"Why, it was what you might call the Madeira mood--his old accustomed
temper. He had the hiccoughs, I recall, when he spoke with me. Most
generally he does have them. Yet, speak the truth and shame the devil! he
is sober two days to that Colonel Sillinger's one. If their expedition
fails, it won't be for want of rum. They had twenty barrels when they
started from La Chine, and it went to my heart to see men make such beasts
of themselves."

I could not but smile at this. "The last time I saw you before to-day," I
said, "there could not well have been less than a quart of rum inside
of you."

"No doubt! But it is quite another thing to guzzle while your work is
still in hand. That I never would do. And it is that which makes me doubt
these British will win, in the long-run. Rum is good to rest upon--it is
rest itself--when the labor is done; but it is ruin to drink it when your
task is still ahead of you. To tell the truth, I could not bear to see
these fellows drink, drink, drink, all day long, with all their hard
fighting to come. It made me uneasy."

"And is it your purpose to join us? We are the sober ones, you know."

"Well, yes and no. I don't mind giving your side a lift--it's more my way
of thinking than the other--and you seem to need it powerfully, too.
But"--here he looked critically over my blue and buff, from cockade to
boot-tops--"you don't get any uniform on me, and I don't join any
regiment. I'd take my chance in the woods first. It suits you to a 't,'
but it would gag me from the first minute."

We talked thus until we reached the Cedars. I left Enoch and the escort