Morton’s anger again rose and he was about to say something rash, when Colonel Vanderberg gave his shoulder a monitory touch. “If none of you object, I will take charge of Mr Morton.” “Yer welkim to the critter,” remarked Major Spooner, at which the others expectorated in order to laugh. “He is under sentence of death, and it lies with the General to say when it shall be carried out. If he is willing you should undertake the provost-marshal’s duty, this committee of enquiry offer you their congratulations.” To this raillery Colonel Vanderberg said naught, and taking Morton by the arm led him into a vacant room. “Stay here for a minute,” he said. On re-entering he grasped Morton by the hand, while he informed him “the General has given me permission to take you with me, and will you ride with me to Fort Hickory?” “With all my heart,” answered Morton, and going to the door found several troopers waiting the Colonel, who pointed to Morton to get on the back of one of three spare horses. He did so and they galloped out of the village. CHAPTER IX. Maggie was busy with household duties when Hemlock entered and sat down near the table at which she stood. “All away?” he asked. “All except mother, who is having her afternoon nap.” Casting a suspicious glance round, the Indian drew something out of his pouch. “Do you know that?” It was a ring. Maggie examined it and as she recognized whose it was, blushed. “Is he alive?” she asked, in a low earnest tone, as if fearful that it was a memorial gift. “Yes; I was with him and spoke to him night before last.” “Where?” “At Four Corners.” “Tell me all?” entreated Maggie, and Hemlock recounted his visit, closing with the remark, “If he had come with me, he would have been here now.” “But he would have broken his word to the Yankees,” urged Maggie in his defence. “And perhaps they will break his neck,” answered Hemlock with a grunt. “Major Stovin told me that Hampton’s answer to his letter was that he could allow no interference from outside in his disposal of spies.” “Morton is not a spy,” exclaimed Maggie indignantly. “They will punish him all the same unless I give myself up,” said Hemlock, “and I mean to.” “Oh, Hemlock, they would kill you.” “Maybe, but Indian would save his friend.” “He may get off when our men beat them.” The Indian’s lip curled. “The owls are telling the eagles what to do. When the order came to the Indian bands not to fight but just watch, I left. We would have hung to their sides like wasps on a deer, and marked every mile they marched with deeds that would have caused widows to raise the funeral song from Champlain to the Ohio, but our arms are held fast.” “You did not tell me how you came by this ring?” faltered Maggie, as she shyly tried it on her fingers. “I asked him for a token, and he gave me that.” “A token for whom, Hemlock?” “For you.” “For me!” gasped Maggie, with beaming eyes, while her color came and went.