“If I am obliged to storm, you may depend upon such treatment as is justly due to a murderer. And beware of destroying stores of any kind, or any papers or letters that are in your possession; or of hurting one house in the town. For, by Heaven! if you do, there shall be no mercy shown you.
“To Lieutenant-Governor Hamilton.”
So read Colonel Clark, as he stood before the log fire in Monsieur Bouton's house at the back of the town, the captains grouped in front of him.
“Is that strong enough, gentlemen?” he asked.
“To raise his hair,” said Captain Charleville.
Captain Bowman laughed loudly.
“I reckon the boys will see to that,” said he.
Colonel Clark folded the letter, addressed it, and turned gravely to Monsieur Bouton.
“You will oblige me, sir,” said he, “by taking this to Governor Hamilton. You will be provided with a flag of truce.”
Monsieur Bouton was a round little man, as his name suggested, and the men cheered him as he strode soberly up the street, a piece of sheeting tied to a sapling and flung over his shoulder. Through such humble agencies are the ends of Providence accomplished. Monsieur Bouton walked up to the gate, disappeared sidewise through the postern, and we sat down to breakfast. In a very short time Monsieur Bouton was seen coming back, and his face was not so impassive that the governor's message could not be read thereon.
“'Tis not a love-letter he has, I'll warrant,” said Terence, as the little man disappeared into the house. So accurately had Monsieur Bouton's face betrayed the news that the men went back to their posts without orders, some with half a breakfast in hand. And soon the rank and file had the message.