"Do you, then, know anything of this unhappy man, and of the cause of his death?"
"Sartain; know all 'bout him. Kill in ole French war. Fader here; and Colonel Follock; Jaap, too. Huron kill 'em all; afterward we flog Huron. Yes, dat ole story now!"
"I have heard something of this! This must have been the spot, then, where one Traverse, a surveyor, was set upon by the enemy, and was slain, with his chainbearers and axe-men. My father and his friends did find the bodies and bury them, after a fashion."
"Sartain; just so; poor bury, d'ough, else he nebber come out of groun'. Dese bones of surveyor; know 'em well: hab one leg broke, once. Dere; you see mark."
"Shall we dig a new grave, Susquesus, and bury the remains again?"
"Best not, now, Chainbearer mean do dat. Be here by-'m-bye. Got somet'ing else t'ink of now. You own all land 'bout here, so no need be in hurry."
"I suppose that my father and Colonel Follock do. These men were slain on the estate, while running out its great lots. I think I have heard they had not near finished their work in this quarter of the patent, which was abandoned on account of the troubles of that day."
"Just so; who own mill, here, den?"
"There is no mill near us, Susquesus; can be no mill, as not an acre of the Ridge property has ever been sold or leased."
"May be so—mill d'ough—not far off, needer. Know mill when hear him. Saw talk loud."