“Sam’l,” came the hot reply, “you and I have been boys and men together, but when you impeach the bravery of an old soldier,--one who has been at Crown Point and Ticonderogy, too! Why, sir, that is beyond endurance, and before I shall be seen coming down this road again with you, may bunions like onions grow out of my toes. I shall leave you, sir, I shall leave you,” sputtered old Jonathan as he hobbled to his feet, livid and glaring at Samuel with rage. As he shuffled across the room with the aid of his cane, he made for the door and straightway, as fast as his bunions would allow him, striding up the road, he cut the air with his hands and cane, muttering: “I’ll be damned first, I’ll be damned first.” However, Jonathan had not gone very far before he met a young Indian girl going in the opposite direction. She stopped and very quietly asked: “Sir, could you tell me if you have seen a gentleman on a black horse go along the road this morning travelling for Fishkill to General Washington’s headquarters? He was tall and dark and wore a velvet waistcoat of dark blue.” “Why, my girl, yes, that’s right. He was going to Fishkill. Certainly, you just come with me, I’ll show you a man that knows all about him. He was just talking with him. I b’leeve that ’ere man you ask for is a rascal, and Samuel can’t turn my head abaout it neethur.” “Yes, sir, I believe he has no good purposes in taking this journey. I have seen him and General Arnold meet after midnight alone.” “Look at that! look at that!” continued old Jonathan. “Mabbee Sam’l won’t listen to that. You come along with me, my girl. I want you to show that old wiseacre a thing or two. Come along with me, my girl.” When they arrived at the door of the tap-room, the Indian girl hesitated and paused at the doorway while Jonathan bolted up to Samuel as though he were going to eat him up. But Jonathan said in his most persuasive tones: “Samuel, there’s a young lady here, that wants to ask you about that gentleman on his way to Fishkill.” “Certainly, certainly, Jonathan. I’ll do anything to please you,” returned Samuel as he rose and went to the Indian girl, who stood at the doorway of the tavern, as she asked: “Has this gentleman told you where he was going?” “Yes,” spoke up Samuel as he straightened to his full height to answer. “He sid he was goin’ to Feeshkill.” “I b’leeve he was lyin’,” interjected Jonathan, with a snap in his voice. “I think he’s goin’ somewhere else and he wanted to put us off his tracks. Now, what do you think, young lady?” “It’s hard to tell, sir, but I saw him visit General Arnold. “What name did he give you, sir?” “He said: ‘My name is Pierre La Fitte, and I am a merchant of Philadelphia on my way to Feeshkill,’” replied Samuel. “Why, that’s not his real name,” returned Segwuna. “His name is Roderick Barclugh.”