iot smiled at Clark.
"And there's another point of resemblance between myself and Monsieur
Vigo."

"Have you taken the paper money?" I demanded.

Monsieur Gratiot slapped his linen breeches. "That I have," and this
time I thought he was going to laugh. But he did not, though his eyes
sparkled. "And do you think that the good Congress will ever repay me,
Davy?"

"No, sir," said I.

"Peste!" exclaimed Monsieur Gratiot, but he did not seem to be offended
or shaken.

"Davy," said Colonel Clark, "we have had enough of predictions for the
present. Fetch this letter to Captain Bowman at the garrison up the
street." He handed me the letter. "Are you afraid of the Indians?"

"If I were, sir, I would not show it," I said, for he had encouraged me
to talk freely to him.

"Avast!" cried the Colonel, as I was going out. "And why not?"

"If I show that I am not afraid of them, sir, they will think that you
are the less so."

"There you are for strategy, Gratiot," said Colonel Clark, laughing.
"Get out, you rascal."

Tom was more concerned when I appeared.

"Don't pester 'em, Davy," said he; "fer God's sake don't pester 'em.
They're spoilin' fer a fight. Stand back thar, ye critters," he shouted,
brandishing his rifle in their faces. "Ugh, I reckon it wouldn't take a
horse or a dog to scent ye to-day. Rank b'ar's oil! Kite along, Davy."

Clutching the letter tightly, I slipped between the narrowed ranks, and
gained the middle of the street, not without a quickened beat of my
heart. Thence I sped, dodging this group and that, until I came to the
long log house that was called the garrison. Here our men were
stationed, where formerly a squad from an English regiment was quartered.
I found Captain Bowman, delivered the letter, and started back again
through the brown, dusty street, which lay in the shade of the great
forest trees that still lined it, doubling now and again to avoid an
idling brave that looked bent upon mischief. For a single mischance
might set the tide running to massacre. I was nearing the gate again,
the dust flying from my moccasined feet, the sight of the stalwart Tom
giving me courage again. Suddenly, with the deftness of a panther, an
Indian shot forward and lifted me high in his arms. To this day I recall
my terror as I dangled in mid-air, staring into a hideous face. By
intuition I kicked him in the stomach with all my might, and with a howl
of surprise and rage his fingers gripped into my flesh.