FIRE. X. TWO LESSONS. XI. LIGHTS AND
SHADOWS. XII. THE GHOST-RING. XIII. THE MAID-AT-ARMS. XIV. ON DUTY. XV.
THE FALSE-FACES. XVI. ON SCOUT. XVII. THE FLAG. XVIII. ORISKANY. XIX.
THE HOME TRAIL. XX. COCK-CROW. XXI. THE CRISIS. XXII. THE END OF THE
BEGINNING.

ILLUSTRATIONS

"I SAT DOWN HEAVILY IN HOMESICK SOLITUDE".

"YOU'RE MY COUSIN, GEORGE ORMOND, OR I'M THE FATTEST LIAR SOUTH OF
MONTREAL!".

"SHE SUFFERED US TO SALUTE HER HAND".

"NOW LOOSE ME--FOR THE FOREST ENDS!".

"THIS IS THE END, O YOU WISE MEN AND SACHEMS!".

"JACK MOUNT LOOMED A COLOSSAL FIGURE IN HIS BEADED BUCKSKINS".

"INSTANTLY MOUNT TRIPPED THE MAN".

"A STRANGE SHYNESS SEEMED TO HOLD US APART".

THE MAID-AT-ARMS

I

THE ROAD TO VARICKS'

We drew bridle at the cross-roads; he stretched his legs in his
stirrups, raised his arms, yawned, and dropped his huge hands upon
either thigh with a resounding slap.

"Well, good-bye," he said, gravely, but made no movement to leave me.

"Do we part here?" I asked, sorry to quit my chance acquaintance of the
Johnstown highway.

He nodded, yawned again, and removed his round cap of silver-fox fur to
scratch his curly head.

"We certainly do part at these cross-roads, if you are bound for
Varicks'," he said.

I waited a moment, then thanked him for the pleasant entertainment his
company had afforded me, and wished him a safe journey.

"A safe journey?" he repeated, carelessly. "Oh yes, of course; safe
journeys are rare enough in these parts. I'm obliged to you for the
thought. You are very civil, sir. Good-bye."

Yet neither he nor I gathered bridle to wheel our horses, but sat there
in mid-road, looking at each other.

"My name is Mount," he said at length; "let me guess yours. No, sir!
don't tell me. Give me three sportsman's guesses; my hunting-knife
against the wheat straw you are chewing!"

"With pleasure," I said, amused, "but you could scarcely guess it."

"Your name is Varick?"

I shook my head.

"Butler?"

"No. Look sharp to your knife, friend."

"Oh, then I have guessed it," he said, coolly; "your name is Ormond--and
I'm glad of it."

"Why are you glad of it?" I asked, curiously, wondering, too, at his
knowledge of me, a stranger.

"You will answer that question for yourself when you meet your kin, the
Varicks and Butlers," he said; and the reply had an insolent ring that
did not please me, yet I was loath to quarrel with this boyish giant
whose amiable compan