"Thou art out early, Walter," said Sir William. "What do you at this hour?"
"I am catching trout for the stranger's breakfast," replied the lad, with a gay laugh. "You should have had your share, had you but waited."
"Who was that speaking to you on the bank above?" asked the other, gravely.
"Merely an Indian girl watching me fishing," responded Walter Prevost.
"I hope your talk was discreet," rejoined Sir William. "These are dangerous times, when trifles are of import, Walter."
"There was no indiscretion," returned the lad, with the colour mounting slightly in his cheek. "She was remarking the feather-flies with which I caught the trout, and blamed me for using them. She said it was a shame to catch anything with false pretences."
"She is wise," observed the other, with a faint smile; "yet that is hardly the wisdom of her people. An Indian maiden!" he added, thoughtfully. "Of what tribe is she? One of the Five Nations, I trust?"
"Oh, yes--an Oneida," replied Walter; "one of the daughters of the Stone; the child of a Sachem, who often lodges at our house."
"Well, be she whom she may," rejoined Sir William, "be careful of your speech, Walter, especially regarding your father's guest. I say not, to conceal that there is a stranger with you, for that cannot be; but, whatever you see or guess of his station, or his errand, keep it to yourself, and let not a woman be the sharer of your thoughts, till you have tried her with many a trial."
"She would not betray them, I am sure," said the lad, warmly; and then added, with slight embarrassment, as if he felt that he had in a degree betrayed himself, "but she has nothing to reveal, or to conceal. Our talk was all of the river, and the fish. We met by accident, and she is gone."