You will answer that question for yourself when you meet your kin, the Varicks and Butlers, he said; and the reply had an insolent ring that did t please me, yet I was loath to quarrel with this boyish giant whose amiable company I had found agreeable on my long journey through a land so new to me. My friend, I said, you are blunt.Only in speech, sir, he replied, lazily swinging one huge leg over the pommel of his saddle. Sitting at ease in the sunshine, he opened his fringed hunting-shirt to the breeze blowing. So you go to the Varicks? he mused aloud, eyes slowly closing in the sunshine like the brilliant eyes of a basking lynx. Do you kw the lord of the mar? I asked. Who? The patroon?I mean Sir Lupus Varick.Yes; I kw him--I kw Sir Lupus. We call him the patroon, though he's t of the same litter as the Livingstons, the Cosbys, the Phillipses, Van Rensselaers, and those feudal gentlemen who juggle with the high justice, the middle, and the low--and who will juggle more.Am I mistaken, said I, in taking you for a Boston man?In one sense you are, he said, opening his eyes. I was born in Vermont.Then you are a rebel?Lord! he said, laughing, how you twist our English tongue! 'Tis his Majesty across the waters who rebels at our home-made Congress.Is it t dangerous to confess such things to a stranger? I asked, smiling. His bright eyes reassured me. Not to all strangers, he drawled, swinging his free foot over his horse's neck and settling his bulk on the saddle. One big hand fell, as by accident, over the pan of his long rifle. Watching, without seeming to, I saw his forefinger touch the priming, stealthily, and find it dry. You are King's man, he said, calmly. Oh, do you take me for a rebel, too? I demanded. No, sir; you are neither the one r the other--like a tadpole with legs, neither frog r pollywog. But you will be.Which? I asked, laughing. My wisdom cant draw that veil for you, sir, he said. You may take your chameleon color from your friends the Varicks and remain gray, or from the Butlers and turn red, or from the Schuylers and turn blue and buff.You credit me with little strength of character, I said. I credit you with some twenty-odd years and experience.With thing more?Yes, sir; with sincerity and a Spanish rifle--which you may have need of ere this month of May has melted into June. I glanced at the beautiful Spanish weapon resting across my pommel. What do you kw of the Varicks? I asked, smiling. More than do you, he said, for all that they are your kin. Look at me, sir! Like myself, you wear deer-skin from throat to ankle, and your se is ever sniffing to windward. But this is a strange wind to you. You see, you smell, but your eyes ask, 'What is it?' You are a woodsman, but a stranger among your own kin. You have never seen a living Varick; you have never even seen a partridge.Your wisdom is at fault there, I said, maliciously. Have you seen a Varick?No; but the partridge--