siness, and he, in turn, had it from one
Jacobus Huysman, a burgher of Albany in most excellent standing. Parts
of the matter are obscure, but the result is certain. It seems that the
lad was stalked by a spy, one Garay, and was murdered by him. His body,
they think, was thrown into the Hudson and was carried away. At least it
was never found. A most tragic business. I could have loved that lad as
if he had been my own son. It caused great grief to both Hardy and
Huysman,--and to me, too."

A lump came into Robert's throat. He did have friends, many and
powerful, and they mourned him. He seemed to have the faculty of
inspiring liking wherever he went. He had been standing in the shadow,
while the wounded man sat where the sunlight from the windows poured
upon him. He moved a little nearer where he could be more clearly seen,
and said:

"But what if I tell you that Robert Lennox is not dead, that he survived
a most nefarious plot against him, that he was, in truth, kidnapped and
carried far away to sea, but was rescued in a most remarkable manner and
has come back to his own land."

"'Tis impossible! 'Tis a wild tale, though God knows I wish it were
true, because he was a fine and gallant lad."

"'Tis a wild tale, sir, that I confess, but 'tis not impossible, for it
has happened. I am that Robert Lennox who came with Tayoga, the
Onondaga, in the canoe, through the fog on Lake George, to you, asking
that you hurry to the relief of the boat builders! You will remember,
sir, the fight at the ford, when they sought to ambush us, and how we
routed them with the cannon. You'll recall how St. Luc drew off when we
reached the boat builders. I've been away a long time, where every month
counted as a year, and perhaps I've changed greatly, but I'm that same
Robert Lennox to whom you said more than once that if the Governor and
Legislature of the Province of Massachusetts had done their full duty
your force would have been three or four times as strong."

"What? What? No stranger could know as much as you know! Come farther
into the light, boy! The voice is nearly the same as I remember it, but
the face has changed. You're older, graver, and there's a new look! But
the eyes are like his! On my soul I believe it's Robert Lennox! Aye, I
know 'tis Robert! Come, lad, and shake hands with me! I would go to you
but this wretched wound holds me in my chair! Aye, boy, yours is the
grasp of a strong and honest hand, and when I look int