We had scarce any force to oppose Sir John; no good forts except Stanwix and a few block-houses; our newly-organized civil government was chaotic; our militia untried, unreliable, poorly armed, and still rotten with toryism. To defend all this immense Tryon County frontier, including the river as far as Albany, only one regular regiment had been sent to help us; for what remained of the State Line was needed below, where His Excellency was busy massing an army to face the impending thunder-clap from England. * * * * * As I stood by the window, looking out across the Vlaie at Maxon Ridge, where I felt very sure that hostile eyes were watching the Sacandaga and this very house, a hand touched my arm, and, turning, I saw Penelope Grant beside me. "May I have a word alone with you, Mr. Drogue?" she asked in her serious and graver way--a way as winning as her lighter mood, I thought. So we went out to the veranda and walked a little way among the apple trees, slowly, I waiting to hear what she had for my ear alone. Beyond, by the well, I saw my Rangers squatting cross-legged on the grass in a little circle, playing at stick-knife. Beyond them a Continental soldier paced his beat in front of the gate which closed the mainland road. Birds sang, sunshine glimmered on the water, the sky was softly blue. The girl had paused under a fruit tree. Now, she pulled down an apple branch and set her nose to the blossoms, breathing their fresh scent. "Well," said I, quietly. Her level eyes met mine across the flowering branch. "I am sorry to disturb you," said she. "How disturb me?" "By obliging you to take me to Caughnawaga. It inconveniences you." "I promised to see you safely there, and that is all about it," said I drily. "Yes, sir. But I ask your pardon for exacting your promise.... And--I ask pardon for--for stealing your horse." There seemed to ensue a longer silence than I intended, and I realized that I had been looking at her without other thought than of her dark, young eyes under her yellow hair. "What did you say?" I asked absently. She hesitated, then: "You do not like me, Mr. Drogue." "Did I say so?" said I, startled. "No.... I feel that you do not like me. Is it because I used you without decency when I stole your horse?" "Perhaps some trifling chagrin remains. But it is now over--because you say you are sorry." "I am so." "Then--I am friendly--if you so desire, Penelope Grant." "Yes, sir, I do desire your countenance." I smiled at her gravity, and saw, dawning in return, that lovely, child's smile I already knew and waited for. "I wish to whisper to you," said she, bending the flowering bough lower. So I inclined my ear across it, and felt her delicate breath against my cheek. "I wish to make known to you that I am of your party, Mr. Drogue," she whispered. I nodded approval.