Nathaniel looked bored. “Shot for disobeying orders! If everybody in this army that disobeyed orders was shot, there wouldn’t be any army! Anyway, I’m not disobeying orders. If we’d discovered anything new, maybe you might stretch a point and say I wasn’t exactly obeying orders; but the way things are, where’s the harm if I stay in St. John’s a few hours to get some rest?”

“Where’s the harm—after what Arnold said to us about obeying orders? You heard him speak of Butterfield and Bedel, didn’t you? You heard Steven Nason give his word to Arnold that he could depend on us?”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Nathaniel cried, “I’m sick of hearing about Arnold! How Arnold marched to Quebec; how he did wonders at the Cedars; how he’ll raise hell with the British—Arnold, Arnold, Arnold—you’d think that damned horse-jockey was the only officer we had!”

“What was that? What was it you called Arnold?”

Nathaniel’s face and voice were sullen. “ ‘Horse-jockey’ was what I said. That’s all he was before the war—a cheap horse-trader and horse-jockey. Everybody knows it. That’s why he went to war—to make money out of it!”

“What in God’s name are you talking about?” I demanded. “Arnold’s a sea captain and shipowner—a man of property and position. His father before him was a sea captain and shipowner. His great-grandfather was Governor of Rhode Island—a gentleman of the highest character and distinction. Arnold himself is the same sort of person, Steven Nason says.”

“I don’t care what he says! Steven Nason’s an uneducated man, just the way Arnold is. Arnold could tell him anything, probably, and Nason’d believe him.”

“Don’t say anything you’d regret,” I told him. “Steven Nason may not have what Harvard calls an education, but he can talk the Abenaki language, and drive a straight furrow, and keep a company of soldiers under control, and get along with his neighbors. He doesn’t believe everything he hears, like some educated dunces I’ve met; and he knows the difference between what’s good and what’s worthless, though that’s something colleges don’t seem to be able to teach. And to top it all off, he’s had a year of war. It’s hard to believe, but there’s those who’d prefer Steven Nason’s education to that of some who’ve spent four years in college and almost learned to read the Bible in Greek.” I eyed him severely, to let him know he could apply my words to himself if he so desired. Then I asked him, “Who told you Arnold was a horse-jockey?”