camp. Wilton and Carson were lads of mettle, full of talk of
Philadelphia, then the greatest city in the British Colonies, and
related to most of its leading families, as was Colden too, his family
being a branch of the New York family of that name. Robert was at home
with them at once, and they were eager to hear from him about Quebec
and the latest fashions of the French, already the arbiters of
fashion, and recognized as such, despite the war between them, by
English and Americans.

"I had hoped to go to Quebec myself," said Wilton reflectively, "but I
suppose it's a visit that's delayed for a long time now."

"How does it happen that you, a Quaker, are second in command here?"
asked Robert.

"It must be the belligerency repressed through three or four
generations and breaking out at last in me," replied Wilton, his eyes
twinkling. "I suppose there's just so much fighting in every family,
and if three or four generations in succession are peaceful the next
that follows is likely to be full of warlike fury. So, as soon as the
war began I started for it. It's not inherent in me. As I said, it's
the confined ardor of generations bursting forth suddenly in my
person. I'm not an active agent. I'm merely an instrument."

"It was the same warlike fury that caused you to come here, build your
fire and set no watch, expecting the woods to be as peaceful as
Philadelphia?" said Colden.

Wilton colored.