_ CHAPTER II. THE CHEST OF DRAWERS
It was but a fleeting glimpse that Robert had of the second man, but he believed that it was Garay. He not only looked like the spy, but he was convinced that it was really he. After the first moment or two he did not doubt his identity, and making an excuse that he wanted a little fresh air and would return in an instant he walked quickly to the door. He caught another and fugitive glimpse of two men, one tall and the other short, walking away together, and he could not doubt that they were the slaver and the spy.
Had he been alone Robert would have followed them, though he was quite certain that Garay must have had some place of sure refuge, else he would not have ventured into Albany. Even with that recourse his act was uncommonly bold. If the slaver was daring, the spy was yet more so. There was nothing against the slaver that they could prove, but the spy put his neck in the noose.
Robert whistled softly to himself, and he was very thoughtful. Willet, Tayoga and he had been so completely victorious over Garay in the forest that perhaps he had underrated him. Maybe he was a man to be feared. His daring appearance in Albany must be fortified by supreme cunning, and his alliance with the slaver implied a plan. Robert believed that the plan, or a part of it at least, was directed against himself. Well, what if it was? He could meet it, and he was not afraid. He had overcome other perils, and he had friends, as true and steadfast as were ever held to any man by hooks of steel. His heart beat high, he was in a glow, his whole soul leaped forward to meet prospective danger.
He went back into the inn and took his seat with the others. Now it was Stuart who was talking, telling them of life in the great Southern colony and of its delights, of the big houses, of the fields of tobacco, of the horse races, of the long visits to neighbors, and how all who were anybody were related, making Virginia one huge family.
"Now Cabell and I," he said, "belong to the same clan. My mother and his father are third cousins, which makes us fourth cousins, or fifth is it? But whether fourth or fifth, we're cousins just the same. All the people of our blood are supposed to stand together, and do stand together. Oh, it has its delights! It makes us sufficient unto ourselves! The old Dominion is a world in itself, complete in all its parts."
"But you have to come to Philadelphia to see a great city and get a taste of metropolitan life," said Colden.
Then a discussion, friendly but warm arose as to the respective merits of the Virginia and Pennsylvania provinces, and when it was at its height and the attention of all the others was absorbed in it, Tayoga leaned over and whispered to Robert:
"What did you see at the door, Dagaeoga?"
Robert was startled. So, the Onondago was watching, after all. He might have known that nothing would escape his attention.
"I saw Garay, the spy," he replied in the same tone.
"And the man at the little table was the captain of the slave ship on which you were taken?"
"The same."
"It bodes ill, Dagaeoga. You must watch."
"I will, Tayoga."
The crowd in the great room of the George Inn increased and the young group remained, eager to watch it. It was a reflex of the life in the colonies, at the seat of conflict, and throbbing with all the emotions of a great war that enveloped nearly the whole civilized world. A burly fellow, dressed as a teamster, finally made his voice heard above the others.
"I tell you men," he said, "that we must give up Albany! Our army has been cut to pieces! Montcalm is advancing with twenty thousand French regulars, and swarms of Indians! They control all of Lake George as well as Champlain! Hundreds of settlers have already fallen before the tomahawk, and houses are burning along the whole border! I have it from them that have seen the fires."
There was a sudden hush in the crowd, followed by an alarmed murmur. The man's emphasis and his startling statements made an impression.
"Go on, Dobbs! Tell us about it!" said one.
"What do you know?" asked another.
He stood up, a great tall man with a red face.
"My cousin has been in the north," he said, "and he's seen rangers, some that have just escaped from the Indians, barely saving their hair. He heard from them that the King of France has sent a big army to Canada, and that another just as big is on the way. It won't be a week before you see the French flag from the hills of Albany, and wise men are already packing ready to go to New York."
There was another alarmed hush.
"This fellow must be stopped," said Colden. "He'll start a panic."
"Dagaeoga has the gift of words," whispered a voice in Robert's ear, "and now is the time to use it."
Nothing more was needed. Robert was on fire in an instant, and, standing upon his chair, asked for attention.
