Those who read this romance for the sake of what history it maycontain will find the histories from which I have helped myself moreprofitable.
Those antiquarians who hunt their hobbies through books had best dropthe trail of this book at the preface, for they will draw but a blankcovert in these pages. Better for the antiquarian that he seek themansion of Sir William Johnson, which is still standing in Johnstown,New York, and see with his own eyes the hatchet-scars in the solidmahogany banisters where Thayendanegea hacked out polished chips. Itwould doubtless prove more profitable for the antiquarian to thumbthose hatchet-marks than these pages.
But there be some simple folk who read romance for its own uselesssake.
To such quiet minds, innocent and disinterested, I have some littleconfidences to impart: There are still trout in the Kennyetto; thewild ducks still splash on the Vlaie, where Sir William awoke theechoes with his flintlock; the spot where his hunting-box stood isstill called Summer-House Point; and huge pike in golden-greenchain-mail still haunt the dark depths of the Vlaie water, even onthis fair April day in the year of our Lord 1900.