Hazel liked him better then than she had done since his first arrival. 'He really is a plucky boy after all,' she thought. 'I wonder if it will last?' ACT THE SECOND WHERE IS THE ARMY? The General's self-possession and resource were indeed remarkable. 'We ought to have a cannon,' he said; 'there's a big roll of matting somewhere in the house. If we got that, and widened a loophole, and shoved it through, it would look just like the muzzle of a cannon in the dark.' 'Would that frighten a Red Indian much?' asked Hazel. 'Not if he knew what it was, perhaps; but who's going to tell him? Jack, just run up to the house, like a good fellow, and see if you can find it, will you? You can go with him, Guy.' 'You seem rather to like the idea of being attacked,' said Hazel, when she and Clarence were alone together. He was gratified to notice the new friendliness in her voice. 'Well, you see,' he explained loftily, 'I don't suppose I'm pluckier than most people, but it just happens that I'm not afraid of Red Indians, that's all; when I saw all those at Buffalo Bill's I wasn't even excited: it's constitutional, I fancy.' He always modelled his talk a good deal upon books, and a crisis like this naturally brought out his largest language. 'I'd better see you safe back to the house, I think,' he added; 'I don't expect them for an hour yet, but you can never depend on savages--they might be lurking about the grounds already, for what we know.' And, although Hazel had her own private ideas about the reality of the danger, she was struck by his coolness and courage, for which, whether justified or not by the occasion, she was quite fair-minded enough to give him due credit. Meanwhile, the other two boys, bursting with excitement, had rushed up to the verandah, under which their mother and uncle were sitting. 'Mother! Uncle Lambert! What do you think? Our camp is going to be attacked this very night by Indians!' 'Yes, dears,' said Mrs. Jolliffe, serenely; 'but have you had your teas yet?' Trifles such as these harrow the martial soul more than conflicts. 'But, mother, did you hear what we said? The fort is to be stormed by Red Indians!' 'Very well, dears, so long as you don't make too much noise,' was the sole comment of this most provokingly placid lady. What she ought to have done was, of course, to throw down her work, raise her eyes to the clouds, clasp her hands, and observe, in an agitated tone, 'Heaven protect us! We are lost!' But few mothers are capable of really rising to emergencies of this kind. Hilary and Cecily had been playing tennis, and, overhearing the alarming news, came up to the steps of the verandah. 'Did you say Red Indians were coming here?' Uncle Lambert shook his head lugubriously. 'I always warned your father,' he remarked; 'but he _would_ come to live in Berkshire.' 'Why?' inquired Cecily. 'Is Berkshire a bad place for Red Indians, uncle?'