"Your pardon a moment, Mr. Dobbs," he said, "if I interrupt you."
"Why it's only a boy!" a man exclaimed.
"A boy, it's true," said Robert, who now felt himself the center of all eyes, and who, as usual, responded with all his faculties to such an opportunity, "but I was present at the Battle of Ticonderoga, and perhaps I've a chance to correct a few errors into which our friend, Mr. Dobbs, has fallen."
"What are those errors?" asked the man in a surly tone, not relishing his loss of the stage.
"I'll come to them promptly," said Robert in his mellowest tones. "They're just trifles, Mr. Dobbs, but still trifles should be corrected. I stood with the French army in the battle, and I know something about its numbers, which are about one-sixth of what Mr. Dobbs claims them to be."
"What were you doing with the French?"
"I happened to be a prisoner, Mr. Dobbs. I escaped a day or two later. But here are with me young officers of ours who were in the attack. Several of them felt the sting of French bullets on that day, so when they tell you what happened they know what they're talking about. Their reports don't come from their cousins, but are the product of their own eyes and ears. Peace, Mr. Dobbs! I've the floor, or rather the chair, and I must tell the facts. We were defeated at Ticonderoga, it's true, but we were not cut to pieces. Our generals failed to bring up our artillery. They underrated the French. They went with rifles, muskets and bayonets alone against breastworks, defended by a valiant foe, for the French are valiant, and they paid the price. But our army is in existence and it's as brave as ever. Albany is in no danger. Don't be alarmed."
"You're but a boy. You don't know," growled Dobbs.
"Peace, Mr. Dobbs! Give us peace. A boy who has seen may know better than a man who has not seen. I tell you once again, friends, that the Marquis de Montcalm will not appear before Albany. It's a long way from Ticonderoga to this city, too long a road for the French army to travel. Wise men are not packing for flight to New York. Wise men are staying right here."
"Hear! Hear!" exclaimed the Virginians and Philadelphians and Grosvenor, and "Hear! Hear!" was repeated from the crowd. Dobbs' red face grew redder, but now he was silent.
"My friends," continued Robert in his golden persuasive tones, "you're not afraid, you're all brave men, but you must guard against panic. Experience tells you that rumor is irresponsible, that, as it spreads, it grows. We're going to learn from our defeat. The French are as near to Albany as they'll ever come. The war is not going to move southward. Its progress instead will be toward Quebec. Remember that panic is always a bad counselor; but that courage is ever a good one. Things are never as bad as they look."
"Hear! Hear!" exclaimed his young comrades again, and the echoes from the crowd were more numerous than before. The teamster began to draw back and presently slipped out of the door. Then Robert sat down amid great applause, blushing somewhat because he had been carried away by his feelings and apologizing to the others for making himself conspicuous.
"Nothing to apologize for," exclaimed Cabell. "'Twas well done, a good speech at the right time. You've the gift of oratory, Lennox. You should come to Virginia to live, after we've defeated the French. Our province is devoted to oratory. You've the gift of golden speech, and the people will follow you."
"I'm afraid I've made an enemy of that man, Dobbs," said Robert, "and I had enemies enough already."
His mind went back to the slaver and Garay, and he was troubled.
"We've had our little triumph here, thanks to Lennox," said Colden, "and it seems to me now that we've about exhausted the possibilities of the George. Besides, the air is getting thick. Let's go outside."
Grosvenor paid the score and they departed, a cheer following them. Here were young officers who had fought well, and the men in the George were willing to show respect.
"I think I'd better return to camp now," said Grosvenor.
"We'll go with you," said Colden, speaking for the Pennsylvanians.
"Stuart and I are detached for the present," said Cabell. "We secured a transfer from our command in Virginia, and we're hoping for commissions in the Royal Americans, and more active service, since the whole tide of war seems to have shifted to the north rather than the west."
"The Royal Americans are fine men," said Robert. "Though raised in the colonies, they rank with the British regulars. I had a good friend in one of the regiments, Edward Charteris, of New York, but he was taken at Ticonderoga. I saw the French bring him in a prisoner. I suppose they're holding him in Quebec now."
