"Close the gates," commanded Franklin, "and call the pickets in." He was outwardly calm, though cold sweat stood out upon his forehead, and Captain Wells stood by in silent distress. Before any one had time to speak, Black Partridge was gone. He passed through the gates almost at the moment they rumbled into place, and fled like a deer to join his people.
"I suppose," said the trader, "that in the face of this you will not march to-morrow."
"Yes," cried the Captain, in a voice that rang; "we march to-morrow in spite of hell!"
Beside himself with fear, anger, and pain, Mackenzie rushed out and told the first soldier he met all that had passed. In an instant there was the sound of hurrying feet and the Fort was aflame with rebellion. "Wells," said Franklin, quietly, "I wish you'd go to the barracks. You may be needed there."
But the barracks were empty. As the guns thundered the signal for the pickets to return, the men gathered around Ronald. Instinctively, in times of trouble, they looked to him.
"Go to the barracks, boys," he said, in a low tone, "and wait for me there. I'll do what I can."
A white figure appeared at a window and the Lieutenant went in to speak to Katherine. Doctor Norton went straight to the Captain.
Franklin's eyes were blazing and his body was tense. The martial spirit of the frontier had set his blood aflame. His fingers fairly itched for his sword, and his hands were clenched. "Captain," said the Doctor, calmly, "is there no other way?"
"No," cried Franklin; "there is no other way! Are you a coward that you ask me this?"