DeWatteville became all attention. “How long would the road be?”
“Three leagues,” answered Hemlock.
“Pooh,” remarked the General, relapsing into indifference, “they cannot cut a road that long through the woods.”
“You don’t know Yankee axemen,” said Hemlock, “they will do it in a day and turn your flank.”
The General simply waved his hand contemptuously. Major Henry, knowing from past acquaintance, Hemlock’s worth and intelligence, asked in a respectful tone, “What do you advise?”
“Send me with all the Indians and we will cut them off.”
DeWatteville could not withhold a gesture of horror. “You would fall upon these axemen, you say are coming, butcher them with your hatchets and scalp them. Eh?”
“Every one of them,” answered Hemlock in an exultant voice.
“Faugh, that is not war; that is murder,” said the General, “we will fight the Americans in no such way.”
“It is how they would deal with you,” said Hemlock, “but if you do not want the Indian to fight in the way of his fathers, he will leave you.”