ing and dancing
and much merry-making. One incident of it do I remember most
distinctly,--that having, with consummate generalship, cornered Mistress
Dorothy under a sprig of mistletoe, I suddenly found myself utterly
bereft of the courage to carry the matter to a conclusion, and allowed
her to escape unkissed, for which she laughed at me most unmercifully
once the danger was passed, though she had feigned the utmost indignation
while the assault threatened. So the holidays went and New Year's came.

It was the thirteenth of January, and in the dusk of the evening I was
riding back to the house as usual after my bout with Captain Paul, when I
heard far up the road behind me the beat of horse's hoofs. Instinctively
I knew it was Major Washington, and I drew rein and watched the rider
swinging toward me. In a moment he was at my side, and we exchanged a
warm handclasp from saddle to saddle.

"I am on my way to Riverview," he said, as we again urged our horses
forward. "I hope to stay there the night and start at daybreak for
Williamsburg to make my report to the governor. Do you care to accompany
me, Mr. Stewart?"

"Do you need to ask?" I cried. "And what was the outcome of your
mission, sir?"

"There will be war," he said, and his face darkened. "It is as I
foresaw. The French are impudent, and claim the land belongs to them and
not to us."

Neither of us spoke again, but I confess I was far from sharing the gloom
of my companion. Had I not determined to be a soldier, and how was a
soldier to find employment, but in war? I looked at him narrowly as we
rode, and saw that he was thinner than when he had left us, and that his
face was browned by much exposure.

Right heartily was he welcomed to Riverview, and when dinner had been
served and ended, nothing would do but that he should sit down among us
and tell us the story of his mission. He could scarce have failed to draw
inspiration from such an audience, for Dorothy's eyes were sparkling, and
I was fairly trembling with excitement. Would that I could tell the story
as he told it, but that were impossible.

He and his little party had gone from Will's Creek to the forks of the
Ohio, through the untrodden wilderness and across swollen streams,
struggling on over the threatening mountains and fighting their way
through the gloomy and unbroken forest, and thence down the river to the
Indian village of Logstown. There he had parleyed with the Indians for
near a week