“Dang-it-all-to-dingnation!” shouted Joe Farley. “Let the black deserter go. I wish I had my ol’ rifle out o’ the wagon, fer jest a minute! I jest hope the redskins ’ll roast an’ eat him. It’ll do two good things—be the end o’ the nigger-traitor, an’ kill the Injins. _Dang_ a nigger, anyhow!” Governor Harrison’s attention was attracted by the hubbub and he inquired the cause of it. “One of the negro ox-drivers employed by the contractor has left his team and entered the Indian village,” explained an aide at the governor’s elbow. “What’s the fellow’s name?” Harrison asked quickly. “I don’t know, governor.” “Send Ross Douglas to me at once,” was the sharp command. The aide obeyed. And soon the young scout was at the commander’s side. “What’s the black’s name, who just went over to the Indians?” Harrison asked, bending down until his face was on a level with Douglas’s. “Ben,” was the curt reply. “The same of whom you told me?” “The same, governor.” “Lieutenant”—addressing an officer of his staff—“go and bring the negro back. Take with you a squad of men—and yonder Wyandot, as interpreter.” Then again turning to Ross: “Have you seen that man Bradford, to-day?” “I have not, governor.” “Do you know what has become of him?” Douglas silently shook his head. A fierce scowl darkened the commander’s face as he said in a low tone: “Nor do I—but I have an opinion. He’s an infernal traitor—and has deserted. I have no doubt that at this moment he’s in the Prophet’s Town. Dark and devilish treachery is afoot. But thanks to you, my young friend, I shall not be taken by surprise. When I again have that man before me, I shall know how to deal with him. The black is a mere tool—an ignorant dupe. Keep your knowledge to yourself. I’ll defeat Bradford’s purpose—whatever it may be.” The army reached the elevated piece of ground three-quarters of a mile from the village, and went into camp. It was late in the evening. The sun was sinking in a bank of dun-colored clouds—an indication of a dark and rainy night. The teamsters disposed of their wagons, as on the previous evening. Wood and water in abundance were near at hand, for a clear creek, bordered by trees and bushes, flowed at the rear of the camp. Night shut down and a drizzling rain began to fall. But supper was under way, and the appetizing odors of broiling meat and boiling coffee cheered the hearts and loosened the tongues of the tired men. The merry snap and crackle of dancing flames drowned the doleful voice of the wind sweeping across the open prairie and soughing among the scrubby trees.