“Sluggard,” said the Onondaga.  “The French warships would capture you while you are still in the land of dreams.”

“We’ll find no French warships in the Hudson,” retorted Robert, “and as for sluggards, how long have you been on deck yourself, Tayoga?”

“Two minutes, but much may happen in two minutes.  Look, Dagaeoga, we come now into a land of plenty.  See, how many smokes rise on either shore, and the smoke is not of camps, but of houses.”

“It comes from strong Dutch farmhouses, and from English manor houses, Tayoga.  They nestle in the warm shelter of the hills or at the mouths of the creeks.  Surely, the world cannot furnish a nobler scene.”

All the earth was pure white from the fallen snow, but the river itself was a deep blue, reflected from the dazzling blue of the sky overhead.  The air, thin and cold, was exhilarating, and as the sloop fled southward a panorama, increasing continually in magnificence, unfolded before them.  Other vessels appeared upon the river, and Captain Van Zouten gave them friendly signals.  Tiny villages showed and the shores were an obvious manifestation of comfort and opulence.

“I have heard that the French, if their success continues, mean to attack Albany,” said Robert, “but we must stop them there, Dave.  We can never let them invade such a region as this.”

“They’ll invade it, nevertheless,” said the hunter, “unless stout arms and brave hearts stop them.  We can drive both French and Indians back, if we ever unite.  There lies the trouble.  We must get some sort of concentrated action.”

“And New York is the best place to see whether it will be done or not.”

“So it is.”

The wind remained favorable all that day, the next night there was a calm, but the following day they drew near to New York, Captain Van Zouten assuring them he would make a landing before sunset.

He was well ahead of his promise, because the sun was high in the heavens when the sloop began to pass the high, wooded hills that lie at the upper end of Manhattan Island, and they drew in to their anchorage near the Battery.  They did not see the stone government buildings that had marked Quebec, nor the numerous signs of a fortress city, but they beheld more ships and more indications of a great industrial life.

“Every time I come here,” said Willet, “it seems to me that the masts increase in number.  Truly it is a good town, and an abundant life flows through it.”

“Where shall we stop, Dave?” asked Robert.  “Do you have a tavern in mind?”

“Not a tavern,” replied the hunter.  “My mind’s on a private house, belonging to a friend of mine.  You have not met him because he is at sea or in foreign parts most of the time.  Yet we are assured of a welcome.”

An hour later they said farewell to Captain Van Zouten, carried their own light baggage, and entered the streets of the port.