nning, I tell you. Say to
Colonel Willett I'll join him in a second."

The fat little landlord retreated crab-wise. I soused my clipped head
in the tub, took a spatter-bath like a wild duck in a hurry, clothed me
in my gay forest-dress, making no noise lest I wake Elsin, and ran down
the rough wooden stairs to the coffee-room, plump into a crowd of
strange officers, all blue and buff and gilt.

"Well, Carus!" came a cool, drawling voice from the company; and I saw
the tall, gaunt figure of Colonel Marinus Willett sauntering toward me,
his hawk's nose wrinkled into a whimsical smile.

"Colonel," I stammered, saluting, then sprang forward and grasped the
veteran's outstretched hand, asking his pardon for my tardiness.

"What a great big boy!" he commented, holding my hand in both of his,
and inspecting me from crown to heel. "Is this the lad I've heard
of--below--" His nose wrinkled again, and his grimly humorous mouth
twitched. "Carus, you've grown since I last saw you at the patroon's,
romping a reel with those rosy Dutch lassies from Vrooman's--eh? That's
well, my son; the best dancers were ever the best fighters! Look at Tim
Murphy! As for me, I never could learn to dance with you Valley
aristocrats. Carus, you should know my officers." And he mentioned
names with a kindly, informal precision characteristic of a gentleman
too great to follow conventions, too highly bred to ignore them. The
consequent compromise was, as I say, a delightfully formal informality
which reigned among his entourage, but never included himself, although
he apparently invited it. In this, I imagine, he resembled his
Excellency, and have heard others say so; but I do not know, for I
never saw his Excellency.

"Now, gentlemen," said Colonel Willett casually, as he seated himself
at the head of the table. And we sat down at the signal, I next to the
Colonel at his nod of invitation.

The fat little landlord, Burke, notorious for the speed with which he
fled from Sir John Johnson when that warrior-baronet raided Johnstown,
came bustling into the coffee-room like a fresh breeze from the Irish
coast, asking our pleasure in a brogue thick enough to season the
bubbling, steaming bowl of hasty-pudding he set before us a moment
later.

"Jimmy," said an officer, glancing up at him where he stood, thick legs
apart, hands clasped behind him, and jolly head laid on one side, "is
there any news of Sir John Johnson in these parts?"

"Faith," said B