He had met Hamilton's glowering look with a
peculiarly innocent smile, as if to say: "What in the world is the
matter now? I never felt in a better humor in all my life. Can't
you take a joke, I wonder?" He did not speak, however, for a
rattling volley of musket and rifle shots hit the top of the clay-
daubed chimney, sending down into the toddy a shower of soot and
dirt.
In a wink every man was on his feet and staring.
"Gentlemen," said Helm, with an impressive oath, "that is Clark's
soldiers, and they will take your fort; but they ought not to have
spoiled this apple toddy!" "Oh, the devil!" said Hamilton,
forcibly resuming a calm countenance, "it is only a squad of
drunken Indians coming in. We'll forego excitement; there's no
battle on hand, gentlemen."
"I'm glad you think so, Governor Hamilton," Helm responded, "but I
should imagine that I ought to know the crack of a Kentucky rifle.
I've heard one occasionally in my life. Besides, I got a whiff of
freedom just now."
"Captain Helm is right," observed Farnsworth. "That is an attack."
Another volley, this time nearer and more concentrated, convinced
Hamilton that he was, indeed, at the opening of a fight. Even
while he was giving some hurried orders to his officers, a man was
wounded at one of the port-holes. Then came a series of yells,
answered by a ripple of sympathetic French shouting that ran
throughout the town.
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