the forest was breaking. the arcades of spell-bound woods that for three days had hemmed the road were losing their continuity, giving place to glades choked with underbrush and dappled with sunbeams. the chill of the swamp land was vanishing and the landscape was momently sweetening with the fragrance of annis grass and of fern. now and again golden-green branches showed against a blue, cloud-flecked sky.
jack and alagwa, the latter mounted on cato’s horse, were riding behind the wagon, chatting together and looking forward, not altogether eagerly, to the change in surroundings which they knew must be at hand.
the strain of the first night had for the moment exhausted the girl’s capacity to hate. she had touched a high point and had sunk back. when she saw that jack and cato were awake, reaction had overcome her and she had sunk back on her couch in the wagon, mind and heart both blank. when, later, she had forced herself to crawl from the wagon to join the others in a hasty breakfast, she had done so listlessly and silently. still later, though she had gathered strength and vigor with the mounting day, she had found herself incapable of thinking of[130] either the past or the future. like any other wild creature that had been driven beyond its strength, she could do nothing but exist. when the thought of the future and of her mission rose in her mind she deliberately forced it back. she had refused to countenance an attack upon the wagon when it was at her mercy; never again would she connive at its destruction. she had taken early occasion to warn cato that his dereliction from duty had not passed unobserved, and she had won his eternal gratitude, to say nothing of his vows never to sleep on watch again, by promising not to tell jack. apart from this, then, was nothing for her to do until she reached fort wayne. until then she could live only for the moment.
for the moment also she had laid aside her distrust of jack. his heart might be bad, but his words were pleasant, and she would enjoy them while she could.
swiftly the hours sped by. her wound was healing fast and gave her little trouble. after the first day she found herself able to ride a little, and on the last day she remained almost continuously in the saddle, jack by her side, talking the hours away.
infinite was her ignorance of the life which jack and his people led far away to the south and great was her curiosity concerning it. she told herself that it was merely the strangeness of the life that roused her interest. for her it could have no[131] personal interest. that she could ever dwell with the enemies of her people was unthinkable. but—well, it was pleasant to hear of so many things that had been far beyond her ken. jack, on the other hand, found unexpected delight in enlightening the virgin field of her mind. again and again he laughed at her ignorance, but his laughter was not of the kind that hurts. long before the third day had begun, jack had decided that this indian-bred boy was the most interesting he had ever known, and alagwa had unconsciously decided that jack was very different from the others of his race. “if all white men were like him,” she thought, “there would be no enmity between his people and mine.” the bond of sympathy between the two was growing very strong.
“we’ll be at fort wayne soon, bob, i guess,” jack was saying, as they neared the edge of the forest. “i reckon it’s mean for me to wish it, but i do hope we won’t find your friends there. i didn’t know how much i needed a jolly little chum.”
alagwa caught her breath. almost she had forgotten fort wayne. grimly her forgotten mission rose before her. when she reached the fort—hastily she shook her head. “the white chief will find no friends of mine,” she declared, soberly. “i have no friends.”
“oh! you must have friends somewhere, you know, and i’ve got to try to find them. i must do my best[132] to let them know you’re alive. you may have a father and mother, still grieving for you. but if i can’t find them——”
“and if you can not find them?” the girl was talking desperately, saying anything to prevent herself from thinking of what awaited her.
“then i reckon i’ll have to take you back to alabama with me when i go—though the lord knows when that’ll be. you’ll love alabama, though it’s mighty different from this ohio country. alabama is shawnee—no, it’s creek—for ‘here-we-rest!’ the creeks called it that because it is so pleasant. you’ll come with me, won’t you, bob?”
“i?” alagwa drew herself up. for the moment she was once more the shawnee maiden. “am i a dog to live among those who hate me?”
