uld compare with the man he so
ardently admired, but he could find no point of resemblance between
the man who greeted him and the host of Monticello, save in the
courteous, kindly manner of both. The boy's first thought was of the
masterful manner of the man before him, yet those calm, blue-gray
eyes, looking out from under the heavy brows, did not embarrass him.

This is the man who Ahneota believed was guarded by the Great Spirit,
was the thought which flashed through his mind as Washington extended
his hand in greeting, the man who had dared take Governor Dinwiddie's
message into the enemy's country, who had saved the remnants of
Braddock's panic-stricken troops amid a hail of bullets. How could
such a massive figure have escaped, with men falling all around him?

Rodney delivered his message and received a reply, was introduced
to Mrs. Washington and given refreshments and departed rejoicing
that his new work was affording him such pleasant experiences. What
satisfaction it must be, he thought, to be so rich, have such a
fine home and be respected by all one's neighbours. If he had such a
plantation as this he would hunt and fish to his heart's content,
and Lisbeth Danesford would be proud to introduce him to her
cousins from London, and he would not condescend to notice them
either, unless they were different from Mogridge, the insolent
fellow! What had become of him? Anyhow, though the "Chevalier"
finally had gotten the money, there was the satisfaction of winning
it from Mogridge. Ah! Rodney, you were not experienced in the
tricks of gambling or you would have known that, but for the
"Chevalier" watching them, Mogridge and his "pal" would have stripped
you of every farthing.

Rodney had read the letter Lisbeth had written from London. He was
glad she was finding the nobility, the lords and dukes, not to mention
duchesses, such uninteresting people, and that she longed for
Virginia. Had she come home? It would be but little out of his way to
ride around past "The Hall." No, he would not call, for he would not
wish to meet the squire after the shabby manner in which he had
treated them. Possibly he might meet Lisbeth on the road. She was a
mighty fine girl, and, if she did get him into that scrape with
Roscome's bull, she had gotten him out. From the girl his thoughts
reverted to the man he had just left.

The boy recalled that firm mouth, the grave dignity, and the something
about his personality which had s