march forth on the morrow on that long and dangerous passage through the wilderness? Indeed, what hope could I cherish of aiding the young girl, if I now deserted these others, and endeavored alone to penetrate that Indian camp in search of her? Then came another thought. It was of Mademoiselle. It was this that effectually halted me. To whomsoever else she might have given her heart, she was still the one for whom I was most glad either to live or die; and in spite of De Croix, I would ride at her side on the morrow, within striking distance of any prowling hostile. Let the Matherson girl wait; my arm belonged first of all to the defence of Mademoiselle. Busied with these thoughts, and endeavoring to adjust this decision with my conscience, I passed out upon the platform, that I might look forth once more upon the moonlit waters of the lake. There were a few dim figures to be seen, leaning over the logs; but I supposed them to be members of the night-guard, and, feeling no desire for companionship, I halted in a lonely spot at the northeastern corner of the stockade. How desolate, how solemnly impressive, was the scene! To the north all was black in the dense night, the shadows of the scattering trees obscuring the faint glow of the moon and yielding little of detail to the searching eye. Even the single ray of light which the evening previous had blazed forth as a friendly beacon from the Kinzie home, was now absent. I could vaguely distinguish the dim outlines of the deserted house in the distance, and noticed a large boat moored close to the bank beneath the Fort stockade, doubtless the one in which the fugitives expected to venture out upon the lake on the morrow. It was the wide stretch of water, gleaming like silver, that fascinated me, as it always did in its numberless changing moods. What unutterable loneliness spoke to the soul in those unknown leagues of tossing sea! how far the eye wandered unchecked, searching vainly for aught to rest upon other than glistening surge or darkling hollow! The mystery of the ages lay unexpressed in those tossing billows, sweeping in out of the black east, making low moan to the unsympathetic and unheeding sky. Deeper and deeper the spirit of unrest, of doubt, of brooding discontent, weighed down upon me as I gazed; life seemed as aimless as that constant turmoil yonder, a mere silver-tinted heaving, destined to burst in useless power on a shore of rock, and then roll back again into the mighty deep. I leaned over the palisades, sunk deep in revery of home, recalling one by one the strange incidents of the last month that had so curiously conspired to cause a total upheaval of my life; and for the moment I grew oblivious of my surroundings. A mere lad, knowing little of himself and less of life, had ridden westward from the Maumee; a man, in thought and character, leaned now over that beleaguered stockade of Dearborn.