“I wonder what we shall find in New York, Tayoga,” said Robert.

“We shall find many people, of many kinds, Dagaeoga, but what will happen to us there Manitou alone knows.  But he has us in his keeping.  Look how he watched over us in Quebec, and look how the sword of the Great Bear was stretched before you when your enemies planned to slay you.”

“That’s true, Tayoga.  I don’t look forward to New York with any apprehension, but I do wonder what fate has prepared for us there.”

“We must await it with calm,” said Tayoga philosophically.

The Onondaga himself was not a stranger to New York.  He had gone there once with the chiefs of the Hodenosaunee for a grand council with the British and provincial authorities, and he had gone twice with Robert when they were schoolboys together in Albany.  His enlightened mind, without losing any of its dignity and calm, took a deep interest in everything he saw at the port, through which the tide of nations already flowed.  He had much of the quality shown later by the fiery Thayendanegea, who bore himself with the best in London and who was their equal in manners, though the Onondaga, while as brave and daring as the Mohawk, was gentler and more spiritual, being, in truth, what his mind and circumstances had made him, a singular blend of red and white culture.

Willet, also wrapped in a long fur cloak, came from the cabin of the sloop and looked at the two youths, each of whom had such a great place in his heart.  Both were white with snow as they stood on the deck, but they did not seem to notice it.

“Come now,” said the hunter with assumed brusqueness.  “You needn’t stand here all night, looking at the river, the cliffs and the storm.  Off to your berths, both of you.”

“Good advice, or rather command, Dave,” said Robert, “and we’ll obey it.”

Their quarters were narrow, because sloops plying on the river in those days were not large, but the three who slept so often in the forest were not seekers after luxury.  Robert undressed, crept into his bunk, which was not over two feet wide, and slept soundly until morning.  After midnight the violence of the storm abated.  It was still snowing, but Captain Van Zouten unfurled his sails, made for the middle of the river, and, when the sun came up over the eastern hills, the sloop was tearing along at a great rate for New York.

So when Robert awoke and heard the groaning of timbers and the creak of cordage he knew at once that they were under way and he was glad.  The events of the night before passed rapidly through his mind, but they seemed vague and indistinct.  At first he thought the vision of St. Luc on the cliff in the storm was but a dream, and he had to make an effort of the will to convince himself that it was reality.  But everything came back presently, as vivid as it had been when it occurred, and rising he dressed and went on deck.  Tayoga and Willet were already there.