for such as I."

The listener smiled kindly.

"You are just the guide I need," he said, and Andy knew there was no
flattery in the words. "I must leave it for you to thank your good
mother for her hospitality. I have been ready for an hour. Lead on, my
boy!"

Silently they stole from the house. The birds twittered as they passed,
for the tall man touched the lower boughs and disturbed the nestlings.

"Bend low," whispered Andy, "the way leads through small spaces."

On they went, sometimes creeping under the hanging rocks, always
clinging to the shelter of trees and bushes. They both knew the danger
that might lie near in the form of a British sentinel.

"The path seems untrodden by foot of man," murmured the stranger,
pausing to draw in a long breath. "You are a wonderful guide."

"I think no one else knows the way," Andy whispered, proudly; "an Indian
showed it to me when I was a child. He was my good friend, he taught me
also to row, and shoot with both arrow and gun. He said I should know
Indian tricks because of my lameness. They might help where strength
failed. He showed me how to creep noiselessly and find paths. I have
trails all over the woods. There is one that leads right among the
Britishers; and they never know. I do this for sport."

The stranger looked sharply at the gliding form ahead.