“What name did he give you, sir?”
“He said: ‘My name is Pierre La Fitte, and I am a merchant of Philadelphia on my way to Feeshkill,’” replied Samuel.
“Why, that’s not his real name,” returned Segwuna. “His name is Roderick Barclugh.”
“Look at that, look at that,” said Jonathan, glaring at Samuel. “I knew that you would be up to great bizness when you asked that rascal to stop at Ben Andrews’. He may be a reg’lar cut-throat.”
“Now, look a’ here, Jonathan, I think that you’re a-pokin’ your nose too far into my way of doin’ things, d’ye hear?” ejaculated Samuel, as he pounded on the floor with his walking-stick, by way of emphasis.
Jonathan Hopper glared at Samuel as he strode off indignantly toward the other part of the room, while Segwuna talked to Samuel Whitesides about Barclugh.
Segwuna immediately took her departure on the road to Princeton as soon as she learned that Barclugh had left for that direction.
The two old cronies agreed that the stranger was more mysterious after they had learned that this Indian girl was following his footsteps.
For weeks afterward Uncle Sam and his friend Jonathan had an incident of consequence to discuss in the queer occurrences of that morning at the inn.