"Good God!" cried he, "because this poor and moon-smitten gentleman hath rolled sheep's eyes upon a yellow-haired maid, then, in his mind, all the world's aflame to woo her too and take her from his honest arms! What the plague do I want of your sweetheart, Jack Drogue, when I've one at Pigeon Wood and my eye on another, too!"
Then he fell a-laughing and smote his thighs with a loud slapping.
"Aha!" he cried, "did I not warn you? Did I not foresee, foretell, and prophesy that you would one day sicken of a passion for this yellow-haired girl from Caughnawaga!"
"Idiot," said I in a rage, "I do not love her!"
"Then you bear all the earmarks!" said he, and went off stamping his moccasins and roaring with laughter.
And I went on watch to walk my post all a-tremble with fury, and fair sick of jealousy and my first boyish passion.
Now, it is a strange thing how love undid me; but it is still stranger how, of a sudden, my malady passed. And it came about in this way, that toward sunset one day, when I came from walking my post on the veranda roof to find why Nick had not relieved me, I descended the stairs and looked into the kitchen, where was a pleasant smell of cinnamon crullers fresh made and of johnnycake and of meat a-stewing.
And there I did see Nick push Penelope into a corner to kiss her, and saw her fetch him a clout with her open hand.
Then again, and broad on his surprised and silly face, fell her little hand like the clear crack of a drover's whip.