ere we slept, and walking into the orchard found him pacing
there, where the moon cast filmy shadows on the grass. By day as he went
around among the men his brow was unclouded, though his face was stern.
But now I surprised the man so strangely moved that I yearned to comfort
him. He had taken three turns before he perceived me.

"Davy," he said, "what are you doing here?"

"I missed you, sir," I answered, staring at the furrows in his face.

"Come!" he said almost roughly, and seizing my hand, led me back and
forth swiftly through the wet grass for I know not how long. The moon
dipped to the uneven line of the ridge-pole and slipped behind the stone
chimney. All at once he stopped, dropped my hand, and smote both of his
together.

"I WILL hold on, by the eternal!" he cried. "I will let no American read
his history and say that I abandoned this land. Let them desert! If ten
men be found who will stay, I will hold the place for the Republic."

"Will not Virginia and the Congress send you men, sir?" I asked
wonderingly.

He laughed a laugh that was all bitterness.

"Virginia and the Continental Congress know little and care less about
me," he answered. "Some day you will learn that foresight sometimes
comes to men, but never to assemblies. But it is often given to one man
to work out the salvation of a people, and be destroyed for it. Davy, we
have been up too long."

At the morning parade, from my wonted place at the end of the line, I
watched him with astonishment, reviewing the troops as usual. For the
very first day I had crossed the river with Terence, climbed the heights
to the old fort, and returned with my drum. But no sooner had I
beaten the retreat than the men gathered here and there in groups that
smouldered with mutiny, and I noted that some of the officers were
amongst these. Once in a while a sentence like a flaming brand was
flung out. Their time was up, their wives and children for all they knew
sculped by the red varmints, and, by the etarnal, Clark or no man living
could keep them.

"Hi," said one, as I passed, "here's Davy with his drum. He'll be
leadin' us back to Kaintuck in the morning."

"Ay, ay," cried another man in the group, "I reckon he's had his full of
tyranny, too."

I stopped, my face blazing red.

"Shame on you for those words!" I shouted shrilly. "Shame on you, you
fools, to desert the man who would save your wives and children. How are
the redskins to be beaten if they a