"Then we'll rescue him when we take Quebec," said Stuart valiantly.
The friends separated with promises to meet again soon and to see much of one another while they were in Albany, Grosvenor and the Pennsylvanians continuing to the camp, Cabell and Stuart turning back to the George for quarters, and Robert and Tayoga going toward the house of Mynheer Jacobus Huysman. But before they reached it young Lennox suggested that they turn toward the river.
"It is well to do so," said the Onondaga. "I think that Dagaeoga wishes to look there for a ship."
"That's in my mind, Tayoga, and yet I wouldn't know the vessel I'm looking for if I saw her."
"She will be commanded by the man whom we saw in the inn, the one with whom Dagaeoga talked."
"I've no doubt of it, Tayoga. Nothing escapes your notice."
"What are eyes for if not to see! And it is a time for all to watch; especially, it is a time for Dagaeoga to watch with his eyes, his ears and all his senses."
"I've that feeling myself."
"Something is plotting against you. The slaver did not meet the spy for nothing."
"Why should men bother about one as insignificant as I am, when the world is plunged into a great war?"
"It is because Dagaeoga is in the way of somebody. He is very much in the way or so much trouble and risk would not be taken to remove him."
"I wonder what it is Tayoga. I know that Mr. Hardy and Mr. Huysman and doubtless others hold the key to this lock, but I feel quite sure they are not going to put it in my hand just at present."
"No, they will not, but it must be for very good reasons. No one ever had better friends than Dagaeoga has in them. If they do not choose to tell him anything it will be wise for him not to ask questions."
"That's just the way I feel about it, and so I'm going to ask no questions."
A hulking figure barred their way, a red face glowed at them, and a rough voice demanded satisfaction.
"You fellow with the slick tongue, you had 'em laughing at me in the tavern," said Dobbs, the teamster. "You just the same as told 'em I was a liar when I said the French were coming."
The man was full of unreasoning anger, and he handled the butt end of a heavy whip. Yet Robert felt quite cool. His pistol was in his belt, and Tayoga was at his elbow.
"You are mistaken, my good Mr. Dobbs," he said gaily. "I would never tell a man he was a liar, particularly one to whom I had not been introduced. I try to be choice in my language. I was trained to be so by Mr. Alexander McLean, a most competent schoolmaster of this city, and I merely tried to disseminate a thought in the minds of the numerous audience gathered in the George Inn. My thought was unlike your thought, and so I was compelled to use words that did not resemble the words used by you. I was not responsible for the results flowing from them."
"I don't know what you mean," growled Dobbs. "You string a lot of big words together, and I think you're laughing at me again."
"Impossible, Mr. Dobbs. I could not be so impolite. My risibilities may be agitated to a certain extent, but laugh in the face of a stranger, never! Now will you kindly let us pass? The street here is narrow and we do not wish to crowd."
Dobbs did not move and his manner became more threatening than ever, the loaded whip swaying in his hand. Robert's light and frolicsome humor did not depart. He felt himself wholly master of the situation.
"Now, good Mr. Dobbs, kind Mr. Dobbs, I ask you once more to move," he said in his most wheedling manner. "The day is too bright and pleasant to be disturbed by angry feelings. My own temper is always even. Nothing disturbs me. I was never known to give way to wrath, but my friend whom you see by my side is a great Onondaga chieftain. His disposition is haughty and fierce. He belongs to a race that can never bear the slightest suspicion of an insult. It is almost certain death to speak to him in an angry or threatening manner. Friends as we have been for years, I am always very careful how I address him."
The teamster's face fell and he stepped back. The heavy whip ceased to move in a menacing manner in his hand.
"Prudence is always a good thing," continued Robert. "When a great Indian chieftain is a friend to a man, any insult to that man is a double insult to the chieftain. It is usually avenged with the utmost promptitude, and place is no bar. An angry glance even may invite a fatal blow."
Dobbs stepped to one side, and Robert and Tayoga walked haughtily on. The Onondaga laughed low, but with intense amusement.
"Verily it is well to have the gift of words," he said, "when with their use one, leaving weapons undrawn, can turn an enemy aside."
