earborn in 1812. I
thought that young fellow came here for military service," the colonel
commented, testily.

"Rather say he came for adventure," Esmond Clarenden suggested.

"He'll get a deuced lot of it in a hurry, if you persuade him off with
you."

A flush swept over Esmond Clarenden's face, but his good-natured smile
did not fail as he replied:

"I don't persuade anybody. The rest of the company are my two nephews
and the little girl, my ward, with our cook, Daniel Boone, as
commander-in-chief of the pots and pans and any Indian meat foolish
enough to fall in her way."

Then came the explosion. Powder would have cost less than the energy
blown off there. The colonel stamped and swore, and sprang to his feet
in opposition, and flung himself down in disgust.

"Women and children!" he gasped. "Why do you sacrifice helpless innocent
ones?"

Just then Aunty Boone strode in carrying a log of wood as big as a man's
body, which she deftly threw on the fire. As the flame blazed high she
gave one look at the young officer sitting before it, and then walked
out as silently and sturdily as she had entered. It was such a look as a
Great Dane dog full of superiority and indifference might have given to
a terrier puppy, and from where I lay I thought the military man's face
took on a very strange expression.

"I 'sacrifice my innocent ones,'" my uncle answered the query, "because
they will be safer with me than anywhere else. Young as they are, there
are some forces against them already."

"Well, you are going to a perilous place, over a most perilous trail, in
a most perilous time of national affairs, to meet such treacherously
villainous men as New Mexico offers in her market-places right now? And
all for the sake of the commerce of the plains? Why do you take such
chances to do business with such people, Clarenden?"

Esmond Clarenden had been staring at the burning logs in the big
fireplace during this conversation. He turned now and faced the young
army officer squarely as he said in that level tone that we children had
learned long ago was final:

"Colonel, I'd go straight to hell and do business with the devil himself
if I had any business dealings with him."

The colonel's face fell. Slowly he relighted his cigar, and leaned back
again in his chair, and with that diplomacy that covers a skilful
retreat he said, smilingly:

"If any man west of the Missouri River ever could do that it would be
you, Clarend