Part 68 (2/2)

”Say what you have to say, but keep outside that gate!” I retorted.

”John Drogue,” says he, ”we came here to burn Summer House, and mean to do it. We know how many you have to defend the place----”

”Oh, do you know that? Then tell me, Jock, if you truly possess the information.”

”Very well,” said he calmly. ”You are two white men, a Montagnais dog, and a girl. And pray tell me, sir, how long do you think you can hold us off?”

”Well,” said I, ”if you are as thrifty with your skins as you have been all day, then we should keep this place a week or two against you.”

”What folly!” he exclaimed hotly. ”Do you think to prevail against us?”

”Why, I don't know, Jock. Ask Beacraft yonder, who hath a bullet in his belly. He's wiser than he was and should offer you good counsel.”

”I offer you safe conduct if you march out at once!” he shouted.

”I offer you one of Beacraft's pills if you do not instantly about face and march into the bush yonder!” I replied.

At that he dashed the flag upon the road and shook his naked sword at me.

”Your blood be on your heads!” he bawled. ”I can not hold my Indians if you defy them longer!”

”Well, then, Jock,” said I, ”I'll hold 'em for you, never fear!”

He strode to the fence and grasped it.

”Will you march out? Shame on you, Stormont, who are seduced by this Yankee rabble o' rebels when your place is with Sir John and with the loyal gentlemen of Tryon!

”For the last time, then, will you parley and march out? Or shall I give you and your Caughnawaga wench to my Indians?”

I walked out from behind my tree and drew near the fence, where he was standing, his sword hanging from one wrist by the leather knot.

”Jock Campbell,” said I, ”you are a great villain. Do you lay aside your hanger and your pistols, and I will set my rifle here, and we shall soon see what your bragging words are worth.”

At that he drove his sword into the earth, but, as I set my rifle against a tree, he lifted his pistol and fired at me, and I felt the wind of the bullet on my right cheek.

Then he s.n.a.t.c.hed his sword and was already vaulting the gate, when my Saguenay's bullet caught him in mid-air, and he fell across the top rail and slid down on the muddy road outside.

Then, for the first time, I saw the two real Mohawks where they lay in ambush in the bush. One of them had risen to a kneeling position, and I saw the red flash of his piece and saw the smoke blot out the tree-trunk.

For a second I held my fire; then saw them both on the ground under the alders across the road, and fired very carefully at the nearest one.

He dropped his gun and let out a startling screech, tried to get up off the ground, screeching all the while; then lay scrabbling on the dead leaves.

I stepped behind an apple tree, primed and reloaded in desperate haste, and presently drew the fire of the other Indian with my cap on my ramrod.

Then, as I ran to the gate, my Saguenay rushed by me, leaping the fence at a great bound, and I saw his up-flung hatchet sparkle, and heard it crash through bone.

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