"I could not enter into a street fight with such a man, Tayoga, and diplomacy was needed. You'll pardon my use of you as a menace?"
"I'm at Dagaeoga's service."
"That being the case we'll now continue the search for our slaver."
They hunted carefully along the shores of the Hudson. Albany was a busy river port at all times, but it was now busier than ever, the pressure of war driving new traffic upon it from every side. Many boats were bringing supplies from further south, and others were being loaded with the goods of timid people, ready to flee from Montcalm and the French. Albany caught new trade both coming and going. The thrifty burghers profited by it and rejoiced.
"We've nothing to go on," said Robert, "and perhaps we couldn't tell the slaver's ship if we were looking squarely at it. Still, it seems to me it ought to be a small craft, slim and low, built for speed and with a sneaky look."
"Then we will seek such a vessel," said Tayoga.
Nothing answered the description. The river people were quite willing to talk and, the two falling into conversation with them, as if by chance, were able to account for every craft of any size. There was no strange ship that could be on any mysterious errand.
"It is in my mind, Dagaeoga," said Tayoga, "that this lies deeper than we had thought. The slaver would not have shown himself and he would not have talked with you so freely if he had not known that he would leave a hidden trail."
"It looks that way to me, Tayoga," said Robert, "and I think Garay must be in some kind of disguise. He would not venture so boldly among us if he did not have a way of concealing himself."
"It is in my mind, too, that we have underestimated the spy. He has perhaps more courage and resolution than we thought, or these qualities may have come to him recently. The trade of a spy is very useful to Montcalm just now. After his victory at Ticonderoga he will be anxious to know what we are doing here at Albany, and it will be the duty of Garay to learn. Besides, we put a great humiliation upon him that time we took his letter from him in the forest, and he is burning for vengeance upon us. It is not in the nature of Dagaeoga to wish revenge, but he must not blind himself on that account to the fact that others cherish it."
"It was the fortune of war. We have our disasters and our enemies have theirs."
"Yet we must beware of Garay. I know it, Dagaeoga."
"At any rate we can't find out anything about him and the slaver along the river, and that being the case I suggest that we go on to the house of Mynheer Jacobus, where we're pretty sure of a welcome."
Their greetings at the burgher's home were as warm as anybody could wish. Master McLean had left, and the rest were talking casually in the large front room, but the keen eyes of the Onondaga read the signs infallibly. This was a trail that could not be hidden from him.
"Other men have been here," he said a little later to Robert, when they were alone in the room. "There has been a council."
"How do you know, Tayoga?"
"How do I know, Dagaeoga? Because I have eyes and I use them. It is printed all over the room in letters of the largest type and in words of one syllable. The floor is of polished wood, Dagaeoga, and there is a great table in the center of the chamber. The chairs have been moved back, but eight men sat around it. I can count the faint traces made by the chairs in the polish of the floor. They were heavy men--most of the men of Albany are heavy, and now and then they moved restlessly, as they talked. That was why they ground the chair legs against the polish, leaving there little traces which will be gone in another hour, but which are enough while they last to tell their tale.
"They moved so, now and then because their talk was of great importance. They smoked also that they might think better over what they were saying. A child could tell that, because smoke yet lingers in the room, although Caterina has opened the windows to let it out. Some of it is left low down in the corners, and under the chairs now against the wall. A little of the ash from their pipes has fallen on the table, showing that although Caterina has opened the windows she has not yet had time to clean the room. You and I know, Dagaeoga, that she would never miss any ash on the table. Master McLean smoked much, perhaps more than any of the others. He uses the strongest Virginia tobacco that he can obtain, and I know its odor of old. I smell it everywhere in the room. I also know the odor of the tobacco that Mynheer Jacobus uses, and it is strongest here by the mantel, showing that in the course of the council he frequently got up and stood here. Ah, there is ash on the mantel itself! He tapped it now and then with his pipe to enforce what he was saying. Mynheer Jacobus was much stirred, or he would not have risen to his feet to make speeches to the others."
"Can you locate Master Hardy also?"
