say August or September."
Hadley looked in wonder again at Duncan, then his gaze drifted over Duncan's shoulder. Duncan turned to see Van Grut collapsed on a log, his face in his hands. Something about their explanation had deeply shaken him. Duncan took a step toward the Dutchman, only to have a low warbling whistle draw him away. Conawago had returned to the tree and was now pointing to a nail driven into the trunk three feet above the ground. Duncan reached into his pouch for the one he had taken from the tree where Burke had died. He held the two nail heads together. Each had the same checkerboard pattern on its head.
Duncan dropped to his knees, joining Conawago's search of the loose forest debris beneath the nail. They quickly uncovered another skeletal hand. Though it was incomplete, the bones remaining at the center of the palm were crushed. Conawago gave a low whistle, then blew debris away from more bones. Another hand, clutching a large, tarnished compass. And several small brass buttons.
Suddenly Hadley was beside Duncan, staring at the compass, then extending his hand to touch the nail, halting, the fingers trembling before hastily withdrawing as he saw the dark stain on the wood below the nail.
Duncan extracted the nail with his tomahawk and studied the buttons, worked with a pattern of leaping fish, before dropping them into his pouch and turning to face Hadley. "If you came for the truth," he said to the Virginian, pointing to the collapsed Dutchman, "you'll have to start with him."
Van Grut did not look at them, just clutched his arms together and huddled over the little fire. He was visibly shivering.
Duncan, feeling an unexpected anger, leapt forward, yanking the Dutchman up by his shoulder. Dragging him to the far side of the tree, he pulled away tendrils that had partially obscured another set of carvings, six geometric shapes. Van Grut did not react when Duncan reached into his linen bag to extract his journal. He quickly turned to a sketch of still another boundary tree. Previously he had looked for the signs on the sketched trees, now he read the detailed description. It had had a nail driven into the trunk, approximately three feet from the ground.
"Why is someone killing the surveyors?" he demanded.
Van Grut stared at the shapes with wild, frightened eyes. He began to tremble again.
Conawago rested a hand on Duncan's arm. "I will make tea," he suggested.
Taking an ember from the small fire by the cairn, Conawago quickly lit a cooking fire beyond the log. As he set his little copper pot to boil, Duncan, joined by the old Indian, probed the forest floor near where they had found the fresh skulls. Ten minutes later Van Grut let himself be led to the fire, where he silently accepted a tin mug of tea.
"You said there were other surveyors," Duncan prodded. "You never said what happened to them." He dropped a new discov- cry in front of the Dutchman, a small moccasin of fine doeskin, once exquisitely decorated with dyed quillwork, now stained and mildewed.
Van Grut took a deep sip of the tea before answering. "My employers did not provide many details. It was the sutler in Carlisle where I bought supplies on the company account who spoke of the others, said surveyors must be cheaper by the half dozen. He shared some rum when I sketched his wife and gave him the rendering." He stared into his mug.
"There were three others he knew of in the past few months," he continued. "One named Townsend, the first, a friend of the Iroquois, who was reported dead by misadventure in the wilderness. Another called Cooper, from Connecticut, who traveled with his wife, who was half-Iroquois, half-French, from the Iroquois towns. Very young, very pretty, he said. The only other I know of was the former infantry officer named Putnam, from Philadelphia." Duncan closed his eyes a moment. Townsend and Putnam. Skanawati had mentioned finding dead Europeans on the trail.
"They were to be given tracts of land in payment
Hadley looked in wonder again at Duncan, then his gaze drifted over Duncan's shoulder. Duncan turned to see Van Grut collapsed on a log, his face in his hands. Something about their explanation had deeply shaken him. Duncan took a step toward the Dutchman, only to have a low warbling whistle draw him away. Conawago had returned to the tree and was now pointing to a nail driven into the trunk three feet above the ground. Duncan reached into his pouch for the one he had taken from the tree where Burke had died. He held the two nail heads together. Each had the same checkerboard pattern on its head.
Duncan dropped to his knees, joining Conawago's search of the loose forest debris beneath the nail. They quickly uncovered another skeletal hand. Though it was incomplete, the bones remaining at the center of the palm were crushed. Conawago gave a low whistle, then blew debris away from more bones. Another hand, clutching a large, tarnished compass. And several small brass buttons.
Suddenly Hadley was beside Duncan, staring at the compass, then extending his hand to touch the nail, halting, the fingers trembling before hastily withdrawing as he saw the dark stain on the wood below the nail.
Duncan extracted the nail with his tomahawk and studied the buttons, worked with a pattern of leaping fish, before dropping them into his pouch and turning to face Hadley. "If you came for the truth," he said to the Virginian, pointing to the collapsed Dutchman, "you'll have to start with him."
Van Grut did not look at them, just clutched his arms together and huddled over the little fire. He was visibly shivering.
Duncan, feeling an unexpected anger, leapt forward, yanking the Dutchman up by his shoulder. Dragging him to the far side of the tree, he pulled away tendrils that had partially obscured another set of carvings, six geometric shapes. Van Grut did not react when Duncan reached into his linen bag to extract his journal. He quickly turned to a sketch of still another boundary tree. Previously he had looked for the signs on the sketched trees, now he read the detailed description. It had had a nail driven into the trunk, approximately three feet from the ground.
"Why is someone killing the surveyors?" he demanded.
Van Grut stared at the shapes with wild, frightened eyes. He began to tremble again.
Conawago rested a hand on Duncan's arm. "I will make tea," he suggested.
Taking an ember from the small fire by the cairn, Conawago quickly lit a cooking fire beyond the log. As he set his little copper pot to boil, Duncan, joined by the old Indian, probed the forest floor near where they had found the fresh skulls. Ten minutes later Van Grut let himself be led to the fire, where he silently accepted a tin mug of tea.
"You said there were other surveyors," Duncan prodded. "You never said what happened to them." He dropped a new discov- cry in front of the Dutchman, a small moccasin of fine doeskin, once exquisitely decorated with dyed quillwork, now stained and mildewed.
Van Grut took a deep sip of the tea before answering. "My employers did not provide many details. It was the sutler in Carlisle where I bought supplies on the company account who spoke of the others, said surveyors must be cheaper by the half dozen. He shared some rum when I sketched his wife and gave him the rendering." He stared into his mug.
"There were three others he knew of in the past few months," he continued. "One named Townsend, the first, a friend of the Iroquois, who was reported dead by misadventure in the wilderness. Another called Cooper, from Connecticut, who traveled with his wife, who was half-Iroquois, half-French, from the Iroquois towns. Very young, very pretty, he said. The only other I know of was the former infantry officer named Putnam, from Philadelphia." Duncan closed his eyes a moment. Townsend and Putnam. Skanawati had mentioned finding dead Europeans on the trail.
"They were to be given tracts of land in payment
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