``Maisonville,'' said the man, whereupon Fletcher gave a war-whoop and kicked him again.
``That's no way to use a prisoner,'' said I, hotly.
``Hold your mouth, Davy,'' said Fletcher, ``you didn't ketch him.''
``You wouldn't have had him but for me,'' I retorted.
Fletcher's answer was an oath.They put Maisonville between them, ran him through the town up to the firing line, and there, to my horror, they tied him to a post and used him for a shield, despite his heart-rending yells.In mortal fear that the poor man would be shot down, I was running away to find some one who might have influence over them when I met a lieutenant.He came up and ordered them angrily to unbind Maisonville and bring him before the Colonel.Fletcher laughed, whipped out his hunting knife, and cut the thongs; but he and Willis had scarce got twenty paces from the officer before they seized poor Maisonville by the hair and made shift to scalp him.
This was merely backwoods play, had Maisonville but known it.Persuaded, however, that his last hour was come, he made a desperate effort to clear himself, whereupon Fletcher cut off a piece of his skin by mistake.
Maisonville, making sure that he had been scalped, stood groaning and clapping his hand to his head, while the two young rascals drew back and stared at each other.
``What's to do now?'' said Willis.
``Take our medicine, I reckon,'' answered Fletcher, grimly.And they seized the tottering man between them, and marched him straightway to the fire where Clark stood.
They had seen the Colonel angry before, but now they were fairly withered under his wrath.And he could have given them no greater punishment, for he took them from the firing line, and sent them back to wait among the reserves until the morning.
``Nom de Dieu!'' said Maisonville, wrathfully, as he watched them go, ``they should hang.''
``The stuff that brought them here through ice and flood is apt to boil over, Captain,'' remarked the Colonel, dryly.
``If you please, sir,'' said I, ``they did not mean to cut him, but he wriggled.''
Clark turned sharply.
``Eh?'' said he, ``did you have a hand in this, too?''
``Peste!'' cried the Captain, ``the little ferret--you call him--he find me on the prairie.I run to catch him with some men and fall into the crick--'' he pointed to his soaked leggings, ``and your demons, they fall on top of me.''
``I wish to heaven you had caught Lamothe instead, Davy,'' said the Colonel, and joined despite himself in the laugh that went up.Falling sober again, he began to question the prisoner.Where was Lamothe? Pardieu, Maisonville could not say.How many men did he have, etc., etc.? The circle about us deepened with eager listeners, who uttered exclamations when Maisonville, between his answers, put up his hand to his bleeding head.
Suddenly the circle parted, and Captain Bowman came through.
``Ray has discovered Lamothe, sir,'' said he.``What shall we do?''
``Let him into the fort,'' said Clark, instantly.
There was a murmur of astonished protest.
``Let him into the fort!'' exclaimed Bowman.
``Certainly,'' said the Colonel; ``if he finds he cannot get in, he will be off before the dawn to assemble the tribes.''
``But the fort is provisioned for a month,'' Bowman expostulated; ``and they must find out to-morrow how weak we are.''
``To-morrow will be too late,'' said Clark.
``And suppose he shouldn't go in?''
``He will go in,'' said the Colonel, quietly.