At the head of the long column, a little knot of mounted officers were holding a consultation in low tones. The central figure of the group was a tall, spare man of middle age. He sat his horse—a wiry chestnut sorrel of trim form and slender limbs—with the ease and grace of a practiced and fearless horseman. His nose was large; his smooth-shaven features were irregular. But his face was redeemed from plainness by a pair of dark, penetrating eyes and a mouth indicative of courage and resolution. Intelligence and benevolence beamed from his rugged countenance. He wore the uniform of the United States army; and his arms consisted of a brace of pistols and a sword.
Shaking the rain-drops from his military cocked hat, he replaced it atop his dark wavy hair and remarked:
“I’m loath to camp here—especially as none of the scouts have returned to inform us of the designs and movements of the enemy. We are nearing the hostile village, I’m certain. It can’t be many miles away. Here we have the open plain on three sides of us. We should be unprotected from a surprise; and as you well know, Colonel Boyd, a surprise is what we have to fear—a surprise in the early morning when the troops are soundly sleeping. I would prefer a more sheltered place. And it gives me some concern, that none of the scouts have yet returned. I can’t understand it.”
“May I offer a suggestion, governor?” asked the man addressed as Colonel Boyd, gracefully saluting his superior officer.
“Certainly.” And Governor Harrison bowed low over the pommel of his saddle.
“Then, this is what I would suggest: That we form a semi-circular barricade of our wagons, and encamp under their cover. Also, that we double the usual number of our sentries. I like the site no better than you do, but men and teams are exhausted—and we can go no farther. We must make the best of it.”
“Very well,” Harrison answered decidedly. “I don’t like the plan. But perhaps extra vigilance will save us from a night-attack; that is, if the Indians be in the vicinity—which we do not know. Give the command, colonel. The men are impatient.”
This order the governor addressed to Colonel Owen, one of his aides. The officer whirled his horse and dashed away. At that moment two men, followed by a large dog, emerged from the fringe of woodland, and with rapid strides approached the group of officers.
“Whom have we here?” muttered Harrison, straining his eyes through the semi-gloom. “Ah! scouts. Now we shall know something positive of the savages.”
As the two shadowy figures drew near, the governor spurred forward to meet them. The other officers followed his example; and soon the two scouts were surrounded by a ring of jingling spurs and rattling scabbards. One of the newcomers stopped suddenly and looked hurriedly about him, as though seeking a chance to escape. The other advanced boldly until he stood at the commander’s side. Then he lifted his hat and announced with quiet dignity: