The commanding officer, Major Clark, sent to him one day to inquire if he wanted anything for his comfort.

“If the Major pleased,” he replied, “he should like to have a light and a copy of Byron’s Works.”

Some fears were entertained that he would contrive to make way with himself before the day of execution, and, to guard against it, he was deprived of everything that could furnish him a weapon.  His food was served to him in a wooden bowl, lest a bit of broken crockery might he used as a means of self destruction.

One morning he sent a little package to the commanding officer as a present.  It contained a strong rope, fabricated from strips of his blanket, that he had carefully separated, and with a large stout spike at the end of it.  The message accompanying it was, “He wished Major Clark to see that if he chose to put an end to himself, he could find means to do it in spite of him.”

And this hardened frame of mind continued to the last.  When he was led out for execution, in passing beyond the gate, he observed a quantity of lumber recently collected for the construction of a new Company’s warehouse.

“Ah, captain, what are you going to build here?” inquired he of Captain Scott, who attended him.

“Doyle,” replied his captain, “you have but a few moments to live—–­ you had better employ your thoughts about something else.”

“It is for that very reason, captain,” said he, “that I am inquiring—­as my time is short, I wish to gain all the information I can while it lasts.”

* * * * *

We were not suffered to remain long in suspense in regard to the friends we had left behind.  In less than two weeks Old Smoker again made his appearance.  He was the bearer of letters from my husband, informing me that General Dodge was then with him at Port Winnebago, that Generals Henry and Alexander were likewise at the Fort, and that as soon as they had recruited their men and horses, which were pretty well worn out with scouring the country after Black Hawk, they would march again in pursuit of him towards the head-waters of the Rock River, where they had every reason, from information lately brought in by the Winnebagoes, to believe he would be found.

As he charged us to lay aside all uneasiness on his account, and moreover held forth the hope of soon coming or sending for us, our minds became more tranquil.

Not long after this, I was told one morning that “a lady” wished to see me at the front door.  I obeyed the summons, and, to my surprise, was greeted by my friend Madame Four-Legs. After much demonstration of joy at seeing me, such as putting her two hands together over her forehead and then parting them in a waving kind of gesture, laughing, and patting me on my arms, she drew from her bosom a letter from my husband, of which she was the bearer.  It was to this effect—­“Generals Dodge and