La Violette, during her short stay at Fort Meigs, lived in the tent
of the refugees. By many gracious acts, she endeared herself to her
simple-minded companions. She spent much of her time in caring for Amy’s
sick and fretful child; and the heart-broken young mother learned to
love and respect the gentle, sweet-faced nurse. The two women exchanged
confidences; and each shed tears over the trials that had fallen to the
lot of the other.
One evening, Ross and his sweetheart were walking up and down in front of
the refugees’ tent. The air was balmy; the sky was studded with stars.
From the camp-fires, twinkling like fireflies in the sweet dusk, came the
sounds of merriment; from the interior of the tent, came the cry of the
peevish baby.
“I pity her so!” La Violette said softly. “She has very honestly told me
all, Ross. She never loved you as I do; but she loved you in her way—I am
sure. And she lost you. Yet I am selfish enough to be glad, while I pity
her; for had she not done what she did, you would not be mine to-night.”
“I don’t know,” he replied, carefully weighing each word. “Perhaps I
wouldn’t have married her. I’m beginning to doubt that we ever really
loved each other. At any rate, I love _you_ now, darling—you alone! Now
let us talk of our future.”
They sauntered from the spot; while the stars smiled down upon them, as
they have smiled down upon lovers since the race began.
John Douglas found a grave just without the wall of the fortification. In
an obscure corner by himself, he was laid to rest. An erring son, he had
spent the best years of his life in the service of an alien power; but he
came home to sleep his last long sleep.
In after-years, Ross Douglas returned to Fort Meigs, with the intention
of erecting a monument to his father’s memory; but the surroundings had
changed so much he could not locate the grave.
When General Harrison was informed of the manner of John Douglas’s death,
he immediately sent for Ross. Taking the son by the hand, the old soldier
said with emotion:
“I’m sincerely glad I freed your father—sincerely sorry he’s dead. Yet
it is best. His death atones for his life. He died for you. It was a
noble self-sacrifice. Your father had in him the elements of a great and
noble nature; but his whole life was a failure, because his talents and
energies were misdirected. Whatever comes, my young friend, be true to
yourself, your country, and your God!”
For several days after the return of Ross and his friends to Fort Meigs,
the weather continued foul. Then it grew warm and bright with sunshine.
With the change in the weather, came a change in the aspect of affairs.
Hostilities were not renewed; an exchange of prisoners was effected.
The savages, discouraged by Proctor’s want of success in reducing the
American garrison, began to desert his standard in large numbers.
Realizing the uselessness of prolonging the siege, the British commander
prepared to abandon the enterprise; and on the ninth of the month he took
his departure.
The investment of the post had lasted thirteen days. During that time the
enemy had fired eighteen hundred shells and cannon balls into the fort,
and had kept up an annoying discharge of small arms; yet the American
loss in killed and wounded was only two hundred and seventy.
Offensive operations were for a time suspended. The American troops
remained at Fort Meigs and Sandusky. A few days after the British had
withdrawn, General Harrison left General Clay in command of the post, and
set out for Franklinton, to forward re-enforcements. With the commander
and his escort, went Ross Douglas and his friends. Without mishap or
adventure, the whole company reached their destination in the latter part
of May.
At Franklinton, Amy Hilliard bade farewell to Ross and La Violette and,
joining a party of returning settlers, went to her father’s people in
western Pennsylvania.
Upon their arrival at Franklinton, Ross Douglas and Violet Brownlee were
married. In the early part of July the young husband returned to Fort
Meigs. He served throughout the war, as scout and guide, with credit to
himself and advantage to his country’s cause.
Bright Wing went with his white friend, and was his companion in many a
perilous enterprise. Farley and Duke remained at Franklinton, with La
Violette.
“I am loth to have you go, Ross,” she said when he informed her of his
purpose. “You may never come back to me. Still, do whatever you feel is
your duty—I would not hold you back. _Your_ country is _my_ country now.
God bless and keep you!”
Fondly kissing her, he bade her farewell. At the door of the cabin that
was his temporary abode, he met Farley. The eccentric Joe held out his
hands, saying:
“Good-by, Ross Douglas. I hope this trip’ll be as lucky to you as y’r
last one—I do, by ginger! I’ll take good keer o’ y’r purp an’ the little
woman. An’ if you git killed, I’ll marry La Violette myself—I will, by
King Solerman’s six hundred wives! I think she’s kind o’ struck with my
good looks an’ beauty a’ready—I do, by——”
“Good-by, Joe—good-by!” Ross interrupted, smiling. “Let no harm befall
her, old friend. Good-by!”
And he was gone, leaving Farley staring after him.
At the close of the war, the young couple went to Quebec, to obtain
possession of their property. La Violette’s relative was dead; and she
had no difficulty in proving her title to the estate. Ross, with some
trouble, obtained the bulk of his father’s fortune. Turning their real
estate into money, they returned to the land they loved—to the shelter
of the Stars and Stripes. To the day of his death, Ross Douglas wore
the ring that had finally brought him such good fortune—the gift of La
Violette—_the Sign of the Prophet_.
[Illustration]