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“The wonder expressed at every mess-table has been the cause of your tarrying here.”

“So I am the topic of the conversation of your military circles,” said Hampton, with a pleased expression. “And what was their surmise as to the cause of my tarrying here.”

“That you were awaiting orders from General Wilkinson.”

The General sprung to his feet in anger and excitement. “What! Do they so insult me? Look you, young man, are you telling the truth or dare come here to beard me?”

“On my honor, General Hampton, I only repeat what I have heard a hundred times.”

“Then, when you hear it again, that I await the orders of that impudent pill-maker who masquerades at Oswego as a general, say it is a lie! General Hampton takes no orders from him; he despises him as a man and as a soldier—a soldier, quotha! A political mountebank, a tippler and a poltroon. Here I have been, ready to pluck up the last vestige of British authority on this continent for two months past, and been hindered by the government entrusting the Western wing of my army to a craven who refuses to recognize my authority and who lets I would wait on I dare not.”