In such manner they spent the remaining hours of the night, and when it was light enough, made a thorough search of the woods all around the encampment, but not the slightest evidence could they find that any one had been in that vicinity.
“We’ll have to give it up,” Late finally said, “an’ get breakfast so’s to be off. But I swaney, my arm is still lame where I struck some one or something last night. I know ’twasn’t a nightmare.”
Half an hour later the boys were moving westward again, and not until the sun was directly overhead did they halt. Perhaps they might not have stopped just then, but, on coming into a little clearing, the lads caught sight of an old man cooking fish near the river bank. A canoe was drawn up near him, in which was the usual outfit of a voyager. He clearly was not suspecting any danger, for his rifle lay in the boat, and he made no effort to reach it on seeing them. Instead he cried cheerily:
“Good day, lads. Come along and have a bite with your uncle David. There are fish enough for three, and you are as welcome as if you had caught and cooked them yourselves.”
Holding their guns ready for instant use the boys advanced, and he, noting their caution, laughed merrily.
“Put up your shooters, youngsters, for David Daggett never yet hurt a human being, white or Indian. It isn’t his mission,” and then, lowering his voice as though he was imparting a profound secret, he continued, “Don’t you know who it is? Haven’t you heard of me before?”
Being told by the young scouts that they had never seen or heard of him before, and, therefore, could not know what his mission might be, he seemed disappointed.
“Never heard, eh? I thought the whole world knew of me. I am David Daggett, and my mission is to reckon up the birds of the forests. I have traveled miles doing it, and do you see that one flying across the river? He makes exactly twenty thousand I have counted. It’s slow work, lads, but David Daggett will some day be able to tell just how many birds there are in the Mohawk valley.”
The young scouts could but believe that the old man was crazy. They laid down their rifles, threw off the packs, and partook of the food which he, with a liberal hand, gave them. When, however, the boys would have contributed their share to the noon-day meal, he stopped them.
“No, no,” he said. “You are my guests now,” and, with a cunning glance, “though no one knows where I get my money, I always have enough to buy food for myself and my friends.”