cannot by the same process be annulled. He sees the
convergence of the circumstances drawing to the event; whether
consciously or not he deliberates upon the validity of the policy
unfolded; he often goes to meet disaster, perceiving its undisguised
approach from afar off. And yet he goes unfalteringly.

"When our government armed these savage fiends against the
French,--civilized men and 'palefaces' like ourselves," said Captain
Demere, "and the American colonists fought with them as allies, side by
side, despite their hideous barbarities, we fell upon our own sword."

"Honors are easy," returned Captain Stuart, lightly. "Have the French
armed no Indian allies? Did they not do it first?"

"We are not wont to look so far afield for our warrant," Demere retorted
testily. Then resuming: "These barbarous beasts are no fit allies for
English arms. They degrade our spirit, and destroy our discipline, and
disgrace our victories. I would rather suffer any honorable defeat than
win through their savageries."

He was unconsciously the advance guard of that sentiment which caused
the Earl of Chatham, nearly twenty years afterward, to declare in the
House of Lords that it was a reflection on the honor of the nation that
the scalping-knife and the tomahawk should be the aids of the British
firelock and sword, and wreak their savage deeds under the sanction of
the same brave banner; but even then Lord Gower was able to retort that,
when still Mr. Pitt the "great Commoner," and the ruling spirit of the
ministry, he, himself, had without scruple employed American savages in
warfare. As yet, however, this objection was but a sensitive protest in
the heart and mind of an obscure officer, the commandant of a merely
temporary post on the furthest western frontier.[9]

The papers had been pushed near Demere's elbow, and he began to look
over them disaffectedly.

"Hear Governor Lyttleton," he said, and read in a tone that was itself a
commentary: "'Use all means you think proper to induce our Indians to
take up the hatchet. Promise a reward to every man who shall bring in
the scalp of a Frenchman or a French Indian.'"

"As if one could be sure of a dead man's nationality or allegiance by
seeing the hair on his scalp," said Whitson, as ever readily disgusted.

Stuart sought to take an unprejudiced view. "I never looked upon war as
a pastime or an elegant accomplishment," he declared, watching the
wreaths rise from the deep bowl of hi