“Let my brother listen,” he said. “A month ago a runner from Tecumseh came to me where I dwelt far away on the big sea water to the south. He sent me this belt”--Jack held out the belt--“and he called upon me as a member of the Panther clan, raised up by his mother, Methoataske, to come to Wapakoneta and receive there at his hands a white maiden, Alagwa by name, a kinswoman of my own, who had dwelt in his lodge since the death of her father, the chief Delaroche. Knows my brother of this maiden?” Blue Jacket bowed. “I know her,” he said. Jack resumed. “For her I come,” he said. “But I find Tecumseh gone. Know you where he has placed the maiden?” Blue Jacket did not answer at once. Apparently he was turning the matter over in his mind. Through the hole in the canvas Alagwa watched him narrowly, hanging on his words quite as anxiously as did Jack. At last he beckoned a boy to his side and gave him instructions in a low voice. Then he turned to Jack. “The maiden was at Wapakoneta in Tecumseh’s lodge yesterday,” he said. “I would say that she was there still but that another white chief--a chief from the north wearing a red coat--came to me an hour ago from Wapakoneta asking tidings of her.” “A white chief? In a red coat?” Jack gasped. The redcoat officer could be only Brito, but that he should dare to come down from Canada in the existing state of international affairs took Jack’s breath away. “Did he find her?” he asked. “Where is he?” “He has not found her. He is still here. I have sent for him.” Blue jacket pointed. “He comes!” he finished. Advancing through the Indian village came a big man in the uniform of a British officer. Alagwa recognized him instantly as he who had claimed kinship with her only the day before. Easily and gracefully he strode along the path toward the wagon. As he drew near his eyes singled out Jack. “Ah!” he said, halting. “You have news of the girl, fellow? Let me have it at once!” Jack flushed hotly. He was young--not half the age of the man who was addressing him--and he lacked the easy assurance that the other had gained by years of experience in the great world. Bitterly he resented Captain Brito’s tones, but he tried to keep himself in check. He must uphold the blood of the American Telfairs but he must not play the boor before this fashionable cousin of his. “Your pardon, sir!” he said, deliberately, “but to whom have I the honor of speaking.” In his voice was an uncontrollable catch, born of excitement. Captain Brito stared. “Well! I’m d--d,” he exclaimed, laughing shortly. “If the fellow doesn’t take himself seriously! Come! My good man; I haven’t time for nonsense. Where is the girl?” Jack met his eyes squarely. His agitation was dying away and his nerves were momently steadying. “First, you will please to answer my question,” he said. “Who are you?”