If I might make so bold, sir, I
think the major ought to keep an eye on them blasted halfbreeds at
Hay's."
It set Flint to serious thinking. Pete and Crapaud, paid henchmen of the
trader, had been taking advantage of their employer's absence and
celebrating after the manner of their kind. One of his officers, new
like himself to the neighborhood and to the Indians, had had encounter
with the two that rubbed his commissioned fur the wrong way. A sentry,
in discharge of his duty, had warned them one evening away from the rear
gate of a bachelor den, along officers' row, and had been told to go to
sheol, or words to that effect. They had more business there than he
had, said they, and, under the potent sway of "inspiring bold John
Barleycorn" had not even abated their position when the
officer-of-the-day happened along. They virtually damned and defied him,
too.
The officer-of-the-day reported to the commanding officer, and that
officer called on Mrs. Hay to tell her he should order the culprits off
the reservation if they were not better behaved. Mrs. Hay, so said the
servant, was feeling far from well and had to ask to be excused, when
who should appear but that ministering angel Mrs.
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