FOR a moment the crowd hung in the balance. Then Jack laughed. The
ridiculous side of the quarrel had struck him. He turned to Alagwa.
“Thank you, Bob, old chap,” he said, gratefully. “And you, too, Cato. I
won’t forget. But I reckon we won’t have to kill anybody.”
Still holding the rifle, he turned back to the throng. “Here’s your
rifle, Williams,” he said, tossing the gun indifferently over. “Come,
old man,” he called to Alagwa. “Come, Cato!” Without a backward glance
he strode away.
Silence almost complete followed his departure. Mr. Hibbs made no move
to renew his order; he stood still and watched the party walk away.
Plainly he was beginning to realize that he had gone too far.
Stickney, however, with an impatient exclamation, separated himself
from the others and hurried after Jack. “You did exactly right, Mr.
Telfair,” he said, as he came up, “and I’m sorry you should have been
so outrageously treated. Captain Rhea isn’t a bad sort, but he is very
ill and Mr. Hibbs is in his place and you see what sort of a man he is.
The fiasco about the ammunition made it worse. We are practically out
of it.”
Jack nodded and laughed a little shamefacedly. “I reckon it serves
me right,” he said. “I got the idea that I was serving the country
and I reckon I made a fool of myself. The worst of it is, I left some
very important matters of my own. However, there’s no use crying over
spilled milk. Since General Hull has been so successful----”
“But has he?” Mr. Stickney broke in. “I hope he has. He really has
crossed into Canada. We know that much. But we don’t know any more.
Hibbs invented the rest in order to counteract the effect of his slip
in saying that we are short of ammunition. You see, there is some
little excuse for his behavior, outrageous as it was.”
Jack nodded. “I see!” he acceded. “Well! It really doesn’t matter. I
intended to start back to Piqua tomorrow morning, anyway.”
“Oh! We can’t let you go that quickly. I want to hear more about that
murder. I must send a report about it to Washington. You’ll give me the
details?”
“With pleasure.”
Major Stickney hesitated and glanced round. “The factory building is
outside the fort,” he said, “and I’d be delighted to have you stay
there with me, if it wasn’t crowded to the doors. My assistant, Captain
Wells, with his wife and their children completely fill it. But there’s
a sort of hotel here kept by a French trader, one Peter Bondie, and he
can put you up for the night. That will give us time for a talk.”
Jack nodded. “Good!” he exclaimed. “I’ll be only too glad to stay,
especially as I want to consult you about this youngster.” He turned
toward Alagwa. “Come here, Bob,” he called. “I want you to meet Major
Stickney.”
Alagwa was lagging behind the rest. Her brain was tingling with the
information that had just come to her ears. The fort--the great bulwark
of all northwest Indiana and Ohio--was almost out of ammunition. A
small force of her Shawnees, aided by a few redcoats, if well armed,
might take it easily. If she could only send them information! Ah! that
would be a triumph greater far than the capture of many wagons--even of
wagons actually laden with ammunition.
She would seek the runner at once. She would not hesitate again as she
had hesitated on that unforgotten night. The men in the fort were the
sort of Americans she hated. More, they had dared to threaten the young
white chief. She had meant what she said when she offered to fight them
to the death. Gladly she would kill them all, all!
Jack threw his arm about her shoulders and drew her to his side. “This
is the boy that Wolf shot,” he explained. “I call him Bob, because he
doesn’t know his white name, and I want him to forget he was ever an
Indian. He and I have got to be great chums already.”
Stickney smiled. “So it seems,” he commented, eyeing Alagwa with
approval. “He certainly seems to be pretty clear grit. He stood behind
you just now like a man, even if he isn’t knee high to a grasshopper.”
Jack glanced at Alagwa affectionately. “He’s a good one, all right,” he
declared. “Cato swears he’s quality and Cato’s a mighty good judge. I
can see it myself, for that matter. He must come from good people and
we’ve got to find them. And he’s pure grit. Williams told the truth
about his part in the fight. That’s another thing I’ll tell you about
tonight. Where did you say this Peter Bondie was to be found?” Jack
looked about him inquiringly.
