“Yes.”
“Son of Hiram Le Geyt over on the Mohawk?”
“Yes.”
For a moment the questioner gazed at him from head to foot, and then blurted out:
“You don’t look like him!”
CHAPTER VI.
THE BEND OF THE WALLOOMSAC.
Not a little startled by the words of the stranger, Ira glanced at General Burgoyne to see what impression they had made upon him. Seeing a look of amusement, rather than suspicion, on the officer’s face, he grew bolder; but was still at loss what reply to make, when he saw a piece of paper lying upon a table in front of the general, on which a name was written in an irregular, scrawling hand.
Instantly the lad recognized it as that of a zealous Tory in an adjoining state, of whom he had heard much. In a twinkling he understood that it was the name of the man before him, who had sent it in to the British commander when he sought an interview.
The glance, the reading, the conclusion, were as a flash, and the next minute he was gazing smilingly at the visitor, as he said:
“I am surprised that you don’t know me, Uncle Horace; but then, it is a long time since we met.”