THE WATCHER
It was with emotion that Robert came to Albany, an emotion that was
shared by his Onondaga comrade, Tayoga, who had spent a long time in a
white school there. The staid Dutch town was the great outpost of the
Province of New York in the wilderness, and although his temperament
was unlike that of the Dutch burghers he had innumerable pleasant
memories of it, and many friends there. It was, in his esteem, too, a
fine town, on its hills over-looking that noble river, the Hudson, and
as the little group rode on he noted that despite the war its
appearance was still peaceful and safe.
Their way led along the main street which was broad and with grass on
either side. The solid Dutch houses, with their gable ends to the
street, stood every one on its own lawn, with a garden behind
it. Every house also had a portico in front of it, on which the people
sat in summer evenings, or where they visited with one another. Except
that it was hills where the old country was flat, it was much like
Holland, and the people, keen and thrifty, had preserved their
national customs even unto the third and fourth generations. Robert
understood them as he understood the Hodenosaunce, and, with his
adaptable temperament, and with his mind that could understand so
readily the minds of others, he was able to meet them on common
ground. As they rode into the city he looked questioningly at Willet,
and the hunter, understanding the voiceless query, smiled.
"We couldn't think of going to any other place," he said. "If we did
we could never secure his forgiveness."
"I shall be more than glad to see him. A right good friend of ours,
isn't he, Tayoga?"
"Though his tongue lashes us his heart is with us," replied the
Onondaga. "He is a great white chief, three hundred pounds of
greatness."
They stopped before one of the largest of the brick houses, standing
on one of the widest and neatest of the lawns, and Robert and Tayoga,
entering the portico, knocked upon the door with a heavy brass
knocker. They heard presently the rattle of chains inside, and the
rumble of a deep, grumbling voice. Then the two lads looked at each
other and laughed, laughed in the careless, joyous way in which youth
alone can laugh.
"It is he, Mynheer Jacobus himself, come to let us in," said Robert.
"And he has not changed at all," said Tayoga. "We can tell that by
the character of his voice on the other side of the door."
"And I would not have him changed."
"Nor would I."
The door was thrown open, but as all the windows were closed there was
yet gloom inside. Presently something large, red and shining emerged
from the dusk and two beams of light in the center of the redness
played upon them. Then the outlines of a gigantic human figure, a man
tall and immensely stout, were disclosed. He wore a black suit with
knee breeches, thick stockings and buckled shoes, and his powdered
hair was tied in a queue. His eyes, dazzled at first by the light from
without, began to twinkle as he looked. Then a great blaze of joy
swept over his face, and he held out two fat hands, one to the white
youth and one to the red.
"Ah, it iss you, Robert, you scapegrace, and it iss you, Tayoga, you
wild Onondaga! It iss a glad day for me that you haf come, but I
thought you both dead, und well you might be, reckless, thoughtless
lads who haf not the thought uf the future in your minds."
Robert shook the fat hand in both of his and laughed.
"You are the same as of old, Mynheer Jacobus," he said, "and before
Tayoga and I saw you, but while we heard you, we agreed that there had
been no change, and that we did not want any."
"And why should I change, you two young rascals? Am I not goot enough
as I am? Haf I not in the past given the punishment to both uf you und
am I not able to do it again, tall and strong as the two uf you haf
grown? Ah, such foolish lads! Perhaps you haf been spared because pity
wass taken on your foolishness. But iss it Mynheer Willet beyond you?
That iss a man of sense."
"It's none other than Dave, Mynheer Jacobus," said Robert.
"Then why doesn't he come in?" exclaimed Mynheer Jacobus Huysman. "He
iss welcome here, doubly, triply welcome, und he knows it."
"Dave! Dave! Hurry!" called Robert, "or Mynheer Jacobus will chastise
you. He's so anxious to fall on your neck and welcome you that he
can't wait!"
Willet came swiftly up the brick walk, and the hands of the two big
men met in a warm clasp.
"You see I've brought the boys back to you again, Jacob," said the
hunter.
"But what reckless lads they've become," grumbled Mynheer Huysman. "I
can see the mischief in their eyes now. They wass bad enough when they
went to school here und lived with me, but since they've run wild in
the forests this house iss not able to hold them."
"Don't you worry, Jacob, old friend. These arms and shoulders of mine
are still strong, and if they make you trouble I will deal with
them. But we just stopped a minute to inquire into the state of your
health. Can you tell us which is now the best inn in Albany?"
