Part 9 (1/2)

”You're correct in a.s.suming that my name is Wilton,” said the young lieutenant. ”I'm William Wilton, of Philadelphia, and I beg to present my second in command, Hugh Carson, of the same city.”

He looked questioningly at Robert, who promptly responded:

”My name is Lennox, Robert Lennox, and I can claim either Albany or New York as a home.”

”I think I've heard of you,” said Wilton. ”A rumor came to Philadelphia about a man of that name going to Quebec on an errand for the governor of New York.”

”I was the messenger,” said Robert, ”but since the mission was a failure it may as well be forgotten.”

”But it will not be forgotten. I've heard that you bore yourself with great judgment and address. Nevertheless, if your modesty forbids the subject we'll come back to another more pressing. What did you mean when you said Captain Colden's delay was due to the solution of a vexing problem?”

”It had to do with Indians, who you say are not to be found in these forests. I could not help overhearing you, as I approached your camp.”

Wilton reddened and then his generous impulse and sense of truth came to his aid.

”I'll admit that I'm careless and that my knowledge may be small!” he exclaimed. ”But tell me the facts, Mr. Lennox. I judge by your face that events of grave importance have occurred.”

”Captain Colden, far east of this point, was attacked by a strong force of French and Indians under the renowned partisan leader, St. Luc. Tayoga, David Willet, the hunter, the famous ranger Black Rifle and I were able to warn him and give him some help, but even then we should have been overborne and destroyed had not a Mohawk chief, Daganoweda, and a formidable band come to our aid. United, we defeated St. Luc and drove him northward. Captain Colden lost several of his men, but with the rest he is now marching to the junction with you.”

Wilton's face turned gray, but in a moment or two his eyes brightened.

”Then a special Providence has been watching over us,” he said. ”We haven't seen or heard of an Indian.”

His tone was one of mingled relief and humor, and Robert could not keep from laughing.

”At all events,” he said, ”you are safe for the present. I'll remain with you while Tayoga goes back for Captain Colden.”

”If you'll be so good,” said Wilton, who did not forget his manners, despite the circ.u.mstances. ”I've begun to feel that we have more eyes, or at least better ones, with you among us. Where is that Indian? You don't mean to say he's gone?”

Robert laughed again. Tayoga, after his fas.h.i.+on, had vanished in silence.

”He's well on his way to Captain Colden now,” he said, exaggerating a little for the sake of effect. ”He'll be a great chief some day, and meanwhile he's the fastest runner in the whole Six Nations.”

Colden and his troop arrived soon, and the two little commands were united, to the great joy of all. Lieutenant Wilton had pa.s.sed from the extreme of confidence to the utmost distrust. Where it had not been possible for an Indian to exist he now saw a scalplock in every bush.

”On my honor,” he said to Colden, ”James, I was never before in my life so happy to see you. I'm glad you have the entire command now. As Mr. Lennox said, Providence saved me so far, but perhaps it wouldn't lend a helping hand any longer.”

The pack horses carried surgical supplies for the wounded, and Willet and Black Rifle were skillful in using them. All of the hurt, they were sure would be well again within a week, and there was little to mar the general feeling of high spirits that prevailed in the camp. Wilton and Carson were lads of mettle, full of talk of Philadelphia, then the greatest city in the British Colonies, and related to most of its leading families, as was Colden too, his family being a branch of the New York family of that name. Robert was at home with them at once, and they were eager to hear from him about Quebec and the latest fas.h.i.+ons of the French, already the arbiters of fas.h.i.+on, and recognized as such, despite the war between them, by English and Americans.

”I had hoped to go to Quebec myself,” said Wilton reflectively, ”but I suppose it's a visit that's delayed for a long time now.”

”How does it happen that you, a Quaker, are second in command here?”

asked Robert.

”It must be the belligerency repressed through three or four generations and breaking out at last in me,” replied Wilton, his eyes twinkling. ”I suppose there's just so much fighting in every family, and if three or four generations in succession are peaceful the next that follows is likely to be full of warlike fury. So, as soon as the war began I started for it. It's not inherent in me. As I said, it's the confined ardor of generations bursting forth suddenly in my person. I'm not an active agent. I'm merely an instrument.”

”It was the same warlike fury that caused you to come here, build your fire and set no watch, expecting the woods to be as peaceful as Philadelphia?” said Colden.

Wilton colored.