"This raid of ours will be no very great or fearsome affair.

They'll run--your Brants and Butlers--I warrant you.

And we'll follow and burn their towns.

Then, like the French king of old, down hill we'll all go strutting, you and I and the army, Loskiel; and no great harm done to anybody or anything, save to the Senecas' squash harvest, and the sensitive feelings of Walter Butler!" While he was speaking, I kept my eye on the slow batteau which led.
Three boatmen poled it; Lois and Lana sat in the middle; behind them crouched two riflemen, long weapons ready, the ringed coon-tail floating in the breeze.
Neither of the ladies had yet recognized me; Lana leaned lightly against Lois, her cheek resting on her companion's shoulder.
A black rage against Boyd rose suddenly in my breast; and so savage and abrupt was the emotion that I could scarce stifle and subdue it.
"It is wrong for them to come," I said with an effort to speak calmly, "-- --utterly and wickedly wrong.

Our block-forts are not finished.