No mention of a second white man, though. He wondered if that meant the Oneida had caught Lawrence and killed him. One could but hope. But that led to a more pertinent question: how, in the name of Hades, did Hooper come to be travelling with a band of Mohawk? Yet another enigma to add to what was fast becoming a lengthy list.

“Only seven? Why haven’t you attacked?” Quade demanded, eyeing the troops, most of whom were being held in formation, save for the skirmishers who had found cover along the edge of the trees from where they could watch and await further orders and direct fire as necessary.

“We were awaiting your return, sir.”

To lead the charge, you mean, Quade thought. Against seven men?

He searched for signs of guile but Dettweiler’s face remained maddeningly neutral, as did the sergeant’s.

I do not have their respect, Quade realized; the revelation forming a hollow pit in his stomach. He turned towards the abattis. The shooting had died away. The enemy were not engaging either. Saving their shots, Quade deduced. Then another possibility struck him. Maybe they want to parley?

Lieutenant Dettweiler broke into his thoughts. “Your orders, Major?”

Quade turned to the sergeant and passed him the musket. “Find a home for that and tell the skirmishers to prepare.”

“Sir?”

“We’re going to put the bastards out of their misery. It’s what you do with wounded animals. And when that’s done, we will resume our mission. We will march to Lacolle with all dispatch and take their Goddamned blockhouse before the morning is out.”

The sergeant frowned but responded, “Yes, sir. Very good, sir.”

Quade saw what looked suspiciously like an expression of doubt pass over the lieutenant’s face. As the sergeant moved out of earshot, he fixed Dettweiler with a cold eye. “Something on your mind, Lieutenant?”

Dettweiler hesitated then drew himself up. “Permission to speak freely, Major?”

Quade nodded curtly. “Out with it.”

“It’s just that the sounds of our exchanges may have carried. It’s possible the British now know we’re coming.”

“And …?” Quade stared at him for several seconds. “Are you implying we should turn back?”

“Sir, I—” the lieutenant’s voice faltered.

“Because that’s what it sounds like,” Quade said, knowing there was never going to come a time when he would admit he’d been having the same thought. Not now that he had Hooper in his sights.

Dettweiler shifted uncomfortably. He knew there was no point in retracting the statement; he’d already committed himself. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said stiffly, “but I believe I would be remiss in my duty if I did not remind the major of the losses we’ve taken during this morning’s engagements – at least two dozen men killed or wounded.”