"Oh, do drop that! I tell you _I_ ain't a private family; I'm a tavern. Oh! I don't know what I am nor what I'm sayin'. I--I reckon I'm clean beat and tuckered out." "So you are, dear. But rest and I'll make you a cup of tea. If you leave those people to themselves and they get hungry again they'll cook _for_ themselves. They'll have to. But to a good many of these refugees this is a sort of picnic business. They have left their homes, it's true; but they haven't seen so many human faces in years and----" "They haven't had such a good time! I noticed that. They seemed as bright as children at a frolic. Well, we ought to help them get what fun they can out of so serious a matter," commented Gaspar. "Serious! I should say so. That's what sent me here. Abel, he was on the wharf, and he says the ships are coming down the lake full of soldiers; and what with them and the folks already here and only a hundred and fifty head to feed 'em with, and some of these refugees eat as much as ary parson I ever saw, and the old Doctor trying to preach to 'em, sayin' it's the best opportunity--my land! The way some folks can get sweet out of bitter is a disgrace, I declare. And as for that Ossy, the dirty scamp, he's broke more dishes, washing them, than I've got left. And I run over to see if you'd let me have ary dish you've got, or shall I give 'em their stuff right in their hands? And how long have I got to go on watchin' that wild Osceolo? I wish you'd take him back and shut him up in your wood-shed again." "But, Mother Mercy, it was you who begged his release. And I'm sure it's better for him in your kitchen, working, than lying idle in an empty building, plotting mischief. Hello, here's Abel. And he seems as excited as--as you were," said Gaspar. "Glory to government, youngsters! The military is coming! The General's in sight! Now hooray! We'll show them pesky red-skins a thing or two. If they ain't wiped clean out of existence this time my name's Jack Robinson. Say, Kit, don't look so solemn. Likely they'll know enough to give up licked without getting shot; and they're nothin' but Indians, any how." The Sun Maid came softly across and held up her little son to be admired. Her face was grave and her lips silent. All this talk of war and bloodshed was awful to her gentle heart, that was torn and distracted with grief for both her white and her red-faced friends. But there was only grim satisfaction on the countenance of her young husband; and he turned to Abel, demanding: "Are you sure that this good news is true? Are the soldiers coming? Who saw them?" "I myself, through the commandant's spy-glass. They're aboard the ships, and I could almost hear the tune of _Yankee Doodle_. They're bound to rout the enemy like chain lightning. Hooray!" The soldiers were coming indeed; but alas! an enemy was coming with them far more deadly than the Indians they meant to conquer. CHAPTER XXI. FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.