“hate you!” jack stared. “good lord! what are you talking about? why! dad would go crazy over you. he’s the best old dad that ever lived. cato’s already deserted me for you. he’s your sworn slave. he thinks you’re the spirit and image of the telfair family. by the way, he told me yesterday that you sure did have the telfair nose. you may not think that’s a compliment, but cato meant it for one. as for the neighbors——”
jack stopped short. he had just remembered that for several days he had failed to grieve over sally habersham and that he had quite forgotten[133] that his life was blighted. an expression of gloom came over his features.
alagwa noticed it, but she said nothing. she had been taught not to force her chatter on a warrior, and her experience with white men had been too brief to change the ingrained custom of years. besides, she was startled by cato’s remark. woman-like, she had already discovered the strong family likeness she bore to jack; and it had pleased rather than troubled her. but cato’s perception of it made her anxious. if he noticed it, others might do so and might grow suspicious; her identity might be detected, and if it was, her mission would fail.
before jack could notice her abstraction the break in the forest came. the trees stopped short, leaning westward as if dragged toward the sunset by some mighty impulse, only to be held back by one yet mightier. to north and to south the line of the forest ran interminably away, till it blended with the long grasses that swelled to meet it.
in front stretched the prairie, mile after mile of billowing green, flower-studded, cobweb-sheeted, ablaze with the painted wings of butterflies. over it the breeze blew softly, laden with whispers, heavy with the scent of sun-dried grass.
with a gasp both jack and alagwa reined in. then with wild whoops of delight they shook their reins and drove their heels into their horses’ sides[134] and darted forward, out from behind the wagon, over the fresh springy turf.
as they passed, williams, seated by cato on the box, leaned forward and hailed them. “we’re near fort wayne,” he called. “an’ there’s white men there—none of your d—d indian lovers. we’ll see what they’ve got to say about your high-handed ways. and”—venomously—“we’ll see what they’ve got to say about that half-breed boy, too.”
jack did not answer. he scarcely heard. all his thoughts were on the mighty plain that stretched before him. to him, as to alagwa, the prairie was a revelation. all her life the girl had lived amid forests; all her life her view had been circumscribed by the boles of massive trees. never had she dreamed of the vast sweep of the grassy plains. jack’s experience was wider, but even he had never seen the prairies. like two children they shouted from very rapture. along the flat they raced, intoxicated with the whistle of the wind, the smell of the grass, and the thunderous drumming of their horses’ hoofs. mile after mile they galloped, fronting the sunset, fleeing before their own enormously lengthening shadows. when at last they dragged their steeds to a walk, jack had quite forgotten his gloomy pose and was talking and laughing as excitedly as if he were still the schoolboy he had been so short a time before.
[135]then suddenly he reined in and rose in his stirrups. the road, curving to the north around a great grassy swell, had come out upon a level at the far edge of which rose a great quadrilateral, with frowning blockhouses at its alternate corners. under its protecting walls smaller buildings showed where the pioneers of a dauntless race were laying deep the foundations of a mighty state.
smilingly he turned to alagwa. “there’s our destination! we’ll stay there tonight and tomorrow i’ll start back. you’ll be too tired to go, of course.”
startled, the girl looked up. but her face cleared as she saw that jack was smiling and guessed that he was mocking her.
rapidly the quadrilateral swelled out of the plain. a great gate, midway of its southern side, stood invitingly open and toward this the travellers directed their way. a sentry stared at them curiously as they passed in but did not challenge or stop them.
just inside the gate jack reined in, looking for a moment at the unfamiliar scene. on the parade ground that occupied the square interior of the fort a company of forty soldiers was drilling under command of a heavy man, rotund and stout. at the left, in the shade of the walls, stood a group of men and boys, some of them white but most of them indian.
some one called out and the members of the group[136] turned from watching the drill and stared at the newcomers. the captain of the company, too, was plainly curious, for he turned his men over to a sub-officer and crossed to join the rest. he bore himself with an air of authority that bespoke him the commander of the fort.
jack rode up to him and reined in, sweeping off his hat with a boyish flourish. “good evening, sir!” he cried. “have i the honor of addressing captain rhea?”
the officer shook his head. his face was flushed and the veins on his forehead were swollen. obviously he had been drinking heavily. “captain rhea is ill,” he grunted. “i’m lieutenant hibbs, in command. who are you?”
jack hesitated. he had not expected to find a drunken man in charge of so important a post as fort wayne. heavy drinking was not rare in those days; rum was on every man’s table and “brown betty” was drunk almost as freely by both sexes and all ages as coffee is today. the code of the day, however, condemned men in responsible positions for drinking more than they could carry decently.
as jack hesitated the officer grew angry. his flushed face grew redder. “speak up!” he growled. “who are you and what do you want?”
jack could hesitate no longer. lightly he leaped from his saddle, looping the bridle over his arm and[137] came forward. “i’m glad to meet you, mr. hibbs,” he said. “i am mr. telfair, of alabama, up here on personal business. i turned aside at girty’s town to escort a wagon-load of ammunition that general hull had sent you——”
“ammunition!” the officer’s manner changed. he drew his breath with a long sobbing gasp. “ammunition. we need it bad enough. thank god you’ve come. general hull sent you with it?”
