us!" they muttered, under their breath. "The flag has notcome; they will hang your Walter Butler! Give him to us! The Legioncavalry is driving your riders into the west! Give him to us! We wish tosee how the Oriskany man can die!"

Dragged, pulled from one to another, I scarcely felt their clutch; Iscarcely felt the furtive blows that fell on me. The officer clung tome, fighting the savages back with fist and elbow. 

"Wait for McCraw!" he panted. "The flag may come yet, you fools! Wouldyou murder him and lose Walter Butler forever? Wait till McCraw comes, Itell you!"

"McCraw is riding for his life!" said a chief, fiercely. 

"It's a lie!" said the officer; "he is drawing them to ambush!"

"Give the prisoner to us!" cried the savages, closing in. "After all, what do we care for your Walter Butler!" And again they rushed forwardwith a shout. 

Twice the officer drove them back with kicks and blows, cursing theirtreachery in McCraw's absence; then, as they drew their knives, clamoring, threatening, gathering for a last rush, into their midstbounded an unearthly shape--a squat and hideous figure, fluttering withscarlet rags. Arms akimbo, the thing planted itself before me, mouthingand slavering in fury. 

"The Toad-woman! Catrine Montour! The Toad-witch!" groaned the Senecas, shrinking back, huddling together as the hag whirled about andpointed at them. 

"I want him! I want him! Give him to me!" yelped the Toad-woman. "Fools! Do you know where you are? Do you know this grove ofmaple-trees?"

The Indians, amazed and cowed, slunk farther back. The hag fixed herblazing eyes on them and raised her arms. 

"Fools! Fools!" she mouthed, "what madness brought you here to thisgrove?--to this place where the Stonish Giants have returned, riding outof Biskoona!"

A groan burst from the Indians; a chief raised his arms, making theFalse-Faces' sign. 

"Mother, " he stammered, "we did not know! We heard that the StonishGiants had returned; the Onondagas sent us word, but we did not knowthis grove was where they gathered from Biskoona! McCraw sent us here toawait the flag. "

"Liar!" hissed the hag. 

"It is the truth, " muttered the chief, shuddering. "Witness if I speakthe truth, O ensigns of the three clans!"

And a hollow groan burst from the cowering savages. "We witness, mother. It is the truth!"

"Witch!" cried the officer, in a shaking voice, "what would you do withmy prisoner? You shall not have him, by the living God!"

"Senecas, take him!" howled the hag, pointing at the officer. The fellowstrove to draw his claymore, but staggered and sank to the ground, covered under a mass of savages. Then, dragged to his feet, they pulledhim back, watching the Toad-woman for a sign. 

"To purge this grove! To purge the earth of the Stonish Giants!" shehowled. "For this I ask this prisoner. Give him to me!--to me, priestessof the six fires! Tiyanoga calls from behind the moon! What Seneca daresdisobey? Give him to me for a sacrifice to Biskoona, that the Stonishghosts be laid and the doors of fire be closed forever!"

"Take him! Spare us the dreadful rites, O mother!" answered the chief, in a quivering voice. "Slay him before us now and let us see the colorof his blood, so that we may depart in peace ere the Stonish Giants rideforth from Biskoona and leave not one among us!"

"Neah!" cried the hag, furiously. "He dies in secret!"

There was a silence of astonishment. Spite of their superstitiousterror, the Senecas knew that a sacrificial death, to close Biskoona, could not occur in secret. Suddenly the chief leaped forward and dealtme a blow with his castete. I fell, but staggered to my feet again. 

"Mother!" began the chief, "let him die quickly--"

"Silence!" screamed the hag, supporting me. "I hear, far off, the gatesof Biskoona opening! Hark! Ta-ho-ne-ho-ga-wen! The doors open--the doorsof flame! The Stonish Giants ride forth! O chief, for your sacrilegeyou die!"

A horrified silence followed; the chief reeled back, dropping thedeath-maul. 

Suddenly a horse's iron-shod foot rang out on a stone, close at hand. Straight through the moonlight, advancing steadily, came a snortinghorse; and, towering in the saddle, a magic shape clad in completesteel, glittering in the moonlight. 

