By dawn the way became easier and the danger greater. Then we paused and lifted our rifles if a twig broke near by, or a fox barked, or wind rushed among leaves as a patter of moccasins might come. Skenedonk and I, sure of the northern Indians, were making a venture in the west. We knew nothing of Tecumseh's swift red warriors, except that scarcely a year had passed since his allies had tomahawked women and children of the garrison on the sand teach at Chicago. Without kindling any fire we stopped once that day to eat, and by good luck and following the river, reached that Lower Sandusky which was called Fort Stephenson, about nightfall. The place was merely a high stockade with blockhouses at the angles, and a gate opening toward the river. Within, besides the garrison of a hundred and sixty men, were various refugees, driven like our family to the fort. And there, coming heartily from the commandant's quarters to receive me, was George Croghan, still a boy in appearance, though intrusted with this dangerous post. His long face had darkened like mine. We looked each other over with the quick and critical scrutiny of men who have not met since boyhood, and laughed as we grasped hands. "You are as welcome to the inside of this bear-pen," said Major Croghan, "as you made me to the outside of the one in the wilderness." "I hope you'll not give me such another tramp after shelter for the night as I gave you," I said. "The best in Fort Stephenson is yours. But your rest depends on the enemy. A runner has just come in from the General warning me Proctor and Tecumsch are turning their attention this way. I'm ordered to evacuate, for the post is considered too weak to hold." "How soon do you march?" "I don't march at all. I stay here. I'm going to disobey orders." "If you're going to disobey orders, you have good reason for doing so." "I have. It was too late to retreat. I'm going to fight. I hear, Lazarre, you know how to handle Indians in the French way." "My dear Croghan, you insinuate the American way may be better." "It is, on the western border. It may not be on the northern." "Then you would not have advised my attempting the Indians here?" "I shouldn't have discouraged it. When I got the secret order, I said: 'Bring the French--bring the missionaries--bring anything that will cut the comb of Tecumseh!'" "The missionaries and the French like being classed with--anything," I said. "We're Americans here," Croghan laughed. "The dauphin may have to fight in the ditch with the rest of us." "The dauphin is an American too, and used to scars, as you know. Can you give me any news from Green Bay in the Wisconsin country?" "I was ordered to Green Bay last year to see if anything could be done with old Fort Edward Augustus." "Does my Holland court-lady live there?" "Not now," he answered soberly. "She's dead." "That's bad," I said, thinking of lost opportunities. "Is pretty Annabel de Chaumont ever coming back from France?"