Burgoyne (rising in amazement).  Satisfactory, sir!  Satisfactory!!  (He stares at him for a moment, and then adds, with grim intensity) I am glad you take that view of them.

Swindon (puzzled).  Do I understand that in your opinion—–­

Burgoyne.  I do not express my opinion.  I never stoop to that habit of profane language which unfortunately coarsens our profession.  If I did, sir, perhaps I should be able to express my opinion of the news from Springtown—­the news which you (severely) have apparently not heard.  How soon do you get news from your supports here?—­in the course of a month eh?

Swindon (turning sulky).  I suppose the reports have been taken to you, sir, instead of to me.  Is there anything serious?

Burgoyne (taking a report from his pocket and holding it up).  Springtown’s in the hands of the rebels. (He throws the report on the table.)

Swindon (aghast).  Since yesterday!

Burgoyne.  Since two o’clock this morning.  Perhaps we shall be in their hands before two o’clock to-morrow morning.  Have you thought of that?

Swindon (confidently).  As to that, General, the British soldier will give a good account of himself.

Burgoyne (bitterly).  And therefore, I suppose, sir, the British officer need not know his business:  the British soldier will get him out of all his blunders with the bayonet.  In future, sir, I must ask you to be a little less generous with the blood of your men, and a little more generous with your own brains.

Swindon.  I am sorry I cannot pretend to your intellectual eminence, sir.  I can only do my best, and rely on the devotion of my countrymen.

Burgoyne (suddenly becoming suavely sarcastic).  May I ask are you writing a melodrama, Major Swindon?

Swindon (flushing).  No, sir.

Burgoyne.  What a pity!  What a pity! (Dropping his sarcastic tone and facing him suddenly and seriously) Do you at all realize, sir, that we have nothing standing between us and destruction but our own bluff and the sheepishness of these colonists?  They are men of the same English stock as ourselves:  six to one of us (repeating it emphatically), six to one, sir; and nearly half our troops are Hessians, Brunswickers, German dragoons, and Indians with scalping knives.  These are the countrymen on whose devotion you rely!  Suppose the colonists find a leader!  Suppose the news from Springtown should turn out to mean that they have already found a leader!  What shall we do then?  Eh?

Swindon (sullenly).  Our duty, sir, I presume.

Burgoyne (again sarcastic—­giving him up as a fool).  Quite so, quite so.  Thank you, Major Swindon, thank you.  Now you’ve settled the question, sir—­thrown a flood of light on the situation.  What a comfort to me to feel that I have at my side so devoted and able an officer to support me in this emergency!  I think, sir, it will probably relieve both our feelings if we proceed to hang this dissenter without further delay (he strikes the bell), especially as I am debarred by my principles from the customary military vent for my feelings. (The sergeant appears.) Bring your man in.