"Not a landmark missing!" he shouted, "and my signs all witnessed for
record by Peter and Cato! How do the southwest landmarks stand?"
"The tenth pine is blasted by lightning," said Dorothy, walking her
beautiful gray to Sir Lupus's side.
"Pooh! We've a dozen years to change trees," said Sir Lupus, in great
content. "All's well everywhere, save at the Fish-House near the
Sacandaga ford, where some impudent rascal says he saw smoke on the
hills. He's doubtless a liar. Where's Sir George?"
Sir George sauntered forth from the doorway where he had been standing,
and begged us to dismount, but the patroon declined, saying that we had
far to ride ere sundown, and that one of us should go around by
Broadalbin. However, Dorothy and I slipped from our saddles to stretch
our legs while a servant brought stirrup-cups and Sir George gathered a
spray of late lilac which my cousin fastened to her leather belt.
"Tory lilacs," said Sir George, slyly; "these bushes came from cuttings
of those Sir William planted at Johnson Hall."
"If Sir William planted them, a rebel may wear them," replied Dorothy,
gayly.
"Ay, it's that whelp, Sir John, who has marred what the great baronet
left as his monument," growled old Peter Van Horn.
"That's treason!" snapped the patroon. "Stop it.
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