viction.

"I see how you feel about it," he said.

"It's the way all America feels about it," said Irons. "There are not
five thousand men in the colonies who would differ with that view."

Having arrived in the river city, John Irons went, with his family, to
The King's Arms. That very day the Hares took ship for New York on
their way to England. Jack and Solomon went to the landing with them.

"Where is my boy?" Mrs. Irons asked when Binkus returned alone.

"Gone down the river," said the latter.

"Gone down the river!" Mrs. Irons exclaimed. "Why! Isn't that he
coming yonder?"

"It's only part o' him," said Solomon. "His heart has gone down the
river. But it'll be comin' back. It 'minds me o' the fust time I
throwed a harpoon into a sperm whale. He went off like a bullet an'
sounded an' took my harpoon an' a lot o' good rope with him an' got
away with it. Fer days I couldn't think o' nothin' but that 'ere
whale. Then he b'gun to grow smaller an' less important. Jack has
lost his fust whale."

"He looks heart-broken--poor boy!"

"But ye orto have seen her. She's got the ol' harpoon in her side an'
she were spoutin' tears an' shakin' her flukes as she moved away."

CHAPTER II

SOWING THE DRAGON'S TEETH

Solomon Binkus in his talk with Colonel Hare had signalized the arrival
of a new type of man born of new conditions. When Lord Howe and
General Abercrombie got to Albany with regiments of fine, high-bred,
young fellows from London, Manchester and Liverpool, out for a holiday
and magnificent in their uniforms of scarlet and gold, each with his
beautiful and abundant hair done up in a queue, Mr. Binkus laughed and
said they looked "terrible pert." He told the virile and profane
Captain Lee of Howe's staff, that the first thing to do was to "make a
haystack o' their hair an' give 'em men's clothes."

"A cart-load o' hair was mowed off," to quote again from Solomon, and
all their splendor shorn away for a reason apparent to them before they
had gone far on their ill-fated expedition. Hair-dressing and fine
millinery and drawing-room clothes were not for the bush.

An inherited sense of old wrongs was the mental background of this new
type of man. Life in the bush had strengthened his arm, his will and
his courage. His words fell as forcefully as his ax under provocation.
He was deliberate as became one whose scalp was often in danger;
trained to think of the common welfare of his neig