Alagwa’s heart fluttered. What did he want, this wonderful white man, this stranger who was yet a kinsman, this enemy with the friendly blue eyes? “I am not sleepy,” she faltered. “I won’t keep you up long. You know Tecumseh, of course?” Somehow the girl felt disappointed. “Yes,” she said. “I know him.” “Then,” Jack hesitated, “do you know a white girl that has grown up in his lodge--a girl a little older than yourself, I reckon. Her father died and left her with him about ten years ago. Do you know her?” What possessed Alagwa, she never knew. Perhaps it was merely the eternal feminine instinct to mislead the male. Almost without hesitation she answered. “Yes,” she said, slowly. “I have see her, but men do not associate with squaws. I see her little.” “What does she look like?” The girl shrugged her shoulders. “She is dark, very dark, darker than the Indians,” she said. “She has black eyes and square face. I not know she is white till some one tell me. She look like a Shawnee.” Jack’s face fell. “Oh! I say!” he exclaimed. “That’s too bad. I was told that she was very pretty.” The girl’s lip curled. “You not like her unless she is pretty?” she questioned, scornfully. Jack laughed. “Of course, I’ll like her whether she is pretty or not,” he answered. “She is a cousin of mine, and I’ll like her whatever she looks like. Do you know where she is now?” Alagwa hesitated. “I see her yesterday at Wapakoneta,” she answered. “You did! Then Tecumseh did not take her with him?” “No, Tecumseh took only warriors. Women do not go on the warpath. Why do you seek her?” The night had grown lighter. A silvery glimmer, resting on the tops of the trees above the river, showed that the moon was mounting. Against the sky the nearer branches waved gently, ebony laced on silver. Stray moonbeams spotted the lower branches. Jack stared at the mirror-like water for some time before he answered. At last, quite simply, he told the story. “You see, it’s a point of honor,” he finished. “Our branch is bound to help her branch, when need arises, just as Indian clan-brothers must help each other--a Wolf a Wolf, and a Panther a Panther. The Telfairs were a great house in France in their day, and this girl has great lands there. It is my duty to see that she comes to her own.” “But--but you do not seek her. You turn away and leave her.” “Don’t I know it?” Jack’s tones were desperate. “When I think--But I can’t help it. There are five thousand white women and children along this frontier whose lives might pay the forfeit if Fort Wayne should fall. And without the ammunition in this wagon--Oh! I’ve been over the problem again and again and there’s only one answer. I’ve got to get this wagon to Fort Wayne first and look for the girl afterwards. As soon as I have done that I will go back to hunt for her. Meanwhile I’ve sent word to Colonel Johnson and I’ve commissioned Tom Rogers to help him.”