"Fudge, Ande, your head would make two of mine, but fire away. I've been anxious for a long time to know."
Ande related the history of his family and the treasonable stain, while his companion listened attentively, and sympathetically. The tale was related to the finish.
"And the papers?"
"They were all confiscated except two, that are now in my possession."
"And your father?"
"He left a letter. You see the last letter that my mother received before father's disappearance contained one sealed, directed to me, which should be given to me when I came to mature years. It was given me when I came first to the Grammar School. Here it is," said Ande, as he pulled out of his inside pocket a long envelope that had been sealed with red wax.
"I have long since made myself familiar with its contents, but I am now going to read it to you," and opening it he read the following:
"Fort Malden, Canada, Sept. 10th, 1813."
"My Dear Son Andrew.—This letter is enclosed and sent in one to your mother, and is to be given to you when you are old enough to understand its contents. Whether I shall accomplish that for which I started to this blood-stained region or not yet remains to be seen. If not, and I should fall either in battle or a captive, you must faithfully carry out my request. Proctor has let hell loose upon the Americans and it has come back upon our own heads. I have no taste for this fighting side by side with savage Indians, and certainly Proctor is abusing his authority and position. He ruthlessly permits the savages to perform the most fiendish things imaginable, and has no respect for his word to a fallen foe.
"All Michigan was taken by his predecessor, General Brock, but he was unfortunately killed and now this unscrupulous man is over us. It makes me blush at the name Englishmen must bear through him, and disgusts me with the present service. At the battle of Frenchtown, last January, the American general, Winchester, and his men were captured. They surrendered on Proctor's word that their lives and property should be safe, but Proctor returned to Malden and left the wounded and prisoners to be scalped and burned alive by the blood-thirsty devils, our red allies, who even dragged some through the streets of Detroit for sale. Detroit people remonstrated with Proctor, but he only shrugged his shoulders.
"The same proceedings were repeated after the attack on Harrison at Fort Meigs. The battle was as good as a victory for us. Our men were on both sides of the river Maumee. Our left was repulsed with a small loss, but our right was victorious, taking prisoners nearly six hundred men. Then the same savage atrocities began. Even Tecumseh, the great chief, was more merciful than our general. With an appalling yell he rescued an American prisoner from two of his followers and then insulted Proctor to his face.
"'Why do you allow such things when I am not here?' he said.
"'Your Indians can't be controlled,' said Proctor.
"'Go, put on petticoats; you are not fit to command men,' said Tecumseh, and with that he stalked proudly away. But those who heard it agreed with the bold chief. He's a good soldier, but no general, and his cruelty and indifference to his word of honour has made the soldiers sick of such service. On account of this, and Admiral Barclay's defeat to-day, Michigan is lost to us and even Canada may be taken away from the home government. The splendid opportunities that Brock placed in our hands are of no value on account of incapable Proctor and pusillanimous Barclay. The naval battle was won before it was fought. Barclay had six vessels and Perry nine, but what of that? Englishmen have conquered before against odds. But there was Barclay, keeping under the guns of Malden, casting down the spirits of his men with the thought of certain defeat, while the American ships were out in the open inviting him to the attack. The sailors and gunners begged him to attack, and even wept in humiliation at his cowardice. Tecumseh, with several thousand Indians, were on an island waiting to witness the encounter. Tecumseh rowed over and sought Proctor.
"'You said you were master of the waters. Why don't you go out and fight? The Americans are daring you to come out and fight.'
"The result of that battle is known, or will be known soon. Oh, for men like Nelson, and Marlborough, and Wellington!
"But to the point of my request. My father has a dishonourable stain on his name, though unworthy of it, I believe. I have travelled among the Shawnese, our allies, who were father's foes at Braddock's defeat. I was sent by Brock as an agent to the Ohio, and witnessed their dances and the Prophet's agitation a year ago. Ah, they were blood-curdling scenes. While there I talked with an old Shawnee about King Shingas and Captain Jacobs, father's captors. He said he was a sub-chief under Shingas and was in the ambush at the defeat, and from what I could glean from his description, father was among the batch of prisoners consigned to his charge. He knew not what I had in mind at first. He was so old that his hair had turned white or grey, an unusual thing among the Indians. He spoke to me of the greatness of Shingas and the suffering of the prisoners until I felt like shooting him on the spot, the hoary old sinner. All were not burned, for after running the gauntlet one escaped, snatching a club from an Indian in his flight. The Shawnee called him the Long Red Wolf, at least such is the meaning of the Shawnee name in English. From the red hair, length of limb, and swiftness of foot, it must have been my father, who was accounted the swiftest foot in old Cornwall when young.
"Now hark ye, son Andrew, among the papers of your grandfather, found on his person, was one overlooked by the King's officers. It was a rude map of the Kittanning region and the rough vale of the Lycamahoning. I send a copy with the same directions in Shawnese and English. The vale leads down from the Allegheny Mountains, and the river empties into the Ohio some distance above the old Indian town of Kittanning, as you can readily see from the accompanying sketch. I have learned from long association with the Indians that this region is rich in silver and lead, possibly gold. At least there are legends to that effect. The ability of the natives to obtain lead for their weapons and their silver ornaments testify to an eldorado somewhere in the region. Now father was much interested in mining and metals, as what Cornishman is not. I asked the old warrior of Shingas concerning the Indian legend of this eldorado and quoted the old directions in Shawnese, for I speak their language: 'On one side a plain, on the other a steep that a smart Indian can climb.' He gazed at my red hair and became silently suspicious. A bullet that passed through my hat on my way back to Malden told me my knowledge had made me a mark of vengeance.
"This is all I know. Connect this Indian eldorado with the map found on father's body; explain how the French commission as captain was filled in with his own name, and how he happened to be in French uniform, and the problem is solved. If these could be explained I believe our family could raise its head once more among the loyal families of the delectable duchy,—Corn wall. I'll find this Indian eldorado and your grandfather's exoneration at the same time. They are both connected, I believe. If I fail you must take up the cause."
"Your affectionate father,
"Thomas Trembath,
"Major——6th Royal Infantry."Fort Malden, Canada."
"That's what we were studying about the other day," said Dick, as Ande ceased reading. "De 'ee remember, Ande, about Proctor and Tecumseh?"
"Aye," said Ande, musingly.