“Yes. I’ll cheat him for the ten guilders, for your sake. You know I don’t often do it; but, to please a good friend, I will do a violence to my conscience, particularly in a case like this.” “Ven will you do it?” “Oh, I don’t know; pretty soon. When I have done it, you shall hear from me. I shall want that old hoss, howsumdever.” “Send for him ven you wants him. How you sheat Ten Eyck, eh?” “I don’t know now. I’ll tell you when I do it.” He took up his pack and trudged courageously down the little street toward the fort. The stolid sentry made some demur against his entrance; but he got through at last. Swedlepipe gazed after him, with open mouth, until his form was concealed from view. Then, slowly replacing the pipe between his teeth, he ejaculated: “Dat ish ter tuyvel’s poy, I dinks.” CHAPTER II. BOSTON ON THE WITNESS-STAND. Boston Bainbridge knew that he entered the fort at considerable peril to himself; but he had learned, in his wandering life, to look danger in the face. His trickery in trade was as natural to him as the rising of smoke. But, underlying his whimsical manner, there was a vein of pure bravery, and an inherent love for deeds of daring. The jealousies between the Yankees and Dutch had strengthened by degrees, until the two parties begun to concert plans to oust each other from the stronghold they had taken. The Windsor party was headed by Captain William Holmes, a man of great individual courage, who had refused to retrace his steps when he first ascended the river, and ran by under fire of the Dutch guns. Knowing that the Dutch were concerting some plan for his overthrow, he determined to send Boston Bainbridge to Good Hope with his pack, to see what he could pick up in the way of information. The appearance of Boston was no sooner made known to Van Curter, the commandant, than he sent out his orderly to bring the hawker into his presence. The former was a tall, hook-nosed man, with the erect bearing of a soldier. Boston did not like the expression of his eye. It was full of fire, dark and penetrating. “Your name is Boston Bainbridge,” said he. “If I remember aright, you were here some four months ago?” “You are right, squire. I _was_ here then, and I calculate I did a heap of dicker.” “Oh, you did? Allow me to remind you of the fact that you were told not to come here any more. You did not pay much attention to that.” “Now, see here, squire, I’ll tell you all about it. I’m a trader, and it stands to reason that when a feller gets a good place to sell, he don’t like to leave it. I didn’t think you more than half-meant it. Let me show you some goods I’ve got—” “Silence!” thundered Van Curter. “Eh?” “Silence, I say. Listen to me. Who sent you here?” “Who sent me here? Now, squire, I calculate that ain’t a fair question. Who should send me here? I came here to sell goods. Let me show—” “Hans!” cried Van Curter. The orderly entered.