Part 12 (2/2)

”Let's try it,” I replied seriously, holding out my hand.

He took it with a chuckle, his boyish face wreathed in smiles. ”A purse from a magistrate here and there,” he muttered--”a Tory magistrate, overfat and proud--what harm, sir? And I never could abide fat magistrates, Mr. Renault,” he confided in a whisper. ”It is strange; you will scarce credit me, sir, when I tell you that when I'm near a magistrate, and particularly when he's fat, and the moon's low over the hills, why, my pistols leap from my belt of their own accord, and I must s.n.a.t.c.h them with both hands lest they go flying off like rockets and explode to do a harm to that same portly magistrate.”

”He does not mean all that,” said the Weasel, laying his wrinkled hand affectionately on Mount's great arm. ”He has served n.o.bly, sir, with Cresap and with Morgan.”

”But when I'm alone,” sighed Mount, ”I'm in very bad company, and mischief follows, sure as a headache follows a tavern revel. I do not mean to stop these magistrates, Mr. Renault, only they _will_ wander on the highway, under my very pistols, provoking 'em to fly out!” He looked at me and furtively licked the stem of his clay pipe.

”So you leave for the north to-night?” I asked, amused.

”Yes, sir. There's a certain Walter Butler in this town, arrived like a hen-hawk from the clouds, and peep! peep! we downy chicks must scurry to the forest, lad, or there'll be a fine show on the gallows yonder and two good rifles idle in the hills of Tryon.”

”You know Walter Butler?”

”Know him? Yes, sir. I had him at my mercy once--over my rifle-sights!

Ah, well--he rode away--and had it not been young Cardigan who stayed my trigger-finger--But let that pa.s.s, too. What is he here for?”

”To ask Sir Henry Clinton's sanction of a plan to burn New York and fling the army on West Point, while he and Sir John Johnson and Colonel Ross strike the grain country in the north and lay it and the frontier in ashes.”

There was a silence, then a quiet laugh from Mount.

”West Point is safe, I think,” he murmured.

”But Tryon?” urged the Weasel; ”how will it go with Tryon County, Jack?”

Another silence.

”We'd best be getting back to Willett,” said Mount quietly. ”As for me, my errand is done, and the strange, fishy smells of New York town stifle me. I'm stale and timid, and I like not the shape of the gallows yonder. My health requires the half-light of the woods, Mr. Renault, and the friendly shadows which lie at hand like rat-holes in a granary.

I've drunk all the ale at the Bull's-Head--weak stuff it was--and they've sent for more, but I can't wait. So we're off to the north to-night, friend, and we'll presently rinse our throats of this salt wind, which truly inspires a n.o.ble thirst, yet tells nothing to a nose made to sniff the inland breezes.”

He held out his hand, saying, ”So you can learn no news of this place called Thendara?”

”I may learn yet. Walter Butler said to-day that I knew it. Yet I can not recall anything save the name. Is it Delaware? And yet I know it must be Iroquois, too.”

”It might be Cayuga, for all I know,” he said. ”I never learned their cursed jargon and never mean to. My business is to stop their forest-loping--and I do when I can.” He spoke bitterly, like that certain cla.s.s of forest-runners who never spare an Indian, never understand that anything but evil can come of any blood but white. With them argument is lost, so I said nothing.

”Have you anything for Colonel Willett?” he asked, after a pause.

”Tell him that I sent despatches this very day. Tell him of Butler's visit here, and of his present plans. If I can learn where this Thendara lies I will write him at once. That is all, I think.”

I shook their hands, one by one.

”Have a care, sir,” warned the Weasel as we parted. ”This Walter Butler is a great villain, and, like all knaves, suspicious. If he once should harbor misgivings concerning you, he would never leave your trail until he had you at his mercy. We know him, Jack and I. And I say, G.o.d keep you from that man's enmity or suspicion. Good-by, Mr. Renault.”

I retained his hand, gazing earnestly into his faded, kindly eyes.

”Do you know aught reflecting on his honor?” I asked.

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