On the following day, when the Indian encampment was changed to the vicinity of Fort Stanwix, Late was taken along as a matter of course, and, later, brought with other prisoners to Colonel St. Leger for his personal inspection.
By the side of the colonel stood David Daggett and Hiram Le Geyt, and immediately the old Tory saw Late he gave vent to a cry of delight.
“We’ve got you at last!” he shouted. “We’ve got you at last!” and then to the commander and his son-in-law he told how he had followed the prisoner and his comrade on their journey from the Hudson to the fort. The attempt to kill them, the overturning of the boat at the falls, driving the half-clad boys into the woods, the destruction of their property, their visit to the farm, and his further pursuit, were all rapidly related. Then he continued:
“The young devils have more lives than a cat. I couldn’t kill them. But now that you have this one, why not string him up to the nearest tree?”
“I could hardly do that,” the colonel replied. “He is not a spy.”
“Yes, he is,” Master Daggett shouted. “He was caught because of hanging around your encampment trying to spy out what was being done.”
“He may be a scout, or courier, but hardly a spy,” the officer persisted.
“But is his entering my house, deceiving my wife, and running off with my property, to pass unnoticed?” interrupted Hiram Le Geyt. “The very clothes he wears belong to me!”
Colonel St. Leger was silent for a moment, and then said:
“I cannot condemn and hang him, according to military rules; but I might turn him over to the Indians. They would make short work of him.”