The conversation was not to his liking.
Hamilton sent for Father Beret and had a long talk with him, but the old man looked so childishly inoffensive in spirit and so collapsed physically that it seemed worse than foolishness to accuse him of the exploit over which the entire garrison was wondering.

Farnsworth sat by during the interview.

He looked the good priest curiously and critically over from head to foot, remembering, but not mentioning, the most unclerical punch in the side received from that energetic right arm now lying so flabbily across the old man's lap.
When the talk ended and Father Beret humbly took his leave, Hamilton turned to Farnsworth and said: "What do you think of this affair?
I have cross-questioned all the men who took part in it, and every one of them says simply priest or devil.
I think old Beret is both; but plainly he couldn't hurt a chicken, you can see that at a glance." Farnsworth smiled, rubbing his side reminiscently; but he shook his head.
"I'm sure it's puzzling, indeed." Hamilton sat in thoughtful silence for a while, then abruptly changed the subject.
"I think, Captain, that you had better send out Lieutenant Barlow and some of the best woodsmen to kill some game.

We need fresh venison, and, by George! I'm not going to depend upon these French traitors any longer.

I have set my foot down; they've got to do better or take the consequences." He paused for a breath, then added: "That girl has done too much to escape severest punishment.