“The powder, Morgan?” I said, as I approached, just as the men were talking earnestly together, Morgan standing by and holding his empty bucket.
“Yes, sir; the powder,” he replied, turning and giving me a nod before looking back at his companions and saying sadly—
“Then you do mean it, my lads?”
“I do,” said one of the men, sternly; “and I think it’s what we ought to do.”
“Without waiting for orders from our officers?”
“I shouldn’t say do it while they can lead us and help us to fight and drive these demons back. I say when all’s over and we’ve got to the last. I mean when the Indians have got in and are butchering us.”
“Yes, yes,” came in a murmur from one man, “It will be quite right then, and they’ll feel it too.”
“Yes,” said the first, “it wants doing just as they’ve crowded into the place, and the lad among us left living must swear he’ll do it.”
“Don’t need any swearing,” said Morgan, in a low deep voice. “I’m afraid that you’re right, my lads, and for one I’ll promise to do it when it’s all over.”
“Do what?” I said in a whisper, though I felt that I did not need telling.