With these Warlock was laden like a pack-horse, leaving room in the saddle for me. Bareshanks held my stirrup; I mounted, shook hands with him, not daring to attempt a word, and, with tears blinding me, turned my horse's head south on the Albany post-road.
Mr. Duncan, standing near the stables, gazed at me in astonishment.
"Ho!" he called out. "More wood-running, Mr. Cardigan? Faith, the scalp-trade must be paying in these humming days of peace!"
I tried to smile and gave him my hand.
"It's good-bye forever," I said, choking. "I cannot use the same roof that shelters my kinsman, Sir John Johnson."
He looked at me very gravely, asking me where I meant to go.
"To Boston," I replied. "I have affairs with one Thomas Foxcroft."
There was a silence, he still holding my hand as though to draw me back.
"Why to Boston?" he repeated, gently.
"To wed Miss Warren," I replied, looking him in the eyes.