The face of Mynheer Jacobus Huysman flamed, and his eyes blazed in the
center of it, two great red lights.
"Inn! Inn!" he roared in his queer mixture of English, Dutch and
German accent "Iss it that your head hass been struck by lightning und
you haf gone crazy? If there wass a thousand inns at Albany you und
Robert und Tayoga could not stop at one uf them. Iss not the house uf
Jacobus Huysman good enough for you?"
Robert, Tayoga and the hunter laughed aloud.
"He did but make game of you, Mynheer Jacobus," said Robert. "We will
alter your statement and say if there were a thousand inns in Albany
you could not make us stay at any one of them. Despite your commands
we would come directly to your house."
Mynheer Jacobus Huysman permitted himself to smile. But his voice
renewed its grumbling tone.
"Ever the same," he said. "You must stay here, although only the good
Lord himself knows in what condition my house will be when you
leave. You are two wild lads. It iss not so strange uf you, Robert
Lennox, who are white, but I would expect better uf Tayoga, who is to
be a great Onondaga chief some day."
"You make a great mistake, Mynheer Jacobus," said Robert. "Tayoga is
far worse than I am. All the mischief that I have ever done was due to
his example and persuasion. It is my misfortune that I have a weak
nature, and I am easily led into evil by my associates."
"It iss not so. You are equally bad. Bring in your baggage und I will
see if Caterina, der cook, cannot find enough for you three, who
always eat like raging lions."
The soldiers, who were to return immediately to Colonel William
Johnson, rode away with their horses, and Robert, Tayoga and Willet
took their packs into the house of Mynheer Huysman, who grumbled
incessantly while he and a manservant and a maidservant made them as
comfortable as possible.
"Would you und Tayoga like to haf your old room on the second floor?"
he said to Robert.
"Nothing would please us better," replied the lad.
"Then you shall haf it," said Mynheer, as he led the way up the stair
and into the room. "Do you remember, Tayoga, how wild you wass when
you came here to learn the good ways und bad ways uf the white
people?"
"I do," replied Tayoga, "and the walls and the roof felt oppressive to
me, although we have stout log houses of our own in our villages. But
they were not our own walls and our own roof, and there was the great
young warrior, Lennox, whom we now call Dagaeoga, who was to stay in
the same room and even in the same bed with me. Do you wonder that I
felt like climbing out of a window at night, and escaping into the
woods?"
"You were eleven then," said Robert, "and I was just a shade
younger. You were as strange to me as I was to you, and I thought, in
truth, that you were going to run away into the wilderness. But you
didn't, and you began to learn from books faster than I thought was
possible for one whose mind before then had been turned in another
direction."
"But you helped me, Dagaeoga. After our first and only battle in the
garden, which I think was a draw, we became allies."
"Und you united against me," said Mynheer Huysman.
"And you helped me with the books," continued Tayoga. "Ah, those first
months were hard, very hard!"
"And you taught me the use of the bow and arrow," continued Robert,
"and new skill in both fishing and hunting."
"Und the two uf you together learned new tricks und new ways uf making
my life miserable," grumbled Mynheer Huysman.
"But you must admit, Jacob," said Willet, "that they were not the
worst boys in the world."
"Well, not the worst, perhaps, David, because I don't know all the
boys uf all the countries in the world, but when you put an Onondaga
lad und an American lad together in alliance it iss hard to find any
one who can excel them, because they haf the mischief uf two nations."
"But you are tremendously glad to see them again, Jacob. Don't deny
it. I read it over and over again in your eyes."
Willet's own eyes twinkled as he spoke, and he saw also that there was
a light in those of the big Dutchman. But Huysman would admit
nothing.
"Here iss your room," he said to Robert and Tayoga.
Robert saw that it was not changed. All the old, familiar objects were
there, and they brought to him a rush of emotion, as inanimate things
often do. On a heavy mahogany dresser lay two worn volumes that he
touched affectionately. One was his Caesar and the other his
algebra. Once he had hated both, but now he thought of them tenderly
as links with, the peaceful boyhood that was slipping away. Hanging
from a hook on the wall was an unstrung bow, the first weapon of the
kind with which he had practiced under the teaching of Tayoga. He
passed his hand over it gently and felt a thrill at the touch of the
wood.
