Ben's hand went up quick enough. The gunners ceased firing and M. Radisson sheathed his sword with a laugh.
"You'll not take the odds? Take advice instead! Take a man's advice, and never waste powder! You'll need it all if he's king who conquers! Besides," he added, turning suddenly serious, "if my forces learn you are here I'll not promise I've strength to restrain them!"
"How many have you?" blurted Ben.
"Plenty to spare! Now, if you are afraid of the Hudson's Bay Company ships attacking you, I'd be glad to loan you enough young fire-eaters to garrison the fort here!"
"Thanks," says Ben, twirling his mustaches till they were nigh jerked out, "but how long would they stay?"
"Till you sent them away," says M. de Radisson, with the lights at play under his brows.
"Hang me if I know how long that would be," laughed Gillam, half-puzzled, half-pleased with the Frenchman's darting wits.
"Ben," begins M. Radisson, tapping the lace ruffle of Gillam's sleeve, "you must not fire those guns!"
"No?" questions Gillam.
"My officers are swashing young blades! What with the marines and the common soldiers and my own guard, 'tis all I can manage to keep the rascals in hand! They must not know you are here!"