The sun was dropping lower and lower. Its rays traced fiery furrows
across the bending grass of the prairie and filled the air with golden
lights. Against it the crest of the fortress stood black, golden rimmed
at the top. Afar, the broad river gleamed silver bright beneath the
darkening sky.
Stickney pointed ahead. “Yonder’s his store and hotel, ahead there by
the river. His wife is a Miami Indian, but she attends to the store and
you probably won’t see her at all. His sister, Madame Fantine Loire, a
widow, manages the hotel. She’s a born cook and she’ll give you meals
that you’ll remember after you are dead. I’m afraid she can’t give you
a room. Her guests just spread their blanket rolls before the fire in
the bar room and sleep there. They seem to find it very comfortable.”
Jack nodded. “That’ll be all right,” he answered, absently. He was
peering westward, beneath his shading hand. “I think I see somebody I
know--Yes! By George! I do! It’s Tom Rogers. I reckon he’s looking for
me.”
Rogers it was! He was approaching at a dog-trot from the direction of
the fort. When he saw that Jack had seen him he slackened his pace.
“Talk! Talk! Talk!” he began, when he came up. “These people here sure
do knock the persimmons for talk. Back in the fort they’re buzzing like
a hive of bees. They talk so much I couldn’t hardly find out what had
happened. And what’s the use of it? There ain’t none. Go ahead and do
things is my motto. When you get to talkin’ there’s no tellin’ where
you’ll come out. Anybody might ha’ knowed it was plumb foolish to try
to talk to that man Hibbs. Everybody in this country knows him. You
can’t do nothing with him unless you smash him over the head. But I
reckon you found that out. They tell me you pulled a pistol on him.
That’s the right thing to do. Powder talks and----”
Jack broke in. He had learned by experience that to break in was the
only way to get to speak at all when Rogers held the floor. “Did you
bring me a letter from Colonel Johnson?” he asked. “Has he found the
girl?”
“Not yet. She’s plumb vanished. But I brung you a letter from the
Colonel.” The old man felt in his hunting shirt and drew out a packet,
which he handed to Jack. “Colonel Johnson says to me, says he----”
Again Jack interrupted. “We’re going to Peter Bondie’s to spend the
night,” he said. “Come along with us.”
The old hunter’s face lit up. “Say!” he exclaimed. “You ain’t never
been here before, have you? Well, you got a treat comin’! Just wait
till you see Madame Fantine and eat some of her cooking. An’ she’s a
mighty fine woman besides. Jest tell her I’ll be along later. First I
reckon I’d better go back to the fort. I’ve got some friends there,
and maybe I can smooth things down for you some. There ain’t no use in
makin’ enemies. The boys are pretty sore at you just now. But I c’n
smooth ’em down all right if I can only get a chance to put a word in
edgeways. The trouble is that people talk so blame much----”
“All right. Come to the inn when you get ready. You’ll find us there.”
Jack turned back to Stickney. As he did so he tore open his letter and
glanced over its contents. It was from Colonel Johnson, acknowledging
the receipt of his letter, commending his action in the matter of
Wilwiloway’s murder, and promising to do all he could to find the girl
of whom Jack was in search. “I know her well,” ended the colonel, “and
I shall be glad to look for her. She was here recently, but she has
disappeared and I rather think she may have gone north with Tecumseh.
Your best chance of finding her would probably be to go down the Maumee
and join General Hull at Detroit. As for Captain Brito Telfair, he has
disappeared and has probably gone back to Canada.”
Jack handed the letter to Major Stickney. “This touches on the main
object of my visit to Ohio, Major,” he said, when the latter had read
it. “The girl of whom Colonel Johnson speaks is the daughter of my
kinsman, Delaroche Telfair, who came to Ohio from France in 1790 and
settled at Gallipolis. Later, he seems to have lived with the Shawnees,
probably as a trader, and when he died he left his daughter in
Tecumseh’s care.” Jack went on, explaining the circumstances that made
it necessary for him to find the girl without delay. “If you can help
me any, Major,” he finished, “I’ll be grateful.”
“I’ll be delighted. But I’m afraid I can’t do much. I’m a greenhorn up
here, you know. But I’ll ask Captain Wells, my assistant. He’s been in
these parts all his life. He was captured by the Miamis forty years ago
and grew up with them and married a Miami woman. He’ll know if any one
does--No! By George!”--Major Stickney was growing excited--“I forgot.
