“Hold on, Brown,” interrupted Kinnison. “Wasn’t it a dark night?”
“Yes,” replied Brown; “but we saw where the fife lay, by the quick flashes of the guns. Didn’t we, Hanson?”
“Yes; it’s a fact,” replied the drummer; “and when we returned, I found a couple of balls had passed through the heads of my drum.”
“I told you I thought you wouldn’t swallow it,” observed Brown; “but here’s the fife, and here’s the mark where the ball passed through my hand.” Brown exhibited the scar, and doubt seemed to be set at rest. Kinnison, however, shook his head, as if unsatisfied.
“There wasn’t a great deal in the mere going after the fife at such a time,” continued the fifer, “but I thought I’d mention it, to give you an idea of Hanson’s spirit.”
“Very well,” remarked Hand, “we are satisfied now that both Mr. Brown and Mr. Hanson are really men of spirit.”
“Mr. Davenport,” said one of the young men, “won’t you entertain us with an account of something you saw or joined in, or did yourself, during the war?”
“Were any of you at Quebec, with Arnold and Montgomery?” inquired one of the veterans who had been an attentive and silent listener to the preceding narratives.
“I accompanied Colonel Arnold on the expedition up the Kennebec,” replied Davenport.
“Then tell us about it, won’t you?” eagerly exclaimed one of the young men.
“Ay, Davenport, tell us about it,” added Kinnison. “I’ve never heard anything I could depend on about that march through the wilderness. Old Joe Weston tried to give me an account of it; but his memory was very weak, and he hadn’t the knack of talking so that a person could understand him.”