They were on their way to Canada by way of Sacandaga, to learn what Sir John might be about.... God knows I also desire very earnestly to know what the sinister Baronet may be planning. Penelope writes me that Tahioni the Wolf is dead in his glory; and that Hiakatoo took his scalp and heart.... I suppose that is glory enough for any dead young warrior, but the intelligence fills me with foreboding. And Kwiyeh the Screech-owl is dead at Lake Desolation, and so is Hanatoh the Water-snake, where some Praying Indians caught them in a canoe and made a dreadful example of my two young comrades.... But at least they were permitted to sing their death-songs, and so died happy--if that indeed be happiness.... The Cadys, who were gone off to Canada, and John and Phil Helmer, have been seen in green uniforms and red; and Adam Helmer has sworn an oath to seek them, follow them, and slay them for the bloody turncoat dogs they are. Lord, Lord, how hast Thou changed Thy children into creatures of the wild to prey one upon another till all the Northland becomes once more a desert and empty of human life! It is May. I sicken for Penelope and for my home. * * * * * I am given a furlough! I asked it not. Lord Stirling dismisses me--with a grin. Pretense of inspection covering the Johnstown district, and to count the batteaux between Schenectady and the Creek of Askalege! Which is but sheer nonsense; and I had as well spend the time a-telling of my thumbs--which Lord Stirling knows as well as I is the pastime of an idiot.... God bless him! I am given a month, to arrange my personal affairs. I have asked for nothing; and am given a month!... And stand here at the tent door all a-tremble while my mare is saddled, not trusting my voice lest it break and shame me before all.... I close my _carnet_ and strap it with a buckle. * * * * * I am on my way! Shad-bushes drop a million snowy petals in the soft May breeze; dogwood is in bloom; orchards are become great nosegays of pink and silver. Everywhere birds are singing. And through this sweet Paradise I ride in my dingy regimentals; but my pistols are clean and my leathers; and my sword and spurs are bright, and chime gaily as I ride beside the great gray river northward, ever northward to my sweetheart and my home. I baited at Tarrytown. The next night I was at Poughkeepsie, where the landlord was a low-Dutchman and a skinflint too. I passed opposite to where Kingston lay in ashes, burned wantonly by a brute. And after that I advanced but slowly, for roads were bad and folk dour and suspicious--which state of mind I also shared and had no traffic with those I encountered, and chose to camp in the woods, too, rather than risk a night under the dubious roofs I saw, even though invited.