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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42894 ***
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustration.
+      See 42894-h.htm or 42894-h.zip:
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/42894/42894-h/42894-h.htm)
+      or
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/42894/42894-h.zip)
+
+
+      Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive. See
+      https://archive.org/details/shadowofvictory00reedrich
+
+
+
+
+
+ [Illustration: "An arrow sang past her, then another just missed her,
+  and she leaned forward, close to the horse."
+                                                (_page 374_)]
+
+
+THE SHADOW OF VICTORY
+
+A Romance of Fort Dearborn
+
+by
+
+MYRTLE REED
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+G. P. Putnam's Sons
+New York and London
+The Knickerbocker Press
+1903
+
+Copyright, 1903
+By
+Myrtle Reed
+
+Published, September, 1903
+
+The Knickerbocker Press, New York
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+  CHAPTER                             PAGE
+
+     I.--THE PROPHECY                     1
+    II.--NEW ACQUAINTANCES               21
+   III.--THE SECOND IN COMMAND           37
+    IV.--RONALD'S VIEWS OF MARRIAGE      54
+     V.--THE FIRST FLOWER OF SPRING      69
+    VI.--COUSINS                         85
+   VII.--THE ALARM                      102
+  VIII.--THOROUGHBREDS                  118
+    IX.--ON THE FORT WAYNE TRAIL        134
+     X.--A GLEAM AFAR                   150
+    XI.--A JUNE DAY                     165
+   XII.--IN THE NORTH WOODS             182
+  XIII.--GIFTS                          198
+   XIV.--HEART'S DESIRE                 216
+    XV.--RIVALS                         234
+   XVI.--THE WORM TURNS                 251
+   XVII.--A COUNCIL OF WAR              268
+  XVIII.--"IF I WERE IN COMMAND"        285
+    XIX.--SAVED FROM HIMSELF            300
+     XX.--RECONCILIATION                318
+    XXI.--THE LAST DAY IN THE FORT      336
+   XXII.--THE RED DEATH                 359
+   XXIII.--RESCUE                       380
+    XXIV.--THE REPRIEVE                 397
+
+
+
+
+THE SHADOW OF VICTORY
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE PROPHECY
+
+
+It was a long, low room, with a fireplace, roughly built of limestone,
+at one end of it. The blazing logs illuminated one corner and sent
+strange shadows into the others, while the winter wind moaned drearily
+outside. At the right and left of the fireplace were rude counters,
+hewn from logs, resting on stumps of unequal height, and behind
+them were shelves, packed with the sordid miscellany of a frontier
+trading-post. A closed door on either side seemingly led to other
+apartments, but there was no sound save the wind and the crackle of
+the flames.
+
+A candle, thrust into the broken neck of a bottle, gave a feeble light
+to a little space around one end of the counter on which it stood.
+The rafters were low--so low that a tall man, standing on tiptoe,
+might easily unhook the smoked hams and sides of bacon that hung
+there, swaying back and forth when the wind shook the house.
+
+Walls, ceiling, and floor were of logs, cut into a semblance of
+smoothness. The chinks were plastered with a bluish clay, and the
+crevices in the floor were filled with a mixture of clay and small
+chips. At the left of the chimney was a rude ladder which led to the
+loft through an opening in the ceiling. Fingers of sleet tapped at the
+glass, swirling phantoms of snow drifted by, pausing for a moment at
+the windows, as if to look within, and one of the men moved his chair
+closer to the fire.
+
+"You fed the cattle, didn't you, Chan?" The half-breed grunted assent.
+
+It was the eldest of the three who had spoken. His crouching position
+in his chair partially concealed his great height, but the firelight
+shone full upon his iron-grey hair and the deep lines seamed upon his
+kindly face. His hands were rough and knotted, his fingers straight
+and square at the tips--hands without beauty, but full of strength.
+
+The hand which rested on the arm of the chair next to him was
+entirely different. It was fair and smooth and slender, with tapering
+fingers, and with the outer line of the palm delicately curved;
+instinct with strength of another sort, yet gentle almost to the point
+of femininity. The hand accorded ill with the deep, melodious voice of
+the man, when he said:
+
+"Uncle, you don't know how glad I am to be here with you and Aunt
+Eleanor. I feel as if I had come home at last, after many wanderings."
+
+"You're welcome, my boy," was the hearty answer. "I'm glad you got
+through before this storm came, 'cause travellin' 'cross country isn't
+good in February, as a rule. Things will be closed up now till Spring."
+
+"And then--what?" asked the young man.
+
+"Trains of pack-horses from Rock River and the Illinois. Canoes and
+a bateau from Milwaukee, in charge of Canadian _engagés_. Then the
+vessel from Fort Mackinac with goods for the trade, and Indians from
+all over creation. The busy season begins in the Spring."
+
+Chandonnais, the half-breed, was audibly asleep in his warm corner,
+and the guest arose to walk nervously about the room. He was clad in
+rusty black broadcloth, which had seen all of its best days and some
+of its worst, and clung closely to his tall, lank figure, as though
+in fear of the ultimate separation. His hair was black and straight,
+his eyes deep brown and strangely luminous, his mouth sensitive, and
+his face very pale. He was not more than twenty-five or six, and
+looked even younger.
+
+John Mackenzie quietly watched him in his uneasy march back and forth.
+At last he came to the fire, stopped short, and put a questioning
+finger upon the limestone. "Here's some initials," he said. "J. B. P.
+D. S.--what does that stand for?"
+
+"Jean Baptiste Pointe de Saible, I reckon," replied Mackenzie. "He
+built this cabin. The Indians say that the first white man here was a
+negro."
+
+"P. L. M."--continued the young man. "Who was he?"
+
+"Pierre Le Mai, I guess--the French trader I bought the place from."
+
+"You should put yours here, too, Uncle."
+
+"Not I, my boy. I have come to stay--and my children after me."
+
+"That reminds me of my young charge. Shall we begin to-morrow?"
+
+"As you like. The sooner the better, I suppose. You brought books,
+didn't you?"
+
+"All that I have; not many, I regret to say."
+
+"Johnny has a spelling-book that came from Mackinac in a chest of
+green tea, when the vessel touched here last year. He was very anxious
+then to know what was inside of it, but I don't know how he feels now."
+
+"Have you any special instructions for me?"
+
+"No," answered Mackenzie, rising. He put his hand on the young
+man's shoulder and looked down into his face. "I never had much
+book-learning," he said, "'cause I ran away from school, but I want
+that my son should have it. Teach him everything you know that he can
+learn; it won't hurt him none. Teach him to tell the truth, to be
+afraid of nothing but dishonour, and to be kind to women. You look
+like your mother, boy."
+
+The door opened suddenly, and the gust of wind that came in with it
+put out the candle and filled the room with the odour of burning
+tallow. "How!" grunted a stalwart Indian, in general salutation.
+
+"How!" responded Mackenzie. "What is it to-night?"
+
+The savage was more than six feet in height, and looked like the chief
+that he was. He was dressed from head to foot in buckskin, cunningly
+embroidered and beaded by a squaw. He wore nothing on his head, but a
+brilliant blanket was draped over one shoulder. A powder-horn hung at
+his side and a hunting-knife gleamed in his belt.
+
+The squaw came in behind her lord and master, and shut the door, three
+grey wolf skins falling to the floor as she did so. "Shaw-ne-aw-kee,"
+commanded the Indian, pointing to Mackenzie.
+
+The woman obediently laid the skins upon the counter, and Black
+Partridge began to bargain for flour and bacon, speaking his own
+tongue. An animated conversation ensued, with many gestures on
+the part of the Indian. Mackenzie answered quietly, in the harsh
+Pottawattomie dialect, and stood his ground. The chief finally
+yielded, with a good grace which might or might not have been genuine,
+and the transfer was accomplished.
+
+The Indian picked up one of the skins and pointed to a blood stain
+near the top of it, then began to talk rapidly. Mackenzie listened
+till he had finished speaking, then turned to his nephew.
+
+"Look here, Rob," he said, "this will interest you. He says he had no
+trap, so he took his last piece of bacon and his hunting-knife and
+went up into the north woods. He sat down under a tree and waited,
+with the bacon in his left hand and his knife in his right. Presently
+the hungry wolf appeared, and, after due investigation, came near
+enough to stab. He says he waited from midnight till almost sunrise. A
+white man never could do that."
+
+"Hardly," returned the young man, fingering the skin curiously. "What
+monumental patience!"
+
+This speech, with a little additional compliment, was translated
+for the benefit of Black Partridge, whose stolid features gleamed
+momentarily, then relapsed into impassive bronze.
+
+A cheery whistle was heard outside, then a stamp upon the piazza, a
+merry and prolonged tapping, reinforced by a kick, at which the door
+burst open, and a young soldier entered.
+
+"Evening!" he shouted to Mackenzie. He pounded the Indian familiarly
+on the back, saying, "Hello, Birdie," tweaked the squaw's ear and
+tickled her under the chin, and reached the fire before any one else
+had time to speak.
+
+"Ronald," said Mackenzie, "this is my nephew, Robert Forsyth, from
+Detroit. Mr. Forsyth, Ensign George Ronald, of Fort Dearborn."
+
+Ronald drew his heels together, saluted with mock solemnity, then
+wrung Forsyth's slender hand in a grip that made him wince. "Proud to
+know you, sir. Third in command, at your service, sir. Have you come
+to enlist?"
+
+Chandonnais awoke, muttered an oath, and ran to the door, shutting it
+noisily. "Your pardon, sir," continued Ronald. "Wind's from the south
+this evening. Thought I'd let a little warm air in. Never appreciated
+in this world. Hope I may be in the next. Do I speak to a soldier,
+sir?"
+
+"No," laughed Forsyth.
+
+"Who's the lady you have with you, Birdie?" asked the Ensign, turning
+to the Indian. "Am I mistaken in supposing it to be Mrs. B. Partridge?"
+
+"Me no spik Ingleesh," answered the chief, with great dignity.
+
+"Neither do I, Birdie, neither do I," continued the soldier, genially.
+"Devilish language with all kinds of corners in it to hurt yourself
+on. I was pitched into it headlong the day of my arrival, and have
+been at sea ever since. Don't fool with it, Birdie. You're getting
+on all right with signs and pictures and grunts, and if Mrs. B. P.
+doesn't speak it, why, so much the better. Vast resources in the
+language known to women only. What, going? Bye-bye!"
+
+Another breeze from the south entered the room as Black Partridge and
+the squaw made a stately exit, the woman carrying the provisions for
+which the wolf skins had been bartered.
+
+"Ronald," began Mackenzie, drawing another chair from behind the
+counter, "I'd advise you to be more careful with the Indians. They're
+a treacherous crowd."
+
+"I am careful," answered the Ensign, hurling a very shabby overcoat
+across the room, and sinking comfortably into Mackenzie's chair.
+"That's why I asked about Mrs. B. P. You see, I was skating on the
+river this morning, before this little snow flurry struck us, and I
+met this lady. She seemed to want to go, so I took her with me. She
+slid along on her moccasins, hanging on behind, and had a fine time
+till we struck a snowdrift, just around the bend. The woman tempted
+me, and I did throw her into it. Lord, how she squalled! It may have
+been ungallant, but it was fun."
+
+Mackenzie laughed, in spite of his well-meant efforts to keep his
+face straight, and Forsyth's eyes were bright with new interest.
+Chandonnais was asleep again.
+
+"It was quite natural to make inquiries, wasn't it?" resumed Ronald.
+"I wouldn't want to throw another man's wife into a snowdrift,
+especially when the gentleman in question is a six-foot savage with a
+tomahawk, and peculiar ideas about fair play."
+
+"Your manner of speech is not suited to the Indians," said Mackenzie,
+soberly.
+
+"There you go again--always criticising, always finding fault.
+Criticism irks me. That's why I left the Fort this evening. Fussy lot,
+over there."
+
+"What was the matter?" asked Forsyth.
+
+"Nothing at all. Captain and his wife reading last month's papers, and
+taking no notice of visitors. Lieutenant and his wife writing letters,
+likewise oblivious of visitors. All inhospitable--nobody asked me to
+sit down. Barracks asleep. Doc and I played solitaire, because it's
+the only game he knows--to see who could get through first, and he
+kicked up a devil of a row because I cheated. Hasn't a man a right to
+cheat when he's playing solitaire? No law against cheating yourself,
+is there?"
+
+"That's a mooted question," Forsyth answered.
+
+"Maybe so, maybe so. I mooted it awhile with the Doc, and then quit.
+Coming over, I managed to get into the hole I broke in the river for
+this morning's bath, but it was all slush and ice--no harm done."
+
+His garments were steaming in the generous warmth of the fire, and
+perspiration beaded his forehead. He stood a little over six feet in
+his stockings, and his superb muscle was evident in every line of his
+body. His thick, yellow hair was so long that he occasionally shook it
+back, like a mane. He had the face of a Viking--blue eyes, straight
+nose, red and white complexion, and a mouth and chin that in some way
+suggested steel. One felt the dynamic force of the man, his power of
+instant and permanent decision, and the ability to put that decision
+into immediate action.
+
+"Sorry you're not going to be a soldier, Mr. Forsyth," he continued.
+"I knew you weren't, as soon as I saw you--you're altogether too
+young. The barracks are full of old ladies with the rheumatism. The
+parade ground is bloody with red flannel when the troops limp out,
+which is seldom, by the way, the Captain having a tender heart. Me and
+the other officers are the only ones under the age limit, if there is
+any age limit. When a man gets too old to be of use in the army, the
+President says: 'Don't discharge the poor cuss--send him out to Fort
+Dearborn, where all his old friends are. He'll be well taken care of,
+and won't have anything to do.' When you see an old man in a tattered
+uniform, bent and wrinkled and gummy-eyed, who puts his hand up to his
+ear and says, 'Hey!' when you speak to him, don't step on him--he's a
+soldier, stationed at the Fort.
+
+"Had a wrestling match with one of the most sprightly, this very
+morning, and took the skin off the poor, tender old devil in several
+places. Doc made a surpassingly fine seam at one of the places
+afterward--Doc's pretty good with a needle and thread. The patient
+is in his bunk now, being rubbed with hot things by one of the
+rheumatics. I've tried to get the Doc to prescribe a plunge in the
+river every morning for the barracks, and I've urged the Captain to
+order it, but it's no use."
+
+"Peculiar treatment for rheumatism," smiled Mackenzie.
+
+"It's the only thing they haven't tried, and I'm inclined to think it
+would work a change."
+
+There was a brief silence, during which Forsyth studied the young
+officer attentively, but Ronald was never still very long.
+
+"What are you going to be, if not a soldier?" he asked, curiously.
+"You're--you're not a missionary, are you?"
+
+"Do I look like one?"
+
+"Can't say--missionaries are deceiving; but I hope not. The
+Pottawattomies tomahawked the last one and fried the remains. They're
+not yet ready for the soothing influences of religion."
+
+"I have come to teach my young cousins," said Forsyth, slowly, "and
+to help my uncle as I can. I graduated from college last year, and
+went to Detroit to teach, but I--I didn't do very well." His pale face
+reddened as he made his confession. "Uncle John and Aunt Eleanor have
+kindly offered me a home with them," he went on. "They're the only
+relatives I have."
+
+"They are relatives enough," remarked the Ensign. "Mrs. Mackenzie is
+the kindest woman and the best cook that ever lived, isn't she, Chan?"
+
+The sleeper made no reply, so Ronald strode over to him and shook him
+roughly. "Wake up!" he bellowed. "Is Mrs. Mackenzie a good cook, or
+isn't she? Answer!"
+
+The half-breed was frightened for a moment, but quickly realised the
+situation. "What?" he asked.
+
+The question was repeated, with sundry shakes for emphasis. "Yes,"
+grunted Chandonnais, sheepishly, "she good cook."
+
+"Sit up straight, then, and look your prettiest. You can't sleep all
+day and all night, too." The restless visitor made a rapid tour around
+the counters, carefully examining the goods upon the shelves. "Nothing
+here I can use," he announced, returning to the fire.
+
+"What was that silver thing the Indian had on?" asked Forsyth. "It
+looked like a coin of some kind."
+
+"That was his precious medal. Captain Wells gave it to him, and he
+prizes it more than he does the hair of his lordly top piece. When
+Birdie dies, you'll find that sacred medal nailed to him, and if it
+doesn't accompany him to the happy hunting-grounds, his ghost will
+haunt the miserable mortal who has it. Don't mind a plain ghost
+myself, but a ghost with a tomahawk might be pretty bad."
+
+"I make silver things for the Indians, sometimes," Mackenzie said.
+"They call me 'Shaw-ne-aw-kee,' meaning 'The Silver Man.'"
+
+A face appeared at the window for an instant, and peered furtively
+within. It was so silent and so white, in the midst of the swirling
+snow, that it might have been a phantom of the storm. Then the door
+opened slowly, creaking ever so little on its hinges, and was softly
+closed. They felt, rather than heard, a presence in the room.
+
+Forsyth, turning, saw a wisp of a woman, bent and old, in a faded blue
+calico dress which came scarcely to her ankles. Her shoes were much
+too large for her, and badly worn. A ragged shawl, of uncertain colour
+and pattern, was her only protection from the cold.
+
+It slipped off as she came toward the fire, moving noiselessly, and
+Forsyth saw that her hair was snow white and her face finely traced
+with wrinkles. Mackenzie looked also.
+
+"Mad Margaret," he whispered to Forsyth, in a swift aside. "Don't say
+anything."
+
+The half-breed's eyes had a wolfish glitter which no one saw. Forsyth
+rose, bowed politely, and offered her his chair.
+
+If she saw him, she made no sign. Coming closer to the fire she
+crouched on her knees before it and stretched her frail, delicate
+hands toward the grateful warmth. Ronald's flood of high spirits
+instantly receded.
+
+For a long time they sat there in silence. Mackenzie and the Ensign
+were looking into the fire, thinking, perhaps, of things a thousand
+miles away, while Forsyth and Chandonnais narrowly watched the woman.
+
+Unmistakable madness, of the dumb, pathetic kind, was written on her
+face. Her unseeing eyes were faded blue, her cheeks were sunken, and
+her chin delicately pointed. Solitude went with her always. She might
+have been alone, in the primeval forest, before a fire some unknown
+hand had kindled, among wild beasts of whom she was not afraid.
+Some eerie influence was upon her, for, after a little, she moved
+nervously, and peered into the flames, muttering to herself.
+
+"Oh, Lord," groaned Mackenzie, "she's goin' to have one of her spells!"
+
+How often the poor, crazed creature had sought him, when the tempests
+swept her soul, only he could tell. He leaned forward and took hold of
+her hand. "Margaret," he said; "Margaret."
+
+The touch and the voice seemed to quiet her, but she still looked
+searchingly into the flames. Chandonnais rose, reached up to the
+chimney-shelf, and took down a violin. With the first touch of the bow
+upon the strings, she left Mackenzie and went to him, kneeling at his
+feet, with her eyes fixed hungrily upon his face.
+
+Strains of wild music filled the room--music which no man had ever
+heard before. A tender, half-hushed whisper, the tinkle of a brook, a
+twilight subtleness of shadow, then a low, crooning note, as if the
+brook had gone to sleep. Strange sounds of swaying branches came from
+the violin, with murmurs of a mighty wind, then, of a sudden, there
+seemed to be dawn. The tinkle of the brook began again, with a bird
+note here and there, at the beginning of a great crescendo which swept
+on and on, as the music of the river was woven in. Question, prayer,
+and mating call, from a thousand silvery throats, rioted through
+the tapestry of sound, then merged into a deep, passionate tone of
+infinite sweetness, as if the river had found the sea, or a man's
+tortured soul had come face to face with its ultimate peace.
+
+"Play," said Mad Margaret, brokenly, "play more."
+
+Once again the bow swept the strings, bringing forth a melody which
+breathed rest. It was quiet and hushed, like the woods at twilight,
+or the shore of a sea that knows no storm. Through it ran a haunting
+cadence, with the rhythm of a lullaby, and Margaret rocked her frail
+body back and forth, unconsciously keeping time. When it was finished,
+she sat quite still, but on her face was the rapt look of the seer.
+
+"I see blood," she said, very distinctly. "Much blood, then fire, and
+afterward peace."
+
+It was the old, old prophecy, which she had made a thousand times.
+"Much blood," she repeated, shaking her head sadly.
+
+"Where, Peggy?" asked Ronald, suddenly.
+
+"Here," she answered, making a wide circle with her arms.
+
+"What else do you see?" he asked again, looking at her intently.
+
+She drew her hand wearily across her forehead and closed her eyes for
+an instant, then went to him, and put her hands on his knees.
+
+"I see you," she said, meaningly.
+
+"Where, Peggy?" His voice was low and very gentle, as if he were
+speaking to a child.
+
+"Here, with the blood. You shall have many sorrows, but never your
+heart's desire."
+
+"Never my heart's desire?"
+
+"No. Many sorrows, at the time of the blood, but not that."
+
+"What is my heart's desire?"
+
+"It has not come, but you will know it soon." She looked at him keenly
+for an instant, then laughed mockingly, and almost before they knew
+it, she had darted out into the night like the wild thing that she was.
+
+No one spoke until after Chandonnais had put the violin in its place
+on the chimney-shelf and clambered up the ladder which led to the
+loft.
+
+"Who is she, Uncle?"
+
+"Nobody knows," sighed Mackenzie. "She appeared, unexpectedly, the
+very day we came here. Sometimes months go by without a glimpse of
+her, then, for a time, she will come every day."
+
+"How does she live?"
+
+Mackenzie shrugged his shoulders. "We give her things," he said, "and
+so do the Indians and the people at the Fort. Black Partridge says he
+has seen her catch a gull on the lake shore, strangle it, and eat it
+raw. At the full of the moon, when her rages come on her, she speaks
+very good English. At other times, she mutters something no one can
+understand, or else she does not speak at all. She is harmless, I
+believe. She is only one of the strange things one finds in a new
+country."
+
+"How did you come to settle here, Uncle?"
+
+"I hardly know. It's a good place for trading, and the Fort is near
+by. I like the new places, where a few make their own laws, and I like
+the prairie. I can breathe here, but the hills choke me."
+
+"Never my heart's desire," mused the Ensign. He was sitting with his
+elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, gazing into the fire.
+He did not know that he had spoken aloud.
+
+"Do any of us ever find it?" asked Forsyth.
+
+"Not often, I guess," answered Mackenzie. "When we do, we are
+disappointed and begin to seek for something else."
+
+From across the river, muffled by the storm, came the deep, sonorous
+notes of a bell. "Taps," said Ronald. He hurried into his overcoat,
+without a word of farewell, and bolted.
+
+Forsyth followed, to close the door after him, and then went to the
+window to look at the dark, floundering figure silhouetted dimly
+against the snow.
+
+"Breezy young man," commented Mackenzie.
+
+"Yes," answered Forsyth, after a moment's silence, "I like him."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+NEW ACQUAINTANCES
+
+
+The next morning was cold and clear. The sun shone brilliantly,
+revealing unsuspected diamonds set in the snow. Forsyth woke late,
+wondered sleepily where he was, and then remembered.
+
+His room was at the western end of the house, which faced the south,
+and from his window he could see the Fort and the Agency on the other
+side of the river. A savoury suggestion of frying bacon, penetrating
+the rough log partition, impelled him to dress hurriedly. As he broke
+the ice in his water pitcher, he wondered whether the Ensign had taken
+his regular plunge, and shivered at the thought.
+
+When he reached the large room which served as kitchen, dining-room,
+and parlour, he found the family already assembled. Chandonnais was
+just leaving the table, and Mrs. Mackenzie sat at the head, pouring
+coffee from a quaint and battered silver pot which had been her
+grandmother's.
+
+"Good-morning," she said cheerily, "I thought most likely you were
+beat out from travelling, and I told John to let you sleep."
+
+She was a large, fair woman, matronly in every line, and her face
+was delicately pink. Her abundant hair was ashen blonde, escaping in
+little curls at her temples, and at the second glance one saw that
+it was rapidly turning grey. She had a wholesome air of cleanliness,
+and her blue eyes mirrored the kindness in the depths of her motherly
+heart.
+
+Her brood was gathered around her, and every face had been scrubbed
+until it shone. The baby sat at her right and pounded the table madly
+with his pewter spoon, to the evident delight of his father. Maria
+Indiana was sipping warm milk daintily, like the four-year-old lady
+that she was, and Ellen and Johnny conducted themselves with more
+dignity than is common to people of seven and nine.
+
+Forsyth had made friends with the children the evening before, and, of
+his own accord, had extended the schooling to all but the baby.
+
+"It's going to be a sight of comfort to me," said Mrs. Mackenzie, "to
+have the young ones out from under foot half the time. The baby don't
+bother much. I tie him in his chair, give him something to play with,
+and he's all right."
+
+"Where am I to teach, Aunt Eleanor?"
+
+"In the next room, I guess. There's a fireplace in there, and you can
+have it all to yourselves. Just wait till the breakfast things are out
+of the way and I'll see to it."
+
+At this juncture the Ensign appeared, smiling and debonair. "Morning!
+Am I too late for coffee?"
+
+"You've had some already this morning, haven't you?" asked Mackenzie.
+
+"Well, now, that depends on what coffee really is. Of course they
+called it that, but it isn't to be mentioned in the same breath with
+Mrs. Mackenzie's." Robert noted that there was an extra cup on the
+table, and surmised that the delicate hint was not infrequent.
+
+"Thank you," continued the visitor in a grateful tone; "you've saved
+my life."
+
+"I wish I had a dollar for every time I've saved your life," laughed
+Mrs. Mackenzie.
+
+"So do I, for you are a good and beautiful woman, and you deserve a
+fortune, if anybody ever did."
+
+"Go away, you flatterer. You remind me of a big, motherless chicken."
+
+"Gaunt and chicken-like I may be, but never motherless while you live.
+A little bread and butter, please, to go with the coffee."
+
+"Wouldn't you like some bacon?" asked Mackenzie, hospitably.
+
+"Well, perhaps--a little. Mrs. Mackenzie cooks it beautifully."
+
+"Ellen," said her mother, "get another plate."
+
+"You're so good to me," murmured the Ensign, drawing his chair closer
+to his hostess. "Are those doughnuts?"
+
+"They are."
+
+"I remember once, when you gave me a doughnut, just after drill. I can
+taste it yet."
+
+"Is that so? I'd forgotten it."
+
+"Now that I think of it, you didn't, but you said you would, some
+time."
+
+She laughed and pushed the plate toward him.
+
+"Ye gods!" he exclaimed, sinking his white teeth into a doughnut,
+"what cooking! What a woman!"
+
+"I think I'll ask to be excused," said Mackenzie, rising and pushing
+back his chair.
+
+"Certainly," responded the soldier, with a gesture of elaborate
+unconcern. "Don't stay on my account, I beg of you. Think of real
+cream in your coffee!" he sighed, scraping the pitcher with a spoon.
+"I could drink cream."
+
+"You're not going to," put in Mrs. Mackenzie, pointedly.
+
+"I know it," he answered sadly; "I only wish I were."
+
+When the last scrap of food had disappeared from the table, he stopped
+eating, but not before.
+
+"That makes a man feel better," he announced, "especially a suffering
+and dying invalid like me. Come on, Forsyth, I'm going to take you
+over to the Fort for a bit."
+
+It did not occur to Robert to question the mandates of this lordly
+being. "All right, wait till I get my coat and hat. I'll be back in a
+few minutes, Aunt Eleanor, to open school."
+
+"The devil you will," observed Ronald, as they left the house. "What a
+liar you are!"
+
+The path which led to the gate was well trodden, early morning though
+it was. "Indian tracks," said the Ensign, pointing to a narrow line
+on the snow; "you can always tell 'em. They keep their feet in single
+file--no company front about their walking."
+
+An unpainted fence surrounded the Mackenzie premises, and at the
+right and left of the gate were four tall Lombardy poplars, two on
+each side. Brown sparrows chattered and fought in the bare branches,
+scorning to fly away at their approach. The house had been built on
+a point of land which projected into the river and turned it sharply
+from its course. Between the patches of snow the ice glittered in the
+sun.
+
+"Salubrious spot," commented George, as they struck the frozen surface
+of the stream. "Don't get too near that hole. It's my bath-tub and
+it's weak around the edges."
+
+Near the middle of the river was a large, jagged space in the ice and
+on the snow around it were finger-marks and footprints.
+
+"Rather looked for you out this morning," Ronald continued. "Was
+disappointed."
+
+Robert shrugged his shoulders, but made no reply.
+
+"That happy architectural combination which we now approach," his
+guide went on, professionally, "is Fort Dearborn. Intoxicated party
+drew the plans and other intoxicated parties followed 'em. I could
+improve it in several places, but I'm obliged to make the best of it.
+The flag-pole, in the middle of the parade-ground, is seventy-five
+feet high, though you wouldn't suspect it, on account of the
+heroic proportions of the other buildings, and it interferes most
+beautifully with everything.
+
+"Regular fort, though. Officers' quarters, barracks, offices,
+guard-house, magazine, and other modern inventions. Commanding officer
+has a palatial residence to himself. The Lieutenant is supposed to
+live in half of it, but he doesn't. Those warts at the south-east and
+north-west corners are block-houses, made after a Chinese diagram. The
+upper story overhangs to give a down range for musketry and keep the
+enemy from setting fire to the Fort. The double stockade is where the
+genius comes in, however. See how it slants and balances to corners.
+Makes the thing look like a quilt pattern. Would wear on the mind of a
+sensitive person.
+
+"Hello, Charley! Here's where we get in. You see there's a sunken
+road to the river and there's a subterranean passage also, with a
+well in it, which insures the water-supply in case of a siege. We've
+got three pieces of light artillery--six-pounders--and our muskets,
+bayonets, and pistols. That's the Agency House outside. Your uncle is
+Government Indian Agent and sutler for the garrison and trader on his
+own account. This is where the Captain lives."
+
+He pounded merrily at the door, then entered unceremoniously, and
+Robert followed him, awkwardly, into the room where the Captain and
+his wife sat at breakfast.
+
+Captain Franklin was a grave, silent man on the sunny side of forty,
+who never spoke without cause, and his wife was a pretty little woman,
+with dark, laughing eyes. She brightened visibly when Robert was
+presented to her, for guests did not often appear at the Fort.
+
+"Coffee?" remarked Ronald, with a rising inflection. "You're a lucky
+man, Captain, to have such coffee as Mrs. Franklin makes, every
+blessed morning of your life. I only wish I were as fortunate," he
+added impersonally.
+
+Robert bit his lips to keep from smiling as the Ensign's wants were
+promptly supplied. "Won't you have some too, Mr. Forsyth?"
+
+"No, thank you, Mrs. Franklin. I've been to breakfast."
+
+The emphasis on the personal pronoun caused George to look at him
+meaningly, as he asked if he might have a bit of toast and an apple.
+While he ate, Mrs. Franklin talked with Forsyth and the Captain
+listened in silence.
+
+"Are you going to stay?" she inquired.
+
+"Yes, I hope so. I am going to teach my young cousins and help my
+uncle in any way I can. I graduated from Yale last year and went from
+there to Detroit, but as soon as I heard that Aunt Eleanor was willing
+to take me in, I started and got here yesterday, just before the
+storm."
+
+"Did you have a pleasant journey?"
+
+"Yes, fairly so. I came by way of Fort Wayne, with Indian guides and
+relays of horses."
+
+"Any news?" asked the Captain.
+
+"No, only the usual symptoms of discontent among the Indians. The
+officers in Detroit think there may be another outbreak soon."
+
+"I don't--there's no earthly reason for it."
+
+"Indians aren't particular about reasons," put in Ronald. "Come along,
+Robert, we're going over to the Lieutenant's."
+
+When they entered, Mrs. Howard was clearing away the breakfast dishes,
+and after the introductions were over, Ronald did not hesitate to
+express his disappointment.
+
+"Get that starving kid some coffee, Kit," said the Lieutenant, and
+Ronald gladly accepted the steaming cup, with polite regret at the
+trouble he was causing and with profuse praise of the beverage itself.
+
+"Sugar?" asked Mrs. Howard.
+
+"No, thank you--just put your dainty finger in for a moment, if you
+will be so kind. Your hand would sweeten the bitterest cup man is
+called upon to drink. Seems to me I smell pancakes."
+
+He grinned appreciatively at Forsyth as Mrs. Howard went to the iron
+griddle that swung in the open fireplace. "Not many," he called to
+her, "six will do very nicely. I don't want to be a pig."
+
+"You are, though," Forsyth assured him in an undertone.
+
+"Shut up!" he replied concisely.
+
+Acting upon the suggestion, Robert turned his attention to his host,
+and they talked until the pangs of hunger were somewhat satisfied. The
+Lieutenant and his wife followed them to the door.
+
+"Tell my mother I'm coming over to see her this afternoon," said Mrs.
+Howard.
+
+"All right," answered Robert. "Who's 'mother'?" he asked, when they
+got outside.
+
+"Mrs. Mackenzie, of course. Don't you know your own relations when
+you see 'em? Mrs. Howard is your aunt's daughter and your uncle's
+step-daughter, so she's your cousin."
+
+"Cousin-in-law, I guess," said Robert. "My father was Uncle John's
+half-brother, so we're not very closely related. She's nice, though. I
+wish she were my cousin."
+
+"Coffee doesn't come up to her mother's," soliloquised George, "but
+it's pretty good. Hello, Doc!" he shouted, to a man on the opposite
+side of the parade-ground. "Had your breakfast?"
+
+"Good Heavens!" ejaculated Forsyth, "you aren't going to eat again,
+are you?"
+
+The Ensign turned upon him a look of reproach. "My rations aren't
+meant for full-grown men," he explained. "If I couldn't get a bite
+outside occasionally, I'd dry up and blow away. There's a squaw down
+in the hollow who cooks a pretty good mess, and you can get a bowl of
+it for a fist of beads. It isn't overly clean, and it's my private
+opinion it's yellow dog, stewed, or perhaps I should say, curried, but
+a starving man can't afford to be particular."
+
+"Take me some time," Forsyth suggested carelessly; "I've never eaten
+dog."
+
+"All right," was the jovial answer, "we'll go. Come on over and meet
+the Doc."
+
+Robert was duly presented to Doctor Norton, whom the soldier
+characterised as "the pill roller of the garrison," and soon seized an
+opportunity to ask him the exact capacity of the human stomach.
+
+"It varies," answered the Doctor, wrinkling his brows in deep thought.
+"Some people"----
+
+"We must go," George interrupted. "It's time for school."
+
+They parted on the bank of the river, Robert studiously avoiding an
+opportunity to shake hands. When he entered the house, his pupils were
+waiting for him.
+
+The room set aside for educational purposes was just off the
+living-room and a bright fire was burning on the hearth. He found it
+difficult to teach three grades at once, and soon arranged alternate
+study and recitation for each, dismissing Maria Indiana in an hour
+with the first three letters of the alphabet well learned.
+
+The window, like the others in the house, commanded a view of the
+river and the Fort, and gave a glimpse of the boundless plains beyond.
+Soldiers went in and out of the stockade, apparently at pleasure, and
+one or two of them came across, but he looked in vain for the stalwart
+young officer whom he was proud to call his friend.
+
+At dinner-time he inquired about the neighbours.
+
+"Neighbours?" repeated Mrs. Mackenzie, laughing; "why, we haven't any,
+except at the Fort."
+
+"Are you and Uncle John really the only people here?" he asked,
+seriously.
+
+"No, not that. There are a few houses here. Mr. and Mrs. Burns live
+in one--they are our nearest neighbours--and away up beyond is Lee's
+place. They don't have anything to do with us, nor we with them. Two
+or three men and a boy live there, I believe, but we don't see much of
+them. They're part French and part Indian. Chandonnais used to live
+with them, and when we came here, he came to us. I guess that's one
+reason why they don't like us, for Chan's a good boy."
+
+"And Margaret?"
+
+Mrs. Mackenzie's face changed. "Poor old thing," she said sadly,
+"no one knows where or how she lives. We are not afraid of her,
+but the Indians are. They wouldn't touch a crazy person under any
+circumstances."
+
+"Is there a regular Indian settlement here?"
+
+"Yes, there are wigwams all along the river. They are all
+Pottawattomies and very friendly. The Chippewa and Winnebago tribes
+are farther north. John has a gift for dealing with the Indians. He
+has learned their language and their ways, and they treat him as if he
+were one of them. Did George show you the Fort this morning?"
+
+"Most of it," smiled Forsyth. "We called on the commissioned officers
+and that young giant ate a hearty breakfast at each place."
+
+"He is the life of the settlement, and I don't know what we'd do
+without him. I never saw anybody with such an inexhaustible fund of
+good spirits. Nothing is so bad that George can't get a joke out of it
+and make us laugh in spite of our trouble. Did you see Doctor Norton?"
+
+"Yes, but only for a moment."
+
+"He's jolly too, and very good to all of us."
+
+"I forgot to tell you when I first came in," said Robert, "but I met
+Mrs. Howard and she asked me to tell you that she was coming over to
+see you this afternoon."
+
+"Bless her heart," said Mrs. Mackenzie, tenderly, "she never forgets
+her old mother."
+
+"You'll never be old, Aunt Eleanor. I believe you have found the
+fountain of eternal youth."
+
+"What, another flatterer?" she asked, but the heightened colour in her
+cheeks showed that she was pleased.
+
+During the afternoon, while Johnny struggled manfully with digits and
+addition, Robert saw Mrs. Howard coming across the river. She was a
+fair, tall woman, very blonde, with eyes like her mother's. The Doctor
+stood at the entrance of the stockade, watching her, with something
+akin to wistfulness in his attitude.
+
+"Poor soul," thought Robert, "I expect he's lonesome."
+
+The afternoon sun stole into the room, marking out patches of light
+upon the rag carpet which covered the floor, and touched the rude logs
+kindly as if to gild, rather than to reveal. In the next room women's
+voices sounded, indistinct, but pleasant, with here and there a low,
+musical laugh, and the teacher fell to dreaming.
+
+"How many are two and two, Cousin Rob?" Johnny asked, for the third
+time.
+
+"Four--don't you remember? You learned that this morning."
+
+"Can I go now? I want to see my sister."
+
+"Yes, run along."
+
+The patter of feet died away in the distance, but Robert still looked
+out upon the river with a smile upon his face. Presently he saw Mrs.
+Howard going toward the Fort, with two of the children capering along
+beside her. Something stirred in the dreamer's pulses, indefinite,
+but none the less real. What man can place it, or knows it when it
+comes--that first vague longing for a home of his own?
+
+The minutes went by and the light faded until the blood-red sunset
+fired the Fort and stained the snowy reaches beyond. A door opened, a
+kettle sang, and some one came in.
+
+"Asleep, dear?"
+
+"No, Aunt Eleanor." He went to her, put his arm around her, and
+touched her cheek lightly with his lips. "I was only thinking that my
+lines have fallen in pleasant places."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE SECOND IN COMMAND
+
+
+"Kit," said the Lieutenant, pacing back and forth moodily, "I wish I
+were in command."
+
+"I wish so, too, dear," responded Mrs. Howard, dutifully.
+
+"Anybody with half an eye can see what is going to happen here, if
+there isn't a change."
+
+"What change do you mean, Ralph?"
+
+"Any kind of a change," he snapped angrily. "We've got a figure-head
+for a Captain and the men haven't the faintest idea of military
+training. There's no reason for postponing drill on account of bad
+weather--the men haven't been out for over a week now, just because
+it's cold. The Captain sits by his fire, studying tactics and making
+out imaginary reports, while his men are suffering for discipline--and
+clothes," he added as an afterthought.
+
+"What can Captain Franklin do about their clothes?"
+
+"What can he do? Nothing, it seems; but I could. I'd send a man to
+President Madison himself, if there was no other way. Look at us! We
+look like Washington's army at Valley Forge!"
+
+The Lieutenant brushed away an imaginary speck on a very shabby
+uniform. "I'm sorry I entered the army," he went on. "Look at this
+post, on the edge of nowhere, with about forty men to defend it. I
+doubt if we have more than thirty in good fighting trim--the rest
+are worse than useless. All around us are hordes of hostile savages,
+ready to attack any or all of us on the slightest provocation, and we
+cannot make even a display of force! No target practice, for fear of
+wasting ammunition; no drill, because the Captain is lazy; clothes
+like beggars--idleness, inaction, sloth! Three six-pounders and thirty
+men, against thousands of bloodthirsty beasts! Things were different
+at Fort Wayne!"
+
+"Ralph," said Mrs. Howard, quickly, "please don't say that to me
+again. I have told you twenty times how sorry I am that I asked you
+to arrange to be transferred. I tell you once more that we will go
+wherever and whenever you please, to Fort Wayne, Detroit, or even
+Fort Mackinac. If there is an army post in the United States where
+things are run to suit you, please get a transfer to it. You will hear
+no complaints from me. I wanted to be near my mother--that was all."
+
+"Was that all?" he sneered. "I have thought otherwise. You talk like a
+fool, Kit. You seem to think it's the simplest thing in the world to
+get a transfer. Do you expect to see a messenger ride in at the gate,
+with an order from the War Department, or shall I go over and tell the
+Captain that we leave for Fort Wayne this evening?"
+
+Mrs. Howard moved her lips as if to speak, then thought better of it
+and remained silent. He stood at the window for a long time, with his
+back to her.
+
+"You don't seem very sociable," he said at length, "so I guess I'll go
+out for a bit, especially as I see your friend coming. I never like
+to intrude." With this parting fling, he left the house, carefully
+avoiding Doctor Norton, who was crossing the parade-ground.
+
+From where she sat, Mrs. Howard could see her husband, erect and
+soldierly, making his way to the offices. During the first two years
+of their married life, she had been very happy, but since they came
+to live at Fort Dearborn, he had been subject to occasional outbursts
+of temper which distressed her greatly.
+
+Her face, always expressive, was white and troubled when she opened
+the door for the Doctor. He understood--he always did. He was one of
+the few men who are not dense in their comprehension of womankind.
+
+They talked commonplaces for a little while, then he leaned forward
+and took her cold hand in his.
+
+"Something has bothered you," he said kindly. "Tell me and let me help
+you."
+
+"You couldn't help me," she answered sadly; "nobody can."
+
+Doctor Norton was not more than thirty-five, but his hair was
+prematurely grey, and this, together with his kindly manner, often
+impelled his patients to make unprofessional confidences. Like many
+another woman, too, Mrs. Howard was strong in the face of opposition,
+but weak at the touch of sympathy.
+
+"It's nothing," she said. "Ralph is cross nearly all the time, though
+I don't believe he means to be. He has been that way ever since--ever
+since the baby died."
+
+She turned her face away, for the little grave in the hollow pulled
+piteously at the mother's heartstrings when the world went wrong.
+
+"He has always blamed me for that," she went on. "One of the reasons
+why I wanted to live here, instead of at Fort Wayne, was that I might
+have my mother to help me take care of the baby. She knew more than I
+did; was wiser and more experienced in every way, and I thought the
+little lad would have a better chance. Instead, as you know, he took
+cold on the way here and did not get well, so his father has never
+forgiven me."
+
+The tears came fast and her white lips quivered. "Don't, Katherine,"
+he said. It was the first time he had called her by name, and she
+noted it, vaguely, in the midst of her suffering.
+
+"Don't, Katherine," he repeated. "All we can do in this world is the
+thing that seems to us the best. We have no concern with the results,
+except as a guide for the future, and sometimes, years afterward, we
+see that what seemed like a bitter loss in reality was gain. Some day
+you may be glad that you lost your boy."
+
+"Glad? Glad I have lost my only child? Doctor, what are you thinking
+of!"
+
+"Of you. Whatever troubles you troubles me, also. You know that, don't
+you?"
+
+For an instant she was frightened, but his calm friendliness
+reassured her. "Thank you," she returned, "you have always been good
+to me."
+
+"I shall always try to be. Nothing that comes to you is without
+meaning for me, and you will always have at least one friend." There
+was an eloquent silence, then the tension of the moment snapped, and
+he released her hand.
+
+"I'm silly," she laughed hysterically, wiping her eyes. "Have you any
+medicine for silliness?"
+
+"If I had, I should keep it for those who need it worse than you do. I
+wish you would go outdoors more. Walk on the parade-ground and across
+to your mother's,--those two places are certainly safe,--and when you
+get tired of that, go over to Mrs. Franklin's. She's a nice little
+woman and she needs cheering up, too. I have a suspicion, Mrs. Howard,
+that the temperament which urges a man to be a soldier is very seldom
+elastic enough to include the domestic hearth."
+
+Katherine's face brightened, for she had not thought of that, and
+the suggestion that others had the same trouble was not without its
+dubious consolation.
+
+For an hour or more he talked to her, telling her bits of news from
+the barracks which he thought would interest her, and offering
+fragments of philosophy as the occasion permitted.
+
+"You're a tonic," she said lightly, as he rose to go; "the blues are
+all gone."
+
+"I'm glad of that. Now remember, when anything goes wrong, tell me.
+Perhaps I can help you--at least I can try."
+
+Half-way across the parade-ground he turned back to smile at her as
+she stood at the window, and she waved a friendly hand in response.
+It was at this unlucky moment that the Lieutenant left the offices,
+having had high words with the Captain about the condition of the
+garrison and the possibility of a war with England.
+
+She was vaguely uneasy when he went out of his way to meet the Doctor,
+but, though he spoke to him, he paused for scarcely an instant in his
+rapid stride. He was pleasant enough when he came into the house, and
+she thought that all was well.
+
+He made no reference to their earlier conversation, but talked easily
+and indifferently, with a mild desire to please, as is the way of a
+man who is ashamed of himself.
+
+"Wouldn't you like to go across the river?" he asked.
+
+"Why, yes," she replied wonderingly, "I don't mind."
+
+"Come on, then."
+
+His dark, handsome face was still pale, and the lines of weakness were
+distinct around his mouth, but Katherine's heart, leaping to meet its
+desire, turned newly toward him, as a flower lifts its face to the sun.
+
+"Poor boy," she said affectionately, putting her hand on his arm, "you
+have lots of things to bother you, don't you?"
+
+"That I do, Kit. I suppose you think I'm a brute sometimes."
+
+"No, indeed," she answered, generously.
+
+"You've been hard to get on with lately," he observed.
+
+"Have I, dear?" She was surprised and conscience-stricken; the more so
+because the possibility had not occurred to her. "I'm sorry," she said
+after a little. "I'll try to do better."
+
+"I don't think it's altogether your fault," he rejoined. "I've noticed
+that you get cranky after Norton has been to the house, and I think he
+has a bad influence over you." The Lieutenant tried to speak jauntily,
+and failed.
+
+"So, naturally," he continued, clearing his throat, "I've done as any
+other man in my position would do. I've told him not to come unless
+he's asked in his professional capacity, and to make those visits when
+I'm at home."
+
+"Ralph!" It was the cry of a hurt child, and every vestige of colour
+fled from Katherine's face. She pressed her hands to her breast and
+leaned against the stockade at the entrance to the Fort.
+
+"Well?" he asked ironically, "have I broken your heart?"
+
+"To think," she said slowly, "that you could be so discourteous to any
+one, and especially to a friend who has been so kind to us as Doctor
+Norton. I'm ashamed of you."
+
+"Your actions, Katherine, only prove that I have taken the right
+course. If I had any doubt before, I am certain now. You will oblige
+me by avoiding him as much as possible."
+
+He never called her "Katherine" unless he was very much displeased
+with her, and they crossed the river without speaking. Howard hummed a
+popular air to himself, with apparent unconcern.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At Mackenzies', all was bustle and confusion. Indians hurried in and
+out of the house, talking and gesticulating excitedly. The snow on
+the path was worn as smooth as ice and Chandonnais was running to the
+Agency building on the other side of the river.
+
+"What is it?" asked Katherine.
+
+"Dunno," said the Lieutenant, laconically.
+
+When they entered, John Mackenzie was, as he expressed it, "pretty
+nigh beat out." Robert had dismissed school, and was helping him as
+best he could, though he was heavily handicapped at the start by his
+ignorance of values and of the Indian tongue.
+
+The space behind the counters was heaped high with furs. Deer hide and
+moose leather, grey wolf, red and silver fox, muskrat, beaver and bear
+skins were stacked waist deep around Forsyth and Mackenzie. Unwonted
+activity was in the air, and the place was full of odorous Indians.
+
+Black Partridge came in, bringing the skin of a gigantic black bear,
+and a murmur ran through the room. Members of other tribes fingered it
+enviously, and the Pottawattomie squaws openly boasted the prowess of
+their chief.
+
+Chandonnais came in from the Agency, with a huge ham under either
+arm. He went back, laden with peltries, and when he returned, he was
+rolling a fresh barrel of flour before him. His face was set in an
+expression of extreme displeasure, for he was constitutionally opposed
+to work.
+
+"Can I help?" asked Lieutenant Howard.
+
+"Wish you'd go over to the Agency, Ralph," replied Mackenzie, "and
+bring over as many blankets as you can carry. Chan will go with
+you--he's got to bring more bacon."
+
+Mrs. Howard had long since retreated to the living-room. The door was
+closed, but the tumult of the trading station resounded afar.
+
+"Be careful, Rob," said Mackenzie, "that's a sheep skin dyed with
+walnut juice. He tried it on you 'cause you're green." Turning to the
+Indian, the trader spoke volubly, even after the would-be cheat had
+grabbed his sheep skin and started for the door.
+
+"This jawbreaker talk is tellin' on me," Mackenzie resumed. "This is
+the first time they've ever come on me all at once this way. Mighty
+sudden, I take it. It's early, too. Usually they do their tradin' on
+the Q.T., one and two at a time, weeks before. They say this is the
+last day of Winter and that to-morrow will be Spring."
+
+Chandonnais and the Lieutenant returned, laden with bacon and
+blankets. The half-breed wiped the sweat from his swarthy face with a
+very dirty sleeve, and Howard made no further offers of assistance.
+Instead, he went over to Forsyth, and began to talk with him.
+
+"What's going on?" asked Robert, "do you know?"
+
+Ralph shrugged his shoulders. "They haven't taken me into their
+confidence," he replied, "but I suppose it's the annual pilgrimage."
+
+"Where? What for?"
+
+"Didn't Father John tell you? Every year they go up into Canada to get
+their presents from the British. Damn the British!" he added, with
+unnecessary emphasis.
+
+"Oh," said Robert, thoughtfully. "In case of trouble, then, the
+Indians are on their side."
+
+"Exactly. Quite a scheme, isn't it?"
+
+"It's a devilish scheme!"
+
+"Be careful," warned Mackenzie, "some of 'em understand more English
+than they let on."
+
+The trading fever rapidly spread to the squaws. Those who were not
+bringing furs for exchange and carrying provisions back to the camp
+offered moccasins and baskets for sale. Mackenzie shook his head--he
+had no use for anything but the skins.
+
+Under cover of the excitement, much petty thieving was going on, and
+it was necessary to keep close watch of the peltries, lest they be
+exchanged again. The squaws kept keen eyes on the counters, making off
+with anything desirable which was left unguarded. Chandonnais took a
+place at the door, finally, to call a halt upon illegal enterprises.
+
+Without the least knowledge of why he did it, Robert bought a pair of
+moccasins. They were small, even for a woman's foot, and heavy with
+beads. The dainty things appealed to him, suddenly and irresistibly,
+and the price he paid for them brought other squaws, with countless
+moccasins.
+
+"Uncle John," he shouted above the clamour, "please tell them I don't
+want any more moccasins!"
+
+A few rapid words from Shaw-ne-aw-kee had the desired effect. "Don't
+see what you want of those things," he observed; "they won't fit
+anybody."
+
+"Pretty things," remarked Howard, sauntering up. "Whom are they for?"
+
+"I--I--that is, I don't know," stammered Robert. "I just wanted them."
+
+The Lieutenant laughed. "Oh, I see," he said. "Another case of
+Cinderella's slipper?"
+
+"Yes, we'll let it go at that," returned Forsyth. He had regained his
+self-possession, but the colour still bronzed his cheeks.
+
+When every possible exchange had been made, and every Indian had
+been given a small additional present, the room became quiet again.
+Black Partridge received a small silver ornament which Mackenzie had
+made for him during the long winter evenings, with manifestations of
+delight and gratitude.
+
+"What's he saying, Uncle?" asked Robert.
+
+"He's swearing eternal friendship for me and mine."
+
+"Much good that does," said Howard, nonchalantly. "I'd trust a dead
+Indian a damn sight sooner 'n a live one."
+
+Black Partridge may have caught the gist of what had been said, but he
+repeated his expressions of gratitude and his assurances of continued
+esteem. The room, by contrast, was very silent after he went out.
+
+"Lord!" sighed the trader. "What a day!"
+
+Mrs. Mackenzie's voice sounded clearly in the next room. "Yes, dear,"
+she said, "I'll tell him, and I'll explain it all. Don't you fret one
+mite about it." Then the door opened and Mrs. Howard came in.
+
+She talked with Forsyth for a few minutes, then turned to her husband.
+"Shall we go home?" she asked, "or do you want to stay here for
+supper?"
+
+"Better stay," suggested Mackenzie, hospitably.
+
+"No, we'll go," said Ralph. "Good-bye, everybody."
+
+Neither spoke until they entered their own house again, then Katherine
+put her hands on his shoulders and looked straight into his eyes.
+"Ralph," she said, seriously, "can't you trust me?"
+
+"I hope so," he returned, drawing away from her, "and as I've fixed it
+now, I think I can."
+
+"Ralph!" she cried, "you hurt me!"
+
+"Look here," he exclaimed roughly, "I don't want any more of this. I
+have trouble enough without your pitching into me all the time. This
+is my house and you are my wife--please remember that."
+
+"There's no danger of my forgetting it," she answered hotly.
