A CONFERENCE AND A RESOLVE

T TO my mind, the risk would be extreme; and I greatly doubt the wisdom of the step."

"But, William, what other alternative offers us any hope?"

"I confess I know not, for your last mistake has greatly aggravated the situation."

I sat up hastily, for seemingly these words were spoken at the very side of the bunk on which I lay. As I glanced about me I saw the room was vacant; so I knew the conference thus accidentally overheard must be taking place in an adjoining apartment. I was thoroughly awake when Captain Heald's voice spoke again.

"You say a mistake,—what mistake?" he questioned, as though aggrieved. "I have done no more than simply obey the orders of my superior officer."

"That may be true," broke in the gentler tones of Lieutenant Helm, "but of that we are unable to judge, for not one of your officers has been privileged to see those orders."

"You shall see them now. If I have been remiss in taking you into my confidence in these grave matters, it has been because of certain malcontents in the garrison with whom I hesitated to confer."

There was a rustle of paper, and Heald read slowly. I failed to distinguish the opening words, but as he reached the more important portion of the document his utterance grew deeper, and I heard distinctly this sentence:

There was a pause as he concluded. Captain Wells spoke first.

"To my mind, these orders are not positive, and leave much to your discretion. Who brought the message, and when?"

"A Wyandot named Winnemeg. He reached here on the ninth."

"I have heard the name, and believe him worthy of confidence. Did you advise with him?"

"Ay! Though he had no oral message from General Hull, he counselled immediate evacuation. I also felt such action to be wise; but things were in such condition within the Fort,—so large a number of helpless women and children to be provided for, and so heavy a proportion of the garrison on the sick-list,—that I found it impossible to act promptly. The Indians gathered so rapidly without, and assumed so hostile a manner, that I thought it suicidal to attempt a march through the wilderness, encumbered as we should be, without some positive understanding with their chiefs."

"I can easily comprehend all this, and that you have sought to act for the best," was Wells's comment; "but I fail to realize how you hoped to appease those same Indians by the wanton destruction last night of the liquor thrown into the river. It was done in direct opposition to the orders you have just read, and is bound to increase the hatred of the savages. You may be sure they are not ignorant of the contents of your despatch, and must resent the destruction of property they consider their own."

"'Twas done upon the advice of two of their leading chiefs."

"Indeed! Which two?"

"Topenebe and Little Sauk."

"The two biggest devils in that whole Pottawattomie camp, and the head and front of their war-party! Their purpose is clear enough to my mind, and seamed with treachery. Well, Heald, from my knowledge of Indian nature I must say that whoever goes forth now to confer with yonder redskins has a desperate mission; but if you are still determined upon such a conference, I will take my chances with you. 'Tis given unto man but once to die."

"No, William," replied Captain Heald, with more firmness. "It is your part to remain here in protection of your niece, my wife; and if my own officers refuse to volunteer in this service, I shall go forth alone to meet the chiefs. It is my duty as commandant."

"Two of your officers are here," said Wells, "and they can probably answer for themselves. Ensign Ronan is not present."

"He is acting as officer of the day," returned Heald, somewhat stiffly, "and is therefore not eligible for such service. Perhaps one of the officers here present possesses courage enough for the venture?"

Apparently neither cared to express himself, after such an insinuation. At last one, whose voice I recognized as that of Surgeon Van Voorhis, gave utterance to his refusal.

"As the only medical officer of the garrison, I feel justified in declining to go upon so desperate an expedition," he said gravely. "It would expose not only my own life to unnecessary peril, but the lives of many others as well."

"And what say you, Lieutenant Helm? Have you also personal scruples?"

I could detect a tremor in the younger officer's voice, as he answered promptly.

"Captain Heald has before this seen me in time of danger," he said quietly, "and can have no reason for ascribing cowardice to me. But I will frankly say this, sir, and with all respect to my commanding officer, I believe such conference as now proposed with the hostile Indians yonder, at this late day, to be perfectly useless, and that every hour's delay since the receipt of orders to evacuate the post has only tended to increase our danger and lessen our hope of escape. I feel now that our only chance of safety lies in defending this stockade against attack until a rescue party from the East can reach us. I have a young wife among the women of this garrison; to her I owe allegiance, as well as to the flag I serve. Feeling as I do, Captain Heald, as a soldier I will obey any command you give, and will go forth upon this mission if ordered to do so, either in your company or alone; but I cannot volunteer for such service. I believe it to be foolhardy, and that whoever undertakes it goes forth to almost certain death."

"Then I shall go alone," said Heald, sternly; "nor do I look forward to any such disastrous ending to so open a mission of peace."

"Wait," broke in Wells, impulsively. "I have a final suggestion to make, if you are resolved to go. There rode in my party hither a rattle-brained gallant, bearing a French commission, who ought to prove sufficiently reckless to lend you his companionship. Faith! but I think it may well suit the fellow. Be sides, if he wore his French uniform it might have weight with the reds."

"Who is he?" asked Heald, doubtfully. "I seem not to have memory of him."

