"I am Red Wings, a Thaowethon Oneida of Ironderoga, runner for General Clinton--and my credentials are this wampum string, so that you shall know that I speak the truth!" And he whipped a string of red and black wampum from his pouch and handed it to me.

Holding the shining coil in my hands, I looked at him searchingly.

"By what path did you come?"

"By no path. I left Otsego as you left, crossed the river where you had crossed, recrossed where you did not recross, but where a canoe had landed."

"And then?"

"I saw the Mengwe," he said politely, as the Sagamore came up beside him.

Mayaro smiled his appreciation of the Algonquin term, then he spat, saying:

"The Mengwe were Sinako and Mowawak. One has joined the Eel Clan."

"The Red Wings saw him. The Cat-People of the Sinako sat in a circle around that scalpless thing and sang like catamounts over their dead!"

It is impossible to convey the scorn, contempt, insult, and loathing expressed by the Mohican and the Oneida, unless one truly understand the subtlety of the words they used in speaking of their common enemies.

"The Red Wings came by the Charlotte River?" I asked.

"By the Cherry, Quenevas, and Charlotte to the Ouleout. The Mengwe fired on me as I stood on a high cliff and mocked them."

"Did they follow you?"

"Can my brother Loskiel trail feathered wings through the high air paths? A little way I let them follow, then took wing, leaving them to whine and squall on the Susquehanna."

"And Butler and McDonald?" I demanded, smiling.

"I do not know. I saw white men's tracks on the Charlotte, not two hours old. They pointed toward the Delaware. The Minisink lies there."

I nodded. "Now let the Red Wings fold his feathers and go to rest," I said, "until I have read my letters and considered them."

The Oneida immediately threw himself on the ground and drew his pouch under his head. Before I could open my first letter, he was asleep and breathing quietly as a child. And, on his naked shoulder, I saw a smear of balsam plastered over with a hazel leaf, where a bullet had left its furrow. He had not even mentioned that he had been hit.

The first letter was from my General Clinton:

"Have a care," he wrote, "that your Indians prove faithful. The Wyandotte I a.s.signed to your command made a poor impression among our Oneida guides. This I hear from Major Parr, who came to tell me so after you had left. Remember, too, that you and your Mohican are most necessary to General Sullivan. Interpreters trained by Guy Johnson are anything but plenty; and another Mohican who knows the truest route to Catharines-town is not to be had for whistling."

This letter decided me to rid myself of the Wyandotte. Here was sufficient authority; time enough had elapsed since he had joined us for me to come to a decision. Even my Indians could not consider my judgment hasty now.

I cast a cold glance at him, where he stood in the distance leaning against a huge walnut tree and apparently keeping watch across the Ouleout. The Grey-Feather was watching there, too, and I had no doubt that his wary eyes were fixed as often on the Wyandotte as on the wooded sh.o.r.e across the stream.

A second letter was from Major Parr, and said:

"An Oneida girl called Drooping Wings, of whom you bought some trumpery or other, came to the fort after you had left, and told me that among the party in their camp was an adopted Seneca who had seen and recognized your Wyandotte as a Seneca and not as a Huron.

"Not that this information necessarily means that the Indian called Black-Snake is a traitor. He brought proper credentials from the officer commanding at Pitt. But it is best that you know of this, and that you feel free to use your judgment accordingly."

"Yes," said I to myself, "I'll use it."

I took another long look at the suspect, then opened my third and last letter. It was from Lois; and my heart beat the "general" so violently that for a moment it stopped my breath:

"Euan Loskiel, my comrade, and my dear friend: Since you have gone, news has come that our General Wayne, with twelve hundred light infantry, stormed and took Stony Point on the Hudson on the 15th of this past month. All the stores, arms, ammunition, and guns are ours, with more than five hundred prisoners. The joy at this post is wonderful to behold; our soldiers are mad with delight and cheer all day long.

"Lieutenant Beatty tells me that we have taken fourteen pieces of good ordnance, seven hundred stand of arms, tents, rum, cheese, wine, and a number of other articles most agreeable to recount.