Tayoga, also was moving about the room. On a small shelf lay an
English dictionary and several readers. They too were worn. He had
spent many a grieving hour over them when he had come from the
Iroquois forests to learn the white man's lore. He recalled how he had
hated them for a time, and how he had looked out of his school windows
at the freedom for which he had longed. But he was made of wrought
steel, both mind and body, and always the white youth, Lennox, his
comrade, was at his elbow in those days of his scholastic infancy to
help him. It had been a great episode in the life of Tayoga, who had
the intellect of a mighty chief, the mind of Pontiac or Thayendanegea,
or Tecumseh, or Sequoia. He had forced himself to learn and in
learning his books he had learned also to like the people of another
race around him who were good to him and who helped him in the first
hard days on the new road. So the young Onondaga felt an emotion much
like that of Robert as he walked about the room and touched the old
familiar things. Then he turned to Huysman.
"Mynheer Jacobus," he said, "you have a mighty body, and you have in
it a great heart. If all the men at Albany were like you there would
never be any trouble between them and the Hodenosaunee."
"Tayoga," said Huysman, "you haf borrowed Robert's tongue to cozen und
flatter. I haf not a great heart at all. I haf a very bad heart. I
could not get on in this world if I didn't."
Tayoga laughed musically, and Mynheer Jacobus gruffly bidding them not
to destroy anything, while he was gone, departed to see that Caterina,
the Dutch cook, fat like her master, should have ready a dinner,
drawing upon every resource of his ample larder. It is but truth to
say that the heart of Mynheer Jacobus was very full. A fat old
bachelor, with no near kin, his heart yearned over the two lads who
had spent so long a period in his home, and he knew them, too, for
what they were, each a fine flower of his own racial stock.
They were to remain several days in Albany, and after dinner they
visited Alexander McLean, the crusty teacher who had given them such a
severe drilling in their books. Master McLean allowed himself a few
brief expressions of pleasure when they came into his house, and then
questioned them sharply:
"Do you remember any of your ancient history, Tayoga?" he asked. "Are
the great deeds of the Greeks and Romans still in your mind?"
"At times they are, sir," replied the young Onondaga.
"Um-m. Is that so? What was the date of the battle of Zama?"
"It was fought 202 B.C., sir."
"You're correct, but it must have been only a lucky guess. I'll try
you again. What was the date of the battle of Hastings?"
"It was fought 1066 A.D., sir."
"Very good. Since you have answered correctly twice it must be
knowledge and not mere surmise on your part. Robert, whom do you
esteem the greatest of the Greek dramatic poets?"
"Sophocles, sir."
"Why?"
"Because he combined the vigor and power of Aeschylus with the polish
and refinement of Euripides."
"Correct. I see that you remember what I told you, as you have quoted
almost my exact words. And now, lads, be seated, while I order
refreshments for you."
"We thank you, sir," said Robert, "but 'tis less than an hour since we
almost ate ourselves to death at the house of Mynheer Jacobus
Huysman."
"A good man, Jacob, but too fat, and far too brusque in speech,
especially to the young. I'll warrant me he has been addressing
upbraiding words to you, finding fault, perhaps, with your manners and
your parts of speech."
The two youths hid their smiles.
"Mynheer Jacobus was very good to us," said Robert. "Just as you are,
Master McLean."
"I am not good to you, if you mean by it weakness and softness of
heart. Never spoil the young. Speak sternly to them all the time. Use
the strap and the rod freely upon them and you may make men of them."
Again Robert and Tayoga hid their smiles, but each knew that he had a
soft place in the heart of the crusty teacher, and they spent a
pleasant hour with him. That night they slept in their old room at
Mynheer Huysman's and two days later they and Willet went on board a
sloop for New York, where they intended to see Governor de
Lancey. Before they left many more alarming reports about the French
and Indians had come to Albany. They had made new ravages in the north
and west, and their power was spreading continually. France was
already helping her colonists. When would England help hers?
But Robert forgot all alarm in the pleasure of the voyage. It was a
good sloop, it had a stout Dutch captain, and with a favoring wind
they sped fast southward. Pride in the splendid river swelled in
Robert's soul and he and Tayoga, despite the cold, sat together on the
deck, watching the lofty shores and the distant mountains.
But Willet, anxious of mind, paced back and forth. He had seen much
at Albany that did not please him. The Indian Commissioners were
doing little to cement the alliance with the Hodenosaunee. The
Mohawks, alone of the great League, were giving aid against the
French. The others remained in their villages, keeping a strict
neutrality. That was well as far as it went, but the hunter had hoped
that all the members of the Hodenosaunee would take the field for the
English. He believed that Father Drouillard would soon be back among
the Onondagas, seeking to sway his converts to France, and he dreaded,
too, the activity and persistency of St. Luc.
