"You were truly fortunate to get through the Indian lines," he said, after they had finished. "Matters are assuming bad shape and I am afraid they will be worse before they are better."
"Are you bound for Fort Detroit?" asked the old frontiersman.
"Yes, and I'll be happy to carry you to the end of your journey."
They soon learned that the lieutenant's name was Bruitt, and that he had served on the Lakes during the whole of the war with France. This interested Dave, and he told of his own soldier life at Fort Niagara, Quebec, and Montreal.
"Glad to know you, Morris," said Lieutenant Bruitt, warmly. "You are young to have seen so much of army life."
"Well, I started in rather young," answered Dave, with a smile.
The canoe was hoisted to the deck of the schooner, and in a short while the larger craft was again on her way to Detroit. She carried a crew of sixteen and was loaded with provisions sent to Fort Detroit from the other British strongholds further to the eastward.
Lieutenant Bruitt was a young man and took to Dave from the very start. He made the youth and the old frontiersman feel thoroughly at home on board the schooner and treated them to the best the craft afforded.
From the lieutenant they learned that Pontiac had established himself on a small island near the entrance to Lake St. Clair, which as my readers know, is but a short distance from Detroit. Here the great chief was watching the English as a hawk watches a brood of young chicks.
"We are satisfied that he is up to something, but so far his plot has not been revealed," said the lieutenant. "Ugly rumors are afloat but Pontiac professes eternal friendship."