“When I last saw you, Lennox, it was at the terrible forest fight, where we learned our bitter lesson.  I saw that you escaped, but I did not know what became of you afterward.”

“I’ve had adventures, and I’ll tell you of ’em later,” said Robert.  “Glad I am to see you, although I had not heard of your coming to Albany.”

“I arrived but this morning.  No British troops are here.  I understand this army is to be composed wholly of Colonials—­pardon the word, I use it for lack of a better—­and of Mohawks.  But I was able to secure in New York a detail on the staff of Colonel Johnson.  My position perhaps will be rather that of an observer and representative of the regular troops, but I hope, nevertheless, to be of some service.  I suppose I won’t see as much of you as I would like, as you’re likely to be off in the forest in front of the army with those scouting friends of yours.”

“It’s what we can do best,” said Robert, “but if there’s a victory ahead I hope we’ll all be present when it’s gained.”

Jacobus Huysman insisted that all his old friends be quartered with him, while they were in Albany, and as there was little at present for Grosvenor to do, he was added by arrangement with Colonel Johnson to the group.  They sat that evening on the portico in the summer dusk, and Master Alexander McLean, the schoolmaster, joined them, still regarding Robert and Tayoga as lads under his care, and soon including Grosvenor also.  But the talk was pleasant, and they were deep in it when a man passed in the street and a shadow fell upon them all.

It was Adrian Van Zoon, heavy, dressed richly as usual, and carrying a large cane, with a gold head.  To the casual eye he was a man of importance, aware of his dignity, and resolute in the maintenance of it.  He bowed with formal politeness to the group upon the portico, and walked majestically on.  Mynheer Jacobus watched him until he was out of sight, going presumably to his inn, and then his eyes began to search for another figure.  Presently it appeared, lank, long and tow-headed, the boy, Peter, of whom he had spoken.  Mynheer Huysman introduced him briefly to the others, and he responded, in every case, with a pull at a long lock on his forehead.  His superficial appearance was that of a simpleton, but Robert noticed sharp, observant eyes under the thick eyebrows.  Mynheer Jacobus, Willet and Master Hardy, excusing themselves for a few minutes, went into an inner room.

“What has Mynheer Van Zoon been doing, Peter?” asked Jacobus.

“He has talked with three contractors for the army,” replied the lad.  “He also had a short conversation with Colonel Ephraim Williams of the Massachusetts militia.”

“Williams is a thoroughly honest man,” said Mr. Hardy.  “His talk with Van Zoon could only have been on legitimate business.  We’ll dismiss him.  What more have you seen, Peter?”

“Late in the afternoon he went to his schooner, the Dirkhoeven, which is anchored in the river.  I could not follow him there, but I saw him speaking on the deck to a man who did not look like a sailor.  They were there only a minute, then they went into the cabin, and when Mynheer Van Zoon came ashore he came alone.”