“Why, as to that,” said he, “I had thought myself well enough equipped.  But as for a sword, ’tis true my hand is more familiar, these days, with the ax and gun.”

“The late Jessamy Law shows change in his capacity of renegade,” said Pembroke, raspingly.  His face displayed a scorn which jumped ill with the nature of the man before him.

“I am what I am, Sir Arthur,” said Law, “and what I was.  And always I am at any man’s service who is in search of what you call God’s justice, or what I may call personal satisfaction.  I doubt not we shall find my other trinkets in good order not far away.  But meantime, before you turn my hospitality into shame, bring on your men and follow me.”

His face working with emotion, Law turned away.  He caught up the body of the dead buck, and tossing it across his shoulders, strode up the winding pathway.

“Come, Gray, and Ellsworth,” said Pembroke.  “Get your men together.  We shall see what there is to this.”

At the summit of the river-bluff Law awaited their arrival.  He noted in silence the look of surprise which crossed Pembroke’s face as at length they came into view of the little panorama of the stockade and its surroundings.

“This is my home, Sir Arthur,” said he simply.  “These are my fields.  And see, if I mistake not, yonder is some proof of the ability of my people to care for themselves.”

He pointed to the gateway, from the loop-holes guarding which there might now be seen protruding two long dark barrels, leveled in the direction of the approaching party.  There came a call from within the palisade, and the sound of men running to take their places along the wall.  Law raised his hand, and the barrels of the guns were lowered.

“This, then, is your hiding-place!” said Pembroke.

“I call it not such.  ’Tis public to the world.”

“Tush!  You lack not in the least of your old conceit and assurance, Mr. Law!” said Pembroke.

“Nay, I lack not so much in assurance of myself,” said Law, “as in my patience, which I find, Sir Arthur, now begins to grow a bit short about its breath.  But since the courtesy of the trail demands somewhat, I say to you, there is my home.  Enter it as friend if you like, but if not, come as you please.  Did you indeed come bearing war, I should be obliged to signify to you, Sir Arthur, that you are my prisoner.  You see my people.”

“Sir,” replied Sir Arthur, blindly, “I have vowed to find you no matter where you should go.”

“It would seem that your vow is well fulfilled.  But now, since you deal in mysteries, I shall even ask you definitely, Sir Arthur, who and what are you?  Why do you come hither, and how shall we regard you?”

“I am, in the first place,” said Sir Arthur, “messenger of my Lord Bellomont, governor at Albany of our English colonies.  I add my chief errand, which has been to find Mr. Law, whom I would hold to an accounting.”