Covert. If, for any reason, you find these orders impossible
of execution, send your report of the False-Faces' council
through Sir George Covert, and push forward with the riflemen
Mount, Murphy, and Elerson until you are in touch with
Gansevoort's outposts at Stanwix. Warn Colonel Gansevoort
that Colonel Barry St. Leger has moved from Oswego, and order
out a strong scout towards Fort Niagara. Although Congress
authorizes the employment of friendly Oneidas as scouts,
General Schuyler trusts that you will not avail yourself of
this liberty. Noblesse oblige! The General directs you to
return only when you have carried out these orders to the
best of your ability. You will burn this paper before you set
out for Stanwix. I am, sir,

"Your most humble and obedient servant,

"JOHN HARROW, Major and A. D. C. to the Major-General
Commanding. (Signed) PHILIP SCHUYLER, Major-General
Commanding the Department of the North."

Hot with mortification at the wretched muddle I had already made of my
mission, I thrust the paper into my pouch and turned to Elerson.

"You know Magdalen Brant?" I asked, impatiently.

"Yes, sir."

"There is a chance," I said, "that she may return to that house on the
hill behind us. If she comes back you will see that she does not leave
the house until we return."

Sir George extinguished the dip once more. Mount turned and set off at a
swinging pace along the invisible path; after him strode Sir George; I
followed, brooding bitterly on my stupidity, and hopeless now of
securing the prisoner in whose fragile hands the fate of the
Northland lay.

XV

THE FALSE-FACES

For a long time we had scented green birch smoke, and now, on hands and
knees, we were crawling along the edge of a cliff, the roar of the river
in our ears, when Mount suddenly flattened out and I heard him breathing
heavily as I lay down close beside him.

"Look!" he whispered, "the ravine is full of fire!"

A dull-red glare grew from the depths of the ravine; crimson shadows
shook across the wall of earth and rock. Above the roaring of the stream
I heard an immense confused murmur and the smothered thumping rhythm of
distant drumming.

"Go on," I whispered.

Mount crawled forward, Sir George and I after him. The light below
burned redder and redder on the cliff; sounds of voices grew more
distinct; the dark stream sprang into view, cri