“Oh, is that all?  Well, Captain de Croix will hardly be found sufficiently recovered from his late adventure to enter upon another one so early.  ’T is in my thought he either sleeps or is prinking himself for more pleasant conquests.  But why worry him?  In my judgment, no poorer choice could be made for so serious a task as you propose.  He is a mere French courtier,—­brave enough, and rash, I grant, yet without knowledge of Indian ways and treachery.  Might not I answer better as his substitute?”

“You?”

“Ay! and why not?  I am frontier-bred, long trained in woodcraft and savage ways, and surely far better fitted for such a task than is this petted darling of the courts.  Were it a flirtation, now, the post might be truly his.”

“’T is true, you would be my choice; but do you realize the peril involved?”

“Fully, my friend, yet scarce think it so desperate as you imagine.  It is my judgment the savages yonder are seeking bigger game than so small a party would afford, and will therefore allow us to go free.  However, if it should prove otherwise,” and I spoke the words with a sore heart as I recalled what had just occurred, “I am a lone man in the world, and to such an one death is not so terrible, even at Indian hands.  Come, I will go with you to confer with Captain Heald, and offer him my services.  He can do no more than refuse.”

Helm offered no further objection, doubtless feeling it useless in my venturesome mood; and we crossed the parade together without speaking.

Captain Wells was the first to see me as we entered, and some instinct told him instantly of my purpose.

“Ah, Wayland, my boy!  I have been troubled lest you might chance to hear of our plight, and jump in.  Come now, lad! ’t was not you we sent after, nor can we use you in so grave a matter.”

“And pray, why not?” I questioned, a little touched by this evidence of kindness, yet firmly determined to keep my pledge to Mademoiselle.  “I am a better man for such deeds than the Frenchman, and am eager to go.”

“So this is not your Captain de Croix?” said Captain Heald, eying me curiously.  “Saint George! but he is a big fellow,—­the same who made the race last night, or I mistake greatly.  And what is this man’s name?”

“It is John Wayland,” I answered, anxious to impress him favorably; “a frontiersman of the Maumee country, and fairly skilled in Indian ways.  I have come to volunteer my services to go with you.”

“You are anxious to die? have the spirit of a Jesuit, perchance, and are ambitious of martyrdom?”

“Not unusually so, sir, but I think the danger overrated by these gentlemen.  At least, I am ready and willing to go.”

“And so you shall, lad!” cried the old soldier, striking a hand upon his knee.  “You are of the race of the long rifles; I know your kind well.  Not another word, William! here is a man worth any twenty of your French beaux strutting with a sword.  Now we start at once, and shall have this matter settled speedily.”