+
+"Come, Kit, do be reasonable. I don't want to quarrel."
+
+She smiled cynically and bit her lips to keep back the retort that
+struggled for utterance. "Whatever you do," her mother had said to
+her, "don't quarrel with your husband. It takes two to make a quarrel."
+
+Later, a semblance of peace was restored, but long after the
+Lieutenant was asleep, Katherine lay, wide-eyed and troubled, with
+bitterness surging in her heart.
+
+From the window of her room she saw the late moon when it rose from
+the lake, and soon afterward the clock struck three. Then a ghostly
+pageant passed the Fort. Black Partridge was ahead--she knew his
+stately figure in spite of the blanket in which he was enshrouded.
+Behind him came more Indians than she had ever seen at one time,
+silently, in single file.
+
+The squaws brought up the rear, laden with baggage. The last one was
+heavily burdened and was far behind. As she straggled along, the pale
+moonlight revealed something strange upon her head and Katherine
+recognised her own discarded summer hat of two seasons past. The
+implied comparison made her laugh in a way which was not good to
+hear--but no one heard.
+
+Across the river another watcher was taking note of the departure
+of the Pottawattomies, for Robert had found it impossible to sleep.
+Physically, he was too tired to rest, and his mind was unusually
+active. The dainty moccasins hung on the wall of his room and
+something obtrusively feminine in their presence was, in a way,
+disturbing, but not altogether unpleasant.
+
+The young man was somewhat given to analysis and introspection, and
+had endeavoured, unsuccessfully, to solve the freakish impulse which
+led him to buy moccasins too small for any woman he knew. Further
+questioning of self brought out the astounding fact that he would not
+give moccasins to any woman he had ever met, even though these might
+fit her.
+
+The Indians passing the Fort were a welcome diversion, and he, too,
+laughed at the one who followed the procession with more than her
+share of baggage, but he missed the fine point in the matter of
+millinery. "She looks like the one I bought them of," he said to
+himself, "but I won't be sure."
+
+The moon faded and grey dawn came up out of the inland sea. A ribbon
+of light lay across the Fort and the pulses of the river stirred
+beneath the ice. The blood came to his heart like the sap mounting in
+the maples, and he felt a sudden uplift of soul. A bluebird paused
+over the river for an instant, the crimson of its breast strangely
+luminous against the sky, then from a distant thicket came the first
+robin's cheery call, and he knew the Indians were right--that it was
+Spring.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+RONALD'S VIEWS OF MARRIAGE
+
+
+Mrs. Howard was trying to sew, but seemed to lack the necessary
+energy. The Lieutenant paced the room in his favourite attitude--hands
+crossed behind his back--and gave her his views upon various topics,
+from the mistakes of the War Department at Washington to the criminal
+mismanagement of Captain Franklin. He became so interested in this
+last subject that he spoke as if addressing a large audience, happily
+unmindful of the fact that his single listener was preoccupied.
+
+"Upon my word, Kit," he was saying, "there isn't a man in barracks who
+wouldn't make a better Captain than the one we've got."
+
+"His wife is coming," remarked Katherine, impersonally.
+
+"I don't care if she is. Somebody ought to tell him where he stands in
+the estimation of the officers and men."
+
+His disapproval of his superior officer was reflected in his cool
+response to Mrs. Franklin's cheery greeting when she came in with her
+sewing. "I've got something for you," she said to Katherine; "guess
+what it is!"
+
+"I couldn't guess--what is it?"
+
+"A letter," she answered brightly, "from Doctor Norton! You aren't
+jealous, are you?" she asked playfully, turning to the Lieutenant.
+
+He made no reply, but gnawed his mustache nervously. Katherine's face
+blanched as she took the note and tore it open with trembling hands.
+
+There was neither date, address, nor signature. "I understand," it
+began, "and everything is all right. I beg of you, do not distress
+yourself about me, and, if I can ever serve you in any way, command
+me."
+
+The words danced before her eyes as the Lieutenant approached and held
+out his hand, silently, for the letter.
+
+"It's nothing that would interest you, dear," she said, tearing it
+straight across.
+
+"Pardon me, I think it would." He quickly possessed himself of the
+note and fitted the two parts of the page together, laughing as he did
+so. Only Katherine noticed that his voice shook.
+
+"If you're through with it, I'll burn it," he said quietly, after
+what seemed an age. Without waiting for an answer, he threw it into
+the open fire and hurriedly left the house. Then something dawned on
+Mrs. Franklin.
+
+"Kit," she cried, "can you ever forgive me?"
+
+"What did you think?" retorted Katherine, fiercely. "Would he have
+sent a note to me if he had meant it for my husband? Why didn't he
+come over instead of writing?"
+
+"I don't know," murmured Mrs. Franklin. For the moment she was afraid,
+and as the inevitable surmise forced itself into her consciousness,
+she gazed at Katherine, horror-stricken and dumb.
+
+"I know what you're thinking," said Mrs. Howard, with forced calmness.
+"It's very charitable of you, but I'm glad to be able to tell you that
+you're mistaken."
+
+"You poor child!" exclaimed the Captain's wife. She slipped a friendly
+hand into Katherine's cold one and was not surprised when the
+overwrought nerves sought relief in tears.
+
+Little by little, Katherine made a full explanation. "It's too small
+and too silly to talk about," she sighed, "but I haven't been well
+lately and the slightest thing will worry me almost past endurance.
+I don't know what's the matter with Ralph--he is not at all like
+himself, and that troubles me, too."
+
+"Funny," observed Mrs. Franklin, irrelevantly.
+
+"What's funny?"
+
+"Men in general and husbands in particular. Wallace isn't inclined to
+be jealous, so I've never had that to bother me, but he's as stubborn
+as a mule, and I guess that's just as bad. Anyhow, I'd like to trade
+his stubbornness for something else. I'd appreciate the change for a
+little while, no matter what it was."
+
+"I wouldn't mind that," said Katherine, with the ghost of a smile
+hovering around her white lips. "I think I could get along better with
+a stubborn man than I can with a savage."
+
+"Be careful what you say about savages," put in the other, lightly;
+"you know my aunt is a full-blooded Indian."
+
+"I've often wondered about that. How do you suppose it happened?"
+
+"It is rather queer on the face of it, but it's natural enough, when
+you think it over. You know Captain Wells was stolen by the Indians
+when he was a child and he was brought up like one of them. Even after
+his people found him, he refused to go home, until his two sisters
+came to plead with him. Then he consented to make them a visit,
+but he didn't stay long, and went back to the Indians at the first
+opportunity. Their ways were as impossible to him as his were to them.
+I'm glad he married the chief's daughter, instead of a common squaw.
+He and Little Turtle are great friends."
+
+There was a long silence, then Katherine reverted to the original
+topic. "I never thought of Captain Franklin as stubborn," she said.
+
+"Didn't you? Well, I just wish you could talk to him a while after he
+gets his mind made up. Before that, there's hope, but not afterward;
+and you might just as well go out and speak to the stockade around
+the Fort. He's contrary, too. Yesterday, for instance, he told me he
+thought he'd have drill, as the men hadn't been out for a long time.
+I asked him if some of them weren't sick, and he said they were, but
+it wouldn't hurt the others any. Just then your husband came in and
+suggested drill. 'Haven't thought about it,' says Wallace, turning
+away, and the Lieutenant talked ten minutes before he discovered
+nobody was listening to him. After he went away, George came in and
+asked about drill. 'We won't have it to-day,' said Wallace, and that
+was the end of it."
+
+"Was he like that before you were married?"
+
+"Yes, only not so bad. I mistook his determined siege for
+inability to live without me, but I see now that it was principally
+stubbornness. He made up his mind to get me, and here I am. He gets
+worse as he grows older--more 'sot' in his ways, as your mother would
+say. I don't see how anybody can be that way. He explained it to me
+once, when we were first married, but I couldn't understand it."
+
+"How did he explain it?"
+
+"Well, as nearly as I can remember, he said that he dreaded to have
+his mind begin making itself up. It's like a runaway horse that you
+can't stop. He said he might see that he was wrong and he might want
+to do differently, but something inside of him wouldn't let him. It
+seems that his mind suddenly crystallises, and then it's over. A
+crystal can be broken, but it can't be made liquid again."
+
+"Is his mind liquid?" inquired Katherine, choked with laughter.
+
+"No--I wish it was. I'm glad you're amused, but I'm too close to it to
+see the fun in it. Wasn't your husband ever stubborn?"
+
+"No; I don't think so--at least, I don't remember. I suppose he can't
+help being jealous any more than the Captain can help being mulish. I
+guess they're just born so."
+
+"Marked," suggested Mrs. Franklin.
+
+"Yes--marked. I hadn't thought of that. Before we were married, Ralph
+was jealous of everybody who spoke to me--man, woman, or brute. I
+couldn't even pet the cat or talk to the dog."
+
+"Matrimonial traits," observed the Captain's wife, sagely, "are the
+result of pre-nuptial tendencies. If you look carefully into the
+subject before you're married, you can see about what you're coming
+to."
+
+"I guess that's right. I needn't have expected marriage to cure Ralph
+of jealousy, but, like you, I supposed it was love."
+
+"My dear," said Mrs. Franklin, with feeling, "many a woman mistakes
+the flaws in a man's character for the ravages of the tender
+passion--before marriage."
+
+"Well, I never!" said a soft voice behind them. "Kitty and Mamie
+talking scandal!"
+
+Both women jumped.
+
+"How did you get in?" demanded Mrs. Howard.
+
+"Came in," replied Ronald, laconically.
+
+"Don't you know enough to rap?" asked Mrs. Franklin, angrily. Like
+others who have been christened "Mary," she was irritated beyond
+measure at that meaningless perversion of her name.
+
+"Did rap," answered George, selecting the most comfortable chair, "but
+nobody heard me, so I let myself in."
+
+"How dare you call me 'Kitty'?" exclaimed Mrs. Howard.
+
+"Soldiers aren't afraid of anything except the War Department."
+
+"How long have you been here?" they asked simultaneously.
+
+"Don't all speak at once. I've been here a long, long time--so long,
+in fact, that I'm hungry." He looked past them as he spoke and gazed
+pensively out of the window.
+
+Mrs. Franklin's cheeks were blazing and her eyes snapped. "You're the
+very worst man I ever met," she said.
+
+The Ensign sighed heavily. "And yet I've never been accused of
+mulishness," he remarked, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling, "nor of
+jealousy," he added. His mouth was twitching, and the women exchanged
+glances.
+
+"I admit an enormous appetite," he continued. "Wonder if it's the
+ravages of the tender passion?"
+
+Mrs. Howard brought in a plate of cookies and set it ostentatiously
+within his reach. "Lovely woman!" apostrophised George. "She feeds
+me! Radiant vision, will you be mine?"
+
+There was a dead silence.
+
+"Queer, isn't it," observed the guest, between mouthfuls, and
+apparently to himself, "that women should look so pretty when they're
+mad?"
+
+"Your wife will be pretty all the time, then," said Mrs. Franklin.
+
+"I trust so. She'll have to have a good start at it, or she won't get
+me, and with the additional stimulus which living with me will give
+her, she'll be nearly as lovely as the wives of the other officers at
+Fort Dearborn. I could give her no higher praise. These cookies are
+all gone."
+
+"I know it," replied Mrs. Howard. "I gave you all I had left."
+
+"If I might presume," said Ronald, "I'd like the prescription they
+were made by, to give to my wife, when I get one. I suppose it's more
+in the making than in the prescription, and though I'll undoubtedly
+like 'em, my native love of truth will oblige me to tell her that they
+don't come up to those Kitty--pardon me, Mrs. Howard--used to make for
+me. I always think of you by your first name," he went on. "I know
+it's wrong, but I can't help it. You're so good to me. Isn't there one
+more cooky?"
+
+"No, there isn't."
+
+"Your mother makes surpassing doughnuts. Did she ever teach you how?"
+
+"Oh, yes," responded Mrs. Howard, coolly; "but I don't make them very
+often. I haven't made any for months."
+
+"I have the plan of 'em all written down, in case you should forget
+how. I'm saving it for my wife. Can I go and look in the pantry?"
+
+"No, you cannot."
+
+"Why don't you get married, George?" asked Mrs. Franklin, by way of a
+diversion.
+
+"I've never been asked."
+
+"Didn't you ever ask anybody?"
+
+"Oh, Lord, yes! I've asked every girl I've ever met. Say, do you know
+that I've got so now that I can propose off-hand, as easily as other
+fellows can after they've written it out and learned it? If there was
+a girl here at the Fort who suited me, I'd ask everybody to my wedding
+inside of two weeks."
+
+"Charming diffidence," murmured Katherine.
+
+"Modest soul," commented Mrs. Franklin. "What kind of a girl would
+suit you?"
+
+"I like the domestic variety. The faithful kind, you know. One who
+wouldn't gad all the time. Good cook, and that sort of thing."
+
+"Some Indian girl"--began the Captain's wife.
+
+"I know," interrupted George, pointedly; "that runs in some families,
+but it never has in ours. Wouldn't mind an Indian aunt, maybe, after I
+got used to her; but a mother-in-law--Lord!"
+
+Mrs. Franklin was angry for an instant, then she laughed. It was
+impossible for any one to harbour resentment against Ronald.
+
+"I don't think I could ever love an ordinary girl," that intrepid
+youth resumed, with a dare-devil light in his eyes. "She'd have to
+be very superior. Lots of girls get married without any clear idea
+of what it means. For instance, while I was working day and night,
+trying to earn board and clothes for a woman, I wouldn't like to have
+her trot over to her friend's house to discuss my faults. If that's
+marriage, I won't enlist."
+
+"You haven't any faults," put in the Captain's wife, sweetly. "There
+would be nothing to discuss."
+
+"True, Mamie, I had forgotten that. Thank you for reminding me of my
+perfection. But you know what I mean. As soon as I got out of sight
+of the house, she'd gallop over to her friend's, and her friend would
+say: 'Good-morning, Mrs. Ronald, you don't look fit this morning. What
+has that mean thing done to you now?'"
+
+Throwing himself thoroughly into the part, the Ensign got up and
+proceeded to give an elaborate monologue, in falsetto, punctuated with
+mincing steps and frequent rearrangement of an imaginary coiffure.
+Mrs. Howard clasped her hands at her waist and the tears rolled down
+Mrs. Franklin's cheeks.
+
+"And then she'd say," Ronald went on, "'Just suppose you had to live
+with a mulish, jealous man who wouldn't give you more than nine
+dresses and eleven bonnets and four pairs of shoes. Yes, that's just
+what the horrid thing has done. And this morning, when I asked for
+money to get a few clothes, so I could look more respectable, he gave
+me some, but I caught him keeping back fifty-two cents. Now, what do
+you think of that? Do you suppose he's going to take a lot of men out
+and get 'em all drunk?'"
+
+The entrance of Captain Franklin put an end to the inspired portrayal
+of wifely devotion. As Katherine had said, he did not look stubborn.
+On the contrary, he seemed to be the mildest sort of a man, for he
+was quiet and unobtrusive in manner. His skin was very white, and the
+contrast of his jet-black hair and mustache made him look pale.
+
+"Did you tell them the news?" he asked Ronald.
+
+"'Pon my word, Captain, I haven't had time. They've been chattering so
+ever since I came in that I'm nearly deaf with it. You tell 'em."
+
+"I don't know as you'd call it news," said the Captain; "but we can't
+afford to ignore any incident out here. A Kickapoo runner has come
+in from the Illinois River, and he says the pack-trains are about to
+start from there and from the Kankakee, and that they will be here
+soon."
+
+"It's an early Spring," remarked Mrs. Franklin.
+
+"I'm glad," said Katherine; "I love to be outdoors, and the Winters in
+this lonesome little Fort are almost unbearable."
+
+"What?" asked Ronald, "with me here?"
+
+"Drill to-morrow," said the Captain, turning to his subordinate. The
+Ensign saluted gravely, but made no reply.
+
+The Captain lingered a few moments, listening while the others talked.
+"Are you going home, Mary?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, after a while. I'll go now if you want me to."
+
+"No; never mind. I've got some things to see to."
+
+"Now that," observed Ronald, as the Captain closed the door, "is what
+I call a true marriage."
+
+"In what way?" asked Mrs. Franklin.
+
+"This deference to a husband's evident wishes. It might have happened
+to me. Lonesome George comes into the sewing circle and his glad
+eyes rest on the wife of his bosom. Talk to the crowd a little while
+and get everybody to feeling good, even though I'm on the verge of
+starvation. Then I say: 'Darling, are you going back to our humble
+little home?' and she says: 'Yes, George, dear, when I get good and
+ready--bye-bye!'"
+
+Mrs. Franklin was eager to ask Katherine how much of their
+conversation she supposed he had overheard, but he seemed very
+comfortable where he was, and at last she folded up her work and went
+home, the Ensign bidding her an affectionate farewell at the door and
+extending a generous invitation to "come again."
+
+"There, Kitty," he sighed, "at last we are alone. It has seemed so
+long!"
+
+Katherine turned upon him a look which would have frozen a lesser man
+than Ronald. "Please call me Mrs. Howard," she requested, icily.
+
+"I can't."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Well, some way, it makes me feel as if you were married, and I can't
+stand it to be constantly reminded of my loss. 'Mrs. Lieutenant' is
+better, 'cause I'm a lieutenant, in a way, myself, but it's too long.
+I suppose I can say 'Mrs. Loot,' if you insist upon formality. I came
+to you with a message, and that is why I have braved your unjust
+wrath. Your mother sent me to ask you and your husband to come over to
+supper. I've seen him and he's willing. She's been making doughnuts
+all the afternoon, and I think there's a pie or two, so get your
+bonnet and come along."
+
+"Come along!" repeated Katherine.
+
+"Yes, come along. I'm going, too."
+
+"Does she know it?"
+
+"I think she suspects it. If she doesn't, the pleasure will have the
+additional charm of a surprise. There's the Lieutenant now. We'll all
+go together."
+
+They met on the parade-ground and she put her hand on her husband's
+arm timidly, but he did not draw away from her as she had feared he
+would, and she became intuitively conscious that he had determined to
+say nothing about the unlucky note.
+
+The sun shone brightly and the March wind swept the cobwebs from her
+mental vision. Ralph said very little; but Ronald, who never required
+the encouragement of an answer, talked unceasingly, and it seemed to
+Katherine that the world was sunny and full of friends.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE FIRST FLOWER OF SPRING
+
+
+There was a report like a pistol shot from the ice in the river,
+followed by others at short intervals. "That means for us to get out
+the boats," said Mackenzie to Chandonnais.
+
+Only one of the boats stored in the trader's barn was worthy of the
+name. It was a large bateau, capable of accommodating a dozen people
+and a small amount of baggage. The others were pirogues, or logs
+trimmed at the ends and hollowed out in the centre. One person might
+be negatively comfortable, but two crowded the small craft to the
+danger-point.
+
+A pirogue furnished the ordinary means of communication with the Fort,
+and two or three were fastened to a sapling on the other side of the
+stream. There was also a good boat, belonging to the Fort, which would
+hold five or six people. The bateau was used for carrying freight
+between the Fort, the Agency House, and Mackenzie's.
+
+The river was a narrow, deep, weedy channel, with a very slight fall,
+and a large sand-bar stretched across the mouth of it. In Summer, one
+could stand at the end of the broad piazza in front of the house and
+see the Indians in their light canoes pass the sand-bar at will, go
+down into the lake, and return up-stream.
+
+Gradually the river filled with great masses of ice, which moved
+lazily in a circle at the whim of some concealed current, or drifted
+gently toward the mouth of the stream. For several days there was no
+communication with the Fort; then Mackenzie broke the ice-jam at the
+bar, and by the middle of March a boat could easily cross.
+
+Seemingly by preconcerted arrangement, the pack-trains arrived during
+the last week of March. Twenty horses came from the Illinois and
+Kankakee districts, and seventeen from the Rock River, loaded with
+skins. For a year the Indians in the Mississippi valley had exchanged
+peltries for provisions, beads, and liquor. Five Canadian _engagés_,
+with rude camping outfits strapped to their backs, walked in leisurely
+fashion beside the horses.
+
+The skins were stored in the Agency House, awaiting the schooner from
+the American Fur Company at Fort Mackinac. The horses were tethered
+on the plains near the Fort, and business was carried on there, except
+at meal-time, when eight hungry men and four children taxed Mrs.
+Mackenzie's strength to the utmost.
+
+Three days later the schooner was sighted, bearing down from the
+north, and, as it was practically the only event of the year, the
+settlement went in force to the lake shore to see it come in. A
+corporal's guard, bitterly complaining, was left at the Fort.
+
+With the wind filling her sails, the ship steered south-west until she
+reached a point exactly opposite the mouth of the river, then turned
+swiftly, like a bird, and came toward the cheering crowd on shore. The
+waves broke in foam upon her keel, and amid the shouts of command and
+welcome and the clatter of the rigging, came the song of a _voyageur_,
+in a clear, high tenor, which won a separate recognition.
+
+"More men to feed," sighed Mrs. Mackenzie.
+
+"Never mind, Aunt Eleanor," said Forsyth, "I'm going to help you."
+
+"Me, too! Me, too!" cried the children.
+
+Mrs. Howard and Mrs. Franklin promptly offered their services, and
+Ronald put an affectionate arm about her waist. "Don't bother, Aunt
+Eleanor," he said; "you've got me."
+
+Forsyth was surprised at the speech, and still more astonished when
+the Ensign made it good during the hard days that followed. He tied a
+big blue apron under his arms, unmindful of its ridiculous flapping
+about his knees, set his cap on the back of his head, rolled up his
+sleeves, and announced that he was ready for work. Forsyth helped
+him split wood, bring water, make fires, and wash dishes until his
+head swam with weariness; but through it all, Ronald was serene and
+untroubled, keeping up a cheery whistle and a fusillade of comment and
+observation which lightened the situation exceedingly.
+
+Mrs. Mackenzie found herself taking orders from the young soldier who
+was the self-constituted master of the cuisine, and learned to obey
+without question, even when she was sent to her easy-chair early in
+the morning and kept there during the greater part of the day.
+
+Mrs. Howard and Mrs. Franklin were unceremoniously put out. "Kitty
+and Mamie," pleaded the Ensign, in an aggravating falsetto, "will you
+please run home? Your mother has enough to feed without your trotting
+in to meals." He accompanied the request with a threatening wave of a
+spoon filled with pancake batter, which had the desired effect.
+
+"There," he said, "I've finally chased 'em out. I do hate to have
+women bothering around me, don't you, Rob?"
+
+"I've never been bothered," laughed Forsyth; "at least, not in that
+way."
+
+Swiftly upon the heels of the schooner came the boats from Milwaukee.
+The cargoes were landed on the lake shore and taken to the Agency
+by the pack-horses. All day the patient beasts plodded to and fro,
+carrying furs to the shore, and provisions, blankets, calicoes,
+prints, and a thousand other things to the storehouse. The small boats
+from the ship plied back and forth, landing the cargo and taking back
+peltries, and the men worked from sunrise to sunset.
+
+An unusual amount of friction developed between the several _engagés_
+and _voyageurs_, and various disputes were settled on the spot with
+bare fists. Chandonnais had a rare talent for getting into trouble,
+and few indeed were the fights in which he did not eventually take a
+leading part.
+
+"Chan," said Mackenzie, at length, "you ain't paid to fight, but to
+work; and if there's any more of this I'll send you to one of the
+other posts." This threat was always effectual, for some reason which
+the trader did not seek to know.
+
+At last the tired horses finished their task and every skin was in the
+hold of the schooner. The Agency House was filled to bursting with the
+materials of trade, and a small but precious horde of gold pieces,
+representing the balance in his favour, was hidden in Mackenzie's
+leather belt.
+
+There was a day of rest for everybody except Mrs. Mackenzie and her
+assistants; then Chandonnais surprised the trader by a demand for his
+year's wages.
+
+"Why, Chan!" exclaimed Mackenzie, "don't you want me to keep it for
+you as I've been a-doing?"
+
+The half-breed shook his head sullenly.
+
+"Well, it's yours, and you can do just as you please with it, but I
+guess you'll be sorry for it later. Mind, now, this is all till next
+year--you don't get any advance."
+
+Chan agreed, and Mackenzie called Robert to witness the transaction.
+Five shining ten-dollar gold pieces were counted out into a grimy paw
+that closed upon them quickly, as if in fear.
+
+"Fifty dollars and found," Mackenzie explained to Robert as
+Chandonnais went away. "I don't grudge it neither, for he's a good boy
+when he ain't fighting."
+
+The schooner was lying by for a favouring wind, and the pack-trains
+were waiting to give the horses a needed rest. Mackenzie had made
+an equitable division of the stores at the Agency, and each of the
+_engagés_ knew exactly what he was to take back with him, and the
+approximate value of each article in terms of peltries. During the day
+liquor flowed freely, and at night there was a barbecue on the lake
+shore.
+
+A young ox was roasted whole, in front of a huge fire which could be
+seen for miles around. Forsyth and the Mackenzies, with their four
+children, and the officers and men from the Fort with their wives and
+families, sat around on the sand and took part in the celebration. A
+single sentinel patrolled the Fort, cursing his luck, and a few stray
+Indians watched the festive scene from afar.
+
+Chandonnais had his violin, and the fine tenor of the _voyageur_ was
+lifted in song--old French _chansons_ and garbled melodies of the day.
+The strings of the fiddle were twanged in delicate accompaniment until
+the singer struck up Yankee Doodle, which, owing to the French accent
+and the peculiar distortion of the tune, was taken by the company as a
+humorous performance.
+
+The men ate hungrily, and at last even Ronald was satisfied. Then
+a sudden thought struck him, and he went over to speak to Captain
+Franklin. "Good-bye, everybody," he shouted.
+
+"Where are you going?" asked Forsyth.
+
+"I'm going back to relieve that poor devil at the Fort."
+
+In spite of a chorus of protests, he went, and the lone sentry
+appeared presently, grinning from ear to ear, to feast and revel while
+his superior officer kept guard with a bayonet over his shoulder. It
+was such trifles as this which endeared Ronald to the soldiers. There
+was not a man in barracks who would not have followed him cheerfully
+to certain death.
+
+The fire died down and some of the men slept peacefully on the sand,
+while others yawned openly. Chandonnais improvised a weird melody
+which was strangely out of keeping. There was something uncanny in the
+air which accorded ill with the festival, and it seemed only fitting
+and proper when Mad Margaret materialised from the outer darkness and
+came into the centre of the group.
+
+A hush came over the company and some of the newcomers, who had heard
+wild tales of Margaret, were secretly afraid. Chandonnais kept on
+playing, and she watched him with wide, wondering eyes. For a long
+time the magic of the strings kept her quiet, then she began to
+mutter to herself uneasily.
+
+"Margaret," said Mackenzie, gently, "come here."
+
+Chandonnais threw down his violin with a gesture of impatience,
+beckoned to the singer, and walked away rapidly. The _voyageur_ rose
+lazily, yawned, and followed him with seeming indifference.
+
+Margaret's eyes were shining like the live coals which gleamed in the
+ashes. She leaned forward and picked up the violin, stroking it and
+crooning to it as if it were a child.
+
+"Margaret," said Mackenzie again, "come here."
+
+She went to him with a dog-like, unquestioning obedience, and sat down
+in front of him. Mrs. Mackenzie was next to her husband, with the baby
+in her lap, and Mrs. Howard sat on her mother's left. The Lieutenant
+was talking with Forsyth and the Captain, and at a little distance, on
+Mackenzie's right, sat Doctor Norton.
+
+A sharp cry came from the violin, where Margaret's fingers tightened
+on the strings. "I see blood," she said,--"much blood, then fire, and
+afterward peace."
+
+No one spoke, and Margaret mumbled to herself, then pounced upon
+Katherine. She took her by the shoulders and shook her roughly. "You
+will have your heart's desire," she cried, "at the time of the blood,
+but sorrow will come with it!"
+
+Before any one else had time to move, Doctor Norton caught Margaret
+and pulled her away.
+
+"Oh," she shrieked, shaking her fist in his face, "the Red Death has
+its fingers at your throat!"
+
+Mackenzie picked up the violin, found the bow in the darkness, and
+began to play--rudely enough, it is true, but in some semblance of
+rhythm. Margaret quieted almost immediately, and sat down in front of
+him, rocking back and forth in time with the faltering tune.
+
+"Aunt Eleanor," said Forsyth, over her shoulder, "don't you think I'd
+better take the children home?"
+
+"Yes, please, if you will."
+
+She put the sleeping baby into his arms, woke Maria Indiana, and
+directed Ellen and Johnny to go with "Cousin Rob." The procession
+moved slowly, for the baby was heavy, and the other children were
+inclined to linger. Mad Margaret had a terrible fascination for them.
+
+As they passed a grove of cottonwoods, angry voices came from the
+thicket, in a mongrel French which had but little in common with that
+Robert had learned at Yale.
+
+"It is abominable," cried Chandonnais. "It is too much!"
+
+"So?" laughed the other, mockingly; "and only last year you told me
+you would pay the price!"
+
+"A year's wages for a common crucifix!"
+
+"It is no common crucifix. It is of solid silver, and it is from the
+old mission, where it was blessed by Père Marquette himself."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"The good Father told me so. It has been blessed by Père Marquette and
+by all the holy men who have come after him. It will cure disease and
+keep from all harm."
+
+"Well," sighed Chandonnais, "I'll take it."
+
+Robert heard the clink of the half-breed's hard-earned gold, and
+wondered whether he had spent the whole of it for a cross.
+
+The next day the prevailing wind of Summer blew warm and strong
+from the south-west, and the sails of the schooner filled as if in
+anticipation. Robert thought of the hardy Romans in the Æneid, when
+"the breezes called their sails," as once again the people gathered on
+the shore.
+
+Letters and messages to friends at Fort Mackinac, together with many
+trifling gifts, were pressed upon the crew. A long line of foam lay
+upon the turquoise water when out in the sunlit distance the ship
+turned to the north, and hands were waved in farewell long after the
+others had ceased to see. The Mackenzies were glad it was over, even
+though a long year was to pass without communication with the outside
+world, but others were sorry. Chandonnais was non-committal and hummed
+to himself the song of the _voyageur_.
+
+The pack-trains were loaded, the patient horses bending under a
+heavier burden than they had brought; the boats started to Milwaukee
+after all of the _engagés_ had been given another round of liquor,
+and a pack-train followed them north on land. The others, silhouetted
+against the setting sun, went west over the unbroken prairie; the
+drowsy tinkle of the bells died away in a silvery murmur, and peace
+lay on Fort Dearborn.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the end of the week there was a diversion which was entirely
+unexpected--as most real diversions contrive to be. Mrs. Mackenzie
+was in the garden, planting flower seeds, when soft footsteps sounded
+on the bare earth beside her, and a sweet voice said, "How do you do,
+Aunt Eleanor?"
+
+"Why, Beatrice!" exclaimed Mrs. Mackenzie, kissing her warmly. "Where
+did you come from?"
+
+"From Fort Wayne, with Captain Wells--he's across the river. I rowed
+over by myself. I was so afraid you'd see me coming and wouldn't be
+surprised."
+
+"My dear! I'm so glad!"
+
+"Maybe you won't be, when I tell you. I've come to live with you, Aunt
+Eleanor."
+
+"That makes me happier still," said Mrs. Mackenzie, in her stately
+way. "You are welcome."
+
+"Thank you, Aunty; but I haven't come to be a burden to you, and I
+trust I never shall be. If I'm ever a trouble, I want you to tell me
+so and send me away. In the first place, I have fought most terribly
+with my aunt and uncle at Fort Wayne. They don't know I've come."
+
+"Why, my dear! How could you?"
+
+"Oh, they know it now," said Beatrice, laconically, with her head on
+one side. "If they don't, the suspense will do them good. Anyhow, they
+know I'm not there, and that's enough. You know I have a little income
+of my own, Aunty, so I'm not dependent upon any one, and I'm going to
+pay my board. If you won't let me," she continued, warningly, seeing
+disapproval on Mrs. Mackenzie's kindly face, "I'm going back with
+Captain Wells to-morrow, so now!"
+
+"I'll let you do anything you want to, dear, if you'll only stay with
+me. I have needed a grown daughter ever since Katherine was married."
+
+"Then it's all arranged, and I'll stay with you for ever. I know I
+never could fight with you."
+
+"Here comes your uncle."
+
+The trader beamed with delight when Beatrice cast herself upon him and
+kissed him twice. "I've come to live with you," she said, "and I've
+just fixed it with Aunt Eleanor. Captain Wells is over at the Fort
+with the soldiers. We brought ten with us--it was quite an army, and
+the Captain kept up military discipline all along the trail, with me
+for First Lieutenant. They're going to stay at the Fort, and I'm going
+to stay here." She pirouetted around him in high spirits.
+
+"You're welcome, Bee; but how did it happen?"
+
+"I fought," explained Beatrice, carelessly. "They told me what I
+should do and what I shouldn't. Nobody ever says 'must' to me. If you
+ever want me to do anything, you'll have to say 'please.' Would you
+mind going over to the Fort after my things, Uncle? I've got a big box
+with all my worldly goods inside of it."
+
+Mackenzie went, for men always did as Beatrice suggested.
+
+"Come in, dear," said her aunt. "You can have the east room, so you'll
+get the morning sun."
+
+"How sweet you are, Aunt Eleanor," murmured the girl, with her arm
+thrown around the other's shoulders, for she was even taller than Mrs.
+Mackenzie. Her face had the deep, creamy tint which sometimes goes
+with violet eyes and brown hair with auburn lights in it. Beneath a
+short nose, tilted ever so slightly, was the most bewitching mouth in
+the world--small and perfect in shape, dangerously curved, and full of
+a daring coquetry. When she smiled, one saw that her teeth were small
+and white and absolutely even, but soon forgot that minor detail.
+At first glance, no one would have called her pretty; she was like
+something beautiful which must be studied before it is appreciated.
+
+The arrival of the visitor had effectually broken up the school.
+"Tuzzin Bee! Tuzzin Bee!" crowed Maria Indiana, delightedly.
+
+"You darling," cried Beatrice, catching the child in her arms; "have
+you remembered me a whole year?"
+
+Robert was introduced as "a cousin on the other side of the house,"
+and he bent gravely over the girl's hand.
+
+"Are we truly cousins?" she asked.
+
+There was a confused silence, then Robert found his tongue. "I trust
+we are," he said, with the air of a gentleman of the old school, "for
+you are the first flower of Spring."
+
+The door burst open and Ronald entered. "What do you think," he
+shouted; "we've got troops! Captain Wells has brought ten soldiers to
+the Fort!"
+
+"Miss Manning," said Mrs. Mackenzie, "let me present Ensign George
+Ronald, of Fort Dearborn."
+
+Beatrice bowed, but he stared at her for an instant, then brought his
+heels together and raised his hand to his forehead in military salute.
+There was an awkward instant, then the deep crimson dyed the Ensign's
+face. He turned--and bolted.
+
+From the window Beatrice saw him, in a pirogue, pulling back to the
+Fort as if his life depended upon it, then she laughed--a deep, sweet,
+vibrant laugh, that thrilled Robert to the very depths of his soul.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+COUSINS
+
+
+"Aunty," said Beatrice, at breakfast the next morning, "do you think I
+scared him to death?"
+
+"What do you mean, dear?"
+
+"Why, that young man--yesterday. Mr. Ronald is his name, isn't it?"
+
+Mrs. Mackenzie laughed at the memory of the Ensign's scarlet face. "I
+think he'll get over it," she said; "don't you, Rob?"
+
+"I certainly do. He's the last man in the world to be afraid of a
+woman."
+
+"Oh, yes, he'll recover," put in Mackenzie, significantly.
+
+"I think it's lovely here," observed Beatrice, irrelevantly, "and I
+know I'm going to like it."
+
+"We're going to try very hard to make you happy," said Forsyth, with
+evident sincerity.
+
+"I've wanted to live with Aunt Eleanor ever since last Spring, when
+they all came to Fort Wayne. Otherwise, I wouldn't have fought. That
+is, perhaps I wouldn't."
+
+Rising from the table, she went out on the piazza, and Robert
+instinctively followed her. If the long journey on horseback had
+tired her, she showed no sign of it, for she might have been a part
+of the morning as she stood there, smiling, with the sunlight on her
+wind-blown hair.
+
+The heavy brown coil, with auburn lights and black shadows in it, had
+a strange fascination for Forsyth. He liked the way her hair grew
+around her forehead and temples, and the little curl that escaped at
+her neck. She was looking away from him, and he thought her unaware of
+his scrutiny till she said quietly: "Well, how do you like your new
+cousin? Do you think I will do?"
+
+"Yes," he stammered, dimly grateful for the impulse that kept her face
+still turned away; "that is, very much."
+
+"How am I going to get my horse over here," she demanded suddenly.
+
+"What horse?" asked Robert, stupidly.
+
+"The one I rode from Fort Wayne, of course. Did I understand you to
+say you had been to college?"
+
+"Yes; I graduated."
+
+"Really?" Beatrice turned upon him a dazzling smile. "I never should
+have thought it," she added pleasantly.
+
+"Where is your horse?" he asked, crimsoning.
+
+"You don't see it anywhere, do you?"
+
+"N--no."
+
+"Then, obviously, it's at the Fort, isn't it?"
+
+"I--I suppose so."
+
+"Well, then, we're making progress. Now, how do I get it over here?"
+
+"Swim," said Robert, helplessly, at his wit's end.
+
+Beatrice stamped her small foot upon the piazza. "Uncle John," she
+called, "come here! How is Queen coming across the river?" she asked,
+when he appeared.
+
+"Well, now, Bee, I don't know. There's no bridge and no way to go
+around. She'll either have to come in a boat or swim."
+
+Robert flashed a grateful glance at him, but said nothing.
+
+"She won't get into a boat," said Beatrice, with a puzzled little
+frown on her face. "We swam a river together once, but she didn't like
+it, and we both got wet."
+
+"Go down near the bar and come across," suggested Forsyth, having
+partially recovered his self-possession. "It can't be very deep
+there."
+
+"No; but the sand is soft. Better leave her at the Fort, Bee, and
+you can go over there when you want her. It's safer," he added. "The
+Indians might get her out of my barn, but she'll be all right in the
+garrison stables."
+
+"That settles it," replied Beatrice. "Here comes Captain Wells."
+
+An erect, soldierly figure came up the path with the characteristic
+walk of the Indian. His eyes were small and dark, and his face was
+bronzed like the people among whom he had lived; but when he smiled at
+Beatrice and bowed with mock humility, all traces of the savage were
+instantly effaced. He wore the rough garb of the plainsman, and the
+only suggestion of vanity was in the black ribbon that tied his queue.
+
+"Mackenzie," he said, "I warn you. You have a tyrannical
+commander-in-chief."
+
+Beatrice pouted prettily. "I'm sorry for Uncle John," she said; "but
+it's too late to help him now. I've come for keeps."
+
+All the time he was speaking, Captain Wells's piercing glance was
+fixed upon Forsyth, to whom he had just been introduced, but of whom
+he had heard at the Fort, and the young man grew vaguely uncomfortable.
+
+"Your pardon, sir," said Captain Wells. "I fear the manners of the
+prairie seem strange to a gentleman of culture. My only excuse is that
+your face interests me."
+
+"Come on over to the Fort, Cousin Rob," suggested Beatrice, with ready
+tact, "and I'll introduce you to Queen. They don't want us here,
+anyhow."
+
+Together they climbed into the pirogue in which Captain Wells had
+crossed the river, and with some difficulty reached the opposite
+shore. Ronald was standing at the entrance, talking with the sentinel,
+and when he saw them coming he went toward the barracks with more
+haste than dignity. Forsyth laughed, but Beatrice held her head high,
+and a faint flush stole into her cheeks.
+
+"Where are the stables, Cousin Rob?"
+
+"This way."
+
+Robert's involuntary gasp of admiration at the sight of Queen
+instantly placed him high in his fair cousin's favour. "Isn't she a
+beauty?" she asked.
+
+The little black mare whinnied joyously at the approach of her young
+mistress, prancing and curvetting prettily in spite of her halter.
+
+"Poor dear," said Beatrice, "you aren't used to being tied, are you?"
+
+She led the horse out on the parade-ground and exclaimed with
+pleasure at the satin smoothness of the glossy coat. The grooms had
+done their work well and stood around, grinning broadly, while she
+praised them. The mare might have hailed from the blue grass country,
+so perfect were her lines. She was built for speed as well as beauty,
+and the small black hoofs pawed the ground impatiently, as she rubbed
+her velvet nose against her owner's cheek by way of a caress.
+
+"There isn't any sugar, Queen," laughed the girl, "and I just came to
+say good-morning."
+
+"We'll have some rides on the prairie together," said Robert. "My
+horse isn't much, compared with yours, but he used to get along pretty
+well on the roads back East."
+
+"Aren't there any roads here?"
+
+"I haven't discovered any, but the prairie isn't bad."
+
+"Come on out now," said Beatrice, "and I'll show you what she can do."
+
+As they passed the barracks, Robert was dimly aware of Ronald's
+scrutiny from some safe point of observation; but Beatrice chattered
+merrily until they reached the open space beyond the Fort.
+
+A convenient stump stood near by and she led the mare to it. "Now
+then, Beauty," she said. In an instant she was mounted on Queen's
+bare back, and there ensued an exhibition of horsemanship that would
+have put a cavalryman to shame. Some of the soldiers came out to see
+the mare change her gait at a word from her rider, and turn readily
+with neither bit nor bridle. The pins dropped, one by one, from the
+girl's hair, and when she turned out on the open plain for a final
+gallop, it streamed out behind her as Atalanta's may have done when
+she made her last race.
+
+Beatrice was riding like the wind. She went straight on until she was
+scarcely a speck upon the horizon, then circled back gradually. Queen
+was on her mettle, and no dame of high degree ever held her head more
+proudly than the little black mare with the tossing mane. With a last
+turn she came toward the Fort straight as an arrow, and stopped so
+suddenly at the word that she was thrown back upon her haunches.
+
+The girl slipped to the ground, laughing and flushed. "Oh!" she cried,
+"that was glorious, wasn't it, Queen?"
+
+"I'm proud of my cousin," was all Forsyth said; but there was a volume
+of meaning in the tone.
+
+A groom led the horse away to be rubbed down, and Beatrice began a
+fruitless search for the lost hairpins, in which Robert refused to
+join her. "Don't put it up," he pleaded, "you look so much prettier
+with it down."
+
+"I can't, anyway," she said. "I haven't a single pin."
+
+The heavy mass of brown and auburn hung far below her waist, rippling
+ever so slightly, and ending in a curl. A pink flush was on her face
+and her eyes were dancing. "Come," she continued, "they're talking
+about me over there, and I know it."
+
+She had hit upon the truth, for the Mackenzies were having an animated
+conference with Captain Wells. "I never suspected there was any
+trouble," he was saying, "and she didn't mention it. She was waiting
+for us a piece up the trail, and two men with her were carrying her
+box. She said she was coming, so the soldiers took her things and she
+rode with me.
+
+"As she told you, they probably know it now, but I'll see them the
+first thing when I go back and explain. They'll be glad to know she's
+safe. She's as skittish a filly as I've ever laid eyes on--she won't
+wear a bit, nor stand; and that little black devil that she rides is
+made out of the same kind of timber. The two of them will have the
+settlement by the ears inside of a month--you wait and see."
+
+Beatrice appeared at this juncture and pointed a rosy finger at
+Captain Wells. "Perjurer!" she laughed. "You've been taking my
+character away from me!"
+
+"I never tell anything but the truth, Miss," returned the Captain,
+awkwardly. "Are you going back with me this afternoon?"
+
+"I told you once," she answered, "that I was going to live with Aunt
+Eleanor. I'm never going to Fort Wayne again!"
+
+"Do you want me to take a letter or a message to your people?"
+
+"No!" cried Beatrice, with her eyes blazing. "If you dare to mention
+me to them, or say I sent any kind of a message, I'll--I'll haunt you!"
+
+The Captain went out, murmuring confused apologies; and Robert,
+feeling himself in the way, went to his room. The moccasins hanging on
+the wall gave him a vivid moment of self-knowledge. The dainty, arched
+foot he had seen for the first time when Beatrice stamped on the
+piazza, might easily have been the one for which the moccasins were
+made. He stroked the pretty things caressingly, with a soft light in
+his eyes.
+
+"I knew she was coming," he said to himself; "but how did I know?"
+
+In the afternoon, Mackenzie and the officers rode a little way on the
+Fort Wayne trail with Captain Wells, who was charged with many letters
+and messages for friends there, and Beatrice watched the start from
+the window of the living-room.
+
+"Who's that, Aunt Eleanor, riding beside Uncle John?"
+
+"Captain Franklin, in command of the Fort."
+
+"And who's the mean-looking one, twisting his mustache?"
+
+"Lieutenant Howard, dear--Katherine's husband."
+
+"Oh!" said Beatrice, quickly. "Aren't they happy together?"
+
+There was a long silence. "Not very happy, I'm afraid," sighed Mrs.
+Mackenzie.
+
+"I'm sorry," said the girl, with genuine sympathy. "Do you think I
+could help in any way?"
+
+"I don't know, Bee--I wish you could. You will be company for
+Katherine, and perhaps you can make it easier for her, in some ways,
+if you try."
+
+"Poor Cousin Kit! Of course I'll try! Look, Aunty," she said, abruptly
+pointing to a belated rider who was galloping to overtake the others.
+He had his cap in his hand, and his yellow hair was blowing in the
+wind. "That's the big boy I scared. Is he married?"
+
+"No," replied Mrs. Mackenzie. Her lips did not move, but her eyes
+smiled.
+
+"He's handsome," said Beatrice, dispassionately. "I've lived at all
+the posts--Fort Wayne, Detroit, and Fort Mackinac, and he's the
+best-looking soldier I've seen. I'd like to paint his picture, if he'd
+let me."
+
+"I'll ask him, dear; I think he'll let you."
+
+"Aunt Eleanor!" cried Beatrice, reproachfully.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Oh--because. Where are those soldiers going, Aunty?"
+
+Mrs. Mackenzie looked out of the window and saw half a dozen men in
+the boat belonging to the Fort, headed up-stream.
+
+"They're going fishing, I guess. I'll have to go away a little while
+this afternoon, Bee. Mrs. Burns is sick and she needs me--you won't
+mind, will you? I'll leave the table all set, and I'll surely be back
+before dark. Are you afraid to be left alone?"
+
+"No. I'm not afraid of anything; but where is Cousin Rob?"
+
+"He's teaching the children. They don't seem to get much time,
+someway, in the morning, so they begin right after dinner and study
+till supper time. I'm so glad to have Robert here--he's doing wonders
+with them."
+
+"He seems nice," said Beatrice, "and I like him. Can't I go with you,
+Aunt Eleanor?"
+
+"No, dear--somebody has to stay with the baby. He's asleep, though,
+and I don't think he'll trouble you."
+
+"I'll take care of him, Aunty. Don't fret about us."
+
+Nevertheless, the house seemed very lonely to Beatrice after Mrs.
+Mackenzie went away, and she roamed about restlessly. For a time she
+amused herself by examining the articles on the depleted shelves
+behind the counters, but the interest soon vanished. She could find
+nothing to read except a soiled and ragged copy of a paper three
+months old, which she had already seen at Fort Wayne. The murmur
+of voices from a distant room, reached her ears with sudden and
+attractive significance, and her face brightened.
+
+"I don't know as I should do it," she said to herself, but she went to
+the door and tapped softly.
+
+Robert opened it, in surprise, and Beatrice stepped into the room.
+"I've come to visit the school," she said.
+
+"Goody!" cried Johnny.
+
+She seated herself on the window ledge and smiled radiantly at the
+embarrassed teacher. Discipline had been difficult from the beginning,
+and the guest made matters worse.
+
+"Now, then, Johnny," Forsyth said, "what were we studying?"
+
+"Eight times three."
+
+"Yes, and how many are eight times three?"
+
+"Twenty----"
+
+"Twenty-one," said Beatrice.
+
+"Twenty-one," repeated Johnny, readily, with the air of one who has
+accomplished a difficult feat.
+
+Robert frowned and bit his lips. "Eight times three are twenty-four,
+Johnny. Write it ten times on your slate--that will help you to
+remember."
+
+"What a gift for teaching," murmured Beatrice. Robert flushed, but
+did not speak, and there was no sound in the room but the pencil
+scratching on the slate.
+
+"Cousin Rob?"
+
+"Yes, Johnny. What is it?"
+
+"Why, Cousin Bee just said eight times three were twenty-one. Did she
+tell a lie, or didn't she know?"
+
+"Never mind, Johnny; just attend to your lesson."
+
+"Mamma says it's wicked to tell lies," observed Ellen, virtuously,
+sucking her slate pencil.
+
+Beatrice was enjoying herself hugely. She flashed a wicked glance at
+Forsyth as she said, "I'm so glad I came!"
+
+"Go on with your work, Ellen. I want you to write that sentence five
+times without a mistake. Maria Indiana, bring me your primer. Begin
+here."
+
+"Tan't. Baby's fordot."
+
+"Oh, no, you haven't. We learned this yesterday, don't you remember?
+Now, then,--'I see,'--what's the rest of it?"
+
+"I see a tat."
+
+"Where?" asked Beatrice, lightly, and Maria Indiana gazed at her,
+sadly bewildered.
+
+"Where is the cat?" she asked again. "I don't see any."
+
+"Here, Baby," said Robert; "look at the picture."
+
+"I don't like a picture cat," said Beatrice, with a tempting smile, as
+she held out her arms to the child.
+
+"Tuzzin Bee!" crowed the baby, running to her, "me loves oo!"
+
+"I've got this done now," said Johnny. "Eight times three are
+twenty-four."
+
+"That's a mistake," put in Beatrice. "Didn't I tell you it was
+twenty-one?"
+
+"Cousin Rob," asked Ellen, in deep trouble, "if Cousin Bee has told a
+lie, will she go to hell?"
+
+"No," sobbed the baby; "me doesn't want Tuzzin Bee to go to hell!"
+
+Robert's face was pale, and there was a dangerous look in the set
+lines of his mouth. He went to Beatrice, took her by the shoulders,
+and gently, but firmly, put her out of the room, then locked the door.
+
+"Well, I never!" she said to herself.
+
+Beatrice was not given to self-analysis, but she could not keep from
+wondering why she felt so queer. She knew she had no right to be
+angry, and yet she was furious. She was certain that she would have
+done the same thing if she had been in his place, and much earlier at
+that; but the fact did not lessen the enormity of his crime.
+
+"He dared to touch me!" she whispered, with her face hidden.
+
+The long afternoon faded into dusk, and then Mackenzie came home.
+"Where's mother?" he asked.
+
+"She went to see Mrs. Burns. She said she was sick."
+
+"Have you been lonesome, Bee?"
+
+The girl bit her lips. "Not very," she answered grimly.
+
+School was dismissed and the children trooped into the living-room.
+Robert spoke pleasantly to his uncle, but took no notice of Beatrice.
+
+"Uncle John," she said at length, "what do you think of a person who
+takes a lady by the shoulders and puts her out of a room?"
+
+"If you had been a lady," retorted Robert, "I wouldn't have put you
+out."
+
+"Don't quarrel," said Mackenzie. "Life is too short to fuss." He took
+Chan's violin from the chimney-shelf in the next room, and began to
+play a lively tune. Ellen and Johnny pranced around the tea-table, and
+Maria Indiana, with faltering steps, endeavoured to imitate them.
+
+Beatrice laughed, and Robert's heart softened, though he had been very
+angry with her only a little while before. He was about to beg her
+pardon for his seeming harshness, when the door burst open and Mrs.
+Mackenzie rushed in, breathless and white with fear.
+
+"The Indians!" she cried. "The Indians!"
+
+"Where?" shouted Mackenzie, springing to his feet.
+
+"Up at Lee's! Killing and scalping!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE ALARM
+
+
+With rare presence of mind, Beatrice blew out the candles, and they
+made their way to the river in the darkness. The mist was rising from
+the bare earth and the air was heavy with dew. There was no outward
+sign of danger; but the grey shadows were portentous of evil, and in
+the very stillness was a nameless fear.
+
+Mrs. Mackenzie had the baby in her arms. "Smother him if he cries,"
+said the trader, in a low tone, but, fortunately, the child kept
+quiet. Maria Indiana began to wail and her father shook her roughly.
+"Keep still!" he whispered warningly.
+
+Beatrice took charge of the other children, who did as they were told
+without a murmur of complaint. The bateau lay at its moorings and they
+got into it with as little noise as possible. Mackenzie and Robert
+were at the oars.
+
+The stream was narrow, yet the minutes passed like hours, and the
+sound of the oars seemed carried far into the night. "Careful, now,"
+whispered Mackenzie. Robert took the little girl in his arms and they
+ran up the esplanade to the Fort.
+
+Dim shapes of horror seemed hovering around them as they strained
+their ears to catch the savage cry which had blazed the red trail of
+torture from Jamestown to the Lakes. Soldiers ran to meet them, picked
+up the two older children, and hurried with them into the Fort. As
+they entered the stockade, the heavy gate crashed into place.
+
+"Thank God," breathed Mackenzie, "we are safe!"
+
+On the parade-ground was a scene of confusion. Men ran to and fro,
+carrying ammunition and pails of water to the blockhouses and points
+marked on the stockade. Pine knots, thrust between the bars, blazed
+fitfully, throwing a lurid light here and there and making the
+darkness deeper by contrast.
+
+From the windows and open doors of the officers' quarters came stray
+gleams of light. White-faced men and women ran in and out of the
+shadows, hoarse cries of command were heard, and it seemed like some
+vivid dream.
