Radisson motioned the soldiers
to encircle him. Then all Ben's pot-valiant bravery ebbed.
"Am I a prisoner?" he demanded savagely.
"Prisoner or guest, according to your conduct," answered Radisson
lightly. Then to the men--"Form line-march!"
At the word we filed into the guard-room, where the soldiers relieved
Gillam of pistol and sword.
"Am I to be shot? Am I to be shot?" cried Gillam, white with terror at
M. Radisson's order to load muskets. "Am I to be shot?" he whimpered.
"Not unless you do it yourself, and 'twould be the most graceful act of
your life, Ben! And now," said M. Radisson, dismissing all the men but
one sentinel for the door, "and now, Ben, a Merry Christmas to you, and
may it be your last in Hudson Bay!"
With that he left Ben Gillam prisoner; but he ordered special watch to be
kept on the fort bastions lest Ben's bravado portended attack. The next
morning he asked Ben to breakfast with our staff.
"The compliments of the morning to you. And I trust you rested well!" M.
Radisson called out.
Ben wished that he might be cursed if any man could rest well on bare
boards rimed with frost like curdled milk.
"Cheer up, man! Cheer up!" encourages Radisson. "There's to be a
capture to-day!"
"A capture!" reiterates Ben, glowering black across the table and doffing
his cap with bad grace.
Pages:
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169