and much admired, is, I happen to know, deeply in love with your son.  I have promised her that, if she will wait for him, I will bring him over in good time and act as your vicar at the wedding.  This, she and her mother are the more ready to do because of their superstition that God has clearly indicated him as the man who would bring her happiness and good fortune.  I find that many European women are apt to entertain and enjoy superstition and to believe in omens—­not the only drop of old pagan blood that lingers in their veins.  I am sending, by this boat, some more books for Jack to read.”

The other letter was from Margaret Hare to the boy, in which she had said that they were glad to learn that he and Mr. Binkus were friends of Captain Preston and inclined to help him in his trouble.  “Since I read your letter I am more in love with you than ever,” she had written.  “My father was pleased with it.  He thinks that all cause of complaint will be removed.  Until it is, I do not ask you to be a Tory, but only to be patient.”

Jack and Solomon were the whole day getting their horses across Van Deusen’s ferry and headed eastward in the rough road.  Mr. Binkus wore his hanger—­an old Damascus blade inherited from his father—­and carried his long musket and an abundant store of ammunition; Jack wore his two pistols, in the use of which he had become most expert.

When the horses had “got the kinks worked out,” as Solomon put it, and were a trifle tired, they browsed along quietly with the man and boy riding before and behind them.  By and by they struck into the twenty-mile bush beyond the valley farms.  In the second day of their travel they passed an Albany trader going east with small kegs of rum on a pack of horses and toward evening came to an Indian village.  They were both at the head of the herd.

“Stop,” said Solomon as they saw the smoke of the fires ahead.  “We got to behave proper.”

He put his hands to his mouth and shouted a loud halloo, which was quickly answered.  Then two old men came out to him and the talk which followed in the Mohawk dialect was thus reported by the scout to his companion: 

“We wish to see the chief,” said Solomon.  “We have gifts for him.”

“Come with us,” said one of the old men as they led Solomon to the Stranger’s House.  The old men went from hut to hut announcing the newcomers.  Victuals and pipes and tobacco were sent to the Stranger’s House for them.  This structure looked like a small barn and was made of rived spruce.  Inside, the chief sat on a pile of unthrashed wheat.  He had a head and face which reminded Jack of the old Roman emperors shown in the Historical Collections.  There was remarkable dignity in his deep-lined face.  His name was Thunder Tongue.  The house had no windows.  Many skins hung from its one cross-beam above their heads.

Mr. Binkus presented beaver skins and a handsome belt.  Then the chief sent out some women to watch the horses and to bring Jack into the village.  Near by were small fields of wheat and maize.  The two travelers sat down with the chief, who talked freely to Solomon Binkus.