Hibbs glared at Stickney; then he glanced at Alagwa and his eyes grew scornful. “News!” he growled. “I suppose you got it from that worthless scamp”--he gestured at Bondie--“and from that d--d Indian-bred cub. To h--l with such news. I wouldn’t believe such dogs on oath.” “You’ve got to believe them this time. I doubted the news myself at first, but now I am convinced that it is true. Send away your boon companions and listen.” Captain Hibbs threw himself back in his chair. In the flickering candle light his blotched features writhed and twisted. “I haven’t any secrets from my friends,” he growled. “Spit out your news, or get out of here yourself. Likely it’s some cock and bull story.” Stickney shrugged his shoulders. After all, why should he care who heard what he had to say? The news could not be suppressed. On the morrow it would be known to all, and it might as well be told at once. With a tense energy, born perhaps of the ague that was racking his body and of the weakness that he realized was fast overcoming him, he spoke. “Spit it out?” he echoed. “By God! I will spit it out! Do you know that while you are revelling here the Pottawatomies are dancing over the dead bodies of Captain Wells, Captain Heald, and all the men, women, and children who were at Fort Dearborn? Do you know that General Hull has surrendered Detroit and twenty-five hundred men to the British? Do you know that in two days this fort will be surrounded by redskins and all communication between it and the outside world will be cut off. Do you know that the British are preparing to bring cannon up the Maumee to batter down your walls? Do you know this, Lieutenant Hibbs, you to whose care this fort and the honor of the country have been committed?” Stickney staggered and clutched at the edge of the table for support. His strength was failing him. But his work was done. As he spoke the jeers of his auditors died away and silence fell. Alagwa, watching, could see the drink dying out of the faces of the listeners. Suddenly Mr. Hibbs staggered to his feet. His atramentous face had grown pale; his nostrils twitched; his chin sagged. “It’s a lie!” he blustered; “a lie cooked up by yonder dog and by that half-breed cub. It’s a lie.” Stickney’s fever had come upon him and he was shaking in its grip. “It’s no lie,” he gasped. “It’s the truth! And there’s no time to lose. Preparations must be made this very night to send away the women and children, and to make the fort ready for a siege.” Hibbs’s eyes widened. “Tonight?” he gasped. “You’re mad, Stickney, mad.” His voice came clearer. The news had well-nigh sobered him. “If this news is confirmed----”