"I think I can, Dagaeoga."
He ran around the room like a hound on the scent, and, at last, he stopped before a large massive locked chest of drawers that stood in the corner, a heavy mahogany piece that looked as if it had been imported from France or Italy.
"Master Jacobus came here," said the Onondaga. "I smell his tobacco. Ah, and Master Hardy came, too! I now smell his tobacco also. I remember that when we were in New York he smoked a peculiar, bitter West India compound which doubtless is brought to him regularly in his ships--men nearly always have a favorite tobacco and will take every trouble to get it. I recognize the odor perfectly. There are traces of the ash of both tobaccos on the chest of drawers, and Master Huysman and Master Hardy came here, because there are papers in this piece of furniture which Master Huysman wished to show to Master Hardy. They are in the third drawer from the top, because there is a little dust on the others, but none on the third. It fell off when it was opened, and was then shut again strongly after they were through."
Robert gazed with intense curiosity at the third drawer. The papers in it might concern himself--he believed Tayoga implicitly--but it was not for him to pry into the affairs of two such good friends. If they wished to keep their secret a while longer, then they had good reasons for doing so.
"Did the others come to the chest of drawers also, and look at the papers?" he asked.
The Onondaga knelt down and examined the polished floor.
"I do not think so," he replied at length. "It is wholly likely that Master Jacobus and Master Hardy came to the chest of drawers after the others had gone, and that the papers had no bearing on the matters they talked over in the council. Yes, it is so! It is bound to be so! The odor of their two tobaccos is stronger than any of the other odors in the room, showing that they were in here much longer than the others. It may be that the papers in the third drawer relate to Dagaeoga."
"I had that thought myself, Tayoga."
"Does Dagaeoga wish me to go further with it?"
"No, Tayoga. What those men desire to hide from us must remain hidden."
"I am glad Dagaeoga has answered that way, because if he had not I should have refused to go on, and yet I knew that was the way in which he would answer."
They went to another room in which they found Mr. Huysman, Mr. Hardy and the clerk, and Robert told of his meeting with the slaver. The face of Benjamin Hardy darkened.
"Tayoga is right," he said. "That man's presence here bodes ill for you, Robert."
"I'm not afraid. Besides I've too many friends," said Robert quietly.
"Both your statements are true, but you must be careful just the same," interjected Master Jacobus. "Nevertheless, we'll not be apprehensive. Master McLean iss coming back for supper, and we're going to make it a great affair, a real reunion for all of us. Caterina, helped by two stout colored women, has been cooking all the afternoon, and I hope that you two boys have had enough exercise and excitement to whet your appetites. How iss it?"
"We have, sir!" they replied together, and with emphasis.
"And now to your old room. You'll find there in a closet clothes for both of you, Tayoga's of his own kind, that Caterina has preserved carefully, and at six o'clock come in to supper, which to-day iss to be our chief meal. I would not have Benjamin Hardy to come all the way from New York and say that I failed to set for him as good a meal as he would set for me if I were his guest in his city. Not only my hospitality but the hospitality of Albany iss at stake."
"I know, sir, that your reputation will not suffer," said Robert with great confidence.
He and Tayoga in their room found their clothes preserved in camphor and quickly made the change. Then they stood by the window, looking out on the pleasant domain, in which they had spent so many happy hours. Both felt a glow.
"Master Jacobus Huysman is a good man," said Robert.
"A wise, fat chief," said the Onondaga. "A kind heart and a strong head. He is worthy to rule. If he belonged to the league of the Hodenosaunee we would put him in a high place."
"Though he holds no office, I think he sits in a high place here. It is likely that the men who were around the table to-day came to him for counsel."
"It seems a good guess to me, Dagaeoga. Perhaps they take measures to meet the threat of Montcalm."
"They're our elders, and we'll let them do the thinking on that point just now. Somehow, I feel light of heart, Tayoga, and I want to enjoy myself."
"Even though the slaver and the spy are here, and we all believe that they threaten you?"
"Even so. My heart is light, nevertheless. My mind tells me that I ought to be apprehensive and sad, but my heart has taken control and I am hopeful and gay?"
