t any cost."

Van Schaick swore that I was a villain, and offered to run off with her
at the drop of her 'kerchief, but when I spoke seriously of the danger
at Albany, he sobered quickly enough, and we rode to the head of the
little column, now ready to move.

"March," I said briefly; and we started.

"I'll ride a little way with you," said the Colonel--"far enough to say
that when Joshua gave me your message on my return last night I sent my
orderly to find the wagon and animals and provision for three days'
march. You can make it in two if you like, or even in twenty-four
hours."

I thanked him and asked about the rumors which had so alarmed the
people in Albany; but he shook his head, saying he knew nothing except
that there were scalping parties out, and that he for one believed them
to be the advance of an invading force from Canada.

"You ask me where this sweet lady will be safest," he continued, "and I
answer that only God knows. Were I you, Carus, I should rather have her
near me; so if your duty takes you to Johnstown it may be best that she
remain with you until these rumors become definite. Then, it might be
well that she return to Albany and stay with friends like the
Schuylers, or the Van Rensselaers, or Colonel Hamilton's lady, if these
worthy folk deem it safe to remain."

"Have they gone?" I asked.

"They're preparing to go," he said gloomily. "Oh, Carus, when we had
Walter Butler safe in Albany jail in '78, why did we not hang him? He
was taken as a spy, tried, and properly condemned. I remember well how
he pretended illness, and how that tender-hearted young Marquis
Lafayette was touched by his plight, and begged that he be sent to
hospital in the comfortable house of some citizen. Ah, had we known
what that human tiger was meditating! Think of it, Carus! You knew him,
did you not, when he came a-courting Margaret Schuyler? Lord! who could
believe that Walter Butler would so soon be smeared with the blood of
women and children? Who could believe that this young man would so soon
be damned with the guilt of Cherry Valley?"

We rode on in silence. I dared not glance at Elsin; I found no pretext
to stop Van Schaick; and, still in perfect silence, we wheeled
northwest into the Schenectady road, where Peter took leave of us in
his own simple, hearty fashion, and wheeled about, galloping back up
the slope, followed by his jingling dragoons.

I turned to take my last look at the three hills and th