“And how long are we to wait for the remainder of the detachment? Three days seem like a month, when one is tied up here, half frozen.”
“There is no reason why the attack could not have been made two days ago,” the first speaker replied. “I am told that those who should join us were halted at Port Ryers, but it is possible they may be here at any moment.”
“There is nothing to delay us an hour after they come.”
Then the men began speculating upon the possible defence which might be made by our people at Presque Isle, Alec and I listening intently for that which would give us further hint as to the proposed movement.
It appeared to be the belief of the men that our settlement would offer but little resistance, and I was surprised to know how well informed they were concerning the condition of affairs.
I question if my father could have told them more regarding the vessels on the stocks, or the length of time which might be required to finish them. It was evident beyond a question that in Presque Isle some one who had been trusted with all the details—perhaps one in authority—was playing the traitor.
During fully an hour these men talked of that which they counted to do, treating the matter as if the capture of Presque Isle was but a trifling task; and we—Alec and I—grew alternately hot and cold, as we realized what valuable information it would be possible to give were we at liberty.
Not until nightfall was any attention paid us, and then the door of the pen was opened, that a soldier might thrust in two small squares of corn-bread.
“The snow will serve instead of water,” he said, with a leer; and then we were alone once more.
Until this time neither of us had spoken; each was so intent upon forming some plan of escape that he had no desire to talk of aught else.