"Yes."

"One of the best of the countries belonging to the Indians?"

"It is a good country, but I do not know that it ever belonged to the Indians. No doubt they have hunted there and fought there for hundreds of years, but so far as I know, they've never lived there."

"Then it belongs to the King," said Holderness.

Henry smiled. He rather liked this ingenuous young man who was not much older than himself.

"A country like Kentucky," he replied, "belongs to those who can hold it. Once the French King claimed it, but how could he enforce a claim to a country separated from him by thousands of miles of sea and wilderness? Now the English King makes the same claim, and perhaps he has a better chance, but still that chance is not good enough."

The young officer sighed a little.

"I'm sorry we have to fight you," he said. "I've heard ugly tales since I came about the savages and the white men, too."

"You're likely to hear more," said Henry. "But this I take it is our jail."

"It is. I'll go in and see that you're as comfortable as possible."

CHAPTER X

THE LETTER OF THE FOUR

The building into which Henry was taken was built of brick and rough stone, two stories in height, ma.s.sive and very strong. The door which closed the entrance was of thick oak, with heavy crosspieces, and the two rows of small windows, one above the other, were fortified with iron bars, so close together that a man could not pa.s.s between. Henry's quick eye noticed it all, as they entered between the British guards at the door. The house inside was divided into several rooms, none containing more than a rude pallet bed, a small pine table, a tin pitcher, a cup of water, and a pine stool.

Henry followed Holderness into one of these rooms, and promptly sat on the pine stool by the window. Holderness looked at him with a mixture of admiration and pity.

"I'm sorry, old chap," he said, "that I have to lock you up here. Come now, do be reasonable. These rebels are bound to lose, and, if you can't join us, take a parole and go somewhere into Canada until all the trouble is over."

Henry laughed lightly, but his heart warmed again toward young Holderness who had come from some easy and sheltered spot in England, and who knew nothing of the wilderness and its hardships and terrors.

"Don't you be sorry for me," he said. "As for this room, it's better than anything that I've been used to for years. And so far as giving a parole and going into Canada, I wouldn't dream of such a thing. It would interfere with my plans. I'm going back into the South to fight against your people and the Indians."

"But you're a prisoner!"

"For the present, yes, but I shall not remain so."

"You can't escape."

"I always escape. It's true I was never before in so strong a prison, but I shall go. I am willing to tell you, Lieutenant Holderness, because others will tell you anyhow, that I have outside four very faithful and skillful friends. Nothing would induce them to desert me, and among us we will secure my escape."

Into the look of mingled admiration and pity with which Holderness had regarded Henry crept a touch of defiance.

"You're deucedly confident, old chap," he said. "You don't seem to think that we amount to much here, and yet Colonel de Peyster has undoubtedly saved you from the Indians. You should be grateful to him for that much."

Henry laughed. This ingenuous youth now amused him.

"What makes you think it was Colonel de Peyster or any other English or Tory officer who saved me from the Indians? Well, it wasn't. If Colonel Bird and your other white friends had had their way when I was taken I should have been burned at the stake long before this. It was the Wyandot chief, Timmendiquas, known in our language as White Lightning, who saved me."

The young officer's red face flushed deeper red.

"I knew that we had been charged with such cruelties," he said, "but I had hoped that they were not true. Now, I must leave you here, and, upon my soul, I do not wish you any harm."

He went out and Henry felt a heavy key turn in the lock. A minute or two after he had gone the prisoner tried the door, and found that it was made of heavy oak, with strong crosspieces of the same material. He exerted all his great strength, and, as he expected, he could not shake it. Then he went back to the pine stool, which he drew up near a barred window, and sitting there watched as well as he could what was pa.s.sing in the great court.

Henry had too much natural wisdom and experience to beat his head uselessly against bars. He would remain quiet, preserving the strength of both body and mind, until the time for action came. Meanwhile he was using his eyes. He saw some of the chiefs pa.s.s, always accompanied by white officers. But he saw officers alone, and now and then women, both red and white. He also saw the swarthy faces of woods runners, and among them, one whose face and figure were familiar, that same Pierre Louis Lajeunais, whom he had met outside the fort.

Lajeunais carried his rifle on one shoulder and a pack of furs on the other. It was a heavy pack, probably beaver skins, but he moved easily, and Henry saw that he was very strong. Henry regarded him thoughtfully.

This man had been friendly, he had access to the fort, and he might be induced to give him aid. He did not see just then how Lajeunais could be of help to him, but he stored the idea in the back of his head, ready for use if there should be occasion.

