“Well, they must have assistance, and that as soon as it can be got to ’em,” rejoined a white-haired veteran, one of the head men of the garrison, whose countenance was remarkable for its noble, benevolent expression, and who, from love and veneration, was generally called Father Albach.  “It’s too late in the day, though, to muster and march thar to-night,” continued the old man; “but we’ll have our horses got up and put in here to night, and our guns cleaned, and every thing fixed for to start at daylight to-morrow.  Eh! my gallant lads—­what say ye?” and he glanced playfully around upon the bystanders.

“Yes—­yes—­yes—­father!” cried a score of voices, in a breath; and the next moment a long, loud cheer, attested the popularity of the old man’s decision.

“Another cheer for Father Albach, and three more for licking the ripscallious varmints clean to death!” cried our old acquaintance, Isaac Younker, who, having been otherwise occupied during the discussion concerning Crawford’s defeat, had joined the crowd on the arrival of the messenger.

“Good for Ike,” shouted one:  “Hurray!” and four lusty cheers followed.

All now became bustle and confusion, as each set himself to preparing for the morrow’s expedition.  Guns were brought out and cleaned, locks examined, new flints put in place of old ones, bullets cast, powder-horns replenished, horses driven within the enclosure, saddles and bridles overhauled, and, in fact, every thing requisite for the journey was made ready as fast as possible.

Isaac, on the present occasion, was by no means indolent; for having examined his rifle, and found it in a good condition, he immediately brought forth an old saddle and bridle, somewhat the worse for wear, and set himself down to repairing them, wherever needed, by thongs of deerskin.  While engaged in this laudable occupation, a young lad came running to and informed him, that there was a stranger down by the gate who wished to speak with him immediately.

“A stranger!” replied Isaac, looking up in surprise.  “Why, what in the name o’ all creation can a stranger be wanting with me?  Why don’t he come and see me, if he wants to see me, and not put me to all this here trouble, jest when I’m gitting ready to go and lick some o’ them red heathen like all nater?”

“Don’t know, sir,” answered the lad, “what his reasons be for not coming, any more nor you; but he said to the man as opened the gate for him, ‘Is Isaac Younker in the fort?’ and the man said, ‘Yes;’ and then he said to me, ’Run, my little lad, and tell him to come here, and I’ll gin you some thing;’ and that’s all I knows about it.”

“Well, I ’spose I’ll have to go,” rejoined Isaac, rising to his feet; “but I don’t think much o’ the feller as puts a gentleman to all this here trouble, jest for nothing at all, as one may say, when a feller’s in a hurry too.  Howsomever,” continued he, soliloquizing, as he walked forward in the proper direction, “I ’spect it’s some chap as wants to hoax me, or else he’s putting on the extras; ef so, I’ll fix him, so he won’t want to do it agin right immediately, I reckon.”