h mystery, conquering,
triumphing, as an Oneida, where a single false step, a single slip, a
moment's faltering in her sweet and serene authority might have brought
out the appalling cry of accusation:

"Her heart is white!"

And not one hand would have been raised to prevent the sacrificial test
which must follow and end inevitably in a dreadful death.

* * * * *

Mount and Elerson, moved by a rare delicacy, turned and walked
noiselessly away towards the hill-top.

"Wake her," I said to Sir George.

He knelt beside her, looking long into her face; then touched her
lightly on the hand. She opened her eyes, looked up at him gravely, then
rose to her feet, steadying herself on his bent arm.

"Where have you been?" she asked, glancing anxiously from him to me.
There was the faintest ring of alarm in her voice, a tint of color on
cheek and temple. And Sir George, lying like a gentleman, answered: "We
have searched the trails in vain for you. Where have you lain
hidden, child?"

Her lips parted in an imperceptible sigh of relief; the pallor of
weariness returned.

"I have been upon your business, Sir George," she said, looking down at
her mud-stained garments. Her arms fell to her side; she made a little
gesture with one limp hand. "You see," she said, "I promised you." Then
she turned, mounting the steps, pensively; and, in the doorway, paused
an instant, looking back at him over her shoulder.

* * * * *

And all that night, lying close to the verge of slumber, I heard Sir
George pacing the stony yard under the great stars; while the riflemen,
stretched beside the hearth, snored heavily, and the death-watch ticked
in the wall.

At dawn we three were afield, nosing the Sacandaga trail to count the
tracks leading to the north--the dread footprints of light, swift feet
which must return one day bringing to the Mohawk Valley an awful
reckoning.

At noon we returned. I wrote out my report and gave it to Sir George. We
spoke little together. I did not see Magdalen Brant again until they
bade me adieu.

And now it was two o'clock in the afternoon; Sir George had already set
out with Magdalen Brant to Varicks' by way of Stoner's; Elerson and
Mount stood by the door, waiting to pilot me towards Gansevoort's
distant outposts; the noon sunshine filled the deserted house and fell
across the table where I sat, reading over my instructions from Schuyler
ere