But he kept his anxieties from Robert, knowing how eagerly the lad
anticipated his arrival in New York, and not blaming him at all for
it, since New York, although inferior in wealth, size and power to
Philadelphia, and in leadership to Boston, was already, in the eye of
the prophets, because of its situation, destined to become the first
city of America. And Willet felt his own pulses beat a little faster
at the thought of New York, a town that he knew well, and already a
port famous throughout the world.
Tayoga, although he wore his Indian dress, attracted no particular
attention from Captain Van Zouten and his crew. Indians could be seen
daily at Albany, and along the river, and they had been for
generations a part of American life. Captain Van Zouten, in truth,
noticed the height and fine bearing of the Onondaga, but he was a
close mouthed Dutchman, and if he felt like asking questions he put
due Dutch restraint upon himself.
The wind held good all day long, and the sloop flew southward, leaving
a long white trail in the blue water, but toward night it rose to a
gale, with heavy clouds that promised snow. Captain Hendrick Van
Zouten looked up with some anxiety at his sails, through which the
wind was now whistling, and, after a consultation with his mate,
decided to draw into a convenient cove and anchor for the night.
"I'm sorry," he said to Willet, "that our voyage to New York will be
delayed, but there'll be nasty weather on the river, and I don't like
to risk the sloop in it. But I didn't promise you that I'd get you to
the city at any particular time."
"We don't blame wind, weather and water upon you, Captain Van Zouten,"
laughed Willet, "and although I'm no seaman if you'd have consulted me
I too would have suggested shelter for the night."
Captain Van Zouten breathed his relief.
"If my passengers are satisfied," he said, "then so am I."
All the sails were furled, the sloop was anchored securely in a cove
where she could not injure herself, no matter how fiercely the wind
might beat, and Robert and Tayoga, wrapped in their fur cloaks, stood
on her deck, watching the advance of the fierce winter storm, and
remembering those other storms they had passed through on Lake
Champlain, although there was no danger of Indians here.
It began to snow heavily, and a fierce wind whistled among the
mountains behind them, lashing the river also into high waves, but the
sloop was a tight, strong craft, and it rocked but little in its snug
cove. Despite snow, wind and darkness Robert, Tayoga and the hunter
remained a long, time on deck. The Onondaga's feather headdress had
been replaced by a fur cap, similar to those now worn by Robert and
Willet, and all three were wrapped in heavy cloaks of furs.
Robert was still thinking of New York, a town that he knew to some
extent, and yet he was traveling toward it with a feeling akin to that
with which he had approached Quebec. It was in a way and for its time
a great port, in which many languages were spoken and to which many
ships came. Despite its inferiority in size it was already the chief
window through which the New World looked upon the Old. He expected
to see life in the seething little city at the mouth of the Hudson and
he expected also that a crisis in his fortunes would come there.
"Dave," he said to the hunter, "have you any plans for us in New
York?"
"They've not taken very definite shape," replied Willet, "but you know
you want to serve in the war, and so do I. A great expedition is
coming out from England, and in conjunction with a Colonial force it
will march against Fort Duquesne. The point to which that force
advances is bound to be the chief scene of action."
"And that, Dave, is where we want to go."
"With proper commissions in the army. We must maintain our dignity and
station, Robert."
"Of course, Dave. And you, Tayoga, are you willing to go with us?"
"It is far from the vale of Onondaga," replied the young Indian, "but
I have already made the great journey to Quebec with my comrades,
Dagaeoga and the Great Bear. I am willing to see more of the world of
which I read in the books at Albany. If the fortunes of Dagaeoga take
him on another long circle I am ready to go with him."
"Spoken like a warrior, Tayoga," said the hunter. "I have some
influence, and if we join the army that is to march against Fort
Duquesne I'll see that you receive a place befitting your Onondaga
rank and your quality as a man."
"And so that is settled," said Robert. "We three stand together no
matter what may come."
"Stand together it is, no matter what may come," said Willet.
"We are, perhaps, as well in one place as in another," said Tayoga
philosophically, "because wherever we may be Manitou holds us in the
hollow of his hand."
A great gust of wind came with a shriek down one of the gorges, and
the snow was whipped into their faces, blinding them for a moment.
