great youth was not boasting, merely stating a
fact.

"Confidence is ze gran' thing," he said, "but these walls are high an'
the ears are many."

While Henry sat there with the men, Colonel de Peyster passed. The
commander was in an especially good humor that morning. He was convinced
that his negotiations with the Indian were going well. He had sworn to
Timmendiquas again that if the Western tribes would fight for the King,
the King would help them in return should their villages be attacked.
More presents had been distributed judiciously among the chiefs. The
renegades also were at work. All of Girty's influence, and it was large,
had been brought to bear in favor of the invasion, and it seemed to de
Peyster that everything was now settled. He saw Henry sitting by the
fire, gave him an ironical look, and, as he passed, sang clearly enough
for the captive to hear a song of his own composition. He called it "The
Drill Sergeant," written to the tune of "The Happy Beggars," and the
first verse ran:

Come, stand well to your order,
Make not the least false motion;
Eyes to the right,
Thumb, muzzle height;
Lads, you have the true notion.
Here and there,
Everywhere
That the King's boys may be found,
Fight and die,
Be the cry,
'Ere in battle to give ground.

De Peyster was not only a soldier, but being born in New York and having
grown up there he prided himself upon being a man of the world with
accomplishments literary and otherwise. The privilege of humming one's
own poetry is great and exalting, and the commander's spirits, already
high, rose yet higher. The destruction of Kentucky was not only going to
be accomplished, it was in fact accomplished already. He would extirpate
the impudent settlers west of the mountains, and, when the King's
authority was reestablished everywhere and the time came for rewards, he
would ask and receive a great one.

As Colonel de Peyster walked toward the western gate a Tory soldier,
with bruises and excitement upon his face, and a torn uniform upon his
body, hurried toward him, accompanied by Lieutenant Holderness.

"This is Private Doran, sir," said Holderness, "and he has an important
letter for you."

Colonel de Peyster looked critically at Private Doran.

"You seem to have been manhandled," he said.

"I was set upon by a band of cutthroats," said Private Doran, the memory
of his wrongs becomi