I committed the paper to the flames.

So far, no thanks to myself, I had carried out my orders in all save the
apprehension of Walter Butler. And now I was uncertain whether to remain
and hang around the council-fire waiting for an opportunity to seize
Butler, or whether to push on at once, warn Gansevoort at Stanwix that
St. Leger's motley army had set out from Oswego, and then return to
trap Butler at my leisure.

I crumpled the despatch into a ball and tossed it onto the live coals in
the fireplace; the paper smoked, caught fire, and in a moment more the
black flakes sank into the ashes.

"Shall we burn the house, sir?" asked Mount, as I came to the doorway
and looked out.

I shook my head, picked up rifle, pouch, and sack, and descended the
steps. At the same instant a man appeared at the foot of the hill, and
Elerson waved his hand, saying: "Here's that mad Irishman, Tim Murphy,
back already."

Murphy came jauntily up the hill, saluted me with easy respect, and drew
from his pouch a small packet of papers which he handed me, nodding
carelessly at Elerson and staring hard at Mount as though he did not
recognize him.

"Phwat's this?" he inquired of Elerson--"a Frinch cooroor, or maybe a
Sac shquaw in a buck's shirrt?"

"Don't introduce him to me," said Mount to Elerson; "he'll try to kiss
my hand, and I hate ceremony."

"Quit foolin'," said Elerson, as the two big, over-grown boys seized
each other and began a rough-and-tumble frolic. "You're just cuttin'
capers, Tim, becuz you've heard that we're takin' the war-path--quit
pullin' me, you big Irish elephant! Is it true we're takin' the
war-path?"

"How do I know?" cried Murphy; but the twinkle in his blue eyes betrayed
him; "bedad, 'tis home to the purty lasses we go this blessed day, f'r
the crool war is over, an' the King's got the pip, an--"

"Murphy!" I said.

"Sorr," he replied, letting go of Mount and standing at a respectful
slouch.

"Did you get Beacraft there in safety?"

"I did, sorr."

"Any trouble?"

"None, sorr--f'r me."

I opened the first despatch, looking at him keenly.

"Do we take the war-path?" I asked.

"We do, sorr," he said, blandly. "McDonald's in the hills wid the McCraw
an'ten score renegades. Wan o' their scouts struck old man Schell's farm
an' he put buckshot into sivinteen o' them, or I'm a liar where
I shtand!"

"I knew it," muttered Elerson to Mount. "Where you see smoke, there's
fire; where you see Murphy, t