+
+Beatrice ran to the stables, and Queen whinnied when she felt the
+girl's soft hand upon her. "Hush," she said, "we came together,
+Beauty, and we'll stay together--while we're here," she added, with a
+little choke in her voice.
+
+Over by the barracks a man and a boy were talking to Captain Franklin,
+while a little group of people listened. Beatrice, with Queen's halter
+in her hand, went near enough to hear.
+
+"I knew something was wrong," the man was saying. "A dozen of 'em came
+in all painted up, but Frenchy and White seemed to think it was all
+right and went on talking to them. I says to the kid here, 'They ain't
+Pottawattomies, and we'd better get away if we can. Do as you see me
+do.'
+
+"So we went out to the canoes, and two of the red devils followed us
+to ask where we were going. I told 'em we were going over to feed the
+cattle and we'd be back soon to get supper. When we got across we
+pulled some hay and pretended to get the cattle together, but as soon
+as we got behind a stack, we ran for the Fort. Two shots were fired
+after we left, and God only knows what they're doing up there now.
+There must be thousands of them in the woods."
+
+"Where's Chan?" asked Mrs. Mackenzie.
+
+"Haven't seen him since noon," replied her husband. "He'll have to
+look out for himself."
+
+"Where are the soldiers who went fishing?" asked Beatrice.
+
+"They haven't come back," answered the Captain; "but they're armed."
+
+"That won't do any good," said Lieutenant Howard. Two of the soldiers
+standing by ran to the blockhouses without waiting for an order. The
+deep-throated guns thundered a warning, and confused echoes came back,
+but there was no other answer.
+
+Preparations for fight went on. The men in the blockhouses were
+ordered to stay there, and others were assigned to the same posts.
+Still others were stationed at the magazine and at regular intervals
+along the stockade. The gates were heavily guarded, and Captain
+Franklin ordered the women and children to the officers' quarters, but
+only Mrs. Mackenzie obeyed.
+
+"I'll stay here," said Mrs. Franklin, in open defiance.
+
+"Wait till we are attacked," cried Katherine.
+
+"Queen and I will stay together," said Beatrice, proudly.
+
+Ronald was rapidly loading the army pistols and distributing them
+among the women. Beatrice was standing with her arm thrown over the
+mare's neck when he came to her, and the fitful light of the pine
+knots shone full upon her face and her glorious hair. Her eyes were
+bright and she breathed rapidly, but no one could have said she was
+afraid.
+
+For a moment they stood there, looking into each other's eyes. "When
+the first Indian leaps the stockade, put it to your temple and fire,"
+said Ronald, almost in a whisper.
+
+Beatrice took the heavy pistol from him with a steady hand. "Give me
+another cartridge," she said.
+
+"What for?"
+
+"For Queen. I won't have her hurt, and she goes first."
+
+The Ensign obeyed, with another long look at the girl. "You're a
+thoroughbred," he said. For a breathless instant they faced each
+other, then Ronald clicked his heels together, saluted, and turned
+away.
+
+Something stirred painfully in the girl's heart. As in a dream, she
+saw Mrs. Mackenzie and the children going into Lieutenant Howard's,
+watched Forsyth and the trader as they loaded their muskets, and heard
+Katherine's terrible laugh when she put the cold muzzle of the pistol
+to her temple to see how it would feel.
+
+Then Franklin and Ronald passed her. "I won't give an order," the
+Captain was saying; "it's a job for volunteers."
+
+"May I have them?" asked the Ensign.
+
+"Yes--six. We can spare no more."
+
+A moment later a clear voice sounded above the clamour, "Attention!"
+
+There was the rush of hurrying feet, an instant's wondering silence,
+then Ronald spoke. "Boys," he said, "Mrs. Burns has a baby a day
+old, and there is no one with her but her husband. I'm going after
+them--who's going with me?"
+
+The soldiers, to a man, rallied around him. "I!" came from every
+throat. "I'm going!"
+
+"Six only," he said. He quickly selected his men, they snatched up
+their guns, and, with a warning "hush!" from him, they went to the
+bateau in which the Mackenzies had crossed.
+
+"Steady!" came Ronald's low voice, then the oars murmured in the water
+and the heavy gate rumbled into place once more.
+
+Forsyth, stunned by the whirl of events, was leaning on his musket,
+staring vacantly into space. Across the parade-ground his face
+appeared to Beatrice in the last flicker of a burnt-out knot. All her
+pent-up anger returned to her, and, still smarting under the memory of
+his affront, she left her horse and went over to him.
+
+"Why didn't you go with him?" she demanded.
+
+"Who--where?"
+
+"Ensign Ronald!"
+
+"I--I don't know," he stammered.
+
+He had told the unvarnished truth, but she interpreted it in her
+own way. "I'll tell you why you didn't go," she said, with measured
+distinctness. Then her eyes flashed and her breast heaved.
+
+"Coward!" she blazed.
+
+Robert started as if he had been struck, but before he could speak,
+she had left him and gone back to Queen.
+
+Her lip curled as she saw him standing there, leaning on his musket,
+with his head bowed. His habit of self-analysis asserted itself, and
+he began to wonder whether she had been right. The blood that had left
+his heart came back in tides of pain, and the word burned itself upon
+his consciousness. "Coward," he said to himself, "coward! She called
+me a coward!"
+
+Yet he knew that what she had said did not matter so much as the
+possibility that she had spoken truly--that his self-respect meant
+more than any woman's praise or blame. His reason told him that; but
+her scornful, accusing face flitted before him and he had an impulse
+to get away--it did not matter where. Still dazed, he went to the
+blockhouse at the north-west corner of the stockade and joined the men
+there.
+
+On the parade-ground Doctor Norton was making grewsome preparations.
+A stretcher was placed near each blockhouse, and others at regular
+intervals. Bottles were ranged in rows upon the ground, and piles of
+bandages showed whitely under the flare of the torches.
+
+He looked up, to find Katherine at his side. "Let me help you," she
+said.
+
+"No; there's nothing you can do just now, but I'm afraid we'll have
+our hands full later if--Go and scrape some lint," he broke off
+abruptly, "and make some coffee. Get the other women to help you."
+
+Here the Lieutenant passed them, without seeming to see them, and she
+followed him with a guilty feeling in her heart.
+
+When she entered her own house, she found her mother there, scraping
+lint and making bandages, while a pot of strong coffee was already
+steaming on the hearth and piles of cut bread were stacked upon the
+table.
+
+"This is all we can do, dear," said Mrs. Mackenzie.
+
+"Let me help you, mother--I'll get some more old linen."
+
+Mrs. Franklin came in with her arms full of white cloth, which she
+tore into strips and wound tightly, ready for immediate use. They
+worked by the light of a single candle, and the three loaded pistols
+lay on the table in front of them.
+
+"If we sleep to-night," said the Captain's wife at length, without
+pausing in her task, "I'll take Miss Manning and Mrs. Burns, when the
+boys come back."
+
+"Mother and the children can stay here," said Katherine; "but I
+haven't room for any more."
+
+"That's all right," answered Mrs. Mackenzie. "The men can go to the
+barracks."
+
+More than an hour passed, but nothing was heard from the rescue party,
+and the fear of danger deepened. The Lieutenant came in, endeavouring
+to conceal his nervousness.
+
+"That's good," he said, indicating the piles of lint and bandages.
+Then he drank a cup of strong, black coffee, and paced back and forth
+uneasily.
+
+"Where are the boys?" asked Katherine. "Isn't it time for them to come
+back?"
+
+"No, I don't think so; we could hardly expect them yet."
+
+"Couldn't some of the others go after them?"
+
+"Heavens, no! We haven't fifty men here, and we need every one. Chan
+is missing, seven have gone after Mrs. Burns, and six are on a fishing
+trip--that's fourteen out of our small force. In their place we have
+Father John, Forsyth, and the man and boy from Lee's. The Indians are
+probably gathering in the woods and making ready to attack us. God!"
+he said, under his breath, "why can't we have troops!"
+
+Katherine warned him with a glance which almost imperceptibly
+indicated Mrs. Franklin, who was hard at work, seemingly absorbed in
+her task. "Where's Wallace?" she asked, without looking up.
+
+"Walking around the parade-ground. He's safe," he added bitterly;
+"don't worry about him."
+
+Mrs. Mackenzie and Katherine both frowned at the emphasis on the last
+word. "Don't worry about me, either," he continued; "I'm going now."
+
+Katherine went to the door with him. "Can I do anything more, dear?"
+she asked.
+
+"No," he said roughly, "unless you want to mind your own business for
+a while!" He laughed harshly, pushed her from him, and went out.
+
+"Ralph isn't well," she sighed, going back to the table; "and I'm
+afraid something has happened outside, too. I wonder where the boys
+are?"
+
+The whole garrison was asking the same question secretly; but no
+man would openly admit that there was ground for anxiety. Beatrice
+had tied Queen to the flag-pole, and was besieging the Doctor with
+inquiries.
+
+"Tell me," she pleaded, for the third time, "haven't they been gone
+long enough to get back?"
+
+"Yes," he answered finally; "they have. They should have been here
+long ago."
+
+"I knew it!" she exclaimed. "I'm going to the blockhouse to see if
+they aren't coming!"
+
+She called to those above her, but no one heard, so she went up the
+ladder. "Where are they?" she cried, bursting in upon the startled
+group.
+
+Even as she spoke there was a faint "halloo" from the west. "They're
+coming," shouted Robert, but his voice was lost, for the sentinel at
+the gate had heard also.
+
+The parade-ground filled with people, and Beatrice had turned to
+descend the ladder, when Robert caught her by the arm.
+
+"Beatrice!" he gasped. "Let me know the worst--do you despise me?"
+
+"Yes," she answered, coolly. "Please let go of me, and never dare to
+touch me again."
+
+The gate was lifted and seven men came in, carrying the mattress on
+which lay Mrs. Burns and her baby. Mrs. Franklin led the way to her
+hospitable door, where Mrs. Mackenzie and Katherine were already
+waiting to do what they could in the way of making the mother and
+child comfortable.
+
+It was Mrs. Mackenzie who first noticed that Ronald was not with them.
+"Where's George?" she asked, in a low tone.
+
+"He's gone up the river, ma'am," answered one of the soldiers. "We
+begged him not to, but he would go, and he wouldn't let a one of us
+go with him. He thought he heard a noise, so he went up-stream to see
+what it was."
+
+Mr. Burns had seen no Indians, but, like the others, thought they were
+gathering in the woods. He was far away from the house at the time the
+man had shouted the warning; but he had heard the two shots at Lee's
+and the guns from the Fort.
+
+"Captain," said Lieutenant Howard, "I'll be one of a party to go and
+find Ronald. He's probably up at Lee's."
+
+"You won't," growled the Captain, biting his mustache. "Just because
+the young fool chooses to risk his life for nothing, I won't expose
+five or six men to danger. We have none to spare."
+
+"How did he go?" asked the Doctor of Mr. Burns.
+
+"He took my boat. He'll pull back down-stream quick enough if anything
+is wrong."
+
+"No he won't," returned the Doctor, warmly; "you don't know the lad."
+
+Robert walked back and forth on the parade-ground, sorely troubled on
+his own account, and deeply concerned for the safety of his friend.
+Mackenzie shared his anxiety, but quickly vetoed the suggestion that
+they two follow him.
+
+"'T ain't no manner of use, Rob," he said, kindly. "We're under
+military orders, and you heard what the Captain said. Besides, that
+dare-devil boy ain't afraid of anything, and I guess he'll come out
+with a whole skin--he always has."
+
+"Were you thinking of going after him, Cousin Rob?" asked Beatrice,
+sweetly.
+
+He started at the sound of her voice, then looked full in her face
+with no sign of recognition. Beatrice met his eyes squarely until he
+turned on his heel and walked away, followed by a peal of light,
+mocking laughter that cut into his heart like a knife.
+
+"What's the matter between you and Rob?" asked the trader, curiously.
+
+"Nothing," answered the girl, shrugging her shoulders; "but I was
+amused a little while ago because he was so frightened--he was scared
+almost to death."
+
+Mackenzie's eyes glittered as he peered at her keenly from under his
+bushy brows. "Don't say that again, my girl," he said, huskily, "for
+fear doesn't run in the Forsyth blood. His grandfather was killed at
+Lexington."
+
+"A boat is coming," shouted a man from the blockhouse. Shortly
+afterward, the fishing party came in, tired but triumphant, with a
+long string of river fish. They had seen no Indians, and had not met
+Ronald.
+
+"Did you hear the gun?" asked the Captain.
+
+"Yes, sir," replied one of the soldiers. "We were up on the North
+Branch and thought it was a warning, so we laid low for a while. Then,
+as we didn't hear anything more, we came on down as quietly as we
+could."
+
+"Everything all right at Lee's?" asked Lieutenant Howard.
+
+"As far as we saw, sir."
+
+Still there was uneasiness regarding the Ensign. Katherine was pale,
+Mrs. Franklin was crying, and Beatrice had her small hands clenched
+tightly together. Suddenly they all knew how much they should miss him
+if----
+
+Then there was a familiar whistle outside, the sentinel opened the
+gate, and Ronald came in with a big black and white dog in his arms.
+
+"I thought I heard him howling," he said, in answer to the torrent of
+questions, "so I went on up to Lee's to get him. The devils have been
+there all right,--the guns must have frightened them away.
+
+"Yes," he continued in a low tone, in answer to a whispered question
+from Howard; "White and Frenchy. White was shot and stabbed in the
+breast and poor Frenchy was scalped--the whole top of his head lifted
+off. The dog was guarding the body."
+
+"What's that?" asked Mrs. Franklin, from the edge of the group where
+all the women were standing together. "Speak louder--we can't hear."
+
+The deep-toned bell tolled taps, and there was a general movement
+toward quarters. "I was just talking about the dog," shouted Ronald to
+the women.
+
+"He fought me at first," he continued, addressing the Lieutenant
+and the Doctor; "but I soon won his heart. Poor old boy," he said,
+stroking the dog, "he didn't want to be made into a stew, did he?"
+
+"We must go up to-morrow," said the Lieutenant.
+
+"What are you going to call him?" asked the Doctor.
+
+"Major, I guess--we haven't a major here."
+
+Lieutenant Howard's white teeth showed in a sarcastic smile. "You
+might call him 'Captain,'" he said, twisting his mustache, "for the
+same good reason."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THOROUGHBREDS
+
+
+The guard was doubled that night and the small force was ready for
+instant action. Sentinels patrolled the river bank and stood at the
+gates; while in the blockhouses the cannon were trained through the
+port-holes, and men kept vigilant watch.
+
+At three o'clock the terrified bleating of the sheep aroused every one
+but the children. A sentinel fired his musket and retreated to the
+Fort, then a heavy gun rumbled ominously.
+
+Once again the parade-ground filled with people. "What is it? What is
+it?" they cried.
+
+"Indians," Captain Franklin explained. "They went after the horses,
+but didn't find them, so they stabbed the sheep and turned them loose.
+The sentry saw some of them in the pasture, and fired, then ran to the
+Fort. A tomahawk just missed him--it grazed his head and struck a
+waggon wheel. The cannon must have frightened them away."
+
+So it proved, for the next morning a trail of blood led from the
+pasture toward the woods. The sheep lay dead on the plains around the
+Fort, but search parties found nothing, though they scoured the woods
+thoroughly for miles around.
+
+Chandonnais appeared at the usual time for work, but refused to say
+where he had been. When he was asked unpleasant questions, he always
+pretended that he did not understand, and from this position neither
+man nor woman could swerve him a hair's breadth.
+
+Lieutenant Howard, with four men, went up the river to Lee's and
+buried the two victims of the night before. "It wasn't good to look
+at," he said to Ronald, when he returned.
+
+"I know," answered the Ensign; "I found out that much last night. I
+didn't dare strike a light, but I felt----" He turned his face away
+and swallowed hard. "Don't tell the women," he concluded.
+
+"I won't," said Howard, "and I've made the boys promise not to talk.
+There's no use of making things worse than they are."
+
+Major sat at Ronald's feet, listening intelligently, and thumping the
+ground vigorously with his bushy tail. "Poor old boy," said his new
+master, affectionately; "it was pretty bad, wasn't it? He's a nice
+dog, isn't he, Howard?"
+
+"Washing would help him."
+
+"He's going to have his Spring bath the first warm day. How do you
+suppose dogs know whom they belong to? Major knows he's mine, and
+nobody could get him away from me."
+
+Beatrice came out of Captain Franklin's and took a careful survey of
+the Fort. It was a gloomy place at best, but the disorder of the night
+made it worse.
+
+"Good-morning," said the Lieutenant, as he passed her on his way home.
+
+"Good-morning," returned the girl, including Ronald in the salutation.
+Then she whistled to the dog, but he paid no attention to the call
+other than to lean heavily against his master.
+
+"He's mine," laughed Ronald, meeting her, "and you can't have him. How
+do you like living in the Fort?"
+
+"I don't like it," she answered disdainfully. "It's about as cheerful
+as a tomb. I'm glad we're going home."
+
+Ronald lifted his brows inquiringly. "Who's going home?"
+
+"Why, all of us--Uncle John, Aunt Eleanor, the children, and--and
+Cousin Rob."
+
+"Oh, no, you're not! You're going to stay here."
+
+"Who said so?"
+
+"I say so," replied George, mischievously.
+
+"Can't I go out of the Fort?"
+
+"No."
+
+"We'll see," said Beatrice, tossing her head.
+
+She ran to the gate, but he was there before her and effectually
+barred the way.
+
+"Let me pass," she said icily.
+
+"I'm sorry, Miss Manning, but you can't go without permission from
+the Captain. You are under military orders, and no soldier or citizen
+is to leave the Fort without a guard. After sunset no one but the
+sentries can pass the gates."
+
+"For how long?" demanded Beatrice.
+
+"Till the Captain orders otherwise."
+
+"And I'm to stay here, then, without a hat, or even a clean
+handkerchief, until His Majesty sees fit to let me go to my own home
+in broad daylight!"
+
+The colour flamed in her cheeks, and her eyes snapped dangerously. The
+Ensign was enjoying the situation hugely, and thought Beatrice was
+the prettiest girl he had ever seen. In fact, he was on the point of
+saying so, but, fortunately, thought better of it.
+
+"You can go if I go with you," he suggested.
+
+"Then I'll stay here," announced Beatrice, with unconcealed scorn. She
+walked away from him with her head high, and went straight to Captain
+Franklin.
+
+"Gone to see if I lied to her," laughed Ronald to himself. "She's a
+mettlesome damsel--devilish mettlesome."
+
+"That is my order," said the Captain, in answer to her question, "and
+it must be obeyed."
+
+"Can't I go home at all?"
+
+"Certainly, for a few minutes at a time. Ask Ensign Ronald to go with
+you this afternoon."
+
+The Captain turned away, and Beatrice gazed at his retreating figure
+with fire in her eyes. "Fool!" she said aloud, stamping her foot; "I
+won't ask him. I'll stay here till I die before I'll ask him!"
+
+Captain Franklin's house immediately became offensive to her, and
+she knew Robert was at Katherine's, teaching the children. The
+parade-ground was odious, because Ronald was walking briskly around
+it for exercise. Her uncle passed her with the coolest kind of a nod,
+remembering what she had said about Robert the night before, and she
+began to wish she had never left Fort Wayne.
+
+Only the stables remained, and she went there to see the friend who
+never failed her. Queen pranced in her stall and tapped with her
+dainty hoofs impatiently.
+
+"I can't take you out, Beauty," she said sadly, "because they won't
+let us leave the Fort."
+
+Queen put her nose into the girl's neck and was immediately slapped.
+"You're not allowed to do that," said Beatrice, sternly, turning away.
+Queen whinnied and Beatrice understood that the offender was very
+sorry and very lonely, and would never do it again, so she went back.
+
+"I'll take you around the Fort if you'll be good," she said. Her
+saddle was hanging there, but she preferred to ride without it, so she
+replaced the halter with a bridle and went out, mounted, hoping Ronald
+was not there.
+
+But he was still walking around the parade-ground, with Major in
+his wake. Queen pricked up her ears but went on, obediently, at the
+slow pace which was better than nothing. Ronald smiled to himself as
+Beatrice crossed and turned so that if he kept on he would appear to
+be following her.
+
+Twice, three times the procession went round the square, with the
+dog bringing up the rear, before a bright idea struck the Ensign.
+By slow-degrees he slackened his pace, and as they passed Lieutenant
+Howard's for the fifth time, Mrs. Mackenzie came out on the piazza.
+
+"What's the matter, Bee?" she called; "can't you catch him?"
+
+In half a minute Queen was in her stall, much surprised, and not a
+little displeased at the sudden termination of her exercise. "You
+wretch," whispered Beatrice, as she dismounted; "whatever possessed
+you to follow him?"
+
+The coast was clear when she left the stables, but she went to Mrs.
+Howard's in a bad humour. She was not upon good terms with any one,
+and would have have started back to Fort Wayne that afternoon if it
+had been possible. She smiled grimly as she realised that, by her own
+act, she had forever cut herself off from her friends there. "I'll
+have to fight it out here," she said to herself; "I seem destined to
+fight."
+
+Mrs. Franklin went to Mrs. Howard's to invite Beatrice to dinner, and
+was much disappointed when she refused. "Thank you," Beatrice said,
+trying hard to be pleasant; "but I'll stay with Aunty and Cousin Kit
+this time. I haven't a doubt you'll get tired of me, though, before
+His High Mightiness lets me go home."
+
+She could have bitten her tongue out for the unlucky speech, but, to
+her relief, the Captain's wife misunderstood. "I saw you at the gate
+this morning," she laughed, "arguing with George. It's no use--he
+always has his own way."
+
+"What a narrow escape!" she exclaimed, as Mrs. Franklin went out.
+"Aunt Eleanor, this is one of my bad days."
+
+"You mustn't say any day is bad, dear," replied Mrs. Mackenzie,
+"because each one is what we make it. We begin afresh every morning
+with the day in our own hands. I'm sorry this has happened; but I'm
+very glad we had the Fort to come to, and I am sure you can find
+something pleasant here if you only look for it."
+
+Nine people crowded around Mrs. Howard's table at dinner time, but
+Mackenzie and Robert barely spoke to Beatrice. The tribal instinct was
+strong in the trader, and Robert was of his blood. Katherine perceived
+that something was wrong and did her best to produce harmony, in which
+she was ably seconded by her husband. The Lieutenant was in a very
+pleasant frame of mind.
+
+"Cousin Bee," said Ellen, "are you coming to visit the school this
+afternoon?" Beatrice was talking with Katherine and did not seem to
+hear.
+
+"Tuzzin Bee," screamed Maria Indiana, "is oo tummin?"
+
+"No, dear," answered Beatrice, quickly.
+
+"Why not?" asked Mrs. Mackenzie, innocently; "it might amuse you, Bee."
+
+"I doubt it," said the girl. "I'm going to help Kit."
+
+"Cousin Rob put her out," explained Johnny, "because she told a lie."
+
+Above everything else on earth, Beatrice hated to wash dishes, but she
+plunged into the work with a will after dinner, as a penance, and in
+spite of Mrs. Howard's protests.
+
+"It's so good of you to help me," sighed Katherine, as the last dish
+was put away; "for mother is tired out, and I have a headache. None of
+us slept much last night, I fancy."
+
+"I know I didn't, but I seldom sleep in the daytime. I wish you and
+Aunt Eleanor would go and lie down. I can take care of myself."
+
+"All right," answered Katherine, "if you don't mind."
+
+Beatrice sat by the window a little while after the house became
+quiet, then went over to Mrs. Franklin's, but there was no response to
+her rap. "Everybody's asleep, I guess," she said to herself.
+
+She went to the gate and looked out longingly into the bright Spring
+sunshine. The sentinel passed her with his musket over his shoulder,
+and went on around the Fort. She heard his measured steps die away in
+the distance, and wondered, mechanically, how long it took him to make
+the round.
+
+It seemed a long time before she heard him coming. A pirogue was tied
+to a sapling on the river bank and the oars lay near it. Across the
+stream the lonely house was beckoning to her to come. She slipped
+out of the gate and leaned up against the stockade outside. Then the
+sentry passed again.
+
+"Against orders, Miss," he said.
+
+"What?" asked Beatrice.
+
+"Standin' outside."
+
+"Oh," she said, returning to the gate. "Can I stand here?"
+
+"Yes'm, if you don't go no further. Orders is to stay inside."
+
+"All right." She smiled brilliantly, then inquired, in a tone of
+polite interest, "Are you all alone here?"
+
+"Yes'm. My mate's at mess."
+
+"Too bad. It's lonely for you, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes'm, but I'm used to it."
+
+He went on, and she watched him till he turned the first corner. A
+backward glance assured her that the parade-ground was deserted, so
+she edged out of the gate again, and, under cover of the stockade, ran
+to the pirogue, snatched up the oars, and started across.
+
+The blood beat hard in her pulses, but she was not afraid, and the
+rare delight of disobeying military orders set her head awhirl. She
+expected to see the esplanade fill with soldiers, shouting to her to
+come back, but nothing happened. She reached the other bank safely,
+tied the pirogue, and ran into the house. From the window of the
+living-room she saw the sentry pass once more. His head was bowed and
+he did not notice that a boat was gone.
+
+Then Ronald came out of the Fort alone and took another boat. She
+shrank back to the farthest corner of the room, and her heart stood
+still until she saw him turn up-stream. "There," she said to herself,
+"he's disobeying orders, too, for he's gone without a guard. If he can
+do it, there's no reason why I shouldn't."
+
+Unconsciously, Beatrice had sustained a high nervous strain for too
+long a period. The quarrel with her aunt and uncle at Fort Wayne had
+been an affair of no small moment at the time, and the preparation
+for the journey and the long horseback ride had told upon her
+strength. The excitement of her arrival, new scenes and new faces, and
+the fright of the night before had taxed her still further, and her
+trouble with Robert had hurt her more deeply than she knew. She had
+reached the fine dividing line between a let-down and a break.
+
+The indescribable loneliness of the house was depressing. The bare
+walls seemed to whisper back and forth, and the table, still set for
+supper, had a ghastly look about it. The rooms were not merely alone,
+but untenanted. Cold ashes lay upon the hearths, the dust had settled
+upon the chairs, and the sunlight outside only served to heighten the
+gloom.
+
+In the schoolroom the books were piled neatly upon the table, and the
+slates were clean--ready for the next day's task. She experienced
+an unwonted twinge of conscience as she entered, unrebuked, and
+remembered how exasperating she had been.
+
+At the Fort she had thought of many things she needed, but now her
+errand seemed purposeless, and the pleasures of disobedience began to
+pall. She went into her room, gathered up some of her toilet articles,
+and stood there, listlessly, watching the sentinel as he passed again
+without missing the boat.
+
+"They're fine soldiers," she said to herself. "They know lots."
+
+Then her heart gave a great leap, for there was a soft step at the
+back door. Some one entered very quietly, and she became as cold and
+immovable as if she had been made of stone. The catlike tread moved
+slowly into the living-room, and she trembled like an aspen. She tried
+to raise the window, thinking that she could scream if she could not
+get out, but her hands shook so that it was useless. Meanwhile the
+intruder came nearer, with the same stealthy steps. No one had crossed
+the river and the sentinel was not in sight.
+
+Some one opened the door of the schoolroom and closed it with the
+least possible noise. Then the hushed steps came nearer still, but
+the window would not move. Her door was open, but she knew the
+flimsy lock would not hold, even if she could manage to shut it. An
+instant--now--she tried to shut her eyes, but could not--horror upon
+horror came upon her--then Ronald entered her room.
+
+For a blind instant the earth whirled beneath her, then the
+flood-gates opened and Beatrice wept. He did as any other man in his
+place would have done and put a protecting arm around her, but, though
+sorely tempted, manfully refrained from kissing her.
+
+"I'm so sorry I frightened you," he said, with bitter self-reproach.
+"Don't, Beatrice--Miss Manning,--please don't cry any more!"
+
+As soon as she was conscious of her position, she drew away from him,
+still sobbing. It was not only her fright, but the natural result of
+the high tension at which she had lived for more than a week. He left
+her and rummaged around until he found a bottle of brandy, then he
+brought her a glass of water liberally strengthened with it.
+
+"Here," he said, "drink this."
+
+She obeyed, and in a few minutes began to recover her self-possession.
+"How did you get here?" she asked.
+
+"I went up the river a little way, landed on this side, and walked
+down to the back door. You didn't suppose I'd let you come over here
+alone, did you?"
+
+"Did you see me when I came?"
+
+"Certainly. I expected you to do just what you did, and I kept my eye
+on you. I knew you were in the house, because I saw the boat outside,
+but I didn't mean to frighten you. I just thought I'd look around
+until we met."
+
+"You--you--walked so softly," she said, with quivering lips.
+
+"Did I? That's the first time I've ever been accused of that. It must
+have been your imagination."
+
+"Perhaps," she answered, with a long sigh.
+
+"If you have everything you want, we'll go back now."
+
+Scarcely conscious of what she did, she stooped to pick up the things
+that had fallen to the floor. They seemed utterly useless for all
+time, but she felt the necessity of action. As they turned to leave
+the room, he took her cold hands in his and looked down into her wet
+eyes.
+
+"Promise me," he said, "that you will never again disobey a military
+order."
+
+She hesitated, and he repeated it.
+
+"How do you know I'd keep a promise?" she asked, to gain time.
+
+"Because you're a thoroughbred."
+
+Something in his eyes subdued her. "I promise," she said, almost in a
+whisper.
+
+"All right. Now, we'll not say anything about this to any one--do you
+understand?"
+
+She was still trembling when he helped her into the pirogue, and
+neither spoke while they were crossing. When they entered the gate,
+Captain Franklin met them.
+
+"Did she ask you to take her over?" he inquired of Ronald.
+
+The Ensign's eyes met his squarely. "Yes, sir."
+
+"Did you go together? I thought I saw you going alone."
+
+"We went together. She was waiting for me outside."
+
+"Very well. I will have no disobedience of my orders--remember that,
+both of you."
+
+"Don't faint," George whispered, warningly, as the Captain walked
+away. "It's all right now, but that's the first time I ever lied--in
+my official capacity."
+
+Beatrice put a small, icy hand into his own. "Thank you," she said
+quietly; "you're a thoroughbred, too."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+ON THE FORT WAYNE TRAIL
+
+
+As silently as they had gone, the Indians returned. No one but the
+sentinels saw the ghostly procession when it passed the Fort from the
+southward, in the grey mists of dawn. Black Partridge was still at the
+head, the others following him in single file.
+
+The deserted wigwams in the hollow were as they had left them, and
+inside of an hour they had taken up the thread of existence at the
+point where the annual pilgrimage had broken it off. Some exchanges of
+gifts were made among them; but, in the main, each one was satisfied
+with what he had received.
+
+Early in the morning the chief went to the trading station, and,
+finding it deserted, went immediately to the Fort in search of
+his friend Shaw-nee-aw-kee. They had a long conversation on the
+parade-ground, and soldiers and civilians gathered around them,
+listening impatiently until the interpreter was ready to speak.
+
+"I understand it now," said Mackenzie to the Captain. "He says
+that while they were up in Canada, the Chippewas and Ottawas sent
+speeches among them, saying the northern tribes had heard that the
+Pottawattomies and Winnebagoes were not upon good terms with the white
+people and that they desired them to be friendly. His own people only
+laughed, but the Winnebagoes determined to show their independence in
+a refusal to obey the commands of other tribes. So a dozen braves came
+here to take some white scalps, that they might flaunt them in the
+faces of the others. He says a large force was waiting in the woods,
+and that they would doubtless have killed every one outside of the
+Fort, even if they did not make an attack upon the Fort itself, but
+that the guns of the White Father frightened them away."
+
+Here the chief began to talk again, with many gestures.
+
+"He says," continued Mackenzie, "that we need not now be afraid, since
+he and his people have returned to protect us. He is sorry that his
+friends have suffered during his absence, and after this a part of the
+tribe will always remain here, while the others go after their gifts."
+
+"We can go home, then," said Mrs. Mackenzie.
+
+"Isn't he splendid!" exclaimed Beatrice. "I'd like to paint his
+picture. Do you think he'd let me, Uncle John?"
+
+It took a great deal of explanation to make Black Partridge
+understand, but he finally consented, on condition that the picture
+would be given to him. "He's afraid the white squaw will make a
+charm," said Mackenzie.
+
+"All right," laughed Beatrice. "I can make several sketches, and he
+can have one of the pictures. He needn't know I make more than one."
+
+By night the Mackenzies were in their own home again, and, as the
+weeks passed, the fear was forgotten by all save Beatrice. She
+could not enter her own room without a vivid remembrance of her
+fright, coupled with the consciousness that she had cried like a
+baby, and that the Ensign had put his arm around her unrebuked. She
+hated herself for her weakness and blamed herself bitterly for her
+foolishness, because, if she had only stopped to think, she would have
+known the difference in sound between a moccasin and an army boot.
+
+Still, at night, she would sometimes start from troubled dreams with
+the same deadly fear upon her and tremble long after she knew she was
+awake and safe. Behind it all was something she did not care to think
+of, but memory gave her no peace.
+
+Pictures, clear and distinct, intruded upon her mental vision against
+her will. She saw Robert leaning on his musket, the only man in
+the Fort who was not up and doing when danger seemed imminent, and
+shuddered at the look on his face when she called him a coward. In
+his eyes there had been something of the same reproach with which
+a dog regards the well-loved master who has unjustly struck him.
+"Lexington!" she said to herself over and over again; "his fathers
+fought there, and I called their son a coward!"
+
+Swiftly upon the memory came the sound of his voice when he had cried,
+"Beatrice, do you despise me?" and the sight of his strained, eager
+face, as he waited for her to speak. The knowledge of her answer made
+her shrink from herself with bitterness and shame. The obvious course
+of apology lay open to her, but her pride refused to humble itself
+that far. Time and time again she had determined to make partial
+atonement in that way, but her stubborn lips would not move to shape
+the word "forgive."
+
+Robert seemed to have forgotten, and each day he made himself dearer
+to the Mackenzies. Between the trader and his college-bred nephew
+there slowly grew one of those rare friendships possible only to men.
+Mackenzie had not spent his life upon the frontier without learning to
+understand his fellow-man, and to read, though perhaps roughly, the
+inner meaning of outward semblances. In Robert he saw the blood of the
+Forsyths undefiled--the martial spirit was there, educated, refined,
+and tempered until it was akin to polished steel. From his mother the
+boy had received broad charity and a great gentleness, as well as the
+adamantine pride which is at once the strength and terror of a woman's
+heart.
+
+Mrs. Mackenzie had quickly learned to love him, and with her he took
+the place of a grown son. He helped her in countless little ways, and
+often sat with his arm thrown over her shoulders while she sewed upon
+the rough garments her husband wore, and talked to him as she worked.
+The children idolised him.
+
+From all this Beatrice felt herself an outcast, though there was no
+visible evidence that she was not one of them. The trader laughed and
+joked with her as he always had done, and her aunt regarded her with
+tender affection. Maria Indiana and the baby adored her, and the other
+children openly admired her, in spite of a lingering belief that she
+had broken one of the Ten Commandments. Still, she was not satisfied,
+for every day she remembered, with a pang of self-reproach, and Robert
+stood aloof. He never failed to be courteous and considerate, yet
+between them was a cold, impenetrable distance which never softened in
+the slightest degree.
+
+Beatrice and Ronald were great friends. His unnatural shyness had
+worn off, but he did not treat her with the easy familiarity the
+other women at the post had learned to expect from him. He was quite
+capable of teasing Mrs. Howard and Mrs. Franklin to the limit of
+their endurance; but Mrs. Mackenzie and Beatrice were included in the
+manifestations of deep respect.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Burns decided to leave the post and go to Fort Wayne,
+where they had relatives, as soon as Mrs. Burns was able to travel.
+The man and boy who had escaped from the Indians at Lee's determined
+to go with them. The farm was too far away from the Fort to be
+altogether safe, and a kind of disembodied horror had hung about the
+place since the killing of the two men and the savage mutilation of
+their bodies.
+
+Black Partridge and a few of the Pottawattomies volunteered to
+accompany them to Fort Wayne whenever they might be ready to start.
+For a time it was thought best to take one of the waggons at the Fort;
+but Spring was at hand, and there would doubtless be streams which a
+waggon could not successfully ford.
+
+Ronald assisted Mr. Burns in selecting and packing the few things they
+were to take with them, and their household effects were distributed
+among the Indians who were to compose the guard. The four white people
+were to ride horseback and the Indians were to follow on foot, riding
+the horses back when the others had safely reached Fort Wayne.
+
+"Miss Manning," said Ronald one afternoon, "we are having trouble in
+finding a horse suitable for Mrs. Burns. Would you be willing to lend
+her yours?"
+
+"No, I wouldn't," snapped Beatrice.
+
+"The horse will be brought back safely," pleaded the Ensign.
+
+"No, she won't, because she isn't going."
+
+Ronald's face changed and he left her without another word.
+
+"I don't care," said Beatrice to herself; "she couldn't ride Queen
+anyway. Queen wouldn't let her--nobody has ever ridden her but me."
+Later, it occurred to her that she might have explained more fully
+to Ronald, but she put the thought from her as unworthy of a proud
+spirit. She knew that he had put her down as selfish, but repeatedly
+told herself that she did not care.
+
+The day was set for their departure, and they were to start at
+sunrise. The night before, Beatrice found it impossible to sleep,
+and, long before daylight, she got up and dressed. Because there was
+nothing to do in the house and she was afraid of waking the others,
+she went out on the piazza.
+
+Across the river there were signs of life, and she got into a pirogue
+with the laudable desire to say good-bye to Mrs. Burns. When she
+reached the Fort, Mrs. Franklin and Katherine were already up and
+assisting Mrs. Burns in her preparations for the journey; but the
+Captain and Lieutenant Howard were not there.
+
+Suddenly it occurred to Beatrice that she might take Queen and ride
+a little way along the trail. She had been over the ground before
+and was not afraid to come back alone. Without saying anything of
+her intention, she appeared on the parade-ground, mounted, and met a
+chorus of protests.
+
+"It isn't safe for you to go alone," said Mrs. Franklin.
+
+"Please don't, Bee," added Katherine.
+
+"Really, Miss Manning," observed Doctor Norton, "it is not best for
+you to go."
+
+"I'm not afraid," replied the girl, with a toss of her head.
+
+The party she had determined to escort, individually and collectively,
+offered feeble objections, which were immediately waved aside. "I'm
+going," said Beatrice, "because I want to, and because it would break
+Queen's heart if we went back now."
+
+"What's all this fuss about?" inquired Ronald, sauntering up, and
+rubbing his eyes.
+
+The women explained all at once, in incoherent sentences; but Beatrice
+did not appear to hear any part of the conversation until he ended it
+by saying, "She can go if she wants to, because I'm going along."
+
+Beatrice bit her lip. "You are not," she said, in a tone of command.
+
+"Yes, I am," he laughed; "and, moreover, you are never to ride out of
+the gate of the Fort unless an officer goes with you."
+
+She turned and looked at him scornfully, and Ronald, still laughing,
+saluted. "A military order, Miss Manning."
+
+It was scarcely light when they started, with Beatrice leading the
+way. Queen's eager feet fairly flew, and the girl's pulses caught the
+exultant sense of life. The others fell far behind, and Beatrice
+doubled and crossed on the trail wherever it was possible.
+
+They had gone about six miles from the Fort when she reined in and
+waited for the others to come up, then made her adieux.
+
+"Why do you say good-bye?" asked Ronald.
+
+"Why, because I'm going back now."
+
+"Oh, are you coming back? I thought you were going to Fort Wayne."
+
+She made no reply, but watched the four riders as they turned a little
+away from the lake and went south-west over the prairie. A pack horse,
+Black Partridge, and four other Indians were following them.
+
+"What made you think I was going to Fort Wayne?" she asked.
+
+"Nothing, only you had such a good start. Besides, you live there,
+don't you?"
+
+"No," she said slowly, "I live here. I fought at Fort Wayne."
+
+"Indeed!" remarked Ronald, with polite interest. "Indians or soldiers?"
+
+The pink flush upon her face deepened. "Shall we go back, now?"
+
+"As you please, Miss Manning."
+
+She went ahead, leaving him to follow or not as he chose.
+
+"I wish Major was here," he called to her.
+
+"Why?" she asked, over her shoulder.
+
+"Because it's the same kind of a procession we had around the
+parade-ground, and I enjoyed that so much."
+
+Beatrice apparently had not heard, for she went on at the same
+leisurely pace. At her right, touched here and there with silver, the
+lake lay like a sheet of dusky pearl. Far in the east was spread the
+glowing tapestry of dawn, and the rising wind stirred the girl's hair
+faintly as she looked across the water, with the sunrise reflected on
+her face.
+
+Ronald saw her pure, proud profile, touched to exceeding beauty by the
+magic light of morning, and an unconscious, childish wistfulness in
+the lines of her mouth. A lump came into his throat and he swallowed
+hard. The morning was in his blood, and he had a quick sense of
+uplifting, as if his heart had suddenly found its wings.
+
+Then Beatrice turned still more toward him. "It's beautiful, isn't
+it?" she asked, softly.
+
+All of her harshness seemed to have fallen from her; she was radiant
+and exquisitely womanly in this new mood, and the boy's soul knelt in
+worship.
+
+"Why wouldn't you let me come alone?"
+
+"Because I didn't want you frightened," he answered.
+
+The dimple at the corner of her mouth was barely manifest as she said,
+demurely, "You should have stayed, then; for you are the one who
+frightened me."
+
+"I'm sorry," he said. "I told you that before."
+
+"Yes, I know." She sighed, and added, "It was awful, though, and I
+shall never forget it."
+
+"Neither shall I."
+
+He was beside her now, for the trail had widened, and he put his hand
+upon the small white one that held Queen's bridle.
+
+"That day," he said huskily, "you put your hand in mine,--when we met
+the Captain,--a little, cold hand."
+
+She nodded, but did not take her hand away. "I was dreadfully
+frightened then, and you saved me."
+
+His blood leaped in his veins. "That's nothing--I'd do more than that
+for you, any time. I had my reward before I had earned it."
+
+The girl's violet eyes opened wide. "I don't understand."
+
+"Have you forgotten that I had my arm around you, just for a minute? I
+have dreamed of it ever since--dear."
+
+For an instant she saw him as if he had been a young Greek god,
+strangely met in the fields of Arcady; then the glamour passed and he
+was only an awkward soldier in a shabby uniform. She cut Queen with
+her riding-whip and went furiously ahead, but a boyish, troubled face
+was close beside her.
+
+"Have I offended you?"
+
+Beatrice smiled with calm superiority. "You shouldn't say such
+things," she replied; "you're far too young."
+
+"Huh!" he retorted, with spirit, "I'm twenty-five!"
+
+"Twenty-five?" she repeated incredulously; "I don't believe it. Why,
+I'm twenty myself, and I never thought you were more than eighteen."
+
+She laughed wickedly as she saw him squirm. Through long experience
+she had found that shaft one of the most effective in her repertory,
+which was not by any means limited. More than once it had quenched an
+incipient declaration as effectually as if it had been a shower of
+cold water.
+
+They rode in silence till they reached the Fort. "Shall I take you
+across?" he asked.
+
+"No, thank you; I can go by myself, if there is no military order
+against it; but you may take Queen to the stables, if you like."
+
+She dismounted, taking no note of his proffered assistance, and went
+to the river without another word. He watched her until she landed,
+then turned away, leading Queen. "A rose, a little rose," he said to
+himself; "but, oh, the thorns!"
+
+When Beatrice arrived, she found the family in a state of high
+excitement. Mackenzie was just preparing to go over to the Fort and
+ask that a search party be sent out to look for her. He had surmised
+that she had returned to Fort Wayne until he found that none of her
+things were missing, and he received her explanation in stolid silence.
+
+"Why didn't you tell us, Bee?" asked Mrs. Mackenzie. "You gave us all
+a fright."
+
+"Dear Aunt Eleanor," she cooed, rubbing her soft cheek against Mrs.
+Mackenzie's, "I'm so sorry. I didn't know I was going till I got ready
+to start,--I never know,--and I did not dream that any one would care."
+
+Robert had been conducting a private search on his own account, and a
+tell-tale relief crossed his face when he came in and found her at the
+breakfast table.
+
+"Were you worried about me, Cousin Rob?"
+
+The deep, vibrant contralto voice thrilled him, but he told his lie
+well. "No," he answered, carelessly, "of course not. Why should I be?"
+
+The new mood of softness lasted all day. Beatrice did not stop to
+analyse, but she was dimly conscious that something strange had
+happened to her. At twilight she went out on the piazza, humming
+happily to herself, and Robert smiled at her as she came toward the
+open window of his room.
+
+He had an old sword in his hand and was rubbing the thin blade with a
+handkerchief. "What are you doing?" she asked, curiously.
+
+"Just cleaning this."
+
+"Is it yours?"
+
+"Yes, it is now; but it was my grandfather's." He straightened
+instinctively, as if in answer to some far-away bugle, and looked at
+her without seeming to see. "He fought at Lexington."
+
+His voice betrayed his pride of blood, and his nostrils dilated with
+a quick, inward breath. His hands moved lovingly along the keen
+blade--and then Beatrice humbled herself.
+
+"Cousin Rob," she began, impulsively, "I want to tell you something.
+I'm sorry and ashamed for----"
+
+Scarlet signals were flaming in her cheeks, and he interrupted
+her. "Say no more about it," he said generously; "we were all
+unaccountably excited, and at such times we say and do things that
+otherwise we would not. Forget about it."
+
+"I'll be glad to," she answered earnestly; but in her heart of hearts
+she knew she was not forgiven.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+A GLEAM AFAR
+
+
+As warm weather approached, the children grew restless under so much
+schooling, and Robert made Saturday a holiday. In order to help his
+uncle more efficiently, he was trying to learn the Indian tongue,
+but found it far more difficult than Greek and Latin, and made many
+ludicrous mistakes. Mackenzie was very patient with him, and Black
+Partridge made occasional comments and suggestions, being deeply
+flattered by the college man's desire to learn from him.
+
+The trader had told him of the great school in the East, where
+Forsyth had learned everything that was written down in books, and
+yet could not talk with the Indians, or make a fire by rubbing sticks
+together; and the implied superiority of the chief had its own subtle
+gratification.
+
+The women at the Fort were very fond of Beatrice, and she made daily
+visits there, but time began to hang heavily upon her hands. Without
+knowing why, she was restless and unhappy, and, after the manner of
+her sex, attributed it to some hidden illness of the body rather than
+the mind.
+
+"I feel as if I simply must go somewhere or do something," she said to
+Doctor Norton, in a vain effort to explain her unrest.
+
+He examined her pulse and tongue, then laughed at her. "You're all
+right," he said; "there's nothing on earth the matter with you."
+
+"There is, too," she contradicted. "I don't feel right and I need
+medicine."
+
+"Quinine?"
+
+She made a wry face. "No, I don't need that."
+
+"Sulphur and molasses?"
+
+Beatrice turned up her nose in high disdain. "Is that all you can
+think of?"
+
+"No," replied the Doctor, "I have other remedies, but I want to
+give you something that would please you. If you feel that you need
+medicine, my entire stock is at your service. I ask only for the right
+to supervise your selection, as we don't want you poisoned."
+
+They were sitting on the piazza, and the girl's laugh reached the
+schoolroom and set the teacher's heart to throbbing. He could steel
+himself against her smiles and her playful pouting, but when she
+laughed, he was lost.
+
+"I don't think you'd care much," observed Beatrice, "whether I was
+poisoned or not, just so you didn't have to give up any of your
+precious medicines. You're selfish--that's all."
+
+"What more can I do, Miss Manning? I've offered you all my worldly
+goods. Which bottle do you want?"
+
+"Thank you, I've decided not to rob you. I'll die, if I have to,
+without medical aid."
+
+"Some people prefer it," murmured Norton.
+
+"How did you happen to come here?" she asked abruptly.
+
+He started slightly, remembering the face that led him, like a star,
+from one frontier post to another, but he merely said: "An army
+surgeon has no choice. We go where we are sent by the powers that be."
+
+"I'd hate to be sent anywhere."
+
+"I believe you," replied the Doctor, smiling; "and if you were
+told you couldn't go anywhere that place would immediately become
+desirable."
+
+"Wonderful insight," commented Beatrice. "Or perhaps some one has told
+you?"
+
+"No, I don't always have to be told. I can see some things, you know."
+
+"That's what Katherine told me. She said you could see through
+anything or anybody, especially a woman. Your glance goes right
+through us and ties in a bow-knot behind. I can feel the strings
+dangling from my shoulders now."
+
+Robert came to the door, followed by the children, who were eager to
+get outdoors for the short recess they had every day. Beatrice had
+a little insight of her own, and had noted the change in Norton's
+face when Katherine was mentioned, and the quick, inquiring look in
+Robert's eyes as he greeted them both.
+
+"Forsyth," said the Doctor, "I'm going now, and I turn this refractory
+patient over to you. She needs to get outdoors and walk till she
+drops--it's the only cure for impudence. Will you see that she does
+it?"
+
+"Certainly, if she will go with me."
+
+"I'll go," put in Beatrice, "if I have to take medicine."
+
+They watched the Doctor until he started across the river. "Perhaps,"
+said Robert, "you'd rather some one else would go with you. If so, it
+can be easily arranged."
+
+"Now, Cousin Rob," said the girl, coaxingly, "don't be horrid to me.
+You're the only cousin I have, except Katherine and the infants; and
+as long as I'm here you'd better make the best of me."
+
+His heart suddenly contracted. "Are you going away?"
+
+"I can't," she laughed. "I have nowhere to go."
+
+Robert smiled curiously. "When do you want to go, and where?"
+
+"Saturday morning," she replied; "to the woods, after flowers."
+
+"Very well," he said, quietly, turning away.
+
+To one of them the days passed slowly, but on Saturday, when Beatrice
+expressed surprise at the rapid flight of time, Forsyth unhesitatingly
+chimed in. She looked at him narrowly when she thought he did not know
+it, and put him down as a self-absorbed prig.
+
+She was at odds with herself when they started, but it was one of
+those rare mornings which May sets like a jewel upon the rosary of
+the year. They walked north along the lake shore, and, since silence
+seemed to suit her, he wisely said nothing.
+
+Gradually peace crept into her heart, and as they approached the woods
+they turned to the west, where white blossoms were set on thorny
+boughs and budded maples were crimson with new leaves.
+
+"You were good to bring me here," she said gratefully; "it seems like
+an enchanted way."
+
+"I am glad to give you pleasure," he replied conventionally.
+
+The ground was still hidden under the brown leaves of October, that
+rustled gently with a passing breeze or echoed the fairy tread of the
+Little People of the Forest, playing hide-and-seek in the wake of
+Spring. As Beatrice walked ahead of him, it seemed to Forsyth that she
+belonged to the woods, as truly as did the nymphs and dryads of old.
+
+Buttercups scattered garish gold around them, and beyond, among the
+trees, the wild geranium rose on its slender stalk, making a phantom
+bit of colour against the background of dead leaves. Between the mossy
+stumps budded mandrakes were huddled closely together, afraid to bloom
+till others had led the way. Beatrice looked around her and drew a
+long breath, then gently stroked a satin bud upon a bare stalk of
+hickory.
+
+"Why don't you pick something?" asked Robert, with a laugh. "That's
+what we came for, isn't it?"
+
+"No, I can't pick things. I feel as if I were hurting them. Suppose
+you lived here in this lovely place and a giant came along and broke
+you off at the waist to take your head home with him--how do you
+suppose you'd feel?"
+
+"I don't think I'd feel anything after the break. Besides, that's not
+a fair hypothesis. There is no real analogy."
+
+"Hy-poth-e-sis," repeated Beatrice, looking at him, mischievously;
+"did I pronounce it right?"
+
+"Of course--why?"
+
+"Because," she answered, with her eyes dancing, "it's a nice word and
+I'd like to learn it. I want to say it to Doctor Norton. Some of his
+words are as long at that, but they're not nearly so complicated, and
+I yearn to excel in his own specialty."
+
+The girl's mock reverence for his learning irritated him unspeakably,
+and he closed his lips in a thin, tight line.
+
+"Cousin Rob," she said, putting her hand on his arm, and with
+bewildering kindness in her tone, "can't you take me just as I am?"
+
+The temptation to take her, just as she was, into his arms, made him
+draw back a step or two. "I always make a point of that," he said,
+clearing his throat.
+
+Then a vista opened before them, which might have been a field of
+Paradise. Across the plain, where the dead goldenrod of Autumn still
+lingered, there were white blossoms on invisible branches, set
+against the turquoise sky, as still as stars of frost. It was as
+though a cloud of white butterflies had paused for an instant, with
+every dusty wing longing for flight.
+
+Great white triliums bloomed in clusters farther on, with here and
+there a red one, lonely as a lost child. Far to the right was a little
+hollow filled with wild phlox, shading from white to deepest lavender,
+and breathing the haunting fragrance which no one ever forgets.
+
+"Let's go to the lake," she said.
+
+Tall bluffs rose on either side where they turned eastward, with
+triliums and dog-tooth violets within easy reach, and a robin's cheery
+chirp was answered by another far away. Slanting sunbeams came like
+arrows of light into the shadow of the woods, and at the shore line
+was an expanse of sand which shone like silver under the white light
+of noon.
+
+"Why do you stand there?" asked Beatrice. "Why don't you sit down?"
+
+"I was just looking at something."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Come here--perhaps you can see."
+
+She strained her eyes in the direction he indicated, but
+unsuccessfully. "I don't see anything," she said; "what is it like?"
+
+"I don't know. It's something shiny, but it isn't a bird, because it
+doesn't move."
+
+"Birds aren't shiny, anyway," objected Beatrice. "Let's eat our lunch."