“not exactly. he sent it by two wagoners, but one of them”—jack dropped his voice—“murdered an indian and i had to arrest him and take charge of the wagon. i——”
“murdered an indian! arrest him! good god!” mr. hibbs was staring at the wagon, which was just appearing through the gates. “who’s that?” he demanded. “damnation! it’s williams! you don’t mean you’ve arrested williams!” he threw up his hand. “hey! williams!” he shouted. “come here!”
williams jumped from the box and came forward.
jack did not wait. “i had to arrest him,” he declared. “i’ll be only too glad to explain all the circumstances if i can see you privately.” he cast a glance around the listening throng. “it seems hardly wise to speak too freely here——” he stopped, for mr. hibbs had brushed by him and had gone forward to meet the wagoner.
[138]“hello! williams!” he hiccoughed. “you back? where’s wolf?”
the company that had been drilling had been dismissed and the men came running up. plainly they were anxious to learn what news the newcomers might have brought. most of them waved their hands to williams as they drew near, though they did not venture to break in on his talk with their officer.
williams paid little attention to them. he was choking with anger. “wolf’s dead,” he rasped. “killed by a dog of a shawnee. i guess you’d better ask that young squirt about it.” he jerked his head toward jack. “he’s running this expedition.”
mr. hibbs’s brow darkened. he glanced at jack doubtfully. “did general hull put him in charge of the ammunition?” he asked.
“ammunition? what ammunition?” williams snarled scornfully.
“the ammunition you brought, of course.”
“i ain’t brought no ammunition. those durned injun agents are always fussing about honest traders, and i got by colonel johnson’s deputy at piqua by saying that i had ammunition. but i ain’t got a bit. i ain’t got nothing but whiskey and trade goods. this young know-it-all, he hears what i says to the agent, and he takes it on himself to escort the ammunition and i lets him do it.”
[139]a roar of laughter went up from the crowd. aristocrats were not popular on the frontier and jack was plainly an aristocrat. besides, williams was a friend and the crowd was very willing to follow his lead.
jack flushed hotly as he realized how completely he had been humbugged. he tried to speak, but his voice was drowned by jeers.
mr. hibbs, however, neither laughed nor jeered. the failure to get ammunition seemed to strike him hard. furiously he swung round on jack.
but before he could speak williams thrust in. “i got those things you wanted, lieutenant,” he said. “but he’s taken charge of ’em.” he jerked his thumb toward jack. “maybe he’ll give ’em to you if you go down on your knees and ask for ’em pretty.”
mr. hibbs found his voice. “what the devil does this mean?” he demanded. “you, sir, i mean.” he glared at jack. “i’m talking to you. what have you got to do with this thing, anyway?”
jack refused to be stampeded. he was horribly abashed by the fiasco of the ammunition, and he saw that no explanation that he could make was likely to be well received. “i’d rather wait and go into things privately, lieutenant,” he demurred.
“privately! h—l! you go ahead and be d— quick about it!”
before jack could speak a tall, thin man, who[140] had been watching the scene with growing disgust, stepped forward hurriedly. “i think the young man is right, mr. hibbs,” he said. “it seems to me that it would be much better to talk in private.” he turned to jack. “i am major stickney, the indian agent here, mr. telfair,” he said.
mr. hibbs gave him no time to say more. furiously he turned upon him. “it seems best to you, does it,” he yelled. “yes, i reckon it is just the sort of thing that would seem best to a greenhorn like you. but you might as well understand here and now, that i’m in command here and that you nor anybody else can tell me what to do.” he turned to jack. “go on,” he roared.
further objection was evidently useless. jack spoke out. “i charge this man,” he said, pointing to williams, “with the deliberate and uncalled-for murder of a friendly shawnee chief, at the moment that he was making the peace sign. this man shot him down without any provocation and without any warning. after he had shot him the indian sprang at him and at his companion, a man named wolf, tore wolf’s gun from him, and brained him with it. then he sprang at williams, who struck him down with his hatchet and then scalped him.”
