“He spared you,” I said.

“That is his affair,” muttered Mount, striding on angrily.

“There speaks the obstinate white man, who can see no good in any savage,” whispered Dorothy.  “Nothing an Indian does is right or generous; these forest-runners hate them, distrust them, fear them—­though they may deny it—­and kill all they can.  And you may argue all day with an Indian-hater and have your trouble to pay you.  Yet I have heard that this man Mount is brave and generous to enemies of his own color.”

We had now come to the road in front of the house, and Mount set his cap rakishly on his head, straightened cape and baldrick, and ran his fingers through the gorgeous thrums rippling from sleeve and thigh.

“I’d barter a month’s pay for a pot o’ beer,” he said to me.  “I learned to drink serving with Cresap’s riflemen at the siege of Boston; a godless company, sir, for an innocent man to fall among.  But Morgan’s rifles are worse, Mr. Ormond; they drink no water save when it rains in their gin toddy.”

“Sir Lupus says you tried to join them,” said Dorothy, to plague him.

“So I did, Mistress Varick, so I did,” he stammered; “to break ’em o’ their habits, ma’am.  Trust me, if I had that corps I’d teach ’em to let spirits alone if I had to drink every drop in camp to keep ’em sober!”

“There’s beer in the buttery,” she said, laughing; “and if you smile at Tulip she’ll see you starve not.”

“Nobody,” said I, “goes thirsty or hungry at Varick Manor.”

“Indeed, no,” said Dorothy, much amused, as old Cato came down the path, hat in hand.  “Here, Cato! do you take Captain Mount and see that he is comfortable and that he lacks nothing.”

So, standing together in the stockade gateway, we watched Cato conducting Mount towards the quarters behind the guard-house, then walked on to meet the children, who came dancing down the driveway to greet us.

“Dorothy!  Dorothy!” cried Cecile, “we’ve shaved candles and waxed the library floors.  Lady Schuyler is here and the General and the Carmichael girls we knew at school, and their cousin, Maddaleen Dirck, and Christie McDonald and Marguerite Haldimand—­cousin to the Tory general in Canada—­and—­”

“I’m to walk a minuet with Madge Haldimand!” broke in Ruyven; “will you lend me your gold stock-buckle, Cousin Ormond?”

“I mean to dance, too,” cried Harry, crowding up to pluck my sleeve.  “Please, Cousin Ormond, lend me a lace handkerchief.”

“Paltz Clavarack, of the Half-moon Regiment, asked me to walk a minuet,” observed Cecile, tossing her head.  “I’m sure I don’t know what to say.  He’s so persistent.”

Benny’s clamor broke out:  “Thammy thtole papath betht thnuff-boxth!  Thammy thtole papath betht thnuff-boxth!”

“Sammy!” cried Dorothy, “what did you steal your father’s best snuff-box for?”

“I only desired to offer snuff to General Schuyler,” said Sammy, sullenly, amid a roar of laughter.