, "things worse," went like a bullet-stroke through
Beverley's heart. It flashed an awful picture upon his vision. Father
Beret saw his face whiten and his lips set themselves to resist a great
emotion.

"Do not be angry with me, my son," he said, laying a hand on the young
man's arm. "I may be wrong, but I act upon long and convincing
experience."

"Experience or no experience," Helm exclaimed with an oath, "this fort
must be manned and defended. I am commanding here!"

"Yes, I recognize your authority," responded the priest in a firm yet
deferential tone, "and I heartily wish you had a garrison; but where is
your command, Captain Helm?" Then it was that the doughty Captain let
loose the accumulated profanity with which he had been for some time
well-nigh bursting. He tiptoed in order to curse with extremest
violence. His gestures were threatening. He shook his fists at Father
Beret, without really meaning offence.

"Where is my garrison, you ask! Yes, and I can tell you. It's where you
might expect a gang of dad blasted jabbering French good-for-nothings
to be, off high-gannicking around shooting buffaloes instead of staying
here and defending their wives, children, homes and country, damn their
everlasting souls! The few I have in the fort will sneak off, I
suppose."

"The French gave you this post on easy terms, Captain," blandly
retorted Father Beret.

"Yes, and they'll hand it over to Hamilton, you think, on the same
basis," cried Helm, "but I'll show you! I'll show you, Mr. Priest!"

"Pardon me, Captain, the French are loyal to you and to the flag
yonder. They have sworn it. Time will prove it. But in the present
desperate dilemma we must choose the safer horn."

Saying this Father Beret turned about and went his way. He was
chuckling heartily as he passed out of the gate.

"He is right," said Beverley after a few moments of reflection, during
which he was wholly occupied with Alice, whose terrified face in his
anticipation appealed to him from the midst of howling savages, smoking
cabins and mangled victims of lust and massacre. His imagination
painted the scene with a merciless realism that chilled his blood. All
the sweet romance fell away from Vincennes.

"Well, sir, right or wrong, your, duty is to obey orders," said Helm
with brutal severity.

"We had better not quarrel, Captain," Beverley replied. "I have not
signified any unwillingness to obey your commands. Give them, and you
will have no