of the little colony in the
wilderness, Elizabeth Zane, the only sister, was living with an aunt
in Philadelphia, where she was being educated.

Colonel Zane's house, a two story structure built of rough hewn
logs, was the most comfortable one in the settlement, and occupied a
prominent site on the hillside about one hundred yards from the
fort. It was constructed of heavy timber and presented rather a
forbidding appearance with its square corners, its ominous looking
portholes, and strongly barred doors and windows. There were three
rooms on the ground floor, a kitchen, a magazine room for military
supplies, and a large room for general use. The several sleeping
rooms were on the second floor, which was reached by a steep
stairway.

The interior of a pioneer's rude dwelling did not reveal, as a rule,
more than bare walls, a bed or two, a table and a few chairs--in
fact, no more than the necessities of life. But Colonel Zane's house
proved an exception to this. Most interesting was the large room.
The chinks between the logs had been plastered up with clay and then
the walls covered with white birch bark; trophies of the chase,
Indian bows and arrows, pipes and tomahawks hung upon them; the wide
spreading antlers of a noble buck adorned the space above the mantel
piece; buffalo robes covered the couches; bearskin rugs lay
scattered about on the hardwood floor. The wall on the western side
had been built over a huge stone, into which had been cut an open
fireplace.

This blackened recess, which had seen two houses burned over it,
when full of blazing logs had cheered many noted men with its
warmth. Lord Dunmore, General Clark, Simon Kenton, and Daniel Boone
had sat beside that fire. There Cornplanter, the Seneca chief, had
made his famous deal with Colonel Zane, trading the island in the
river opposite the settlement for a barrel of whiskey. Logan, the
Mingo chief and friend of the whites, had smoked many pipes of peace
there with Colonel Zane. At a later period, when King Louis
Phillippe, who had been exiled from France by Napoleon, had come to
America, during the course of his melancholy wanderings he had
stopped at Fort Henry a few days. His stay there was marked by a
fierce blizzard and the royal guest passed most of his time at
Colonel Zane's fireside. Musing by those roaring logs perhaps he saw
the radiant star of the Man of Destiny rise to its magnificent
zenith.

One cold, raw night in early spring the Col