"Oonah!" shrieked the hag, seizing me in both arms. 

With an unearthly howl the Senecas fled; the Toad-woman dropped me andbounded on the dazed renegade; he turned, crying out in horror, stumbled, and fell headlong down the bushy slope. 

Then, as the hag halted, she seemed to grow, straightening up, tall, broad, superb; towering into a supple shape from which the scarlet ragsfell fluttering around her like painted maple-leaves. 

"Magdalen Brant!" I gasped, swaying where I stood, the blood almostblinding me. 

From behind two steel-clad arms seized me and dragged me backward; Istumbled against the horse; the armored figure bent swiftly, caught meup, swung me clear into the saddle in front, while the armor creaked andstrained and clashed with the effort. 

Then my head was drawn gently back, falling on a steel shoulder; twoarms were thrust under mine, seizing the bridle. The horse wheeledtowards the north, stepping quietly through the moonlight, steadily, slowly northward, through misty woodlands and ferny glades and deepfields swimming under the moon, across a stony stream, up through wetmeadows, into a silvery road, and across a bridge which echoed mellowthunder under the trample of the iron-shod horse. 

The stockade gate was shut; an old slave opened it--a trembling blackman, who shot the bolts and tottered beside us, crying and pressing myhand to his eyes. 

Men came from the stables, men ran from the quarters, lanternsglimmered, windows in the house opened, and I heard a vague clamorgrowing around me, fainter now, yet dinning in my ears until a soft, dense darkness fell, weighing on my lids till they closed. 

XXII

THE END OF THE BEGINNING

Day broke with a thundering roll of drums. Instinctively I stumbled outof bed, dragged on my clothes, and, half awake and half dressed, creptto the open window. The level morning sun blazed on acres of slantingrifles passing; a solid column of Continental infantry, drums and fifesleading, came swinging along the stockade; knapsacks, cross-belts, gaiters, gray with dust; officers riding ahead with naked swords drawn, color-bearers carrying the beautiful new standard, stars shining, redand white stripes stirring lazily in brilliant, silken billows. 

The morning air rang with the gusty music of the fifes, the drums beatsteadily in solid cadence to the long, rippling trample of feet. 

Within the stockade an incessant clamor filled the air; the groundsaround the house were packed with soldiers, some leading out mules, someloading batt-horses, some drawing and carrying water, some formingranks, shouting their numbers for column of fours. 

Sir George Covert's riders of the Legion had halted under my window, rifles slung, helmets strapped; a trumpeter in embroidered jacket sathis horse in front, corded trumpet reversed flat on his thigh. 

Clearing my eyes with unsteady hand, I peered dizzily at the spectaclebelow; my ears rang with the tumult of arrival and departure; and, through the increasing uproar and the thundering rhythm of the drums, memories of the past night flashed up, livid as flames in darkness. 

The endless columns of Continentals were still pouring by the stockade, when, above the dinning drums, I heard my door shaking and a voicecalling me by name. 

"Ormond! Ormond! Open the door, man!"

With stiff limbs dragging, I made my way to the door and pulled back thebolt. Sir George Covert, in full uniform, sprang in and caught myhands in his. 

"Ormond! Ormond!" he cried, in deep reproach. "Why did you not tell melong since that you loved her? You knew she loved you! What blindviolence have you and Dorothy done yourselves and each other--and me, Ormond!--and yet another very dear to me--with your mad obstinacy andmistaken chivalry!"

I saw the grave, kind eyes searching mine, I heard his unsteady voice, but I could not respond. An immense fatigue chained mind and tongue;intelligence was there, but the tension had relaxed, and I stood dull, nerveless, my hands limp in his. 

"Ormond, " he said, gently, "we ride south in a few moments; you will beleaving for Stillwater in an hour. Gates's left wing is marching onBalston, and news is in by an Oneida runner that Arnold has swept allbefore him; Stanwix is safe; St. Leger routed. Do you understand? Everyman in Tryon County is marching on Burgoyne! You, too, will be on theway towards headquarters within the hour!"

