We next find Segwuna in New York. She was well acquainted with the way thither, for she had traversed it many times. While pursuing her purpose in New York, Segwuna lived with a small band of Iroquois on Staten Island.

Segwuna found much favor among the ladies of the English officers, for her skill as a prophetess was already established.

She now made it her particular business to call often upon the ladies of General Clinton and General Knypthausen; and, also, upon Major Andre in his office, one afternoon, when the principal business of the day was over.

The offices of the Adjutant-General of the British Army were at No. 1 Broadway, in one of those old Dutch houses the entrance of which led up a short flight of steps to a huge door having an iron knocker.

Dormer windows faced the street in the second story, and the hip roof was covered with shingles that were coated with moss and lichens,—evidences of an ancient construction.

When Segwuna rapped with the iron knocker on the huge door, a red-coated English Sergeant opened it, and the prophetess modestly inquired:

“Is Major Andre in?”

“Yes, Madam,” was the reply.

“May I see him?”

“He is very busy,” returned the Sergeant. “Will you give your name, and state your business?”

“Tell him that Segwuna, the Indian prophetess, has news to tell him.”

“Will you come in and be seated?” continued the military man, who ushered her into the outer office of the Adjutant-General.

Segwuna went into the outer office and sat down while the Sergeant rapped on the door of the private office, and a voice within said:

“Come in.”

The Sergeant opened the door carefully and walked up to the desk of the Adjutant-General and stood at attention until Major Andre turned from a letter on his desk and glanced up at the soldier, who saluted:

“What is it?” brusquely asked Andre.

“A young Indian woman, who calls herself Segwuna, the prophetess, wishes to bring you news.”

“Show her in, Sergeant Donovan,” ordered Andre.

The Sergeant went to the outer office, and politely informed Segwuna:

“The Adjutant says that he will see you, Madam.”

Segwuna tripped lightly to the door and entered the presence of one of the most polished and handsome gentlemen of the British army. Dressed in the most fastidious manner, his young and pleasing face shone out with an animated expression of good-will as he arose and bowed gracefully to Segwuna and said:

“Be seated, Miss Segwuna. I have heard very pleasing accounts of you from Madam Clinton. Do you wish to tell me what my fate will be, this evening?”

He had heard the ladies of his acquaintance raving over the wise and peculiar speeches of this Indian maiden, and Major Andre thought that he also ought to have something to relate.

A weak point in the military composition of Andre was his romantic and artistic disposition. He loved the society of ladies. His graceful manners and polished speech and writings gained him friends among the ladies of his associates; but his love of foibles and gossip led him into channels that detracted from his military achievements.

When Segwuna proposed to tell his fortune, he yielded from the very constitution of his nature. He desired to have a good tale to tell his lady friends at the next dinner party, where he was sure to be lionized.

Segwuna simply replied to Major Andre’s question, modestly:

“Yes, Major Andre.”

“I hope that I have no very bad omen in my fortune, Miss Segwuna?” said Andre, quizzically.

“Well, Segwuna shall have to tell you the truth, Major Andre,” replied Segwuna soberly.

“All right, do you believe that I am going to succeed in my enterprise, Segwuna?” asked Andre, bluntly.

“That depends on the will of the Great Spirit, Major Andre,” began Segwuna, as she started to relate her account to the Adjutant-General.

“Segwuna sees that something very momentous to you and your cause is going to happen this moon. The nature of your business concerns the fate of a great fortress and a brave general. I can see the general walking up and down the bank of a great river, waiting to speak to you. He wants you to come to him, but if you go to him, he is sure to give you directions that will bring ruin to you.

“These enterprises will require you to travel by land and by water. If you keep on the water, you will have no harm come to you, but beware of the land.

“The Great Spirit has been kind to you, but he does not love your cause. You are fighting against the will of the Great Spirit when you try to subdue the land to which he gave the Indian corn. The Great Spirit hath decreed that every man is to be his own master, and there is to be no distinction between men, in the land of the Indian’s corn. If the hunters starve, the chiefs are to starve also.

“I can see that you expect a letter of importance. It is to be brought by a boat and a fisherman from a distant city. The letter comes from a gentleman that has your secrets. He writes under a different name from his own.

“There are many trials for you to pass through during the next moon, and if you leave the city on a journey to the general walking on the banks of the great river, you shall lose your life.”

Segwuna paused and said no more.

Andre sat as though fixed to his chair. His thoughts were afar off. The words of the Indian maiden seemed to stun him, and confound his understanding. He started to rise and to speak, but he sat down again, turned away and began to think.

At last he regained enough presence of mind to state to Segwuna:

“I am profoundly impressed with what you say. I shall be pleased to consult you again. I hope that I shall reward you sufficiently by giving you this small token of my esteem,” as he arose and held out in his hand a guinea for Segwuna to accept.

Segwuna arose and declined the proffer of the gold by declaring with dignity:

“I thank you, Mr. Andre, but the Great Spirit hath no token of worth, except His bounteous love and kindness.”

Major Andre could say nothing. He was dumbfounded. He simply bowed Segwuna out, overwhelmed by the startling revelations made by this sagacious Indian prophetess.