one day followed another and one week ran into the next as the new venture made her southing and bore west toward the new world. the weather was blustery and raw. gales stormed down out of the polar regions and drenched us with snow. head winds baffled us. once a tall-masted stranger chased us for two days and a night before we lost her and might continue our course.

but we who shared the tiny quarters under the poop contrived to live together without further quarrels. it seemed almost as if the opposition of the elements had overwhelmed the bitterness of conflicting human interests.

the girl with the green cloak—i called her marjory in my thoughts—ignored my existence. she spent much of her time with de veulle, walking the deck with him, reading or playing at cards. i liked to think she did it to provoke me. sometimes, too, she chatted with the seamen, and they taught her the trick of handling the wheel. but i did not speak to her after the night she came into the main cabin and found the negro, tom, lying on the floor at my feet.

de veulle gave me a wide berth. he did not like to be reminded before others of that duel in the toison d'or. tom's eyes never left me if i was within the range of their vision; their blind, yellow glare haunted my dreams. he snarled sometimes like a caged wild beast when i walked near him. but he never lifted a finger against me.

with murray my relations were outwardly friendly. he liked much to talk, and indeed he demonstrated a considerable acquaintance with the great men of his period. but he never dropped a hint concerning the enterprise in which he was now engaged. nor for that matter did he ever seek to draw me out on the mission i served.

he was a man of extraordinary perspicacity. once he had determined accurately the measure of an opponent he never made the mistake of underrating his enemy.

"most of the failures in life come from overconfidence, master ormerod—" he called me by my real name with scrupulous courtesy when we were alone, and was equally scrupulous to dub me juggins if captain abbot or one of the crew happened to be present—"as i dare swear you know. i have long made it a rule of my life never to believe that any other man could be less diligent about his affairs than i myself.

"if i find myself in opposition to a man—yourself, let us suppose—i do you the credit of granting you my own degree of intellect. so, i have learned, may one's interests be safeguarded."

for the rest, he exhibited much concern in the personalities at versailles and st. germain, and aired his views regarding the existing state of the english nobility and court with a vanity which would have savored of the popinjay had it not been for his undoubted earnestness and the strange spell which the man's personality wove about him. most of all, however, he delighted to discuss his own genealogy and the history of the famous scots families with whom he was connected. he could descant on such topics for an entire afternoon—and with an uncommon candor and entertaining flow of intellect.

perhaps the most striking aspect of our intercourse was that we talked together, more or less, every day for nearly two months; and at the end of that time i had the material for delineating the character of a man of gentility and fine feeling in matters of honor, who possessed the friendship or intimacy of many famous personages in europe and america.

i knew that he claimed to be a younger son of a good scots house, fallen into decay by reason of the jacobite wars. i knew that he played a good hand at piquet, and was entirely honorable in gambling. i knew he had a dainty taste in snuff, cravats and linen.

and i knew absolutely nothing else, gained from his own admissions and observance of his habits. he was patronizingly cordial to captain abbot and the other officers of the ship; he controlled tom as i should a dog; he treated marjory with consideration, even affection, although not as i should have expected him to treat a daughter; he observed toward de veulle exactly the right mixture of the older man of the world and the boon comrade.

he never referred to the enmity between us or the bargain we had made until the day we sailed through the narrows, the entrance to new york's inner harbor, and saw far in the distance, behind tree-covered islands in a long perspective of forest shore-lines, the miniature provincial capital huddled on the point of the big island which the dutch named manhattan, an occasional steeple pointing skyward above the two and three story houses and the frowning ramparts of fort george.

"we part for a time, master ormerod," he said, coming upon me where i leaned on the railing in the waist of the ship, viewing this unknown land where i must retrieve my fallen fortunes. "our truce expires when we disembark."

"that is true," i assented.

"there is somewhat i would venture to observe upon, if you will permit me," he continued detachedly.

i inclined my head, thinking mainly of the exquisite beauty of this woodland setting, with the early spring foliage already turning green, and the wide spaces of emptiness so close to a principal center of civilization.

"you are a youth of boldness and courage. i do not seek to flatter you by saying so. you possess intelligence. you may go far in the provinces, always supposing you do not succeed in winning a pardon. i opine that a pardon might be won if you went about it in the right way. there are gentlemen at whitehall, who—"

his hesitation was eloquent.

"and you would suggest?" i asked him, faintly amused as i perceived the drift of his intention.

"think well before you commit yourself to this venture. mark me, sir, it means little to me. you know nothing of what you embark upon. you can not hope to overcome me. why, the governor of this province, with all the semi-regal powers at his command, has failed to balk me in my plans. my influence is no less in london. if you continue as you have begun you will end, i fear, in an early grave. i say it not as a threat. 'tis merely a prediction."

