were the slaver and the spy.

Had he been alone Robert would have followed them, though he was quite
certain that Garay must have had some place of sure refuge, else he
would not have ventured into Albany. Even with that recourse his act was
uncommonly bold. If the slaver was daring, the spy was yet more so.
There was nothing against the slaver that they could prove, but the spy
put his neck in the noose.

Robert whistled softly to himself, and he was very thoughtful. Willet,
Tayoga and he had been so completely victorious over Garay in the forest
that perhaps he had underrated him. Maybe he was a man to be feared. His
daring appearance in Albany must be fortified by supreme cunning, and
his alliance with the slaver implied a plan. Robert believed that the
plan, or a part of it at least, was directed against himself. Well, what
if it was? He could meet it, and he was not afraid. He had overcome
other perils, and he had friends, as true and steadfast as were ever
held to any man by hooks of steel. His heart beat high, he was in a
glow, his whole soul leaped forward to meet prospective danger.

He went back into the inn and took his seat with the others. Now it was
Stuart who was talking, telling them of life in the great Southern
colony and of its delights, of the big houses, of the fields of tobacco,
of the horse races, of the long visits to neighbors, and how all who
were anybody were related, making Virginia one huge family.

"Now Cabell and I," he said, "belong to the same clan. My mother and his
father are third cousins, which makes us fourth cousins, or fifth is it?
But whether fourth or fifth, we're cousins just the same. All the people
of our blood are supposed to stand together, and do stand together. Oh,