was good, the driver was genial and the weather fine. It was a long trip
and they slept several nights in inns by the way, but Robert always had
pleasant memories of that journey. He was seeing his country under the
most favorable conditions, well cultivated, trim and in the full
freshness of spring.

They reached Albany and his heart beat hard once more. He realized now
that he was one risen from the dead. His reception by Colonel Strong had
shown him that, but he believed the joy of his friends would be great
when they saw him. The coach drew up at the George Inn, and, leaving it
there, he started through the streets, taking no baggage.

It was the same busy little city with its thrifty Dutch burghers. The
tide of war had brought added prosperity to Albany, and he saw about him
all the old signs of military preparations. It was yet a base for the
great campaigns to the northward. Evidently the fear of an attack by
Montcalm had passed, as he did not see apprehension or depression in the
faces of the people.

He went directly to the house of Master Jacobus Huysman, that staunch
friend of his and Tayoga's, and the solid red brick building with its
trim lawns and gardens looked as neat and comfortable as ever. It was
hard to believe that he had gone away, that he had been so long on an
island. Nothing had been changed except himself and he felt different,
much older.

He lifted the heavy brass knocker, and struck thrice. The sound of
footsteps came from within, and he knew at once that they were
Caterina's. Middle-aged, phlegmatic and solid she had loved both him and
Tayoga, despite tricks and teasing, but he knew her very phlegm would