Part 27 (1/2)
”He is, sir,” she responded in English as good as his own, ”though confined to his chair with a wound in the leg which makes his temper a trifle short at times.”
”Naturally. So would mine be if I couldn't walk. I wish to see him.”
”What name, sir, shall I say?”
”Tell him 'tis one who served with him in wilderness fighting, on the eve of Ticonderoga.”
She looked at him doubtfully, but her face cleared in a moment. Robert's frank, open gaze invited everybody's confidence.
”Come into the hall, sir,” she said, and then led the way from the hall into a large room opening upon a lawn, well-shaded by many fine, large trees. Elihu Strong sat in a chair before one of the windows, and his wounded leg, swathed heavily, reposed in another chair.
Robert paused, and his heart beat rather hard. This was the first friend of his old life that he had seen. Now, he was coming in reality back to his world. He stood a few moments, irresolute, and then advancing lightly he said:
”Good morning, Colonel Strong!”
The wounded man wheeled in his chair and looked at him, inquiry in his face. Robert did not know what changes his life on the island had made in his appearance, his expression rather, but he saw that Colonel Strong did not know him, and it pleased him to play for a minute or so with the fact.
”You did not receive this bullet, sir, when you saved us from St. Luc,”
he said. ”It must have been much later, but I know it was a bad moment for the Province of Ma.s.sachusetts when the hostile lead struck you.”
Colonel Strong stared.
”Who are you?” he exclaimed.
”There was a battle on the sh.o.r.es of Lake George, at a point where our men had been building boats. They were besieged by a mixed force of French and Indians, commanded by the great French partisan leader, St.
Luc. They beat off the attacks, but they would have been overcome in time, if you had not hurried to their relief, with a strong force and two bra.s.s cannon.”
”That is true and if the Governor and Legislature of Ma.s.sachusetts had done their full duty we'd have had twice as many men and four, six, or even eight cannon in place of two. But what do you know about those things?”
”There were two boys, one Indian and one white, who came on the lake, telling you of the plight of the boat builders. The Indian was Tayoga of the Clan of the Bear, of the Nation Onondaga, of the Great League of the Hodenosaunee, the finest trailer in the world. The white boy was Robert Lennox, of the Province of New York.”
”Aye, you speak truly. Full well do I remember them. How could I forget them? Tayoga is back there now with the hunter Willet, doing some great service in the war, what I know not, but it is something surely great.
The white boy, Robert Lennox, is dead. A great loss, too! A fine and gallant lad.”
”How do you know he is dead?”
”I had it in a letter from Master Benjamin Hardy of New York, with whom I often transact affairs of business, and he, in turn, had it from one Jacobus Huysman, a burgher of Albany in most excellent standing. Parts of the matter are obscure, but the result is certain. It seems that the lad was stalked by a spy, one Garay, and was murdered by him. His body, they think, was thrown into the Hudson and was carried away. At least it was never found. A most tragic business. I could have loved that lad as if he had been my own son. It caused great grief to both Hardy and Huysman,--and to me, too.”
A lump came into Robert's throat. He did have friends, many and powerful, and they mourned him. He seemed to have the faculty of inspiring liking wherever he went. He had been standing in the shadow, while the wounded man sat where the sunlight from the windows poured upon him. He moved a little nearer where he could be more clearly seen, and said:
”But what if I tell you that Robert Lennox is not dead, that he survived a most nefarious plot against him, that he was, in truth, kidnapped and carried far away to sea, but was rescued in a most remarkable manner and has come back to his own land.”
”'Tis impossible! 'Tis a wild tale, though G.o.d knows I wish it were true, because he was a fine and gallant lad.”
”'Tis a wild tale, sir, that I confess, but 'tis not impossible, for it has happened. I am that Robert Lennox who came with Tayoga, the Onondaga, in the canoe, through the fog on Lake George, to you, asking that you hurry to the relief of the boat builders! You will remember, sir, the fight at the ford, when they sought to ambush us, and how we routed them with the cannon. You'll recall how St. Luc drew off when we reached the boat builders. I've been away a long time, where every month counted as a year, and perhaps I've changed greatly, but I'm that same Robert Lennox to whom you said more than once that if the Governor and Legislature of the Province of Ma.s.sachusetts had done their full duty your force would have been three or four times as strong.”
”What? What? No stranger could know as much as you know! Come farther into the light, boy! The voice is nearly the same as I remember it, but the face has changed. You're older, graver, and there's a new look! But the eyes are like his! On my soul I believe it's Robert Lennox! Aye, I know 'tis Robert! Come, lad, and shake hands with me! I would go to you but this wretched wound holds me in my chair! Aye, boy, yours is the grasp of a strong and honest hand, and when I look into your eyes I know 'tis you, Robert, your very self. Sit you down and tell me how you have risen from the grave, and why you've come to comfort an old man with this most sudden and welcome news!”
The moisture rose in Robert's eyes. Truly he had friends, and not least among them was this thin, shrewd Bostonian. He drew a chair close to the colonel and spun the wonderful tale of his kidnapping, the sea fight, the wreck, the island and his rescue by the _Hawk_. Colonel Strong listened intently and seldom interrupted, but when Robert had finished he said: