Douglas presented his pass to the guard at the corner blockhouse. The soldier glanced at it and silently stepped aside. Ross entered the large unfloored room and looked about him. The place was damp and gloomy; the pent air was musty and offensive. A number of whites and Indians were sprawling upon the bare ground. In one of the farther corners was a solitary individual. Ross made his way toward him. By the murky light that struggled in at the loopholes and crevices, the young man recognized Hiram Bradford. At the same instant, the older man recognized the newcomer and, arising to his feet, held out his hand, saying: “Ross Douglas, I’m glad to see you. I’m overjoyed to know you escaped death in yesterday’s battle.” “I’m glad to meet you, Bradford,” Ross replied; “but I’m sorry to meet you here.” “I understand,” Bradford returned coolly. “Sit down. I’ve something of importance to tell you.” They seated themselves upon a puncheon bench that stood against the log wall. Douglas noted the marked change in his companion’s appearance. The older man’s hair was white as snow; his face, lean and cadaverous; his figure, emaciated and bent. Noticing Ross’s commiserating look, Bradford remarked: “Yes, I’m changed, Douglas—greatly changed. An incurable malady is rapidly sapping my vitality. I’ve but a short time to live—even if I escape death at the hands of your commander, which I don’t expect. You saw General Harrison before you came here?” “I did.” “Did he say what disposition would be made of me?” “He—he said you wouldn’t be exchanged,” Ross stammered. “It’s unnecessary to say more,” Bradford returned calmly. “He intends to court-martial me—to have me shot as a spy and deserter. Well, according to the usages of war, I deserve the fate. It’s best that I should die so. It’s a fitting climax to a misspent life. I have but a short time to live at best—a few days can make no difference. And a sudden, painless death is to be preferred to one of lingering torture from a slow disease.” Then, seeing the pained look upon Douglas’s face: “Tut-tut, my boy! Don’t grieve over my fate. I tell you it is best that I should die so. But I don’t care to talk of it; it’s just a little _unwelcome_ to contemplate.” Here he paused and smiled feebly. A lump rose in Ross’s throat; he could say nothing in reply. Bradford asked quickly: “Where have you been since you escaped from the village upon the Mississinewa?” Douglas found his voice, and told his companion of his wanderings and adventures. When the younger man had finally finished, the older remarked: “It was well that La Violette helped you to escape; otherwise, the treacherous Indians would have killed you. When I returned to the village and found you gone, I was furious; but La Violette explained the situation to me—and I was satisfied. Immediately, I took the dear girl with me and went to Canada. Then I instituted search for you. I sent a messenger to your old home at Franklinton——”