roit, to bid you
welcome, and to ask you and your fellow chiefs to meet him within the
walls. My brother officers and I are to be your escort of honor, and we
are proud of such a service."

Henry saw at once that Caldwell was a man of abundant experience with
the Indians. He knew their intense pride, and he was going to see that
Timmendiquas and the other chiefs were received in a manner befitting
their station among their own people.

"It is well," said Timmendiquas. "We will go with you and Ware will go
with us."

"Who is Ware?" asked Caldwell, as Henry stood up. At the same time the
Englishman's eyes expressed admiration. The height and splendid figure
of the youth impressed him.

"Ware, though young, is the greatest of all the white warriors," replied
Timmendiquas. "He is my prisoner and I keep him with me until Manitou
tells me what I shall do with him."

His tone was final. Caldwell was a clever man, skilled in forest
diplomacy. He saw that nothing was to be gained, and that much might be
lost by opposing the will of Timmendiquas.

"Of course he comes with you if you wish it, White Lightning," he said.
"Now may we go? Colonel de Peyster awaits us to do you honor."

Timmendiquas inclined his head and he, with nine other chiefs, including
Yellow Panther and Red Eagle, and with Henry in the center, started
toward the fort. The British officers went with Colonel Caldwell,
marching by the side of Timmendiquas. They approached the western gate,
and, when they were within a few yards of it, a soldier on top of the
palisade began to play a military air on a bugle. It was an inspiring
tune, mellow and sweet in the clear spring air, and Caldwell looked up
proudly. The chiefs said not a word, but Henry knew that they were
pleased. Then the great gate was thrown open and they passed between two
files of soldiers, who held their rifles at attention. The music of the
bugle ceased, the great gate closed behind them, and the Indians and
their escort marched on towards an open square, where a corps of honor,
with the commander himself at their head, was drawn up to receive them.

Henry's gaze turned at once towards the commander, whose name filled him
with horror and detestation. Arent Schuyler de Peyster had succeeded to
Hamilton, the "hair buyer," captured by George Rogers Clark and sent in
chains to Virginia. He had shown great activity in arming and inciting
the Indians against the settlers in Kentucky, and Henry hate