Trembling from weakness and excitement, I could only look at him insilence. 

"So all is well, " he said, gravely, holding my hands tighter. "Do youunderstand? All is well, Ormond. .. . We struck McCraw at Schell's lastnight and tore him to atoms. We punished the Senecas dreadfully. Wehave cleared the land of the Johnsons, the Butlers, the McDonalds, andthe Mohawks, and now we're concentrating on Burgoyne. Ormond, he is adoomed man! He can never leave this land save as a prisoner!"

His grip tightened; a smile lighted his careworn face as though a ray ofpure sunshine had struck his eyes. 

"Ormond, " he said, "I have bred much mischief among us all, yet with thekindest motives in the world. If honor and modesty forbids anexplanation, at least let me repair what I can. I have given your cousinDorothy her freedom; and now, before I go, I ask your friendship. Nay, give me more--give me joy, Ormond! Man, man, must I speak more plainlystill? Must I name the bravest maid in county Tryon? Must I say that thewoman I love loves me--Magdalen Brant?"

He laughed like a boy in his excitement. "We wed in Albany on Thursday!Think of it, man! I showed her no mercy, I warrant you, soon as Iwas free!"

He colored vividly. "Nay, that's ungallant to our Maid-at-Arms, " hestammered. "I'm flustered--you will pardon that. She rides with us toAlbany--I mean Magdalen--we wed at my aunt's house--"

The trumpet of the Legion was sounding persistently; the clatter ofspurred boots filled the hallway; Ruyven burst in, sabre banging, andflung himself into my arms. 

"Good-bye! Good-bye!" he cried. "We are marching with the left wing toBalston. I'll write you, cousin, when we take Burgoyne--I'll write youall about it and exactly how I conducted!"

I felt the parting clasp of their hands, but scarcely saw them throughthe tears of sheer weakness that filled my eyes. The capacity for deepemotion was deadened in me; the strain had been too great; the reactionhad left me scarcely capable of realizing the instant portent of events. 

The mellow trampling of horses came from below. I hobbled to the windowand looked down where the troopers were riding in fours, falling inbehind a train of artillery which passed jolting and bumping alongthe stockade. 

A young girl, superbly mounted, came galloping by, and behind herspurred Sir George Covert and Ruyven. At full speed she turned her headand looked up at my window, and I think I never saw such radianthappiness in any woman's face as in Magdalen Brant's when she swept pastwith a gesture of adieu and swung her horse out into the road. Ageneral's escort and staff checked their horses to make way for her. Theofficers lifted their black cockaded hats; a slim, boyish officer, in awhite-and-gold uniform, rode forward to receive her, with a low salutethat only a Frenchman could imitate. 

So, escorted by prancing, clattering cavalry, and surrounded by abrilliant staff, Magdalen Brant rode away from Varicks'; and beside her, alert, upright, transfigured, rode Sir George Covert, whose life she hadaccepted only after she had paid her debt to Dorothy by offering her ownlife to rescue mine. 

Dim-eyed, I stared at the passing troops, the blurred colors of theiruniforms ever changing as the regiments succeeded each other, now brownand red, now green and red, now gray and yellow, as Massachusettsinfantry, New York line, and Morgan's Rifles poured steadily by inunbroken columns. 

Wrapped in my chamber-robe, head supported on my hand, I sat by thewindow, dully content, striving to think, to realize all that hadbefallen me. The glitter of the passing rifles, the constantly changinghues and colors, the movement, the noise, set my head swimming. Yet Imust prepare to leave within the hour, for the stable bells were ringingfor eight o'clock. 

Cato scratched at the door and entered, bringing me hot water, andhovering around me with napkin, salve, and basin, till my battered bodyhad been bathed, my face shaved, and my bruised head washed where theSeneca castete had glanced, tearing the skin. Clothed in fresh linen anda new uniform, sent by Schuyler, I bade him call Sir Lupus; who camepresently, his mouth full of toast, a mug of cooled ale in one hand, clay pipe in the other. 

