Worthy Van Curter, sitting in his rude fort upon the banks of the bright river, and prophesying the future of the land, in his wildest dreams never approached the reality. Who could hope that, in less than ten generations, the power of the wonderful race should have built up a republic, the grandest of nations, the hope of all the world! “But, this is idle talk,” the soldier continued, rising from his seat. “When you go back to Windsor, and you must go soon, as I will not have you hanging about here, you will see this Lieutenant Barlow, and take this message from me: under no circumstances will I tolerate, in the least degree, his addresses to my daughter. Let him beware how he crosses my path, or worse will come of it. Will you remember?” “Y-a-a-s, squire.” “You may now go out and sell your goods. I give you two days. After that, you must leave the settlement.” He rose and left the room, not aware of the fact that Boston was snapping his fingers behind his official back. CHAPTER III. TWO DUTCH BEAUTIES. “Git eout,” said Boston, executing another flourish as he disappeared. “Two days, umph. Where will you be in two days, I should like to know? Now to business.” He took up the pack and departed from head-quarters, going out upon the parade. There he was besieged by a score of Dutchmen, several of whom reproached him with bad faith in previous bargains, but did not fail to buy; indeed, Boston Bainbridge was gifted by nature with that shrewdness in a bargain which is characteristic of that famous town from whence he took his name; so gifted, indeed, that one of his own countrymen, who had been cheated by him, gave him the name, and it had stuck to him ever after. Getting rid of his purchasers, he carried his diminished pack to the door of a house more pretentious than the others, situated upon the river bank. His knock brought to the door a Teutonic damsel, who started back in undisguised dismay at the sight of the hawker. “Hist, Katrine,” said he; “don’t make a row. How are you?” “What do you want, Boston?” replied the girl, quickly. “I will not join any scheme against the peace of my cousin.” “Sho, now, who asked you? It seems to me, my dear, that you don’t seem glad to see me, after so long a time.” “I ain’t. Don’t you know it’s dangerous to come here? You were in trouble enough before, cheat that you are; but now—” “Well, what now?” “I won’t tell. It’s enough for you to know that something besides a broken head will be yours if you stay. Take up your pack, for heaven’s sake, and be off about your business.” Boston passed his arm about the waist of the buxom girl, and led her into the kitchen. There he dropped his pack, drew her down upon his knee, and kissed her with hearty good-will. She struggled desperately, uttered a good many protests, and ended by returning his kisses in right good earnest.