Smilingly he turned to Alagwa. “There’s our destination! We’ll stay there tonight and tomorrow I’ll start back. You’ll be too tired to go, of course.”
Startled, the girl looked up. But her face cleared as she saw that Jack was smiling and guessed that he was mocking her.
Rapidly the quadrilateral swelled out of the plain. A great gate, midway of its southern side, stood invitingly open and toward this the travellers directed their way. A sentry stared at them curiously as they passed in but did not challenge or stop them.
Just inside the gate Jack reined in, looking for a moment at the unfamiliar scene. On the parade ground that occupied the square interior of the fort a company of forty soldiers was drilling under command of a heavy man, rotund and stout. At the left, in the shade of the walls, stood a group of men and boys, some of them white but most of them Indian.
Some one called out and the members of the group turned from watching the drill and stared at the newcomers. The captain of the company, too, was plainly curious, for he turned his men over to a sub-officer and crossed to join the rest. He bore himself with an air of authority that bespoke him the commander of the fort.
Jack rode up to him and reined in, sweeping off his hat with a boyish flourish. “Good evening, sir!” he cried. “Have I the honor of addressing Captain Rhea?”
The officer shook his head. His face was flushed and the veins on his forehead were swollen. Obviously he had been drinking heavily. “Captain Rhea is ill,” he grunted. “I’m Lieutenant Hibbs, in command. Who are you?”
Jack hesitated. He had not expected to find a drunken man in charge of so important a post as Fort Wayne. Heavy drinking was not rare in those days; rum was on every man’s table and “Brown Betty” was drunk almost as freely by both sexes and all ages as coffee is today. The code of the day, however, condemned men in responsible positions for drinking more than they could carry decently.
As Jack hesitated the officer grew angry. His flushed face grew redder. “Speak up!” he growled. “Who are you and what do you want?”
Jack could hesitate no longer. Lightly he leaped from his saddle, looping the bridle over his arm and came forward. “I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Hibbs,” he said. “I am Mr. Telfair, of Alabama, up here on personal business. I turned aside at Girty’s Town to escort a wagon-load of ammunition that General Hull had sent you——”