kiss _face_ of grandmodder?" asked the Onondago, coolly and
quietly.

Had a clap of thunder broken over my head, I could not have been more
astonished! The disguise that had deceived my nearest relations--that
had baffled Seneca Newcome, and had set at naught even his sister
Opportunity--had failed to conceal me from that Indian, whose faculties
might be supposed to have been numbed with age!

"Is it possible that you know me, Susquesus!" I exclaimed, signing
towards the negro at the same time, by way of caution; "that you
remember me, at all! I should have thought this wig, these clothes,
would have concealed me."

"Sartain," answered the aged Indian, calmly. "Know young chief
soon as see him; know fader--know mudder; know gran'fader,
gran'mudder--great-gran'fader; _his_ fader, too; know all. Why
forget young chief?"

"Did you know me before I kissed my grandmother's hand, or only by that
act?"

"Know as soon as see him. What eyes good for, if don't know? Know uncle,
dere, sartain; welcome home!"

"But you will not let others know us, too, Trackless? We have always
been friends, I hope?"

"Be sure, friends. Why ole eagle, wid white head, strike young pigeon?
Nebber hatchet in 'e path between Susquesus and any of de tribe of
Ravensnest. Too ole to dig him up now."

"There are good reasons why my uncle and myself should not be known for
a few days. Perhaps you have heard something of the trouble that has
grown up between the landlords and the tenants, in the land?"

"What dat trouble?"

"The tenants are tired of paying rent, and wish to make a new bargain,
by which they can become owners of the farms on which they live."

A grim light played upon the swarthy countenance of the Indian: his lips
moved, but he uttered nothing aloud.

"Have you heard anything of this, Susquesus?"

"Little bird sing sich song in my ear--didn't like to hear it."

"And of Indians who are moving up and down the country, armed with
rifles and dressed in calico?"

"What tribe, dem Injin," asked the Trackless, with a quickness and a
fire I did not think it possible for him to retain. "What 'ey do,
marchin' 'bout?--on war-path, eh?"

"In one sense they may be said to be so. They belong to the anti-rent
tribe; do you know such a nation?"

"Poor Injin dat, b'lieve. Why come so late?--why no come when 'e foot of
Susquesus light as feather of bird?--why stay away till pale-faces
plentier dan leaf on tree, or snow in air? Hundred