"It is good to be aboard a stout sloop in such a storm," said Robert,
as he wiped his eyes clear. "It would be hard to live up there on
those cliffs in all this driving white winter."
A deep rumbling sound came back from the mountains, and he felt a
chill that was not of the cold creep into his bones.
"It is the wind in the deep gorges," said Tayoga, "but the winds
themselves are spirits and the mountains too are spirits. On such a
wild night as this they play together and the rumbling you hear is
their voices joined in laughter."
Robert's vivid mind as usual responded at once to Tayoga's imagery,
and his fancy went as far as that of the Onondaga, and perhaps
farther. He filled the air with spirits. They lined the edge of the
driving white storm. They flitted through every cleft and gorge, and
above every ridge and peak. They were on the river, and they rode upon
the waves that were pursuing one another over its surface. Then he
laughed a little at himself.
"My fancy is seeing innumerable figures for me," he said, "where my
eyes really see none. No human being is likely to be abroad on the
river on such a night as this."
"And yet my own eyes tell me that I do see a human being," said
Tayoga, "one that is living and breathing, with warm blood running in
his veins."
"A living, breathing man! where, Tayoga?"
"Look at the sloping cliff above us, there where the trees grow close
together. Notice the one with the boughs hanging low, and by the dark
trunk you will see the figure. It is a tall man with his hat drawn low
over his eyes, and a heavy cloak wrapped closely around his body."
"I see him now, Tayoga! What could a man want at such a place on such
a night? It must be a farmer out late, or perhaps a wandering hunter!"
"Nay, Dagaeoga, it is not a farmer, nor yet a wandering hunter. The
shoulders are set too squarely. The figure is too upright. And even
without these differences we would be sure that it is not the farmer,
nor yet the wandering hunter, because it is some one else whom we
know."
"What do you mean, Tayoga?"
"Look! Look closely, Dagaeoga!"
"Now the wind drives aside the white veil of snow and I see him
better. His figure is surely familiar!"
"Aye, Dagaeoga, it is! And do you not know him?"
"St. Luc! As sure as we live, Tayoga, it's St. Luc."
"Yes," said the hunter, who had not spoken hitherto. "It's St. Luc,
and I could reach him from here with a rifle shot."
"But you must not! You must not fire upon him!" exclaimed Robert.
Willet laughed.
"I wasn't thinking of doing so," he said. "And now it's too
late. St. Luc has gone."
The dark figure vanished from beside the trunk, and Robert saw only
the lofty slope, and the whirling snow. He passed his hands before his
eyes.
"Did we really see him?" he said.
"We beheld him alive and in the flesh," replied the hunter, "deep down
in His Britannic Majesty's province of New York."
"What could have brought him here at such a time?"
"The cause of France, no doubt. He speaks English as well as you and
I, and he is probably in civilian clothing, seeking information for
his country. I know something of St. Luc. He has in him a spice of the
daring and romantic. Luck and adventure would appeal to him. He
probably knows already what forces we have at Albany and Kingston and
what is their state of preparation. Valuable knowledge for Quebec,
too."
"Do you think St. Luc will venture to New York?"
"Scarce likely, lad. He can obtain about all he wishes to know without
going so far south."
"I'm glad of that, Dave. I shouldn't want him to be captured and
hanged as a spy."
"Nor I, Robert. St. Luc is the kind of man who, if he falls at all in
this war, should fall sword in hand on the battle field. He must know
this region or he would not dare to come here, on such a terrible
night. He has probably gone now to shelter. And, since there is
nothing more to be seen we might do the same."
But Robert and Tayoga were not willing to withdraw yet. Well wrapped
and warm, they found a pleasure in the fierce storm that raged among
the mountains and over the river, and their own security on the deck
of the stout sloop, fastened so safely in the little cove. They
listened to the wind rumbling anew like thunder through the deep
gorges and clefts, and they saw the snow swept in vast curtains of
white over the wild river.
"I wonder what we shall find in New York, Tayoga," said Robert.
"We shall find many people, of many kinds, Dagaeoga, but what will
happen to us there Manitou alone knows. But he has us in his
keeping. Look how he watched over us in Quebec, and look how the sword
of the Great Bear was stretched before you when your enemies planned
to slay you."
"That's true, Tayoga. I don't look forward to New York with any
apprehension, but I do wonder what fate has prepared for us there."
"We must await it with calm," said Tayoga philosophically.
