Chapter 35 - Page 2

Contrary to the expectations of the young soldiers, he
proved to be a man far advanced in life, and evidently no follower of
the camp. His years might be seventy, and they were indicated more by
the thin hairs of silver that lay scattered over his wrinkled brow, than
by any apparent failure of his system. His frame was meager and bent;
but it was the attitude of habit, for his sinews were strung with the
toil of half a century. His dress was mean, and manifested the economy
of its owner, by the number and nature of its repairs. On his back was a
scantily furnished pack, that had led to the mistake in his profession.
A few words of salutation, and, on the part of the young men, of
surprise, that one so aged should venture so near the whirlpools of the
cataract, were exchanged; when the old man inquired, with a voice that
began to manifest the tremor of age, the news from the contending
armies.

"We whipped the redcoats here the other day, among the grass on the
Chippewa plains," said the one who was called Mason; "since when, we
have been playing hide and go seek with the ships: but we are now
marching back from where we started, shaking our heads, and as surly as
the devil."

"Perhaps you have a son among the soldiers," said his companion, with a
milder demeanor, and an air of kindness; "if so, tell me his name and
regiment, and I will take you to him."

The old man shook his head, and, passing his hand over his silver locks,
with an air of meek resignation, he answered,--

"No; I am alone in the world!"

"You should have added, Captain Dunwoodie," cried his careless comrade,
"if you could find either; for nearly half our army has marched down the
road, and may be, by this time, under the walls of Fort George, for
anything that we know to the contrary."

The old man stopped suddenly, and looked earnestly from one of his
companions to the other; the action being observed by the soldiers, they
paused also.

"Did I hear right?" the stranger uttered, raising his hand to screen
his eyes from the rays of the setting sun. "What did he call you?" "My
name is Wharton Dunwoodie," replied the youth, smiling. The stranger
motioned silently for him to remove his hat, which the youth did
accordingly, and his fair hair blew aside like curls of silk, and opened
the whole of his ingenuous countenance to the inspection of the other.
"'Tis like our native land!" exclaimed the old man with vehemence,
"improving with time; God has blessed both." "Why do you stare thus,
Lieutenant Mason?" cried Captain Dunwoodie, laughing a little. "You show
more astonishment than