“Go on,” said he, with a contemptuous sniff.
“I must ask you a question or two first,” I replied.
“Dr. Knapp, how many wounded are in your care?”
“They are in Father Cleary’s care at present,” he answered. “But I have seven, Carew.”
“And how many are fit to travel, on foot or on sledges?”
He reflected for a moment, looking at me with surprise.
“Two will die before night,” he said, “and a third is in a bad way. The other four might make a shift on snowshoes.”
“It is better than I expected,” said I. “And now for my plan. This house, with its loopholes and heavy shutters, was constructed for such an emergency as the present. I suggest that we at once move in the wounded, three or four sledges, all the powder and ball and a quantity of provisions. If the attack comes, and we see that we can’t repulse it, we will all take shelter here, and in time to withdraw the men from other points. The house is practically fireproof, and I am sure we can hold it for a week or more, if need be.”
“It would catch fire from the outbuildings,” suggested the doctor.
“The Indians won’t burn those,” said I. “They will save them for their own protection.”