“This is Joseph Brant, the brother of Molly, my wife, and hence my young brother-in-law,” said Colonel Johnson.  “Joseph, our new friends are David Willet, known to the Hodenosaunee as the Great Bear, Robert Lennox, who seems to be in some sort a ward of Mr. Willet, and Tayoga, of the Clan of the Bear, of your great brother nation, Onondaga.”

Young Thayendanegea saluted them all in a friendly but dignified way.  He, like Tayoga, had a white education, and spoke perfect, but measured English.

“We welcome you,” he said.  “Colonel Johnson, sir, my sister has already seen the strangers from the hill, and is anxious to greet them.”

“Molly, for all her dignity, has her fair share of curiosity,” laughed Colonel Johnson, “and since it’s our duty to gratify it, we’ll go forward.”

Robert had heard often of Molly Brant, the famous Mohawk wife of Colonel, afterward Sir William Johnson, a great figure in that region in her time, and he was eager to see her.  He beheld a woman, young, tall, a face decidedly Iroquois, but handsome and lofty.  She wore the dress of the white people, and it was of fine material.  She obviously had some of the distinguished character that had already set its seal upon her young brother, then known as Keghneghtada, his famous name of Thayendanegea to come later.  Her husband presented the three, and she received them in turn in a manner that was quiet and dignified, although Robert could see her examining them with swift Indian eyes that missed nothing.  And with his knowledge of both white heart and red heart, of white manner and red manner, he was aware that he stood in the presence of a great lady, a great lady who fitted into her setting of the vast New York wilderness.  So, with the ornate manner of the day, he bent over and kissed her hand as he was presented.

“Madam,” he said, “it is a great pleasure to us to meet Colonel Johnson here in the forest, but we have the unexpected and still greater pleasure of meeting his lady also.”

Colonel Johnson laughed, and patted Robert on the shoulder.

“Mr. Willet has been whispering to me something about you,” he said.  “He has been telling me of your gift of speech, and by my faith, he has not told all of it.  You do address the ladies in a most graceful fashion, and Molly likes it.  I can see that.”

“Assuredly I do, sir,” said she who had been Molly Brant, the Mohawk, but who was now the wife of the greatest man in the north country.  “Tis a goodly youth and he speaks well.  I like him, and he shall have the best our house can offer.”

Colonel Johnson’s mellow laugh rang out again.

“Spoken like a woman of spirit, Molly,” he said.  “I expected none the less of you.  It’s in the blood of the Ganeagaono and had you answered otherwise you would have been unworthy of your cousin, Daganoweda, here.”

The young Mohawk chieftain smiled.  Johnson, who had married a girl of their race, could jest with the Mohawks almost as he pleased, and among themselves and among those whom they trusted the Indians were fond of joking and laughter.