Part 79 (1/2)

Then I called out to the express: ”Say to the personage who sent you hither that his letter is destroyed, and his orders shall be instantly obeyed. Burke has fresh horses for those who ride express.”

Off downstairs he went in his jack-boots, equipments jingling and clanking, and I unfolded my map but scarce could hold it steady in my excitement.

Immediately I perceived that I did not need the map to find the rendezvous, for, as Brent-Meester, I had known that wilderness as perfectly as I knew the streets in Johnstown.

So I made another torch of the map, laughing under my breath to think that Sir William's late forest warden should require such an article.

All this time, too, I had forgotten Penelope; and turned, now, and saw her watching me, slim and motionless and white as snow.

When her eyes met mine she strove to smile, asking me whether indeed she had not proven a true prophetess.

As she spoke, suddenly a great fear possessed me concerning her; and I stood staring at her in a terrible perplexity.

For now there seemed to be nothing for it but to leave her here, the Schenectady road already being unsafe, or so considered by Schuyler until more certain information could be obtained.

”Do you leave tonight?” she asked calmly.

”Yes, immediately.”

She cast a glance at my rifle standing in the corner, and at my pack, which I had always ready in the event of such sudden summons.

Now I went over to the corner where my baggage lay, lifted the pack and strapped it; put on powder horn, bullet pouch, and sack, slung my knife and my light war-hatchet, and took my cap and rifle.

The moment of parting was here. It scared and confused me, so swiftly had it come upon us.

As I went toward her she turned and walked to the door, and leaned against the frame awaiting me.

”If trouble comes,” I muttered, ”the fort is strong.... But I wish to G.o.d you were in Albany.”

”I shall do well enough here.... Will you come again to Johnstown?”

”Yes. Good-bye.”

”Good-bye, John Drogue.”

”Will you care for Kaya?”

”Yes.”

”And if I do not return you are to have all with which I die possessed.

I have written it.”

”In that event I keep only my memory of you. The rest I offer to the needy--in your name.”

Her voice was steady, and her hand, too, where it lay pa.s.sive in mine.

But it crisped and caught my fingers convulsively when I kissed her; and crept up along my fringed sleeve to my shoulder-cape, and grasped the green thrums.

And now her arm lay tightly around my neck, and I looked down into the whitest face I ever had gazed upon.