“Well, I had hoped not,” rejoined the man. “But who are you, my friend—one of the Green Mountain Boys, that we hear so much about?”
“Not far from the mark, sergeant, or commissary, or whatever is your ditter title; for you belong to the army that's at hand, I take it?” said Dunning.
“O, yes,” briskly returned the other, again looking at his companion, and joining him in a merry laugh. “Yes, I am one of them, and mean to have a hand in stirring up Burgoyne, when we reach him, I assure you.”
“That's right, commissary!” exclaimed Dunning. “You are a der chap of some pluck, I'll warrant it. I begin to ditter like you. What shall I call your name, friend?”
“My name is John Stark, if you will allow,” replied the stranger, with an amused look.
“John Stark? Why, that's your der general's name!” said the hunter, incredulously. “Come, come, friend, you are ditter gumming me. I have seen John Stark—Captain Stark, that was then—now general—the same that was bought back by our folks for a white pony—ditter dog cheap, too, as the British will find, before he is der done with them, or I mistake the amount of fight that's in the critter, amazingly.” [Footnote: When General Stark was exposed for sale in Montreal, by the Indians, by whom he had been captured in the French war, and some of his countrymen were trying in vain to make his savage master set a price on him, an English gentleman happened to ride by on a handsome white pony, which so greatly struck the Indian's fancy, that, pointing after the coveted animal, he exclaimed, “Ah! ugh! me take that you get him.” Whereupon the gentleman was followed, the pony purchased, and, with it, the captive Stark redeemed.]
“Thank you, sir!” heartily exclaimed the former, now evidently as much gratified as amused at what he heard. “In behalf of that same John Stark, I thank you, sir, for your good opinion of him. But where, my good fellow,” he continued, with at look of lively interest, “where did you ever fall in with Captain Stark?”
“Why, in the old war, when he der marched through here with Colonel Hawk, I ditter acted as the colonel's guide over the mountains to Otter Creek. Stark, as I've said, was one of the captains, though I wasn't much with him, to be sure,” replied the hunter, becoming more doubtful and puzzled every moment, at the turn matters were taking.
“Ah! yes, yes,—our hunter guide on that rough march! I remember now. Well, well, the fault is not wholly on one side after all!” said the other, musingly.
“Der—der—ditter how? der—ditter—” began Dunning opening his eyes with an uneasy stare.