"Are the outer gates ever opened at night?" I asked.
He glanced up at me in surprise, shading his eyes to be assured of my identity before speaking.
"Scarcely either day or night now, sir," he replied, respectfully, "but between sunset and sunrise they are specially barred, and a double guard is set. No one can pass except on the order of Captain Heald."
"In which direction is the Kinzie house?"
He pointed toward the northeast corner of the stockade.
"It is just over there, sir, across the river. You might see the light from the platform; beyond the shed yonder is the ladder that leads up into the blockhouse."
Thanking him, I moved forward as directed, found the ladder, and pushed my way up through the narrow opening in the floor of the second story. The small square room, feebly lighted by a single sputtering candle stuck in the shank of a bayonet, contained half a dozen men, most of them idling, although two were standing where they could readily peer out through the narrow slits between the logs. All of them were heavily armed, and equipped for service. They looked at me curiously as I first appeared, but the one who asked my business wore the insignia of a corporal, and was evidently in command.
"I wish to look out over the stockade, if there is no objection. I came in with Captain Wells's party this afternoon," I said, not knowing what their orders might be, or if I would be recognized.
"I remember you, sir," was the prompt response, "and you are at liberty to go out there if you desire. That is the door leading to the platform."
"The Indians appear to be very quiet to-night."