spirits, so oppressed were we by imaginings of evil.  I remember telling her my simple story, gaining in return brief glimpses of her experiences in Canada and the farther West.  She even informed me that orders had been received, the day before she became lost upon the lake, to abandon Fort Dearborn; that an Indian runner—­whom she named Winnemeg—­had arrived from General Hull at Detroit, bringing also news that Mackinac had fallen.

“Doubtless your absence has greatly worried them also,” I said.

“Oh, no; none of them knew my plight.  Possibly some may miss me, but they will naturally suppose I have been at Mr. Kinzie’s house all this time.  I have been there often for weeks together, and they have frequently urged me to take shelter with them.  You see it is far safer there than at the Fort, for even the most hostile Indians remain on friendly terms with Mr. Kinzie and his family.  He has been there so many years, and is so just a man in his dealings with them.  ’T is really strange to see how he leaves his house unguarded, while the garrison at the Fort is almost in a state of siege.  It makes it hard to realize how imminent is the danger.  Yet they are terribly alarmed at the Fort, and I fear with cause.  Even Mr. Kinzie feels the situation to be critical.  There were fully three hundred Pottawattomie warriors encamped without the Fort two days ago; and they were becoming bold and impudent,—­one chief even firing his gun in Captain Heald’s office, thinking to frighten him into furnishing them with liquor.”

“But the Fort is strong?” I asked.  “It is capable of resisting an attack?”

“I should suppose so,” she answered, hesitatingly; “but that is not a matter upon which a girl may judge.  I fear, however, all is not harmony among its defenders.  I know that Captain Heald and Ensign Ronan do not agree, and I have heard bitter words spoken by other officers of the garrison.”

I thought she did not care to speak more about this matter, and we drifted off upon other topics, until I felt her head sink slowly down upon my shoulder, and knew she slept.  I sat there still, pillowing her tenderly upon my arm, when the gray light of the dawn stole slowly toward us across the ridges of sand and revealed the upturned face.

CHAPTER VIII

TWO MEN AND A MAID

The emotion I felt was new and strange to me; for though I had known little of young women, yet as I looked upon her in that dim light of dawn I found myself wondering if I already loved this strange girl.  Fair as her face certainly was, its beauty rendered even more striking by the pallor of her late exposure and the blackness of her dishevelled hair, it was her frankness and confidence which most appealed to me.  She had held all my thoughts through the long hours of watchfulness as I sat there quietly, feeling the rise and fall of her regular breathing,