"Very well," said I, "your war name shall be Sak-yen-haton!"[27]--which was as good Iroquois as I could pronounce, and good enough for the Montagnais to comprehend, it seemed, for a gleam shot from his eyes, and I heard him say to himself in a low voice: "Haiah-ya! I am a real warrior now!... Onenh! at last!" [Footnote 27: "Disappearing Mist"--Sakayen-gwaration.] A shot came from the water; he looked around contemptuously and smiled. "My elder brother," said he, "shall we two strip and set our knives between our teeth, and swim out to scalp those muskrats yonder?" "And if they fire at us in the water?" said I, amused at his mad courage, who had once been "hardly a man." "Then we dive like Tchurako, the mink, and swim beneath the water, as swims old 'long face' the great wolf-pike![28] Shall we rush upon them thus, O my elder brother?" [Footnote 28: Che-go-sis--pickerel. In the Oneida dialect, Ska-ka-lux or _Bad-eye_.] Absurd as it was, the wild idea began to inflame me, and I was seriously considering our chances at twilight to accomplish such a business, when, of a sudden, I saw on the mainland an officer of the Indian Department, who bore a white rag on the point of his hanger and waved it toward the house. He came across the Johnstown Road to our gate, but made no motion to open it, and stood there slowly waving his white flag and waiting to be noticed and hailed. "Keep your rifle on that man," I whispered to my Indian, "for I shall go down to the orchard and learn what are the true intentions of these green-coats and blue-eyed Indians. Find a rest for your piece, hold steadily, and kill that flag if I am fired on." I saw him stretch out flat on his belly and rest his rifle on the veranda rail. Then I crawled into the garret, descended through the darkened house, and, unbolting the door, went out and down across the grass to the orchard. "What is your errand?" I called out, "you flag there outside our gate?" "Is that you, John Drogue?" came a familiar voice. I took a long look at him from behind my apple tree, and saw it was Jock Campbell, one of Sir John's Highland brood and late a subaltern in the Royal Provincials. And that he should come here in a green coat with these murderous vagabonds incensed me. "What do you want, Jock Campbell!" I demanded, controlling my temper. "I want a word with you under a flag!" "Say what you have to say, but keep outside that gate!" I retorted. "John Drogue," says he, "we came here to burn Summer House, and mean to do it. We know how many you have to defend the place----" "Oh, do you know that? Then tell me, Jock, if you truly possess the information." "Very well," said he calmly. "You are two white men, a Montagnais dog, and a girl. And pray tell me, sir, how long do you think you can hold us off?" "Well," said I, "if you are as thrifty with your skins as you have been all day, then we should keep this place a week or two against you."