"It is the nature of Dagaeoga, and he should give thanks to Manitou that he has been made that way. It is worth much more to him than the white man's gold."
"I _am_ thankful, Tayoga. I'm thankful for a lot of things. How does this coat look on me?"
"It is small. You have grown much in the last year or two. Your frame is filling out and you are bigger every way. Still, it is a fine coat, and the knee breeches, stockings and buckled shoes are very splendid. If Dagaeoga does not look like a chief it is only because he is not old enough, and he at least looks like the son of a chief."
Robert contemplated himself in a small mirror with much satisfaction.
"I'm frightfully tanned," he said. "Perhaps they wouldn't take me for a model of fashion in Paris or London, but here nearly everybody else is tanned also, and, after all, it's healthy."
The Onondaga regarded him with an amused smile.
"If Dagaeoga had the time and money he would spend much of both on dress," he said. "He loves to make a fine appearance."
"You say nothing but the truth," said Robert frankly. "I hope some day to have the very best clothes that are made. A man who respects his clothes respects himself. I know no sin in trying to please the eyes of others and incidentally myself. I note, Tayoga, that on occasion you array yourself with great splendor, and that, at all times, you're very particular about your attire."
"It is so, Dagaeoga. I spoke in terms of approval, not of criticism. Are you satisfied with yourself?"
"As much as possible under the circumstances. If I could achieve the change merely by making a wish I'd have the coat and breeches of a somewhat richer hue, and the buckles on the shoes considerably larger, but they'll do. Shall we sit here and rest until Caterina calls us for supper?"
"I think so, Dagaeoga."
But it was not long until the summons came, and they went into the great dining-room, where the elder company was already gathered. Besides Mr. Huysman, Benjamin Hardy, Jonathan Pillsbury, and Alexander McLean, there were Nicholas Ten Broeck and Oliver Suydam, two of Albany's most solid burghers, and Alan Hervey, another visitor from New York, a thin man of middle years and shrewd looks, whom Robert took to be a figure in finance and trade. All the elders seemed to know one another well, and to be on the best of terms.
Robert and Tayoga were presented duly, and made their modest acknowledgments, sitting together near the end of the table.
"These lads, young as they are," said Master Jacobus Huysman, "have had much experience of the present war. One of them was a prisoner of the French at Ticonderoga and saw the whole battle, while the other fought in it. Before that they were in innumerable encounters and other perils, usually with the great hunter, David Willet, of whom you all know, and who, I regret, is not here."
"It is no more than thousands of others have done," said Robert, blushing under his tan.
Hervey regarded him and Tayoga with interest. The Onondaga was in full Indian dress, but Albany was used to the Iroquois, and that fact was not at all exceptional.
"War is a terrible thing," he said, "and whether a nation is or is not to endure depends very much upon its youth."
"We always think that present youth is inferior to what our own youth was," said Mr. Hardy. "That, I believe, is a common human failing. But Master McLean ought to know. Forty years of youth, year after year have passed through his hands. What say you, Alexander?"
"Youth is youth," replied the schoolmaster, weighing his sentences, "and by those words I mean exactly what I say. I think it changes but little through all the ages, and it is probably the same to-day that it was in old Babylon. I find in my schoolroom that the youth of this year is just like the youth of ten years ago, just as the youth of ten years ago was exactly like the youth of twenty, thirty and forty years ago."
"And what are the cardinal points of this formative age, Alexander?" asked Master Jacobus.
"Speaking mildly, I would call it concentration upon self. The horizon of youth is bounded by its own eye. It looks no farther. As it sees and feels it, the world exists for youth. We elders, parents, uncles, guardians and such, live for its benefit. We are merely accessories to the great and main fact, which is youth."
"Do you believe that to be true, Robert?" asked Master Benjamin Hardy, a twinkle in his eye.
"I hope it's not, sir," replied Robert, reddening again under his tan.
