rise of ground was passed, and they had waved a parting farewell, to which Mrs. Morris had answered by a wave of her apron, his spirits returned, and soon he, Henry, and Barringford were chatting as though nothing out of the ordinary was occurring, yet down in his heart, each felt that this search for little Nell was going to prove a serious and, most likely, a dangerous undertaking.
"Where is Sir William Johnson now?" asked Dave, presently, after several miles of the trail through the forest had been covered.
"Somewhere near Fort Johnson," answered Barringford. "He's out to get the Six Nations to join General Prideaux's army either at Fort Stanwix or at Oswego—if Prideaux can get that far. Johnson is the very best man they could send to the Indians."
"Were you ever out with him?" asked Henry.
"Many a time, lad. He's a great hunter, too, let me tell you can hit the bull's-eye at a hundred paces without half trying. And when it comes to dancing an Indian war dance he can do that, too."
"And yet he's an Irish nobleman!"
"Yes, I allow as how he's an odd mixture of a man. But that mixture makes him just the right kind for the redskins. He understands 'em—top, bottom and sides, as the saying goes. He appeals to their brains as well as their instincts—and when
