"The dauphin is an American too, and used to scars, as you know. Can you give me any news from Green Bay in the Wisconsin country?"
"I was ordered to Green Bay last year to see if anything could be done with old Fort Edward Augustus."
"Does my Holland court-lady live there?"
"Not now," he answered soberly. "She's dead."
"That's bad," I said, thinking of lost opportunities.
"Is pretty Annabel de Chaumont ever coming back from France?"
"Not now, she's married."
"That's worse," he sighed. "I was very silly about her when I was a boy."
We had our supper in his quarters, and he busied himself until late in the night with preparations for defense. The whole place was full of cheer and plenty of game, and swarmed like a little fair with moving figures. A camp-fire was built at dark in the center of the parade ground, heaped logs sending their glow as far as the dark pickets. Heads of families drew towards it while the women were putting their children to bed; and soldiers off duty lounged there, the front of the body in light, the back in darkness.
Cool forest night air flowed over the stockade, swaying smoke this way and that. As the fire was stirred, and smoke turned to flame, it showed more and more distinctly what dimness had screened.