strange one. It is called _The Horn of Diarmaid_, but I
seek to prevail on the captain to change it to _The Horn of Mercy_."

"No such name is known to me," and the Receiver shook his head. "But I
will remember it, and send you news."

I hope I did not betray my surprise, but for all that it was
staggering. Of all disguises and of all companies this was the most
comic and the most hazardous. I stared across the river till I had
mastered my countenance, and when I looked again at the two they were
soberly discussing the harbour dues of Boston.

Presently the Receiver's sloop arrived to carry him to Point Comfort.
He nodded to me, and took an affectionate farewell of the Boston man. I
heard some good mouth-filling texts exchanged between them.

Then, when we were alone, the Quaker turned to me. "Man, Andrew," he
said, "it was a good thing that I had a Bible upbringing. I can manage
the part fine, but I flounder among the 'thees' and 'thous.' I would be
the better of a drink to wash my mouth of the accursed pronouns. Will
you be alone to-night about the darkening? Then I'll call in to see
you, for I've much to tell you."

* * * * *

That evening about nine the Quaker slipped into my room.

"How about that tobacco-shed?" he asked. "Is it well guarded?"

"Faulkner and one of the men sleep above it, and there are a couple of
fierce dogs chained at the door. Unless they know the stranger, he will
be apt to lose the seat of his breeches."

The Quaker nodded, well pleased. "That is well, for I heard word in the
town that to-night you might have a visitor or two." Then he walked to
a stand of arms on the wall and took down a small sword, which he
handled lovingly. "A fair weapon, Andrew," said he. "My new sect
forbids me to wear a blade, but I think I'll keep this handy beside me
in the chimney corner."

Then he gave me the news. Lawrence had been far inland with the
Monacans, and had brought back disquieting tales. The whole nation of
the Cherokees along the line of the mountains was unquiet. Old family
feuds had been patched up, and there was a coming and going of
messengers from Chickamauga to the Potomac.

"Well, we're ready for them," I said, and I told him the full story of
our preparations.

"Ay, but that is not all. I would not give much for what the Cherokees
and the Tuscaroras could do. There might be some blood shed and a good
few blazing roof-trees in the back country, but