+
+"I'm willing, for it's getting heavy, and I'd rather carry it inside."
+
+Beatrice laughed until the tears rolled down her cheeks. "That's the
+first time I ever heard you say anything funny," she said, wiping her
+eyes. "Mr. Ronald is always saying funny things."
+
+A dubious smile crossed Robert's face, and there was a long silence.
+"I wish you'd show me that shiny thing again, Cousin Rob," she said at
+length; "I'm interested in it."
+
+"You didn't seem to be."
+
+"That's because I was hungry," she explained. "I feel better now, and
+by the time we've finished our lunch I'll be absorbingly interested in
+it."
+
+Robert stood on the sand, in the same place as before, and saw the
+silvery gleam again. Then she took his place and saw it, too. "Why,"
+she said, "isn't it queer? Do you think it's the sun on a birch?"
+
+"No, it's too high, and birches don't often grow on the very edge of
+the shore."
+
+"That isn't the edge."
+
+"Well, it's near it. The light just hangs in the air. There doesn't
+seem to be anything behind it. I've often seen stray gleams in the
+woods and tried to find them, but I never found anything. It's a
+daylight will-o'-the-wisp."
+
+"Let's follow this one," suggested Beatrice.
+
+They walked along the hard sand, close to the water, stopping every
+few steps to find the gleam. Sometimes it was only a thread of light,
+detached and unrelated to anything around it, then in other places it
+was a white glare, like the reflection thrown from a mirror.
+
+Often they lost it, but found it again a little farther on. Beatrice
+was tired but determined, and kept on for what seemed miles. Then
+they stopped several times without finding it. "Let's go up into the
+woods," she said; "perhaps we'll see it again from there."
+
+They climbed the steep bluff of sand, with the aid of bushes and
+cotton wood saplings, and for an instant caught the light again, then
+it vanished. The girl was pale, and Robert feared they had come too
+far.
+
+"We'll go back," he said, "as soon as you rest for a little while. Why
+didn't you tell me you were tired?"
+
+"Because I'm not," she retorted. "I'm willing to rest a little while,
+but I'm going to find it."
+
+They sat down under the spreading branches of an elm for a few
+minutes, then, in spite of his expostulations, Beatrice started north
+again. "We can walk till midnight," he pleaded, "without finding it,
+and it's foolish, anyway."
+
+"No, it isn't; see there!"
+
+In the air, between the bluff and the lake, hung a shimmering thread
+of light which seemed close by, and all at once he became as eager as
+she. They walked rapidly for a few moments, then Beatrice stopped.
+
+"Why," she said, in a high key, "it's a house!"
+
+"Be careful," warned Robert, "we'd better go back."
+
+"I'm not going back till I see. I've come too far!"
+
+A little farther on, they came to it. Set far back into the bluff, so
+that only the face of it was visible, was a little one-roomed cabin,
+built of logs. The door was open, but the place was empty, as Beatrice
+discovered. "Come in," she said hospitably.
+
+"We'd better go back," said Forsyth, warningly. "Come!"
+
+"I will, in just a minute."
+
+She took a long look about the room, then came out. From the top of
+the cabin, which projected only a foot or so from the bluff, and
+suspended from a whittled branch not quite weather-worn, hung a silver
+cross, fully eight inches high, with a wondrously moulded figure of
+the Christ stretched upon it.
+
+Robert's eyes followed hers, and for a few minutes neither spoke.
+"That's what we saw," she murmured, in a low tone; "that's the light
+that led us here--the sun upon the cross!"
+
+"Come," said Robert, firmly, taking her by the arm.
+
+Reluctantly she let him lead her away, and they turned south, keeping
+close to the lake shore, but out of the sand.
+
+"Who lives there?" she asked.
+
+"Why, I don't know--how should I?"
+
+"It was neat inside, and there was blue clay and chips in the cracks,
+just as there is at home. There was a fireplace, too, but I didn't see
+any chimney."
+
+"There was a chimney, though, of some dark-coloured stone. It looked
+like a stump on the bluff. I noticed it while you were inside."
+
+"There's no dark-coloured stone around here."
+
+"Then it must have been limestone darkened with mud. I didn't get near
+enough to see."
+
+"Somebody lives there," said Beatrice. "There was a narrow bed, with
+a blue-and-white patchwork quilt upon it, and two chairs made out of
+barrels, and a little table and shelves,--do you think Indians live
+there?"
+
+"It's possible. Some of them may be more civilised than the rest
+and prefer to live in a house--in the Winter, at least," he added,
+remembering the panes of glass in the front of the house, either side
+of the door.
+
+"It's queer that a cross like that should be there."
+
+"Stolen," he suggested promptly, "from some Catholic church in the
+wilderness."
+
+"I'll tell you what," she said, after a long silence; "let's say
+nothing about it to any one--just keep it a secret for the present.
+What do you say?"
+
+"I'm willing." The idea of a secret with his pretty cousin was far
+from unpleasant to Robert.
+
+"Because, if the others knew, some of the soldiers would go there--Mr.
+Ronald would be the first one. Besides, I've noticed that if you
+really want to find out about anything, you always can, though it
+takes time. I'd rather we'd find out by ourselves, wouldn't you?"
+
+Robert thought he would.
+
+"I think," she continued, "that some of the Indians live there, as
+you said, and that the cross was stolen and hung over the door for an
+ornament. Perhaps Black Partridge lives there--he seems to know more
+than the rest."
+
+"Yes; that's possible. Anyhow, we'll find out without asking
+anybody,--is that it?"
+
+"That's a bargain. Whoever lives there doesn't want to be bothered,
+for you can't see the house at all except from the shore; and in
+Summer, when the canoes are passing, it must be pretty well hidden by
+the saplings and the undergrowth on the ledge in front of it. There's
+just one place there where anybody can get down--a steep little path,
+worn smooth."
+
+"You saw a great deal in a few minutes, didn't you?" asked Robert,
+admiringly.
+
+"Of course," she answered, with a toss of her head. "A woman can see
+more in one minute than a man can see in sixty--didn't you know that?"
+
+"I didn't, but I do now."
+
+Silver-winged gulls glistened in the sun for a moment, then plunged
+into the cool softness below. A rabbit track wound a leisurely way
+across the sand and disappeared at the bluff. Down a ravine came a
+tiny stream, murmuring sleepily all along its way to the lake.
+
+Beatrice sighed and her eyes drooped. "Take me home," she said.
+
+The blue of the water grew deeper, then changed to grey. The white
+clouds turned to rose and gold, touched with royal purple, and the
+wings of the gulls no longer shone. A bluejay with slow-beating wings
+sank to his nest in a lofty maple, and, somewhere, a robin chirped
+mournfully, as if he, too, were tired.
+
+At last they came to the edge of the woods and saw the house, with the
+four tall poplars at the gate, the shimmering gold of sunset upon the
+river, and the Fort beyond. The exquisite peace of the woods had been
+like that of another sphere. There was a twittering of little birds in
+swaying nests, a sudden chill, a shadow, and a mist. The fairy patter
+was hurried and hushed, the rustling leaves were quiet, and she leaned
+wearily upon his arm.
+
+"Tired?" he asked tenderly.
+
+"Yes," she answered, smiling back at him, "but happy. Thank you for a
+perfect day."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+A JUNE DAY
+
+
+On a warm morning in June, Beatrice took her despised sewing under an
+unwilling arm and went over to Mrs. Howard's. Mrs. Franklin was there
+also, and they all sat on the porch, under the impression that it was
+cooler there than indoors.
+
+"I wish you girls would show me how this goes," pleaded Beatrice.
+She was making herself a gown of pink calico, and encountering new
+difficulties at every turn.
+
+"Where's your pattern," asked Katherine.
+
+"I haven't any map," returned Beatrice; "I lost it. I sawed this out
+by an old one."
+
+"It looks as if it had been sawed," laughed Mrs. Franklin. "Why didn't
+you ask Mrs. Mackenzie to help you cut it?"
+
+"Because I didn't want Aunt Eleanor to be ashamed of me."
+
+"She doesn't mind us," put in Katherine.
+
+"Stop teasing," commanded Beatrice, "and show me how to put the thing
+together. Which piece goes where?"
+
+Mrs. Franklin took the skirt and Katherine went to work at the waist,
+pinning and basting firmly, so that there could be no mistake in the
+result. Beatrice leaned lazily against the side of the house and
+watched them admiringly, praising their skill now and then in accents
+suspiciously soft.
+
+"She's been taking lessons from George," remarked Mrs. Franklin.
+"That's the way he gets things done."
+
+"Speaking of angels----" said Katherine.
+
+Ronald crossed the parade-ground and joined the group. "What's that
+thing?" he asked, contemptuously indicating the pink calico.
+
+"It's clothes," replied Beatrice, with spirit; "don't you wish you
+were going to have new ones?"
+
+The Ensign's answering laugh had a hollow sound to it, for the shabby
+clothing at Fort Dearborn was a sore spot with both officers and men,
+even though new and proper raiment was said to be on the way.
+
+"You might make me some," he suggested, "and I'll promise to
+encourage you while you do it."
+
+"No, thank you," she returned loftily; "you'd be in the way."
+
+"I expect I'm in the way now," he observed, making himself more
+comfortable against the pillar of the porch. "When needles fly,
+women's tongues fly faster; when women sew, they rip their husbands to
+pieces."
+
+A faint flush came into Mrs. Franklin's face as she bent over her work.
+
+"I'll wager, now," continued Ronald, "that when you saw me coming, you
+had to change the subject. Mrs. Franklin was explaining the vagaries
+of the Captain, Mrs. Howard was telling what she was obliged to put up
+with, and Miss Manning was talking about me."
+
+The implication sharpened the edge of the girl's tongue. "You ought
+to be very glad you're not married," she said sweetly; "and it goes
+without saying that you never will be. Nobody on earth would have you!"
+
+"Don't quarrel, children," put in Katherine, hastily. "Here comes
+Ralph."
+
+The Lieutenant sat down opposite Ronald and wiped his forehead.
+"Lord!" he exclaimed, "isn't it hot!"
+
+"Get a little closer to Miss Manning," advised the Ensign. "She's in
+an icy mood this morning."
+
+Beatrice and Howard smiled at each other understandingly. "Be careful
+what you say," warned Mrs. Franklin; "they've decided that they're
+cousins."
+
+"Yes," replied the Lieutenant, "we've got it all settled. We're
+step-cousins-in-law once removed. Want to go for a ride, Ronald?
+Forsyth and I are going a little way down the trail."
+
+"Which trail?"
+
+"Fort Wayne, of course."
+
+"Yes, I'll go," said the Ensign, rising; "it can't be any hotter on
+horseback than it is here."
+
+When the three men rode off, Beatrice pouted. "Why didn't they ask me
+to go?"
+
+"I guess they're going swimming," returned Mrs. Franklin, "for Mr.
+Forsyth had some towels."
+
+"Here's your waist," said Katherine; "did you shrink the goods?"
+
+"Did I what?"
+
+"Shrink it. Wash it, you know."
+
+"Indeed I didn't. Why should I wash it when it's new?"
+
+"Here's your skirt," said Mrs. Franklin. "You'd better make a narrow
+hem and run a tuck or two above it so you can let it down. I'm going
+home now, because Wallace is all alone. Good-bye."
+
+Beatrice went to work gingerly, and Mrs. Howard watched her for a few
+moments, then took pity. "I'll help you," she said, "I have nothing
+else to do."
+
+The work progressed rapidly, and they went into the house frequently
+to fit the gown. "I can wear it to-night, I believe," said the girl,
+delightedly. "I didn't know sewing was so easy!"
+
+"Don't be too hopeful--there's lots to do yet."
+
+Noon came on apace and the heat increased. Shimmering waves hung over
+the parade-ground and vibrated visibly. There was not a tree within
+the enclosure of the Fort, and the flag hung limply from the staff,
+stirring only when the hot wind from the south-west swept over the
+sandy plains.
+
+Doctor Norton came out, looked around the deserted Fort, and crossed
+to Lieutenant Howard's.
+
+"Where are you going?" asked Beatrice, indicating an Indian basket he
+was carrying.
+
+"I'm going to the woods--primarily, to find a cool place, and,
+secondarily, to gather roots and simples. Some of my medicines have
+given out and I'm going to make a new supply if I can find the proper
+plants."
+
+Katherine was sewing busily and took no part in the conversation, but
+there was a scarlet signal on either cheek.
+
+"If you get enough of anything," said Beatrice, "the poor souls under
+your care can have some of it, can't they?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"What do you expect to get around here?"
+
+"Oh, lots of things. Wild ginger, for instance--would you like some of
+that?"
+
+"Don't care for it," she answered conclusively.
+
+"Would you like a concoction of May apples?"
+
+"I believe I would--it sounds well."
+
+"My dear girl," said Norton, seriously, "the root of the mandrake is
+such a deadly poison that the Indians give it to their enemies."
+
+"I must remember that," murmured the girl. "I may need it for mine."
+
+The Doctor laughed, then turned to Mrs. Howard. "Are you well?" he
+asked anxiously.
+
+Katherine's eyes met his. "Yes," she answered, but her voice was
+scarcely audible. There was an uneasy moment for both of them, then he
+went away.
+
+Beatrice took up her sewing again and saw that Katherine's hands were
+trembling. "He's an abrupt person," she said; "don't you think so?"
+
+"Yes," answered the other, in a low tone.
+
+"He's lovable in a way, though, don't you think so? I wonder why he
+has never married?"
+
+Katherine started and her lips moved, but there was no sound. Beatrice
+looked into her face for an illuminating instant--then she knew.
+
+"Katherine!" she cried, in horror.
+
+Mrs. Howard dropped her work and fled into the house, trying to lock
+the door, but the girl was too quick for her.
+
+"Katherine, dear!" cried Beatrice, with her arms around the trembling
+woman, "don't be afraid of me! You poor child, don't you know a friend
+when you see one?"
+
+"Friend?" repeated Katherine, in a rush of unwilling tears; "I have
+none!"
+
+"Yes you have, dear; now listen to me. I'm your friend, and there's
+nothing in the world that could make me anything else. Tell me, and
+let me help you!"
+
+The words brought back the memory of another day, when the winter
+snows lay deep upon the ground, and a man's voice, dangerously tender,
+said the same thing.
+
+"There's nothing wrong, Bee--don't, oh, don't think that of me!"
+
+"I couldn't, dear--no one could!"
+
+The curtains were drawn and the house was dark and comparatively cool.
+Within that soothing shadow, Katherine gathered courage to face the
+girl, and, little by little, hint at the tempest raging in her soul.
+
+It was the old, common story of a proud woman with a hungry heart,
+denied love and sympathy where she had a right to expect it, and
+tempted unwillingly, but tempted none the less.
+
+"Men are beasts!" exclaimed Beatrice, angrily.
+
+"Don't say that, Bee! Ralph has a great deal to bother him, but I
+can't help wishing he were different. If he were only as he used
+to be! If I knew, or even thought he loved me--if he would try to
+understand me--if he wouldn't always misjudge me--but now----"
+
+"You're brave enough to fight it out and win, Kit--I know you are!"
+
+"I hope so; but what hurts me most is the fear that he--that he
+knows--that I--that I care--and pities me!"
+
+"Who? Ralph?"
+
+"No--the--the----"
+
+"I understand," said Beatrice, quickly; "you mustn't let him know.
+Besides, you don't really care. Women often mistake loneliness for
+something else--don't you think so?"
+
+"Perhaps. Oh, if he would only go away, where I would never see him
+again--if he only would--sometime, in the long years, things would
+come right between Ralph and me!"
+
+"You'll have to wait, Kit. Life is made up of waiting, for women,
+and it's the hardest thing for us to do. Oh, I know," continued
+Beatrice, with a harsh laugh; "I fought something out myself once,
+but I won. It was hard, but I did it, and I'd do it again--I wouldn't
+be coward enough to run away. When things hurt you, you don't have to
+let anybody know. You can shut your lips tight, and if you bite your
+tongue hard it keeps back the tears. I always pretend I'm a rock, with
+the waves beating against me. Let it hurt inside, if it wants to--you
+don't have to let anybody see!"
+
+The girl's fine courage insensibly strengthened the woman. "I'm so
+glad you know," she sighed.
+
+"I'm glad, too. I'm going now, Kit, and I wish you'd lie down a little
+while. Don't forget I'm your friend, and I'll always help you when I
+can, and anyhow, I'll always try."
+
+It was characteristic of Beatrice that she went home without any
+demonstrative farewell. She had been gentle, sympathetic, and
+genuinely sorry for her cousin, but there was an inner hardness
+somewhere which the other felt.
+
+Overwrought by emotion, Katherine slept for hours, and when she
+awoke a cool breeze had risen from the lake and was moving her white
+curtains to and fro. Dull sorrow was gnawing at her heart, but the
+stab was gone.
+
+She dressed and went out, without any particular object in view. The
+loneliness of the house depressed her, and she felt that she must get
+away from it; yet she did not wish to talk to any one.
+
+As she went toward the gate the Captain's wife met her. "Where are you
+going?" she asked.
+
+"To--to the little lad," faltered Katherine.
+
+"Oh," said the other, quickly, turning away as if she had been hurt.
+For a moment the childless woman envied the other her grave.
+
+Half a mile from the Fort, in a hollow near the river, was a little
+mound, marked only by a rude slab of limestone and the willow that
+grew above it. At the sight of it her eyes filled.
+
+"Oh, Baby," she sobbed, pressing her face against the cold turf above
+him, "I wish I was down there beside you, as still and as dreamless
+as you! You don't know what it means--you never would have known! Oh,
+I'd rather be a stone than a woman with a heart!"
+
+"Katherine!" cried a man's voice beside her; "Katherine!" Norton's arm
+lifted her from the grave and held her close. "Dear heart," he said,
+"is the world unkind?"
+
+She drew away from him, but he still held her cold hand in his. "My
+heart aches for you, Katherine--can't you tell me?"
+
+"You never lost a child," she whispered, clutching at the straw.
+
+"That is true, but I have lost far more. I----" He stopped and bit
+his lips upon the words that struggled for utterance. "Come away," he
+said, gently.
+
+He led her to the bank of the stream, where they sat down under a
+tree. She leaned against it, unconscious that he still held her hand.
+
+There was a long silence, in which she regained, in some measure, her
+self-control. "I can't think what's wrong with me," she sighed. "I've
+cried more in the last six months than in all my life before. I'm not
+the crying kind--naturally, that is."
+
+"Don't think about that, for nature knows a great deal more than we
+do. Cry all you want to, and thank God you have no grief beyond the
+reach of tears."
+
+"Beyond--tears?"
+
+"Yes; there is another kind, which I am glad you do not know. It cuts
+and burns and stings till it is the very refinement of torture, and
+there is no veil of mist to blind the eyes."
+
+She looked at him curiously. "You----?"
+
+"Yes," he answered, with his head bowed; "that is the kind of grief I
+know the best."
+
+"I--I'm sorry," she said, stirred to pity.
+
+"Why should you be sorry for me?" he asked, with a rare smile. "There
+are countless joys in the world, but the griefs are few and old. The
+humblest of us can find new happiness, but there has been no increase
+of sorrow since the world was first made. There is a fixed and
+unvariable quantity of it, and we take turns bearing it--that's all.
+Nothing comes to any of us that some one before us has not met like a
+soldier, bravely and well."
+
+"You are strong, but I have no strength."
+
+"There are different kinds of strength, Katherine, and of these the
+one most to be prized is what we call endurance, for lack of a better
+word. One can always bear a little more, for we live only one day at a
+time, and to-morrow may bring us new gifts of which we do not dream."
+
+Lengthening shadows lay on the river and the sun hung low in the west,
+but they talked on. She forgot everything but the peace of the moment,
+which came to her sore heart like a benediction. Without knowing it,
+she was very near to happiness then.
+
+The Doctor's voice was soothing, as if he were talking to a child, and
+she did not dream that he was fighting the exquisite danger of her
+nearness with all the power at his command. At last she leaned forward
+with her eyes shining, and put her hand on his. "Thank you," she said,
+softly, "for helping me!"
+
+The man's blood leaped in his veins, and he sprang to his feet. He
+walked back and forth on the bank of the river for some time before he
+dared trust himself to speak.
+
+"Your happiness is very near to me," he said, trying hard to keep his
+voice even, "you must always remember that. And for me, it is enough
+to be near you, even if----"
+
+She stretched out her hands and he lifted her to her feet. "I must
+go," she said.
+
+"Yes, you must go, and go alone. I will stay here until you have had
+time to get back."
+
+The deference to circumstances jarred upon her and she did not answer.
+Her hat was lying by the child's grave, and as he picked it up for
+her, she said: "Why, there are violets all around. I never saw those
+before."
+
+"Didn't you?" he asked diffidently; "I thought you came often."
+
+"No," she said, in a low voice, "not very often. Who put them there?"
+
+He lowered his eyes at her question, and then she understood. "Did you
+plant flowers on my baby's grave?" she cried.
+
+There was a tense moment before he dared to look at her. "Yes," he
+answered, slowly, "because----"
+
+They were standing face to face, with the little grave between them,
+and the woman's heart quivered with a strange and terrible joy. There
+was no need of words, for, all at once, she knew why, during the four
+years of her marriage, he had followed her from one post to another.
+She saw a new meaning in his sympathy when the little lad died and her
+husband blamed her so bitterly; moreover, she knew that her battle was
+with herself, not him, for the unyielding edge of Honour lay between
+them, and, even if she would, he would not let her cross.
+
+For his part he, too, was uplifted, because without words she
+understood, and answered with love in her eyes. Undisguised and
+unashamed, her heart leaped toward him, but he stood with his hands
+clenched so tightly that the nails cut deep into the flesh.
+
+Neither had heard nor seen, but she felt an alien presence, and
+turned. Not six feet away from them stood Lieutenant Howard, with his
+face ashen grey. He had an armful of flowers--purple flags and yellow
+lilies from the marsh and clover from the fields.
+
+When he knew that she saw him, he came to the grave, stooped, and put
+the flowers upon it. The Doctor stepped back, but Howard took no note
+of him whatever. "It is a strange place for a tryst," he said, with
+forced calmness. "Katherine, will you come home?"
+
+They went all the way to the Fort without speaking, and when they
+reached their own house, he stood aside for her to enter, then
+followed her in and locked the door.
+
+Trembling with weakness, he sat down and drew her toward him.
+"Katherine, have you anything to say to me?"
+
+Strangely enough, she was not afraid, and the terrible joy was still
+surging in her heart.
+
+"Only this, Ralph--that you have wronged me and misjudged me; but
+you know this--that I never told you a lie in my life. As long as I
+bear your name I will bear it rightly; while I call myself your wife,
+you may know that I am faithful to you and to myself. That is all I
+have to say, but for your sake and my own--and for the little lad's
+sake--be just a little kind to me!"
+
+Her voice broke at the last words, but he rushed past her and went
+out. From the window of her room she saw him pacing back and forth on
+the plains beyond the Fort, fighting his battle with himself. She knew
+she had hurt him past all healing and pitied him subconsciously; the
+dominant knowledge warred with her instincts.
+
+When he came in to supper, his face was still pale, but his voice was
+even and controlled. He ate but little, and they talked commonplaces
+until afterward.
+
+"Katherine," he said, "I remove the embargo; you may have--him--or any
+of your other friends at the house as often as you please. I will not
+force my wife to make clandestine appointments outside!" He laughed
+harshly and went out, but, though she waited for him till long past
+midnight, he did not return.
+
+For her there was no rest. Pity, shame, fear, pride, and ecstasy
+struggled for mastery in her soul. The sound of moving waters
+murmured through the night with insistent repetition as the waves
+came to the shore. In the dark hours before dawn she saw a man,
+indistinctly, walking on the prairie, with his hands clasped behind
+him and his head bowed.
+
+At first she thought it was Ralph, but, straining her eyes through the
+darkness, she saw that it was the other, and her heart beat hard with
+pain.
+
+"Dear God," she murmured brokenly, "oh, give him peace, and help me to
+be true!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+IN THE NORTH WOODS
+
+
+"Come on, Doc," said Ronald.
+
+"Where?" asked Norton, lazily.
+
+"Across the river, of course; don't you see the mob over there?"
+
+The large yard in front of the Mackenzie house was fairly well filled
+with people when they arrived. Mr. and Mrs. Mackenzie, Forsyth,
+Chandonnais, Lieutenant and Mrs. Howard, and Mrs. Franklin were
+standing behind Beatrice, who was painting in water colours. Black
+Partridge, in all the glory of his feather head-dress and his most
+gorgeous blanket, was posing for his picture. The chief endeavoured to
+preserve the appearance of calm, but in reality he was greatly excited.
+
+Doctor Norton and the Lieutenant exchanged cool salutations, and
+Katherine was scarcely more cordial. All three of them had decided
+to ignore past events, but there was an element of difficulty in the
+situation, none the less.
+
+"How do you suppose Birdie can wear a blanket in July?" asked Ronald.
+"I should think he'd be roasted to a turn."
+
+"It's his best blanket," explained Beatrice, selecting another brush,
+"and he wants it in his picture."
+
+"I'd rather my clothes would be painted separately on a day like
+this," murmured Ronald.
+
+"I didn't know you had more than one suit," remarked the artist, with
+a flourish of her brush; "you can't properly say 'clothes.'"
+
+"Well, 'clo', then," retorted the Ensign, "if it suits you better; but
+some day you'll see me in a brand-new uniform."
+
+"It's what I'm living for," answered Beatrice. "Somebody get me some
+more water."
+
+A dozen hands were outstretched, but it was Forsyth who secured the
+cup, and he was rewarded with a radiant smile when he returned.
+
+"Ain't that smart, now!" exclaimed the trader, delightedly, as the
+unmistakable features of Black Partridge appeared upon the paper.
+Chandonnais was grinning broadly, and even Ronald and the Lieutenant
+condescended to praise.
+
+"To think that we've had a real artist here for months and never knew
+it!" exclaimed Mrs. Franklin. "Why didn't you let us know about it
+before?"
+
+"Because," answered the girl, "as an old lady at Fort Mackinac would
+have said, I didn't 'feel to paint.'"
+
+Mrs. Mackenzie was restraining the children with difficulty, for
+each and every one of them yearned to take a brush and assist in the
+delicate task. At last she took the baby and went into the house,
+leaving Maria Indiana to Katherine, and the two older children to
+their father and Forsyth.
+
+"There," said Beatrice, with a critical squint at her work; "it's
+almost done."
+
+Against a background of delicate green, the Indian, in his scarlet
+blanket, stood boldly and properly pictured. The colouring was very
+good and she had caught the spirit of the pose.
+
+"Let me show it to him," suggested Robert.
+
+She was wiping her brushes and did not see the expression of dismay
+on the chief's face when he beheld his counterfeit presentment, but
+she saw him snatch the picture out of Robert's hand and heard his
+indistinct mutterings when he fled like a deer.
+
+"Well, what do you think of that!" she gasped. "What was he saying,
+Uncle John?"
+
+"I didn't catch it, Bee--did you, Rob?"
+
+Forsyth had made a little progress in the language, but had understood
+only a word or two. "It was something about the 'Great Spirit,' I
+think, but I didn't get the connection."
+
+"That's gone, anyhow," said the Doctor. "You meant it for him, didn't
+you?"
+
+"Why, yes, eventually; but it wasn't done."
+
+"It was done enough for him, evidently," observed Ronald; "he seems to
+prefer his pictures a little rare. Are you ready to make mine now?"
+
+"Indeed, I'm not going to paint you. I'm going in to help Aunt
+Eleanor."
+
+Mrs. Howard followed her. The Doctor offered to row Mrs. Franklin
+across the river, Chan disappeared, and the Lieutenant went over to
+the Agency House with Mackenzie. Ronald looked at Forsyth and laughed.
+
+"Everybody's moving," he said. "Let's go over and get Major and go
+swimming."
+
+"You go after Major," suggested Robert, "and I'll get some towels of
+Aunt Eleanor. We'll go up north."
+
+Ronald embarked in a pirogue and Forsyth went into the house. "I don't
+see where it's gone to," Mrs. Mackenzie was saying. "Are you sure you
+haven't it, Katherine?"
+
+"What have you lost, Aunt Eleanor?" he asked.
+
+"Why, my blue-and-white patchwork quilt--a white one with blue stars
+in it. It was washed and put away clean last Fall, and now it's gone."
+
+Beatrice was looking at him in a way that puzzled him. "I'm sure I
+haven't seen it," he hastened to say. "Am I suspected?"
+
+"Of course not," returned Mrs. Mackenzie; "but it's a strange thing to
+happen right here in the house. I wish you'd go up to the loft and see
+if it's on Chan's bed--he may have taken it by mistake."
+
+Forsyth climbed the ladder to the empty loft, but no quilt was to
+be seen. The rude shakedown on which the half-breed slept had only
+blankets for covering. He looked around curiously, for he had never
+been in the loft before, but he did not envy Chan his quarters. There
+was only one window in the desolate place, and that scarcely deserved
+the name, for it was merely a small aperture in the front of the
+house. The floor was comparatively clean, but there was a pile of
+rubbish in one corner, which he promptly investigated. He had hardly
+expected to find the quilt, but he was surprised when he discovered
+a ham, a side of bacon, and a large piece of dark blue calico hidden
+under the nondescript heap.
+
+"I expect he gets hungry in the night," thought Robert, remembering
+Chan's ferocious appetite.
+
+"No quilt there, Aunt Eleanor," he said, when he went down. "May I
+have some towels?"
+
+"The Indians must have taken it," she sighed, "but I don't know when
+nor how."
+
+Beatrice was in a brown study, but Robert, even though he was gifted
+with rather more than the average man's discernment, did not know what
+she was thinking about. Remembering the conversation he had overheard
+the night of the barbecue, he had thought it likely that the cross
+over the door of the house in the woods had been stolen from the
+half-breed by an Indian, or else, after the manner of others somewhat
+higher in the social scale, Chan had taken unto himself an Indian wife.
+
+Except as it concerned Beatrice, the matter did not interest him, and
+he forbore to tell her what he knew, lest the "secret" between them
+should come to an end. Her curiosity about the mysterious cabin had
+increased rather than diminished; but Robert had refused to go with
+her when she wanted to investigate it again, and she did not quite
+dare to go alone.
+
+Ronald was waiting for him outside, and the dog trotted along beside
+them in high spirits, lavishing moist caresses upon his master, and
+punctuating his expressions of affection with exuberant barks.
+
+"Down, Major, down!" commanded Ronald, "or I'll throw you into the
+lake."
+
+The shadowy coolness of the woods was invigorating, and they walked
+on, heedless of the distance. "When we find a deep place," said
+Forsyth, "we'll dive into it from the bluff."
+
+"No we won't," returned Ronald, conclusively. "I knew a fool once who
+broke his neck in just that way. No loss to the world particularly,
+but unpleasant. They'd miss us mightily at the Fort."
+
+When Robert saw that they were approaching the neighbourhood of the
+cabin, he said that he was tired.
+
+"So 'm I," answered the other. "Let's sit down and get cooled off
+before we go in."
+
+Major was far ahead, ranging back and forth eagerly in pursuit of some
+small animal that had escaped him. "Something has happened," continued
+Ronald; "guess!"
+
+"Couldn't guess--what is it?"
+
+"That's right," laughed the Ensign, slapping his knee; "nobody could
+guess. We've actually got our new uniforms!"
+
+"You don't say so! Where are they?"
+
+"At Fort Wayne."
+
+"Oh, you haven't got them, then?"
+
+"No, but we've almost got 'em. Some of the boys are going this
+week sometime, as soon as the Captain can make up his mind to
+send 'em. I wish I could go, too, but they'll need nearly all the
+horses--fifty-eight new uniforms, you know. I've thought seriously of
+borrowing Miss Manning's horse and taking the trip--I need a change."
+
+"She wouldn't let you have it."
+
+"I hadn't intended to ask her," explained Ronald. "Lord, but she'd be
+mad! I'd give a pretty penny to see her when she found out I'd done
+it! I'd really rather see her good and mad than to take the trip, but
+I can't do both. If I have one pleasure, you'll have the other."
+
+"I'd rather not, thank you--I'd much prefer to be out of the way of
+the storm. I hope you won't do it."
+
+"Well, I'm not going to," said the Ensign; "at least, I don't think I
+am. I'm more or less subject to impulses, however."
+
+A shrill feminine scream brought both men to their feet. "What was
+that?" cried Forsyth.
+
+Major came toward them from the north, on a dead run, with his
+tail between his legs and panting for breath. "What's the matter,
+old boy?" shouted Ronald. The dog took shelter behind his master,
+trembling violently.
+
+"He isn't hurt," said the Ensign, after looking him over carefully,
+"he's just scared. Do you think we'd better go up and see what's
+wrong?"
+
+"No," answered Forsyth; "everything is quiet now. Major probably got
+into trouble with a squaw. It was a woman's scream."
+
+"Maybe so," assented Ronald, sitting down again. "Anyhow, it was none
+of the women at the Fort, and I'm in favour of letting the Indians
+fight their own battles."
+
+The dog, still frightened, insisted on lying uncomfortably close to
+his master. "Move over a bit, Major," he suggested; "you're too warm
+to sit by."
+
+"He's all right," laughed Forsyth, as the dog refused to move; "let
+him alone."
+
+"Do you know," said Ronald, after a silence, "that scream sounded like
+Mad Margaret's voice. Don't you think so?"
+
+"Perhaps, now that you speak of it; but I haven't seen her for a long
+time."
+
+"Neither have I, and I don't want to. Do you remember the night you
+came?"
+
+Forsyth nodded.
+
+"I can't get that out of my head--the way she looked at me when she
+told me I should never have my heart's desire. Someway, it sticks."
+
+"You're not superstitious, are you?"
+
+"Not exactly, but it was rather uncanny, if you remember,--at least it
+would have seemed so if she had said it to you."
+
+"That's true," admitted Robert.
+
+"I'm not afraid of anything in this world," resumed the Ensign; "but
+I don't want to tackle the next before I get to it--if there is any
+next."
+
+"What do you think about the next world, anyway?"
+
+"Well," answered Ronald, seriously, "I don't think much about it,
+and that's a fact. Nobody knows any more about it than anybody else,
+and I don't see why one man's opinion isn't as good as another's.
+Personally, I have always felt that if I was decent and honest and
+minded my own business, I'd get my share of anything good that night
+be coming after I got through here. Actions, to my mind, are a good
+deal more important than beliefs."
+
+"That's so, too, but I've learned to keep pretty still about those
+things, for I've been accused more than once of too much liberality."
+
+"The chaplain at West Point was a nice old fellow, and he used to tell
+us that if we were good soldiers and abided by the army regulations,
+we wouldn't get into trouble after we died. I've always remembered it
+and I've marched by it ever since."
+
+"Let's go in now," suggested the other, after a long silence.
+
+"All right--come on, Major!"
+
+The sun was shining brightly on the water, and the dog barked joyously
+as they plunged in. "Keep him here," said Ronald, "I'm going on out."
+Robert watched him enviously as he swam north-east with a long, free
+stroke, until he was almost out of sight. The dog was eager to be
+after him, and, having no collar, was not easily controlled. When he
+came back, aglow with life, it seemed to the other that he had the
+clean-limbed beauty of a young Greek god.
+
+"You go now," shouted Ronald, "and I'll amuse the pup."
+
+Forsyth swam straight out, with an exultant sense of power in
+breasting the waves, and his pulses thrilled with something so vital,
+keen, and elemental that it seemed as if he could go on forever. When
+he turned back, he saw the gleam of light far to the northward, where
+the sun shone on the cross, and thought of Beatrice, happily, and of
+the day in the woods. He was well in toward shore when his muscles
+suddenly lost their strength--as if he had forgotten how to swim. He
+called once, but faintly, then unutterable darkness surrounded him.
+
+When he came to his senses he was lying on the sand, and Ronald was
+rolling him over and over and pounding him vigorously. A whine sounded
+indistinct and far, as if it were leagues away, even while the dog was
+licking his face.
+
+"My God, man," said the Ensign, with white lips, "I'd almost given you
+up!"
+
+The voice beat painfully upon his ears and his senses were confused,
+but he tried to sit up. "What was the matter?" he gasped.
+
+"Cramps, I guess--that's the usual thing. We'd better have let Major
+drown and gone out together. I had a nice time getting both of you
+back to shore."
+
+Ronald continued his violent treatment until the other protested.
+"Don't hit me again," he said faintly, "I'm all right!"
+
+"Pile into your clothes, then, or you'll take cold."
+
+He obeyed, but slowly, for he was thoroughly exhausted and movement
+was difficult. Ronald was dressed long before he was, and insisted
+upon helping him.
+
+"There, now you're fixed," he said, at length; "and if you're good for
+it, we'll go back to the bank and sit down a bit. There's no hurry
+about going home."
+
+Forsyth was faint when they reached the tall tree they had started
+from, and was more than willing to rest. His speech was still thick,
+but he stammered his thanks.
+
+"You owe it to Major," explained Ronald, diffidently, "for I never
+would have seen you. He started out, all of a sudden, and I went after
+him. Of course I wondered what had happened when I didn't see you, but
+I thought you were swimming under water. He found you, though. Good
+old boy," he added, patting the dog.
+
+"I'm much obliged to both of you," said Robert weakly. "I've been
+in the water more or less all my life, and nothing like that ever
+happened to me before."
+
+"Hope it won't again--the first time came mighty near being the last."
+
+Forsyth had more strength than he appeared to have, but the shock was
+severe. "There's no hurry," said George, "and we won't go back till
+you're ready for a long walk. Say, how did you feel?"
+
+"Why, I don't know exactly. I was all right, and I was thinking what
+a glorious swim I was having and how fine the water was, when all at
+once I couldn't move, and everything was black. I think I called you,
+though."
+
+"Didn't hear you, but I guess the dog did. Queer, isn't it, that
+it should come just after we had been talking about death and the
+hereafter and so on?"
+
+"Perhaps it was a warning."
+
+"You're superstitious, now," returned Ronald; "but there's no getting
+out of it--when we get near the jumping-off place it makes us feel
+devilish queer. I was nearly crazy when I got you to shore and found
+you were dead--the thing came so quick, why, it was like a stroke of
+lightning."
+
+"If that's death, though, it's nothing to be afraid of. Everything was
+black and soft, and there was no hurt to it--just a stop."
+
+"Do you know," said the Ensign, "I've never seen very many dead
+people, and I've never seen anybody who had been killed in an
+accident--suddenly, you know. Those fellows up at Lee's were the
+nearest to it, but I didn't see them." His face whitened and his hands
+clenched instinctively. "God!" he breathed, between his set teeth, "I
+hope I'll be spared a death like that, at the hands of the red devils.
+I want to die like a soldier--in battle!"
+
+"Come," said Forsyth, smiling, "we're getting serious--let's go back."
+
+"Do you feel all right?"
+
+"Yes; I'm a little shaky, but I guess I'm good for it. Don't say
+anything about it at the Fort, nor anywhere else--the women would make
+a great row."
+
+"As you say--it's your business, you know."
+
+In spite of Forsyth's valiant efforts, his progress was slow. "I'm as
+weak as a woman," he complained, when he was forced to stop and rest
+for the fourth time.
+
+"You'll make it all right," said the other, cheerily; "take your time.
+And say, when we get back, come on over to the Fort and get a good
+stiff drink of whisky--that will set you on your pegs as quickly as
+anything."
+
+When they came to the river Forsyth sat down and waited until Ronald
+went down to Mackenzie's, got a pirogue, and came up after him.
+"Didn't see anybody," said Ronald, in answer to a question, "and it's
+just as well. You're pretty white around the gills yet."
+
+"Steady," he continued, as the boat grazed the shore, "and in ten
+minutes you'll be a new man."
+
+Mrs. Franklin and Mrs. Howard were playing battledore on the
+parade-ground, while Beatrice and the Lieutenant watched them from
+the piazza. Captain Franklin, Mackenzie, and a couple of Indians were
+standing in front of the Captain's quarters, and Ronald yearned to
+join the group and see what was going on. He gave Robert his flask,
+bade him take it slowly, and rushed out.
+
+The Indians were just leaving, and Captain Franklin had started back
+to the house, when one of them turned back and said something.
+
+"What did he say?" he asked of Mackenzie.
+
+"Nothing," replied the trader, with the dull colour bronzing his face;
+"they ain't our folks, you know."
+
+"I insist upon knowing," said Franklin, peremptorily.
+
+Mackenzie came nearer and lowered his voice to a whisper. "He said
+something about the women over there,"--indicating Mrs. Franklin and
+Mrs. Howard. "He said 'the white chief's wives are amusing themselves
+very much. It will not be long before they are hoeing in our
+corn-fields.'"
+
+"Humph!" snorted the Captain.
+
+"Oh!" laughed Ronald, "I must tell 'em!"
+
+"Shut up," said the Captain; "you will do no such thing!"
+
+"All right," returned the younger officer, good humouredly, "they're
+not my wives!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+GIFTS
+
+
+"Cousin Rob," said Beatrice, the next morning, "I think you're
+dreadfully stupid."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because--yesterday, you know."
+
+"You're indefinite."
+
+"Why, when Aunt Eleanor was telling about the quilt that was stolen--a
+white quilt, with blue stars--you didn't know where it was."
+
+"Did you?"
+
+"Of course I did--it's in the little house in the woods."
+
+"I wasn't in the house, Bee--you told me about it, but I didn't see
+it."
+
+"Well, anyhow, you should have known," she concluded, with truly
+feminine inconsistency.
+
+"Perhaps," smiled Robert; "but I'd rather not know, and then there'd
+be an excuse for your telling me."
+
+A faint colour came into the girl's cheeks. "I had an awful dream
+about you last night," she said, in a low tone; "I dreamed you were
+drowned in the lake."
+
+Robert started, but managed to control his voice. "I'm not drowned,"
+he answered, with apparent lightness; but he was wondering whether
+Ronald had broken his promise. Still, no one had crossed the river,
+from either side, since the accident--he was sure of that.
+
+"Be careful, won't you?" Beatrice pleaded earnestly.
+
+"Certainly--but would you care?"
+
+All the rosy tints faded from her face and the mist came into her
+eyes. Her "yes" was scarcely audible, but it moved the man strangely.
+"I'd do anything to please you, my dear--cousin," he said tenderly.
+
+"Quarrelling?" asked Mackenzie, from the doorway.
+
+"Not this time," laughed the girl.
+
+"I've got something to tell you, Bee. Black Partridge was here early
+this morning, long before you were up, and apologised for running off
+with the picture--that is, as nearly as an Indian ever apologises.
+From what he said, I infer that he thinks the Great Spirit dwells in
+you, but he is willing for you to finish it. The medicine-man of the
+tribe told him good would come from it, rather than evil, so he left
+it here to be completed."
+
+"All right," she answered; "I'll go to work at it now and try to get
+it done before he changes his mind again."
+
+Robert brought the picture and her paints, and they sat down together
+on the piazza while she added the finishing touches. "Couldn't we make
+a frame for it?" asked Robert.
+
+"What could we make it of?"
+
+"He'd prefer beads, wouldn't he?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose so," she said, with a puzzled little frown; "but I
+don't know how to make a bead frame."
+
+"I should think a plain wooden frame might be whittled out, smeared
+with pitch or rosin, and the beads stuck on while it was hot."
+
+"You're a genius, Cousin Rob. Get the beads off uncle and make it
+while I'm finishing the picture."
+
+Mackenzie willingly placed his stock at their service, and, after
+taking careful measurements, Forsyth found a piece of soft pine and
+made a narrow, flat frame. Beatrice finished her work in time to help
+set the beads in the rosin, and Mackenzie and his wife came out to
+admire the result.
+
+The picture was framed to their satisfaction when Black Partridge,
+somewhat shamefaced, appeared at the trading station. He took it with
+every evidence of delight and made a long speech to Mackenzie, of
+which Robert understood only a little.
+
+"What does he say?" asked Beatrice, impatiently.
+
+"He says he is very thankful and very grateful and much pleased, and
+that as long as he lives neither of you shall ever want for a friend.
+He says while the sun rises and sets and the stars move in their
+courses, Black Partridge will be the faithful friend of the paleface
+and her lover."
+
+Robert was much embarrassed, but Beatrice only laughed. "Tell him he
+is very welcome," she said, "and that when we need a friend we will
+not hesitate to call upon Black Partridge."
+
+The speech was duly repeated, with additional assurances which
+Mackenzie knew would please the chief, and the visit was ended with
+much ceremony.
+
+Ronald was coming across the river, and Beatrice lingered upon the
+piazza until he opened the gate, when she gathered up her paints and
+went into the house without a word of greeting. There was a shade of
+annoyance in the Ensign's salutation, but he made no allusion to the
+girl.
+
+"Come on out for a bit," suggested Robert; "I want to talk to you."
+
+They went north along the river bank in silence until they were out of
+sight of the house, then Robert turned suddenly and faced him.
+
+"Say," he said, "did you tell any one about my--about yesterday, you
+know?"
+
+"No," answered Ronald, meeting his eyes squarely; "why?"
+
+"Oh--nothing. Are you sure you didn't say anything that would lead any
+one to suspect?"
+
+"'Nary peep, unless I talked in my sleep. When I found out that you'd
+drained my flask of everything but the smell, I went to Doc after a
+new supply, and when he asked me what had become of it I told him
+you'd taken to drink, but that was all. Now, I'll ask you a few
+questions. Why doesn't Miss Manning want me to come over?"
+
+"Why, I don't know," replied Forsyth, wonderingly; "doesn't she?"
+
+"Doesn't look like it," grumbled the other. "Didn't you see her gallop
+into the house the minute I opened the gate?"
+
+"I didn't notice."
+
+"You would, if she'd done it to you." Ronald was plainly in a bad
+humour. "What's more, if I speak to her, she never answers me
+decently. A girl never treated me like that before," he fumed; "just
+wait till I get my new uniform!"
+
+"When is it coming?" asked Forsyth, glad of the chance to change the
+subject.
+
+"Dunno--the boys are going to start early in the morning, but there's
+no telling when they'll get back."
+
+"Are you going?"
+
+"Indeed, and I am not. How can I go when there's no horse for me?"
+
+"I thought you were going to--to borrow," stammered the other.
+
+"Hardly!" The Ensign stopped and wiped his forehead with his sleeve.
+"Suffering Moses!" he said, "wouldn't she be mad!"
+
+"Yes, I think she would, but I don't see why. She lets you lead Queen,
+doesn't she?"
+
+"Oh, Lord, yes! I'm allowed to lead the beast twenty times around
+the Fort every day for exercise--she said we both needed it, and
+she didn't want to ride while it was so hot,--but she particularly
+impressed it upon me that under no circumstances was I to mount. A
+groom--a stable boy,--that's what she thinks I am! I believe I'll
+tell her to lead her own nag!"
+
+"I wouldn't," returned Forsyth.
+
+"Why not?" demanded the other. "What do you know about women?"
+
+"Not very much," admitted Robert, laughing; "but we're all at sea
+there, I fancy."
+
+Gradually Ronald's temper improved, and in a short time he was his
+sunny self again. Peace dwelt in the woods along the river, and where
+the young officer stretched himself full length under an overhanging
+willow, the quiet coolness of the unsunned spaces put an end,
+insensibly, to his irritation.
+
+"Say," he said, "did you ever write poetry?"
+
+Forsyth smiled, remembering certain callow attempts in his college
+days. "Yes, I called it that."
+
+"Then you're the very man for me," announced George, "for I'm going to
+write a poem!"
+
+"What about?"
+
+"Oh--er--anything. Poems don't have to be about anything, do they?
+It's to go with a present--a birthday present, you know."
+
+"To a girl?"
+
+Ronald laughed long and loud. "No," he cried; "of course not! It's a
+little tribute of affection for the Captain! Lord, but you're green!"
+
+"How can I help you with it if I don't know the circumstances?"
+demanded Forsyth. "What is the present?"
+
+"The present isn't much--the poem is the main part of it. It's an
+Indian basket that Mrs. B. P. made for me in return for two fists of
+beads." Ronald took off his cap, felt around carefully inside of it,
+and at length produced a slip of paper, much worn. "I've got some
+of it," he said, "and I thought if I kept it on my head it might
+stimulate thought, but it hasn't."
+
+"Let's hear it."
+
+The poet cleared his throat and read proudly:
+
+    "Lovely lady, take this basket;
+    'Tis your willing slave who asks it."
+
+Robert bit his lips, but managed to turn a serious face toward Ronald.
+"Is that all you've got?"
+
+"That's all, so far. I thought myself into a headache about it, but I
+couldn't write any more. What shall I put in next?"
+
+"I don't want to seem critical," observed Forsyth; "but you've got a
+false rhyme there."
+
+"What's a 'false rhyme'?"
+
+"'Basket' and asks it'--'ask it' would be all right."
+
+"It doesn't fit. We'll leave that just as it is--nobody but you would
+notice it, and you're not getting the present."
+
+"What do you want to say next?"
+
+"Well, I don't know, exactly," replied Ronald, confidentially. "Of
+course, I want it to be personal in a way, with a delicate reminder of
+my affection at the end of it."
+
+"You've got a 'delicate reminder,' as you call it, in the second line."
+
+"Never mind that; go to work."
+
+    "Lovely lady, take this basket;
+    'T is your willing slave who asks it,"
+
+repeated Robert, thoughtfully. "It was made by an Indian maiden--how
+would that do?"
+
+"That's all right, only it was a squaw."
+
+"It was made by an Indian squaw, then," continued Robert. "What rhymes
+with squaw?"
+
+"Dunno."
+
+"Paw," said Forsyth.
+
+    "It was made by an Indian squaw
+    With a dark and greasy paw."
+
+"Shut up!" said Ronald. "She'd throw it out of the window if she
+thought it wasn't clean. Call her a maiden if you like."
+
+"It was made by an Indian maiden--there isn't any rhyme for 'maiden.'"
+
+"Laden," suggested George, after long and painful thought.
+
+"That's good, if we can work it in."
+
+    "It was made by an Indian maiden--
+    With my love it now goes laden.
+
+"How's that?"
+
+"Fine!" beamed Ronald. "Say, I didn't know you were a poet!"
+
+"Neither did I," replied Forsyth, modestly.
+
+    "Lovely lady, take this basket:
+    'Tis your willing slave who asks it.
+    It was made by an Indian maiden--
+    With my love it now goes laden."
+
+"That's simply magnificent!" said Ronald. "We ought to write another
+verse, hadn't we?"
+
+"As you say."
+
+"If we can do another one as good as that, it'll be a masterpiece. My
+name ought to come in at the end, hadn't it?"
+
+"Nothing rhymes with 'Ronald,' does it?"
+
+"I didn't mean that--I meant my front name."
+
+"Oh," said Forsyth. He was wondering how the girl in Fort Wayne would
+like the poem, and longed to ask questions about her, but felt that it
+would be improper.
+
+"'Forge' is the only thing I can think of for a rhyme," said the
+Ensign, at length; "that wouldn't do, would it?"
+
+    "My heart is burning like a forge,
+    All because I love you--George."
+
+"How's that?"
+
+Ronald's delight knew no bounds. "The very thing!" he shouted. "Now,
+all we have to do is to put two lines above it and it will be done.
+That's the end of the verse, you know."
+
+"Might put her name in," suggested Robert, not without guile.
+
+Ronald appeared to consider it carefully. "No," he said, "that wouldn't
+do. One name is enough to have in it. Something ought to go in about
+her looks, don't you think so--eyes, or mouth, or skin?"
+
+"'Skin,'" repeated Robert, laughing; "girls never have 'skin.' They
+call it their 'complexion.'"
+
+"Thought you didn't know anything about women," George said, looking
+at him narrowly.
+
+"Oh, come now, I can't help knowing that--any fool knows that!"
+
+"Except me," put in the Ensign, pointedly. "However, I'll let the
+insult pass for the sake of the poem. Put in something about her
+mouth, can't you?"
+
+The vision of Beatrice's scarlet, parted lips, with their dangerous
+curves, came before Robert.
+
+    "Reddest roses of the South
+    Are not sweeter than your mouth,"
+
+he suggested.
+
+"Man," said Ronald, soberly, "you're a genius. Write it down quick
+before it gets away. Now I'll read the whole thing:
+
+    "Lovely lady, take this basket;
+    'T is your willing slave who asks it.
+    It was made by an Indian maiden--
+    With my love it now goes laden.
+
+    "Reddest roses of the South
+    Are not sweeter than your mouth;
+    My heart is burning like a forge,
+    All because I love you--George.
+
+"Sounds like Shakespeare, doesn't it?"
+
+"I wouldn't say that," answered Forsyth, with proper modesty.
+
+"Got any good paper to write it on?"
+
+"Only a little, but you're welcome to it."
+
+"All right, let's go back and get it. Say, do you think she'll be
+pleased?"
+
+"She can't help being pleased," Robert assured him.
+
+"I'm ever so much obliged," said Ronald diffidently. "I never could
+have done it so well alone."
+
+When they reached Mackenzie's, Beatrice came out on the piazza as
+Robert went in after the paper, and she was evidently inclined to
+conversation.
+
+"Where have you been?" she asked sweetly.
+
+"Oh, just up-stream a little ways," replied Ronald, carelessly.
+
+"Have you had Queen out this morning?"
+
+"Yes, I rode her half-way to Fort Wayne and back. She got pretty well
+used up, but it did her good."
+
+"How dare you!" flamed Beatrice, stamping her foot.
+
+Ronald laughed and leaned easily against the side of the house while
+she stormed at him. Even Robert's appearance did not have any effect
+upon her wrath.
+
+"Say, Rob," said the Ensign, when she paused to take breath, "your
+cousin here doesn't seem to know a joke when she sees it. She thinks
+I'd ride that old gun-carriage she keeps in the garrison stables. Calm
+her down a bit, will you? Bye-bye!"
