“You really must marry me, little comrade!” he pleaded. “Don’t you see you must. You--You’ve been with me for more than a month and--and--You remember what I said to you while we were riding down the Maumee--about a girl getting talked about if she--I said if the man didn’t marry her he ought to be shot. You remember? You won’t put me in such a position? Oh! You really must marry me!” But the girl shook her head. “No!” she said, firmly. “No!” She held out her hand. “Good-by!” she said. “Good-by?” Jack’s mouth fell open. “What do you mean?” Alagwa’s pale lips curved into a smile. “Has the white chief forgotten?” she asked. “The hour is almost done and I must go from the fort. And you must stay.” “Stay? I stay and you--Good Lord! My dear young woman, understand once for all that when you go out of this fort I go too. Either you marry me and stay, or we both go. That’s flat.” Alagwa paled. “But you can not go with me,” she cried. “I--I will not marry you, and if you travel with me now it--it would compromise me.” “Piffle!” Jack shrugged his shoulders, utterly heedless of his change of attitude. “If you go, I go too.” “But--but it is death. Indeed, indeed, it is death.” “All right!” Jack saw his advantage and pressed it hard. “All right, death it is, then.” Alagwa’s eyes filled with tears. Desperately she wrung her hands. “Oh! You are a coward! A coward to treat me so,” she sobbed. “All right. I’m a coward.” Jack made the admission cheerfully. “But I’m going with you--unless you marry me and stay here.” The door swung open, letting in the night. The parade ground was aglow. Men with lanterns came and went. Wagons were being hurriedly piled with luggage. Double lines of sentries guarded the walls. Evidently Lieutenant Hibbs had obtained confirmation enough to alarm him and was preparing for the worst. As Jack glanced through the doorway Rogers entered, ushering in a man who could be no one except Father Francisco. Behind trooped Fantine and Cato, and back of them came Captain Hibbs, with Williams at his heels. For a moment the captain glowered at the scene. “Tie them up, Father,” he rasped. “The hour’s nearly gone, and, by God, I’ll keep my word.” Jack turned to the girl. “Which is it to be, little comrade,” he asked. With a sudden gesture of surrender the girl faced him. “Swear you will never regret--never regret--never regret----” Her voice trailed away. “Regret? Of course not. Come, Father! We’re ready.”