usiness in New York. Attempting to take
him, I made a bad matter of it, he escaping by diving. Some men in
green uniforms, whom I suppose were foresters from Sir John's
corps, firing on us, I deemed it prudent to take to my heels as far
as the settlement called Oswaya, which is on Frenchman's Creek,
some five miles above Varicks.

"The settlement is practically defenseless, and the people
hereabout expect trouble. If you believe it worth while to send
some Rangers here to complete the harvest, it should, I think, be
done at once. Patrick Farris, landlord at the Yellow Tavern,
estimates the buckwheat at five thousand bushels. There is also a
great store of good apples, considerable pitted corn, and much
still standing unstacked, and several acres of squashes and
pumpkins--all a temptation to the enemy.

"I can form no estimate of Sir John's force on the Sacandaga. This
letter goes to you by the Oneida runner, Little Otter, who deserves
kind treatment for his services. I send you also, under his escort,
an unfortunate young girl, of whom you have doubtless heard. She is
Lyn Montour, and is by right, if not by law, the wife of Captain
Walter Butler. He repudiates her; her own people disown her. I
think, perhaps, some charitable lady of the garrison may find a
home for her in Johnstown or in Albany. She is Christian by
instinct if not by profession.

"Awaiting your instructions here, I have the honor to remain, Your
humble and ob't servant,

"CARUS RENAULT,
"_Regt. Staff Capt_."

The sun had set. Farris brought a tallow dip. He also laid a fire in
the fireplace and lighted it, for the evening had turned from chill to
sheer dry cold, which usually meant a rain for the morrow in these
parts.

Shivering a little in my wet deerskins, I sanded, folded, directed, and
sealed the letter, laid it aside, and drew the other half-sheet toward
me. For a few moments I pondered, head supported on one hand, then
dipped quill in horn and wrote:

"_Beloved_--There is a poor young girl here who journeys to-night to
Johnstown under escort of my Oneida. Do what you can for her in
Johnstown. If you win her confidence, perhaps we both may help her.
Her lot is sad enough.

"Dearest, I am to acquaint you that I am no longer, by God's
charity, a spy. I now hope to take the field openly as soon as our
scouts