nd 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