“I don’t know,” Pritchard answered as he changed his axe from one shoulder to the other. “Some says he went back to his ol’ home in western Pennsylvany. Nobody ’pears to know. But wherever he went, that sneakin’ Canadian, George Hilliard, went along.” “And—and his daughter, Amy?” “Of course. But what’re you so concerned ’bout ’em fer, Ross Douglas? Oh! I see.”—And the settler smiled knowingly.—“I remember now you was sprucin up to that little gal o’ ol’ Sam’s. Well, I’m ’feared you’ve lost her, my boy. Hilliard was keepin’ the trail hot the same time you was, an’ you leavin’ when you did give him the short cut ’cross the clearin’. I ’spect he’s married her long ’fore this. The fact is, some folks says the couple was married on the sly, ’fore they left these parts. Of course, _I_ don’t know. But I must be gittin’ to work, ’r I won’t earn my dinner. I’ll see you at noon. You’re goin’ to stay ’round fer a few weeks, anyhow, ain’t you?” “I don’t know yet,” Douglas truthfully replied. The young man walked toward the collection of cabins not far away, leaving his companion staring after him. “If I ain’t bad fooled,” Pritchard muttered as he entered the woods, “that young feller is purty much in love with ol’ Sam Larkin’s gal; an’ her goin’ off the way she did is worryin’ him like all possessed.” For several days Douglas lingered about the village. He visited the Wyandot camp up the river; but found it abandoned. His red friends had left for parts unknown. Undoubtedly some of them had cast in their lots with Tecumseh, and were aiding in harassing the posts and settlements upon the extreme frontier. During his brief stay at Franklinton, Ross made many cautious inquiries concerning the whereabouts of Amy Larkin and her father; but he learned nothing more definite than what Pritchard had told him. Many times he had heard his sweetheart speak of her birthplace in western Pennsylvania; and now he resolved to visit that section of the country. He discarded his well-worn suit of buckskin, for garments of homespun cloth; and, with his rifle upon his shoulder and his bloodhound at his heels, set out upon his quest. After an absence of four months, he again returned to the settlement upon the Scioto, having learned nothing of the persons he sought. General Harrison was now commander-in-chief of the Western armies. He had established temporary headquarters at Franklinton, and was busily engaged in collecting and forwarding supplies toward the lakes. Douglas was greatly pleased to learn of his beloved commander’s presence in the village, and immediately repaired to his quarters. The general was surprised and delighted to see him, and said: “Ross Douglas, I can’t express how glad I am to meet you again—to see you alive and well. When you fell into the hands of the Indians at Tippecanoe, I gave you up for lost. You appear as one from the grave. Where have you been, how did you escape, and what of your faithful comrades?”