In the lodge of John Meyndert the Weisers settled themselves in November. It was not clean, but they could endure discomfort a little longer. The chief difficulty was the drunkenness of Meyndert, who had learned the white man's evil habit.
From Meyndert John Conrad and his son tried, in the long, idle hours, to learn the Indian language. They hunted eagerly for work in the settlement, but there was no work to be had. With thankfulness John Conrad accepted the offer of an Englishwoman to take Sabina into service. The Indian lodge was not a suitable home for either her or little Barbara. At restless, unhappy Conrad his father looked uneasily. Even the village of Schenectady offered mischief to idle hands.
"You could teach the little children, lad," said he.
"I want a man's work," answered Conrad sullenly.
Then, as in the London fog, Conrad had a strange experience.
There was fog, also, here by the Mohawk River, by which he walked early one November morning. Again he went with head bent, kicking the leaves and pebbles before him. Again he felt that stubborn head strike an obstacle and himself fly backward. When, in amazement, he picked himself up, he was confounded. There was no obstacle before him. There was neither tree nor rock. Puzzled and alarmed, he turned toward the settlement. Presently he looked back. By this time the mist had lifted, and behind him he saw a gigantic Indian. Conrad stopped as though his feet were weighted and the great body, wrapped in a bright new blanket, bore down upon him. The Indian grunted his queer "Ho, Ho," and motioned Conrad to lead the way. That he had no unkindly intention was made clear by the smile which his little trick brought to his face.
At the first flat rock to which they came he bade Conrad sit down. He drew from the bundle which he carried on his shoulders a loaf of Indian bread and broke off a large piece.
"Eat," said he in the Mohawk language. "Who are you?"
"I am John Conrad Weiser's son Conrad," answered Conrad, thankful for each moment spent in learning the rudiments of John Meyndert's language.
"To Weiser we gave a gift. Why does he not come to take it?" This was the meaning of the next sentence as nearly as Conrad could guess.