“Now, my girl, we’re fairly under way,” he said, when they had proceeded some distance, “and I’ll tell you the promised story.”
“I should like to hear it, Captain Strong. I can not conceive how you escaped from the fort.”
He smiled.
“Men relent, sometimes,” he answered. “After the abandonment of the siege, they placed me on trial, and I found that a current had set in in my favor. But many cried like wolves for my death—among them, one Levi Armstrong. But a vote was taken, and a meager majority pronounced in favor of my exile. I swore never to return to the “fire-lands,” and they marched me down to the river and shoved me off with every thing I called my own. I was glad to get off, for, girl, I expected to die. If it hadn’t been for you and your father, I’d have been with the king’s soldiers now.”
“How did I prevent you?” asked Huldah.
“You told your father that you heard me whispering to Sawyer at the gate, and the old man resolved to nab me then.”
“Then, Captain Strong, you really are a traitor?” said the girl, bitterly.
He bit his lip and looked daggers at her before he spoke again.
“Well—yes; but it is a hard name to bear.”
“You poisoned the well.”