“Has he business also with Major Lockwood?”

“He has indeed.  You will learn presently that the Sagamore came by North Castle, and that the roads south of the church are full of riders—­ hundreds of them—­ in jack-boots and helmets.”

“Were their jackets red?”

“He could not tell.  They were too closely cloaked,”

“Colonel Moylan’s dragoons?” I said anxiously.  “Do you think so?”

“The Sagamore did not think so, and dared not ask, but started instantly cross-country with the information.  I had been waiting to intercept him and bring him here to you, as I promised you, but missed him on the Bedford road, where he should have passed.  Therefore, I hastened hither to confess to you my failure, and chanced to overtake him but a moment since, as he crossed the dooryard yonder.”

Even in my growing anxiety, I was conscious of the faithfulness that this poor girl had displayed—­ this ragged child who had stood in the storm all night long on the Bedford road to intercept the Indian.  Faithful, indeed!  For, having missed him, she had made her way here on foot merely to tell me that she could not keep her word to me.

“Has the Sagamore spoken with Colonel Sheldon?” I asked gently.

“I do not know.”

“Will you tarry here till I return?”

“Have you further use of me, Mr. Loskiel’”

Her direct simplicity checked me.  After all, now that she had done her errand, what further use had I for her?  I did not even know why I had asked her to tarry here until my return; and searched my mind seeking the reason.  For it must have been that I had some good reason in my mind.

“Why, yes,” I said, scarce knowing why, “I have further use for you.  Tarry for a moment and I shall return.  And,” I added mentally, “by that time I shall have discovered the reason.”

She said nothing; I hastened back to the house, where even from the outside I could hear the loud voice of Sheldon vowing that if what this Indian said were true, the cavalry he had discovered at North Castle must be Moylan’s and no other.

I entered and listened a moment to Major Lockwood, urging this obstinate man to send out his patrols; then I walked over to the window where Boyd stood in whispered consultation with an Indian.

The savage towered at least six feet in his soaking moccasins; he wore neither lock nor plume, nor paint of any kind that I could see, carried neither gun nor blanket, nor even a hatchet.  There was only a heavy knife at the beaded girdle, which belted his hunting shirt and breeches of muddy tow-cloth.

As I approached them, the Mohican turned his head and shot a searching glance at me.  Boyd said: