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.”