He laid his pipe on the mantel, set his mug on a chair, and embraced me, shaking his head in solemn silence; and we sat for a space, consideringone another, while Cato filled my bowl with chocolate and removed thecover from my smoking porridge-dish. 

"They beat all, " said Sir Lupus, at length; "don't they, George?"

"Do you mean our troops, sir?" I asked. 

"No, sir, I don't. I mean our women. "

He struck his fat leg with his palm, drew a long breath, and regardedme, arms akimbo. 

"Mad, sir; all stark, raving mad! Look at those two chits of girls! TheLegion had gone tearing off after you to Schell's with an Oneida scout;Sir George pops in with his tale of your horrid plight, then pelts offto find his troopers and do what he could to save you. Gad, George! itlooked bad for you. I--I was half out o' my senses, thinking of you; andwhat with the children a-squalling and the household rushing up stairsand down, and the militia marching to the grist-mill bridge, I didnothing. What the devil was I to do? Eh?"

"You did quite right, sir, " I said, gravely. 

He lay back, staring at me, shoving his fat hands into his breechespockets. 

"If I'd known what that baggage o' mine was bent on, I'd ha' locked herin the cellar!. .. George, you won't hold that against me, will you?She's my own daughter. But the hussy was gone with Magdalen Brant beforeI dreamed of it--gone on the maddest moonlight quest that mortal everdared conceive!--one in rags cut from a red blanket, t'other in thatrotten old armor that your aunt thought fit to ship from England whenher father stripped the house to cross an ocean and build in the forestsof a new world. George, she's all Ormond, that girl o' mine. A Varickwould never have thought to cut such a caper, I tell you. It isn't inour line; it isn't in Dutch blood to imagine such things, or do'em either!"

He seized pipe and mug, swearing under his breath. 

"It was the bravest thing I ever knew, " I said, huskily. 

He dipped his nose into his mug, pulled at his long pipe, and eyed measkance. 

"What the devil's this between you and Dorothy?" he growled. 

"Nothing, I trust now, sir, " I answered, in a low voice. 

"Oh! 'nothing, you trust now, sir!'" he mimicked, striving to turn asour face. "Dammy, d' ye know that I meant her for Sir George Covert?"His broad face softened; he attempted to scowl, and failed utterly. "Thank God, the land's clear of these bandits of St. Leger, anyhow!" hesnorted. "I'll work my mills and I'll scrape enough to pay my debts. Isuppose I'll have you on my hands when you've finished with Burgoyne. "

"No, " I said, smiling, "the blow that Arnold struck at Stanwix will befelt from Maine to the Florida Keys. The blow to be delivered twentymiles north of us will settle any questions of land confiscation. No, Sir Lupus, I shall not be on your hands, but . .. You may be on mine ifyou turn Tory!"

"You impudent rogue!" he cried, struggling to his feet; then, stillclutching pipe and pewter, he embraced me, and choked and chuckled, laying his fat head on my shoulder. "Be a son to me, George, " hewhimpered, sentimentally; "if you won't, you're a damnedungrateful pup!"

And he took himself off, sniffing, and sucking at his long clay, whichhad gone out. 

I turned to the window, drawing in deep breaths of sweet, pure morningair. Troops were still passing in solid column, grim, dirty soldiers inheavy cowhide knapsacks, leather gaiters, and blue great-coats buttonedback at the skirts; and I heard the militia at the quarters callingacross the stable-yard that these grimy battalions were some ofWashington's veterans, hurried north from West Point by his Excellencyto stiffen the backbone of Lincoln's militia, who prowled, growling andsnarling, around Burgoyne's right flank. 

They were a gaunt, hard-eyed, firm-jawed lot, marching with a peculiarcadence and swing which set all their muskets and buckles glittering atone moment, as though a thousand tiny mirrors had been turned to thelight, then turned away. And, pat! pat! patter! patter! pat! went theirsingle company drums, and their drummers seemed to beat mechanically, without waste of energy, yet with a dry, rattling precision that I hadnever heard save in the old days when the British troops at New Smyrnaor St. Augustine marched out. 

