“That's right, commissary!” exclaimed Dunning. “You are a der chap of some pluck, I'll warrant it. I begin to ditter like you. What shall I call your name, friend?” “My name is John Stark, if you will allow,” replied the stranger, with an amused look. “John Stark? Why, that's your der general's name!” said the hunter, incredulously. “Come, come, friend, you are ditter gumming me. I have seen John Stark--Captain Stark, that was then--now general--the same that was bought back by our folks for a white pony--ditter dog cheap, too, as the British will find, before he is der done with them, or I mistake the amount of fight that's in the critter, amazingly.” [Footnote: When General Stark was exposed for sale in Montreal, by the Indians, by whom he had been captured in the French war, and some of his countrymen were trying in vain to make his savage master set a price on him, an English gentleman happened to ride by on a handsome white pony, which so greatly struck the Indian's fancy, that, pointing after the coveted animal, he exclaimed, “Ah! ugh! me take that you get him.” Whereupon the gentleman was followed, the pony purchased, and, with it, the captive Stark redeemed.] “Thank you, sir!” heartily exclaimed the former, now evidently as much gratified as amused at what he heard. “In behalf of that same John Stark, I thank you, sir, for your good opinion of him. But where, my good fellow,” he continued, with at look of lively interest, “where did you ever fall in with Captain Stark?” “Why, in the old war, when he der marched through here with Colonel Hawk, I ditter acted as the colonel's guide over the mountains to Otter Creek. Stark, as I've said, was one of the captains, though I wasn't much with him, to be sure,” replied the hunter, becoming more doubtful and puzzled every moment, at the turn matters were taking. “Ah! yes, yes,--our hunter guide on that rough march! I remember now. Well, well, the fault is not wholly on one side after all!” said the other, musingly. “Der--der--ditter how? der--ditter--” began Dunning opening his eyes with an uneasy stare. “This is General Stark, my boys,” here quickly interposed the other gentleman. “I see by your badges that you belong to the Rangers. I am your colonel, Herrick, and this the general himself, who, by way of relief from a long ride in the saddle, threw off his uniform, like myself, down in the woods yonder, and walked on, while the troops were halting to refresh a moment, and recover from the effects of their march in this scalding heat, before they made their appearance at your rendezvous. They will now be on the move shortly.” “Der--der--ditter--” cried the confused hunter, rising hurriedly to his feet, and lifting his cap, in a tremor of respectful deprecation, before the general, while his tongue began to trip and fly in the vain attempt to get out an apology--“der--der--ditter--ditter--ditter--”