As I came in sight of my log house, I was astounded to see my mare out and saddled, and a woman setting foot to stirrup. As I sprang out of the edge of the woods and ran toward her, she wheeled Kaya, and I saw that it was the Caughnawaga wench in _my_ saddle and upon _my_ horse--her yellow hair twisted up and shining like a Turk's gold turban above her bloodless face. "What do you mean!" I cried in a fury. "Dismount instantly from that mare! Do you hear me?" "I must ride to Caughnawaga!" she called out, and struck my mare with both heels so that the horse bounded away beyond my reach. Exasperated, I knew not what to do, for I could not hope to overtake the mad wench afoot; and so could only shout after her. However, she drew bridle and looked back; but I dared not advance from where I stood, lest she gallop out of hearing at the first step. "This is madness!" I called to her across the field. "You do not know why that bell is ringing at Mayfield. A week since the Mohawks were talking to one another with fires on all these hills! There may be a war party in yonder woods! There may be more than one betwixt here and Caughnawaga!" "I cannot desert Mr. Fonda at such a time," said she with that same pale and frightened obstinacy I had encountered at Bowman's. "Do you wish to steal my horse!" I demanded. "No, sir.... It is not meant so. If some one would guide me afoot I would be glad to return to you your horse." "Oh. And if not, then you mean to ride there in spite o' the devil. Is that the situation?" "Yes, sir." Had it been any man I would have put a bullet in him; and could have easily marked him where I pleased. Never had I been in colder rage; never had I felt so helpless. And every moment I was afeard the crazy girl would ride on. "Will you parley?" I shouted. "Parley?" she repeated. "How so, young soldier?" "In this manner, then: I engage my honour not to seize your bridle or touch you or my horse if you will sit still till I come up with you." She sat looking at me across the fallow field in silence. "I shall not use violence," said I. "I shall try only to find some way to serve you, and yet to do my own duty, too." "Soldier," she replied in a troubled voice, "is this the very truth you speak?" "Have I not engaged my honour?" I retorted sharply. She made no reply, but she did not stir as I advanced, though her brown eyes watched my every step. When I stood at her stirrup she looked down at me intently, and I saw she was younger even than I had thought, and was made more like a smooth, slim boy than a woman. "You are Penelope Grant, of Caughnawaga," I said. "Yes, sir." "Do you know who I am?" "No, sir." I named myself, saying with a smile that none of my name had ever broken faith in word or deed.