“It holds the traitors in fear, at any rate. They dare not be insolent when the war reddens their hearths.”
“As a Commissioner of the King, Sir John, I protest against the introduction of savage tribes into His Majesty’s army. It may be carried out in violence to this opinion, for in war men become ruthless; but so far as I have influence with the Ministry this odious policy shall not prevail.”
Butler, regardless of the low breeding exhibited by the act, stood in the door, and listened to this conversation; but as the stranger ceased speaking, Sir John looked up, and called out cheerfully, like one who gets a much-needed ally:
“Ha, Butler, is it you? Come in—come in; we are just discussing a subject with which you are more familiar than I am. Mr. Murray, this gentleman belongs to the king’s army—Capt. Walter Butler, of the Tryon Rangers. As half his father’s forces are Indians, he will be able to speak advisedly on the question we were discussing, or, I am afraid, almost disputing.”
The two gentlemen saluted each other rather distantly. Then Butler turned to his host and said, with a dash of offhand impudence:
“No war or politics for me, Sir John. I came on a very different errand; so cut the field and give me some dinner, unless your negroes in the kitchen are hacking away at the venison and roast-beef as usual, before the master is through with his dessert.”
Sir John laughed, knocked on the table with the handle of his knife, and ordered the black slave, who obeyed the summons, to see that something was sent up from the kitchen fit for a gentleman to eat.
The slave grinned till his white teeth glittered again, and went lazily towards the kitchen. Meantime Butler went into the hall, threw his hat and whip on a table, and strode back with his spurs ringing on the sanded floor, and his fine hair half escaping from the crimson ribbon that gathered it in a queue behind.
“I beg ten thousand pardons,” he said, throwing himself on a seat, and leaning his elbow on the table, with his back half turned upon the stately guest. “Pray, congratulate me, Sir John. I forgot to tell you that it is a married man you have the honor of entertaining.”
“Hallo, Butler, what is this? Married—what—you? Nonsense!”