"Good--mornin', sorr, " came a hearty and somewhat loud voice from below;and I saw Murphy, Elerson, and Mount, arm in arm, swaggering past withthat saunter that none but a born forest runner may hope to imitate. They were not sober. 

I spoke to them kindly, however, asking them if their wants were fullysupplied; and they acknowledged with enthusiasm that they could desirenothing better than Sir Lupus's buttery ale. 

"Wisha, then, sorr, " said Murphy, jerking his thumb towards the sombrecolumn passing, "thim laads is the laads f'r to twisht th' Dootchpigtails on thim Hissians at Half-moon. They do be pigtails on th'Dootch a fut long in the eel-skin. Faith, I saw McCraw's scalp--'twaswan o' Harrod's men tuk it, not I, sorr!--an' 'twas red an' ratty, widnary a lock to lift it, more shame to McCraw!"

Mount stood, balancing now on his heels, now on his toes, inhaling andexpelling his breath like a man who has had more than a morningdraught of cider. 

He laid his head on one side, like an enormous bird, and regarded mewith a simper, as though lost in admiration. 

"Three cheers for the Colonel, " he observed, thickly, and took off hiscap. 

"'Ray!" echoed Elerson, regarding the unsteadiness of Mount's legs withan expression of wonder and pity. 

I bade Mount saddle my mare and prepare to accompany me to headquarters. He saluted amiably; presently they started across the yard for theirquarters, distributing morsels of wisdom and advice among themilitiamen, who stared at them with awe and pointed at their beadedshot--pouches, which were, alas! adorned with fringes of coarse hair, dyed scarlet. 

But Morgan must worry over that. I had other matters to stir me and setmy pulses beating heavily as I walked to the door, opened it, and lookedout into the hallway. 

Children's voices came from the library below; I rested my hand on thebanisters, aiding my stiffened limbs in the descent, and limped downthe stairs. 

Cecile spied me first. She was sitting on the porch with a very, veryyoung ensign of Half-moon militia, watching the passing troops; and shesprang to her feet and threw her arms about my neck, kissing me againand again, a proceeding viewed with concern by the very young ensign ofHalf-moon militia. 

"You darling!" she whispered. "Dorothy's in the library with father andthe children. Lean on me, you poor boy! How you have suffered! And tothink that you loved her all the time! Ah!" she whispered, sentimentally, pressing my arm, "how rare is constancy! How adorable itmust be to be adored!"

There was a rush of children as we entered, and Cecile cried, "Youlittle beasts, have you no manners?" But they were clinging to me, limband body, and I stood there, caressing them, eyes fixed on my cousinDorothy, who had risen from her chair. 

She was very pale and quiet, and the hand she left in mine seemedlifeless as I bent to kiss it. But, upon the bridal finger, I saw theghost-ring, a thin, rosy band, and I thrilled from head to foot withhappiness unspeakable. 

"Get him a chair, Harry!" said Sir Lupus. "Sit down, George; and whatshall it be, my boy, cold mulled or spiced to cheer you on your journey?Or, as the Glencoe brawlers have it, 'Wha's f'r poonch?'"

I sank into my chair, saying I desired nothing; and my eyes never leftDorothy, who sat with golden head bent, folding and refolding theruffled corner of her apron, raising her lovely eyes at moments to lookacross at me. 

The morning had turned raw and chilly; a log-fire crackled on thehearth, where Benny had set a row of early harvest apples to sizzle andsteam and perfume the air, the while Dorothy heard Harry, Sammy, andBenny read their morning lessons, so that they might hurry away towatch the passing army of their pet hero, Gates. 

"Come, " cried the patroon, "read your lessons and get out, you youngdunces! Now, Sammy!"

Dorothy looked at me and took up her book. 

"If Amos gives Joseph sixteen apples, and Joseph gives Amanda two timesone half of one half of the apples, how many will Amanda have?" demandedSamuel, with labored breath. "And the true answer to that is six. "

Dorothy nodded and stole a glance at me. 

