long hours of the night, in a nervous condition pitiable to behold.

When half an hour or more had passed, the old soldier said to me, in a
more kindly tone than I had ever suspected he could use:

"The lad is eatin' his heart out, an' all to no purpose. Can't you quiet
him a bit, Noel?"

"I have said all within my power, an' he turns a deaf ear," I replied,
sadly.

"Then I shall try my fist at it," and the old man went up to my comrade,
taking him gently by the hand, and leading him into the thicket just
beyond view of the encampment.

There the two seemingly conversed for a long time, and I was left
comparatively alone, until the soldier who had told us of General
Herkimer's doings nearabout Johnson Hall, came up.

Eager to get some idea of what the commander might be able to do with this
Joseph Brant, whose name stood in my mind for all that was horrible in the
way of cruelty, I asked how it was that General Herkimer could hope to
influence one who was such a great enemy to the Whigs of the Mohawk
Valley, and, in fact, to all white men save those who wore the uniform of
the British king.

He told me that at one time, before Thayendanega had become so powerful a
sachem, he and General Herkimer were near neighbors, and quite intimate
friends.