“General, I haven’t told you all concerning my captivity among the Prophet’s warriors. Would you like to hear the story in full?”
“If you don’t mind telling me, Douglas—yes,” was the smiling reply.
For an hour they sat in the commander’s quarters—the younger man calmly talking, the older gravely listening. At last Douglas finished and arose to go.
“Wonderful!” Harrison exclaimed as he got upon his feet. “Your story sounds like a mythical tale of the long ago. And yet if I desired proof of its truthfulness—which I do not—you have it with you. Keep the ring, my boy, in remembrance of the perils and adventures through which you have passed. I trust that in your possession—whatever its magic power—it may not work the evil to our country, it has done in the hands of the Prophet. Tenskwatawa—a wizard, a sorcerer, a cowardly cur. Hiram Bradford—an English agent among the Indians, a spy among the Americans, your foe—your friend. La Violette—an untutored savage, a refined and intelligent white woman. What characters for a romance—a drama! And yet they are actual inhabitants of these Western wilds.”
Then suddenly riveting his keen gaze upon Douglas’s handsome face:
“What is your purpose now—what are you going to do?”
“I came to offer my services to you, General,” was the answer.
The commander meditatively rubbed his chin for some seconds. At last he said:
“There will be but little active campaigning until spring opens. Then the war will begin in earnest—and I shall need you. However, there will be expeditions sent out against the troublesome savages, all through the winter. By the way, I’m going to send Colonel Campbell against the villages upon the Mississinewa, this month. Would you care to go as guide and scout?”
“I should be greatly pleased to go,” Ross answered simply.