Peter Bondie will know more than Wells. He and his sister were in the
party of Frenchmen that settled Gallipolis in 1790. They were recruited
in Paris and very likely they came over in the ship with your relation.
Of course neither of them is likely to know anything about the girl,
but it’s just possible that they may. Anyway, you’ll want to talk to
them. Here’s their place.”
Major Stickney pointed to a log building, larger than most of its
neighbors, that stood not far from the bank of the river. From the
crowd of Indians and the piles of miscellaneous goods at one of its
entrances it seemed to be as much store as dwelling.
Jack stepped forward eagerly. “Talk to them?” he echoed. “I should
think I would! This is great luck.” Jack knew that many of the French
settlers of Gallipolis had quit their first homes on the banks of the
Ohio river and had scattered through the northwest, but he had not
expected to find two of them at Fort Wayne. Perhaps his coming there
would prove to be less of a blunder than he had thought a few moments
before. So eager was he to see them that for the moment he forgot
Alagwa.
The girl was glad to be forgotten. Her heart was throbbing painfully.
For a moment the necessity of sending word to Tecumseh about the
ammunition had been thrust into the background. To most persons the
thought of finding of people who had known their father would have
caused little emotion. To Alagwa, however, it came as a shock, the
more so from its unexpectedness. Her memories of her father were
very few, but she had secretly cherished them, grieving over their
incompleteness. Fear of betraying her identity had prevented her from
questioning Jack too closely about him; and, indeed, Jack was almost
as ignorant as she concerning the things she wished to know. But here
were a man and a woman, who had crossed the ocean with him when he was
young and vigorous. Surely they knew him well! Perhaps they had known
her mother, whom she remembered not at all. Her heart stood still
at the thought. Dully she heard Cato’s voice expounding the family
relationships to Rogers, who seemed to be for the moment dumb. “Yes,
sah!” he was saying. “Dat’s what I’m tellin’ you. Dere ain’t nobody
better’n de Telfairs in all Alabama. Dey sure is--Lord A’mighty! Who
dat?”
Alagwa looked up and saw a little round Frenchman, almost as swarthy
as an Indian, running down the path toward them, literally smiling all
over himself. Behind him waddled an enormously fat woman, who shook
like a bowlful of jelly.
A moment more and the man had come up. “Ah! Is it my good friend, Major
Stickney?” he burst out. “He brings me the guests, yes!”
Stickney nodded, smilingly. “Four of them, Peter,” he said; “and one
more to come--a very special one. I commend him especially to your
sister. A man named--er--Rogers, I believe.” He grinned at the woman,
who was hurrying up.
She grinned back at him. “Oh! La! La!” she cried. “That silent Mr.
Rogers. He will not talk. He will do nothing but eat. Mon Dieu! What is
one to do with such a man? But les autres! These other messieurs here.
They are most welcome.”
Stickney nodded. “They start for Detroit tomorrow,” he explained,
“but before they go they want to eat some of your so-wonderful meals.
They’ve heard about them from Rogers. Ah! But that man adores you,
Madame Fantine. Besides, they’ve got a lot to ask you.”
“To ask me, monsieur?” The French woman’s beady eyes darted inquiringly
from Stickney to Jack and back again.
“Yes! You and our good friend Pierre.”
“Bon! I shall answer with a gladness, but, yes, with a gladness. It
is of the most welcome that they are. They are of the nobility. With
half an eye one can see that. It will be a pleasure the most great to
entertain them.”
As she spoke the French woman’s roving eyes rested on Alagwa’s face.
Instantly they widened with an amazement that sent the blood flooding
to the tips of the girl’s shell-like ears. Then they jumped to Jack’s
face and she gasped.
“Of a truth, monsieur,” she went on, after an almost imperceptible
break. “It is not worth the while to prepare the dishes of la belle
France for the cochons who live hereabouts. They care for naught but
enough to fill their bellies! But you, monsieur, ah! it will be the
great pleasure to cook for you. Entrez! Entrez! Messieurs.” She stood
aside and waved her guests toward the house.