The letter he handed me was from Colonel Dayton. It commended me, enjoined secrecy, approved my Oneidas and my Saguenay, but warned me to remain discreetly silent concerning these red auxiliaries, because General Schuyler did not approve our employing savages. Further, he explained, several full companies of Rangers had now been raised and were properly officered and distributed for employment. Therefore, though I was to retain my commission, he preferred that I command my present force as a scout, and not attempt to recruit a Ranger company. "For," said he, "we have great need of such a scout under an officer who, like yourself, has been Brent-Meester in these forests." However, the letter went on to say, I was ordered to remain on the Sacandaga trail with my scout of ten until relieved, and in the meanwhile a waggon with pay, provisions, and suitable clothing for my men, and additional presents for my Indians, was already on its way. I read the letter very carefully, then took my tinder-box and struck fire with flint and steel, blowing the moss to a glow. To this I touched the edge of my letter, and breathed on the coal till the paper flamed, crinkled, fell in black flakes, and was destroyed. For a few moments I stood there, considering, then dismissed the express; but still stood a-thinking. And it seemed to me that there was indecision in my commander's letter, where positive and virile authority should have breathed action from every line. I know, now, that Colonel Dayton proved to be a most excellent officer of Engineers, later in our great war for liberty. But I think now, and thought then, that he lacked that energy and genius which meets with vigour such a situation as was ours in Tryon County.... God knows to what sublime heights Willett soared in the instant agony of black days to come!... And comparisons are odious, they say.... So Colonel Dayton occupied Johnstown, garrisoned Summer House Point and Fish House, and was greatly embarrassed what to do with his prisoner, Lady Johnson.... A fine, brave, loyal officer--who made us very good forts. But, oh, for the dead of Tryon!--and the Valley in ashes from end to end; and the whole sky afire!--Lord! Lord!--what sights I have lived to see, and seeing, lived to tell! * * * * * My memories outstrip my quill. * * * * * So, when I came out of my revery, I turned and walked back slowly to Penelope, who lifted her eyes in silence, clasping her fair hands over idle needles. "I go back tonight," said I. "To the forest?" "To the trail by the Drowned Lands." "Will you come soon again?" "Do you wish it?" "Why, yes, John Drogue," she said; and I saw the smile glimmer ere it dawned. And now comes my Lady Johnson and her Abagail for a dish of tea on the veranda, where a rustic table was soon spread by Colas, very fine in his scarlet waistcoat and a new scratch-wig.