Davy?"

"No, sir," said I.

"Peste!" exclaimed Monsieur Gratiot, but he did not seem to be offended
or shaken.

"Davy," said Colonel Clark, "we have had enough of predictions for the
present. Fetch this letter to Captain Bowman at the garrison up the
street." He handed me the letter. "Are you afraid of the Indians?"

"If I were, sir, I would not show it," I said, for he had encouraged me
to talk freely to him.

"Avast!" cried the Colonel, as I was going out. "And why not?"

"If I show that I am not afraid of them, sir, they will think that you
are the less so."

"There you are for strategy, Gratiot," said Colonel Clark, laughing.
"Get out, you rascal."

Tom was more concerned when I appeared.

"Don't pester 'em, Davy," said he; "fer God's sake don't pester 'em.
They're spoilin' fer a fight. Stand back thar, ye critters," he shouted,
brandishing his rifle in their faces. "Ugh, I reckon it wouldn't take a
horse or a dog to scent ye to-day. Rank b'ar's oil! Kite along, Davy."

Clutching the letter tightly, I slipped between the narrowed ranks, and