As I saluted, he said in a low voice that he preferred I should remain with the Mohican and Oneidas until the evening meal was over.  Which I took to indicate that any rum served to my Indians must be measured out by me.

So that night I supped with my red comrades in front of our bush-huts, instead of joining Colonel Dearborn’s mess.  And I was glad I did so; and I allowed them only a gill of rum.  After penning my report by the light of a very vile torch, and filing it at headquarters, I was so tired that I could scarce muster courage to write in my diary.  But I did, setting down the day’s events without shirking, though I yawned like a volcano at every pen-stroke.

Captains Franklin and Buell, in high spirits, came just as I finished, desiring to learn what I had to say of the road to Otsego; but when I informed them they went away looking far more serious than when they arrived.

A few minutes later I saw the scout march out, bound for Chemung—­ a small detachment of the 2nd Jersey, one Stockbridge Indian, and a Coureur-de-Bois in very elegant deerskin shirt and gorgeous leggins.  Captain Cummins led them.

As they left, Captain Dayton arrived to take me again to the General.  There was a throng of officers in the marquee when I was announced, but evidently by some preconcerted understanding all retired as soon as I entered.

When we were alone, the General very kindly pointed to a camp stool at his elbow and requested me to be seated; and for a little while he said nothing, but remained leaning with both elbows on his camp table, seeming to study space as though it were peopled with unpleasant pictures.

However, presently his symmetrical features recovered pleasantly from abstraction, and he said: 

“Mr. Loskiel, it is said of you that, except for the Oneida Sachem, Spenser, you are perhaps the most accomplished interpreter Guy Johnson employed.”

“No,” I said, “there are many better interpreters, my General, but few, perhaps, who understand the most intimate and social conditions of the Long House better than do I.”

“You are modest in your great knowledge, Mr. Loskiel.”

“No, General, only, knowing as much as I do, I also perceive how much more there is that I do not know.  Which makes me wary of committing myself too confidently, and has taught me that to vaunt one’s knowledge is a dangerous folly.”

General Sullivan laughed that frank, manly, and very winning laugh of his.  Then his features gradually became sombre again.

“Colonel Broadhead, at Fortress Pitt, sent you a supposed Wyandotte who might have been your undoing,” he said abruptly.  “He is a cautious officer, too, yet see how he was deceived!  Are you also likely to be deceived in any of your Indians?”

“No, sir.”

“Oh!  You are confident, then, in this matter!”

“As far as concerns the Indians now under my command.”