"I am catching trout for the stranger's breakfast," said 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," replied 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," replied the lad, with the color mounting slightly in his cheek. "She was noticing the feather flies with which I caught the fish, and blamed me for using them. She said it was a shame to catch anything with false pretences."
"She is wise," answered the other, with a faint smile, "but 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 who she may," said Sir William, "be careful of your speech, 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," answered the lad, warmly, and then added, with some 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."
"Perhaps you may meet by accident again," said the other, "and then be careful. But now to more serious things. Perchance your father may have to send you to Albany--perchance to my castle. You can find your way speedily to either. Is it not so?"