+
+The fire died out of the girl's eyes and her lips quivered. Her breast
+was heaving, but she kept herself in check till Ronald slammed the
+gate, then her shoulders shook with sobs.
+
+"Bee!" cried Robert. "Don't, dear!"
+
+Instinctively he put his arm around her, and she leaned against his
+shoulder, sobbing helplessly, her self-control quite gone. Ronald was
+untying a pirogue at the landing, when he looked back and saw the
+inspiring tableau.
+
+"Good Lord!" he said, under his breath, as Robert, with his arm still
+around her, led Beatrice into the house.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Later in the week, as Robert was on his way to breakfast, he met Maria
+Indiana in the long, narrow passage back of the living-rooms. "What
+have you there, baby?" he asked.
+
+Maria Indiana held out a small Indian basket of wonderful workmanship,
+filled with berries, fresh and fragrant, with the dew still on them.
+Tucked in at one side was a note, written upon his own stationery, as
+he could not help seeing. "It's for Tuzzin Bee!" lisped the child.
+"Misser George said nobody mus' see!"
+
+The little feet pattered down the passage, but Robert stood still for
+a moment, as if he had turned to stone. Then wild unrest possessed him
+and stabs of pain pierced his consciousness. "Fool that I was!" he
+said to himself, bitterly; "blind, cursed fool!"
+
+All at once he knew that he loved Beatrice with every fibre of his
+being--that she held his heart in the hollow of her hand, to crush or
+hurt as she pleased. He was shaken like an aspen in a storm--this,
+then, was why her flower-like face had haunted his dreams.
+
+Swiftly upon the knowledge came a great uplifting, such as Love brings
+to the man whose life has been clean. It was a proud heart yielding
+only to the keeper of its keys--the absolute surrender of a kingdom to
+its queen.
+
+Beatrice was late to breakfast, as usual; and Robert, acutely
+self-conscious, could not meet her eyes. She brought the basket with
+her and offered the berries as her contribution to the morning meal.
+Between gasps of laughter she read the poem, thereby causing mixed
+emotions in Forsyth. "Did you ever hear anything so ridiculous?" she
+asked, wiping the tears of mirth from her eyes.
+
+Robert wished that the giver might see the rare pleasure his gift
+had brought to the recipient, but swiftly reproached himself for the
+ungenerous thought.
+
+"It was nice of him to remember your birthday, Bee," said Mrs.
+Mackenzie, who was always ready to defend Ronald.
+
+"How did he know it was my birthday?" demanded Beatrice.
+
+"I told him," replied Mrs. Mackenzie. "He asked me, long ago, to find
+out when it was and to let him know."
+
+"Clever of him," commented Beatrice, somewhat mollified. "Why didn't
+you get something for my birthday, Cousin Rob?" she asked, with a
+winning smile.
+
+"Perhaps I did," he answered; "the day is still young."
+
+He had already decided what to give her, and knew that his offering
+would not suffer by comparison with Ronald's, even though no poem
+went with it; but when he went to his room to look in his box for the
+moccasins he had bought so long ago, he was astonished to find that
+they were gone.
+
+He ransacked the room thoroughly, but without success. He could not
+even remember when he had seen them last, though he knew he had taken
+them down from the wall of his room and put them away. Still, he was
+not greatly concerned, for he was sure that he could go to the Indian
+camp and find another pair.
+
+After school he started off on a long, lonely tramp, and returned at
+sunset, empty handed and exasperated. Beatrice had on her pink calico
+gown, and was sitting demurely upon the piazza--alone. She seemed
+like a rose to her lover, and he was about to tell her so, but she
+forestalled him.
+
+"Where's my birthday present?" she asked, sweetly; "I've been looking
+for it all day!"
+
+Then he told her about the moccasins he had for her, though he failed
+to mention the fact that he had bought them for her long before she
+came to Fort Dearborn. "When I went after them this morning," he said,
+"I discovered that they had been stolen. I've been out now to see if
+I couldn't get another pair, but I couldn't even find a squaw who was
+willing to make them. You don't know how sorry I am!"
+
+"Never mind," she said soothingly, "it's no matter. Of course, I'd
+love to have the moccasins, but it's the thought, rather than the
+gift, and I'd rather know that you found out from Aunt Eleanor when my
+birthday was, and tried to give me pleasure, than to have the pleasure
+itself."
+
+The colour mounted to Robert's temples, but he could not speak. He
+felt that his silence was a lie, and a cowardly one at that, but he
+was helpless before the girl's smile.
+
+"What's that?" asked Beatrice, suddenly, pointing across the river.
+
+There was a stir at the Fort. Men ran in and out, evidently under
+stress of great excitement, then a tall and stately being, resplendent
+in a new uniform, came out and turned a handspring on the esplanade.
+
+"What's up?" shouted Robert.
+
+Ronald turned another handspring and threw his cap high in the air
+before he condescended to answer. "Bully!" he roared; "we're going to
+fight! War is declared against England!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+HEART'S DESIRE
+
+
+Those who had complained of Captain Franklin's lax methods were silent
+now. The fortifications were strengthened at every possible point and
+pickets were stationed in the woods, at points on the lake shore,
+along the Fort Wayne trail, and at various places on the prairie.
+There was no target practice for fear of a scarcity of ammunition; but
+the women were taught to handle the pistols, muskets, and even the
+cannon in the blockhouses.
+
+Mackenzie, Forsyth, and Chandonnais divided the night watch at the
+trading station. At the first sound of a warning gun, the women and
+children were to be taken to the Fort. As before, Beatrice was to go
+to Captain Franklin's, Mrs. Mackenzie and the children to Lieutenant
+Howard's, and the men to barracks.
+
+"I guess I'll move over anyway," said Beatrice. "I wouldn't care to
+make the trip in the night. I'll sleep at the Captain's and eat
+wherever I happen to be."
+
+Mrs. Franklin was not told of the plan until Beatrice and Robert
+appeared at her door with the enterprising young woman's possessions,
+but she made her guest very welcome.
+
+"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" she asked.
+
+"What would be the use of telling you?" inquired Beatrice. "You'd be
+obliged to say you wanted me, so I just came."
+
+The Captain's wife was genuinely glad, for of late she had been very
+lonely. Franklin was always more or less absorbed in his own affairs,
+and the feeling between Lieutenant Howard and his superior officer did
+not tend to promote friendly relations between the women. There had
+been no open break, but each felt that there might be one at any time.
+
+Ronald was in high spirits. Since he had given Beatrice the basket she
+had treated him more kindly, and he led Queen twenty times around the
+Fort every day for exercise, without a murmur of complaint. Beatrice
+stood at the gate and kept count; while, across the river, Forsyth sat
+on the piazza and envied the Ensign, even during his monotonous daily
+round.
+
+Among the officers at the Fort the declaration of war had not been
+altogether unexpected, for vague rumours of England's arrogance upon
+the high seas had reached the western limits of civilisation, but the
+situation was covered only by general orders from the War Department.
+
+For once, Lieutenant Howard agreed with the Captain, in that there
+seemed to be no great possibility of a British attack. However
+valiantly defended, the Fort could not be held long in the face of a
+vigorous assault from the enemy, since the fighting force numbered
+less than sixty men, but England would have nothing to gain from that
+quarter. Other points were far more important than Fort Dearborn, but
+the garrison was ready to fight, nevertheless.
+
+Ronald was more sanguine, and lived in hourly hope of hearing the
+signal of the enemy's approach. He sharpened the edge of his sword to
+the keen thinness of a knife blade, and slept with one hand upon his
+pistol. Doctor Norton, too, was making elaborate preparations in the
+way of lint and bandages, and Ronald helped him make stretchers enough
+to last during a lifetime of war.
+
+But the days passed peacefully, and there were no signs of fighting.
+The Indians were particularly lawless, but confined their violence to
+their own people, though they had lost, in a great measure, their
+wholesome fear of the soldiers at the Fort.
+
+"The devils are insolent because they think there's going to be
+trouble, and in the general confusion it will escape notice," remarked
+Ronald, as he sat in the shade of Lieutenant Howard's piazza. "I'm in
+favour of stringing up a few of 'em by way of example to the rest."
+
+"Yes," replied Howard, twisting his mustache, "and in a few minutes
+we'd have the entire Pottawattomie tribe upon us. You don't seem to
+understand that they knew war had been declared long before we did,
+and that even now, in all probability, they are in league with the
+enemy. No people on earth are too low down for England to ally herself
+with when she wants territory."
+
+"True," answered Ronald; "but I'm not afraid of England. She's had one
+good lesson, and we'll give her another any time she wants it."
+
+"We've got enough on our hands right here," sighed the Lieutenant,
+"without any more foreign wars. We've got to have it out with the
+Indians yet, and fight our way step by step. The trail of blood began
+at Plymouth and will end--God knows where. England is more or less
+civilised, but she isn't above setting the Indians upon us to serve
+her own ends."
+
+"What are you talking about?" asked Beatrice, coming across from
+Captain Franklin's.
+
+"Yes, do tell us," said Katherine, from the doorway.
+
+"Affairs of state," answered the Lieutenant, easily.
+
+"Any British in sight?" inquired Beatrice.
+
+"Not yet," replied Ronald; "but the entire army is likely to drop on
+us at any minute."
+
+"What would you do?" she asked curiously.
+
+"Do?" repeated Ronald, striding up and down in front of the house;
+"we'd call in the pickets, bar the gates, man the guns, and send the
+women and children into the Captain's cellar."
+
+"Could Queen go, too?"
+
+"Can Queen go down a ladder?"
+
+"She never has," answered Beatrice; "but she could if she wanted
+to--I'm sure of it."
+
+"If that's the case," said Lieutenant Howard, "we'd better offer her
+to the British officers as a trick horse and buy off the attack."
+
+"If they come in the daytime," continued Beatrice, ignoring the
+suggestion, "I will go out to meet them all by myself. I'll put on
+my pink dress and my best apron, and carry a white flag in one hand
+and the United States flag in the other. When the British captain
+comes running up to me to see what I want, I'll say: 'Captain, you
+are late, and to be late to dinner is a sin. We have been looking for
+you for some time, but we will forgive you if you will come now. The
+invitation includes the ladies of your party and all the officers.'
+They never could shoot after that."
+
+Katherine joined in the laugh that followed, but her heart was uneasy,
+none the less. Like Ronald, she was continually expecting an attack
+and knew there could be but one result. She believed that the Indians
+and the British would make common cause against them, when the time
+came to strike.
+
+"I'll tell you what," said Ronald, "some of us ought to go out and
+drag in Mad Margaret. If we stood her up on the stockade, there isn't
+an Indian in the tribe who would dare to aim an arrow or throw a
+tomahawk toward the Fort."
+
+"I've never seen her," said Beatrice, thoughtfully.
+
+"I hope you never will," answered Ronald, quickly. "She's crazy,
+of course; but she has an uncanny way about her that a sensitive
+person would consider disturbing. She pranced into the Fort on a
+Winter afternoon two years ago and prophesied a flood, followed by
+a terribly hot Summer, and no crops. When the Spring rains came, the
+river spread on all sides, and, sure enough, there were no crops that
+year."
+
+"Was it hot, too?"
+
+"Oh, Lord! Was it hot? If hell is any hotter I don't care to go to it."
+
+"You talk as if that was your final destination," observed Katherine.
+
+"That's as it may be," returned the Ensign. "I've often been invited
+to go, and several times I've been told that it was a fitting place of
+residence for such as I."
+
+"I didn't know about that," said the Lieutenant, thoughtfully,
+referring to the fulfilment of the prophecy.
+
+"You weren't here," explained Ronald. "It was before you came--in
+1810, I think."
+
+"Cousin Rob told me about her," said Beatrice. "He said she came to
+Uncle John's the same day he did, and he's seen her once or twice
+since. She always says that she sees much blood, then fire, and
+afterward peace."
+
+"Yes," growled the Ensign; "she's for ever harping on blood. She stuck
+her claws into me that night, I remember--told me I should never have
+my heart's desire."
+
+"What is your heart's desire?" asked Beatrice, lightly.
+
+The Summer faded and another day came back. Once again he sat before
+the roaring fire at the trading station, with Forsyth, Mackenzie, and
+Chandonnais grouped around him, while phantoms of snow drifted by and
+sleet beat against the window panes. Then the door seemed to open
+softly and Mad Margaret made her way into the circle. Chandonnais'
+wild music sounded again in his ears, then he felt the thin, claw-like
+hands upon him and heard the high, tremulous voice saying, "You shall
+never have your heart's desire"; and, in answer to his question, "It
+has not come, but you will know it soon."
+
+The blood beat in his ears, but he heard Beatrice say, once more,
+"What is your heart's desire?"
+
+A flash of inward light revealed it--the girl who stood before him,
+with the sunlight on her hair, and her scarlet lips parted; strong and
+self-reliant, yet wholly womanly.
+
+Ronald cleared his throat. "You shouldn't ask me such questions," he
+said, trying to speak lightly, "when all these people are around."
+
+"We'd better go, Kit," remarked the Lieutenant; "we seem to be in the
+way."
+
+"Anything to please," murmured Mrs. Howard, as they went into the
+house.
+
+Ronald was looking at Beatrice, with all his soul in his eyes. "I--I
+must go," she stammered. "Aunt Eleanor will want me."
+
+"Don't--dear!" The boyishness was all gone, and it was the voice of
+a man in pain. The deep crimson flamed into her face and dyed the
+whiteness of her neck just below the turn of her cheek. She did not
+dare to look at him, but fled ignominiously.
+
+He did not follow her, but she heard him laugh--a hollow, mirthless
+laugh, with a catch in it that sounded like a sob. She never knew how
+she crossed the river, but she was surprised to find Forsyth waiting
+for her. As he helped her out of the pirogue, he said; "I was just
+going after you--we feared we had lost you."
+
+"I'm not lost," she said shortly, "and I don't want people running
+around after me!"
+
+The shadow that crossed his face haunted her, even while he sat
+opposite her at dinner and laughed and joked with her as usual. When
+Mrs. Mackenzie took the baby away for his afternoon nap, with Maria
+Indiana wailing sleepily at her skirts, Beatrice went to her own room,
+fearing to be alone with Robert. She was strangely restless, and
+something seemed to hang over her like an indefinite, threatening fate.
+
+Outside was the drowsy hum of midsummer, where the fairy folk of
+the fields rubbed their wings together in the grass and the sun
+transformed the river to a sheet of shining silver. Ronald came out,
+took the good boat which belonged to the Fort, and pulled down-stream
+with long, steady strokes. The river was low, but he passed the bar
+with little difficulty and went on out into the lake.
+
+Beatrice heard Robert singing happily to himself, but she could not
+stay any longer where she was. She gathered up her sewing and climbed
+out of the window, ungracefully but effectively, and went back to the
+Fort.
+
+Katherine saw her coming and smiled. That morning, with quick
+intuition, she had read the secret in Ronald's heart, and suddenly
+knew how much she cared for the boy who teased and tormented, but
+never failed her if she needed him. In her own mind, she had written
+down Beatrice as an unsparing coquette, and determined to take up the
+cudgels in behalf of her victim.
+
+The girl sewed nervously, breaking her thread frequently, but she kept
+at it until Katherine said, very gently, "Bee, George cares for you."
+
+"I know!" snapped Beatrice. Her thread broke again, and her hands
+trembled so she could scarcely knot it.
+
+"And Robert, too," said Katherine, presently.
+
+"I know!"
+
+"Well, dear, what are you going to do about it?"
+
+"Cousin Kit," said the girl, angrily, "if you're going to lecture me,
+I'm going back home." She folded up her work, but Mrs. Howard put a
+restraining hand upon her arm.
+
+"Don't, Bee. You know we talked about my trouble together--why can't
+we talk about yours?"
+
+"I haven't any trouble!" Beatrice's face was flushed, but her voice
+was softer, and she seemed willing to stay.
+
+"What are you going to do about it?" asked Katherine, once more.
+
+"What can I do about it?" cried Beatrice, in a high key--"why, that's
+simple, I'm sure! I can go to Mr. Ronald and say, 'Please, Mr. Ronald,
+don't ask me to marry you, because I'm going to marry Cousin Rob. He
+doesn't know it yet; in fact, he hasn't even asked me, but I'm going
+to do it just the same.' Or, I might go to Cousin Rob and say, 'My
+dear Mr. Forsyth, I hope you won't ask me to marry you, because I'm
+going to marry Mr. Ronald, who hasn't asked me as yet. In fact," she
+continued, with her temper rising, "I've about concluded that I won't
+marry anybody!"
+
+"Bee, dear, I'm only trying to help you--please don't be cross to me.
+Which one do you care for?"
+
+"Neither!" cried Beatrice, in a passion. "I don't care for
+anybody, and I'm never going to be married. I'd be happy,
+wouldn't I? Tied up--chained like a dog--take what my master gave
+me--slave--drudge--bear whatever burden he saw fit to put upon me--eat
+my heart out in loneliness--cry all day and all night for my lost
+freedom. Marry? Not I!"
+
+"Marriage means all those things, as you say," said Katherine, after
+a silence; "but the bitterest part of it is that, when you find your
+mate, you have to go. The call is insistent--there is no other way.
+It means child-bearing and child loss--it means a thousand kinds
+of pain that you never knew before,--loneliness, doubt, sacrifice,
+misunderstanding,--and always the fear of change. Before, you think of
+it as a permanent bond of happiness; later, you see that it is a yoke,
+borne unequally. You marry to keep love, but sometimes that is the
+surest way to lose it.
+
+"They say," continued Katherine, with her face white, "that after the
+first few years the storm and stress dies out into indifference, and
+that happiness and content are again possible. But oh," she breathed,
+"those few years! If man and woman must go through the world together,
+shoulder to shoulder, meeting the same troubles, the same difficulties
+and dangers, why, oh, why, didn't God make us of the same clay! We
+are different in a thousand ways; we act in opposite directions,
+from differing and incomprehensible motives--our point of view is
+instinctively different, and yet we are chained. Sex against sex it
+has been since the world began--sex against sex it shall be to the
+bitter end!"
+
+"Katherine!" sobbed Beatrice, "I know! That is what I am afraid of!
+All the time I keep tight hold of myself to keep from caring, because
+I dare not surrender. If I yield, I am lost. If I loved a man, he
+could take me between his two hands and crush me--so; I should be so
+wholly his!"
+
+"Yes," said the other, bitterly, "and many times he will crush you,
+just to see if he can--just to see that he has not lost his command of
+you. Power is what he must have--power over your mind and body, your
+heart and your soul--for every little unthinking action of yours, you
+are held responsible before the bar of his justice. His justice," she
+repeated, scornfully, "when he does not know what the word means. You
+have a little corner of his life; you give him all of yours in return.
+We are bound like slaves that never can be free--God made it so--and
+we obey!"
+
+There was a tense silence, then a step was heard upon the piazza, and
+Katherine opened the door to her husband. Beatrice managed to wipe her
+wet eyes upon her sewing before he saw that she was there.
+
+"Well," said the Lieutenant, easily, sinking into a chair, "what have
+you girls been doing?"
+
+"Oh, we've just been talking," answered Katherine, diffidently.
+
+"Talking, talking,--always talking," he continued. "What would women
+do if they couldn't talk?"
+
+"They'd burst," remarked Beatrice, concisely.
+
+"I guess that's right," laughed the Lieutenant; "but you needn't fear
+it will happen to you."
+
+"You're mean to me," said Beatrice, gathering up her work, "so I'm
+going home."
+
+"Don't be in a hurry," put in Katherine.
+
+"I haven't been--you don't want me to live here, do you?"
+
+"We should be charmed," replied the Lieutenant, gallantly.
+
+"I'll consider it," she said shortly. "Good-bye!"
+
+"Tempestuous sort of a girl," commented Howard, as Beatrice
+disappeared. "She'd play the devil with a man, wouldn't she?"
+
+"That's exactly what she's doing."
+
+"Which man?" asked Howard, curiously.
+
+"Messrs. Ronald and Forsyth," answered Katherine, laughing. "How blind
+and stupid you are!"
+
+The Lieutenant's disposition had undergone outward improvement of
+late. By common consent he and Katherine had started afresh, making no
+reference to past disagreements, and he had wisely ceased to question
+her motives or her actions. He let her understand that she might do as
+she pleased in all things, and, naturally, she was not willing to take
+undue advantage of her tacit freedom. Still, the old happiness and
+confidence were gone.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Forsyth had the second watch that night and was sitting on the piazza,
+listening for the warning guns of the pickets on the lookout for the
+enemy, when Ronald came across the river.
+
+"Thought you were here," he said, "so I came over, as I couldn't
+sleep."
+
+"I'm glad you did," returned Robert. "It gets pretty lonely out here
+about three o'clock in the morning."
+
+"Are you sleepy?"
+
+"Not a bit."
+
+"Who comes on next, and when?"
+
+"Chan's watch begins at three--it isn't far from that now."
+
+"Call him up, then, and let's go out awhile. I can't sit still."
+
+"All right."
+
+When the half-breed, muttering sleepily, was finally stationed on the
+piazza, with instructions to listen for the guns, they walked out to
+the river.
+
+"Which way?" asked Robert.
+
+"Either--I don't care."
+
+The moon was shining brightly and the earth was exquisitely still. The
+Fort, transfigured by its mantle of silver sheen, might have been some
+moss-grown feudal castle, with a gleaming river at its gate. Ronald
+walked rapidly, and his breath came in quick, short jerks.
+
+"What's gone wrong with you?" asked Forsyth, kindly.
+
+"I don't know how to put it," said the soldier, after a long silence,
+"for I never was good at words; but,--well, you like Beatrice pretty
+well, don't you?"
+
+"Yes, don't you?"
+
+"She's my heart's desire," said Ronald, thickly.
+
+They were in the forest now, where the tall trees stood like the
+pillars of a cathedral, and the moonlight, softened by the overhanging
+branches, fell full upon Robert's face, white to the lips with pain.
+
+"Old man," said Ronald, huskily, "one of us is going to get hurt."
+
+"Yes," returned Forsyth, dully, "I suppose so--we can't both have her."
+
+"Perhaps neither of us can, but--well, whatever happens--say, it isn't
+going to interfere with our friendship, is it?"
+
+"No!" cried Forsyth; "a thousand times, no!"
+
+Ronald wrung the other's hand in a fierce grasp and choked down a lump
+in his throat. "She's too good for me," he muttered; "I know that as
+well as anybody, but, on my soul, I can't give her up!"
+
+"She's for the man she loves," said Forsyth, "and for no other. She
+wouldn't marry a king if she didn't love him."
+
+"Well," sighed Ronald, "so be it. May the best man win!"
+
+"For the sake of her happiness, yes. Of the three of us, only one will
+suffer, unless you and I share it together; but even that is better
+than for her to be unhappy. I haven't a chance with you--I know I
+haven't; but you're my friend and--I--I love her so much, that I could
+give her to you, if she loved you better than she loved me."
+
+"Rob! Rob!" cried Ronald, "you're the only friend I've got,
+but I don't need any more. Whatever happens, I'll hold fast to
+that--there'll be something left for me after all!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+RIVALS
+
+
+August came, but there was no sign of fighting. Beatrice was openly
+skeptical, and said she did not believe there had been any declaration
+of war, but she spent more of her time at Captain Franklin's than at
+home.
+
+Forsyth and the Mackenzies missed her keenly, even though she made
+occasional visits across the river. Her real reason was her wish to
+avoid Forsyth and Ronald; but both of them went cheerfully to the
+Captain's on flimsy pretexts or on none at all.
+
+Robert fell into the habit of making early morning calls on Lieutenant
+and Mrs. Howard. Then, when Beatrice came out of the house to sit on
+the porch, he could saunter over carelessly and spend an accidental
+hour or so with her. Ronald was more direct and never hesitated to
+pound vigorously at the door when he wanted to see Beatrice and had
+the slightest excuse for going there.
+
+The experience was new to the Ensign, who had come unscathed through
+many a flirtation, and who had regarded love lightly, after the manner
+of his kind. He had been the master of every situation so far, but at
+last he had come face to face with something that made him weak and
+helpless--as if he had been clay in the potter's hands.
+
+No matter how hot it was, he led Queen patiently twenty times around
+the Fort in the broiling sun, and never attempted to mount, even when
+Beatrice was in the house. Moreover, though he would have scorned to
+rub down his own horse, he often put finishing touches upon Queen's
+glossy coat after she had been groomed. This gave him an opportunity
+to go over to Captain Franklin's, still leading the horse, and ask
+Beatrice how she liked her pet's appearance. Simple and transparent as
+the device was, it never failed to win a smile for him, and sometimes,
+too, the girl would linger to feed Queen lumps of sugar and gossip
+with Ronald meanwhile.
+
+She painted when she felt like it, and did a great deal of sewing,
+both occupations being fraught with interest to Forsyth and Ronald.
+Mrs. Franklin was often one of the group, and Katherine made no
+attempt to efface herself.
+
+They were all sitting on the porch in front of the Captain's house one
+hot morning, when Ronald appeared with a bowl and a spoon. "Taste," he
+said, offering it to Mrs. Franklin. Katherine followed her example,
+then Beatrice, always eager for new sensations, helped herself rather
+liberally. Robert also partook of the savoury stew.
+
+"Pretty good," he said critically; "what is it?"
+
+"It's poor old Major," replied Ronald, sadly; "the Indians cooked him
+and let me have some of the remains."
+
+Beatrice gasped and fled into the house. The other women had risen to
+follow her, when the situation was relieved by the appearance of Major
+coming across the parade-ground in full cry, with Doctor Norton in hot
+pursuit.
+
+"I couldn't hold him any longer!" shouted the Doctor.
+
+"You brute!" exclaimed Mrs. Franklin.
+
+Katherine went into the house to relieve Beatrice's apprehensions,
+and they returned together to add to the torrent of reproach that
+assailed the Ensign's ears. He was doubled up with unseemly mirth and
+apparently did not hear.
+
+"That just goes to show," he said, when the paroxysm had passed,
+"how the mind influences the body. I had an argument with Doc this
+morning, and I've proved my point. If he hadn't let Major go, you
+would have thought you had eaten him and been miserable accordingly.
+Rob said it was good, and, dog or not dog, the fact remains."
+
+Beatrice turned pale as a horrible suspicion entered her mind. "What
+is it?" she asked. "Upon your word and honour, what is it?"
+
+"It's mutton stew," replied Ronald, conclusively, "made by Mrs.
+Mackenzie this very morning for your own approaching dinner. She
+kindly gave me some of it to keep me alive till noon. In fact, I
+helped to make it."
+
+"You're a wretch!" exclaimed Katherine.
+
+"Just hear 'em, Doc," said Ronald, assuming a grieved tone.
+
+"I'm not sure but what you deserve it," laughed Norton. "If I had
+known what you were going to do, I wouldn't have tried to hold the
+dog."
+
+"It's really very interesting," observed the Ensign, thoughtfully. "It
+shows what slaves of custom we are. Major is a medium-sized, woolly
+animal, much better looking than a sheep, yet sheep is considered
+eatable and Major isn't. Then, too, we eat cattle and draw the line
+at horses--there must be many a good steak on Queen."
+
+Tears came to Beatrice's eyes, but she said nothing, and Forsyth
+warned Ronald with a look which was not noticed.
+
+"Not that I think of eating her," resumed George, cheerfully; "I
+wouldn't get any exercise if I did. I wouldn't miss leading that
+beast around the Fort every morning for a fortune. It's the only
+uninterrupted feminine society I have."
+
+At this juncture, Beatrice went into the house and slammed the door
+emphatically.
+
+"Our diet here seems to be somewhat restricted," continued Ronald,
+apparently unmindful of his decreasing audience,--"cow and sheep,
+sheep and cow, with an occasional piggy rift in the cloud. Birdie
+eats dog whenever he can get it, and look at him--he's got as much
+endurance as any five of us, and I'm not sure but what he's better put
+together than I am."
+
+"Yes, he is," put in Katherine, with caustic emphasis; "and he's
+better company, also. Come in," she continued, to Mrs. Franklin.
+
+Ronald gazed after the retreating figures in pained amazement.
+"Well, what do you think of that?" he asked mournfully. "You fellows
+probably don't notice it, because you're not sensitive to such
+things; but, to my mind, which is more finely organised, it's a
+delicate intimation that we're not wanted. Let's move along."
+
+"'Delicate' is good," commented the Doctor, as they walked away. "I
+call it rather pointed, myself."
+
+"Strange, isn't it," remarked Ronald, impersonally, "how some people
+fall into line with the expressed opinions of others!"
+
+"Ronald," said the Doctor, with mock admiration, "I don't think I ever
+met a man with so much fine tact as you have. Your unerring choice of
+happy subjects stands by itself--alone and unapproachable."
+
+"Run along to your medicines, you old pill-roller," retorted the
+Ensign; "I want to talk to my cousin Robert."
+
+Norton laughed and turned away, but he felt his isolation keenly, none
+the less. Lieutenant Howard was barely civil to him, as was natural
+under the circumstances, and he dared not see much of Katherine.
+Captain Franklin was not particularly congenial, and Mrs. Franklin
+had a vague distrust of him. She knew nothing more about the affair
+than Katherine had told her in the winter, but she surmised a great
+deal. Ronald had been the Doctor's mainstay, but since Beatrice came
+to Fort Dearborn he had been conspicuous by his absence. Forsyth was
+busy a great deal of the time, and the Doctor was left to intermittent
+association with the Mackenzies and the dubious consolation of the
+barracks.
+
+It was true, as he often told himself, that his nature was one of
+those foreordained to loneliness, but at times he hungered for the
+companionship of his kind. Books were few upon the frontier, and
+those few he knew by heart; so he scraped lint, made bandages, brewed
+medicines, cultivated a certain philosophical turn of mind, and
+wondered vaguely where and how it would end.
+
+Ronald and Forsyth were walking aimlessly in the neighbourhood of
+the Fort. The rigid discipline had somewhat relaxed, but no one was
+permitted to pass the picket lines. The Indians only came and went as
+they pleased, recognising no laws but those of their own making.
+
+Ronald appeared to have something on his mind, and made disconnected
+and irrelevant answers to Forsyth's observations. "Say," he
+interrupted, at last, "how do you suppose we're ever going to get
+anywhere?"
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Robert, in astonishment.
+
+"Why, Beatrice, you know," he said awkwardly; "you don't give me any
+chance."
+
+"I don't understand you," returned the other, coolly.
+
+"Come now," said Ronald, roughly; "you know I'm no good at words, but
+I don't get your idea. There's always a mob around wherever she is,
+and if I get her to myself a minute you prance in as if you belonged
+there. If you're always going to do that, we might as well hunt her up
+now, tell her we both want to marry her, ask her to take her pick, and
+end the suspense."
+
+An amused light came into Robert's eyes. "Do you know," he replied,
+"it's seemed to me the same way. If I get her to myself for a minute,
+you make it your business to join us. This morning, now,--I was there
+first, wasn't I?"
+
+The Ensign's clouded face cleared. "I guess you were," he said slowly;
+"honestly, do I do that?"
+
+"I should say you did," answered Forsyth, with unexpected spirit.
+"Since she moved away from Aunt Eleanor's, I haven't seen her alone
+for ten minutes."
+
+Ronald laughed heartily as the ludicrous element of the situation
+dawned upon him. "I say, old man," he began, "we'll have to fix it
+some way--divide her up into watches, you know, or something like
+that."
+
+Forsyth did not relish the way Ronald expressed it, but he caught the
+idea and nodded.
+
+"How'll we do it?" continued the Ensign. "We can't take her into our
+confidence."
+
+"Don't know," returned Robert, dully. "It doesn't make any difference,
+really, for I haven't a chance with you."
+
+"Cheer up--you'll never get her if you mourn all the time. A girl
+likes to have things lively. I know how you feel--I've often felt that
+way myself; but I try to keep things going just the same. You have to
+attract a woman's attention--it doesn't much matter how."
+
+"I surmised you thought that this morning," remarked Forsyth, with
+veiled sarcasm. He failed to mention the fact that, although he loved
+Beatrice, her evident displeasure had made him unspeakably glad.
+
+Ronald's face bronzed, but he seldom admitted the possibility of his
+making a mistake. "We'll say," he began, "for the hypothesis, that
+our chances are equal. Since she moved over to the Captain's you've
+lost your unfair advantage. She goes across the river, of course, but
+we'll set against that the fact that she's in the Fort the rest of
+the time. Now, suppose we divide the day into three parts--morning,
+afternoon, and evening. It's morning till noon, afternoon till six,
+and evening till midnight. She mustn't lose her sleep, or she'll be
+cross. We'll take turns. For instance, if I have the morning, you get
+the afternoon, and I'll take the evening. The next day it will be your
+turn in the morning and evening, and mine in the afternoon--see?"
+
+"Suppose she doesn't come out?"
+
+"That's as it may be. The fellow whose turn it is takes the risk. She
+can do as she pleases--we simply agree to leave the field for the
+other at the times specified, military and educational duties to the
+contrary notwithstanding. That's fair, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes, I think it is. Anyhow, it's better than we've been doing--it
+will lessen the possibility of friction."
+
+"Good thing," commented Ronald. "Many a time I've felt like taking you
+by the collar and shaking you as a terrier shakes a rat."
+
+"Me, too," laughed Forsyth. "Whose turn is it this afternoon?"
+
+"I think it's mine. We were both there this morning, but you've
+intimated that I didn't leave a pleasant impression, and I ought to
+have a chance to set myself right, don't you think?"
+
+"As you say--it doesn't make any difference to me."
+
+"I'll have to get out pretty early some of the time," mused Ronald,
+"and exercise the beast. I don't want to lose a precious hour doing
+that."
+
+"We might take turns--" suggested Forsyth, tentatively.
+
+"We will not," retorted Ronald. "That's my job--she gave it to me
+herself."
+
+Forsyth went across the river and Ronald returned to the Fort. Each
+was relieved because the matter was settled, for, as Robert had
+indicated, there had been friction.
+
+All through the long, hot afternoon Ronald kept a close watch upon
+Captain Franklin's door. His knock met with no response, and Katherine
+had long since gone home. Doctor Norton had attempted to talk with the
+waiting swain, but found it unsatisfactory and retired gracefully.
+
+Just before six o'clock Beatrice emerged. Her white gown was turned
+in a little at the throat, and her hair hung far below her waist in a
+heavy, shining braid, ending in a curl. Ronald's heart gave a great
+leap as he went to meet her.
+
+"Where are you going?" he asked.
+
+"Over to Aunt Eleanor's. You spoiled my dinner and I'm hungry."
+
+"I'm sorry," he said, with evident contrition; "will you forgive me?"
+
+"You ought to do penance for it."
+
+"I'll do anything you say, Miss Bee."
+
+"Lead Queen twenty-five times around the Fort after sundown," she
+said. "She'll be glad to get out again, and it won't hurt you."
+
+Ronald smiled grimly as she went away, disregarding his offer to row
+her across. "It's a hard service," he thought, "but I've enlisted and
+I'll see it through. Thorny damsel; but oh, ye gods, she's sweet!"
+
+Forsyth had made the most elaborate toilet his circumstances
+permitted, and was prepared to make the best of his coming
+opportunity. "Did you see George this afternoon?" he asked, with
+feigned carelessness.
+
+"I did not," returned Beatrice, with a toss of her head. "He nearly
+broke down the Captain's door, but it was locked and nobody let him
+in. He was talking with that precious dog of his when I came out, and
+he offered to row me over, but I came by myself."
+
+"I would have gone after you," said Robert, with ill-advised
+eagerness.
+
+"Thank you," she answered coolly; "but I'm not so old yet that I can't
+row fairly well on still water."
+
+That evening Forsyth had the felicity of sitting on the piazza, with
+Beatrice beside him, while his rival dejectedly led Queen round and
+round the Fort. His efforts at entertainment seemed to be unusually
+happy and effective, though he was too obtuse to notice that she
+laughed only when Ronald was in sight and, presumably, within hearing.
+
+Mackenzie sat with them for a while, but soon went in. "You take the
+first watch," he said to Robert, "and call Chan for the second. I've
+got to get up early in the morning, anyway."
+
+"All right, sir."
+
+"Do you think there's any use of watching?" she asked, when the trader
+had closed the door.
+
+"Of course," answered Robert, promptly. "If we were all asleep, no one
+would hear the gun and we might all be taken prisoners before we had a
+chance to get to the Fort."
+
+"Have you always watched out here?"
+
+"Yes, a part of the night, ever since we knew war had been declared."
+
+"It's lonely, isn't it?"
+
+"It might be, but I always have something pleasant to think about."
+
+Beatrice did not press the question further. "What time does the first
+watch end?"
+
+"Oh, along about midnight."
+
+"I'll stay with you," said the girl impulsively; "I had a long sleep
+this afternoon, and I'd love to help watch. May I?"
+
+Robert's heart beat loudly, but he controlled his voice. "Of course
+you may," he said.
+
+When Ronald's task was finished, he led Queen into the Fort.
+"Twenty-four," mused Beatrice. "He's skipped one, or else I didn't
+count right."
+
+"Twenty-four?" repeated Robert, inquiringly.
+
+"Yes," she said. "He had to take Queen around twenty-five times
+because he was bad this morning and tried to make me think I'd eaten
+Major. I don't like things like that."
+
+Robert laughed happily and felt an inexplicable generosity toward
+Ronald. "You didn't count right," he assured her. "He never would
+skip."
+
+"Perhaps not--anyhow, I'll let it go."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The hours passed as if on wings, and both were surprised when the
+deep-toned bell at the Fort tolled taps. The moon rose and a path of
+gold gleamed on the water, rippling gently with the night wind.
+
+"See," said Beatrice, softly, "it's always seemed to me as if one
+might row along that path, when the moon is low, and go straight in.
+When I was a child I used to think that I'd do it as soon as I got old
+enough to manage a boat by myself. I wondered why nobody ever went
+to the moon when it was so close, and I thought it would be a fine
+thing if I could be the first one to go. I couldn't see any doors,
+and concluded they must be on the other side; but I was sure I could
+row around when I got there, and I never doubted for an instant that
+the moon people would be delighted to see me. What strange fancies
+children have!"
+
+"You're only a child now," said Robert, huskily,--"a little, helpless
+child."
+
+"Helpless?" repeated Beatrice, with an odd little cadence at the end
+of the rising inflection; "I've never been told that before. See how
+strong my hands are!"
+
+Laughing, she offered a small, white, dimpled hand for his inspection.
+With an inarticulate cry he bent to kiss it, and she snatched it away,
+much offended.
+
+"You presume," she said, coldly. "Perhaps you think I'm like other
+girls!"
+
+"You are different from everybody in the world," he answered, in
+a low, tender tone. "They are clay like the rest of us, only of a
+finer sort, but you are a bit of priceless porcelain. You are made of
+flowers and stars and dreams--of sunlight and moonlight, Spring and
+dawn. All the beauty of the earth has gone to make you--violets for
+your eyes, a rose for your mouth, and white morning-glories for your
+hands. When you smile it is like the light of a midsummer noon; when
+you laugh it is the music of falling waters; when you sing to yourself
+it is like a bird in the wilderness, breaking one's heart with the
+exquisite sweetness of it. Darling! darling!" he cried, passionately;
+"no one in the world is like you!"
+
+Beatrice was trembling, and for the moment was dumb. Robert stood
+before her with his hands outstretched in pleading until, emboldened
+by her silence, he leaned forward to take her into his arms, and she
+moved swiftly aside.
+
+"Very pretty," she said, with an effort, and in a matter-of-fact tone,
+then she laughed. "I did not know you were a poet," she continued,
+rising and shaking out her skirts,--"the moonlight has made you mad."
+
+"Not the moonlight, sweetheart, but you!"
+
+"Well, the two of us, then," returned Beatrice, lightly. "It's getting
+late, and I must go."
+
+"No!" he cried. "You said you would stay till the end of my watch!"
+
+"That was before I knew you were a poet. No, I'm going back by
+myself--good-night, and pleasant dreams!"
+
+He untied the pirogue for her and helped her into it, his senses
+reeling at the momentary touch of her hand; and when she crossed the
+path of gold that lay upon the water, the light shone full upon her
+flower-like face. The man's blood surged into his heart with rapturous
+pain, as, exquisite, radiant, and unattainable, she passed through
+the gate of the Fort and out of his sight. He stood there long after
+she had vanished, shaken from head to foot by a passion as pure and
+exalted as Sir Galahad might have felt for Elaine.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE WORM TURNS
+
+
+"Beatrice," said Mrs. Mackenzie, "what day of the month is it?"
+
+"The eighth."
+
+"Why, no, it isn't," put in Mackenzie; "it's the ninth--isn't it, Rob?"
+
+"Certainly--the ninth of August."
+
+"Have it your own way," pouted Beatrice; "what do you suppose I care?"
+
+"There's George across the river," observed Mrs. Mackenzie. "I wonder
+why he doesn't come over!"
+
+"He's busy, I guess," said Robert; "but I think he will be over this
+afternoon."
+
+"How do you know?" inquired Beatrice, looking at him narrowly. "You
+haven't seen him to-day, have you?"
+
+"N--no," stammered Robert, uncomfortably. "I--I just thought so." For
+the first time he saw how ridiculous, from one point of view, their
+arrangement was, and became more anxious than ever to keep Beatrice in
+ignorance of it. Still, it had worked well, for neither had made any
+evident progress and their friendship was still unbroken.
+
+During the past week the girl had not failed to observe that she never
+saw Ronald and Forsyth together, except from her window, and had asked
+each of them in turn if there had been a quarrel. She had also noticed
+that her admirers were spasmodic, as it were, in their attentions,
+and had puzzled vainly over the fact. It seemed strange that, at the
+Fort, Ronald should leave her when Forsyth put in an appearance; or
+that when she sat on the piazza at the trading station, Forsyth should
+immediately find something else to do when Ronald came across the
+river.
+
+The Ensign had taken Queen out for the appointed exercise and was
+wondering how to kill the time until noon. He was staring vacantly
+into space at the very moment Robert had said he was "busy," but he
+soon decided to wash Major in the river.
+
+In spite of the heat the dog regarded the ceremony as a punishment
+rather than a luxury, and cowered as if from a blow when his master
+removed his coat and rolled up his sleeves. The basin of soft soap
+which Doctor Norton brought, in answer to a loud request from Ronald,
+was placed conveniently on the bank and operations began.
+
+Beatrice was leaning on the gate, in the shade of the poplar, and
+chose to consider the affair as undertaken solely for her amusement.
+"Isn't it nice of Mr. Ronald," she said, with mock gratitude, "to wash
+Major where we can all see him do it! If he were selfish, he'd take
+him away."
+
+Protesting barks from the victim punctuated her comment. "If he were
+selfish," replied Robert, pleasantly, "he wouldn't do it at all."
+
+"I have a mind to go over there," said the girl, suddenly.
+
+"Oh, don't!" begged Robert, with feeling.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Oh--because."
+
+"A woman's reason," said Beatrice, scornfully. "I'm going, anyhow."
+
+Robert was allowed to row her across, as a great favour; and Ronald,
+mindful of his agreement, was not particularly cordial.
+
+"I don't believe he likes it because I've come," she said, to Doctor
+Norton.
+
+"Oh, yes, he does," the Doctor assured her, gallantly.
+
+"Do you?" she inquired, directly, of Ronald.
+
+"Certainly."
+
+The Ensign's face was red, partly because of his exertions and partly
+because of various concealed emotions. Major had been thoroughly
+lathered with soft soap, and was being rinsed with basin after basin
+of water, whining, meanwhile, because soap was in his eyes.
+
+"There," said Ronald, when the black and white coat was thoroughly
+clean, "he'll be a beauty when he's dry--won't you, Major?"
+
+The dog shook himself vigorously and sprinkled every one except
+Beatrice, who was out of range. "Indeed he will," she answered, with
+suspicious warmth. "It's strange, isn't it, how washing improves pets?"
+
+Forsyth began to dread what was coming, but Ronald heedlessly stumbled
+into the snare. "Of course it improves 'em," he said. "It's worth
+doing, if only for artistic reasons."
+
+Her eyes danced and the dimples came and went at the corners of her
+mouth. "I would like," she began demurely, "to have Queen washed."
+
+"Lord!" muttered the Ensign, mopping his forehead with his sleeve.
+
+"Will you do it for me, Mr. Ronald?" she continued coaxingly.
+
+For an instant he hesitated, then the worm turned. "No," he said
+quietly, "I won't. You can wash your own horse."
+
+"Will you, Cousin Rob?" she asked sweetly, turning to Forsyth.
+
+The dull colour bronzed his face and he saw a steely glitter in
+Ronald's blue eyes. "No," he answered, emboldened by the other's
+example; "not by any means."
+
+"I haven't any friends," remarked Beatrice, sadly, to the Doctor.
+
+"Friends are one thing," retorted Ronald, hotly, "and body servants
+are another. I'm willing to lead your horse around, because it's too
+hot for you to ride her, and I wouldn't want to be seen riding a nag
+like that anyhow; but I won't bathe her nor comb her hair nor put on
+her shoes." He turned on his heel and walked away, the personification
+of offended dignity.
+
+Beatrice laughed, while Forsyth and the Doctor looked at her in
+amazement. "Oh," she gasped, "isn't he--isn't he funny when he's mad!"
+Ronald strode into the Fort and gave no sign of having heard, save by
+a tell-tale redness of the ears.
+
+Robert felt concerned in a way, but the Doctor was not. "You'll find,
+Miss Manning," he said judicially, "as you grow older, that there's a
+limit to everything and everybody."
+
+"Of course," returned the girl, seriously; "I was just locating it."
+
+"Shall we go back, now?" asked Robert.
+
+"No; I'm going to see Katherine."
+
+"Very well." He started toward the Fort with her and Norton followed
+them.
+
+"What?" she asked; "are you both coming, too?"
+
+"I'm not," said the Doctor, quietly.
+
+"Are you, Cousin Rob?"
+
+"Of course--I'm going wherever you do."
+
+Ronald was talking with Mrs. Franklin, and did not seem to see the two
+who went to the Lieutenant's. Robert brought chairs for Mrs. Howard
+and Beatrice and seated himself on the upper step.
+
+"Where's George?" asked Katherine. "Isn't he coming over?" She had
+grown accustomed to seeing the three together, and vaguely missed
+Ronald.
+
+"He was bad," explained the girl, fanning herself with her
+handkerchief, "and I think he's ashamed to come."
+
+"Bad--how?"
+
+"He wouldn't wash Queen. I asked him to, and he said he wouldn't.
+Cousin Rob wouldn't, either."
+
+"Well, I don't blame them. You seem to expect a good deal, Bee."
+
+"Oh," laughed Beatrice, "how serious you all are! I believe Mr. Ronald
+and Cousin Rob thought I meant it!"
+
+"You seemed to," put in Robert, in self-justification.
+
+"Men are very stupid," she observed, dispassionately; "but suppose
+I did mean it--what then? Were you in earnest when you said you
+wouldn't?"
+
+"Yes," said Robert, steadfastly; "whether you were joking or not, I
+was in earnest, and so was Ronald."
+
+Hitherto, men had not openly defied the girl's imperious will, and she
+had the sensation of unexpectedly encountering a brick wall. "Would
+you mind going over after my sewing?" she asked, suddenly.
+
+"Certainly not--where is it?"
+
+"Aunt Eleanor knows."
+
+"You're a sad flirt, Bee," remarked Mrs. Howard, as Forsyth went out
+of the Fort.
+
+"I am not," retorted Beatrice, with spirit. "Why shouldn't he go after
+my sewing?"
+
+"There's no reason why he shouldn't, if he wants to."
+
+"Well, he wants to," replied Beatrice, "otherwise he wouldn't. That's
+the man of it."
+
+"It seems strange," observed the other, meditatively, "that in a
+little place like this, on the very edge of the frontier, one girl can
+keep two men working hard all the time without half trying. On the
+face of it, there wouldn't seem to be enough to do."
+
+"It requires talent," admitted Beatrice, modestly, "if not genius. Mr.
+Ronald!" she called.
+
+The Ensign did not seem to hear. "Mr. Ronald!" she called again. There
+was no answer, though he must have heard.
+
+"He's in the sulks," explained Beatrice, "and if he wants to stay
+there, he can."
+
+"I wish you wouldn't do so, Bee," said Katherine, kindly.
+
+"Do what?" demanded Beatrice, with her violet eyes wide open.
+
+"You know what you're doing, and you needn't pretend that you don't."
+
+There was a long silence, then Beatrice sighed heavily. "I think I'll
+move," she said. "I can go to Detroit, or Fort Mackinac, or back East."
+
+Katherine's heart sank within her, for she knew she would miss the
+girl more than words could express. "You can't go," she said; "no one
+would go with you."
+
+"I should hope not. Queen and I could make the trip alone. If I decide
+to go, why, I'll go--that's all there is about it, war or no war. I
+know where the pickets are and I could get through the lines without
+any trouble. If you miss me some morning, you'll know that I've made
+my escape to some peaceful spot where there is no lecturing."
+
+She spoke with such calm assurance that Katherine was troubled. She
+swiftly determined to ask Captain Franklin to put an extra guard at
+the stables, then Beatrice laughed.
+
+"Poor Kit," she said affectionately, "why, you look as solemn as a
+priest! You don't think I'd go away and leave you, do you? You're too
+sweet," she cooed, rubbing her soft cheek against her cousin's.
+
+Forsyth, coming back with the sewing, was transfixed with sudden envy
+of Mrs. Howard. "I thought you were never coming," said the girl,
+smiling.
+
+"Did it seem long?" he asked, dazed by the implied compliment, for he
+had been in great haste.
+
+"Yes," said Beatrice; "but it wasn't your fault. It was because I was
+being lectured."
+
+Katherine's face grew delicately pink, and she looked at Beatrice
+imploringly.
+
+"Lectured!" repeated Forsyth. "Why, what for?"
+
+"She said I flirted--with you and Mr. Ronald."
+
+"When?"
+
+"Oh, you goose," laughed Beatrice. "She meant I did it all the time;
+but you don't care, do you?"
+
+"I don't know just what it is," said Robert, truthfully; "but if it's
+anything you do, I like it."
+
+"There!" said the girl, in a tone of great satisfaction; "you see,
+don't you, Kit?"
+
+"Yes," answered Mrs. Howard, "I see that you are incorrigible."
+
+Forsyth was content to listen and to watch Beatrice as she sewed.
+Prosaic needles and thread assumed a mysterious charm in the dimpled
+hands of the girl he loved. Pretty frowns and troubled shadows flitted
+across her face as the thread knotted, twisted, or broke, as it
+frequently did, because she was not familiar with her task.
+
+Ronald left Captain Franklin's and came across the parade-ground with
+a rapid stride. "Twelve o'clock!" he said, with a radiant smile. "You
+wouldn't think it, would you?" he added.
+
+"I shouldn't have suspected it," answered Forsyth, with double
+meaning; "I must be going back."
+
+"I'll go with you, Cousin Rob."
+
+"Me, too," put in Ronald, joyously.
+
+"You needn't," said the girl, coolly.
+
+"I'd just as soon--I'm going to row you across."
+
+"No, you're not; I came with Cousin Rob and I'm going back with him."
+
+"Suit yourself," returned the Ensign, good-humouredly, "the river is a
+public highway; but I'm going over to dinner."
+
+He was there first, and had wheedled an invitation from Mrs. Mackenzie
+before they got into the house. "Put me next to Beatrice, please," he
+said, as they came in.
+
+During dinner every one was in high spirits except Robert, who knew
+that he must efface himself all the afternoon. Some way, it was harder
+to have Ronald there than to know that he was with her at the Fort.
+
+However, he felt a wicked thrill of satisfaction when Beatrice pushed
+back her chair and began to gather up the dishes. "You needn't do
+that, Bee," remonstrated Mrs. Mackenzie.
+
+"I'm going to help you, Aunty, and then I'm going to take a nap. I'm
+dreadfully sleepy."
+
+Ronald's face fell. "You're lazy," he said reproachfully.
+
+"No, I'm not," she returned; "but I have to get rested, because
+to-morrow I'm going to wash Queen."
+
+"Beatrice Manning!" exclaimed Mrs. Mackenzie. "What in the world do
+you mean?"
+
+"I'll tell you all about it, Aunt Eleanor." In her own mind Beatrice
+had determined to make a pretence at Queen's bath the next morning, in
+front of the Fort, and see who would offer to help her.
+
+"I'm going to help with the dishes, too," announced Ronald.
+
+"You needn't, George," said Mrs. Mackenzie.
+
+"I'd rather he wouldn't," remarked Beatrice, critically, "because I
+don't think he's clean. He washed Major this morning."
+
+The shaft glanced aside harmlessly, because he prided himself upon his
+neatness. "I got my hand in this morning," he said imperturbably, "and
+I've washed many a dish in this very kitchen, long before you came,
+Miss Bee; didn't I, Aunt Eleanor?"
+
+"Indeed you did," answered Mrs. Mackenzie, warmly. "I don't know how
+I could have managed without you."
+
+"Very well," said the girl, lightly; "as long as you're used to it,
+and since you insist upon doing it, I'll go and take my nap right now."
+
+Robert, inwardly joyous, but outwardly calm, took his well-thumbed
+copy of Shakespeare and went out to read under the trees, while Mrs.
+Mackenzie and the Ensign laboured with the dishes, and Beatrice slept
+the sleep of the just.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was late in the afternoon when she came out, her eyes still
+languorous under their drooping lids, and found Ronald sitting alone
+upon the piazza.
+
+"Why, I didn't expect to see you here," she said, in a tone of pleased
+surprise.
+
+"You aren't very well acquainted with me," murmured Ronald, twisting
+uneasily in his chair.
