A soft voice from Richard Ingle's right answered, "Think you not 'twere as well to leave the name of God out of the business? Considering the nature of the matter in hand, is it not just possible that He might take offence?" "Faith, I believe you're right for once, Ralph!" cried Richard Ingle, with a certain generosity, not detecting the sarcasm underlying his brother's words. "For my part, I think that cry too tame. I would like better 'The devil take the Brents!' or 'To Hell with the Calverts!'" "All save one!" murmured Ralph under his breath. Aloud he said, "Let 'Ingle!' be our cry. 'Tis short and sharp and sufficient." "So let it be!" assented Richard; "but were it not well to have badges on the arm besides the cry, that we may know each other by them when the growing dawn gives light enough to see?" "'Tis a good thought," said Claiborne. "I have a roll of green cloth which can be swiftly torn into bands; but I know not if 'tis enough to go round among so many." "I will be answerable for mine own," said Ralph Ingle, putting his hand to the breast of his jerkin and drawing out a green ribbon of watered silk. "See what a fop this brother of mine learned to be in France. His very points must be tagged with gold, and, on my life, the tags are tipped with emerald!" "Ay," said Ralph, coolly, "I got them of a French Seigneur without his permission, and they have been cursed unlucky so far. The first tag I lost in the forest near St. Gabriel's and could never find again, and the point with the other tag joined to it was stolen by a Patuxent brave while I was on a mission,--the sacrilegious savage! Since then for safe keeping I have carried this in the inner pocket of my jerkin." "Cease talking of your jewelled points and make haste," cried Claiborne, testily. "Speed is the main thing. To be discovered is to be balked, if not defeated." "Push off there in the first boat if you are ready! Shall I go in her, Captain Ingle?" "Ay, and command her crew. Wait for us at the shore, and we'll rush the stockade together." "But how to mount the bluff?" "There is a road, and I suppose it was made to be walked on." "Ay, but it leads to the strongest fortified of the gates." "You are a monstrous clever man, Master Claiborne; but for all that, Dick Ingle knows more tricks than ever a juggler taught you." "That means I am to have no confidences." Ingle laid his red finger to the side of his redder nose. "Are you Captain or I?" "You are Captain but not Pope; I suppose you may be questioned." "All in good time, Master Claiborne; all in good time. Yonder on the strip of beach below the bluff I will give my orders and divulge my plans." "Fend off!" called Claiborne, sullenly, to the man at the prow of the small boat, and seating himself in the stern he pulled his cloak close about him, muttering to himself,-- "Damn the fellow! I begin to hate him worse than Calvert."