“I trust, sir,” spoke he in a measured voice, “that I do not convey that impression. I am Gilbert Scarlett, late of the Spanish service and once of those of Hanover, Wurtemberg, Portugal and the Swiss. Also two campaigns have I served with the Turks in Egypt, and once I bore a commission from the Czar of Muscovy.”
Ezra regarded the other with wonderment. That so young a man could have had so wide a military experience seemed extraordinary indeed. But, in spite of the boastful tone and exaggerated manner, there was that about the stranger that might make a doubter pause.
“I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Scarlett,” said Ezra Prentiss, politely. “And I must say that I am rather astonished to see a man of your parts in so unusual a place.”
“You might well be,” returned the other, slapping his boot-leg with his riding-whip. “And truth to tell, I am a trifle astonished myself. But matters between the Spanish and the French grew very monotonous toward the last, below there in the Floridas and on the Gulf. They made war very politely and saw to it that there was plenty of breathing time between cannon-shots. So I took ship and came north. They told me that the clouds were gathering here and that there would be much credit for a man of my inches to gain, in one way and another.”
“If you look for fighting,” said Ezra, soberly, “I fancy you’ll get your fill of it before many days.”
The other laughed and leaned gracefully against a tree. He had thick black brows, and he bent them at the young New Englander jeeringly.
“Fighting!” mocked he. “Where is it to come from? Gage has an army of veterans and dare not come out. This other man——”
“General Ward?” suggested Ezra, as the other hesitated.
“Yes—thanks. General Ward has gathered a rabble of peasants which would tear off like sheep at the first sound of a heavy gun.”
“You are wrong,” cried Ezra warmly. “I saw them under fire. They acted the part of men.”
“I’ve heard of that fight,” said the young man. “Pshaw! Such a thing is not a test. Wait until they are forced to sleep out under the stars, to mount guard in the wet, to obey popinjay officers, to keep hungry bellies for days on end, to be sick without physic, to be cold without clothing, to be beaten and asked to fight again. That will show the color of their courage, sir. Your General Ward may be satisfied with less; but nothing short of all I’ve mentioned would answer the needs of an old campaigner.”