loping cliff above us, there where the trees grow close
together. Notice the one with the boughs hanging low, and by the dark
trunk you will see the figure. It is a tall man with his hat drawn low
over his eyes, and a heavy cloak wrapped closely around his body."

"I see him now, Tayoga! What could a man want at such a place on such
a night? It must be a farmer out late, or perhaps a wandering hunter!"

"Nay, Dagaeoga, it is not a farmer, nor yet a wandering hunter. The
shoulders are set too squarely. The figure is too upright. And even
without these differences we would be sure that it is not the farmer,
nor yet the wandering hunter, because it is some one else whom we
know."

"What do you mean, Tayoga?"

"Look! Look closely, Dagaeoga!"

"Now the wind drives aside the white veil of snow and I see him
better. His figure is surely familiar!"

"Aye, Dagaeoga, it is! And do you not know him?"

"St. Luc! As sure as we live, Tayoga, it's St. Luc."

"Yes," said the hunter, who had not spoken hitherto. "It's St. Luc,
and I could reach him from here with a rifle shot."

"But you must not! You must not fire upon him!" exclaimed Robert.

Willet laughed.

"I wasn't thinking of doing so," he said. "And now it's too
late. St. Luc has gone."

The dark figure vanished from beside the trunk, and Robert saw only
the lofty slope, and the whirling snow. He passed his hands before his
eyes.

"Did we really see him?" he said.

"We beheld him alive and in the flesh," replied the hunter, "deep down
in His Britannic Majesty's province of New York."

"What could have brought him here at such a time?"

"The cause of France, no doubt. He speaks English as well as you and
I, and he is probably in civilian clothing, seeking information for
his country. I know something of St. Luc. He has in him a spice of the
daring and romantic. Luck and adventure would appeal to him. He
probably knows already what forces we have at Albany and Kingston and
what is their state of preparation. Valuable knowledge for Quebec,
too."

"Do you think St. Luc will venture to New York?"

"Scarce likely, lad. He can obtain about all he wishes to know without
going so far south."

"I'm glad of that, Dave. I shouldn't want him to be captured and
hanged as a spy."

"Nor I, Robert. St. Luc is the kind of man who, if he falls at all in
this war, should fall sword in hand on the battle field. He must know
this region or he would not dare to come here, o