a man of my weight and years, Mister Gascoyne. But
if there's no easier style of work to be done, I fancy I must be content
with what falls to my lot."

"And truly," added Montague, "methinks you might have assigned me a more
useful, as well as more congenial occupation, than the bombardment of a
mud village full of women and children; for I doubt not that every
able-bodied man has left it, to go on this expedition."

"You'll not find the Goat's Pass so bad as you think, good Thorwald,"
returned Gascoyne; "for I propose that the Talisman or her boats should
convey you and your men to the foot of it, after which your course will
be indeed rugged, but it will be short;--merely to scale the face of a
precipice that would frighten a goat to think of, and then a plain
descent into the valley, where, I doubt not, these villains will be
found in force; and where, certainly, they will not look for the
appearance of a stout generalissimo of half-savage troops. As for the
bombarding of a mud village, Mr. Montague, I should have expected a
well-trained British officer ready to do his duty, whether that duty
were agreeable or otherwise."

"My _duty_ certainly," interrupted the young captain, hotly; "but I have
yet to learn that _your_ orders constitute _my_ duty."

The bland smile with which Gascoyne listened to this tended rather to
irritate than to soothe Montague's feelings; but he curbed the passion
which stirred his breast, while the other went on:

"No doubt the bombarding of a defenseless village is not pleasant work;
but the result will be important, for it will cause the whole army of
savages to rush to the protection of their women and children, thereby
disconcerting their plans--supposing them to have any--and enabling us
to attack them while assembled in force. It is the nature of savages to
scatter, and so to puzzle trained forces; and no doubt those of His
Majesty are well trained. But 'one touch of nature makes the whole world
kin,' says a great authority; it is wonderful how useful a knowledge of
various touches of nature is in the art of war.

"It may not have occurred to Mr. Montague that savages have a tendency
to love and protect their wives and children, as well as civilized men,
and that--"

"Pray, cease your irrelevant remarks; they are ill-timed," said
Montague, impatiently. "Let us hear the remainder of your suggestions. I
shall judge of their value, and act accordingly. You have not yet told
us wha