"He calls himself Captain Villiers de Croix, and holds commission in the Emperor's Guard."

Scarcely were the words spoken when I was on my feet, all vestige of sleep gone from my eyes. De Croix was hardly a friend of mine, since late developments, but he had been my comrade for many a league of hard forest travel, and I was unwilling to have him carelessly sacrificed in a venture regarding the danger of which he knew nothing. Besides, I counted on his sword to aid in the defence of Mademoiselle. I understood thoroughly the desperate chances of Indian treachery that lay before such a commission as was now proposed. It was rash in the extreme; and only the terrors of our position could sanction such an experiment. The savages that hemmed us in were already in an ugly mood, and fully conscious of their power. To go forth to them, unarmed and uninvited, as Captain Heald coolly proposed doing, was to walk open-eyed into a trap which treachery might snap shut at any time. It was not my purpose to halt De Croix, nor to stand between him and any adventure he might choose to undertake; but I could at least warn him, in a friendly spirit, of the imminent danger such a thing involved.

With this thought in mind, I ran hastily across the open parade into the officers' mess-hall, hoping I might find him loitering there. To my hasty glance, the place appeared deserted; and I drew back, wondering where to turn next in search. As I hesitated on the threshold, the low voice of Mademoiselle fell upon my ear; and at that moment she emerged from behind the curtain which divided the officers' quarters.

"May I hope you are seeking me?" she asked, graciously; "for it has been most lonely here all day, even Captain de Croix seems to have forgotten my existence."

"It was De Croix I sought," I answered, somewhat nettled by her prompt reference to him; "and doubtless you are well able to give me trace of him."

She studied me keenly, marking an angry note in my voice that I sought vainly to disguise.

"Forever a quarrel?" she said, regretfully. "Do you know, Master Wayland, I had thought better of you. Surely it is not your nature to be a brawler, and always seeking opportunity to show the strong hand! What has Captain de Croix done now to make you seek him so vengefully?"

"'Tis not in quarrel," I explained,—I fear with ill grace, for her words in his defence were little inclined to mollify me. "You may indeed have so poor conception of me as to misinterpret my coming; yet in truth I seek De Croix in friendship, hoping that I may by a chance word serve him."

"Indeed! what danger threatens, that he needs to be warned against?"

I hesitated; for, now that my blood had somewhat cooled, my mission seemed a bit foolish.

"I insist upon knowing," she continued haughtily, her eyes full upon mine, "or I shall believe you sought him for hostile purpose, and would deceive me by fair words."

"Mademoiselle," I answered gravely, "you do me wrong. Only a few moments ago I chanced to overhear a discussion, by the officers of this Fort, regarding a commission to go forth and hold council with the Indians. Captain Heald is determined upon such a course; but none will volunteer to accompany him, because of the grave danger of savage treachery. The Frenchman's name was mentioned as one reckless enough to join with such a party; and I sought to warn him ere he accepted blindly. He is hardly a friend of mine,—yet it seems no more than fair that he should know the full measure of his peril before saying 'yes.'"

She came impulsively forward, with quickly extended hand, her face aglow.

"You are indeed a true heart, John Wayland, and have shamed me rightly. I know well the deceit and treachery of Indian nature, and can understand the peril such a party would run. Promise me that you will prevent Captain de Croix from becoming one of them."

"I?" I exclaimed in perplexed surprise; "I can do no more than warn him."

"But you must do more!" she cried imperatively. "He will surely go if asked. A warning such as you propose would only stir his blood. I beg you to use your wits a little, so that he may know nothing of it."

I looked at her, deeply hurt by the interest so openly displayed.

"You are wondrously aroused for the Frenchman's safety, Mademoiselle!"

"Yes, though not as you may fancy. Captain de Croix came here for my sake, even though no word of mine gave him reason for doing so. For this reason I could never forgive myself if harm befell him on such a journey. 'Twould be as if I had lured him to his death. So 'tis for my sake, not his, that I ask the favor."

I leaned against the log wall and thought quickly, her anxious eyes never leaving my face. There came into my mind a conviction that the girl really loved him; and this made the struggle harder for me to serve him. Nor did I see clearly how it could well be done, save through a sacrifice of myself, such as I had never intended.

"Surely," she urged, "your wits will conceive some way in which it may be done?"

"Yes," I answered, eager now to hide my own feeling from her; "'tis not hopeless. You desire that he be kept within the Fort, ignorant of this commission?"

"I do; 'tis the only way."

"Very well, it shall be done, Mademoiselle. No, I need no thanks from you. Only do this simple thing, which, I am sure, you will find no hardship,—keep Captain de Croix from any possible contact with others for an hour. Your eyes will prove sufficient, no doubt, to enchain him that long; if not, use other measures."

"But what will you do?"

"That does not count. 'Tis the result, not the means, that must content you. I have my plan, and it will work; but I cannot stay here longer to discuss it. Only do your part well, and I pledge you the safety of De Croix."

I left her standing there, the light of questioning still in her eyes; but I wished mainly to be safely away, where I might hide my own sudden heart-ache in the energy of action.