+
+"I'd like to be," remarked Beatrice, with a winning smile.
+
+"Now's your chance, then, for I'm going to stay here until six
+o'clock."
+
+"That's a long time," sighed the girl, with a sidelong glance at him.
+"It isn't much after four now."
+
+He cleared his throat and coloured deeply. While he was casting about
+for a suitable reply, Forsyth appeared with his book. "Come and read
+to us, Cousin Rob," said Beatrice, sweetly.
+
+Ronald looked daggers at him when he hesitated. "Can't," he answered
+shortly; "I'm going to read to myself."
+
+He went back to his place under the poplars, in sight, but not
+intentionally within hearing, and Ronald was unreasonably vexed with
+him, deeming him outside the spirit, though within the letter of the
+bond.
+
+"I'm sorry he wouldn't read to us," observed Beatrice. "Cousin Rob has
+such a deep, melodious voice, don't you think so?"
+
+The Ensign was writhing inwardly, but managed to say, "Yes; very deep."
+
+Mackenzie came out and wasted half of a precious hour in talking,
+though Ronald answered only in monosyllables. Beatrice exerted her
+rarest powers of entertainment for her uncle's benefit, and he did not
+notice how the time passed.
+
+"Well," he said, at length, "I guess I'll go across for a bit. I want
+to see the Captain." Forsyth joined him at the gate, and Ronald heaved
+a sigh of relief when they were safely on their way to the Fort.
+
+"Your face is red, Mr. Ronald," said Beatrice. She was rewarded by
+seeing the colour deepen.
+
+"What makes it that way?" she asked, with the air of one pursuing a
+subject of scientific interest.
+
+"It's the heat," explained the Ensign, miserably; "didn't you know it
+was hot?"
+
+She shook her head. "I never know anything unless I'm told."
+
+"I believe you," he growled.
+
+"Mr. Ronald," she said, with a bewildering smile, "what makes you so
+cross to me?"
+
+"I--I'm not," he answered thickly.
+
+"Yes, you are--you're dreadfully cross to me, but you seem to get on
+all right with everybody else. I don't believe you like me!"
+
+The last remnant of his self-control deserted him. "No, I don't," he
+said, hotly. "Good God, Beatrice, I love you--can't you see that? Why
+do you torture me all the time?"
+
+Her face grew a shade paler, and her eyes refused to meet his. She
+knew she had been playing with fire, but none the less was surprised
+at the natural result, and was genuinely sorry that she had gone so
+far. She stared at the Fort, unseeing, and inwardly reproached herself
+bitterly.
+
+"Beatrice!" he gasped. "Say something to me, can't you?"
+
+She pointed to a cloud of dust in the south-west. "Look, some one is
+coming!"
+
+"I don't care," he said, roughly, possessing himself of her hand;
+"you've got to say something to me!"
+
+"I did," she returned, drawing away from him, "I told you somebody was
+coming. I think it's my relatives from Fort Wayne coming to take me
+back there."
+
+Ronald turned away, deeply pained, and the pathetic droop in his
+shoulders got safely through the thorns to the girl's heart. The cloud
+of dust came nearer and nearer, until at last the rider turned his
+foam-flecked horse and dashed up the esplanade to the Fort.
+
+Beatrice's temporary tenderness was obscured by curiosity, for the
+rider was an Indian, with the British flag girded at his loins.
+
+"Why," she said, in an odd little voice, "what has happened!"
+
+Ronald came swiftly toward her. "I don't know and I don't care," he
+said, in a voice she scarcely recognised; then he put his arm around
+her and drew her to him. "Beatrice, darling," he pleaded, "haven't
+you a word for me--don't you love me just the least little bit in the
+world?"
+
+Then the violet eyes looked up into his and the sweet lips quivered.
+"I--I don't know," she whispered brokenly; "please let me go!"
+
+His arms fell to his sides and she was free, but there was a lump in
+his throat and a wild hope in his heart. "My darling," he began, but
+she stopped him with a warning gesture.
+
+Forsyth was pulling across the river as if his life depended upon it,
+and for the first time they perceived that something was wrong. With
+his face white and every muscle of his body tense, he ran toward them.
+
+"What's up?" shouted Ronald.
+
+"Orders!" cried Forsyth, gasping for breath. "Fort Mackinac has fallen
+and we are ordered to evacuate the post!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+A COUNCIL OF WAR
+
+
+Forsyth had the second watch that night, and Mackenzie came out to
+join him. "I couldn't sleep," he said, in answer to Robert's question.
+"I don't know what we're coming to, but we mustn't frighten the women."
+
+"Of course I don't know anything about it," Robert returned, "but I
+must confess that I didn't like the looks of that Indian who brought
+the despatches."
+
+"He seemed fair enough, but you can't trust any of 'em and that's the
+whole truth of it. There's been some foul play somewhere, for he knew
+the purport of the order, and it strikes me that he had been a long
+time on the way."
+
+"What was it that he wanted you to tell Captain Franklin?"
+
+"He wanted me to find out whether the Captain intended to obey the
+order, and offered his advice to the contrary. He said the Fort
+was well supplied with ammunition and provisions--though it beats
+me to know where he found it out--and that it could be held until
+reinforcements arrived; but, if we decided to give up the post, it was
+better to go at once and leave everything standing. His idea was that
+the Indians would be so interested in plundering that they wouldn't
+follow us."
+
+"What did Franklin say?"
+
+"Nothing--he never says much, you know."
+
+"Who gave the order?"
+
+"General Hull--the Army of the North-west is at Detroit."
+
+"Perhaps reinforcements will be sent."
+
+"Hardly, in the face of an order to leave the post."
+
+"Why did he wear the British flag?"
+
+"Perhaps to secure safe passage through the country; perhaps to
+indicate an alliance with the enemy."
+
+"Lieutenant Howard has said all along that the Indians were with the
+British and against us. It begins to look as though he were right."
+
+"My boy," said Mackenzie, with a sigh, "wherever that flag waves,
+you'll find blood. The colour of it isn't an accident--it's a
+challenge and a warning."
+
+"Well," returned Robert, after a silence, "we'll have to do the best
+we can, and that's all any one can do."
+
+"I've wondered sometimes," said the other, thoughtfully, "if I haven't
+done wrong."
+
+"How, Uncle?"
+
+"Coming here--with Eleanor. I've brought her into danger, but God
+knows I haven't meant to. I've always had an adventurous spirit, and
+I couldn't live in the East--the hills choke me. Somebody has to
+blaze the trail to the new places, and I thought I might as well do
+it as anybody else. Things are moving westward, and some day, in this
+valley, there ought to be a great city about where the Fort stands
+now. It's the place for it--the river and the lake, with good farming
+country all around. I knew I couldn't live to see it, but I--I thought
+my children might."
+
+The man's voice wavered, but did not break. "It's a commonplace thing
+to do," he went on,--"go to a new place to live,--and our people have
+been doing it for more than two centuries. No soldiery, no blare of
+trumpets, nothing to make it seem fine--only discomfort, privation,
+and danger. The first settlers came from across the water, and since
+then we've been moving along, a step or two at a time. Some day,
+perhaps, people will leave this place to go to another farther on, and
+so keep going, till we reach the ocean on the other side. I haven't
+done anything," he added, with a short laugh, "only what the men of
+our race must do for a century and more to come."
+
+"You've done what was right, Uncle, and what seemed for the best--no
+one could do more. You've given Aunt Eleanor and the children a good
+home--shelter, warmth, food, and clothing. You've given your children
+sound minds, sound bodies, free air to breathe, and you're giving
+them an education. You'll find danger anywhere and everywhere--life
+hangs by a thread at its best. If it comes to a fight, we have arms
+and ammunition and fifty men, as strong and true as steel. We have
+modern weapons against arrows and tomahawks, military skill against
+savage instincts; and as for the British, why, I have my grandfather's
+sword, that fought them once at Lexington. They tried it and they
+failed--they'll fail again; but I say, let them come!"
+
+"God bless you, boy; you put new courage into me!"
+
+Soft darkness lay upon the earth, and pale stars shone fitfully from
+behind the clouds as slowly the night passed by. Across the river,
+with measured tread, the sentries kept guard at the Fort. Through one
+watch and well into another the two men sat there talking, with their
+voices lowered, lest the sleepers in the house should wake, and from
+each other taking heart for the morrow.
+
+The spirit of his dead fathers lived again in Forsyth; the blood that
+burned at Lexington took fire once more at Fort Dearborn. His heart
+beat high with that resolute courage which sees the end only, with no
+thought of the possible cost--it was as though Victory, in passing,
+to hover just beyond him, had brushed his face with her blood-stained
+wings.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the first light of morning, Beatrice came across the river from
+the Fort. Whether she knew of the impending danger or not, she showed
+no signs of fear. "Well," she said, "it was only yesterday that I
+told Kit I thought I'd move, and here's a military order to make it
+practicable. We're going with the soldiers--Queen and I."
+
+Forsyth smiled, but made no other answer, and she went on into the
+house. Mrs. Mackenzie did not appear, having passed a sleepless night;
+so Beatrice presided over the coffee-pot and made breakfast a gay
+affair. She revelled in her new authority, and took advantage of her
+position to tease the children.
+
+"Maria Indiana," she said, with mock severity, "you'll have to behave
+yourself better from now out, because I'm your mother."
+
+The child's eyes filled and a big tear rolled down one cheek. She slid
+out of her chair and instinctively went to Robert, as one who might be
+trusted. "Is Tuzzin Bee my muzzer?" she asked plaintively.
+
+"No, dear," he laughed, taking her up in his arms.
+
+"Give her to me!" cried Beatrice, snatching her away from him. "You
+darling," she said tenderly, as another tear followed the first one;
+"I'm not your 'muzzer,'--I'm only your 'Tuzzin Bee.'"
+
+"She's too little to joke with," said Forsyth, in an aside.
+
+"And I'm too big to be lectured," replied Beatrice, with a saucy
+smile. "We get on all right, don't we, baby?"
+
+Something in the girl's attitude, as she held the child in her arms,
+reminded Forsyth of a picture of the Madonna, and an unreasoning
+giddiness took possession of his senses. With a blind impulse to get
+away, he went out on the piazza, but Beatrice followed him.
+
+"Cousin Rob," she said, in a low tone, "please tell me the truth--is
+there danger?"
+
+There was no denial of that look in the eyes of the girl he loved,
+no chance to conceal the truth. He drew a quick inward breath as he
+thought, for the first time, what danger might mean to her. "Yes," he
+said, in a voice that was scarcely audible; "I am afraid there is."
+
+In a flash he saw that she had misunderstood him, but it was too late
+to explain. The colour flamed into her cheeks, and she held her head
+high. "I'm sorry you're afraid," she said, scornfully, "I'm not!"
+
+He looked after her helplessly as she went into the house, dazed by
+the consciousness that he had lost her forever. He knew then that
+she had never forgotten his failure to go up-stream with Ronald the
+night the Indians had been at Lee's, even though she had asked him to
+forgive her.
+
+"I have lost her," he said to himself, over and over again,--"I have
+lost her." Second thought convinced him that he had had no chance from
+the beginning--since the night he leaned on his musket in the shelter
+of the Fort; confused past the power of action, when the Ensign asked
+for volunteers.
+
+"Want to go over, Rob?" It was Mackenzie who asked the question, and
+Forsyth gladly welcomed the respite from his torturing thoughts.
+
+At the Fort all was changed, for the order had been read that morning
+on parade, and the men stood about in little groups earnestly
+discussing it. Mrs. Franklin and Katherine were on the porch at the
+Lieutenant's, and Robert went there, feeling that their society would
+be more bearable than that of the men.
+
+"If we go," said Katherine, "there'll be very little we can take with
+us."
+
+"If we go!" snapped Mrs. Franklin. "Do you think for a minute we're
+not going? A soldier's first duty is to obey orders!"
+
+Katherine turned a shade paler as she welcomed Forsyth. "Have you
+packed your belongings?" she asked.
+
+"Not yet," he answered, with a hollow laugh. The impending danger was
+obscured, in his mind, by something of infinitely more moment. "When
+do we start?" he inquired of Mrs. Franklin.
+
+"I don't know--Wallace hasn't decided. But we'll start when he says we
+will, and nobody need think we won't!"
+
+"Kit," said Mackenzie, as he joined the group, "I wish you'd go over
+to your mother--she isn't well. Bee is with her, but perhaps you
+could do something."
+
+"I'll go at once," replied Katherine.
+
+"And I must go home," said Mrs. Franklin. "If I can do anything, just
+let me know."
+
+Ronald and Lieutenant Howard were standing near the gate, and Forsyth
+stopped there when Mackenzie and Katherine went on home. "It's usual
+in such circumstances," Ronald was saying, bitterly, "to call a
+council of war."
+
+"And by the Lord," flashed the Lieutenant, "there shall be a council
+of war! What are we--children, or fools?"
+
+Ronald put a friendly arm across Forsyth's shoulders. "What do you
+think about it, old man?"
+
+"I haven't thought about it. I'm not a soldier, you know, and I'm not
+supposed to think. Of course, I'll obey orders, and if it comes to
+trouble, here's one more man to fight--I'm with you to the last."
+
+"Bully for you!" said Ronald. "If the Captain would listen to reason,
+there wouldn't be any trouble; but he won't--I know him too well."
+
+"He is only one man," put in the Lieutenant, with sinister
+significance.
+
+"And he is our superior officer," concluded Ronald. "Hello, Norton!"
+
+The Doctor and the Lieutenant exchanged cool salutations. The faces
+of the others were clouded, but the Doctor was as serene as the clear
+blue sky overhead. "Haven't you heard?" asked Forsyth, in astonishment.
+
+"What's the odds?" queried Norton, with a cynical shrug of his broad
+shoulders. "So far, we have one life and one death; at the end of one
+we meet the other--how does it matter, when or which way?"
+
+"It matters to me," said Ronald, huskily, "whether I die like a
+soldier or like a beast."
+
+"'Imperial Cæsar, dead and turned to clay,'" quoted Norton,
+suggestively. "Clay we were in the beginning and clay we shall be at
+the end. 'Dust thou art; to dust shalt thou return.'"
+
+Lieutenant Howard's white teeth showed in a sarcastic smile, but he
+said nothing. He seemed interested and even amused by the surgeon's
+point of view.
+
+"That's all very well for you," retorted Ronald, "because you're a
+selfish brute, with water in your veins instead of a man's blood. If
+you loved a woman----"
+
+The Lieutenant instantly stiffened. His smile disappeared, leaving a
+frown in its place, and Norton's face changed, almost imperceptibly.
+"If I loved a woman," he said, "I would protect her at the risk of my
+own life, my own happiness, my own soul. If need be, I would protect
+her even from herself. If I loved a woman she should think of me in
+just one way--as her shield."
+
+For the sheerest fraction of an instant his eyes met Howard's, openly
+and unashamed; then, with another shrug of his shoulders, he turned
+away, saying, "I must go back to my lint and my bandages--we may need
+them before long."
+
+Forsyth went back to the trading station, and the other two continued
+their uneasy march around the parade-ground. "I think," said the
+Lieutenant, "that the sane, reasoning men in the settlement, outside
+the ranks, ought to get together and talk to the Captain."
+
+"It won't do any good," replied Ronald, dubiously.
+
+"No? Perhaps not, but there's nothing like trying. We don't have to
+go, you know--it's not compulsory. The boys would be with us, and, as
+I said before, he's only one man."
+
+Ronald recoiled as if from a blow. "God, man," he said, thickly,
+"don't make me forget I'm a soldier!" He swallowed hard, and it
+was some time before he spoke again. "I don't mind telling you,
+privately, that I don't think much of Captain Franklin, nor," he
+added, as an afterthought, "of General Hull; but, in one sense at
+least, they're my superior officers. I don't know what's going to
+happen to me in the next world, nor even if there is any next world;
+but I'll march to the end of my enlistment with my soldier's honour
+still unstained."
+
+The Lieutenant gnawed his mustache in silence while Ronald walked
+beside him, breathing heavily. "It's madness," said the Ensign; "we
+all know that. The North-western Army is at Detroit, and the British
+are at Fort Mackinac--unless they've already started down here.
+Meanwhile, the Indians, leagued to a man with the enemy, are waiting
+for us to set foot outside the Fort. That fellow that brought the
+despatches dared to inquire what we were going to do--so the tribes
+could act in harmony, I suppose! Of course, it's possible that we can
+get through to Fort Wayne in safety, and go on to Detroit with a force
+large enough to clear our path--but I doubt it."
+
+"Well," said Howard, "let's have a try at it. Let's call a council of
+war."
+
+"All right--I'll go across for Mackenzie and Forsyth, while you get
+Norton."
+
+The Lieutenant waited until he saw the others coming before he
+delivered the message. The two men stood facing each other for a
+moment after the salute. "Doctor Norton," said Howard, stiffly, "we
+have called a council of war at Captain Franklin's, immediately. Will
+you be present?"
+
+"Yes; if you wish it, I will."
+
+"I do wish it," answered the Lieutenant, clearing his throat.
+
+Captain Franklin himself opened the door to the five men, and there
+was no trace of agitation in his manner as he welcomed them and bade
+them be seated. "To what do I owe the honour of this visit?" he
+inquired, after an awkward silence.
+
+"We have come for a word with you, Captain," replied Lieutenant
+Howard. "In effect, this is a council of war."
+
+"One moment please." The Captain went to the door, summoned his
+orderly, and gave him a whispered message. "Now, then, I am ready to
+listen."
+
+"Do you intend to obey this order from General Hull's headquarters?"
+
+"Certainly--why not?"
+
+"Captain," said Ronald, "we appreciate your position, but you must
+see that it is highly improbable that we should ever reach Detroit, or
+even Fort Wayne, in safety. Since war was declared against England,
+the Indians have been openly hostile. The country through which we
+must pass is infested with them, and they are in league with our
+enemies. For what reason do the English pay an annual tribute to the
+Indians, at the same time searching our ships on the high seas? Do you
+remember, before war was declared, two of the Calumet chiefs told you
+that our women would soon be hoeing in their corn-fields? If you need
+further proof, consider for a moment that the Indian who brought the
+despatches wore the blood-red flag of our enemy.
+
+"Captain, our march must be slow. We have women and children to
+protect, and feeble men of seventy and more in our own ranks. We have
+only a few horses, scarcely enough for the women, and about fifty
+fighting men. If General Hull had been acquainted with the conditions,
+he would not have given the order. As it is, we must act upon our own
+judgment, and, short of suicide, only one course seems to be open."
+
+"Is this your opinion also, Lieutenant Howard?"
+
+"It is."
+
+"Doctor Norton?"
+
+"I am not a military man, but I agree in substance with what has been
+said."
+
+"Mr. Mackenzie?"
+
+"I'm no soldier, either," said the trader, "but I think the proper
+course has been described. Of course, if we go, I'll lose everything
+I've got in the world; but I don't care for that, if we only do what's
+best."
+
+"Mr. Forsyth?"
+
+"Like my uncle, I'm no soldier, but I agree with Ensign Ronald. Still,
+I will do what seems best, obey whatever orders may be given by those
+in authority, and if you wish to send a messenger to Detroit I am at
+your service. I will take my horse and start at once."
+
+"Gentlemen," said the Captain, ignoring the suggestion, "I appreciate
+the spirit in which you have come to me, but it is impossible to
+disobey orders. A soldier's obedience is paramount to all other
+considerations. Special orders have been issued by the War Department
+that no post is to be surrendered without battle having been given.
+Our force is inadequate to cope with either Indians or British, and I
+should be severely censured for remaining, if not court-martialed.
+
+"On the other hand, even if the Indians are in league with the enemy
+because of the yearly distribution of presents, we have weapons of the
+same kind in our hands, and I shall not hesitate to use them. There is
+a prospect of a safe march through, and I propose to ally the Indians,
+temporarily at least, with us."
+
+Here the orderly entered, bringing with him Black Partridge.
+
+"Say to him," said Franklin to Mackenzie, "that the White Father bids
+him assemble his people from the four quarters of the earth before
+noon of to-morrow's sun." The trader translated rapidly as the Captain
+spoke.
+
+"Tell him that we have long dwelt side by side in peace and content,
+except when our brother, Black Partridge, was away from us, and the
+Winnebagoes, fearing nothing because our protectors were gone, fell
+upon us to kill.
+
+"Say that our Great White Father in Washington has bidden us to
+assemble at another place, even as he will bid his people to assemble
+here, and that, while our hearts are torn with sorrow, we must obey
+the command. Tell him that we wish him and his people to see us start
+upon our journey, and that our cattle and our provisions, our clothing
+and our supplies, at present in the storehouses of the Great White
+Father, will be given to him and his people as a parting gift. Tell
+him all this and ask him if he understands."
+
+Mackenzie was translating, sentence by sentence, and all eyes were
+turned upon Black Partridge. The Indian stood as calm and as immovable
+as stone, listening intently, with only the glitter of his eyes
+betraying any interest whatsoever.
+
+"Tell him that long shall remain in our hearts the memory of the
+kindness received at the hands of our brethren the Pottawattomies, and
+the wise counsel of the Great Chief who rules them. Some day, when
+other suns have run their course, and the Great White Father gives
+us permission, we shall return to live in peace once more with our
+brethren, the Pottawattomies, and their Great Chief, Black Partridge,
+who is our brother and our friend. Ask him if he understands."
+
+The harsh gutturals of the question fell upon the ears of the bronze
+statue, and, for the moment, there was a tense stillness in the room.
+Then the Indian signified that he understood, and withdrew as silently
+and as sinuously as a snake in the grass.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+"IF I WERE IN COMMAND"
+
+
+Long before the word had been given, the Indians were coming in.
+Winnebagoes, Ottawas, Chippewas, and Pottawattomies, from north,
+south, and west, were gathering in the woods around Fort Dearborn.
+Like the rattlesnake coiled to strike, like vultures drawn to a
+battlefield, silent, sinister, and deadly, the lines were closing in.
+
+Noon was the hour appointed for the council, and at that time Black
+Partridge, through Mackenzie, made known to Captain Franklin that it
+would be another day before all the Pottawattomies could be assembled.
+"Till noon of to-morrow's sun," said the Captain, sternly; "not one
+moment more."
+
+Beatrice, from the window of the trading station, saw innumerable
+Indians, dressed and painted in the manner of other tribes, carefully
+inspecting the house and barn as if appraising their value. The
+Agency building was haunted by others, who peered in furtively at
+the windows, hoping for an early look at the goods which were to be
+distributed among the tribes.
+
+Mrs. Mackenzie had recovered from the first shock and went about the
+house as usual, quiet yet cheerful, and patient with the children and
+her manifold household tasks. To Beatrice only she admitted her fear.
+
+"Don't talk about it, Aunt Eleanor--we must all try to think about
+something else."
+
+"Yes," sighed Mrs. Mackenzie, "we must not fret away the strength we
+will need for the journey. Your uncle has slept scarcely an hour since
+the news came."
+
+"I know, Aunt Eleanor, I know."
+
+"You must help me be brave, dear. Someway, of late, I have felt myself
+a coward, and it has made me ashamed. Not for myself alone, but for
+the children----"
+
+The sweet voice quivered, then broke; and for the moment Beatrice's
+eyes were dim, but she swiftly put the weakness from her.
+
+"There's nothing to be afraid of, Aunt Eleanor. The British haven't
+come, and as for the Indians, why, they wouldn't dare to attack the
+soldiers. We'll get to Fort Wayne, safe and sound, and perhaps the
+whole army will go on to Detroit with us. I wonder what my aunt and
+uncle will say when they see me riding Queen into Fort Wayne at the
+head of the troops!"
+
+Mrs. Mackenzie laughed in spite of herself. "I hope you're right, Bee."
+
+Forsyth and Ronald were walking back and forth in front of the
+Fort, talking earnestly. A little apart stood Mackenzie and Captain
+Franklin, while Indians went in and out of the stockade, apparently at
+pleasure.
+
+"Aunt Eleanor," said Beatrice, thoughtfully, "I read a story once
+about a girl. There were two men who--who--well, they liked her, you
+know. They were both good, but there was a difference. One always
+teased her and tormented her and made her feel at odds with herself,
+even though she knew he was just in fun.
+
+"The other always rested her. No matter how tired she was, or how much
+out of sorts she happened to be, it always made her feel better to
+be with him. He was quiet and his ways were gentle, and he knew more
+about--about books and things, you know. The other one was a soldier,
+and this one was a student, but he--he wasn't brave. He couldn't help
+it, but he was afraid."
+
+"A woman never could love a man who wasn't brave," said Mrs. Mackenzie.
+
+"No, of course she couldn't."
+
+"And if a man always teased and tormented a woman, and made her feel
+irritable, she would never be happy with him."
+
+"No; she couldn't expect to be."
+
+"Perhaps she had made a mistake about the other one--perhaps he really
+was brave."
+
+"No; because she saw him twice when she knew he was afraid."
+
+"Then she shouldn't marry either one."
+
+"That's what I thought," said Beatrice.
+
+"Which one did she marry?"
+
+"Who, Aunt Eleanor?"
+
+"Why, the girl in the story?"
+
+"Oh," answered Beatrice, colouring; "why, I--I've forgotten. It's
+queer, isn't it, how people forget things?"
+
+"What book was it in?"
+
+"I--I don't remember. My memory is poor, Aunt Eleanor. I'm going to my
+room, now, if you don't want me, and pack up some of my things."
+
+Red and white clover blossomed in the yard, where the children were
+playing, and a butterfly winged its way through the open window, then
+flew swiftly out again. Mrs. Mackenzie sat by the table with her
+face hidden in her hands, while childish voices came to her ears in
+laughing cadence and filled her heart with fear and pain. Then there
+was a touch upon her shoulder.
+
+"Eleanor!"
+
+"Why," she said, looking up, "I didn't hear you, John."
+
+Her clear eyes revealed a sadness beyond tears. "Eleanor," said her
+husband, with the muscles working about his mouth, "I can't bear for
+you to feel so."
+
+"I--I'm all right, John. Don't fret about me."
+
+"No, you ain't all right--don't you think I know? I've brought you
+into danger, Eleanor--I see it now, and that's the thing that hurts me
+most of all. It's nothing to lose all I've got, for that's happened
+to me before, and I'm only fifty--I can get it all back again, but
+I can't ever change the fact that I've brought you into danger. I
+promised before God that I'd protect you, and I haven't done it. I've
+taken you to a place where it ain't safe."
+
+The man's distress was pitiful. His gigantic frame was bent like an
+oak in the path of a furious storm and every line on his haggard face
+was distinct, as if it had been cut. His dark eyes, under their bushy
+brows, were utterly despairing; he was like one whose hope is dead and
+buried past the power of resurrection.
+
+"John, dear----" she began, with her hand on his bowed head.
+
+"I've brought you into danger," he said helplessly, "I've brought you
+into danger, you and--" A lump in his throat put an end to speech, and
+with his hand he indicated the children.
+
+"John, dear, don't talk so. I--I can't help feeling anxious, but I'm
+not afraid. In all the nine years we've lived here, the Indians have
+been our friends. There isn't one who would lift his hand against you
+or yours."
+
+"They ain't all our friends, Eleanor. There's hundreds and hundreds
+of them coming in, even from as far away as the Wabash. How should
+they know that we are their friends? I've brought you into danger," he
+repeated. "I can't ever forget that."
+
+"My husband," she said, and the tone was a caress, "we promised each
+other for better or for worse. 'Where thou goest, I will go, thy
+people shall be my people, and--' I forget the rest.
+
+"If we've come to danger, we'll meet it together, side by side.
+When I promised to marry you, I didn't mean it just for the smooth
+places, I meant it for all. In all these twelve years you've shielded
+me--whatever you could do to make things easier for me, you've done,
+and all that love and care has been in vain if I am not strong enough
+to do my part now.
+
+"There's never been a harsh word between us, John; we've never fussed
+and quarrelled as some married people do, and we never will. The road
+has been long, and sometimes it's been dusty and hot, but we've never
+walked on thorns, and whatever we've come to, you've always helped me
+through it.
+
+"If this is the end, why, there's nothing to look back on to make
+either of us ashamed, nothing to regret, not a word to be sorry for,
+not a single thing for which either of us should say 'Forgive me.' If
+this is death, we'll face it as I have dreamed we should, if God were
+good to us; we'll face it as I've prayed we might--hand in hand!"
+
+"Eleanor!" he cried, clasping her in his arms. "Brave heart, you give
+me faith! True soul, you make me strong!" His trembling lips sought
+hers, then on her face she felt his tears.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Well, upon my word!" said Beatrice, from the doorway. "I hope I don't
+interrupt?"
+
+Blushing like a schoolgirl, Mrs. Mackenzie released herself and the
+trader laughed mirthlessly. "You're a saucy minx, Bee," he said, with
+a little catch in his voice. Then the primitive masculine impulse
+asserted itself and he went out, covered with confusion.
+
+"What have you been doing, Bee?"
+
+"Nothing much. How pretty you are, Aunt Eleanor! I haven't seen your
+cheeks so pink for many a day."
+
+The deep colour mantled Mrs. Mackenzie's fair face. "Where's Robert?"
+she asked hastily.
+
+"Don't know," murmured Beatrice, instantly beating a retreat. "See,
+Aunt Eleanor."
+
+Out of the mysterious recesses of her pocket, she drew a bag, made of
+gay calico, with a long string attached to it.
+
+"Very pretty--what is it for, dear?"
+
+"It's for cartridges," laughed Beatrice. "If I ride with the soldiers,
+I have to bear arms. I've got my pistol--the one Mr. Ronald gave me
+the day after I came here, and I'm going over to the Fort now, after
+ammunition."
+
+She seemed to be in high spirits as she pirouetted around the room,
+but there was an undertone of sadness, even in her laugh. She was
+half-way to the door when she turned, moved by a sudden tenderness,
+and came back.
+
+"Dear, sweet Aunt Eleanor," she said, rubbing her cheek against Mrs.
+Mackenzie's, "you've always been so good to me. Perhaps you've thought
+me ungrateful, but truly I'm not, and I want to thank you now."
+
+"You've been like a second daughter to me, dear," said the other, a
+little unsteadily, "you've done more for me than I ever could do for
+you."
+
+Ronald was waiting for Beatrice on the other side of the river while
+she was pulling across, and she waved her bright coloured bag at him
+in gay fashion. "You gave me a gun," she said, "but you didn't give me
+anything to put in it. I want cartridges."
+
+"How many?" he asked, smiling.
+
+"As many as the bag will hold."
+
+"Foolish child, you never can carry all those."
+
+"Oh, but I can--you don't know how strong I am! I'm going to tie it
+around my waist, you know."
+
+"Happy bag," said Ronald, as he took it from her. "I'll get them for
+you," he continued, seriously.
+
+"One thing more," she said, with lowered voice. "If--if--well, the
+Indians will never get me. And they shall not have Queen. Where shall
+I shoot?"
+
+"Fire at the exact centre of the line between Queen's eyes."
+
+In spite of herself the girl shuddered. "And--and--?" she asked,
+looking up into his face.
+
+"The right temple," answered Ronald, huskily. "Heart's Desire, you are
+a mate for a king!"
+
+Forsyth passed them on his way to the entrance of the Fort, and
+Beatrice put out a restraining hand. "Where are you going, Cousin Rob?"
+
+"Home--to open school."
+
+"I thought this was vacation?"
+
+"It is, but it is better for the children, under the circumstances, to
+have their minds occupied."
+
+The oars splashed in the water, and Ronald turned to her again.
+"Darling--"
+
+"Look," interrupted Beatrice, "there's the Lieutenant." She hailed him
+merrily. "Cousin Ralph, is Katherine at home?"
+
+"I believe so," he answered, coming toward them; "if not, she's at
+Mrs. Franklin's."
+
+"I'm going to find her." She made an elaborate courtesy to each of
+them, and departed.
+
+"Ronald," said the Lieutenant, "this is absolute foolishness, and
+something has got to be done. How many hundred Indians do you suppose
+have already gathered here--and Black Partridge postponing the council
+till the rest get in--any fool can see what it means!"
+
+"Yes, any fool but the Captain," said the Ensign, bitterly.
+
+The parade-ground was deserted, for the August heats beat fiercely
+upon the land. Stray Indians went in and out, and the sentinel,
+with his musket over his shoulder, paced round and round the Fort.
+Lieutenant Howard cleared his throat.
+
+"The lives of the women and children are in our hands," he said, in a
+low tone. "I'm not speaking for ourselves, now. If Franklin is still
+set on this mad course, there's only one thing to do." His face and
+voice were eloquent with sinister meaning.
+
+The flag hung like a limp rag at the masthead and the long droning
+notes of the locusts sounded loudly in the tense stillness. "Murder,"
+whispered Ronald, with his face white.
+
+"Yes, murder, if you will have so. It's a harsh word, but I don't
+quibble at the term. 'Cæsar had his Brutus, King Charles his Cromwell,
+and----'"
+
+Ronald's head was bowed and his hands were tightly clenched. Sharp,
+hissing breaths came and went between his set teeth and the
+Lieutenant put his hand upon his shoulder.
+
+"Boy," he said, in a softer tone, "I'm a soldier, like you. So far,
+I've marched as you have, true to my colours, but of late, I've been
+wondering if it wasn't time to turn. Since the first soldiers marched
+against the enemy, there has been a false worship of orders--we have
+regarded the dictum of a commander as equivalent to a fiat of God.
+
+"Good men and true have gone to a needless death, because the
+commander was a fool. You know what we're coming to. You can see it,
+plain as day. Do you remember, up at Lee's that night, you felt the
+mutilated bodies of those two men, and came back, with your hands
+stained with their blood? Our boys will be treated worse than that, if
+the Captain has his way."
+
+"If you were in command--" said Ronald, thickly.
+
+"If I were in command, that order should be torn to bits and scattered
+to the four winds. Every ounce of food in the Agency storehouse, every
+pound of powder and shot, every musket, every rifle, and every pistol,
+should be brought into the Fort.
+
+"I would drive the cattle inside the enclosure, keep a few in the
+stables, kill the rest, salt down the meat, and preserve it. A cellar
+should be prepared for the women and children, a hospital corps
+drilled, the cannon in the blockhouses manned, and the gates of the
+Fort closed.
+
+"If I were in command there should be no needless slaughter, no
+torture of women and children, no disembowelling of our soldiers, no
+cutting our hearts out while we are still alive. No! We'd fight like
+soldiers, die like men; we'd hold the Fort till the flag was shot to
+pieces and not a man stood among its ashes to defend it, if I were in
+command!"
+
+"If you were in command--" muttered Ronald.
+
+"If I were in command, Fort Dearborn should go down to history with
+honour, not shame. Water and food are assured. What if the British
+with all their forces were hammering at our gates, allied with the red
+devils as they are! We have the Fort at our backs--they have the river
+and the open prairie. We could hold it for six months, if necessary.
+The War Department says: 'No post shall be surrendered without battle
+having been given,' and, by the Lord, we'd give a battle that would
+fill hell with our enemies. One stroke will do it--one bullet from our
+precious store of ammunition--one man brave enough to strike; but it
+must be done to-night--now!"
+
+The Ensign's face was ghastly. "Think what it means to you," whispered
+the Lieutenant. "Think of the woman you love! Oh, I know--I have not
+been blind. Would you see her put to the torture, stripped, violated,
+torn limb from limb by those fiends that even now are watching the
+Fort?
+
+"Think of their bloody, cruel hands upon her soft flesh--think of the
+torture--eyes burned out with charred sticks--finger-nails split off
+backward--things that there are no words to name, while Beatrice cries
+to you!
+
+"Boy, think of the woman you love, with her big childish eyes,--shall
+the savages burn them out? Her dimpled hands--shall her fingers be
+torn out, one by one? Her sweet voice--shall it cry to you in vain?
+Think of her fair white body, at the mercy of two thousand fiends!
+Think what she means to you--her beauty and her laughter--her
+tenderness and her thorns--then think of this! One man--one
+bullet--one moment--to-night--now!"
+
+His voice died into a hoarse whisper and Ronald writhed in anguish.
+For an instant, only, the scales hung in the balance, then he turned
+and faced him.
+
+"No!" he roared, "by God, no! I'll protect the woman I love while a
+drop of blood is left in my body--as long as this sword has a hand
+behind it to fight. If I am powerless to save her, she shall die at my
+hands, but I'll be no beast!
+
+"I'll not commit murder like a Brutus or a Cromwell. I'll not strike
+down my Captain like a thief in the night! I'll stab no man in the
+back--I'll meet him face to face in fair and open fight, and may the
+best man win!
+
+"Ralph, you're beside yourself--you don't know what you're saying.
+You're a soldier, man, you're not a brute! Stand fast to your
+soldier's honour, and let God do as He will!
+
+"We're all against him--officers and men. Perhaps there's not a man in
+barracks who would hesitate at what you ask--mutiny and insurrection
+stalk abroad in our midst, but, by the Lord, I'll obey my orders!
+Strike the blow if you will--go like a coward and a thief to take the
+life of a brave man, who is doing what seems to him his duty--hire
+your contemptible assassin if you choose, but remember this--the man
+who touches one hair of my Captain's head, answers for it--to me!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+SAVED FROM HIMSELF
+
+
+The morning of August twelfth dawned with burning heat. The lake lay
+as smooth as a sea of glass and from the south-west came the dreaded
+wind of the prairies, hot as a blast from a furnace and laden with
+dust. The sun blazed pitilessly in a cloudless sky and countless
+Indians patrolled the Fort, the Agency House, and the trading station.
+
+The newcomers were alive with curiosity. Many of them had never seen
+the Fort before, and they swarmed in and out unceasingly. Through
+the wicket gate and the main entrance, past the soldiers' barracks,
+guard-house, hospital, storehouse, magazine, and contractor's store,
+back and forth between the officers' barracks, the Indians continually
+passed. They lay down on their faces to smell of the drain, muttered
+unintelligibly when they came to the subterranean passage, and
+wondered at the flag, with its fifteen stripes and fifteen stars, that
+hung limply at the staff.
+
+They openly defied the sentinels at the gate, climbed into the
+blockhouses, where they surreptitiously felt of the cannon and peered
+furtively into the muzzles, and even went into the officers' quarters.
+It was the kind of a visit that one makes to an occupied house, on the
+eve of taking possession.
+
+"Wallace," said Mrs. Franklin, "isn't there any way to keep these
+people out of the Fort?"
+
+"Why, I hadn't thought about it," returned the Captain, absently.
+"They're not doing any harm, are they?"
+
+"They haven't as yet," retorted Mrs. Franklin, with spirit, "but
+they're likely to at any moment. I don't want them in my house, and I
+won't have them here!"
+
+"Tell them so," laughed the Captain. "I have no doubt of the
+effectiveness of your request."
+
+"Don't make fun of me."
+
+"I'm not making fun of you, dear, but it is of the utmost importance
+that we do nothing to excite the Indians. If they think we are
+unfriendly, mischief may easily result. I suppose our houses and the
+Fort have the same interest for them that their wigwams and blankets
+had for us, when we first saw Indians. Personally, I have no objection
+whatever to their examining our weapons of offence and defence."
+
+Mrs. Franklin sighed. "When do we go?" she asked.
+
+"As soon as possible after the council, which will be held this
+afternoon. It takes time, however, to prepare sixty or seventy people
+for a long overland journey."
+
+"I wish we had boats."
+
+"So do I, but we haven't. Still, I don't know that we'd be any better
+off, at the mouth of the St. Joseph River, without guides, than we
+are here. There may be a trail from the river across to Detroit, but
+I don't know anything about it. Lieutenant Swearingen marched his
+company around by land, when the Fort was built. When we get to Fort
+Wayne, we'll either stay there, or go on to Detroit with a larger
+force. It depends upon the movements of the British."
+
+"Some way, Wallace, I'm afraid of trouble--I don't know why."
+
+"I don't think there'll be any trouble, dear, but the idea that
+it would be right and proper to disobey the order appears to be
+spreading. Mackenzie is at the bottom of it, of course, and I don't
+know that we should blame him, for it means heavy financial loss to
+him. Yet he never could have established himself here if it had not
+been for the Fort, and it is his place to uphold the military, rather
+than to work against it; but there's no accounting for the vagaries
+of the human mind. All of his work here has been contingent upon the
+protection of the Fort; when that is withdrawn, he has no right to
+complain. Civilians seem to think that an order doesn't mean anything
+in particular--it's to be obeyed or not, as suits their erratic fancy.
+A soldier is a man who obeys orders--when he is no longer willing to
+do that he should get a discharge."
+
+"Do you think the Indians will destroy this house, after we leave?"
+
+"Probably, and the Fort also. Quarrels are bound to occur among the
+different tribes before long, and while they are settling their
+disputes in their own way, we'll get well on to Fort Wayne."
+
+"I've thought," said Mrs. Franklin, slowly, "that Lieutenant Howard
+was inclined to make trouble. I haven't had any reason to think so,
+but I can't get it out of my head."
+
+"It's quite possible," returned the Captain, with a significant shrug
+of his shoulders, "for he is one of the men who are always against
+everything they do not originate. He's been chafing at his bit all
+along because he isn't in command. If he were Captain, he'd want to
+be a step higher--I suppose he thinks himself capable of handling
+the whole army. But don't bother yourself about it, dear--we'll get
+through some way. I must go, now--I've got things to see to."
+
+In and out of the stockade, parties of Indians were still passing,
+braves and squaws, who took great interest in their new surroundings.
+Mrs. Franklin locked her door, but savage faces continually appeared
+at the windows and at last she determined to go out upon the
+parade-ground and find a soldier or two to protect her.
+
+When she opened the door, she started violently, and put her hand upon
+her heart.
+
+"I'm sorry I frightened you," said Katherine. "I'm frightened myself.
+I don't like to have those Indians running in and out. Four squaws
+just came into my house and began to look around, just as if I had
+something that belonged to them. I don't know what they're doing
+now--they're still there. Can't we get some of the boys to drive them
+out and shut the gates?"
+
+Before there was time for an answer, three braves and two squaws
+entered the Captain's house and began to inspect the furnishings
+of the room. Katherine was stiff with terror, but Mrs. Franklin was
+angry. She held her peace, however, until one of the warriors took
+down a musket from the wall, aimed it at the ceiling, and fired.
+
+In an instant the Captain's wife was on her feet. Her husband's rifle
+was on the table behind her, and quick as a flash, she levelled it at
+the intruders. "Out of my house, you dogs!" she cried, and the Indians
+retreated, pausing outside just long enough to make savage grimaces at
+the women.
+
+The report of the musket brought Ronald and some soldiers to the
+rescue. "What's up?" he asked, looking from one to the other.
+
+It was Katherine who explained, for Mrs. Franklin's courage had
+deserted her, and she was trembling so she could not speak. "Cheer up,
+Mamie," said the Ensign--"I'll see to it."
+
+Upon his own responsibility, he cleared the Fort of the intruders,
+closed the south gate, and put a double line of armed sentinels at the
+north entrance.
+
+No sooner was it accomplished than Captain Franklin came out of the
+offices. "May I ask," he sarcastically inquired of Ronald, "by whose
+authority you have done this?"
+
+The Ensign saluted. "By the authority of a Second Lieutenant who sees
+the wife of his Captain in danger," he answered stiffly, then turned
+on his heel and walked away.
+
+The two women were sitting on the piazza and the Captain did not share
+Ronald's fears for their safety. Mackenzie and Black Partridge passed
+through the line of sentinels and he went to meet them.
+
+"He says," began the trader, indicating the chief, "that noon of the
+sun is too early for the council, but that at the second hour after
+noon, he and his people will be assembled upon the esplanade, to await
+the pleasure of the White Father."
+
+"Very well," said the Captain, carelessly.
+
+Black Partridge went out and the Indians at once began to rally around
+him. At least a thousand, including the squaws, came out of the woods
+and were assigned to different stations, according to their rank. The
+chiefs of the several branches of the Pottawattomies and the chiefs
+of allied tribes, had places of honour in the front ranks. The braves
+and young warriors came next, and the squaws were grouped a little way
+off, by themselves.
+
+For fully an hour before the appointed time, the solid phalanx waited
+in the broiling sun. Some of the squaws sat upon the hot ground,
+but the braves stood, silent and statuesque, with grim fortitude.
+The Ensign went to the gate of the Fort and took a long look at the
+assembly, frankly admitting to himself that he did not like the
+appearance of it.
+
+When he had turned back and had passed the sentinels, Doctor Norton
+stopped him. "Ronald," he said, in a low tone, "the boys are talking
+mutiny."
+
+The Ensign considered a moment. "How do you know?"
+
+"Well, I've overheard two or three significant remarks that seemed to
+point in the same direction."
+
+"Who began it?"
+
+"It seems to have started in about fifty places at once."
+
+"Do you know the names of the men?"
+
+"No, I do not." Ronald knew that the Doctor lied, and respected him
+for it.
+
+"Do you think the boys thought of it by themselves?"
+
+"I should judge so--I didn't hear any references to the officers."
+
+Ronald looked at him quickly but he appeared unconscious. "I just
+thought I'd tell you," he continued. "Of course, it's none of my
+affair."
+
+"All right--much obliged to you."
+
+The Doctor went away and Ronald went immediately to his superior
+officer. "Lieutenant Howard," he demanded sternly, "have you been
+talking mutiny to the men?"
+
+Howard's eyes met his squarely. "No," he said sharply, "have you?"
+
+Ronald retreated, shamefaced and ill at ease. "I--I beg your pardon."
+
+"The boys aren't fools," laughed the Lieutenant. "They can see farther
+than some. I've spoken to no one but you, but if mutiny arises, I'll
+let it take its rightful course."
+
+"Well, I won't. Remember what I said."
+
+"I can't remember all your valuable utterances. Don't cast your pearls
+before swine, but reserve them for--for a more appreciative audience."
+
+Stung to the quick by the insult, Ronald instinctively put his hand on
+his sword. Then both saw the Captain coming swiftly toward them, and
+waited.
+
+"It is time for the council," he said.
+
+"Well?" queried the Lieutenant, after an awkward pause.
+
+"Are you going with me?"
+
+Silence.
+
+"Lieutenant Howard and Ensign Ronald, it is time for the council I
+have appointed with the Indians. Are you going with me?"
+
+"An order, Captain?" inquired Ronald.
+
+"Neither an order nor a request--not even a suggestion. It is an
+opportunity, to be taken or not, as you choose."
+
+"Speaking for myself," said Ronald, "I do not see what we could
+accomplish by going. You are the army and the officers of it."
+
+"As you pay no attention to our suggestions," remarked the Lieutenant,
+"I prefer to remain here."
+
+"Very well." The Captain and Mackenzie went out alone.
+
+"Better go to the blockhouse, hadn't we?" asked Ronald. "There may be
+trouble."
+
+"I hope there will be," answered Howard. "Let Franklin fight it out
+alone with his precious Indians. Providence may yet intervene and give
+me the command."
+
+Ronald went to the blockhouse alone, trained the cannon at the
+port-holes, and watched the Indians. After the first formal greetings
+were exchanged, the business of the afternoon began. Franklin spoke to
+Mackenzie, who translated for the benefit of Black Partridge, and he,
+in turn, conveyed the message to the assembly.
+
+"We come for the last time," said Captain Franklin, "to speak with our
+brothers, the red men. Your Great Chief has told you how our Great
+Chief has bidden us to assemble at another place and how, though our
+hearts are torn with sorrow, we must obey the command. We have sent
+swift messengers a day's journey and more on every side, that we might
+say farewell to those with whom we have so long dwelt in peace. The
+goods in yonder storehouse, by the mandate of the Great White Father,
+are to be given to our brothers as a parting gift, that they may long
+hold us in kindly remembrance, as we shall them.
+
+"We ask, however, a favour in return. We ask that some of our noble
+brothers, such as it may please, shall escort us to Fort Wayne, the
+place of our first assembly, and long known to the red men, who
+have many friends there. We ask that our brothers shall aid us in
+protecting our women and children from the dangers of the trail. If
+any are graciously inclined to do this kindness for us, we shall press
+upon them still other gifts when we reach our destination."
+
+Black Partridge, in a loud voice, repeated the speech in the Indian
+tongue. Each of the chiefs in the front rank then expressed an
+opinion upon the subject, as he was asked by the spokesman. Then Black
+Partridge spoke apart with Mackenzie.
+
+"They say," said the interpreter, "that it is well. They will joyously
+receive the goods in the storehouse as a parting gift from their white
+brothers, beside whom they have so long dwelt in peace. The plains
+will be lonely and the river sad without the palefaces. The houses
+of the Great White Father will be desolate when the friends of the
+red men are gone, but as it is written, so must it be. The bravest of
+the warriors will attend on the trail to Fort Wayne and safely shield
+the friends of the red men from savages and wild beasts. From all
+that stalks abroad with intent to slay, the friends of the palefaces
+will guard them. Let the children of the Great White Father have no
+fear. All shall be well. Side by side shall they journey with their
+brothers, the Pottawattomies and the allied tribes. In three moons, or
+perhaps two, if the Great Spirit is kind, the palefaces will return to
+dwell with their brothers once more, when their assembly is over and
+the Great White Father has made known unto them his commands."
+
+"Tell them," said Captain Franklin, "that at the same hour of
+to-morrow's sun, the presents shall be given them. They shall have
+blankets, prints, calicoes, broadcloths, and adornments for their
+women and their papooses. For the Great Chiefs there will be tobacco,
+war paints, cunning contrivances for the sharpening of weapons, and
+provisions against the long cold Winter when the hunting grounds
+are barren, which is but four moons away. Say that the Great White
+Father will be pleased when he learns how the Great Chiefs, with their
+fearless braves and warriors, have safely guided his children unto the
+place of assembly."
+
+"They say it is well," said Mackenzie, after the speech and its answer
+had been duly made, "and that at the same hour of to-morrow's sun they
+will assemble here, to receive the parting tokens of the Great White
+Father."
+
+With much ceremony, the council was concluded and the Indians
+dispersed. Black Partridge lingered to express his pleasure because
+all had gone well, then he, too, went along the river bank to the
+woods where the Indians were gathered.
+
+"Captain," said Mackenzie, "I want to talk to you a bit."
+
+"All right--let's go back to the Fort, where it's cooler."
+
+Ronald came down from the blockhouse as they entered the stockade and
+went across the river, where Beatrice was visible at a shaded window.
+
+"How about the ammunition and liquor?" asked the trader. "Are you
+going to include that in the distribution?"
+
+"I hadn't thought about it--why?"
+
+"It's risky," said Mackenzie. "We don't want to furnish them with
+weapons to use against us. Arm those seven hundred Indians with
+muskets, give them powder and shot, fill them up with liquor, and
+where would we be?"
+
+"It might amuse them," replied the Captain, thoughtfully. "If there
+was whiskey enough in the storehouse to get every man of them dead
+drunk, except our guides, it might be the best thing to do."
+
+"Unfortunately, we can't force the proper quantity down the throat of
+each one. Some are wiser than the rest and they wouldn't drink."
+
+"Well, suppose they had the muskets--wouldn't they use them against
+each other?"
+
+"No," said the trader, conclusively, "they wouldn't. They'd turn
+against us."
+
+"I hardly think that any of them will go with us, except Black
+Partridge and a few of his friends. By to-morrow, numerous fights
+will have started, and they'll be too busy to notice our departure.
+Besides, they have promised."
+
+"Captain Franklin, the promise of an Indian is absolutely worthless,
+as you must know by this time. Since the troubles on the Wabash, the
+general trend of feeling toward us has been hostile. Their tomahawks
+are bad enough--they don't need our own weapons. When I got as far as
+De Charme's, last Fall, on my way to Detroit, and heard of the battle
+of Tippecanoe, I turned back immediately to Fort Dearborn and sent
+messengers to the outer trading posts with positive orders to furnish
+neither ammunition nor liquor to the Indians. Do you remember?"
+
+"Yes, I remember. Perhaps it would be as well to keep back the liquor
+and ammunition, but in that case, they must not know we have them. How
+can we manage?"
+
+"Bring everything into the Fort secretly, by night, and destroy it."
+
+"Very well," said the Captain, after a silence; "you have had better
+opportunities than I have had to gain an intimate knowledge of the
+Indians. To-night and to-morrow night, as secretly as may be, I will
+have the goods brought in and destroyed."
+
+After Mackenzie went home, the Captain went out to walk back and forth
+on the prairie near the Fort. His head was bowed and his arms were
+folded. In spite of General Hull's order and the friendly professions
+of the Indians, he felt the situation keenly. His responsibility sat
+heavily upon him, for he knew his officers were opposed to him and had
+begun to suspect that the men were disaffected. He would not have been
+surprised at a mutiny, feeling, as he did, that it was a case of one
+man against the world.
+
+From a window, Katherine saw him walking to and fro, and at first
+she thought it was her husband, but a second look convinced her of
+her mistake. She was about to turn away when something arrested her
+attention.
+
+On the Captain's right, and at some little distance from him, an
+Indian was moving stealthily toward the Fort. On his left, and still
+farther away from him, another was doing the same thing.
+
+The Captain turned to the right, and instantly the Indian on that side
+dropped full length on the grass, while the other moved more quickly
+toward the Fort. When the Captain turned to the left the manoeuvre
+was repeated, but it was some time before she grasped the horrid
+significance of their actions.
+
+When she perceived that both Indians were endeavouring to get
+between the Captain and the Fort, the blood froze in her veins. The
+parade-ground was deserted, and the long, droning notes of the locusts
+were the only sound she heard. She screamed, but the Captain did not
+turn, and no one seemed to hear. At the gate the sentinel leaned on
+his musket, unconscious of danger. She screamed again, but could not
+hear her own voice.
