He gave them full
liberty, on parole of honor not to attempt escape or to aid in any
way an enemy against him while they were prisoners.
Nor was it long before Helm's genial and sociable disposition won
the Englishman's respect and confidence to such an extent that the
two became almost inseparable companions, playing cards, brewing
toddies, telling stories, and even shooting deer in the woods
together, as if they had always been the best of friends.
Hamilton did not permit his savage allies to enter the town, and
he immediately required the French inhabitants to swear allegiance
to Great Britain, which they did with apparent heartiness, all
save M. Roussillon, who was kept in close confinement and bound
like a felon, chafing lugubriously and wearing the air of a
martyr. His prison was a little log pen in one corner of the
stockade, much open to the weather, its gaping cracks giving him a
dreary view of the frozen landscape through which the Wabash
flowed in a broad steel-gray current. Helm, who really liked him,
tried in vain to procure his release; but Hamilton was inexorable
on account of what he regarded as duplicity in M. Roussillon's
conduct.
"No, I'll let him reflect," he said; "there's nothing like a
little tyranny to break up a bad case of self-importance. He'll
soon find out that he has over-rated himself!"
CHAPTER X
M.
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