r before dawn, not a man limping, nor a
horse either, for that matter. An officer from Colonel Willett met us,
directing the men and the baggage to the fort which was formerly the
stone jail, the Oneidas to huts erected on the old camping-ground west
of Johnson Hall, and Elsin and me to quarters at Jimmy Burke's Tavern.
She was already half-asleep in her saddle, yet ever ready to rouse
herself for a new effort; and now she raised her drowsy head with a
confused smile as I lifted her from the horse to the porch of Burke's
celebrated frontier inn.

"Colonel Willett's compliments, and he will breakfast with you at ten,"
whispered the young officer. "Good night, sir."

"Good night," I nodded, and entered the tavern, bearing Elsin in my
arms, now fast asleep as a worn-out child.

CHAPTER XI

THE TEST

I was awakened by somebody shaking me. Bewildered, not recognizing my
landlord, but confusing him with the sinister visions that had haunted
my sleep, I grappled with him until, senses returning, I found myself
sitting bolt upright in a shaky trundle-bed, clutching Jimmy Burke by
the collar.

"Lave go me shirrt, sorr," he pleaded--"f'r the saints' sake, Misther
Renault! I've the wan shirrt to me back----"

"Confound you, Jimmy!" I yawned, dropping back on my pillow; "what do
you mean by choking me?"

"Chocken', is it, sorr!" exclaimed the indignant Irishman; "'tis me
shcalp ye're afther liftin' wid a whoop an' a yell, glory be! I'll
throuble ye, Captain Renault, f'r to projooce me wig, sorr!"

Clutched in my left hand I discovered the unfortunate landlord's wig,
and I lay there amused and astonished while he haughtily adjusted it
before the tiny triangle of glass nailed on the wall.

"Shame on you, Jimmy Burke, to wear a wig to cheat some honest Mohawk
out of his eight dollars!" I yawned, rubbing my eyes.

"Mohawks, is it? Now, God be good to the haythen whin James Burrke
takes the Currietown thrail----"

"You're exempt, you fat rascal!" I said, laughing; and the dumpy little
Irishman gave me a sly grin as he retied his stock and stood smoothing
down his rumpled wig before the glass.

"Och! divil a hair has he left on the wig o' me!" he grumbled. "Will ye
get up, sorr? 'Tis ten o'clock, lackin' some contrairy minutes, an' the
officers from the foort do be ragin' f'r lack o' soupaan----"

"Are they here?" I cried, leaping out of bed. "Why didn't you say so?
Where's my tub of water? Don't stand there gri