"i fear me i should lose your good opinion did i take your advice," i replied.

he looked me straight in the eyes.

"you would," he said curtly, and he turned on his heel and left me.

three hours later we lay at anchor in the east river under the lee of nutten island, which some called the governor's because it was part of his official estate. the extent of the shipping was surprizing considering the size of the town, and we were fortunate to secure small boats to ferry us ashore. they landed us at a wharf on a canal which ran up into the town along the middle of broad street. from here i had my baggage carried by a water-man to the george tavern in queen street which he recommended as being favored by the gentry.

murray's party i overheard giving directions for the conduct of their effects to cawston's tavern in hanover square, a comfortable open place which we traversed on our way to the george. the streets were all shaded by a variety of trees—locusts, beeches, elms—and in some parts and along certain blocks they were paved.

the houses, many of them, were stanchly built of brick and tiles, often of more than one color. their gable ends fronted upon the streets. the more pretentious ones had gardens behind, and many had platforms on the roof whence the members of the family might secure a broad view of the town and bay.

along the water-front there were frequent warehouses, and the chief impression that i gained was one of bustling wealth and prosperity. indeed, although new york was then, and for many years afterwards, inferior in population to boston and philadelphia, it vied with them in the volume of its trade.

after a meal which was as good as any i had ever eaten in paris or london i inquired of master kurt van dam, the proprietor of the george, where i might find governor burnet. van dam was a broad-bodied, square-headed dutchman. he sat in the ordinary, smoking a long clay pipe, and if the waiter had not pointed him out to me i should not have been able to distinguish him from a dozen other natives of the town, precisely similar in build and each sprawled back upon a bench or chair, puffing at a pipe which reached from his lips to his knees.

"you vant to sbpeak to der gofernor, eh?" he said slowly. "hah! myndert!"

he recalled the waiter who had piloted me to his side.

"haf you seen der gofernor dis morning?"

myndert had not.

"veil, it maype he is at der fort," reflected master van dam.

"he vouldt pe, if he vas," said a stout burgher on the next bench. "put he is not."

"you are sure?"

"ja."

a third stout dutchman removed his pipe from his mouth and blew a mouthful of smoke toward the ceiling.

"der gofernor is still at cabptain van horne's," he said, and immediately replaced the pipe in his mouth.

"to be sure," assented van dam. "der gofernor is only a little time married to captain van horne's dotter. he life with dem vile der house in der fort is mate bpretty for her."

"and where is captain van horne's house!" i asked.

"in der broad-vay not far oop from der fort. you valk across through hanofer square."

i thanked him and walked forth.

in hanover square, which was only a few steps distant, there was a crowd collected about the entrance to cawston's tavern. murray was standing in the doorway, tom on one side of him, and a huge, red-haired giant in buckskin, with knife and tomahawk at his belt on the other. i stared at the red-haired man, for he was the first woodsman i had seen, observing with curiosity his shaggy locks and fur cap and the brutal ferocity of his face.

i stared so long that i attracted the attention of murray, who broke off his conversation, with the group surrounding him, and with a pale smile pointed me out to his buckskin retainer. the man scowled at me, and one hand went to his knife-hilt.

i spoke to the citizen nearest me.

"what is the occasion of the crowd?" i asked.

"'tis master murray, the fur-trader, hath returned from london after winning his case before the lords of trade," he answered.

"how is that?"

he regarded me suspiciously.

"are you a stranger?"

"i am but just landed from the same ship as carried master murray," i assured him.

"ah!"

his manner became impressive; plainly he considered himself one who imparts portentous news.

"master murray, as you will soon learn, sir, is our most enterprising merchant. he hath built up with much difficulty a valuable trade with the french, with the result that the business of the province hath doubled.

"but the governor will have none of it, or so he says. he hath done all that he may, even to passing laws against master murray's trade; but now, it seems, master murray hath carried his case to the lords of trade, who have refused to approve the laws."

i thanked the man and pushed on through the crowd. so that was the story murray was telling! and plainly he had the prestige and the following to make himself a dangerous force, even, as he had boasted, against the governor and the provincial authorities.

but on the outskirts of the gathering i chanced to overhear another conversation which indicated that murray's hold upon public opinion was perhaps not so strong as my first informant had led me to believe.

"he hath the devil's own luck," murmured a prosperous-appearing citizen.

"aye," said his neighbor bitterly; "they will ply a grand traffic over the doom trail."

the odd name, so sinister in its implication, struck my imagination. i lingered behind the two, pretending to peer over their heads.

"and 'tis these fools here who will pay for it in the long run," answered the other.

