“What is your answer?” cried the English officer, his impatience manifest in his voice. “Colonel O’Neill pledges his word of honor as a soldier of his majesty’s army, that the tomahawk shall be withheld in the event of a quick surrender. He can control the Wyandots, and he will. If the commander of your fort is Zebulon Strong, he then knows Colonel Argent O’Neill to be a gentleman.”
“Colonel Argent O’Neill—I know him,” said the captain. “But my men refuse to surrender.”
“Colonel O’Neill speaks to Captain Strong—not to his men,” returned the soldier, proudly; but with a sneer of contempt in his tone.
“Go back to your commander and tell him that Fort Strong will be the abode of the dead when he takes it. We know a Briton’s promise to be but another name for a lie.”
The last speaker was Mark Harmon, and his words were applauded as he turned from the embrasure.
“I was about to answer him,” said Strong, in a hoarse voice.
“He is answered!” was the young borderman’s reply.
The captain bit his lips and turned to the port again as the British officer spoke:
“The consequences be upon your own head, Captain Strong,” he said. “I have performed my duty; you have refused to perform yours. My colonel will give the conduct of the siege to the Indians now.”
Thereupon the speaker turned abruptly on his heel, and the flag of truce disappeared over the brow of the hill.