+
+Then the springs of action threw off their lethargy. She dashed out of
+the house and flew over the parade-ground, with the taste of hot blood
+in her mouth and a heavy weight upon her breast. Trembling in every
+nerve, she climbed the ladder that led to the blockhouse, and entered,
+flushed and gasping. She was dimly conscious that she was not alone,
+but there was no time to waste.
+
+Praying that she might not be too late, she seized a loaded musket,
+aimed through the porthole, and fired. It seemed an age before she saw
+the Captain through the smoke, running back to the Fort, and the two
+Indians making for the woods.
+
+"Thank God!" she breathed, "thank God!" Then she turned--and faced her
+husband, his face so ghastly that she scarcely knew him.
+
+"Ralph!" she whispered, hoarsely. "Ralph!"
+
+His eyes refused to meet hers, and a tumult surged in her brain.
+Detached pictures of her childhood, confused and unrelated memories,
+and a thousand trivial things passed swiftly before her mental vision.
+Then, as if by magic, there was a clearing--all things gave way to the
+horrible knowledge that he had seen--and had failed to warn.
+
+"Ralph! Ralph! My husband!"
+
+The blood beat hard in her pulses and her lips curled in scorn. Then
+her unspeakable contempt melted to pity, as she saw how the man was
+suffering. Like an avenging angel she stood before him, confronting
+him mutely with his sin.
+
+Captain Franklin came into the Fort. As the Lieutenant saw him safe
+and sound, he groaned deeply, like one whose suspense is ended. Then
+he raised his eyes to the face of his wife.
+
+"I thank you, Katherine," he said, gravely; "you have saved me from
+myself."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+RECONCILIATION
+
+
+That night, while the sentries kept guard, Lieutenant Howard paced to
+and fro, as sleepless and as vigilant as they. Now and then parties
+of soldiers came through the gates with ammunition or liquor from the
+Agency, and piled it in front of the storehouse to await the Captain's
+orders. Throughout the night the contraband goods were transported, as
+quietly as possible, in order that the suspicions of the Indians might
+not be aroused.
+
+The Second in Command was in the midst of that battle with self which
+every man fights at least once in his life. The events of the past
+few days and his own part in them confronted him with persistent
+accusation. The prairie beyond the Fort and the figure of the Captain
+were etched upon his mental vision with the acid of relentless memory.
+
+The scales fell from his eyes at last, and he saw himself
+clearly--mutinous, insubordinate, unworthy of his office; distrusting
+his wife and alienating his friends. Conscience, too long asleep,
+awoke to demand such reparation as lay in his power to make.
+
+Ten minutes more and it would have been too late. Ten minutes more and
+the deadly tomahawk of an unseen foe would have been buried in the
+Captain's brain. That little space of time was all that stood between
+him and the command of Fort Dearborn--a command which he had planned
+to use in open rebellion against the orders of his superior officer.
+
+Cold sweat stood out upon his forehead, and his clenched hands
+trembled. Ten minutes more and he would have been a murderer in deed
+as well as in thought, though his hands would not have been stained
+and there would have been no proof of his guilt. The pine knots blazed
+fitfully in the crevices of the stockade, turning to a ghastly glare
+as daylight came on. "A murderer!" he said to himself over and over
+again; "a murderer!" He was like one who wakes from some horrible
+nightmare with the spell of it still upon him, and wondering yet if it
+is not true.
+
+Behind it all was a new emotion,--a new feeling for Katherine. Her
+hand had saved him. She had drawn him back from the brink of the abyss
+even as the ground was crumbling beneath his feet--Katherine, his
+wife, whom he had sworn to love and to cherish, and whom he had made
+miserable instead. To-morrow, or at most the day after, would see the
+end of it all. Two days remained in which to make atonement--two days,
+snatched from the past, to fulfil the promise of the future that once
+had seemed so fair.
+
+"All in, sir," said a soldier. "Not a box nor a barrel is left at
+the Agency. It's all there." He pointed to a pyramid in front of the
+storehouse, which was almost as high as the building itself.
+
+"No one saw you?" queried the Lieutenant.
+
+"No, sir; no one saw. One of the pickets has just come in, and he
+says, sir, that every blamed Injun is up in the north woods. There's
+been a dance going on all night."
+
+"Very well," answered the Lieutenant, carelessly; but his heart sank
+within him.
+
+"Mad Margaret was there, too, sir--she was havin' one of her spells."
+
+"Well," said the Lieutenant, sharply, "what of it?"
+
+"Nothing, sir--excuse me, sir." The soldier saluted and went away.
+
+The night wind died down and the sun rose in a fury of heat. No clouds
+softened the hard, metallic sky--it was like a concave mirror on which
+the sun beat pitilessly.
+
+The guard was changed, and presently Doctor Norton came out on the
+parade-ground. When he saw who was there, he turned to go back, then
+waited, for the Lieutenant was coming swiftly toward him.
+
+They faced each other for a moment, like adversaries measuring the
+opposing strength, then Norton smiled. "Well?" he asked calmly.
+
+"I have not come to you," said the Lieutenant, thickly, "as you have
+doubtless expected me to. We have no time to cherish any sort of a
+grudge when, in two days at least, we start for Fort Wayne. You know
+what awaits us on the way, and if worst comes to worst, and I can no
+longer protect her, I ask you to make Mrs. Howard your especial care."
+
+Schooled as he was in self-control, the Doctor started, and the
+expression of his face changed as he looked keenly at the Lieutenant.
+
+"What!" cried the other, scornfully, "are you not willing to do that
+much for her?"
+
+"Lieutenant Howard, as you say, it is no time to cherish a grudge.
+What you have asked of me would be an honour at any time, but I will
+not accept the trust until you know from me how I stand. I love your
+wife with all my heart and soul."
+
+"Have you told her so?" asked Howard, quickly.
+
+"In words, no--but I think she understands--in fact, I hope and
+believe that she understands."
+
+The silence was tense, and Lieutenant Howard gnawed his mustache
+nervously. His hand went to his belt instinctively, then dropped to
+his side.
+
+"I fear you have misjudged her," the Doctor continued. "A purer, truer
+woman never drew the breath of life. In word or act or thought she has
+never been disloyal to you. I said a moment ago that I loved her, but
+it is more than that--it is the worship that a man gives to a woman as
+far above him as the stars."
+
+"In that case," said Howard, in a hoarse whisper, "you are well fitted
+to protect her."
+
+"You still offer me that trust?" asked the other, eagerly.
+
+The answer was scarcely audible. "I do."
+
+Their eyes met in a long look of keen scrutiny on one side, and of
+fearless honesty upon the other. Then Norton extended his hand. The
+Lieutenant grasped it, caught his breath quickly, then turned away,
+for once the master of himself.
+
+Beatrice came out of the Captain's house and smiled at him as he stood
+there with his head bowed. "You're--you're out early," he said, with
+an effort.
+
+"I couldn't sleep. It was hot, and--Cousin Ralph, you must tell me. I
+am not a child, to be kept in the dark. What is this horrible thing
+that seems to be hovering over us? Uncle John does not speak to any
+one; twice yesterday I found Aunt Eleanor crying; Cousin Rob and Mr.
+Ronald are not in the least like themselves; Kit and Mrs. Franklin are
+as pale as ghosts, and you--I saw you walking here all night. What
+does it mean? Tell me!"
+
+"We fear attack," he answered sharply.
+
+"Indians or British?"
+
+"Indians--under British orders."
+
+For a moment the girl stared at him as if she did not believe what he
+said. "Would they--would they--" she gasped, "turn those fiends upon
+us?"
+
+"Yes," he cried, "they would! They have done so in times past and
+they will do so again! They--I beg your pardon--I have forgotten
+myself--I--I--"
+
+"Cousin Ralph, you are not well. You have walked all night, and you
+need rest. I understand your anxiety, your fears for us, but you need
+not be alarmed. We are women, but we are weak only in body--at heart
+we are soldiers like you, and, like you, we will obey orders. Cousin
+Ralph! You are ill! Come!"
+
+He staggered, but did not fall. Beatrice put her arm around him and
+helped him home. "Don't be frightened, Kit," she said, when the door
+was opened; "he's just tired. He's been up all night and sleep will
+bring him to himself again."
+
+"Can I help?" asked Forsyth, anxiously. He had come to ask Beatrice if
+she would not breakfast at home.
+
+"Yes, please," said Mrs. Howard, quietly. "Help me get him into bed.
+He has been under a great nervous strain."
+
+Beatrice sat on the piazza and waited. She had said she was not weak,
+but she was suffering keenly, none the less. After a little Robert
+came back. "He went to sleep immediately," he said; "but Mrs. Howard
+prefers to stay with him."
+
+"Then we'll go home," she sighed. Together they went out of the
+stockade into the merciless heat that already had set shimmering waves
+to vibrating in the air. She drooped like a broken lily--her strength
+was gone.
+
+Robert's heart went out to her in pity, and something more. When they
+reached the piazza he put his hand upon her arm. "Beatrice, dear," he
+said, softly, "lean on me. I cannot bear to see you so--my darling,
+let me help you!"
+
+His voice shook, but she did not seem to hear. "I'm tired," she
+answered dully; "I--I didn't sleep." She put him away from her very
+gently. "I--I'm so tired," she repeated, with an hysterical laugh that
+sounded like a sob. "I don't want any breakfast--I just want to lie
+down and rest. Don't let Aunt Eleanor worry."
+
+She went down the passage unsteadily, and he watched her until she was
+safely within her own room. He quieted Mrs. Mackenzie's fears as best
+he could, and managed to eat a part of his breakfast, though it was as
+dust and ashes in his mouth.
+
+"Rob," said the trader, "can you help me to-day?"
+
+"Certainly, Uncle."
+
+"We've got to get all the goods out of here and out of the Agency,
+and divide them into lots of equal value. Black Partridge says seven
+hundred of his people are entitled to the gifts. The Captain and I
+decided last night to put the things out behind the Fort, send the
+Indians by in single file, and let each one choose as he will. Black
+Partridge agreed to the plan. He will form the line himself, so
+there's no chance for trouble."
+
+The bateau was put into service, and Chandonnais was instructed to
+carry all the stores from the trading station to the esplanade, where
+two of the soldiers kept guard. Mackenzie and Forsyth, with the aid
+of a number of soldiers, carried out nearly all the stores from the
+Agency House, reserving only the provisions needed for the march.
+
+Mackenzie had made out lists the night before from his inventory, so
+the task was not as difficult as it first appeared. As the men brought
+out the goods, articles of a kind were grouped together, so, with the
+aid of his note-book, the lots were quickly formed.
+
+Had it not been for the heat, the task would have been finished by
+noon; but two o'clock found the tired men still at work and the long
+line of Indians waiting impatiently, kept back by the pickets on guard
+and the commands of their chief.
+
+"Why," said Mackenzie, in surprise, "the things aren't all here. Three
+blankets are missing, two hams, a side of bacon, some calico, and I
+don't know what all."
+
+"Haven't you made a mistake, Uncle?"
+
+"No, I'm sure I haven't. Somebody must have stolen them, but I don't
+know how nor when it could have happened. Go up to the Fort, Rob, and
+get all the blankets they can spare--I can even up while you're gone."
+
+The Indians were waiting with ill-concealed eagerness, and in half an
+hour more the word was given. Each went in turn to the wide stretch
+of prairie where the piles of merchandise were placed, and where
+sentinels were stationed to prevent stealing. When one started back
+with his goods, another went, and so on, until late in the afternoon.
+
+On account of the great number of Indians and the reservation of
+provisions for the march, as well as four months' depletion of the
+stores, the portion of each one was small; but there were no signs
+of discontent until the distribution was over and the last Indian
+gathered up the single pile that was left and went back to his place
+at the foot of the line.
+
+Then Black Partridge called Mackenzie and said he wished to speak to
+Captain Franklin.
+
+"The goods of the White Father have been given to his children, the
+red men," translated Mackenzie. "We have received the blankets,
+calicoes, prints, paints, broadcloths, and the tobacco that the White
+Father promised us at the second hour after noon of yesterday's sun.
+All is as it was written. But where is the powder and shot of the
+Great White Father? Where are the muskets that were in the storehouse?
+Why can we not have weapons for our hunting during the long Winter
+that is but four moons away?
+
+"The feet of the palefaces have a strange tread. They have frightened
+away the deer, the wolves, and the foxes that the Great Spirit has
+placed in the forest for his children to slay. Where is the firewater
+that strengthens the arm and the heart of the red man--the firewater
+which is the best gift of the Great White Father? Much of it was in
+the storehouse--we have seen it with our own eyes, but now it is gone."
+
+"Say to him," said the Captain, "that when the strange tread of the
+palefaces has died away on the trail, the forest will once more fill
+with the wolves and the deer and the foxes that the Great Spirit has
+given for his children to kill. In the meantime, we leave our cattle
+for our brothers, the Pottawattomies, beside whom we have so long
+dwelt in peace. The grass is green upon the plains and there is water
+for all. When the long Winter night comes upon them, the hay that we
+have stacked in the fields will sustain the cattle until the Great
+Spirit once more sends the sun. There are roots in our storehouses
+with which they may do as they please, and they will not miss the deer
+and the wolves and the foxes that the palefaces have frightened away.
+
+"The firewater which our brothers think they have seen in our
+storehouses was not firewater, but only empty casks. The red man is
+brave, and it has been written by the Great White Father that he needs
+no firewater to strengthen his arm and his heart. It is for women and
+for children and for men who are not strong, as the medicine man of
+the Pottawattomies has told them many times. It would be displeasing
+to the Great White Father should we take away the firewater from the
+palefaces who need it, for the sake of the red men who need it not.
+
+"We have given to our brothers freely all that we have to give. It is
+a sorrow in our hearts that there is not more, but our storehouses are
+empty, as they must see, and other gifts are promised at the place of
+our assembly.
+
+"When other moons have waxed and waned, and when the Great White
+Father has made known unto us his commands, we shall return once more
+to the river and the plains to dwell by the Great Blue Water with our
+brothers, the Pottawattomies, whose kindness and whose wise counsels
+are forever written in our hearts."
+
+"They say it is well," said Mackenzie, when the long speech and its
+brief answer had been translated; "and that they will pray unceasingly
+to the Great Spirit that the moons may be few ere the friends of the
+red men return."
+
+Forsyth and Mackenzie went home thoroughly exhausted. Night brought no
+relief from the intense heat, and the guards paced listlessly to and
+fro. Under cover of the darkness a small company of soldiers, under
+Ronald's orders, broke up the muskets and flint-locks, wet down the
+powder, put the shot into the well in the sally-port, and knocked in
+the heads of the barrels containing liquor.
+
+Careful as they were, noise was inevitable. Barrel after barrel was
+rolled to the river bank and its contents poured into the stream. A
+cask of alcohol shared the same fate, and the peculiar, pungent odour
+filled the air.
+
+"It's too late, sir," said a soldier, when he came in, rolling the
+last empty barrel before him.
+
+"What do you mean?" demanded Ronald.
+
+"The Indians, sir. Three of them are lying in the grass downstream,
+drinking the river water for the sake of the grog."
+
+"Where are the rest?"
+
+"In the woods, sir, dancing, same as last night. The northern pickets
+told me, sir."
+
+A long, low whistle came from the Ensign's lips. "If I might be so
+bold, sir," continued the man, in a low tone, "some of the boys have
+thought as how you weren't falling in with this order of the Cap'n's.
+Orders is orders--we know that--but the boys are with you, to a man.
+We'll do whatever you say, sir."
+
+In spite of the threat which the words veiled, Ronald was deeply
+touched by the devotion of the barracks. He laid his hand on the man's
+shoulders before speaking.
+
+"To be with me is to be with the Captain," he said. "It is one and the
+same. Trying times must come to all of us, and for a soldier there
+can be no nobler end than to die fighting for his country. Captain
+Franklin will ask no one of us to go where he would not go himself.
+Tell the boys that, and that to stand by the Captain is to stand by
+me."
+
+"All right, sir. And the barrels isn't all emptied. There's a cask
+over in the barracks. The boys thought it might hearten 'em up a bit,
+and they said, sir, that you wouldn't care."
+
+"You are welcome to it," answered Ronald, absently, "but make a good
+use of it. We'll need a steady hand, each and every man of us, when we
+start out on the march."
+
+The night sentinels came on and the soldier went on to the barracks,
+where his comrades were making merry with the wine. "I wonder," said
+Ronald to himself, "what would have happened if he had said that
+to--to another?"
+
+Even in his thought he did not name the Lieutenant, but, as he passed
+the house, he saw Katherine moving back and forth before the open
+window. "Poor girl," he said aloud. "Poor girl!"
+
+Katherine had had a hard day, even though her husband had slept
+without a break since Forsyth helped her get him into bed. At first
+she thought he had been drinking, though she knew he was not in
+the habit of it. Mrs. Franklin had been over and had been told
+indifferently that the Lieutenant was tired out and was resting.
+
+It was late when he awoke, rubbed his eyes, and sat up in bed.
+Katherine went to him and put her cool hand upon his hot face. "Are
+you better, dear?" she asked.
+
+"Yes," he sighed; "I'm all right. It's hot, isn't it?"
+
+She sat down on the bed beside him and talked to him soothingly, as
+if he were a tired child. She told him everything that had occurred
+during the day, and said she was glad he could rest. She got him a
+glass of water, then bathed his flushed face with a soft cloth and
+stroked his hands gently with her cool fingers.
+
+For a long time he watched her as she ministered to him with unfailing
+gentleness. Her straight shoulders were bent a little and there were
+lines upon her face; but the ashen gold of her hair and the deep blue
+of her eyes were the same as when he first loved her--so long ago. He
+remembered the mad joy that possessed him when his lips first touched
+hers, and the crushing sorrow of their bereavement, which should have
+drawn them closer together, but instead had driven them apart. He knew
+that another man loved her and that she knew it also, yet she had been
+loyal.
+
+As she went out, he wondered whether another woman in her place would
+have been true to him. With a swift searching of self he tried to
+remember some tender word that he had said to her, but it was all
+blotted out, as if darkness had come between them. For the first time
+he looked at their life together from her point of view, and shuddered
+as he saw how she might think of him. Her silence and her patience
+were evident to him, as they had not been before. Many a time he had
+seen the blue eyes fill and the sweet mouth tremble at some careless
+word of his, and often, too, he had seen her shut her teeth together
+hard when some shaft was meant to sting.
+
+Two days were left--no, only one--for it was night now. One day in
+which to atone for the countless hurts of the past four years. The
+dominant self melted into unwonted tenderness as she came back into
+the room.
+
+"I was gone too long," she said quickly; "but I didn't mean to be."
+
+"Katherine!" he said in a new voice.
+
+"Yes, dear; what is it?" She sat down beside him once more and looked
+anxiously into his face, fearing that he was ill.
+
+"What is it, dear?" she asked again.
+
+"Nothing," he said huskily; "only that I love you and I want you to
+forgive me."
+
+"Ralph! Ralph!" she cried, sinking into his arms, "there's nothing to
+forgive; but I've prayed so long that I might hear you say it!"
+
+"Will you?" he pleaded, with his face hidden against her breast.
+
+"Yes," she cried, "a thousand times, yes! I've wanted you to love me
+as I've never wanted anything else in the world!"
+
+"I love you with all my soul," he said simply. "I----" A catch in his
+throat put an end to speech, for her love-lit face, wet with tears,
+was very near to his. His arms closed hungrily around her, and the
+lips that but a moment before were quivering with sobs, were crushed
+in eternal pardon against his own.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+THE LAST DAY IN THE FORT
+
+
+"Sir," said a soldier; "some one is coming!"
+
+"From which way?" asked the Captain.
+
+"South, sir."
+
+Captain Franklin climbed the ladder that led into the blockhouse at
+the south-east corner of the stockade, wondering whether it was friend
+or foe who approached. Dim upon the far horizon was a single rider,
+who moved slowly, as if his horse were tired. Behind him marched a
+small company of Indians.
+
+"What do you make of it, sir?" asked the guard in the blockhouse,
+anxiously.
+
+"He bears no flag," answered the Captain. "Train the guns and wait for
+a signal."
+
+Only the north gate of the Fort was open, and, as always of late, it
+was well protected; but, none the less, the Captain's heart was heavy.
+He strained his eyes toward the rider, far across the sun-baked
+prairie, and the minutes seemed like hours. The man sat his horse like
+an Indian, yet, someway, even at the distance, conveyed the impression
+that he was a white man.
+
+The news quickly spread, and the soldiers who were off duty mounted
+the stockade. As the company came nearer, the rider waved his hat, but
+the men at the Fort made no answer until one soldier, with keener eyes
+than the rest, shouted joyously, "Captain Wells!"
+
+"Captain Wells! Captain Wells!" The parade-ground rang with the cry.
+The two fifes and two drums struck up a military air, and a small
+escort marched to meet him.
+
+"Captain Wells!" The shout brought every soldier to the front, and
+even the women, smiling, waited for him at the gate. The escort turned
+back, and, swiftly upon the sound of the music, the cannon boomed a
+welcome.
+
+When the travel-stained rider dismounted, Captain Franklin wrung his
+hand as if he never would let it go. "God bless you," he cried; "what
+brought you here?"
+
+"Orders from General Hull," answered Captain Wells. "I have brought
+thirty faithful Miami Indians to escort your command to Fort Wayne."
+
+Beatrice, Forsyth, the Mackenzies and their children, as well as
+every one at the Fort, gave Captain Wells a warm reception. "Come to
+our house," said Katherine.
+
+"He's not going to your house," answered Mrs. Franklin. "He's my
+uncle, and he's coming to mine."
+
+It was some time before the Indian escort was taken care of, and Wells
+and Franklin had an opportunity to discuss the situation.
+
+"How are things with you?" asked Wells, anxiously.
+
+"All right, I guess; I've been doing the best I can. On the ninth I
+received orders from General Hull to evacuate the post and proceed
+with my command to Detroit by land, leaving it to my discretion to
+dispose of the public property as I thought proper. The Indians
+got the information as early as I did, and they have come from all
+quarters to receive the gifts. I asked Black Partridge to summon his
+people, but I don't believe all the Indians here are Pottawattomies.
+I have given them all the goods in the factory store, and all the
+provisions which we cannot take with us. I have destroyed the surplus
+arms and ammunition, fearing they would make a bad use of it, and I
+have also destroyed all the liquor."
+
+"Do the Indians seem friendly?"
+
+"Yes--of course they wanted the ammunition and liquor, but I explained
+that. There has been some friction here at the post. The Mackenzies,
+of course, are opposed to going, and the feeling has affected others.
+There does not seem to be much danger, though, unless the British come
+down from Fort Mackinac, which seems hardly possible. The Indians have
+promised to see us safely to Fort Wayne, but then--what's the promise
+of an Indian?"
+
+"Not much, I admit," answered Wells; "but I'm here to stand by you. If
+worst comes to worst, here's one more man to fight. I'm with you to
+the last."
+
+"It is a great relief to me," said Franklin, after an eloquent
+silence, "for I have felt myself alone--one man against the world."
+
+"I'd do all I could for your wife's sake, if for no other reason. Call
+an Indian council this afternoon and let me talk to them."
+
+Franklin's face brightened. "The very thing!" he cried. "I'll give the
+order at once." Then he grasped the other's hand and said again, "God
+bless you!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the appointed hour in the afternoon the entire company of Indians
+assembled upon the esplanade. After ceremonious greetings were
+exchanged with the chiefs, Captain Wells turned to the others.
+
+"A good day to you, my brothers," he said. "The time has seemed long
+indeed since we parted. I see among you many new faces from the
+far country, and I am rejoiced to learn that you have promised to
+accompany the White Father and his people to the assembling place. Had
+I known of this I should not have come, but should have trusted wholly
+to my brothers.
+
+"However, it is a happiness to me to see my friends once more.
+Although I am a white man, I have been brought up like one of you. I
+have learned the secrets of the forest and the trail and I have fought
+side by side with the red men. For many of you I have sad news. The
+Great Chief, Little Turtle, whose daughter I have taken in marriage,
+went to the happy hunting grounds on the fourteenth day of the last
+moon.
+
+"Were he alive he would send his greetings to his brothers who are
+here assembled. Thirty of his people have come with me to lead the
+Americans safely upon the trail. For three or more days must we
+journey, since the feet of the palefaces are slow, but we have no
+fears. From the dangers of the day and the night, from wild beasts,
+from every creature that stalks abroad with intent to slay; from
+the unlearned tribes who are unfriendly to the whites, and from the
+warriors of another White Chief, who may be known by their red coats,
+we will protect our friends. It has been written by the Great White
+Father that after we have led his people safely to the assembling
+place, many gifts shall be distributed among us there. My brothers, I
+bid you farewell."
+
+Silently the Indians went back to the woods. No answer was made to
+the speech except that it was good, and that all should be as it was
+written.
+
+"Franklin," said Wells, when they were again alone, "everything seems
+to be all right, and yet I scent trouble. Do you suppose they have
+received orders from the British to cut us off?"
+
+"I wish I knew," answered Franklin, sadly; "and yet what could I do?"
+
+"We must get out of here as quickly as possible. How much ammunition
+have you reserved?"
+
+"Twenty-five rounds per man."
+
+"How about provisions?"
+
+"We have enough for a long march. We'll take all we can, and give the
+remainder to the Indians on reaching Fort Wayne."
+
+"How many horses have you?"
+
+"Enough for the officers and the women, as well as for the waggons.
+The children can go in the waggons."
+
+"Things are better than I feared," said Wells. "I hope we'll get
+through all right--at any rate we'll do our best."
+
+Orders were given for an early start on the following morning, and the
+baggage of each person was limited to the absolute essentials. The
+day passed in active preparations for departure, and the appearance
+of Captain Wells, with the guard, had lightened the situation
+considerably.
+
+All of the pine knots that were left were fastened between the bars of
+the stockade, as the soldiers had determined to illuminate in honour
+of Captain Wells. The day had promised to be a little cooler, but the
+lake breeze of early morning soon retreated before the onslaught of
+the south-west wind.
+
+The women had packed up their toilet articles and a few little
+trinkets valued for their associations, and the kit of every soldier
+was in readiness. Forsyth made a belt for his sword, pistol, and
+cartridges, which looked oddly enough when it was fastened over his
+suit of rusty black. Beatrice had recovered her spirit enough to laugh
+heartily at the picture he presented.
+
+All save Ronald were more cheerful than they had been for many a day.
+He walked about as if he were in a trance, and when he was spoken to
+he did not seem to hear. More than once he was seen staring into space
+with a glassy look in his eyes.
+
+In the evening the Mackenzies became sad at the prospect of leaving
+their old home, as they sat before the desolate hearth, side by side,
+for the last time. For a little while Beatrice sat there with them.
+The children were asleep, Robert was finishing his packing, and she
+felt herself an intruder, so at last she stole away and went over to
+the Fort, where the pine knots blazed with a lurid light and cast
+shadows afar.
+
+Lieutenant Howard and Katherine were on the piazza at Franklin's,
+where Captain Wells sat with his hosts. Under cover of the darkness
+the Lieutenant was holding Katherine's hand, and Captain Franklin sat
+with his arm over the back of his wife's chair.
+
+"See what it is to be a spinster," laughed Beatrice, as she
+approached. "Captain Wells, would you mind holding my hand?"
+
+Wells stammered an excuse, for he was unused to the ways of women,
+and Beatrice made him the subject of her playful scorn. "Am I so
+unattractive, then?" she queried, looking sideways at the discomfited
+Captain from under her drooping lids.
+
+"N--no," answered Wells, miserably; "but--" He floundered into
+helpless silence, not at all relieved by the laughter of the others.
+
+That evening, if at no other time, Beatrice was beautiful. Her high
+colour had faded to a languorous paleness, and the harshness of her
+manner was gone. Her trailing white gown was turned in a little at her
+round, white throat, and her long, shining hair hung far below her
+waist in a heavy braid.
+
+"Ronald," called the Lieutenant, "come here!"
+
+The Ensign came slowly across the parade-ground. His shoulders drooped
+and his face was very pale. "What is it?" he asked.
+
+The tone was unlike Ronald. "Nothing," replied the Lieutenant, "except
+that Beatrice wants somebody to hold her hand and Captain Wells won't.
+He's too bashful, and the rest of us are occupied."
+
+"It's too hot," sighed the Ensign. He sat down on the piazza, near
+Beatrice, and fanned himself with his cap; but he took no part in the
+conversation, and did not even answer Katherine's "good-night" when
+her husband took her home.
+
+"I'm going in, too," said Mrs. Franklin, "if nobody minds. I'm very
+tired."
+
+Franklin and Wells talked listlessly, feeling the restraint of the
+others' presence. "Come out for a little while," said Ronald to
+Beatrice. "I don't think they want us here."
+
+The full moon was low in the heavens and the lake was calm. They went
+out of the Fort and down near the water, but still he did not speak.
+Then Beatrice put her hand on his arm. "What's wrong with you?" she
+asked softly; "can't you tell me?"
+
+His breath came quickly at her touch and he swallowed hard. "Heart's
+Desire," he said huskily, "I die to-morrow--will you tell me you love
+me to-night?"
+
+"Die!" cried Beatrice. "What do you mean?"
+
+"Sweet, the death watch ticked last night--Norton and I heard it and
+most of the men. To-night, while I have eyes to see and ears to hear,
+let me dream that you are kind. Since that first day, when I saw you
+across the river, I have hungered for you; yes, I have thirsted for
+you like a man in the desert who sees the blessed, life-giving water
+just beyond his reach. My arms have ached to hold you close--my rose,
+my star, my very soul!"
+
+"All my life has been lived only for this; to find you and to tell
+you what I tell you now. I have no gift of words--I'm only an awkward
+soldier, but with all my life I love you. Poets may find new words
+for it, but there is nothing else for a man to say. Just those three
+words, 'I love you,' to hold the universe and to measure it, for there
+is nothing else worth keeping in all the world!"
+
+Shaken by his passion, he stood before her with the moonlight full
+upon his face. His shoulders were straight once more, but his eyes
+were misty and he breathed hard, like a man in pain.
+
+The girl was sobbing, and very gently he put his arm around her.
+"Heart's Desire," he said again, "I die to-morrow--will you tell me
+you love me to-night?"
+
+"I do--I do," she cried, as he drew her closer; "but, oh, you must
+not talk so! You cannot die to-morrow--you are young--you are strong!
+Don't! Don't! I must not let you misunderstand! It is not what you
+think!"
+
+His cry of joy changed to an inarticulate murmur, and his arms
+stiffened about her as she stood with her face against his breast. "I
+must be a stone," she sobbed, "or I would care. Don't think I haven't
+known, for I have; but I've been afraid--I've always been afraid to
+care, and now I've grown so hard I can't! Pity me--be kind to me--I
+cannot care, and on my soul I wish I could!"
+
+His arms fell to his sides and she was free. Half fearfully she lifted
+her lovely, tear-stained face to his. "I wish I could!" she sobbed.
+"Believe me, upon my soul, I wish I could!"
+
+"Heart's Desire, I would have no words of mine bring tears to your
+dear eyes. To see you so is worse than death to me. I was a fool and
+a brute to speak, but the words would come. I have known you were not
+for me. I have walked in the mire, and you are a star; but sometimes
+men dream that even a star may descend to lift one up. Forget it,
+Sweet, forget that I was mad, and if you can, forgive me!"
+
+"I never shall forget," she answered, with her lips still quivering,
+"for it is the sweetest thing God has yet given to me. But all my life
+I have been afraid to trust, afraid to yield, and now, when I would,
+I cannot. It is my punishment, and even though I hurt you, I must be
+honest with you."
+
+"Sweetheart, the hurt is naught--it is a kindness since it comes from
+you. I ask your pardon, and remember I shall never speak of it again.
+Others, perhaps, would say I have had enough--my youth, my strength,
+and all that makes life fair. I have served my country well and
+to-morrow I die fighting, as soldiers pray that they may. Women have
+loved me, and yet-- My darling, I die to-morrow--ah, kiss me just once
+for to-night!"
+
+She was very near him, but she turned her face away. "No," she
+whispered, "I can't. I will give you nothing unless I give you all."
+
+"So let it be," he sighed. He put his arm around her again, and she
+tried to move away, but he held her fast. "Don't be afraid of me,"
+he said. "Dear Heart, can't you trust me? You might lay your sweet
+lips full on mine, and yet mine would not answer unless you said
+they might. I just want to tell you this. I can see no farther than
+to-morrow, and after that--I do not know. But I'm not afraid of death,
+nor hell, nor of God Himself, because I take with me these two things.
+I think all else will be forgiven, Sweet, because I have served my
+country well and I have been man enough to love you."
+
+"Oh," cried Beatrice, with the tears raining down her face, "I can
+bear it no longer--let me go home!"
+
+She went across the river alone, and the sound of her sobbing came
+through the darkness and cut into his heart like a knife. The dull
+stupor of the day gave place to keenest pain. He was alive to the
+degree that no man knows till he is wounded past all healing. Every
+sense was eager for its final hurt. "How shall I live!" he muttered.
+"How shall I live until to-morrow, when I die!"
+
+He went back into the Fort with his head bowed upon his breast. As in
+a dream he saw Wells and Franklin sitting by a table in the Captain's
+house. The single tallow dip, with its tiny star of flame, was almost
+too much light for his eyes to bear. The pine knots in the crevices of
+the stockade filled the place with a lurid glare that seemed like the
+blaze of a noonday sun.
+
+He sat alone in a dark corner, muttering, "How shall I live! How shall
+I live until to-morrow, when I die!" Lieutenant Howard passed him, but
+did not see him. Then Doctor Norton called out, "Do you know where
+Ronald is?"--but the Lieutenant did not know.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There was a stir at the gate and Mackenzie came in, accompanied by
+Black Partridge. They went straight to the Captain's quarters and
+were admitted at once. Mackenzie's face was grey and haggard, but
+the Indian was as stolid as ever, save that his eyes glittered
+cruelly. Wells and Franklin felt an instant alarm. "What is it?" asked
+Franklin, hurriedly.
+
+Black Partridge took off the silver medal which Captain Wells had
+given to him and laid it on the table. The light of the tallow dip
+shone strangely on the metal, and picked out the figures upon it in
+significant relief. Then he spoke rapidly, and Mackenzie translated.
+
+"Father, I come to deliver up to you the medal I wear. It was given
+me by the Americans, and I have long worn it in token of our mutual
+friendship. But our young men are resolved to bury their hands in the
+blood of the whites. I cannot restrain them, and I will not wear a
+token of peace while I am compelled to act as an enemy."
+
+"Captain," cried a soldier, rushing in, "the Indians are having a war
+dance in the hollow!"
+
+"Close the gates," commanded Franklin, "and call the pickets in." He
+was outwardly calm, though cold sweat stood out upon his forehead, and
+Captain Wells stood by in silent distress. Before any one had time to
+speak, Black Partridge was gone. He passed through the gates almost at
+the moment they rumbled into place, and fled like a deer to join his
+people.
+
+"I suppose," said the trader, "that in the face of this you will not
+march to-morrow."
+
+"Yes," cried the Captain, in a voice that rang; "we march to-morrow in
+spite of hell!"
+
+Beside himself with fear, anger, and pain, Mackenzie rushed out and
+told the first soldier he met all that had passed. In an instant there
+was the sound of hurrying feet and the Fort was aflame with rebellion.
+"Wells," said Franklin, quietly, "I wish you'd go to the barracks. You
+may be needed there."
+
+But the barracks were empty. As the guns thundered the signal for the
+pickets to return, the men gathered around Ronald. Instinctively, in
+times of trouble, they looked to him.
+
+"Go to the barracks, boys," he said, in a low tone, "and wait for me
+there. I'll do what I can."
+
+A white figure appeared at a window and the Lieutenant went in to
+speak to Katherine. Doctor Norton went straight to the Captain.
+
+Franklin's eyes were blazing and his body was tense. The martial
+spirit of the frontier had set his blood aflame. His fingers fairly
+itched for his sword, and his hands were clenched. "Captain," said the
+Doctor, calmly, "is there no other way?"
+
+"No," cried Franklin; "there is no other way! Are you a coward that
+you ask me this?"
+
+The Doctor laughed unpleasantly, and went out without another word.
+Hardly had his footsteps died away before Lieutenant Howard came in,
+white to the lips with wrath.
+
+"Is this true?" he shouted. "Do we march to-morrow, with our women and
+children, when the Indians have declared war?"
+
+"Yes," said Franklin, meeting his gaze steadily, "we do."
+
+"Captain, this is madness. The men will never go. It is certain death
+to leave the Fort. Your orders will not be obeyed, if it comes to
+that."
+
+"Lieutenant Howard, my orders will be obeyed. The man who refuses will
+be shot."
+
+"Captain, can't you listen to reason? Our force is small. We never can
+cope with those fiends that even now are having their war-dance in the
+hollow. I said it was certain death, but death in itself is nothing
+to fear. Torture waits for us--for our women and children. Captain,
+change the order--stay!"
+
+"Sir, I have my orders."
+
+The Lieutenant turned away. "Stop!" commanded the Captain. "You need
+not go to the men. I am in command of this Fort and I will have no
+mutiny. The soldier who attempts to disobey my orders will be shot
+down like a dog, be he officer or man. We march to-morrow, if I go
+alone!"
+
+The Lieutenant staggered out and almost into the Ensign's arms.
+"Ronald," he pleaded thickly, "go to the Captain. See if you cannot
+do something to save us all. Don't ask for ourselves--he is pitiless
+there--but the women and the children--" His voice broke at the words,
+but he kept on. "Ronald, for God's sake, go!"
+
+The thought of Beatrice's danger stirred the Ensign's blood to fever
+heat, and he rushed into the house like a madman. "Captain!" he cried.
+
+There was an instant of tense silence. A torrent of words was on
+Ronald's lips, but the Captain raised his hand. "I suppose," he
+said coolly, "that you are merely following the general tendency.
+Mackenzie, Norton, and the Lieutenant have all been here to suggest
+that I disobey my orders. Is that your purpose, also?"
+
+"Yes," shouted Ronald, "it is!"
+
+"By what right do you presume to offer unasked advice to your superior
+officer?"
+
+"By the right of one who has kept your men from mutiny!"
+
+The Captain cleared his throat. "Well?"
+
+"I have no plea to make for myself, Captain. I have come to ask at
+your hands the lives of the women and children who are under our
+protection--to ask you not to betray the most sacred trust that can be
+given to man. You speak of orders. As I understand it, no time was set
+for the evacuation of the Fort?"
+
+"We have delayed too long already."
+
+"Suppose the British army was at our gates--would those orders hold
+good?"
+
+"Sir, you are impertinent!"
+
+"Captain, that medal which Black Partridge returned to you to-night
+was equivalent to a declaration of war. If you are not willing to
+act upon your own responsibility, send Captain Wells and his Indians
+to General Hull to ask for reinforcements. If Captain Wells is not
+willing to go, I am. I know the provisions have been given to the
+Indians, but we have the cattle and perhaps enough else to last the
+garrison two weeks or more. With reinforcements we can hold the Fort
+against any force that may be brought against it. Captain--let me go!"
+
+"Sir, I have my orders."
+
+"Orders be damned!"
+
+"At West Point," asked the Captain, hoarsely, "were you taught to
+speak to your superior officer in that way?"
+
+"Captain, I speak to you not as my superior officer, but as man to
+man. Our force is small, some of our boys are too old to fight, and we
+have women and children to protect. I ask nothing for myself, nor for
+men like me--we are soldiers. I plead for the helpless ones under our
+care. I ask you only to wait, not to disobey. I beg you to save the
+women and children from torture--from cutting their flesh to ribbons
+while they still live--from things that one man cannot look another in
+the face and name."
+
+Franklin turned away, his muscles rigid as steel.
+
+"You have a wife, Captain--a tender, loving, helpless woman. Are you
+willing to give her to the Indians and let them do as they please
+with her? Suppose you had a child, just old enough to walk--a little
+daughter, whose flesh was so soft that you almost feared to touch
+her--a child who loved you, trusted you, and leaned upon you, knowing
+that you would risk your life to save her from the slightest hurt.
+Suppose two thousand Indians in their war-paint were pounding at the
+gates of the Fort, and the knife and the stake were waiting for their
+victims--would you stand upon the stockade and throw that child to
+those beasts?
+
+"That is what you are going to do to-morrow. You will sacrifice your
+own wife, the wife of every man at the post, and every little child,
+but it touches you only at one point. In the name of the woman who
+loves you--in the name of the children who might have called you
+father--Captain--in God's name--stay!"
+
+The Captain's face was ashen, but his voice was clear. "Sir, I am a
+soldier--I have my orders!"
+
+With a muttered curse, Ronald flung himself out of the room. He
+staggered to the parade-ground blindly, gasping with every breath.
+Then the door opened softly and a white figure, barefooted, came
+quietly into the room.
+
+"What!" cried the Captain; "you, too?"
+
+Her gown was no whiter than her face, but she came to him steadily.
+"Wallace," she said, "you are a soldier, and I am a soldier's wife. I
+could not help hearing what they said. Don't think I blame you--I know
+you will do what is right. Captain Wells and I will stand by you!"
+
+He took her into his arms, and then a hoarse murmur came to their
+ears. She started away from him in fear. "What is it?" she cried.
+
+"It's only the barracks," he answered, trying to smile. "Come, dear,
+come!"
+
+When Ronald opened the door, where the men were drinking heavily,
+the confusion was heard to the farthest limits of the Fort. "Boys,"
+he cried, "it's all over--there's nothing any one of us can do!"
+Lieutenant Howard, the Doctor, and Captain Wells were standing
+together near the door, but he did not seem to see them.
+
+Straight to the middle of the room he went, and a soldier filled his
+glass. "Make merry while you can, my brave boys," he shouted, "for
+this is the last of life for us! To-night we are men--to-morrow we
+are food for the vultures! To-night we are soldiers--to-morrow we
+are clay! To-night we may sleep--to-morrow we wake to the knife, the
+scourge, and the flames! To-night, for the last time, we stand side by
+side--to-morrow we fight a merciless foe of ten times our strength!
+
+"If you have neither wife nor child, thank God that you stand
+alone. If you have, load your muskets and strike them down at
+sunrise to-morrow,--yes, stain your hands with their innocent blood
+that you may save them from something worse. Twelve hours of life
+remains--waste none of it in sleep! Fill your glasses to the brim
+and drink till the night is past. Pray that your senses may leave
+you--that your reason may be replaced by the madness of beasts! Pray
+for strong arms to-morrow--pray for a soldier's fate! Drink while the
+stakes are being put in place for us--drink to your ashes and the fall
+of Fort Dearborn--drink, boys--to Death!"
+
+The room had been deadly still while he was speaking, but now the cry
+rang to the rafters,--"To Death!"
+
+"Again," shouted Ronald, "fill your glasses once more! To the
+strong arm and the fearless heart--to the torture that waits for us
+to-morrow--to the red spawn of hell that is grinning at our gates--a
+toast to Death!"
+
+The door opened and Captain Franklin came into the room. Every man
+turned accusing eyes upon him save one. "To the Captain!" cried Wells,
+lifting his glass.
+
+He drank alone, since, for the moment, no one else moved. Then, with
+one accord, the wine was thrown to the floor and the sharp crash of
+glass followed it, as the deep-throated bell sounded taps--for the
+last time.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+THE RED DEATH
+
+
+"Attention! Forward--march!"
+
+To the music of the Dead March the column swung into line and turned
+southward from the Fort. At the head rode Captain Wells, who, after an
+Indian custom, had blackened his face with wet gunpowder in token of
+approaching death. Half of the Miami escort followed him, then came
+the regulars, accompanied by the women, all of whom were mounted; then
+the three waggons, and the remainder of the Miami escort.
+
+Mrs. Mackenzie and her four children were in the bateau, with their
+clothing and a limited amount of supplies. Chandonnais and a friendly
+Indian were at the oars. Black Partridge had appeared at the trading
+station before daylight, to ask Mackenzie and his family to go in the
+boat. The trader refused, saying he would march with the soldiers;
+and Robert also declined the opportunity. Both Mackenzie and his
+wife insisted that Beatrice should take the safer course, but it was
+useless.
+
+"What?" she asked, "and leave Queen? Not I! We're going with the
+soldiers!"
+
+The other children at the post, eleven or twelve in all, were in
+the first waggon, which was driven by a soldier. The second waggon
+contained the supplies for the march; and in the third, where the
+ammunition was stored, sat Mad Margaret. She had come very early in
+the morning, with a small bundle, ready for departure.
+
+The day was intensely hot, and the lake was like a sea of glass. The
+line of march was along the water's edge, where sand hills intervened
+between the beach and the prairie. The Pottawattomies, more than six
+hundred strong, kept behind the sand hills and were seldom visible.
+
+As the little company proceeded toward Fort Wayne, heavy hearts grew
+lighter and anxious faces became peaceful. No Indians were in sight
+save the Miami escort at front and rear. The music of the Dead March
+ceased, and then upon the silence came Mad Margaret's voice, as she
+croaked dismally, "I see blood--much blood, then fire, and afterward
+peace."
+
+Beatrice was riding with Robert, a little way behind Ronald. That
+morning she had seen Mad Margaret for the first time. "Listen," she
+said, as she leaned forward to stroke Queen's glossy neck, "doesn't
+that sound like a raven in the woods? She's a bird of evil omen, but,
+just as we were starting, she told me I should find my heart's desire
+to-day."
+
+"I trust you may," said Robert, gravely. Then he called to Ronald, but
+the Ensign did not hear. He had begun the day in the dull stupor of
+yesterday.
+
+At the mouth of the river a Pottawattomie chief crept up behind the
+column and signalled to the Indian in the bateau to stop rowing. He
+did so, and the company went on a little way without missing the boat.
+
+They were about a mile and a half from the Fort when Captain Wells
+came riding back furiously. "They are about to attack us," he shouted.
+"Turn and charge!"
+
+Captain Franklin and his company dashed up a sand hill,--a veteran of
+seventy falling by the way,--and were greeted with a volley at the
+top. In an instant the massacre was on. Under cover of the sand hills
+a part of the Pottawattomies had reached the front, and now surrounded
+them at every point. The Miamis fled to a safe place when the first
+shot was fired.
+
+Captain Franklin endeavoured to mass the waggons upon the shore, but
+it was useless, for dire confusion was in the ranks and each man
+fought for himself as best he could. Behind them lay the lake--at the
+right and left and in front of them were six hundred savages, armed
+with arrows, muskets, and tomahawks. The plain rang with the war-whoop
+and the cries of the victims, while shrill and clear above the clamour
+came Mad Margaret's voice, shrieking, "The time of the blood is at
+hand!"
+
+At the first alarm, Chandonnais leaped out of the bateau, swam ashore
+and ran to join the troops, leaving Mrs. Mackenzie and the children
+alone with the Indian. He made his way through the left line of the
+savages with incredible quickness, fighting as he went with the
+ferocity of a beast. A painted warrior raised his weapon to strike,
+but the half-breed, cursing, snatched it away from him and laid him
+low with his own tomahawk.
+
+Now and then Captain Franklin's voice could be heard giving orders.
+His plan was to break through the line, turn, and close in, but the
+attempt failed and was fraught with heavy loss.
+
+Beatrice was a little way off, partially sheltered by a sand hill. Her
+eyes were wide and staring, and the blood was frozen in her veins.
+Even in dreams she had not thought it could be like this. Queen
+snorted and pawed the ground impatiently, but the hands on the bridle
+were numb, and there was no chance to escape.
+
+The exultant cries of the Indians beat upon her ears with physical
+pain. The early goldenrod, in full flower on the prairie, was broken
+down as by some terrible storm. She saw Mackenzie repeatedly fire his
+musket, and always effectively, in spite of warning shouts from the
+enemy. Lieutenant Howard was wounded in the shoulder, but was still
+fighting gallantly; and Ronald, in the front rank, seemed possessed of
+the strength of a madman.
+
+Robert was nowhere to be seen, and even then Beatrice's lip curled
+contemptuously. Mrs. Franklin, separated from her husband, turned
+blindly back toward the Fort, but two warriors overtook her, pulled
+her down from her horse, and carried her away screaming.
+
+Katherine dashed by, toward the thickest of the fight, for her horse
+was maddened and utterly beyond control. Doctor Norton was beside her,
+his face streaming with blood, and he was making desperate efforts to
+reach the dangling bridle rein.
+
+Beatrice laughed hysterically. After they were out of sight, a
+deadened auditory nerve resumed its functions, and she heard
+Katherine's voice saying, hoarsely, "You were right--I am glad I have
+lost my boy!" The power of thought came back to the girl by slow
+degrees. She must get away--but how?
+
+Far out on the lake and a little to the rear was the bateau, where
+Mrs. Mackenzie sat as if she were made of stone, with the children
+huddled about her. Beatrice dismounted, and climbed, gasping, part way
+up the sand hill that sheltered her, then looked to see if the trail
+were clear, but the battle seemed to be thickest there. Isolated upon
+a low mound, far across the plain, she saw Captain Franklin and half
+a dozen men. Fifty or more Indians, with yells of fiendish glee, were
+running toward them, and Beatrice slipped back, down the incline of
+burning sand, afraid to look a moment longer.
+
+She thought if she could attract Mrs. Mackenzie's attention, the boat
+might be brought near enough to shore for Queen to reach it safely,
+but the flutter of her handkerchief was not even seen, much less
+understood. If she could not get to the boat there was only one other
+way--to watch for an opening and ride like mad to Fort Wayne, trusting
+to Queen's speed for her safety. It seemed hardly possible that she
+could hide among the sand hills till dark, or even until there was an
+opportunity to try the last desperate plan.
+
+Then out upon that plain of death danced Mad Margaret, with her white
+hair hanging loosely about her. "I see blood!" she shrieked. "The time
+of the blood is at hand!"
+
+A tomahawk gleamed in the air, but fell harmlessly beyond her, and
+there was a murmur of horror in the ranks of the Indians. She went
+straight toward them, and they fell back, afraid of her and of her
+alone. Doctor Norton saw what she intended to do, and, with his hand
+on the bridle of Katherine's horse, kept behind her and out of range.
+
+Step by step, with demoniac laughter and unintelligible cries, with
+every muscle of her frail body tense, Mad Margaret forced the Indians
+back. One, bolder than the rest, and drunk with blood, stole up behind
+her with his tomahawk upraised.
+
+"_Mère! Ma mère!_" cried Chandonnais, darting out of the ranks. In
+a flash he had wrenched the weapon away from the Indian and started
+toward Margaret, hacking at those who opposed him.
+
+A savage cry rang at his right, and Margaret turned. She saw the
+danger and retreated, then ran like a deer between the Indian and
+Chandonnais. "_Mère! Ma mère!_" the half-breed cried again, as the
+tomahawk intended for him sank into her darkened brain. With the tears
+raining down his face he caught her to him, and went backward, step by
+step, toward the place where the others were fighting, with the dead
+body of his mother in his arms.
+
+Instinctively the soldiers drew near him, but kept to the rear. The
+Indians were advancing, but no one of them was bold enough to touch
+the man who held Mad Margaret. A moment more and the gap would have
+been closed, with that frail body forming a powerful defence; but
+a warrior, maddened by the loss of his friends, crept in behind
+Chandonnais and struck him down.
+
+Then the battle took a new lease of life. In the midst of the smoke
+Norton saw Katherine's strained, white face close to his. They were
+surrounded, and a company of Indians, brandishing their war clubs,
+were racing toward them. Every avenue of escape was cut off. "Death
+comes," said the Doctor, quietly, wiping the blood from his face; "and
+here and now I dare to tell you what you must have known, that I----"
+
+He was wrenched from his horse and his scalp lifted off at a single
+blow. Katherine turned, and in an instant she was in the grasp of an
+Indian. With desperate strength she tried to get possession of the
+scalping knife that hung about his neck, but in the moment that she
+had her hand upon it she was seized by another Indian, who lifted her
+bodily and carried her to the lake.
+
+Mrs. Mackenzie saw the painted savage with the body of her daughter in
+his arms, then merciful unconsciousness blinded her.
+
+Captain Wells was in the midst of the battle, fighting with musket
+and sword. In and out of the Indian ranks he sped, wreaking vengeance
+upon his foes. His hand was steady and his aim was sure. Warrior after
+warrior fell before him, and as yet he was but slightly wounded.
+
+A young Indian entered the covered waggon where the frightened
+children were huddled together, and emerged at the other end with his
+tomahawk dripping and a look of fiendish satisfaction upon his painted
+face.
+
+"Is that their game?" cried Wells; "butchering women and children!
+Then I will kill, too!"
+
+He wheeled and turned toward the Indian settlement, mad with the
+desire for revenge. "Tell my wife," he shouted to some one, "that I
+died fighting like a soldier, and that I killed at least seven red
+devils!" Then his horse was shot under him, and in the fall he was
+pinioned so that he could not escape.
+
+With wild laughter the savages gathered around him, hacking at him
+with their knives. "Don't kill him," muttered one of them, in the
+Indian tongue, "but keep him for the festival to-morrow!"
+
+"Squaws!" cried Wells. "Women! Papooses! Eight against one, and you
+dare not strike to kill! Squaws!" The taunt went home, as he intended
+it should, and a tomahawk put a merciful end to his suffering. Then
+with one accord the savages fell upon the body, cut out the brave
+heart and ate it, hoping to gain his fearless strength.
+
+One of them passed very near Beatrice's hiding-place with a bloody
+scalp in his hand. By the black ribbon that dangled from the queue,
+she knew that Captain Wells had met the fate he feared. For a moment
+horror paralysed her, and the metallic taste of blood was in her mouth.
+
+Queen was standing as quietly as if she were in her stall, but her
+nostrils quivered with excitement. "In a moment, Beauty," whispered
+the girl, "we'll make a run for life." There was a muffled step, then
+around the base of the hill came Ronald, followed by his faithful dog.