"and yourself and i," rejoined the second.

as i turned to leave, i met again the threatening glance of the red-haired giant which sought me out across the crowd. i tapped the nearest of the pair of disgruntled citizens upon the shoulder.

"pray, sir, who is the tall fellow in buckskin on the steps?"

the man edged away from me as suspiciously as the first one i had accosted.

"i am a stranger in your town," i added.

"'tis a frontiersman," he replied reluctantly; "one called 'red jack' bolling."

"an ugly knave," i commented.

but the citizen and his friend only eyed me askance, and i walked on, reflecting on the current of intrigue which i had uncovered beneath the placid life of the little town within two hours of my landing.

i was walking through bridge street, with the leafing tree-boughs overhead and the walls of fort george before me, when another and smaller crowd rounded the corner from the broad-way, a street which formed the principal thoroughfare of the town and took its name from the wide space between the house-walls.

in the lead came an indian. he was the first of his race i chanced to see, and sure, 'tis strange that we were destined to be friends—aye, more than friends, brethren of the same clan. he was a large man, six feet in his moccasins, and of about the same age as myself. he stalked along, arms swinging easily at his side, wholly impervious to the rabble of small boys who tagged behind, yelling and shrieking at him.

his handsome face, with its high-arched nose, was expressionless. his eyes stared straight in front of him. he wore the go-lea, or breechcloth, and thigh-leggings of soft, tanned deerskin. a single eagle feather rose from the scalp-lock which hung from his shaven head.

he was naked from the waist up, and on his massive chest was painted in yellow and red pigments the head of a wolf. he wore no other paint, and he was weaponless, except for the tomahawk and knife which hung at his belt.

the children danced around him like so many little animals. they never touched him, but some of the more venturesome hurled pebbles from the walk at his brawny shoulders.

"injun jim came to town, with his breeches falling down," they chanted.

"scalp-taker, scalp-taker," shrieked another.

"big injun drink much fire-water," howled a group.

"injun dirt, injun dirt, always 'feared that soap will hurt," proclaimed others.

i can not repeat all the catch-calls and rimes which they employed, some of them too disgusting for print. sure, the gamins of paris, with their natural ability at verbal filth, might have listened respectfully to these children of a far province, attempting to humiliate one of the race who had formerly been lords of the whole land.

i looked to see some citizen intervene, but several who sat on their doorsteps or lounged in front of shops, smoking the inevitable pipe, viewed the spectacle with indifference or open amusement. and the indian stalked along, his dignity unruffled through it all.

my wrath boiled over, and i charged down upon the tormentors.

"be off," i shouted. "have you no proper play to occupy your time?"

they fled hilariously, pleased rather than outraged by the attack, after the perverse habit of children who prefer always to be noticed instead of ignored. the citizens who had witnessed the persecution of the indian chuckled openly at the discomfiture of his assailants, and then returned to their pipes.

i was proceeding on my way when i was dumfounded by hearing the indian address me.

"hold, brother," he said in perfect english, but with a certain thick guttural accent. "ta-wan-ne-ars would thank you."

"you speak english!" i exclaimed.

a light of amusement gleamed in his eyes, although his face remained expressionless as a mask.

"you do not think of the indian as these ignorant little ones do?" he asked curiously.

"i—i know nothing of your people," i stammered. "i am but this day landed here."

"my brother is an englishman?" he questioned, not idly but with the courteous interest of a gentleman.

"i am."

"ta-wan-ne-ars thanks you, englishman." he extended his hand.

"your kindness was the greater because you obeyed it by instinct."

i regarded him with increasing amazement. who was this savage who talked like a london courtier?

"i helped you," i said, "because you were a stranger in a strange city, and by the laws of hospitality your comfort should be assured."

"that is the law of the indian, englishman," he answered pleasantly; "but it is not the law of the white man."

"it is the law our religion teaches," i remonstrated, feeling that i must defend this indictment of my race.

"your religion teaches it to you and you try to apply it to yourselves," he objected. "but you do not even try to apply it to the indian. the indian is a savage. he is in the way of the white man. he must be pushed out."

i took his hand in mine.

"all white men do not feel so," i said.

"not all," he assented. "but most."

"i go now," i continued, "to governor burnet. i shall ask him to make a law that indians shall be as safe from mockery as from violence in new york."

"governor burnet is a good man. my brother will speak to friendly ears. he does not say '—— injun' and 'dirty beast' because we live differently from him. he is a man."

"you call me brother," i said. "i have no friends in this land. may i call you brother?"

that wonderful expression of burning intelligence lighted his face again.

"my brother has befriended ta-wan-ne-ars. ta-wan-ne-ars is his friend and brother. ta-wan-ne-ars will not forget."

he raised his right hand arm high in the gesture of greeting or farewell, and we separated.