I laughed, feeling no mirth, however, but sensible of my dull pain and my restlessness.
"Sir," said I, "if I have smelled gun-powder, I shall know that same perfume again; and if I have not yet sniffed it, nevertheless I shall know it when I come to scent it. So, gentlemen, I can not see that you are any worse off in experience than I."
A subaltern, smiling, ventured to ask me what kind of Indian was that who enquired me.
"Of Algonquin stock," said I, "but speaks an odd lingo, partly Huron-Iroquois, partly the Loup tongue, I think. He is a Saguenay."
"One of those fierce wanderers of the mountains," nodded an older officer. "I thought they were not to be tamed."
"I owned a tame tree-cat once," remarked another officer.
My friend, Jack-boots, now pulls out a bull's-eye watch with two fobs, and tells the time with a sort of sulky satisfaction. For many of the company arose, and made their several and gallant adieus to Penelope, who suffered their salute on one little hand, while she held yarn and needles in t'other.
But when half the plague of suitors and gallants had taken themselves off to their several duties, there remained still too many to suit young Jack-boots. Too many to suit me, either; and scarce knowing what I did or why, I moved forward to the tree where she was seated on a low swinging limb.
"Penelope," said I, "it is long since I have seen you. And if these gentlemen will understand and pardon the desire of an old friend to speak privately with you, and if you, also, are so inclined, give me a little time with you alone before I leave."
"Yes," she said, "I am so inclined—if it seem agreeable to all."