toward the Platte, well knowing there were few soldiers left to defend
Fort Frayne, and no cavalry were there to chase them.

"What brings them here? What do they hope to get or gain?" asked Flint.

"I don't know, sir," answered Crabb. "But this I do know, they are
after something and expect to get it. If I might make so bold, sir, I
think the major ought to keep an eye on them blasted halfbreeds at
Hay's."

It set Flint to serious thinking. Pete and Crapaud, paid henchmen of the
trader, had been taking advantage of their employer's absence and
celebrating after the manner of their kind. One of his officers, new
like himself to the neighborhood and to the Indians, had had encounter
with the two that rubbed his commissioned fur the wrong way. A sentry,
in discharge of his duty, had warned them one evening away from the rear
gate of a bachelor den, along officers' row, and had been told to go to
sheol, or words to that effect. They had more business there than he
had, said they, and, under the potent sway of "inspiring bold John
Barleycorn" had not even abated their position when the
officer-of-the-day happened along. They virtually damned and defied him,
too.

The officer-of-the-day reported to the commanding officer, and that
officer called on Mrs. Hay to tell her he should order the culprits off
the reservation if they were not better behaved. Mrs. Hay, so said the
servant, was feeling far from well and had to ask to be excused, when
who should appear but that ministering angel Mrs. Dade herself, and Mrs.
Dade undertook to tell Mrs. Hay of the misconduct of the men, even when
assuring Major Flint she feared it was a matter in which Mrs. Hay was
powerless. They were afraid of Hay, but not of her. Hearing of Mrs.
Hay's illness, Mrs. Dade and other women had come to visit and console
her, but there were very few whom she would now consent to see. Even
though confident no bodily harm would befall her husband or her niece,
Mrs. Hay was evidently sore disturbed about something. Failing to see
her, Major Flint sent for the bartender and clerk, and bade them say
where these truculent, semi-savage bacchanals got their whiskey, and
both men promptly and confidently declared it wasn't at the store.
Neither of them would give or sell to either halfbreed a drop, and old
Wilkins stood sponsor for the integrity of the affiants, both of whom he
had known for years and both of whom intimated that the two specimens
had no need to be