Ross Douglas left the blockhouse, where he had found the father he had never known, and at a rapid pace walked toward General Harrison’s quarters. The young man’s countenance reflected his contending emotions—the varied and exciting experiences through which he had gone. He was glad he had learned La Violette’s history—but sorry he had heard of his father’s misspent life; he rejoiced at the thought that the sweet girl loved him, that he loved her, that she was to be his wife—yet he grieved over his father’s impending fate. Then, also, he sincerely pitied Amy Hilliard, and worried that La Violette was still among the British and Indians. Indeed, his heart was torn and bleeding! On reaching the commander’s tent, he pushed past the orderlies at the door and stood in the General’s presence. He was preoccupied and did not stop for ceremony, but said abruptly: “General, I have seen Hiram Bradford, and have returned, as you ordered.” Harrison was closely studying a map that lay spread out upon a rough table before him. Without looking up, he made reply: “And you found him much changed?” “In many ways, General.” The commander lifted his head and answered sharply: “I noted no change in the scoundrel, except in his appearance. His health is broken; but he is the same cool, unscrupulous, defiant knave.” Ross winced, but sturdily returned: “We didn’t observe alike, General Harrison. I found him in ill-health, weak, repentant——” The hero of Tippecanoe whirled about upon his stool. His rugged face darkened ominously. A storm was brewing. “My young friend,” he interrupted in hard, cold tones, “you talk as if you came to plead his case.” “I came to intercede in his behalf,” Ross replied calmly. General Harrison sprang to his feet, his face black with rage. “By heavens!” he cried. “You are——” Then the grizzled warrior stopped suddenly. He bit his thin lips—and was silent. At last he said quietly, but firmly: