All were monstrous civil; some offered snuff; some a pipe and pouch; and a friendly captain man engaged me in conversation--gossip of Johnstown and the Valley--so that, without any awkwardness, the gay and general chatter around the girl suffered but a moment's pause. The young officer who had writ verses, now read them aloud amid lively approbation and some sly jesting: IN PRAISE "Flavilla's hair, Beyond compare, Like sunshine brightens all the earth! Old Sol, beware! She cheats you, there, And robs your rays of all their worth! "Impotent blaze! I shall not praise Your brazen ways, Nor dare compare Your flaming gaze To those sweet rays Which play around Flavilla's hair. "For lo, behold! No sunshine bold Can hope to gild or make more fair The living gold, Where, fold on fold, In glory shines Flavilla's hair!" There was a merry tumult of praise for the poet, and some rallied him, but he seemed complacent enough, and Penelope looked shyly at him over lagging needles,--a smile her acknowledgment and thanks. "Sir," says a cornet of horse, in helmet and jack-boots--though I perceived none of his company about, and wondered where he came from,--"will you consent to entertain our merry Council with some account of the scout which, from your appearance, sir, I guess you have but recently accomplished." To this stilted and somewhat pompous speech I inclined my head with civility, but replied that I did not yet feel at liberty to discuss any journey I may have accomplished until my commanding officer gave me permission. Which mild rebuke turned young Jack-boots red, and raised a titter. An officer said: "The dry blood on your hunting shirt, sir, and the somewhat amazing appearance of your tame Indian, who squats yonder, devouring the back of your head with his eyes, must plead excuse for our natural curiosity. Also, we have not yet smelled powder, and it is plain that you have had your nostrils full." I laughed, feeling no mirth, however, but sensible of my dull pain and my restlessness. "Sir," said I, "if I have smelled gun-powder, I shall know that same perfume again; and if I have not yet sniffed it, nevertheless I shall know it when I come to scent it. So, gentlemen, I can not see that you are any worse off in experience than I." A subaltern, smiling, ventured to ask me what kind of Indian was that who enquired me. "Of Algonquin stock," said I, "but speaks an odd lingo, partly Huron-Iroquois, partly the Loup tongue, I think. He is a Saguenay." "One of those fierce wanderers of the mountains," nodded an older officer. "I thought they were not to be tamed." "I owned a tame tree-cat once," remarked another officer.