"Why, Dave, do you want to become a soldier again?" asked his father, turning to study his son's face.
"Yes, sir," was the prompt response. "I'll tell you why. So long as Canada remains unconquered just so long there is going to be trouble here and elsewhere. But once we show the French we are masters in America we'll have no further fuss, either with them or with the Indians. I go in for settling the matter, and doing it thoroughly and right away, too."
"Gallinippers!" ejaculated Barringford, who stood by, oiling up his flint-lock musket. "Dave, you're a reg'lar lawyer, hang me ef ye ain't! An' the argyment's right to the p'int, too. The Frenchers won't know they're beat until we lick 'em good an' hard, an' I go in fer doin' the lickin' right now. Then, arfter it's done, we kin set out an' plow, an' raise cattle, an' hunt an' trap in peace,—an' the Injun who wants to raise a sculp every ten minits now will sit on a tree stump an' smoke his pipe an' look on," and Barringford shook his head earnestly. "Ain't no ust to talk," he went on. "It's like damming a stream—you dam it about half tight an' the fust lively rain will break the dam to bits; but you dam it good an' hard an' it will stick, no matter how hard it rains and by-an'-by the water will find out it's got to go a new way—an' the French an' Injuns will find they've got to leave the English alone. I ain't much on eddication, but I kin figger thet out, an' so kin any man whose head is level;" and Barringford resumed his gun oiling.
James Morris had much to tell that night—of his many purchases, and of the war talk he had heard at Annapolis and other cities he had visited. He, too, was interested in the expedition against Fort Niagara, for he felt that if the French power was broken in this direction he would be able to return to his trading post on the Kinotah without much fear of molestation from either French or Indians.
It was late that night when there came a sudden thumping on the cabin door. All sprang to their feet in alarm, and each of the men and the boys reached for his firearm, which they were in the habit of having close at hand.
"Who is there?" demanded James Morris.
"It is I—Uriah Risley," came in the well-known voice of the Englishman. "Let me in. I've good news."
At once the cabin door was unbarred and flung back. All crowded forward, to behold Uriah Risley outside, on horseback. Beside him, also on horseback, was his wife, pale and thin, a mere shadow of her former self, but still able to ride alone.
"Well, I declare, Caddy Risley!" screamed Mrs. Morris, and ran out to greet the woman. "Is it really you or your ghost?"
"'Tis really me," was the answer, "although I sometimes feel like a ghost, I'm that thin."