+
+The blood was streaming from a deep wound in his breast, and he was
+plainly done for; but he smiled when he saw her, then reeled, and
+would have fallen had it not been for the horse. Beatrice took hold of
+him, and, gasping, he sank to the ground at her feet.
+
+The sand formed a hollow where they were, with the hill on one side
+of it and the lake on the other. Drifted ridges of sand still further
+screened them, and it was not likely that they would be seen.
+
+"Poor old Major," said Ronald, with long pauses between the words;
+"poor--old--boy!" With trembling hands he loaded his pistol, and,
+before she knew what he was going to do, he had shot the dog.
+
+"They'd--hurt him," he explained, with a feeble wave of his hand.
+"They're all--over there. The Captain has surrendered, but--Wells
+and Norton are dead--and most of the boys. The squaws are on the
+field with--with the others. They're opening up the wounds with--with
+pitchforks!"
+
+His face whitened. Beatrice put her arm around his shoulders, and
+he leaned heavily upon her breast. "It's worth while--to die--" he
+gasped--"for this!"
+
+"You're not going to die, dear. We'll stay here till night, then we'll
+go on to Fort Wayne. You can ride Queen."
+
+Hurt as he was, Ronald smiled. "I--I wouldn't ride that--that gun
+carriage," he said with something of his old spirit. "Heart's Desire,
+you must not stay. At the first chance, go--ride like mad to--to Fort
+Wayne--if you are pursued or surrounded--you know what to do!"
+
+His dimming eyes wandered to the bag of cartridges and the pistol at
+her belt.
+
+"Yes," she said steadily, "I know what to do."
+
+"Go!" he whispered.
+
+Beatrice left him for a moment and went up the sand hill to
+reconnoitre. Peeping over the top of it, she saw that the Indians were
+all north of them, except a few, and that the trail was clear.
+
+"I can't," she lied, when she came back. "There's hundreds of them in
+the south."
+
+The cry of a wounded horse came from the field, and Queen started in
+terror. Beatrice quieted her, then knelt down beside Ronald. A look of
+ineffable happiness came into his eyes and his lips moved, but she put
+a warning hand upon his face. "Hush--you mustn't talk--lie still!"
+
+"It seems like heaven," he breathed, "to have you--near me--and to
+have you--kind!"
+
+The hot tears came to her eyes. "Don't!" she pleaded. "Dear boy, can't
+you forgive me?"
+
+"Sweet, there is naught to forgive. I would live it all--to have you
+near me--to have you kind."
+
+"Oh," she sobbed, "you break my heart!"
+
+His hand closed limply over hers. "You must not stay--go--go--to Fort
+Wayne!"
+
+"I shall never leave you," said Beatrice, simply.
+
+"Dear Heart, you must--there is no other way. When you are
+gone--I--I----"
+
+He looked her full in the face for a moment before she understood.
+"No!" she cried in anguish; "you shall not!"
+
+"It is best," he said. "I am hurt--even past your healing--it is
+better than--the torture--and--and--if you are followed, you must do
+the same. Promise me you will!"
+
+"I promise," she answered, but she hardly knew her own voice.
+
+"They were--in the north," he went on. "To the southward--all is
+clear. If it were not for me--you would go."
+
+He fumbled around in the sand until he found the pistol and loaded it
+once more, though his hands shook. Beatrice tried to take it from
+him, but very gently he put her away.
+
+"It is time," he breathed. "Taps have sounded for me. I said I would
+not--not speak of it again--but you--you will grant me pardon--I love
+you--so much that death will make--no difference--I love you--with
+all--my soul!" With a trembling hand he put the muzzle against his
+right temple, and looked up into her face with the ghost of a smile.
+His eyes asked mutely for something more.
+
+Then Beatrice bent over him, and the kiss for which he had vainly
+pleaded was laid full upon his lips. He caught his breath quickly,
+with a gasp of pain. "God is very good to me," he said unsteadily.
+"It was in my dream--but I did not dare--and now--Heart's
+Desire--good-bye!"
+
+He closed his eyes. There was a sharp crack, a puff of smoke, and the
+boy was dead; but the supreme exaltation of a man's soul was frozen in
+his face.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For a long time Beatrice sat there, sobbing helplessly, with his cold
+hand in hers. It was nine o'clock when they started, and now the sun
+blazed at the zenith. Mrs. Mackenzie and the children were nowhere in
+sight--the boat was gone. Beatrice was as absolutely alone as if she
+had been in a desert. "Oh, if it were dark!" she thought, and then she
+prayed, in a shrill whisper: "Dear God, make it dark now!"
+
+She felt her reason slipping from her and knew that she must get away.
+Blinded by her tears, she climbed to the top of the sand hill once
+more, and saw, dimly, that the coast was clear. A few Indians still
+moved about among the dead, but there was no firing, and the garrison
+horses, riderless and blood-spattered, stood quietly here and there,
+apparently heedless of the burning heat.
+
+With the start she had, she was sure she could get away safely. Once
+on the trail, and then----
+
+She saw that saddle and bridle were right in every detail, and
+mounted. "For life," she whispered to the horse; "for your life and
+mine!" She cautiously guided Queen in and out among the sand hills
+until she came to the open prairie. Before her lay the trail and
+hovering beyond it in her distorted vision, like a mirage glimmering
+in the desert, she saw the flag flying from the ramparts of Fort Wayne.
+
+"Now then, Beauty--fly!"
+
+Like an arrow shot from a bow, Queen sped across the plain, but there
+was a war-whoop just behind them and Beatrice knew she had been seen.
+The cry came nearer and she looked back. Fifteen or twenty Indians
+were in full pursuit and others, mounted, were following them.
+
+The girl's heart rose in her throat. "On!" she breathed--"on!"
+
+The unintelligible cries of the savages echoed and re-echoed in her
+ears, becoming perceptibly fainter as she rode on. Then there was
+an exultant yell and she turned quickly in her saddle. The mounted
+Indians had overtaken the others and seemed to be gaining upon her,
+but with a sudden spurt, Queen left them far in the rear.
+
+Beatrice laughed hysterically and the sickening taste of hot blood
+was in her mouth. Those on foot had given up the chase and one of
+the horses had fallen, but well in the lead, with his sides bleeding
+cruelly, Ronald's big bay charger thundered down the trail.
+
+An arrow sang past her, then another just missed her, and she leaned
+forward, close to the horse. Queen plunged on, then suddenly snorted
+and reared as an arrow struck her flank.
+
+Beatrice managed to loosen the barb and pull it out, hurting the horse
+badly as she did so, and in the meantime the enemy gained upon her.
+Another arrow, shot from the right, pierced Queen's quivering side,
+and Beatrice, hopeless and despairing, reined in long enough to tear
+it out. She was sick at the sight of Queen's blood-stained body and
+the savage who rode Ronald's horse was almost within range.
+
+She turned, held her pistol steadily, and waited. Queen was almost
+exhausted and breathed heavily. Spurred on to new effort, the other
+Indians emerged from a cloud of dust and galloped toward their leader.
+
+A tomahawk whizzed past her and sank into the sand. Then she fired,
+and with a cry of pain, the Indian dropped from his horse.
+
+Without waiting for the word, Queen started on at a furious pace, but
+in spite of it, Beatrice managed to load her pistol again. She looked
+back only once, for she could hear the hoof-beats behind her. Ronald's
+horse, with a new rider, was again in the lead, and the rest were
+close upon his heels.
+
+Inch by inch they gained upon her and mutterings of hideous portent
+reached her ears. Queen's strength was rapidly failing, and when an
+arrow struck her in the leg, the gallant little horse stumbled and
+fell. A tomahawk gleamed just beyond them and at the same instant an
+arrow grazed the girl's left arm.
+
+Blind with pain, she staggered to her feet, put the muzzle between
+Queen's pleading, agonized eyes, and fired. The horse rolled over,
+dead, and Beatrice loaded once more, thinking grimly, as she did so,
+that there was just time.
+
+She raised the pistol, felt the burning circle of the muzzle against
+her temple, and turned for one last look at the world that once had
+seemed so fair. The Indians were almost upon her, but far out on the
+plain was a man with neither hat nor coat, riding furiously, and the
+pistol fell from her nerveless hand.
+
+"Robert!" she cried, as if he could hear. "Go back!"
+
+All at once she saw what he meant to do. Already he had turned a
+little toward the lake, hoping to cut them off.
+
+"Oh God!" breathed Beatrice. "And I called him a coward!"
+
+The Indians now were not more than three hundred feet away, but when
+they saw him coming they swerved away from Beatrice and rode toward
+him. Robert turned straight east at a plunging gallop, then there was
+a sharp report from his musket and a savage fell dead.
+
+Then he threw away the musket, pulled out his pistol, fired and
+wounded another. A tomahawk grazed his head and the blood dyed his
+face, but he kept on.
+
+From where she stood, she saw it all. Hand to hand, almost--yes, they
+were upon him now, but there was a gleam of silver in the sun and two
+of them fell back, wounded.
+
+"Lexington!" she cried. "His grandfather's sword!"
+
+All but four retreated, though his horse was hurt and well-nigh spent.
+His next shot missed fire and his pistol was snatched out of his hand,
+but the keen blade shone once more and another was dismounted.
+
+The blood streamed from his wound as he dashed toward her, gaining
+upon the two who were pursuing him. All at once he stopped in his mad
+pace, turned, and with a single swift cut struck down the one nearest
+him. With a wild war-whoop the second Indian signalled to another who
+stood beside his dead horse, far out on the plain, but there was no
+answer. Quick as a flash Beatrice ran toward them, aimed steadily,
+fired, and the last Indian fell, mortally wounded.
+
+"Thank God!" cried Robert, as he fell from his horse. "You are safe!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They stood alone upon the desolate plain, looking into each other's
+eyes. Robert's clothes were torn and cut, and his face was black with
+blood and dust, but he seemed like a god to her.
+
+"You saved me," she murmured, with parched lips. "How did you save me?"
+
+"You were like another Beatrice," he whispered,--"you led me through
+hell!"
+
+Face to face at last, after all the misunderstandings, Beatrice saw
+him as he was. The terrors of the day were temporarily forgotten, as
+when one wakes from a horrible dream to a new joy. Something stirred
+in the girl's heart and sprang, full-fledged, into exultant being. The
+light in her eyes confused him, and he turned his face away.
+
+"It was nothing," he said diffidently,--"only a running fight--that's
+all. When the history of to-day is written, it will be a single
+paragraph--no more. Two officers and thirty-six regulars killed in
+action, two women and twelve children--a mere handful. No one will
+know that a civilian was so fortunate as to save the woman he loved.
+It is a common thing--not worth the writing."
+
+Beatrice, still transfigured, put her hands upon his shoulders; but,
+though he trembled at her touch, he kept his face turned away.
+
+"Don't thank me," he said unsteadily. "I can't bear it. It is nothing.
+Perhaps I've proved that I'm not----"
+
+The girl put her fingers on his lips. "You shall not say it!" she
+cried. "With all my heart I ask you to forgive me--you have covered me
+with shame."
+
+He turned and looked down into her eyes. "Shame," he repeated; "no,
+not you. Forget it, Bee; it is nothing. A single paragraph, that is
+all--which has to do with the soldiers, not with me."
+
+"My soldier!" she said in a new voice, "my captain--my king--listen!
+No better, braver fight was ever made. The thirty-six who were killed
+in action have done no more than you; and some day, when they write it
+all, they will say a civilian fought like a soldier to save the life
+of the woman who loved him!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+RESCUE
+
+
+After the first part of the battle was over, the bateau in which Mrs.
+Mackenzie and the children sat was brought near the shore at the mouth
+of the river. When Mrs. Franklin was taken from her horse, an Indian
+carried her to the boat, laid her in the bottom of it, signed to her
+to keep quiet, and covered her with a blanket. She was badly wounded,
+and her position was well-nigh intolerable, but she was afraid to move.
+
+Two warriors soon approached and demanded the prisoners which
+they said were concealed under the luggage, but the Indian at the
+oars assured them that the bateau contained only the family of
+Shaw-ne-aw-kee, and they went away apparently satisfied.
+
+Katherine had fainted when she found herself in the arms of a painted
+savage. When she came to her senses she was in the deep water, and
+the Indian still held her in a firm grasp. She struggled until her
+strength was almost gone, but then perceived that her captor did not
+intend to drown her. Long and earnestly she looked into his face, and
+at length, in spite of the hideous disguise of his war-paint, she
+recognised Black Partridge.
+
+Another brave joined him, and after a long conversation between them
+she was left to the care of the second Indian. Black Partridge went
+back to the battlefield, received Captain Franklin's surrender,
+through an interpreter, and then returned to Mrs. Howard.
+
+When the firing had ceased, she was lifted out of the water and
+carried to the shore. Black Partridge took her by the arm and led her
+northward along the beach. She was drenched through, and her clothes
+were heavy with water. A squaw had stolen her shoes, and the long
+march upon the burning sand was exceedingly painful; but when they
+came near the Fort and she saw her mother upon the piazza at the
+trading station, she went on with new courage.
+
+In the dismantled home the survivors were gathered. Captain and
+Mrs. Franklin, both wounded; Lieutenant Howard, also wounded; the
+Mackenzies, their children, and a few of the soldiers were all that
+remained of the company that had fared forth so gallantly only a few
+hours before.
+
+When Katherine staggered in, her husband caught her in his arms, and
+his hot tears fell upon her face when he stooped to kiss her. "I
+thought you were dead!" he cried. "I never knew till now how much I
+love you!"
+
+A radiant smile illumined her white face. "I thought you were dead,
+too," she whispered, "and I did not care to live. I wanted to be with
+you, wherever you might be."
+
+One after another described what he had seen, and the melancholy
+details of the battle were soon told. It was stipulated in the terms
+of the surrender that the lives of the prisoners should be spared; but
+the Indians considered the wounded exempt from that provision, and
+horrible things were done upon the field.
+
+Doctor Norton's heroic efforts to save Katherine, the valiant death
+of Captain Wells, Mad Margaret's fearless dash against the enemy, the
+half-breed's gallant fight, and the courage of the soldier's wife,
+who let herself be literally hacked to pieces rather than be taken
+prisoner--these things and many others were sadly recounted.
+
+Captain Franklin assured them that Ensign Ronald was dead, and they
+were glad to believe him; but no one knew what had become of Robert
+and Beatrice. "Forsyth fought beside me for a while," said the Captain.
+
+"And with me, also," added the Lieutenant, "on another part of the
+field."
+
+"Where is my Tuzzin Bee?" asked Maria Indiana, plaintively. "I want my
+Tuzzin Bee!"
+
+At this they all broke down, and even the men were not ashamed of
+their tears. Beatrice, the merry-hearted, whose birdlike laughter
+still seemed to linger in the desolate home--where was she? "Oh, God,"
+sobbed Mrs. Mackenzie, "if we only knew that she was dead!"
+
+"We'll hope she is," said the trader, brokenly. "She must be, or she'd
+be here!" He tried to speak as if he were sure, but his face belied
+his words.
+
+Outside, groups of Indians moved about restlessly. From sheer savage
+wantonness they had killed the cattle that were left to them, as the
+troops turned away from the Fort. The houses had all been plundered,
+and incongruous articles were strewn all over the plain. The finery
+of the women had been divided, and the savage who had Captain Wells's
+scalp at his belt wore Katherine's bonnet upon his head.
+
+Mackenzie, with his penknife, had removed two bullets from Mrs.
+Franklin's arm, and had improvised a bandage from some old linen he
+found in the house. Katherine was badly wounded in the shoulder, where
+the tomahawk meant for her had struck when Black Partridge snatched
+her away. Lieutenant Howard had several cuts upon his body and Captain
+Franklin and Mackenzie were each wounded in the thigh.
+
+As some of them had suspected from the first, they were British
+prisoners, and were to be taken to Fort Mackinac or Detroit very soon.
+"To-morrow," answered the Indian chief whom Mackenzie asked, "or
+perhaps the next day. No stay here long."
+
+Black Partridge had vanished as completely as if the earth had
+swallowed him up. The Mackenzies looked for him anxiously among the
+Indians who patrolled the Fort and the river bank. In spite of the
+surrender, his presence was the only assurance of safety they had.
+
+An animated discussion was going on in front of the house, for a party
+of Indians, evidently from the Wabash, had just arrived. There was
+much loud talking and many gestures, and the bleeding scalps were
+fingered with admiring curiosity. Mrs. Mackenzie sat near the window,
+sheltered by a curtain, hoping and yet fearing to see Beatrice's
+beautiful hair ornamenting the belt of some savage.
+
+The mutterings outside grew louder, and hostile glances were turned
+upon the trading station. "Mackenzie," said the Captain, "have we any
+means of defence?"
+
+"Not even a musket," answered the trader, bitterly; "and that door
+wouldn't hold more than two minutes."
+
+Even as he spoke a company of Indians came up the path. "Quick,
+Katherine," commanded Mrs. Mackenzie--"here!" She pushed her on to the
+bed in the next room and covered her with the feather-bed, fearing
+that her light hair and fair skin would betray her as a newcomer to
+the more remote Indians.
+
+With supreme self-command Mrs. Mackenzie sat on the bed beside her
+and sorted out a bag of patchwork pieces, humming as she did so, in a
+voice she scarcely knew.
+
+The intruders entered and went through the house, peering into every
+nook and corner. When they were in the next room, Katherine whispered
+to her mother: "Oh, let me go! This is unbearable, and I can die but
+once--let them have me!"
+
+"Hush," sang Mrs. Mackenzie, to a faltering tune. "Don't move and
+they will go away. If you stir it means the death of us all!" She went
+on with her work, scattering the gay pieces all over the bed and the
+floor, but the Indians did not go.
+
+They grouped themselves about the doors and windows, effectually
+cutting off escape. Every one of them was heavily armed, and their
+faces were sullen and revengeful. They began to mutter to each other
+and exchange significant glances. All hope was lost, when the door was
+pushed open and Black Partridge came into the room.
+
+"How now, my friends," he said. "A good day to you. I was told that
+there were enemies here, but I am glad to find only friends. Why have
+you blackened your faces? Is it that you are mourning for the friends
+you have lost in battle? Or is it that you are fasting? If so, ask our
+friend here and he will give you to eat. He is the Indians' friend,
+and never yet refused them what they had need of."
+
+Thus shamed, the spokesman of the party explained that they had come
+for some white cotton cloth in which to wrap their dead. This was
+given them and they went away peaceably.
+
+Then Mackenzie had a long talk with the chief and told him of their
+anxiety for Robert and Beatrice. The others, guessing at the subject,
+pressed close around them. "What does he say?" asked Katherine,
+anxiously; but the trader made no answer until the Indian had gone.
+
+"He says he will put a strong guard of his own people all around the
+house and that we will be safe here, but we must strike no lights and
+make no noise, because some of the Indians from the far country do not
+know that we are their friends. He says the big soldier is dead, from
+a tomahawk that struck him in the breast, and that the little black
+horse is also dead on the plains far south of here; but neither the
+scalp of the paleface nor that of her lover are among those his braves
+have taken. He bids us to be quiet and to wait for news."
+
+"To wait," sighed Mrs. Mackenzie--"to wait for news! It is the hardest
+thing in the world!"
+
+The heat of the afternoon was sickening, so the curtains were closely
+drawn, and the little company huddled together, scarcely daring to
+speak above a whisper, but gathering human comfort and new courage
+from the mere sight of each other, wounded though they were.
+
+Maria Indiana and the baby were put to bed for their regular afternoon
+nap, and some of the comforts of life were still left in the house.
+So the day passed on, with a double line of Indians around the house,
+and the hum and whir of midsummer coming to their ears from the fields
+beyond them, as if there had been no massacre and there was no such
+thing as death.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Robert and Beatrice were in the shade of a sand hill, nearly five
+miles south of the Fort. When his horse had rested a little, he
+assisted her to mount, and walked by her side until they reached the
+only shelter that was available. The sun was approaching the west,
+and the mound kept off the direct rays, as well as the south-west
+wind. They were faint from hunger, and both were slightly wounded, but
+otherwise they were quite comfortable. In front of them lay the lake,
+serene and smooth, with not a ripple upon its glassy surface, and no
+reflection of the conflict that had just been waged was mirrored upon
+its waters.
+
+Robert was one who recovered his strength quickly, and as the
+afternoon wore on he began to feel like himself. After reaching the
+sand hill, his first act had been to cut open the sleeve of the girl's
+dress and apply his lips to her wound.
+
+"Why?" she asked. "Why do you do that?"
+
+"Because the arrow may have been poisoned, dear."
+
+"Then you'll be poisoned, too," she said, drawing away from him.
+
+"No, I won't."
+
+In spite of her protests, he drew the blood until no more came, then
+bathed the wound with water from the lake, and bandaged it with a
+clean handkerchief he happened to have in his pocket. Afterward,
+lover-like, he kissed the fair, smooth arm from shoulder to wrist,
+with an exquisite sense of possession.
+
+"What are we going to do?" asked Beatrice, after a little.
+
+"We can do nothing until night. Then I'll cover you with sand--all but
+your head, and go back to the waggons for food and ammunition. I'll
+get another horse, too, if I can find one, and then we'll go to Fort
+Wayne."
+
+"And if you can't find another horse?"
+
+"You'll ride this one, and I'll lead him. I'll get your saddle if I
+can."
+
+"We'll never make it," she said sadly.
+
+"Yes, we will--I'm sure of it. Life means too much to us, darling, to
+give it up without a fight."
+
+The deep crimson dyed her white face. "I--I had to tell you," she
+whispered, "or you never would have known."
+
+A long shadow appeared upon the sand, and Robert saw the unmistakable
+outlines of a feather head-dress. Beatrice was nestled in his arms,
+with her face against his breast. His pistol was at his belt, loaded,
+and his sword lay near him. "Is your pistol loaded, dear?" he asked,
+very softly.
+
+She started away from him in terror. "Yes," she cried; "but why?"
+
+"Hush!" He pointed to the shadow on the sand, which stealthily
+approached.
+
+"Oh!" she moaned; "after all this!"
+
+Robert rose to his feet and went noiselessly toward the southern side
+of the sand hill. Beatrice stood just behind him, white as death. Then
+Black Partridge appeared before them, with something very like a smile
+upon his face. "How!" he grunted cordially.
+
+The conversation which followed was a veritable "confusion of
+tongues." Robert knew about as much of the Indian language as the
+other did of English; but, after some little time, he was made to
+understand that they were British prisoners, and that, for the
+present, they were safe.
+
+"Ask him about Aunt Eleanor and the others," said Beatrice.
+
+There was another long colloquy. "They are all safe," Robert
+explained, finally; "the White Father and his wife, the other White
+Father and his fair-skinned wife, and the family of Shaw-nee-aw-kee.
+They have been anxious about us, and when he goes back he will tell
+them that we are all right."
+
+By signs and broken speech Black Partridge made it evident that they
+could not stay where they were, and ordered them to follow him. Robert
+demurred, but the chief frowned upon him so fiercely that he dared not
+disobey. From a voluble speech in the Indian tongue, Robert gathered
+that Black Partridge had not forgotten his promise--that the memory of
+the picture was still warm in his heart, and that he was the faithful
+friend of the paleface and her lover.
+
+Beatrice smiled when Robert told her what he had said. "He knew,
+didn't he?" she asked shyly.
+
+They began their long march northward upon the sand. Beatrice was
+mounted, and Robert walked beside her. Straight as an arrow and as
+tireless as an eagle, the Indian went swiftly in front of them,
+looking back, now and then, to see if they were following.
+
+It was a hard journey for Beatrice, since the dead lay all around
+her. Even the Indians Robert had killed seemed to distress her, and
+when she passed the spot where Queen lay she could not keep back her
+tears. Vultures, with slow-beating wings, were silhouetted now and
+then against the setting sun, as they went from one grewsome feast to
+another.
+
+"What are those birds?" asked the girl. "I never saw them before."
+
+"I do not know," lied Robert. "I have never seen them, either."
+
+The wind had covered Ronald's body with drifted sand, and she was
+spared the bitterness of that; but the plain of death, with its burden
+of mangled bodies, would have touched a harder heart than hers.
+
+"Don't look, darling," he pleaded, and, obediently, she turned her
+face away, but the tears fell fast, none the less, and she could not
+repress her sobs.
+
+"Sweetheart," said Forsyth, coming closer to her side, "I can bear
+anything but that. Your tears make me weak--your grief unmans me."
+
+She hid her face in her hands and struggled hard for self-control.
+Then he went around to the other side of the horse. "Look at the lake,
+dear," he said; "or look at me and forget what lies beyond."
+
+So they marched, in the full glare of the afternoon sun. The pitiless
+heat burned into the sand and was thrown back into their faces. But
+Beatrice did not once turn her head to the left, and Robert, looking
+past her, was thankful that she did not. Chandonnais and his mother
+were side by side, locked in each other's arms. Their bodies had not
+been touched, but others near them had been stripped and mutilated
+beyond all recognition.
+
+When they came to the bank of the river, they looked anxiously toward
+the Fort and the trading station, but saw only Indians. A young
+warrior met Black Partridge here, and Beatrice was told to dismount.
+She did so, thinking that in a few minutes more she would be at home
+again, but when she saw that they were not going up the river she
+could not keep back a cry of pain.
+
+The chief turned upon her fiercely, and muttered angrily to Robert.
+"Hush, dear!" he said to Beatrice, but his face was very pale.
+
+They stood there for some time, and at length a large canoe was
+brought down-stream. "Oh, where are we going!" she moaned.
+
+"I don't know, dearest," answered Robert, in a low tone; "but wherever
+it is, we're going together." His fingers tightened upon his sword,
+that still hung at his side.
+
+They got into the canoe, Beatrice at the bow and Robert at the
+stern. Black Partridge took the paddle, and with swift, sure strokes
+they shot out into the lake and then turned north. After some time
+Robert ventured to ask a question, but received no answer except a
+meaningless grunt.
+
+The last light lay upon the water and touched it to exceeding beauty.
+The lake seemed like a great turquoise, deepening slowly to sapphire.
+Sunset colours flamed upon the clouds near the horizon, but their
+hearts were heavy, and they did not see.
+
+As twilight approached, the canoe moved even more swiftly and Black
+Partridge never faltered at his task. Robert began to wonder if they
+were going to Fort Mackinac, and laughed at himself for the thought.
+
+Now and then, after a sudden spurt ahead, the Indian anxiously scanned
+the shore, as if he were looking for a landmark. At last they turned
+in. With a grating of the keel the canoe grounded on the beach, and
+they got out, still wondering, still afraid, and completely at the
+Indian's mercy.
+
+He signed to them to follow him, and they went up the steep bank as
+best they could, catching at saplings and undergrowth to keep their
+footing sure.
+
+Once on the bluff they turned northward again, and Beatrice, utterly
+weary and hopeless, leaned heavily upon Robert's arm. Some way, the
+ground was familiar to him, but he could not have told where they were.
+
+It was almost dusk when Black Partridge stopped and waited for them.
+They followed him down a little incline, which was smooth and well
+worn. "Why!" said Beatrice, in astonishment.
+
+They were at the door of the little house in the woods that they had
+discovered so long ago; and over the doorway the silver cross still
+hung, its gleam hidden in the darkness.
+
+The Indian spoke to Robert, repeating each sentence slowly, until he
+understood. Then Robert shook hands with him, and the Indian plunged
+down the bluff, ran along the beach to his canoe, and went south.
+
+With a soft, rhythmic sound the splash of the paddle died into a
+murmur, then into silence. "What was it?" asked the girl, still afraid.
+
+"We are to stay here to-night and perhaps longer--we are to wait until
+he comes for us. He says this is Mad Margaret's cabin, and that no one
+will dare to molest us here. The Great Spirit is already displeased,
+because by an accident she was killed. It is not good to touch her
+nor anything that belongs to her."
+
+"Are we safe?" asked Beatrice, in low, moved tones. "Can it be that we
+are safe at last?"
+
+Robert took her into his arms and kissed her twice. "My sweetheart,"
+he said, "my own brave girl, we are safe at last, and we are together
+for always. Nothing but death can part us now!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+THE REPRIEVE
+
+
+Beatrice looked around the cabin curiously, though its aspect was very
+little changed from her memory of it. The rude, narrow bed at the
+farther end was still covered with the blue-and-white patchwork quilt
+which Mrs. Mackenzie had so strangely lost. The furniture, as before,
+consisted of rough chairs and tables made from boxes and barrels by an
+inexperienced hand. New shelves had been added, and these were filled
+with provisions in the familiar guise of the trading station.
+
+A bolt of calico, some warm winter clothing, and countless articles
+of necessity and comfort were all neatly put away. Chandonnais had
+evidently pilfered from his employer constantly and systematically.
+Whatever he saw that seemed desirable for his mother's use, he
+had plainly taken at the first opportunity. Even the children's
+playthings had been brought there to amuse Mad Margaret.
+
+Beatrice pulled aside a cotton curtain that had been fastened across
+one corner, and was not a little surprised to find her own pink calico
+gown, which she had made early in the summer. Robert was as interested
+as she was, though the light was rapidly failing. He had found a
+tallow dip and kept it within easy reach, though he had his doubts as
+to the wisdom of a light.
+
+With an exclamation of astonishment, he stooped and picked up a pair
+of moccasins--small, dainty, and heavily beaded--the very pair he had
+lost.
+
+"See, dearest," he said, "these are the moccasins I had for your
+birthday. I told you they had been stolen, don't you remember?"
+
+The girl turned her sweet face to his. "I'm going to thank you for
+them now."
+
+"I don't deserve it, sweetheart, and I'll tell you why. I wanted to
+tell you then, but, someway, I didn't have the courage. I didn't know
+it was your birthday--I'd had the moccasins a long time, but I didn't
+want George to get the better of me, and so I let you think I knew."
+
+The mention of Ronald's name brought tears to her eyes. "I have a
+confession to make," she said. "Come here." She put her arm around
+his neck and drew his head down, then whispered to him.
+
+"My darling!" he replied, brokenly, "did you think me beast enough to
+grudge him that? I'm glad you did it and I always will be. Poor lad,
+he couldn't have you, and you are mine for always."
+
+"I know," she sighed; "but I like to think that I made him happy--that
+he was happy when he died."
+
+"He loved you, Bee--almost as much as I do."
+
+"He couldn't," she said softly, "for nobody ever loved anybody else as
+much as you love me"; and he was quite willing to have it so.
+
+Shortly afterward he came to an active realisation of the fact that
+neither of them had eaten anything since morning. He lighted the
+tallow dip and searched the cabin until he found a generous supply of
+the plain fare to which they were accustomed. He wanted to build a
+fire and make some tea for Beatrice, but she refused, and asked for
+water instead. He went down the bluff and brought her some, but it was
+so warm as to be almost insipid.
+
+After they had eaten, the inevitable reaction came to Beatrice.
+The high nervous tension of the past week suddenly snapped and
+left her as helpless as a child. "Oh!" she moaned, "the heat is
+unbearable--why doesn't it get cool!"
+
+She threw herself upon the narrow bed, utterly exhausted. With a
+clumsy, but gentle touch, he took the pins out of her hair and
+unfastened her shoes. Beatrice suddenly sat up and threw her shoes
+into the farthest corner of the cabin. Then a small, soft, indistinct
+bundle was pushed to the floor.
+
+Robert laughed and brought the moccasins. "Will you let me put them
+on?" he asked. Without waiting for an answer he slipped them on her
+bare feet, not at all surprised to find that they fitted perfectly.
+"The little feet," he said, tenderly; "the bare, soft, dimpled things!"
+
+"The moccasins are softer," she answered, in a matter-of-fact tone,
+"and I think I'm going to sleep now."
+
+For a long time he sat beside her, holding her hand in his.
+They talked of the thousand things which had suddenly become
+important--their first meeting, their individual impressions of it,
+and of everything that had happened since. With some trepidation he
+told her that he was mainly responsible for the poem which accompanied
+the Indian basket.
+
+"It was a very bad poem," she observed.
+
+"Yes," answered Robert, with a new note of happy laughter in his
+voice; "it was an unspeakable poem."
+
+Then he described the arrangement which he and Ronald had made "to
+lessen the friction," as he said, and she smiled in the midst of her
+tears. "Poor lad!" she sighed.
+
+"Poor lad!" he repeated; and then, after a long silence, "true lover
+and true friend."
+
+The intervals between question and answer lengthened insensibly, and
+at last Beatrice slept. He stole away from her on tiptoe and went out
+in front of the cabin, where there was only a narrow ledge upon the
+bluff. He sat down in the doorway, where he could hear the slightest
+sound, and deliberately set himself to watch out the night.
+
+He was physically exhausted, but his mind was strangely active. For
+the first time he was in a position to review the events of his stay
+at Fort Dearborn, from the night of his arrival, when Mad Margaret had
+appeared at the trading station, to the present hour, when he sat in
+her pathetic little cabin, with the girl he loved so near him that he
+could hear her deep breathing as she slept.
+
+"What has it done for me?" he thought--"what has it brought me?" The
+answer was "Beatrice," which came with a passionate uplifting of
+soul. With a certain boyish idea of knight-errantry, he had kept
+his hands and his heart clean, and, in consequence, love brought
+to him at last an exquisite fineness of joy. In that hour of close
+self-communion, his deepest satisfaction was this--that in all the
+years, in spite of frequent temptation, there was nothing of which he
+need to be ashamed--nothing to remember with a pang of bitterness,
+when Beatrice lifted her innocent eyes to his.
+
+"Sir Galahad," some of his friends had called him, jeeringly, and,
+before, it had never failed to bring the colour to his face; but now
+the words rang through his consciousness like a trumpet-blast of
+victory. He was spared that inner knowledge of shame and unworthiness
+which lies, like bitter lees, in the wine of man's love.
+
+"Beatrice! Beatrice!" Like another of her name she had led him through
+hell, and he saw now a certain sweet slavery in prospect. Wherever his
+thoughts might wander, she would always be with him, like the golden
+thread which runs through a dull tapestry, in and out of the design,
+sometimes hidden for an instant, but never lost.
+
+Aunt Eleanor and Uncle John--they had been like father and mother
+to him, and he loved the children as though they were his own. The
+plaintive lisps of the little girl came back to his memory with
+remorseful tenderness, and he smiled as he wondered, dreamily, what
+Beatrice might have been at four or five. Swiftly upon the thought
+came another, which set the blood to singing in his veins, and
+which he put from him quickly, as one retreats before something too
+beautiful and too delicate to touch.
+
+Captain Wells and Doctor Norton--they were dead. And Ronald--a lump
+came into his throat which he could not keep down, for, of all the
+men in the world, the blue-eyed soldier was best fitted to be his
+friend. They supplemented one another perfectly, each having what
+the other lacked, and enough in common to make firm neutral ground
+whereupon friendship might safely stand. Of his other friends at the
+Fort he thought idly, since he had not known them so well, but he was
+genuinely glad that they had survived the horrors of the day.
+
+As night wore on, the battle assumed indistinct and indefinite
+phases. Here and there some incident stood out vividly; unrelated
+and detached. He had spoken truly when he told Beatrice that "a mere
+handful" had been lost. What, indeed, did such things matter in the
+face of history?
+
+It was but the price of a new country, which courageous souls had
+been paying for two centuries and more, and which some must continue
+to pay until----
+
+Like a lightning flash came sudden breadth of view. What if a thousand
+had died instead of fifty; how could it change the meaning? Broad and
+beautiful, from the Atlantic to the unknown shore unmeasured leagues
+away, stretched a new country, vast beyond the dreams of empire, which
+belonged to his race for the asking.
+
+Something stirred in his pulses, uncertain but vital; so strangely
+elemental that it seemed one with the reaches of water that lay just
+beyond him. Here, at the head of Lake Michigan, some day there must
+be--what?
+
+There was a rustle beside him, but it was only a leaf. In the
+stillness it seemed as if it must wake Beatrice. Another near it
+fluttered idly, and a white birch trembled. A sudden coolness came
+into the air, then out of the lake rose the blessed north-east wind,
+with life and healing upon its grey wings.
+
+He went into the cabin to put a blanket over Beatrice. Her face was
+turned toward the door, that her wounded arm might be uppermost, and
+something in her attitude of childish helplessness brought the mist to
+his eyes. The white, soft arm, with the bandage upon it, had its own
+irresistible appeal. Half fearing to wake her, he stooped to kiss it
+softly, thrilled with a tenderness so great that his love was almost
+pain.
+
+He went back to the cabin door, where the wind was rioting amid the
+saplings, and sat down again. Already there was a hushed murmur upon
+the shore, and when the late moon rose, full and golden, from the
+mysterious vault beyond the horizon, the lake was white with tossing
+plumes--the manes of the plunging steeds that lead the legions of the
+sea.
+
+Far out upon the water was a path of beaten gold--that fairy path
+which the little Beatrice had thought to take when she went to visit
+the moon people. The memory of that night came back with rapturous
+pain--when he had found the words to tell her what she was and what
+she meant to him, as far as words could express the sacred emotion
+that was kindled upon the altars of his inmost soul.
+
+The moonlight shone into the cabin and full upon the girl's face. The
+childish sweetness, the womanly softness of her as she lay there came
+to him like the breath of a rose. A thread of light went higher and
+touched the silver cross to lambent flame. Beyond it, over the cabin,
+was----
+
+He sprang to his feet and ran up the little incline to the bluff.
+In spite of the thick woods he could see the ominous glare upon the
+clouds in the south-west, and knew only too well what it portended.
+"Cowards! Dogs!" he muttered. "They are burning the Fort!"
+
+His hands shut and opened nervously, and the nails cut deep into the
+flesh. A savage impulse to wrest every foot of soil from the Indians
+shook him from head to foot. Here, at the head of Lake Michigan--then
+the dream came upon him with the claim of mastery. "The baseless
+fabric of this vision.... The cloud-capped towers and gorgeous
+palaces...." His thought swiftly framed the words, then he laughed
+shortly, and turned away.
+
+But, all at once, he knew what he must do. He saw himself clearly in
+the van of that humble army, which has no trappings of soldiery or
+state, but only the weapons of peace, by which, from the beginning,
+all men have ultimately conquered. The plough and the harrow, the
+spade and the pruning knife, the steady toil with hand and brain--here
+and now.
+
+Step by step he saw the savages forced backward, their arrows met
+with muskets and the ring of steel--back to the farthest limits of
+the civilisation which at last should sweep them from the face of
+the earth. It was the dominant race beating back the opposition; the
+conquest of the wilderness by those fitted to rule.
+
+Fired with purpose and ambition, he stood there until the lurid light
+in the south-west began to fade. Not one life, but the many--not the
+reaping, but the planting--he did not know it, but strong upon him had
+come the spirit of the pioneer.
+
+The moon rose high in the heavens and from the zenith sent stray
+lines of light to touch the cross, where the figure of the Christ,
+wondrously moulded, was eloquent with voiceless appeal. The stars
+faded, as if blown out by the wind, and then there was a soft voice at
+his side: "Have I been asleep, dear?"
+
+"You sweet girl," he laughed, taking her into his arms; "you've slept
+all night--it's nearly time for sunrise, now."
+
+"I didn't know. You'll go to sleep now, won't you?"
+
+"No, dearest--I'm not sleepy."
+
+"Neither am I, so I'm going to stay with you."
+
+In the doorway of the cabin, with their arms around each other, they
+sat while the darkness waned. The wind lifted her magnificent hair in
+long, slender strands, and now and then, when a heavy tress touched
+his face caressingly, Beatrice laughed and pulled it away.
+
+"Don't!" he said.
+
+"You dear, silly boy, you don't want my hair in your face."
+
+"Yes, I do."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because I love you, from the crown of your head to your dimpled foot,
+with all the strength of my soul."
+
+There was a long silence, then the girl sighed contentedly. "I never
+thought love was anything like this, did you?"
+
+"No, dear--I didn't know what it was."
+
+"I didn't, either, but, of course, I wondered. From all I had heard
+and read I was afraid of it, and I thought it would make me unhappy,
+but it doesn't. I can't tell you how it makes me feel. It seems as if
+God made us for each other in the beginning, but kept us apart, and
+even after we met it wasn't much better until all at once there was a
+light, and then we knew. It seems as if I never could be miserable or
+out of sorts again; as if everything was right and always would be;
+that whatever came to me you'd help me bear it, and always you'd be my
+shield."
+
+"Sweetheart," he answered, deeply touched, "I trust I may be. It
+would be my greatest happiness to bear your pain for you."
+
+Far in the east there was a faint colour upon the clouds. "See," she
+said, "it is day." He drew her closer, and she went on,--"Think what
+it means to go away forever from all this horror--to go back to the
+hills!"
+
+Robert swallowed hard, then said thickly, "Heart of Mine, I would die
+to shield you, but Destiny calls us here."
+
+With a cry the girl started to her feet. "Here!" she gasped. "Robert,
+what do you mean!"
+
+In an instant he was beside her, with her cold hand in his. "What do
+you mean!" she cried.
+
+"Listen, dear; I am asking nothing of you--it is for you to say.
+To-morrow we will be taken to Detroit as British prisoners--for how
+long we do not know. The Indians have burned the Fort, but some day,
+when the war is over, we must come here to live, for to go back is to
+acknowledge defeat."
+
+The word stung her pride. "Defeat!" she said; "and why? Why are we
+defeated if we choose to live in a safe place instead of in danger--in
+peace rather than in the fear of massacre? Yesterday, did you not see?
+Only by the merest chance I am not among them--and yet you ask me to
+go back!"
+
+Her voice vibrated with feeling, and her breast heaved. Even in the
+dim, purple light of early morning he could see the suffering in her
+face, and it struck him like a blow.
+
+"My darling, listen--let me tell you what I mean. We will go wherever
+you say. If it pleases you to live in France or England, we will go
+there--it is for you to decide, not for me. Do you understand?"
+
+"Yes," she answered dully. "Go on."
+
+Robert's dream was dim and the fire of his ambition had dwindled, but
+he went on bravely. "We are at the very edge of civilisation, dear,
+and it must go on beyond us. The tide is moving westward, and we must
+either go with it or against it. We must go forward or retreat, there
+is no standing still. Yesterday a battle was fought, which, in its
+essence, was for the possession of the frontier. We have surrendered,
+but we have not given up. If we retreat, it must be fought again. From
+shore to shore of this great country there must be one flag and one
+law. Here, where the ashes of the Fort now lie, some day a city must
+stand."
+
+"So," said the girl, with a harsh laugh, "and you would build a city
+from dreams?"
+
+The tone hurt him to the quick. "Yes," he answered steadfastly, "I
+would. Nothing in the world was ever built without a dream at the
+beginning."
+
+"Well," she said, after a silence--"what then?"
+
+"Sweetheart," he cried, "you make it hard!"
+
+Upon the purple light in the east came gold and crimson, touched
+here and there with deep sapphire blue. Little by little a glorious
+fabric was woven upon the vast looms of dawn. Beatrice saw his face,
+strained and anxious, and knew in her heart that she would yield. What
+Katherine had said came back to her--"When you find your mate, you
+have to go--there is no other way."
+
+"To-morrow we go," he was saying, "back to the hills, but that is not
+the end--it is only the reprieve. We must come back here to fight it
+out, to finish the task we have begun, to hold our place in the face
+of all odds. We must stand in the front rank of civilisation, make our
+footing steady and sure, carry the flag westward into the stronghold
+of the wilderness--make a city, if you will, from dreams.
+
+"Beatrice, this is the last time--I shall never ask you again. We will
+do as you will--this is my only plea. I ask you now, with the horrors
+of yesterday still alive in your heart, with your wound still open and
+sore, to come back here with me, when the Fort is rebuilt, and fight
+it out by my side.
+
+"It must be done--by others if not by us, and if we retreat we are
+shamed. God knows I love you, or I would not ask you this. God knows I
+would shield you, and yet I would not have you shamed. Wherever there
+is human life, there is also danger, but we must make a place where
+our children and our children's children may live without fear. Heart
+of Mine, so strong and brave, you are not the one to falter--my Life,
+my Queen," he cried, in a voice that rang, "are you not a mate for a
+man?"
+
+Prismatic colours lay on the water and the sunrise stained her face.
+Far across the pearly reaches a new day was dawning, and she looked at
+him steadily, as if her eyes would search his inmost soul.
+
+"Once more," he said huskily, "will you come and do your part? Will
+you fight it out with me?"
+
+Love and pain were in his voice--his body was tense and eager, like
+one who pleads for his utmost joy. Beatrice felt his courage, his
+passionate uplifting, and it stirred her pulses sharply, like a bugle
+call. Caught on that wave of absolute surrender, seeking only for the
+ultimate good, the girl's soul rose superbly to meet his own.
+
+The first ray of sun leaped across the water, to touch her face with
+transfiguring light, and there was a gleam from the cross above her,
+where the splendour of the morning was turned back toward the altars
+from whence it came. Her fear fell from her like a garment, the
+horrors of the past were forgotten, and she saw herself one with him,
+on whatever height he might choose to stand.
+
+Her burnished hair was like an aureole about her, and in her eyes was
+the fire of victory. Mate for a man she was in that exalted moment,
+when she leaned toward him with her lips parted and her soul aflame
+with high resolve. The eastern heavens illumined with a flood of white
+light that seemed like a challenge.
+
+"Once more, sweetheart--will you come?"
+
+She smiled and her sweet lips trembled as if already she felt his
+kiss, then clear and strong as the note of a silver trumpet came the
+girl's triumphant answer. "Yes," she cried, "I will!"
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+By MYRTLE REED
+
+  LOVE LETTERS OF A MUSICIAN
+  LATER LOVE LETTERS OF A MUSICIAN
+  THE SPINSTER BOOK
+  LAVENDER AND OLD LACE
+  THE SHADOW OF VICTORY
+  PICKABACK SONGS
+
+G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
+
+New York      London
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+By Myrtle Reed
+
+Lavender and Old Lace
+
+
+  12°. (By mail, $1.60)               net, $1.50
+  Full crimson morocco, in a box       "    2.00
+  Gray ooze leather, in a box          "    2.50
+  Lavender Silk, in a box              "    3.50
+
+     "A rare book, exquisite in spirit and conception, full of delicate
+     fancy, of tenderness, of delightful humor and spontaneity. The
+     story is too dainty, too delicate for analysis.... It is a book
+     to be enjoyed, and it is so suitably clad that its charm is
+     enhanced."--_Detroit Free Press_.
+
+
+The Spinster Book
+
+  12°. Gilt top. (By mail, $1.60)      net, $1.50
+  Full crimson morocco, in a box        "    2.00
+
+     "A _gem_ in a dainty, attractive, and artistic setting.... Miss
+     Reed is delightfully witty, delightfully humorous, delightfully
+     cynical, delightfully sane, and, above all, delightfully
+     spontaneous. The pages sparkle with bright, clear wit; they
+     bubble with honest, hearty humor; they contain many stings but
+     no savage thrusts.... A magazine of epigrams for a rapid-firing
+     gun."--_Philadelphia Telegraph._
+
+
+Love Letters of a Musician       } Two
+Later Love Letters of a Musician } vols.
+
+  12°. Gilt top                       each, $1.75
+  Full crimson morocco, in a box        "    2.50
+
+     "Miss Reed's books are exquisite prose poems--words strung on
+     thought-threads of gold--in which a musician tells his love for
+     one whom he has found to be his ideal. The idea is not new, but
+     the opinion is ventured that nowhere has it been one-half so well
+     carried out. The ecstacy of hope, the apathy of despair, alternate
+     in these enchanting letters, without one line of cynicism to mar
+     the beauty of their effect."--_Rochester Herald_.
+
+
+G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
+New York      London
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+GOOD FICTION
+
+
+Patricia of the Hills
+
+  By CHARLES KENNETT BURROW.
+
+  12°. (By mail, $1.10.) _Net_      $1.00
+
+     "Patriotism without unreasonableness; love of the open air and the
+     free hills without exaggeration; romance without over-gush; humor
+     and melancholy side by side without morbidness; an Irish dialect
+     stopping short of excess; a story full of sincere feeling."--_The
+     Nation._
+
+     "No more charming romance of the old sod has been published in a
+     long time."--_N. Y. World._
+
+     "A very pretty Irish story."--_N. Y. Tribune._
+
+
+Eve Triumphant
+
+  By PIERRE DE COULEVAIN. Translated by ALYS HALLARD.
+
+  12°. (By mail, $1.35.) _Net_      $1.20
+
+     "Clever, stimulating, interesting, ... a brilliant mingling of
+     salient truth, candid opinion, and witty comment."--_Chicago
+     Record._
+
+     "An audacious and satirical tale which embodies a great deal of
+     clever and keen observation."--_Detroit Free Press_.
+
+     "An extremely clever work of fiction."--_Louisville
+     Courier-Journal._
+
+
+Monsieur Martin
+
+  A Romance of the Great Swedish War. By WYMOND CAREY.
+
+  12°. (By mail, $1.35.) _Net_      $1.20
+
+     "It was with genuine pleasure that we read 'M. Martin.' ... We
+     cordially admire it and sincerely hope that all who read this page
+     will also read the book."--From a Column Review in the _Syracuse
+     Herald_.
+
+     "Wymond Carey's name must be added to the list of authors whose
+     first books have given them a notable place in the world of
+     letters, for 'Monsieur Martin' is one of the best of recent
+     historical romances."--_Chicago Inter-Ocean._
+
+     "Mr. Wymond Carey has given us much pleasure in reading his book,
+     and we are glad to praise it."--_Baltimore Sun._
+
+
+New York--G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS--London
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+GOOD FICTION
+
+
+Lavender and Old Lace
+
+  By MYRTLE REED, author of "Love Letters of a Musician," "The Spinster
+  Book," etc.
+
+  12°. (By mail, $1.65)      net, $1.50
+  Full Crimson Morocco       net, $2.00
+
+     Miss Reed has carried her lively style and charming humor from
+     letters and essays into the field of fiction. This is the story of
+     a quaint corner of New England where more than one romance lies
+     hidden underneath the prim garb of a little village.
+
+
+The Earth and the Fullness Thereof
+
+  A Tale of Styria. By PETER ROSEGGER, author of "The Forest
+  Schoolmaster," "The God Seeker," etc. Authorized English Version
+  by FRANCES E. SKINNER.
+
+  12°      $1.50
+
+     There is, throughout, that same sweet recognition of the beautiful
+     in life, even where human existence is the most squalid, that gave
+     a wonderful quality to "The Forest Schoolmaster." And there is
+     a true pleasure in the story's happy conclusion that is born of
+     no playwriter's trick, but of a sense of the eternal justice of
+     things.
+
+
+Fame for a Woman
+
+  or, Splendid Mourning. By CRANSTOUN METCALFE. With Frontispiece by
+  ADOLF THIEDE.
+
+  12°. (By mail, $1.35)      net, $1.20
+
+     Madame de Staël wrote: "Fame is for women only a splendid
+     mourning for happiness"; Mr. Metcalfe tells us how a sweet
+     little woman, whose world is little bigger than her husband,
+     loses that perspective by contact with the superficially clever
+     young literary set in London. She is persuaded to write, and her
+     writing is attended with success, such as it is,--the sort of
+     success which means much figuring in "literary notes," interviews
+     describing the privacy of one's fireside, and preeminence among
+     so-called Bohemians.
+
+
+New York--G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS--London
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+GOOD FICTION
+
+
+Morchester
+
+  A Story of American Society, Politics, and Affairs. By CHARLES
+  DACHET.
+
+  12°. (By mail, $1.35.) _Net_, $1.20
+
+     "Though unknown to the readers of romance, Mr. Dachet here shows
+     himself to be a master of the craft of romance writing. The action
+     of his book takes place in an eastern city which may easily be
+     identified with Pittsburgh, and in several of the characters
+     of the story, local politicians of national reputation may be
+     recognized.... The story on every page shows power, reserve, and
+     a profound knowledge of the actualities of modern life, and no
+     little literary handling."--_Chicago Interior._
+
+
+The Romance of Leonardo da Vinci: The Forerunner
+
+  By DMITRI MEREJKOWSKI, author of "The Death of the Gods," etc.
+  Authorized translation from the Russian, edited by HERBERT TRENCH.
+
+  12°. (By mail, $1.65.) _Net_, $1.50
+
+     "Leonardo, who is presented as the hero of the story, is a figure
+     of great nobility.... A finer study of the artistic temperament at
+     its best could scarcely be found. And Leonardo is the centre of a
+     crowd of striking figures. It is impossible to speak too highly of
+     the dramatic power with which they are presented, both singly and
+     in combination.... The story as a whole is a very powerful piece
+     of work, standing higher above the level of contemporary fiction
+     than it would be easy to say."--_London Spectator._
+
+
+Typhoon
+
+  By JOSEPH CONRAD, author of "Lord Jim." 16°. (By mail, $1.10.)
+
+  _Net_, $1.00
+
+     "Its scenes are painted with a vividness that leaves us
+     breathless.... It is an extraordinarily artistic book.... Only a
+     man of genius could have written 'Typhoon.'"--_N. Y. Tribune._
+
+
+New York--G. P. PUTMAN'S SONS--London
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's note:
+
+Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as
+possible, including obsolete and variant spellings and other
+inconsistencies. Text that has been changed to correct an obvious
+error is noted below.
+
+Several occurrences of mismatched double quotes and missing periods
+in the original were silently corrected.
+
+A list of other books by Myrtle Reed found at the begining was moved
+to the back of the book, before the other advertisements.
+
+The transcriber made these changes to the text to correct obvious
+errors:
+
+  p.  42,  sil y --> silly
+  p.  96,  murmer --> murmur
+  p. 200,  beads of uncle --> beads off uncle
+  p. 252,  sleeeves --> sleeves
+  p. 265,  but I wont bathe --> but I won't bathe
+  p. 288,  marrry --> marry
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42894 ***