"It isn't going to be told unless you tell it, Calhoun, and you're too
much of a sportsman for that. Besides:

"Why shouldn't you have one of these if you want it--if you want it!"

"What'd be the good of my wanting it? I could get a commission here in
the army of George III, if I wanted it, but I don't want it; and any man
that offers it to me, I'll hand it back with thanks and be damned to
you!"

"Listen to me, then, Calhoun," remarked Boyne, reaching out a hand to lay
it on Dyck's arm.

Dyck saw the motion, however, and carefully drew back in his chair. "I'm
not an adventurer," he said; "but if I were, what would there be in it
for me?"

Boyne misunderstood the look on Dyck's face. He did not grasp the
meaning behind the words, and he said to him:

"Oh, a good salary--as good as that of a general, with a commission and
the spoils of war! That's the thing in the French army that counts for
so much--spoils of war. When they're out on a country like this, they
let their officers loose--their officers and men. Did you ever hear tell
of a French army being pinched for fodder, or going thirsty for drink, or
losing its head for poverty or indigence?"

"No, I never did."

"Well, then, take the advice of an officer of the French army resident