“Very well—the sooner the better. You should be beyond reach of our enemies before they invest the fort. Make your preparations and return in a half hour. I’ll have the dispatch ready for you. By the way, how many men do you want?”
“One, General—a guide.”
“Hadn’t you better take a score?”
“They’d be of no use to me, General—and you need them here,” was the firm reply.
“True,” the commander returned reflectively. “Well, come back in half an hour. I’ll have everything in readiness.”
Captain Oliver bowed and withdrew. Just outside of the tent he encountered Farley, Bright Wing, and a number of soldiers. Awkwardly lifting his cap, the whimsical Joe stepped forward and asked:
“Are we goin’ to have a brush with the Britishers an’ redskins, Cap’n?”
“More than a brush, I imagine,” answered the commissary, edging his way through the crowd.
“An’ what’re we goin’ to do?” Farley inquired.