“I ain’t brought no ammunition. Those durned Injun agents are always fussing about honest traders, and I got by Colonel Johnson’s deputy at Piqua by saying that I had ammunition. But I ain’t got a bit. I ain’t got nothing but whiskey and trade goods. This young know-it-all, he hears what I says to the agent, and he takes it on himself to escort the ammunition and I lets him do it.” A roar of laughter went up from the crowd. Aristocrats were not popular on the frontier and Jack was plainly an aristocrat. Besides, Williams was a friend and the crowd was very willing to follow his lead. Jack flushed hotly as he realized how completely he had been humbugged. He tried to speak, but his voice was drowned by jeers. Mr. Hibbs, however, neither laughed nor jeered. The failure to get ammunition seemed to strike him hard. Furiously he swung round on Jack. But before he could speak Williams thrust in. “I got those things you wanted, lieutenant,” he said. “But he’s taken charge of ’em.” He jerked his thumb toward Jack. “Maybe he’ll give ’em to you if you go down on your knees and ask for ’em pretty.” Mr. Hibbs found his voice. “What the devil does this mean?” he demanded. “You, sir, I mean.” He glared at Jack. “I’m talking to you. What have you got to do with this thing, anyway?” Jack refused to be stampeded. He was horribly abashed by the fiasco of the ammunition, and he saw that no explanation that he could make was likely to be well received. “I’d rather wait and go into things privately, lieutenant,” he demurred. “Privately! H--l! You go ahead and be d-- quick about it!” Before Jack could speak a tall, thin man, who had been watching the scene with growing disgust, stepped forward hurriedly. “I think the young man is right, Mr. Hibbs,” he said. “It seems to me that it would be much better to talk in private.” He turned to Jack. “I am Major Stickney, the Indian agent here, Mr. Telfair,” he said. Mr. Hibbs gave him no time to say more. Furiously he turned upon him. “It seems best to you, does it,” he yelled. “Yes, I reckon it is just the sort of thing that would seem best to a greenhorn like you. But you might as well understand here and now, that I’m in command here and that you nor anybody else can tell me what to do.” He turned to Jack. “Go on,” he roared. Further objection was evidently useless. Jack spoke out. “I charge this man,” he said, pointing to Williams, “with the deliberate and uncalled-for murder of a friendly Shawnee chief, at the moment that he was making the peace sign. This man shot him down without any provocation and without any warning. After he had shot him the Indian sprang at him and at his companion, a man named Wolf, tore Wolf’s gun from him, and brained him with it. Then he sprang at Williams, who struck him down with his hatchet and then scalped him.” “Good! Good! Bully for you, Williams.” A roar of applause rose from the soldiers. Mr. Hibbs did not check it.