"Nothing an Indian does is right or
generous; these forest-runners hate them, distrust them, fear
them--though they may deny it--and kill all they can. And you may argue
all day with an Indian-hater and have your trouble to pay you. Yet I
have heard that this man Mount is brave and generous to enemies of his
own color."
We had now come to the road in front of the house, and Mount set his cap
rakishly on his head, straightened cape and baldrick, and ran his
fingers through the gorgeous thrums rippling from sleeve and thigh.
"I'd barter a month's pay for a pot o' beer," he said to me. "I learned
to drink serving with Cresap's riflemen at the siege of Boston; a
godless company, sir, for an innocent man to fall among. But Morgan's
rifles are worse, Mr. Ormond; they drink no water save when it rains in
their gin toddy."
"Sir Lupus says you tried to join them," said Dorothy, to plague him.
"So I did, Mistress Varick, so I did," he stammered; "to break 'em o'
their habits, ma'am. Trust me, if I had that corps I'd teach 'em to let
spirits alone if I had to drink every drop in camp to keep 'em sober!"
"There's beer in the buttery," she said, laughing; "and if you smile at
Tulip she'll see you starve not."
"Nobody," said I, "goes thirsty or hungry at Varick Manor."
"Indeed, no," said Dorothy, much amused, as old Cato came down the path,
hat in hand.
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