“Come on—don’t delay us,” the officer called.
“Here are two of my comrades who desire to accompany me,” Ross hastened to explain.
The officer cut him short with:
“Bring them along—but be quick about it. The boat will accommodate us all.”
A few minutes later, the entire party had landed on the opposite shore and were making their way toward the British encampment. There the American officer engaged in a consultation with General Proctor and his staff, while Ross Douglas and his companions went to the quarters of Tenskwatawa and La Violette, at Fort Miami.
John Douglas led the way into the stockade of the old fort. The place was filled with Indians and white prisoners. Some of the latter were ill-fated settlers; others were the luckless Kentuckians of General Clay’s command. Several of the militiamen knew Ross Douglas and, calling to him, asked what were the prospects of a speedy exchange. He answered their questions briefly as he hurried along. Occasionally a guttural voice exclaimed—“Fleet Foot!”; and the young man became aware that many of the savages recognized him and were scowling at him. But they did not offer to impede the progress of the small party. Scar Face, whom they hated and feared, was leading it.
On reaching the farther side of the inclosure, John Douglas stopped and whispered to his son:
“Here’s the cabin Violet occupies. You’ll enter with me; your friends will remain outside—on guard. The Indians are dissatisfied—restless—and ready for any desperate venture. I don’t think they’ll dare to interfere with us in any way—but they may. Caution your comrades to be discreet—to give no heed to threatening words and gestures, unless the savages offer to attack them.”
Ross, turning to Farley, said in a low tone: