“They talk more among themselves, madam, and when at home,” responded Raymond, turning away from the young people at the window, and leaning against the high mantel-piece, one hand on the shelf as he stood on the opposite side of the fire from Mrs. Annandale. “They are ill at ease here at the fort,--the presence of the soldiers abashes and depresses them; they are much embittered by their late defeat.” Mrs. Annandale shuddered. She was afraid of wind and lightning; of waters and ghosts; of signs and omens; of savages and mice; of the dark and of the woods; of gun-powder and a sword-blade. “And are you not frightened of them, Mr. Raymond?” she quavered. He stared in amazement, and Captain Howard, restored to good temper, cocked up his eyes humorously at the young soldier. The vivid red and white of Raymond’s complexion, his powdered side-curls, and his bold, bright hazel eyes, were heightened by the delicacy of his lace cravat, and his red uniform was brought out in fine effect by the flaring light of the deep chimney-place, but Mrs. Annandale’s heart was obdurate to all such appeals, even vicariously. A side glance had shown her that the young people at the window had drawn closer together and a low-toned and earnest conversation was in progress there,--the captain-lieutenant was talking fast and eagerly, while the girl, holding the curtain, looked out at the dreary wintry aspect of the sheeted wilderness, the frontier fort, and the “sleeping sun” resting softly in the pale azure sky, high, high above the Great Smoky Mountains. The duenna pressed her lips together in serene satisfaction. “M--m--m. I should imagine you would be so frightened of the Indians, Mr. Raymond,” she said. “Ha--ha--ha--!” laughed Captain Howard, outright. Mrs. Annandale claimed no sense of humor, but she was a very efficient mirth-maker, nevertheless. “I am beholden to you, madam,” said the young soldier, out of countenance. He could not vaunt his courage in the presence of his commander, nor would he admit fear even in fun. He was at a loss for a moment. “It is contrary to the rules of the service to be afraid of the Indians,” he said after a pause; “Captain Howard does not permit it.” “Oh,--but how can anyone help it!--and they are so monstrous ugly!” “They are considered very fine men, physically,” said Raymond. “But they will never make soldiers,” interpolated Captain Howard. The English government had done its utmost with the American Indians, as with other subdued peoples of its dependencies, both earlier and later, to incorporate their martial strength into the British armies, but the aborigines seemed incapable of being moulded by the discipline of the drill and the regulations of the camp, and deserted as readily as they were enlisted, rewards and penalties alike of no effect. “Oh, Mr. Raymond, no one could think them handsome!--they are--greasy!”