He presently saw Timmendiquas go by with Colonel de Peyster on one side of him and Colonel Caldwell on the other. Henry smiled. Evidently they were paying a.s.siduous court to the Wyandot, and well they might. Without the aid of the powerful Indian tribes the British at Detroit could do nothing. In a few moments they were gone and then the twilight began to come over the great western post. From his window Henry caught a view of a distant reach of the broad river, glittering gold in the western sun.

It came ultimately from one great lake and would empty into another.

Paul's words returned to him. Those mysterious and mighty great lakes!

would he live to see them with his comrades? Once in his early captivity with the Indians he had wandered to the sh.o.r.es of the farthest and greatest of them all, and he remembered the awe with which he had looked upon the vast expanse of waters like the sea itself. He wished to go there again. Hundreds of stories and legends about the mighty chain had come from the Indians and this view of the river that flowed from the upper group stirred again all his old curiosity. Then he remembered his position and with a low laugh resumed his seat on the pine stool.

Yet he watched the advance of the night. It seemed that the vast wilderness was coming down on Detroit and would blot it out completely, fortress, soldiers, village and all. In a little while the darkness covered everything save a few flickering lights here and there. Henry sat at the window a while, gazing absently at the lights. But his mind was away with his comrades, Paul, Shif'less Sol, Long Jim and Silent Tom, the faithful four with whom he had pa.s.sed through a world of dangers. Where were they now? He had no doubt that they were near Detroit. It was no idle boast that he made to Colonel de Peyster when he said they would help rescue him. He awaited the result with absolute confidence. He was in truth so lacking in nervous apprehension that when he lay down on the rude pallet he was asleep in two minutes.

He was awakened the next morning by Lieutenant Holderness who informed him that in the daytime, for the present at least, he would be allowed the liberty of the court. He could also eat outside.

"I'm grateful," said Henry. "I wish to thank Colonel de Peyster, or whoever the man may be who has given me this much liberty."

"It is Colonel de Peyster, of course," said the ruddy one.

But Henry shrewdly suspected that his modic.u.m of liberty was due to Timmendiquas, or rather the fear of de Peyster that he would offend Timmendiquas, and weaken the league, if he ill treated the prisoner.

Henry went outside and bathed his face at a water barrel. Then at the invitation of Holderness he joined some soldiers and Canadian Frenchmen who were cooking breakfast together beside a great fire. They made room readily at the lieutenant's request and Henry began to eat. He noticed across the fire the brown face of Lajeunais, and he nodded in a friendly manner. Lajeunais nodded in return and his black eyes twinkled. Henry thought that he saw some significance in the twinkle, but when he looked again Lajeunais was busy with his own breakfast. Then the incident pa.s.sed out of his mind and he quickly found himself on good terms with both soldiers and woods runners.

"You give your parole," said Lajeunais, "an' go North wiz me on the great huntin' an' trappin'. We will go North, North, North, beyon' the Great Lakes, an' to other lakes almost as great, a thousan', two thousan' miles beyon' the home of white men to trap the silver fox, the pine marten an' the other furs which bring much gold. Ah, le bon Dieu, but it is gran'! an' you have ze great figure an' ze great strength to stan' ze great cold. Then come wiz me. Ze great lakes an' woods of ze far North is better zan to fret your life out here in ze prison. You come?"

He spoke entreatingly, but Henry smiled and replied in a tone full of good humor:

"It's a tempting offer, and it's very kind of you, Monsieur Lajeunais, but I cannot accept it. Neither am I going to fret my life out within these walls. I'm going to escape."

All the soldiers and woods runners laughed together except Lajeunais.

Henry's calm a.s.surance seemed a great joke to them, but the Frenchman watched him shrewdly. He was familiar with men of the woods, and it seemed to him that the great youth was not boasting, merely stating a fact.

"Confidence is ze gran' thing," he said, "but these walls are high an'

the ears are many."

While Henry sat there with the men, Colonel de Peyster pa.s.sed. The commander was in an especially good humor that morning. He was convinced that his negotiations with the Indian were going well. He had sworn to Timmendiquas again that if the Western tribes would fight for the King, the King would help them in return should their villages be attacked.

More presents had been distributed judiciously among the chiefs. The renegades also were at work. All of Girty's influence, and it was large, had been brought to bear in favor of the invasion, and it seemed to de Peyster that everything was now settled. He saw Henry sitting by the fire, gave him an ironical look, and, as he pa.s.sed, sang clearly enough for the captive to hear a song of his own composition. He called it "The Drill Sergeant," written to the tune of "The Happy Beggars," and the first verse ran:

Come, stand well to your order, Make not the least false motion; Eyes to the right, Thumb, muzzle height; Lads, you have the true notion.

Here and there, Everywhere That the King's boys may be found, Fight and die, Be the cry, 'Ere in battle to give ground.