“Hunters,” said Duff; “and I reckon we're in our rights.”
“I'll judge of that,” said our Colonel. “Where are you from?”
“That's no secret, neither. Kaskasky, ten days gone.”
At that there was a murmur of surprise from our companies. Clark turned.
“Get your men back,” he said to the captains, who stood about them. And all of them not moving: “Get your men back, I say. I'll have it known who's in command here.”
At that the men retired. “Who commands at Kaskaskia?” he demanded of Duff.
“Monseer Rocheblave, a Frenchy holding a British commission,” said Duff. “And the British Governor Abbott has left Post St. Vincent and gone to Detroit. Who be you?” he added suspiciously. “Be you Rebels?”
“Colonel Clark is my name, and I am in the service of the Commonwealth of Virginia.”
Duff uttered an exclamatory oath and his manner changed. “Be you Clark?” he said with respect. “And you're going after Kaskasky? Wal, the mility is prime, and the Injun scouts is keeping a good lookout. But, Colonel, I'll tell ye something: the Frenchies is etarnal afeard of the Long Knives. My God! they've got the notion that if you ketch 'em you'll burn and scalp 'em same as the Red Sticks.”
“Good,” was all that Clark answered.