Fort Schlosser, from which place
the flotilla had departed six days before his own arrival.

Six days! It was a long lead to overcome, and everything he dreaded
might happen in that time. Still, he did not anticipate that the
convoy would run into danger before it neared Detroit, which place it
was not expected to reach in less than two weeks. If, therefore, he
could overtake it within one week, or before it entered the Detroit
river, all might yet be well. Having reached this conclusion, the
young officer bustled about with such energy, that he had the
satisfaction of getting his own party started from Fort Schlosser late
that same afternoon, instead of waiting until the following morning, as
had been at first planned.

Once under way, the active young fellow seized a paddle, and so aided
the progress of the big canoe by his own efforts that ere darkness set
in the river had been stemmed to its source, and the broad expanse of
Lake Erie lay before them, still glimmering in the western glow. Not
until they were well beyond the influence of the strong current setting
toward the river, would he permit a landing to be made.

Donald had been perplexed from the start to find that there were five
Indians in the canoe, instead of the four promised by Major Wilkins.
He was also amazed to discover that none of them could speak English,
for they all shook their heads with expressionless faces when he
addressed them in that tongue. By using signs and the few Iroquois
words that he could remember, he managed to make known his wishes; but,
although these were obeyed, he imagined there was some mystery in the
air, and became keenly watchful for its development.

From the very first he was suspicious of the fifth, or extra member, of
the crew, who occupied the extreme stern of the canoe and acted as
steersman. None of the Indians were very pleasant to look upon; but
the face of this individual was so thickly covered with paint of many
colors that its personality was concealed, as though by a mask. This
paint being laid on in narrow stripes, Mr. Bullen was moved to call him
the "Zebra," a name that seemed to please the fellow, and to which he
readily answered.

That night the white men slept beneath the canoe, which was turned half
over, with its upper gunwale resting on a couple of short, but stout,
forked sticks; and, acting upon Donald's insistent advice, they kept
watch by turn, two hours at a time, during the night.