IN WHICH THE SANTA TERESA DROPS DOWNSTREAM

AN hour’s ride brought us to the block house standing within the forest, midway between the white plantations at Paspahegh and the village of the tribe. We found it well garrisoned, spies out, and the men inclined to make light of the black paint and the seething village.

Amongst them was Chanco the Christian. I called him to me, and we listened to his report with growing perturbation. “Thirty warriors!” I said, when he had finished. “And they are painted yellow as well as black, and have dashed their cheeks with puccoon: it’s l’outrance, then! And the war dance is toward! If we are to pacify this hornets’ nest, it’s high time we set about it. Gentlemen of the block house, we are but twelve, and