boy when you entered.”

“I was—a cadet.”

“And what brought you back here to link your fortunes with these rebels, sir?”

“My country. She was in danger, and I owed her my life.”

“What orders did you carry to Derryfield?”

The hussar smiled slightly, and remained silent.

Butler looked at him with a gloomy but hesitating manner. He did not seem so much incensed against the hussar since he had discovered the famous corps to which he belonged.

“Look here, captain,” he said, suddenly, altering his manner to one of complete cordiality, “there can be no use in hiding the truth from me. I have no ill-feeling against you for treating me so roughly. It was war-time, and a hussar should always be on the alert. But why should an officer of your experience take a side which must be the losing one in this struggle, when a commission in the king’s service awaits you, if you wish? Already General Burgoyne has your cousin enveloped in the toils, at Albany, and another week will see the rebels cut in half, from the lakes to New York. I know why you went to Derryfield. It was to try and rouse[Pg 31] the Vermont militia. But it is of no use, I assure you. Who is in command there, by the by?”

[Pg 31]

Schuyler again smiled, but made no answer.

The partisan leader frowned in a vexed manner at that.

“Captain Schuyler,” he said, in a low, grating voice, “remember there are Indians round you. For the last time, what was your errand?”

“For the last time, Captain Butler, I will not tell you.”

Butler changed his manner to its old repulsive sullenness.

“Very well. Your blood on your own head.”

He spoke a few words in the Mohawk tongue, and Schuyler was seized and bound hand and foot in an incredibly short space of time, then cast down at the foot of a tree, and left between two guards, to sleep if he could.

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