CHAPTER III

THE RAPE OF THE DEMIJOHN


The row down at the river house was more noise than fight, so far
as results seemed to indicate. It was all about a small dame
jeanne of fine brandy, which an Indian by the name of Long-Hair
had seized and run off with at the height of the carousal. He must
have been soberer than his pursuers, or naturally fleeter; for not
one of them could catch him, or even keep long in sight of him.
Some pistols were emptied while the race was on, and two or three
of the men swore roundly to having seen Long-Hair jump sidewise
and stagger, as if one of the shots had taken effect. But,
although the moon was shining, he someway disappeared, they could
not understand just how, far down beside the river below the fort
and the church.

It was not a very uncommon thing for an Indian to steal what he
wanted, and in most cases light punishment followed conviction;
but it was felt to be a capital offense for an Indian or anybody
else to rape a demijohn of fine brandy, especially one sent as a
present, by a friend in New Orleans, to Lieutenant Governor
Abbott, who had until recently been the commandant of the post.
Every man at the river house recognized and resented the enormity
of Long-Hair's crime and each was, for the moment, ready to be his