"Come," said Forsyth, smiling, "we're getting serious—let's go back."
"Do you feel all right?"
"Yes; I'm a little shaky, but I guess I'm good for it. Don't say anything about it at the Fort, nor anywhere else—the women would make a great row."
"As you say—it's your business, you know."
In spite of Forsyth's valiant efforts, his progress was slow. "I'm as weak as a woman," he complained, when he was forced to stop and rest for the fourth time.
"You'll make it all right," said the other, cheerily; "take your time. And say, when we get back, come on over to the Fort and get a good stiff drink of whisky—that will set you on your pegs as quickly as anything."
When they came to the river Forsyth sat down and waited until Ronald went down to Mackenzie's, got a pirogue, and came up after him. "Didn't see anybody," said Ronald, in answer to a question, "and it's just as well. You're pretty white around the gills yet."
"Steady," he continued, as the boat grazed the shore, "and in ten minutes you'll be a new man."
Mrs. Franklin and Mrs. Howard were playing battledore on the parade-ground, while Beatrice and the Lieutenant watched them from the piazza. Captain Franklin, Mackenzie, and a couple of Indians were standing in front of the Captain's quarters, and Ronald yearned to join the group and see what was going on. He gave Robert his flask, bade him take it slowly, and rushed out.
The Indians were just leaving, and Captain Franklin had started back to the house, when one of them turned back and said something.