paging crazy by this here
purty gal o' Gilbert Stair's."

Now you have read thus far in my poor tale to little purpose if you have
not yet discovered the major weakness of an old campaigner, which is to
weigh and measure all the chances, holding it to the full as culpable to
strike too soon as too late. This weakness was mine, and in that evil
moment I gave my vote for further waiting, arguing sapiently that my old
field-marshal would never set a night assault afoot till well on toward
the dawn.

Jennifer heard me through and yielded, perforce, though with little
good-will.

"I can not compass it alone, or, by the gods, I'd go!" he asserted,
angrily. "Mark you, John Ireton, this delay is a thing you'll rue whilst
you live. Your cold-cut pros and cons mouth well enough, and I'm no
soldier-lawyer to argue them down. But something better than your
damnable reasons tells me that the hour has struck--that these very
present seconds are priceless." Whereupon he flung himself face down in
the grass and would not speak again until the waiting time was fully
over and Yeates gave the word to fall in line for the advance.

Having learned the lay of the land in his earlier reconnaissance, the
old borderer shortened the distance for us by guiding us across the neck
of a horseshoe bend in the stream; and a half-hour's blind groping
through the forest fetched us out upon the river bank again, this time
precisely opposite the Indians' lodge fire on the other side.

Here there was a little pause for three of us while Ephraim Yeates crept
down the bank to try with his sounding-pole what chance we had of
crossing.

Measured by what could be seen from our covert, the narrow width of
quick water seemed the last of the many obstacles.

Lulled to security, as we guessed, by the apparent success of their ruse
to throw us off the scent, six of the Cherokees were lying feet to fire
like the spokes of a wheel for which the fitful blaze was the hub. The
seventh man was squatted before a small tepee-lodge of dressed skins,
which, as we took it, would be the sleeping quarters of the captives.
Whilst all the others lay stiff and stark as if wrapped in soundest
sleep, this sentry guard, too, it seemed, was scarcely more than half
awake, for as we looked, his gun was slipping from the hollow of his arm
and he was nodding to forgetfulness.

Richard was a-crouch beside me in this peeping reconnaissance, and I
could feel him trembling in impatie