The Onondaga himself was not a stranger to New York. He had gone there
once with the chiefs of the Hodenosaunee for a grand council with the
British and provincial authorities, and he had gone twice with Robert
when they were schoolboys together in Albany. His enlightened mind,
without losing any of its dignity and calm, took a deep interest in
everything he saw at the port, through which the tide of nations
already flowed. He had much of the quality shown later by the fiery
Thayendanegea, who bore himself with the best in London and who was
their equal in manners, though the Onondaga, while as brave and daring
as the Mohawk, was gentler and more spiritual, being, in truth, what
his mind and circumstances had made him, a singular blend of red and
white culture.
Willet, also wrapped in a long fur cloak, came from the cabin of the
sloop and looked at the two youths, each of whom had such a great
place in his heart. Both were white with snow as they stood on the
deck, but they did not seem to notice it.
"Come now," said the hunter with assumed brusqueness. "You needn't
stand here all night, looking at the river, the cliffs and the
storm. Off to your berths, both of you."
"Good advice, or rather command, Dave," said Robert, "and we'll obey
it."
Their quarters were narrow, because sloops plying on the river in
those days were not large, but the three who slept so often in the
forest were not seekers after luxury. Robert undressed, crept into his
bunk, which was not over two feet wide, and slept soundly until
morning. After midnight the violence of the storm abated. It was still
snowing, but Captain Van Zouten unfurled his sails, made for the
middle of the river, and, when the sun came up over the eastern hills,
the sloop was tearing along at a great rate for New York.
So when Robert awoke and heard the groaning of timbers and the creak
of cordage he knew at once that they were under way and he was
glad. The events of the night before passed rapidly through his mind,
but they seemed vague and indistinct. At first he thought the vision
of St. Luc on the cliff in the storm was but a dream, and he had to
make an effort of the will to convince himself that it was
reality. But everything came back presently, as vivid as it had been
when it occurred, and rising he dressed and went on deck. Tayoga and
Willet were already there.
"Sluggard," said the Onondaga. "The French warships would capture you
while you are still in the land of dreams."
"We'll find no French warships in the Hudson," retorted Robert, "and
as for sluggards, how long have you been on deck yourself, Tayoga?"
"Two minutes, but much may happen in two minutes. Look, Dagaeoga, we
come now into a land of plenty. See, how many smokes rise on either
shore, and the smoke is not of camps, but of houses."
"It comes from strong Dutch farmhouses, and from English manor houses,
Tayoga. They nestle in the warm shelter of the hills or at the mouths
of the creeks. Surely, the world cannot furnish a nobler scene."
All the earth was pure white from the fallen snow, but the river
itself was a deep blue, reflected from the dazzling blue of the sky
overhead. The air, thin and cold, was exhilarating, and as the sloop
fled southward a panorama, increasing continually in magnificence,
unfolded before them. Other vessels appeared upon the river, and
Captain Van Zouten gave them friendly signals. Tiny villages showed
and the shores were an obvious manifestation of comfort and opulence.
"I have heard that the French, if their success continues, mean to
attack Albany," said Robert, "but we must stop them there, Dave. We
can never let them invade such a region as this."
"They'll invade it, nevertheless," said the hunter, "unless stout arms
and brave hearts stop them. We can drive both French and Indians back,
if we ever unite. There lies the trouble. We must get some sort of
concentrated action."
"And New York is the best place to see whether it will be done or
not."
"So it is."
The wind remained favorable all that day, the next night there was a
calm, but the following day they drew near to New York, Captain Van
Zouten assuring them he would make a landing before sunset.
He was well ahead of his promise, because the sun was high in the
heavens when the sloop began to pass the high, wooded hills that lie
at the upper end of Manhattan Island, and they drew in to their
anchorage near the Battery. They did not see the stone government
buildings that had marked Quebec, nor the numerous signs of a fortress
city, but they beheld more ships and more indications of a great
industrial life.
"Every time I come here," said Willet, "it seems to me that the masts
increase in number. Truly it is a good town, and an abundant life
flows through it."
"Where shall we stop, Dave?" asked Robert. "Do you have a tavern in
mind?"
"Not a tavern," replied the hunter. "My mind's on a private house,
belonging to a friend of mine. You have not met him because he is at
sea or in foreign parts most of the time. Yet we are assured of a
welcome."
An hour later they said farewell to Captain Van Zouten, carried their
own light baggage, and entered the streets of the port.