"But it's true and it will remain true," continued the schoolmaster judicially. "It was equally true of all of us who passed our youth long ago. I do not quarrel with it. I merely state a fact of life. Perhaps if I could I would not strip youth of this unconscious absorption in self, because in doing so we might deprive it of the simplicity and directness, the artless beliefs that make youth so attractive."
"I hold," said Mr. Hervey, "that age is really a state of mind. We believe certain things at twenty, others at thirty, others at forty, and so on. The beliefs of twenty are true at twenty, we must not try them by the tests of thirty, nor must we try those of thirty by the tests of forty or fifty. So how are we to say which age is the wiser, when every age accepts as true what it believes, and, so makes it true? I agree, too, with Mr. McLean, that I would not change the character of youth if I could. Looking back upon my own youth I find much in it to laugh at, but I did not laugh at it at the time. It was very real to me then, and so must its feelings be to the youth of to-day."
"We wade into deep waters," said Mynheer Jacobus, "and we may go over our heads. Ah, here are the oysters! I hope that all of you will find them to your liking."
A dozen were served for every guest--it was the day of plenty, the fields and woods and waters of America furnishing more food than its people could consume--and they approached them with the keen appetites of strong and healthy men.
"Perhaps we do not have the sea food here that you have in New York, Alan," said Master Jacobus with mock humility, "but we give you of our best."
"We've the finest oysters in the world, unless those of Baltimore be excepted," said Hervey, "but yours are, in truth, most excellent. Perhaps you can't expect to equal us in a specialty of ours. You'll recall old Tom Cotton's inn, out by the East River, and how unapproachably he serves oyster, crab, lobster and every kind of fish."
"I recall it full well, Alan. I rode out the Bowery road when I was last in New York, but I did not get a chance to go to old Tom's. You and I and Benjamin have seen some lively times there, when we were a bit younger, eh, Alan?"
"Aye, Jacobus, you speak truly. We were just as much concentrated upon self as the youth of to-day. And in our elderly hearts we're proud of the little frivolities and dissipations that were committed then. Else we would never talk of 'em and chuckle over 'em to one another."
"And what is more, we're not too old yet for a little taste of pleasure, now and then, eh, Alexander?"
The schoolmaster, appealed to so directly, pursed his thin lips, lowered his lids to hide the faint twinkle in his eyes, and replied in measured tones:
"I cannot speak for you, Jacobus. I've known you a long time and your example is corrupting, but I trust that I shall prove firm against temptation."
The oysters were finished. No man left a single one untouched on his plate, and then a thick chicken soup was served by two very black women in gay cotton prints with red bandanna handkerchiefs tied like turbans around their heads. Robert could see no diminution in the appetite of the guests, nor did he feel any decrease in his own. Mr. Hervey turned to him.
"I hear you saw the Marquis de Montcalm himself," he said.
"Yes, sir," replied Robert. "I saw him several times, at Ticonderoga, and before that in the Oswego campaign. I've been twice a prisoner of the French."
"How does he look?"
"Of middle age, sir, short, dark and very polite in speech."
"And evidently a good soldier. He has proved that and to our misfortune. Yet, I cannot but think that we will produce his master. Now, I wonder who it is going to be. Under the English system the best general does not always come forward first, and perhaps we've not yet so much as heard the name of the man who is going to beat Montcalm. That he will be beaten I've no doubt. We'll conquer Canada and settle North American affairs for all time. Perhaps it will be the last great war."
Robert was listening with the closest attention, and it seemed to him that the New Yorker was right. With Canada conquered and the French power expelled it would be the last great war so far as North America was concerned? How fallible men are! How prone they are to think when they have settled things for themselves they have settled them also for all future generations!
"And then," continued Mr. Hervey, "New York will become a yet greater port than it now is. It may even hope to rival Philadelphia in size and wealth. It will be London's greatest feeder."
The soup, not neglected in the least, gave way to fish, and then to many kinds of meat, in which game, bear, deer and wild fowl were conspicuous. Robert took a little of everything, but he was absorbed in the talk. He felt that these men were in touch with great affairs, and, however much they diverged from such subjects they had them most at heart. It was a thrilling thought that the future of North America, in some degree at least, might be determined around that very table at which he was sitting as a guest. He had knowledge and imagination enough to understand that it was not the armies that determined the fate of nations, but the men directing them who stood behind them farther back, in the dark perhaps, obscure, maybe never to become fully known, but clairvoyant and powerful just the same. He was resolved not to lose a word. So he leaned forward just a little in his seat, and his blue eyes sparkled.
