s long pipe. "War is war, and when
we call it civilized we only mean that invention has multiplied and
elaborated our methods of taking life. A commander can but use the
surest means to his end against his enemy that the circumstances afford.
A soldier is at best but the instrument of the times."

"And what of the torture, the knife, the fagot?" demanded Demere,
excitedly. "What do you think of them?"

"I never, dear Captain Demere, think of them, in a garrison of two
hundred men in a little mud fort on the frontier, with the Cherokees
three thousand strong just outside, toward whom I have been admonished
to mind my pretty manners. But since you are so keen to reason it out, I
will remind you that until comparatively recently the torture was one of
our own methods of punishment, or coercion, tending to the disclosure of
secret conspiracies or any other little matter that the government might
want to know and could not otherwise find out, and was practiced,
thumb-screws, iron-boot, and all, in the worshipful presence of men of
high estate--councils, commissions, and what not! Men and women--women,
too!--have been burned alive in England under due authority because
their style of piety was not acceptable. They were Christians, to be
sure, but not exactly the highest fashion of Christian. You will say all
this was long ago. Granted! but if such practices still obtain in such
an oligarchy as Oconostota's realm,--the frontier being, paradoxically,
a little in the rear of the times,--should we be surprised? No! I don't
think of such things. I keep my mind on the discipline of the garrison,
and control my temper very nicely when in the presence of the Cherokee
kings, and bless God and the Earl of Loudon for the cannon at the
embrasures and the powder and ball in the magazine."

He leaned forward suddenly to examine with momentary interest the sole
of his boot as he sat with his leg crossed, then with a bantering "Eh,
Captain Quawl?" he glanced up with a smile of _camaraderie_ at Captain
Demere as if to test the effect of his argument, and finally laughed
outright at his friend's silent gravity.

Such arguments were the ordinary incidents in the great hall of the
block-house of the northwest bastion. The time hung heavily on the hands
of the officers of the garrison. For beyond the military routine, a
little hunting and fishing, a little card and domino playing, a little
bout now and again of fencing, there was naught to rel