"You could teach the little children, lad," said he.
"I want a man's work," answered Conrad sullenly.
Then, as in the London fog, Conrad had a strange experience.
There was fog, also, here by the Mohawk River, by which he walked early one November morning. Again he went with head bent, kicking the leaves and pebbles before him. Again he felt that stubborn head strike an obstacle and himself fly backward. When, in amazement, he picked himself up, he was confounded. There was no obstacle before him. There was neither tree nor rock. Puzzled and alarmed, he turned toward the settlement. Presently he looked back. By this time the mist had lifted, and behind him he saw a gigantic Indian. Conrad stopped as though his feet were weighted and the great body, wrapped in a bright new blanket, bore down upon him. The Indian grunted his queer "Ho, Ho," and motioned Conrad to lead the way. That he had no unkindly intention was made clear by the smile which his little trick brought to his face.
At the first flat rock to which they came he bade Conrad sit down. He drew from the bundle which he carried on his shoulders a loaf of Indian bread and broke off a large piece.
"Eat," said he in the Mohawk language. "Who are you?"
"I am John Conrad Weiser's son Conrad," answered Conrad, thankful for each moment spent in learning the rudiments of John Meyndert's language.
"To Weiser we gave a gift. Why does he not come to take it?" This was the meaning of the next sentence as nearly as Conrad could guess.
"And you?" The Indian looked earnestly into Conrad's blue eyes, as though astonished at their vivid color.
The Indian said no more, but rose and walked toward the settlement, motioning Conrad to follow. His long stride soon left Conrad far behind and Conrad started to run, to find a grinning Indian waiting for him behind a tree, or calling to him from the rear. Presently, when the Indian's ruse brought them face to face, Conrad pointed to himself.
He it was who had given the Germans their hearty welcome!
When they entered the settlement, Conrad would have liked to follow the chief as he went from Indian house to Indian house, but he did not dare.
To Meyndert's lodge Quagnant came late in the afternoon, and there sat himself down on a pile of deerskins near the fire. He had come, he said, to hold a conversation with the white chief. At a sign from her husband, John Meyndert's squaw rose and went away, beckoning John Conrad's family to follow. For an instant Conrad thought that he was to remain. Then Quagnant, hitherto so kind, pointed to him, and Meyndert bade him go also. Offended, Conrad did not return till hunger drove him back after dark.