"I have no plea to make for myself, Captain. I have come to ask at your hands the lives of the women and children who are under our protection--to ask you not to betray the most sacred trust that can be given to man. You speak of orders. As I understand it, no time was set for the evacuation of the Fort?" "We have delayed too long already." "Suppose the British army was at our gates--would those orders hold good?" "Sir, you are impertinent!" "Captain, that medal which Black Partridge returned to you to-night was equivalent to a declaration of war. If you are not willing to act upon your own responsibility, send Captain Wells and his Indians to General Hull to ask for reinforcements. If Captain Wells is not willing to go, I am. I know the provisions have been given to the Indians, but we have the cattle and perhaps enough else to last the garrison two weeks or more. With reinforcements we can hold the Fort against any force that may be brought against it. Captain--let me go!" "Sir, I have my orders." "Orders be damned!" "At West Point," asked the Captain, hoarsely, "were you taught to speak to your superior officer in that way?" "Captain, I speak to you not as my superior officer, but as man to man. Our force is small, some of our boys are too old to fight, and we have women and children to protect. I ask nothing for myself, nor for men like me--we are soldiers. I plead for the helpless ones under our care. I ask you only to wait, not to disobey. I beg you to save the women and children from torture--from cutting their flesh to ribbons while they still live--from things that one man cannot look another in the face and name." Franklin turned away, his muscles rigid as steel. "You have a wife, Captain--a tender, loving, helpless woman. Are you willing to give her to the Indians and let them do as they please with her? Suppose you had a child, just old enough to walk--a little daughter, whose flesh was so soft that you almost feared to touch her--a child who loved you, trusted you, and leaned upon you, knowing that you would risk your life to save her from the slightest hurt. Suppose two thousand Indians in their war-paint were pounding at the gates of the Fort, and the knife and the stake were waiting for their victims--would you stand upon the stockade and throw that child to those beasts? "That is what you are going to do to-morrow. You will sacrifice your own wife, the wife of every man at the post, and every little child, but it touches you only at one point. In the name of the woman who loves you--in the name of the children who might have called you father--Captain--in God's name--stay!" The Captain's face was ashen, but his voice was clear. "Sir, I am a soldier--I have my orders!" With a muttered curse, Ronald flung himself out of the room. He staggered to the parade-ground blindly, gasping with every breath. Then the door opened softly and a white figure, barefooted, came quietly into the room.