The old Sergeant trembled.

"He is a brave man," he persisted.

"Chatelain, you are a child. Are you afraid that I am going to repeat
what you say to your new Captain?"

I had touched him to the quick. He drew himself up.

"Sergeant Chatelain is afraid of no one, Lieutenant. He has been at
Abomey, against the Amazons, in a country where a black arm started
out from every bush to seize your leg, while another cut it off for
you with one blow of a cutlass."

"Then what they say, what you yourself--"

"That is talk."

"Talk which is repeated in France, Chatelain, everywhere."

He bent his head still lower without replying.

"Ass," I burst out, "will you speak?"

"Lieutenant, Lieutenant," he fairly pled, "I swear that what I know,
or nothing--"

"What you know you are going to tell me, and right away. If not, I
give you my word of honor that, for a month, I shall not speak to you
except on official business."