no good reason why we should n't have it, too."
"I don't see"—began Robert.
"Hold on a bit an' I 'll show ye. How many colonies are there?"
"Thirteen."
"Exac'ly. Now, how many hairs has Phil Schuyler left on th' top o' his head?"
"I have n't any idea."
"Well, it's exac'ly thirteen; an' his wife, Mistress Catherine Schuyler, braids 'em up every night most 'mazin' careful, I'm told, so 't not one o' th' magic number 'll get lost. Then Marthy Washington has a cat with thirteen stripes 'round his tail; she won't have any other kind, I hear. The rebels are just clean daft over the number thirteen; so we thought if there was so much in that number, we'd try it a spell ourselves. An' it seems t' have worked like a charm so far. I think ye said ye was tired," he added abruptly.
"Yes, I am," replied Robert quickly.
"Jest stretch yerself on those blankets in the corner there. I 'll keep watch over ye so 't nothin' comes t' harm ye." The giant laughed good-naturedly, and Robert was tempted for the moment to try to induce him to permit him to escape.
