“What will happen?”
“If all goes as I hope,” I said, “the Indians will be gathered about the brush heap setting it on fire. Then will come my explosion.”
“Good!” exclaimed Carteret. “That ought to serve our purpose. If it only kills enough of the devils the rest will be so frightened that they will not remain long in the neighborhood of Elizabeth. But can you unaided carry those two barrels over the palisade?”
“I have done heavier things,” I answered, thinking of the Salem press.
“It is a risk,” remarked the Captain. “Once among them it will go hard with you if their lynx eyes spy you out.”
“Which is just what I do not intend them to do,” I said. “There is a dead Indian within the stockade. I will put on his feathers, adopt his style of dress, and play at being a savage.”
“’Tis somewhat foolhardy,” commented Carteret, “but you are a brave man, and we have need of such now.”
“Any man would be brave, if he fought for what I do,” was the reply.
“Then go,” responded the commander, “and may the Lord go with you.”
So I made my preparations.