Swinging himself down by the branches of the oak, William found himself in possession of the very things that he most needed. In their unaccountable flight the strange party had left behind them a rough blanket and a blue woollen cape, and a huge flint-lock pistol, whose dark butt protruded from the snow, where it had been dropped, like some new growth of the forest. A short distance away was a placid-looking horse who had commenced again to gnaw the trunk of a white birch. "Refuse not the gifts the gods provide," quoted William. "What did they take me for? I must look like an army or a constable. A lot of thieves, most likely." He extricated the horse with some difficulty, and picking up the blanket and woollen cape, he retraced his steps to the top of the ridge, and made his way along the summit toward the travelled road to the southward. He had now the things he had wished for to continue his journey. By noon he had covered some fifteen miles, for he could hardly urge the sorry beast out of a walk. He met no one on the road until the sun glowered directly above his head. He had passed several houses, but deemed it safer to go on as far as he could before he stopped and asked the direction. As he made his way through a bit of swampy land he saw ahead of him a strange-looking object. It was a man carrying a heavy burden on his back. What it was at first William could not make out, but as he approached nearer he saw that it was the body of a freshly slaughtered hog. He was almost at the strange figure's heels before the latter turned. The broad honest face with a cheek closely pressed against the dead pig's open-mouthed visage presented such a comical picture that William to save himself could not but smile. "Greeting, good friend," he said. "Good-morrow." The man did not answer, but walked closely up to William's side, almost thrusting his own face and the pig's into the saddle. "What sayest thou?" he inquired. "I am deaf as a ploughshare." "Can you tell me the direction of Plainfield?" shouted William, bending over. "Yea, friend," was the answer, "but thou art too far north." William had surmised as much. "Where are you going with your burden?" he inquired. "Oh, the shoat?" the man answered, rubbing his cheek against the pig's fat jowl to steady him on his shoulder. "It's a gift I am making to a righteous cause. I am not a man of war," he added. "It is against my creed, but they who fight need flesh to strengthen them. I am taking this to some good people who are camped below us. Thou art a soldier?" "I am," said William. "I would shake hands with thee, but I should drop my load." The broad face smiled. "Come, place him upon my horse," said William, dismounting. As they were placing the pink body across the saddle, and William was marvelling at the man's great strength, there was a hail from a clump of alders to the left. "Ah, Brother Whitehead," was the exclamation, "what have we here?"