bells. This song, or verse or two, for the singer got no further on account
of the interruption, had drawn Guert's and my attention behind us, or away
from the horses, when a whirling sound was heard, followed immediately by
a loud shout. A sleigh passed within ten yards of us, going down, and the
whirling sound was caused by its runners, while the shout came from a
solitary man, who stood erect, waving his whip and calling to us in a loud
voice, as long as he could be heard. This was but for a moment, however, as
his horses were on the run; and the last we could see of the man, through
the misty moon-light, he had turned his whip on his team, to urge it ahead
still faster. In an instant, Herman Mordaunt was at our side, for the third
time that night, and he called out to us somewhat authoritatively to stop.

"What can all this mean, Guert?" he asked. "Three times have we had
warnings about 'Albany' and the 'river.' I heard this man myself utter
those two words, and cannot be mistaken."

"I dare say, sir, that you may have heard something of the sort," answered
the still incredulous Guert; "for these chaps have generally some
impertinence to utter, when they pass a team that is better than their own.
These blacks of mine, Herman Mordaunt, awaken a good deal of envy, whenever
I go out with them; and a Dutchman will forgive you any other superiority,
sooner than he will overlook your having the best team. That last man had a
spur in his head, moreover, and is driving his cattle, at this moment, more
like a spook than like a humane and rational being, I dare say he asked if
we owned Albany and the river."

Guert's allusion to his horses occasioned a general laugh; and laughter is
little favourable to cool reflection. We all looked out on the solemn and
silent night, cast our eyes along the wide and long reach of the river, in
which we happened to be, and saw nothing but the calm of nature, rendered