"That doesn't sound quite right to me, " said Sir Lupus, wrinkling hisbrows and counting on his fingers. "Is that the answer, Dorothy?"

"I don't know, " she murmured, eyes fixed on me. 

Sir Lupus glared at Dorothy, then at me. Then he stuffed his pipe fullof tobacco and sat in grim silence while Benny repeated:

"Theven timeth theven ith theventy-theven; theven timeth eight iththixty-thix. " While Dorothy nodded absently and plaited the edges of herlace apron, and looked at me under lowered lashes. And Benny lisped on:"Theven timeth nine ith theventy-thix; theven--"

"Stop that nonsense!" burst out Sir Lupus. "Take 'em away, Cecile! Take'em out o' my sight!"

The children, only too delighted to escape, rushed forth with whoops andhoots, demanding to be shown their hero, General Gates. Sir Lupus lookedafter them sardonically. 

"We're a race o' glory--mongers these days, " he said. "Gad, I neverthought to see offspring o' mine chasing the drums! Look at 'em now!Ruyven hunting about Tryon County for a Hessian to knock him in thehead; Cecile sitting in rapture with every cornet or ensign who'llnotice her; the children yelling for Lafayette and Washington; Dorothy, here, playing at Donna Quixota, and you starting for Stillwater toteach that fool, Gates, how to catch Burgoyne. Set an ass to catch anass--eh, George?--"

He stopped, his small eyes twinkling with a softer light. 

"I suppose you want me to go, " he said. 

We did not reply. 

"Oh, I'm going, " he added, fretfully; "I'm no company for a pair o'heroes, a colonel, and--"

"Touching the colonelcy, " I said, "I want to make it plain that I shallrefuse the promotion. I did nothing; the confederacy was split byMagdalen Brant, not by me; I did nothing at Oriskany; I cannotunderstand how General Schuyler should think me deserving of suchpromotion. And I am ashamed to take it when such men as Arnold arepassed over, and such men as Schuyler are slighted--"

"Folderol! What the devil's this?" bawled Sir Lupus. "Do you think youknow more than your superior officers--hey? You're a colonel, George. Let well enough alone, for if you make a donkey of yourself, they'llmake you a major-general!"

With a spasmodic effort he got on his feet, seized glass and pipe, andwaddled out of the room, slamming the door behind him. 

In the ringing silence a charred log broke and fell in a shower ofsparks, tincturing the air with the perfume of sweet birch smoke. 

[Illustration: "A STRANGE SHYNESS SEEMED TO HOLD US APART". ]

I rose from my chair. Dorothy rose, too, trembling. A strange shynessseemed to hold us apart. She stood there, the forced smile stamped onher lips, watching me with the fascination of fear; and I steadiedmyself on the arm of my chair, looking deep into her eyes, seeking torecognize in her the child I had known. 

The child had gone, and in her place stood this lovely, silent stranger, with all the mystery of woman-hood in her eyes--that sweet light, exquisitely prophetic, divinely sad. 

"Dorothy, " I said, under my breath. "All that is brave and adorable inyou, I love and worship. You have risen so far above me--and I am soweak and--and broken, and unworthy--"

"I love you, " she faltered, her lips scarcely moving. Then the colorsurged over brow and throat; she laid her hands on her hot cheeks; Itook her in my arms, holding her imprisoned. At my touch the color fadedfrom her face, leaving it white as a flower. 

"I fear you--maid spiritual, maid militant--Maid-at-Arms!" I stammered. 

"And I fear you, " she murmured, looking at me. "What lover does thewhole world hold like you? What hero can compare with you? And who am Ithat I should take you away from the whole world? Sweetheart, Iam afraid. "

"Then fear no more, " I whispered, and bent my head. She raised her paleface; her arms crept up around my neck and tightened, clinging closer asher closing lips met mine. 

There came a tapping at the door, a shuffle of felt-shod feet--

"Mars' Gawge, suh, yo' hoss done saddle', suh. "

THE END