of countenance, but with a firm and determined tone of voice, he said to his own people, "Go out quietly and get your guns loaded; and if one drop of blood is shed here to-day, be sure that not one of these Frenchmen get back to their vessels. But be sure and"—he said it with great emphasis, "let Cringy be the first man killed."
This was more than Cringy had bargained for. And how is he to get out of this awkward scrape? The lion has been aroused, and how shall he be pacified? But this is just the position to call out Cringy's peculiar gift, and he set to work in the most penitent terms. He acknowledged, and begged pardon for his rash, unadvised counsel; reminded his father-in-law that they were all liable to do wrong sometimes, and that this was the most grievous error of his whole life. And as to the threat of the commodore, a single word from him would be sufficient to put a stop to all hostile intentions.
The wrath of the King was assuaged. The commodore, however, by this time had grown impatient to know what was going on, and especially, why the people had left the house so abruptly. With the utmost self-possession, Cringy replied that the people had gone to catch a sheep, which the King had ordered for the commodore's dinner; and as to signing the paper, that would be done when the commodore was ready to take his departure. And to effect these two objects, Cringy relied wholly upon his own power of persuasion.
True enough the sheep was produced and the paper was signed. King George and the French commodore parted good friends, and neither of them knew for
