"He vos right here," came a voice from behind Barringford, and a short, stout individual stepped forward. His hair was red and his shock of a beard bore the same color. Above two sunburnt cheeks peeped two small eyes of blue, ever on a twinkle. He was dressed in the typical suit of the frontiersman of that day, buckskin leggings, coonskin cap and all.
"So you dinks dare vos more fun py me as mit von parrel of vasps, hey?" went on the Dutch trapper. "Vell, how apout dot dime ven you vos going to git dot pird's nest in der hollow dree und you stick your hand py dat vasps' nest, hey? Vosn't dot funny, hey? Ha! ha! ha! I see dot yet—mit you dancing arount like you vos a sailor on a pipe-horn, eh?"
"Gosh! don't mention it, Hans," returned Barringford, ruefully. "I kin feel them pesky wasps yet, fer they war the biggest I ever ran across. But put it thar, old boy, I'm downright glad to see you—an' after all the fightin' we've been a-havin', too. I suppose ye broke loose, didn't ye?"
"Vell I dinks me so," said Hans Schnitzer. "I vos up py dot Mohawk Valley, und I got me into nine fights by von veek vonce, und fourteen fights after dot." He removed his cap. "See dot mark? Dot is vere two Injuns tried to kill me—von mit a tomahawk und der udder mit his shcalpin' knife—dinking I vos dead. But I vasn't dead. I chumped up und ve rasselled und rasselled, und I got dem poth down ven, vot you dinks?—Cheneral Johnson himself come up—und dot vos der last of dose Injuns putty quick I can tole you."
"Good for the general," said Barringford. Then turning, he introduced Dave and Henry, and a general conversation ensued. The boys liked Hans Schnitzer from the start, and having often heard of the comical Dutch trapper, soon felt at home with him. Schnitzer knew exactly where Sir William Johnson's camp was located, and promised to take the party there by the shortest and easiest trail.
The party of four left Cherry Run early the next morning, each in the best of spirits, Schnitzer gaily humming a song of the Fatherland. The trail led almost due north, until a small stream was reached. Here, in a convenient spot, the Dutch trapper had a canoe secreted. This they entered and followed the stream for a distance of thirty miles, when they again struck out on foot, this time over the hills leading into the beautiful Mohawk Valley.
Day after day passed without anything unusual happening. Game was to be had in plenty, and it often made Henry heart-sick to leave it behind without taking a shot.
"A regular Paradise!" he said. "When this war is over, how I would like to come up here and knock around for a few weeks. I reckon I could make it well worth while."
"You'll find game just as plentiful at father's post on the Kinotah," answered Dave. "If father can ever get the post back, you must make a trip out there with me."
Ever since leaving home Dave had wanted to see a bear, and one day, just before the sun was setting, his wish was gratified. But the game was too far away for shooting, and before they could get closer the bear took to his heels and went crashing out of sight in the brushwood.