"On Wednesday morning last a sad affair; at Troop Beating three men were brought out to be shot, all found guilty of desertion, one from the 4th Pennsylvania, one from the 6th Ma.s.sachusetts, and one from the 3rd New York. The troops were drawn up on the grand parade. Two of the men were reprieved by the General; the third was shot.... It meant more to me, kneeling in my room with both hands over my ears to shut out the volley, than it meant to those who witnessed the awful scene. Marching back, the fifes and drums played 'Soldiers' Joy.' I had forgotten to stop my ears, and heard them.

"On Tuesday rain fell. News came at noon that Indians had surprised and killed thirty-six haymakers near Fort Schuyler; and that other Indians had taken fifteen or seventeen of our men who were gathering blueberries at Sabbath Day Point. Whereupon Colonel Gansevoort immediately marched for Canajoharie with his regiment, which had but just arrived; and in consequence Betty Bleecker and Angelina are desolate.

"As you see from this letter, we have left Croghan's new house, and are living at Otsego in a fine Bush House, and near to the place where Croghan's old house stood before it was destroyed.

"Sunday, after an all night rain, clear skies; and all the officers were being schooled in saluting with the sword, the General looking on.

In the afternoon the Chaplain, 'Parson' Gano, as the soldiers call him, gave us a sermon. I went with Betty and Angelina. Miss Helmer went on the lake in a batteau with Mr. Boyd. The Rifles tried their guns on the lake, shooting at marks. Murphy and Elerson made no misses.

"On Monday the officers had a punch, most respectable and gay. We ladies went with Major Parr, Lieutenant Boyd, and the Ensign you so detest, to view the hilarity, but not to join, it being a sociable occasion for officers only, the kegs of rum being offered by General Clinton--a gentleman not famed for his generosity in such matters.

"This, Euan, is all the general news I have to offer, save that the army expects its marching orders at any moment now.

"Euan, I am troubled in my heart. First, I must acquaint you that Lana Helmer and I have become friends. The night you left I was sitting in my room, thinking; and Lana came in and drew my head on her shoulder.

We said nothing to each other all that night, but slept together in my room. And since then we have come to know each other very well in the way women understand each other. I love her dearly.

"Euan, she will not admit it, but she is mad about Lieutenant Boyd--and it is as though she had never before loved and knows not how to conduct. Which is strange, as she has been so courted and is deeply versed in experience, and has lived more free of restraint than most women I ever heard of. Yet, it has taken her like a pernicious fever; and I do neither like nor trust that man, for all his good looks, and his wit and manners, and the exceedingly great courage and military sagacity which none denies him.

"Yesterday Lana came to my little room in our Bush House, where I sleep on a bed of balsam, and we sat there, the others being out, and she told me about Clarissa, and wept in the telling. What folly will not a woman commit for love! And Sir John riding the wilderness with his murdering crew! May the Lord protect and aid all women from such birds o' pa.s.sage and of prey! And I thought I had seen the pin-feathers of some such plumage on this man Boyd. But he may moult to a prettier colour. I hope so--but in my heart I dare not believe it. For he is of that tribe of men who would have their will of every pretty petticoat they notice. Some are less unscrupulous than others, that is the only difference. And he seems still to harbour a few scruples, judging from what I see of him and her, and what I know of her.

"Yet, if a man bear not his good intention plainly written on his face, and yet protests he dies unless you love him, what scruples he may entertain will wither to ashes in the fiercer flame. And how after all does he really differ from the others?

"Euan, I am sick of dread and worry, what with you out in the West with your painted scouts, and Mr. Boyd telling me that he has his doubts concerning the reliability of one o' them! And what with Lana so white and unhappy, and coming into my bed to cry against my breast at night----"

Here the letter ended abruptly, and underneath in hurried writing:

"Major Parr calls to say that an Oneida runner is ordered to try to find you with despatches from headquarters. I had expected to send this letter by some one in your own regiment when it marched. But now I shall intrust it to the runner.

"I know not how to close my letter--how to say farewell--how to let you know how truly my heart is yours. And becomes more so every hour. Nor can you understand how humbly I thank G.o.d for you--that you are what you are--and not like Sir John and--other men.

"Women are of a mult.i.tude of kinds--until they love. Then they are of but two kinds. Of one of these kinds shall I be when I love. Not that I doubt myself, yet, who can say what I shall be? Only three, Euan--G.o.d, the man who loves me, and myself."

"I sit here waiting for a rifleman to take my letter to the General who has promised to commit it to the runner.

"A regiment is trying its muskets at the lake. I hear the firing.