forerunner of the many elements that were to enter in the composition of
the American nation. And the crowd was already cosmopolitan. Difference
of race attracted no attention. Men took no notice of Tayoga because he
was an Indian, unless to admire his tall, straight figure and proud
carriage. Albany had known the Iroquois a century and a half.

Robert's spirits, like Grovenor's, mounted. Here he was with many
friends of his own age and kindred mind. Everything took on the color of
rose. All of them were talking, but his own gift of speech was the
finest. He clothed narrative with metaphor and illustration until it
became so vivid that the others were glad to fall silent and listen to
him, though Robert himself was unconscious of the fact. They made him
relate once more his story of the battle as he saw it from inside the
French lines at Ticonderoga, and, just as he came to the end of the
tale, he caught a glimpse of a tall man entering the tavern.

"Tell us what you saw from the other side," he said to Grosvenor, and
they compelled the reluctant Englishman to talk. Then Robert turned his
eyes toward the tall man who was now sitting at a small table in the
corner and drinking from a long glass. Something familiar in his walk
had caught his attention as he came in, and, under cover of Grosvenor's
talk, he wished to observe him again without being noticed even by his
own comrades.

The stranger was sitting with the side of his face to Robert, and his
features were not well disclosed. His dress was that of a seafaring man,
rough but rather good in texture, and a belt held a long dirk in a
scabbard which was usual at that time. The hand that raised the long
glass to his lips was large, red and powerful. Robert felt that his
first belief was correct. He had seen him before somewhere, though he