“Who was it?” he asked, sharply.  “We have lost no men!”

“His name is Burns, sir.  I ran across him just back of the Kinzie house.”

“Burns?  Ol’ Tom Burns?”

“Yes, sir.”

Heald laughed, a look of evident relief on his haggard features.

“We shall not have to worry much as to his fate,” he said, turning toward Wells.  “You remember the fellow, William?  He was one of Mad Anthony’s scouts, and came west with you in 1803 when you first held council here.”

The other nodded, a twinkle of pleasant recollection in his eyes.  “Remember him?” he repeated.  “I am not likely ever to forget him.  He it was who brought me your message at Fort Wayne a month ago.  My sympathies in this case are entirely with the Indians.  There are likely to be things happening when Ol’ Tom is around, unless he has lost his versatility and nerve in recent years.  Come, my lad, give us the details of the story, for it must be worth the hearing if Ol’ Burns played a leading part.  He is as full of tricks as a dog of fleas.”

I repeated the story briefly, for I was now eager to be away before De Croix could dress and claim his wager.  I knew well the conceited coxcomb would never seek the presence of Mademoiselle until he had shed the rags he wore on entering the Fort.  I remember yet that throng of faces, anxious yet amused, peering over each other’s shoulders to get a better view of me as I talked, and constantly augmented as the word passed quickly about the garrison that we had safely returned from our midnight adventures.

“You will send aid to him?” I questioned, as I concluded, my eyes fixed appealingly upon Captain Heald.

“Not I,” was the prompt and decisive rejoinder.  “No soldier of this command shall leave the stockade until the hour for our final departure.  The fellow had a chance to come in here with the others before the gates were closed, but was obstinate as a mule, and must now take the consequences.  But you need not worry about Ol’ Tom, my boy; he ’ll circumvent those red devils in some way, you may rest assured, nor would he even thank us for interference.  I have no force with which to control the horde of savages that surround us here.  A clash of arms would be their excuse for immediate attack, and might mean death and torture to the whole garrison.  Our only hope lies in being permitted to pass out without armed collision; and to do this requires that we ignore such hidden deeds.  ’Twas a mad prank of yours last night, and might have involved us all in common ruin.  Go this time free, except for these words of censure; for you are not directly under my orders.  Another such attempt, subversive of all discipline, and the gates of Dearborn will be closed against you.”

These harsh expressions stung me, but I felt them in a measure merited, and made no reply.

“’T was but the act of a boy, Heald,” interposed Wells kindly, resting his hand upon my shoulder, “and you will find the lad well worth having when time of trial comes.”