"He has such faith in the loyalty of the Kaskaskians," I answered,
parrot-like.

"Diable!" cried Jules, "we shall perish. We shall be as the Acadians.
And loyalty--she will not save us, no."

Other doors creaked. Other inhabitants came in varied costumes into the
street to hear the news, lamenting. If Clark left, the day of judgment
was at hand for them, that was certain. Between the savage and the
Briton not one stone would be left standing on another. Madame Jules
forgot her breakfast, and fled up the street with the tidings. And then
I made my way to the fort, where the men were gathering about the
camp-fires, talking excitedly. Terence, relieved from duty, had done the
work here.

"And he as little as a fox, wid all that in him," he cried, when he
perceived me walking demurely past the sentry. "Davy, dear, come here
an' tell the b'ys am I a liar."

"Davy's monstrous cute," said Bill Cowan; "I reckon he knows as well as
me the Colonel hain't a-goin' to do no such tomfool thing as leave."

"He is," I cried, for the benefit of some others, "he's fair sick of
grumblers that haven't got the grit to stand by him in trouble."

"By the Lord!" said Bill Cowan, "and I'll not blame him." He turned
fiercely, his face reddening. "Shame on ye all yere lives," he shouted.
"Ye're making the best man that ever led a regiment take the back trail.
Ye'll fetch back to Kaintuck, and draw every redskin in the north woods