That individual, who was passing in a great hurry, came up at the call. “Where is that Narragansett pony you bought from the Yankee?” “In my stable.” “You must lend him to Carl. We are going on an expedition in which you are to have an important trust. Can he have the horse?” “If you will be responsible for him, yes.” “Go with him, Carl,” said the captain, turning away. “Do not stop a moment to talk. Kill any one who attempts to stay you. I know you are good and true. Good-by, and all luck to you.” In a few moments Carl Anselm, with the wampum belt girt about his waist, rode out of Good Hope. The captain stepped to the side of his horse for a parting word: “Do you know William Barlow, the man who was in Good Hope last night?” “I have met him and know him perfectly by sight.” “He is my enemy. Do you fear him?” “I fear no man,” replied the youth, drawing himself up proudly. “What would you have me do?” “I tell you he is my enemy. Is not that enough for thee? Say, shall he die, if you meet? Will you give him a grave in the forest?” “If knives are sharp or bullets dig deep—if water can drown or fire burn, when we meet he shall die.” “You are a friend indeed,” cried Joseph, grasping his hand. “Go out upon your duty, with my thanks for your kindness. And remember, that in me you always have a friend.” They shook hands and parted, the young man riding swiftly forward upon his way, along the bank of the “Happy River,” while Joseph went back to the camp. On the way, he met Van Curter, who asked him to go with him to secure the horse of Ten Eyck. That worthy was reposing in front of his house, smoking a pipe in great enjoyment. He greeted the approach of the two dignitaries with a nod of recognition, thinking in his heart how he would crow over Paul Swedlepipe, who could not boast of the honor of such a visit. “Good-day, mynheer, good-day,” said Van Curter. “We have agreed to go out against Windsor to-day, and, after considerable discussion, my friend the captain and myself have agreed upon a person to take command of Good Hope during our absence.” “Who is it?” asked Ten Eyck, watching the puff of smoke which ascended in spiral rings from his fair, long pipe. “What would you say to Paul Swedlepipe?” asked the captain, with a touch of mischievous humor. “Would he be a good man for the place?” “What! Paul Swedlepipe? Do you insult me? I would suggest that you go and get Hans Drinker’s boy, Jacob, and give him command, before you take Paul Swedlepipe. To be sure, little Jacob is a fool; but what of that? Paul is a fool, too.” “Then you don’t think Paul would do?” “Nix, _no_, NO!” he cried using all the negatives at his command. “Well, we concluded, after due discussion, not to take Paul. What do you say to Hans Drinker?” “He is a bigger fool than Jacob!” “Then _he_ won’t do; and, in fact, we didn’t think of having him. The man we have in our mind is one Ten Eyck!”