"Some savages are," he observed.
"Was he scalped?" I asked.
"In Mohawk style, lad."
"Impossible!" I cried.
"Not at all. I say he was scalped in Mohawk fashion, leaving the raw strip over the forehead, but I did not say that Mohawks scalped him."
"What do you mean?" I asked, huskily.
"I mean that Walter Butler's men did this, and that your letter is now in Dunmore's hands."
Rage blinded me. Doubtless I made some noise and talked wildly of seeking Dunmore, and I know I found myself struggling with Mount to leave the room. But I was an infant in his grasp, and presently I sat down again, perforce, while Mount and Renard reasoned with me somewhat sternly.
"The sooner you leave Pitt the safer for you," said Mount. "The town talks of little but your accusation of Dunmore last night. You may think yourself safe because you are Sir William Johnson's deputy, but I know that Dunmore and Butler will treat you as they did your messenger if you give them half a chance. What's to prove that the Cayugas be not your murderers? Tush, lad! This is no time for boyish fury. Get your kinswoman, Miss Warren, out of this town. Get her out to-night. Are you waiting for Dunmore's escort and horses? You will see neither, save perhaps in pursuit of you. Why, lad, the Governor is crazed with the disgrace you have brought upon him! Trust me, he will stop at nothing where he can strike unseen."
"You mean he will not answer my letter or accord me escort?" I asked, astonished.