e taken to the fort; my financial affairs I explained, telling
him where he might find my papers in case of accident to me. Then I
turned over to him my watch, what money I had of Elsin's, and my own.

"If I do not return," I said, "and if this frontier can not hold out,
send Miss Grey with a flag to New York. Sir Peter Coleville is kin to
her; and when he understands what danger menaces her he will defend her
to the last ditch o' the law. Do you understand, Colonel?"

"No, Carus, but I can obey."

"Then remember this: She must never be at the mercy of Walter Butler."

"Oh, I can remember that," he said drily.

For a few moments I sat brooding, head between my hands; then, of a
sudden impulse, I swung around and laid my heart bare to him--told him
everything in a breath--trembling, as a thousand new-born fears seized
me, chilling my blood.

"Good God!" I stammered, "it is not for myself I care now, Colonel! But
the thought of him--of her--together--I can not endure. I tell you, the
dread of this man has entered my very soul; there is terror at a hint
of him. Can I not stay, Colonel? Is there no way for me to stay? She is
so young, so alone----"

Hope died as I met his eye. I set my teeth and crushed speech into
silence.

"The welfare of a nation comes first," he said slowly.

"I know--I know--but----"

"All must sacrifice to that principle, Carus. Have not the men of New
York stood for it? Have not the men of Tryon given their all? I tell
you, the army shall eat, but the bread they munch is made from
blood-wet grain; and for every loaf they bake a life has been offered.
Where is the New Yorker who has not faced what you are facing? At the
crack of the ambushed rifle our people drop at the plow, and their
dying eyes look upon wife and children falling under knife and hatchet.
It must be so if the army is to eat and liberty live in this country we
dare call our own. And when the call sounds, we New Yorkers must go,
Carus. Our women know it, even our toddling children know it, God bless
them!--and they proudly take their chances--nay, they demand the
chances of a war that spares neither the aged nor the weak, neither
mother nor cradled babe, nor the hound at the door, nor the cattle, nor
any living thing in this red fury of destruction!"

He had risen, eyes glittering, face hardened into stone. "Go to your
betrothed and say good-by. You do not know her yet, I think."

"She is Canadienne," I said.

"She is w