He had always had a contempt for men who “put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains,” and the spectacle soon presented by the French officers made him swear inwardly that never, so long as he lived, would he put himself in the condition they were in then. These men, brave and otherwise discreet, passed the bottle so often that they soon lost all sense of prudence, and, turning from broken English to French, told things in regard to their military plans which they would have died rather than betray. Captain Joncaire, forgetting, in his maudlin state, that George had said he did not understand French well, turned to him and said, in French: “Ah, you English mean to drive us out. Well, let me tell you, we are not to be driven out. We expect to go to war with your country soon, and this is a good place to begin. We know that you can raise two men to our one, but you have a dilatory, foolish governor in Virginia, and he will let us overrun the country before he does anything to stop us.” As he kept on, giving information about his people that he should never have done, and which George partly understood, such keen contempt came into George’s eyes that a gleam of soberness returned to Captain Joncaire, and for a few minutes he said no more. But “when the wine is in the wit is out,” and the Frenchmen continued to talk in the foolish manner which awaits the wisest man when he makes a beast of himself with liquor. At ten o’clock George and Captain Vanbraam had to tear themselves away from the Frenchmen, who, drunker than ever, tried to hold them back by embracing them. As they made their way back to their camp Captain Vanbraam repeated every word the drunken officers had said. George spoke little. The spectacle was not only disgusting but painful to him. Next morning, early, Captain Joncaire sought out their camp, and professed great surprise at seeing the Indians, whom he declared to be his friends. He invited them to the house, where George well knew there would be liquor and cajolery in plenty for them. “My dear Major Washington,” cried Joncaire, after a while, and coloring slightly as he spoke, “I am afraid you had us at a disadvantage last night. We talked rather wildly, I fancy, but don’t put too much confidence in what we said when the wine was flowing.” “I am compelled to put confidence in what Captain Joncaire and his officers say, drunk or sober,” was George’s reply, delivered not without sarcasm, at which Captain Joncaire winced. The Frenchmen invited the Indians to their post, and George had the mortification of seeing them all carried off, except Tanacharison and his son Black Bear; and when, in the evening, he sent for the chiefs, they returned to him stupidly drunk and loaded with presents from the French.