cout. Captain Wells will march in
front with his Miamis, upon whose assistance--the Miamis', I mean--I
do not greatly count. They are cowards. They fear the 'canoe men.'
Well, what do you say, my son?"

Gaspar caught his breath. His own fear of an Indian had been nearly
overcome by the friendship of those chiefs who were so constantly at
the Fort; but the night before had brought him a recurrence of the
terrifying visions which were as much memories as dreams. After such a
night he was scarcely himself in courage, greatly as he desired to
please the captain. Then he reflected how high was the honor designed
him. He, a little boy, just past ten and going on eleven for a whole
fortnight now, and--of course he'd do it!

"Well, I'll ride him. That is, I'll try. Like as not, he'll shake me
off first try."

"Make the second try, then. You know the copy in your writing-book?"

"Yes, sir. I wrote the whole page of it, yesterday, and the chaplain
said it was well done. Shall I get him now? Are you almost ready?"

The commandant looked at the waiting wagons, the assembled company,
the women and little ones who were so dear and in such a perilous
case. For a moment his heart sank, stout soldier though he was, and it
was no detriment to his manhood that a fervent if silent prayer
escaped him.

"Yes, fetch him if you can. If not, I'll come."

Tempest was a gelding of fine Kentucky breed. There were others of his
line at the garrison, and upon them some of the women even were to
ride. But Tempest was the king of the stables. He was the master's
half-broken pet and recreation. For sterner uses, as for that
morning's work, there was a better trained animal, and on this the
commandant would make his own journey.

A smile curled the officer's lips despite his anxiety as, presently,
out from the stables galloped a bareheaded lad, clinging desperately
to Tempest's back, who tried as desperately to shake off his unusual
burden. But the saddle girth was well secured, and the rider clung
like a burr. His bow was slung crosswise before him and his full
quiver hung at his back.

A cheer went up. The sight was as helpful to the soldiers as it was
amusing, and they fell into line with a ready step as the band struck
up--what was that tune? _The Dead March?_ By whose ill-judgment this?

Well, there was no time to question. Any music helps to keep a line of
men in step, and there was the determined Gaspar cavorting and
wheeling before