“good! good! bully for you, williams.” a roar of applause rose from the soldiers. mr. hibbs did not check it.
jack hurried on. “you understand, sir,” he[141] said, “what terrible consequences this might have led to at this particular time. tecumseh has already led several hundred shawnees north to join the british, and the murder of a friendly chief, if it had become known in its true aspect, might have roused the remainder of the tribe and turned ten thousand warriors against the white settlements. i did the only thing i could to prevent it. i placed this man under arrest and took him to girty’s town, where i hoped to turn him over to colonel johnson. colonel johnson was not there, however, and so i gave out that the indian had been killed by wolf in a personal quarrel. i left a note for colonel johnson explaining the true circumstances of the case. then, knowing your urgent need for ammunition and thinking this wagon was loaded with it, i came on here as quickly as i could, bringing this man as a prisoner to be dealt with as you might think fit.”
mr. hibbs was rocking on his feet. scarcely did he wait for jack to finish. “shot an injun, did he?” he burst out. “well, it’s a d— good thing. i wish he’d shot a dozen of the scurvy brutes. and you’re complaining of him, are you? how about yourself? what were you doing while the fight was going on?” he swung round on williams. “what was he doing, williams?” he asked.
the wagoner laughed scornfully. “he warn’t doing nothing,” he sneered. “he sat on his horse[142] and watched the injun kill wolf without raisin’ a hand to stop him. but he was mighty forward in stopping me when i started to wipe out that half-breed boy yonder.”
a snarl rose from the crowding men. but the reference to alagwa served momentarily to divert their attention.
“that boy was with the injun,” went on williams; “and he come at wolf with a knife. wolf shot him through the leg and he fell, and after i’d done for the injun i started after the cub. but this here sprig run me down with his horse an’ took my gun away before i could get up.”
again the crowd snarled. “duck him! flog him! hang him!” it cried. the calls were low and tentative, but they were gaining volume.
mr. hibbs made no effort to check them or to keep his men in hand. rather he urged them on. “well! sir!” he demanded, truculently. “what have you got to say?”
jack’s lips whitened. he was little more than a lad, and the incredible attitude of this officer of the united states army, from whom he had the right to expect support, confounded him. he had yet to learn, as the country had yet to learn, that the united states army was then officered by many men who had gotten their positions by political influence and were totally unfitted for their work—men who[143] were to bring disgrace and dishonor on the american flag.
doggedly, jack tried to protest. “the boy is white, lieutenant,” he interrupted. “you’ve only to look at him to see that. for the rest, this man is perverting the facts. he committed a wanton murder, and if it makes the indians rise——”
“let ’em rise and be d—d! who cares whether they rise or not?” mr. hibbs hesitated a moment and then went on. “we’ve just got news from general hull. he’s crossed into canada and scattered the redcoats and the red devils. we’ll have all canada in a month. and if any of the injuns anywhere try to make trouble we’ll shoot ’em. and if any white-livered curs from the east try to make trouble we’ll shoot them, too. wolf was a d— sight better man than you’ll ever be.”
jack threw his head back and his jaw stiffened. the insults that had been heaped upon him made his blood boil. but he remembered that mr. hibbs was an officer in the army of his country and, as such, entitled to respect.
“sir!” he said, almost gently. “i will not enter into comparisons or arguments. i have done what i thought was my duty. i am an american citizen and it is surely my duty, as it is yours, sir, to try to prevent friends from turning into foes——”
“my duty!” mr. hibbs broke in with a roar. “you’ll teach me my duty, will you? by god![144] we’ll see.” he swung round. “officer of the guard!” he trumpeted.
“sir!” an officer stepped forward.
“call two men and take this young cub to the calaboose and flog him well. we’ll teach him to meddle in matters that don’t concern him.”
flogging was common in those days. privates in the army were flogged for all sorts of misdeeds.
the crowd surged forward. beyond question its sympathies were with hibbs and against jack. the note of savagery in its snarl would have frightened most men.
it did not frighten jack. his blue eyes gleamed with an anger that did not blaze—a frosty anger that froze those on whom it fell.
“just a moment,” he cried. “the first man that lays hand on me dies.”
the crowd hesitated, clutching at pistols and knives. the moment was freighted with death.
then, abruptly, some one pushed a rifle—williams’s rifle—into jack’s hands and he heard alagwa’s voice in his ear. “white chief kill!” she gritted. “sing death song. i die with him.”
on the other side cato pressed forward. “i’se here, mars’ jack,” he quavered. “cato’s here.”