"Dagaeoga is glad to be here," said Tayoga in an undertone.
"So I am, Tayoga. They talk of things of which I wish to hear."
"As I told you, these be sachems with whom we sit. They be not chiefs who lead in battle, but, like the sachems, they plan, and, like the medicine men, they make charms and incantations that influence the souls of the warriors and also the souls of those who lead them to battle."
"The same thought was in my own mind."
Wine smuggled from France or Spain was served to the men, though young Lennox and the Onondaga touched none. In truth, it was not offered to them, Master Jacobus saying, with a glance at Robert:
"I have never allowed you and Tayoga to have anything stronger than coffee in my house, and although you are no longer under my charge I intend to keep to the rule."
"We wish nothing more, sir," said Robert.
"As for me," said the Onondaga, "I shall never touch any kind of liquor. I know that it goes ill with my race."
"Yours, I understand, is the Onondaga nation," said Mr. Hervey, looking at him attentively.
"The Onondaga, and I belong to the clan of the Bear," replied Tayoga proudly. "The Hodenosaunee have held the balance in this war."
"That I know full well. I gladly give the great League ample credit. It has been a wise policy of the English to deal honestly and fairly with your people. In general the French surpass us in winning and holding the affections of the native races, but some good angel has directed us in our dealings with the Six Nations. Without their Indians the French could have done little against us. I hear of one of their leaders who has endeared himself to them in the most remarkable manner. There has been much talk in New York of the Chevalier de St. Luc, and being nearer the seat of action you've perhaps heard some of it here in Albany, Jacobus!"
Robert leaned a little farther forward and concentrated every faculty on the talk, but he said nothing.
"Yes, we've heard much of him, Alan," replied Master Jacobus. "I think he's the most dangerous foe that we have among Montcalm's lieutenants. He passes like a flame along the border, and yet report speaks well of him, too. All our men who have come in contact with him say he is a gallant and chivalrous foe."
Robert glanced at Master Benjamin Hardy, but the great merchant's face was blank.
"Robert saw him, too, when he was a prisoner among the French," said Mr. Huysman.
Mr. Hervey looked at Robert, who said:
"I saw him several times at Ticonderoga, where he was the chief adviser of Montcalm during the battle, and I've seen him often elsewhere. All that they say about him is true. He's a master of forest warfare, and his following is devoted."
He glanced again at Benjamin Hardy, but the New Yorker was helping himself to an especially tender bit of venison and his face expressed nothing but appreciation of his food. Robert sighed under his breath. They would never do more than generalize about St. Luc. Tayoga and he asked presently to be excused. The men would sit much longer over their nuts and wine, and doubtless when the lads were gone they would enter more deeply into those plans and ventures that lay so near their hearts.
"I think I shall wander among the trees behind the house," said Tayoga, when they were out of the dining-room. "I want fresh air, and I wish to hear the wind blowing among the leaves. Then I can fancy that I am back in the great forest, and my soul will be in peace."
"And commune, perhaps, with Tododaho on his star," said Robert, not lightly but in all seriousness.
"Even so, Dagaeoga. He may have something to tell me, but if he does not it is well to be alone for a while."
"I won't let you be alone just yet, because I'm going out with you, but I don't mean to stay long, and then you can commune with your own soul."
It was a beautiful night, cooled by a breeze which came crisp and strong from the hills, rustling through the foliage, already beginning to take on the tints of early autumn. After the warm room and many courses of food it was very grateful to the two lads who stood under the trees listening to the pleasant song of the breeze. But in five minutes Robert said:
"I'm going back into the house now, Tayoga. I can see your star in the clear heavens, and perhaps Tododaho will speak to you."
"I shall see. Farewell for an hour, Dagaeoga."
Robert went in. _