Jack was pondering on his mission to Tecumseh and on his failure to reach the Indian chief. Had he done right, he wondered, to quit his chosen trail, especially in view of Brito Telfair’s appearance on the scene? Could not Williams and his ammunition have reached Fort Wayne in safety without his aid? Would Rogers be able to do anything? Suppose he should never find this kinswoman of his? Suppose she lost her life by reason of his delay? For a moment his turning aside looked to him unnecessary, ridiculous, quixotic. Then he set his teeth. No! He had done right. Fort Wayne was of enormous importance to the country; on its holding might depend the safety of the whole northwest. The government had been mad to send ammunition without adequate escort through a possibly hostile country, but the madness of the government did not excuse him from doing what he could to retrieve the blunder and to stop the frightful consequences that might easily result from the murder of the Shawnee. Williams had been moving uneasily; he had had time to meditate on his position, and he had lost much of his confidence. Abruptly he spoke. “Say!” he said. “Can’t we fix this thing up before we get to Fort Wayne? ’Spose I did do wrong in shootin’ that Injun? ’Spose he did make a peace sign? I’d didn’t know it. He jumped outer those bushes and flung up his hand an’ I thought he was goin’ to jump us, an’ I banged loose without stoppin’ to think. It was my fault. I’ll own up. But it’s done an’ can’t be undone. What’s the use of stirrin’ things up?” Jack did not answer for a time. At last he spoke slowly, with the uncompromising severity of youth. “You committed a wanton murder,” he said, “a murder that caused the death of two men. It may be that you will get off scot free, considering the state of affairs. I rather think you will. But if you do, I tell you frankly it will be by no aid of mine. Now, you and Cato had better lie down and get some sleep. It’s late and we must start early tomorrow. I’ll keep watch.” Williams obeyed promptly, though surlily, slouching off to his blanket beneath the great leaning tree. Alagwa stared after him. “Will you not tie him?” she asked, incredulously. Jack chuckled. “Not I,” he said. “If he wants to slip away in the night, let him. It would save me some trouble. Go to bed, Cato.” Cato, however, demurred. “Ain’t you goin’ to let me help you watch, Mars’ Jack?” he questioned. Jack looked at him and grinned. “Think you can keep awake, Cato?” he asked. “Sure you won’t get to thinking about Mandy or Sue and go to sleep?” “Now, Mars’ Jack, you knows mighty well----” “I know mighty well you’ll do your best, Cato. Go lie down, now. I’ll call you at midnight and let you keep the midwatch.” When Cato had bedded himself down not far from Williams, Jack turned to Alagwa. “Are you ready for bed, youngster?” he asked. “If you’re not too sleepy, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”