Camp was rapidly pitched, the horses fed and picketed for the night, and supper prepared and eaten. By the time it was finished darkness had closed in. The moon was not yet up, though promise of it was silvering the unquiet tops of the eastern forest. But on the exposed point the glimmer of the blazing stars gave light enough to see. Jack stood up. “The first watch is yours, Cato,” he said. “Call me about midnight.” “Bob,” he turned to the girl, “as you want to watch so badly, I’ll call you about two o’clock. I needn’t caution you both to be careful.” Alagwa was tired and she slept deeply and dreamlessly. She did not share Jack’s fears. Even though she knew her message could not yet have reached Tecumseh, she felt secure under the aegis of his protection. Nevertheless, when Jack waked her and she saw the low moon staring at her along the western water, she went to her post at the edge of the rampart determined to keep good watch and make sure that no wanderer of the night should creep upon the camp unawares. From where she sat she could see along both rivers--down the Maumee to the east and up the Auglaize to the south. Up the latter, lay her home at Wapakoneta, a scant twenty miles away. All her travels for the past few days had been west and east again, westward out one leg of a triangle, and then eastward down the other leg, and the net gain of one hundred and fifty miles march, west and east, had been only a score of miles north. Toward Wapakoneta she strained her eyes, not solely because it was her home, but because if danger came at all it would come from its direction. Tecumseh and his braves had come down the Auglaize less than a week before and laggards might follow him at any time. Or, perhaps, Captain Brito might come north; Alagwa knew that Jack doubted his having left the country. The dawn was beginning to break. The boles of the trees began to stand separately out; the leaves took on a tinge of green. Over all reigned silence. No faintest sound gave warning of approaching enemies. But the girl well knew that silence did not mean safety. Too often had she heard the Shawnee braves boast of how they crept on their sleeping enemies in the dawn. With renewed determination she thrust forward her heavy rifle and strained her eyes and ears anew. Jack had trusted her; she must not fail him. Suddenly she started. Was something moving beside the great council oak or was it a mere figment of her overstrained nerves. The horses were moving uneasily; now and then they snorted. Did they scent something? Alagwa remembered that more than once she had heard the Shawnee braves complain that the sleeping whites had been awakened by their uneasy horses.