By the time the pint of rum was consumed by these relicts of the reign of Queen Anne, they were generally ready to go up the road arm in arm, each with a cane, just mellow enough to show the young sprouts that nobody need show them how to step off with the dignity of an Indian. However, on this day matters took a different turn. Barclugh stepped up to the old gentlemen and inquired modestly: “Gentlemen, may I ask you the best road to Princeton?” “To be sure, sir,” replied old Samuel, as he turned toward Barclugh, leaning forward with both hands on his walking-stick as he sat gazing into Barclugh’s face: “But have we the pleasure of the gentleman’s name and occupation?” quizzed the old man. Barclugh was not quite ready for the inquisitive familiarity of the reply, but as he commenced with a question there was no alternative in his case but to answer up cheerfully: “My name is Pierre La Fitte; I am a merchant of Philadelphia on my way to Fishkill Landing.” “Humph, you got a pretty skittish ride before you, Mr. La Fitte, and I b’leeve the longest road is the shortest for you. You just keep right on to Princeton and then to Morristown Heights and when you git five miles beyond Morristown you ask for my son-in-law, Benjamin Andrews, and he will take good care of you and all you need to tell him is that you met old Samuel Whitesides and it won’t cost you a farthing for your keep.” However, as this conversation was proceeding, old Jonathan kept his eye closely on the stranger as he sat with his chin on both hands which were resting on his cane before him. [Illustration: “Have we the pleasure of the gentleman’s name and occupation?” quizzed the old man.] Barclugh noticed that he was being scrutinized very sharply and he did not relish his position, but he looked out at his horse and turned to go with a parting bow to the two old men, while he thanked his informant twice. No sooner had the stranger mounted than the old men arose to watch him disappear up the road. “Sam’l,” said Hopper, “what d’ye think of that ’ere stranger? I b’leeve he has no good around these parts. He had an uneasy and restless look in his eye. He’s got some deep-laid business on his mind and I don’t think that was his name that he told us. Mabbee he’s one of those consarned British spies that we hear so much about these times.” “Yes, yes, you got to git yourself all worked up naow, Jonathan, and all on account of that gentleman addressing me to the hexclusion of yourself. If you thought that he was a spy why didn’t you step up to him and demand his passports? Now that he is gone you can concoct all kinds of dreams about him; that’s cowardly, Jonathan, that’s cowardly.”