“A woman gave me the key to this book.  Her name is written inside the lid.  I was to read it if it ever fell into my hands, after a number of years.  Somebody has stolen it, and carried it among the Indians.  But it’s mine.  Every shilling in my wallet, the clothes off my back you’re welcome to—­”

“I don’t want your money or your clothes.”

“But let me give you something in exchange for it.”

“What do I need?  I always have as much as I want.  This is a serviceable coat, as good as any man need wish for; and the ravens feed me.  And if I needed anything, could I take it for carrying a message?  I carry good tidings of great joy among the people all the time.  This is yours.  Put it in your pocket.”

I hid the padlocked book in the breast of my coat, and seized his wrist and his hand.

“Be of good courage, white double-man,” said Johnny Appleseed.  “The Lord lift up the light of His countenance upon you, the Lord make His face to shine upon you and give you peace!”

He returned to his side of the fire and stretched himself under the stars, and I went to Croghan’s quarters and lay down with my clothes on in the bunk assigned to me.

The book which I would have rent open at twenty, I now carried unsealed.  The suspense of it was so sweet, and drew my thoughts from the other suspense which could not be endured.  It was not likely that any person about Mont-Louis had stolen the book, and wandered so far.  Small as the volume was, the boards indented my breast and made me increasingly conscious of its presence.  I waked in the night and held it.

Next morning Johnny Appleseed was gone from the fort, unafraid of war, bent only on carrying the apple of civilization into the wilderness.  Nobody spoke about his absence, for shells began to fall around us.  The British and Indians were in sight; and General Proctor sent a flag of truce demanding surrender.

Major Croghan’s ensign approached the messenger with a flag in reply.

The women gathered their children as chickens under shelter.  All in the fort were cheerful, and the men joked with the gush of humor which danger starts in Americans.  I saw then the ready laugh that faced in its season what was called Indian summer, because the Indian took then advantage of the last pleasant weather to make raids.  Such pioneers could speak lightly even of powwowing time—­the first pleasant February days, when savages held councils before descending on the settlements.

Major Croghan and I watched the parley from one of the blockhouses that bastioned the place.  Before it ended a Shawanoe sprang out of a ravine and snatched the ensign’s sword.  He gave it back reluctantly, and the British flag bearer hurried the American within the gates.

General Proctor regretted that so fine a young man as Major Croghan should fall into the hands of savages, who were not to be restrained.