might dread the date of his execution," and his grave eyes wandered
toward his young wife, as if fearful his words might be overheard by
her. "There are other lives than mine endangered, and their peril
makes duty doubly hard."

"Lieutenant," I said, recalled to my own mission by these words, "I
myself am seeking to be of service to one here,--the young daughter of
one Roger Matherson, an old soldier who died at this post last month.
He was long my father's faithful comrade in arms, and with his dying
breath begged our care for his orphan child. It has come to us as a
sacred trust, and I was despatched upon this errand. Can you tell me
where this girl is to be found?"

Before he could frame a reply, for he was somewhat slow of speech, his
wife, who had turned from De Croix, and was listening with interest to
my story, spoke impulsively.

"Why, we have been wondering, Mr. Wayland, where she could have gone.
Not that we have worried, for she is a girl well able to care for
herself, and of a most independent spirit. She disappeared very
suddenly from the Fort several days ago; we supposed she must have gone
with my mother when Mr. Kinzie took his family back to their home."

"With Mr. Kinzie?" I questioned, for at that moment I could not recall
hearing the name. "May I ask where that home is?"

"He is the very good step-father of my wife, and one she loves as truly
as if he were her own father," answered Helm, warmly; "a man among a
thousand. Mr. Kinzie is an Indian trader, and has been here for
several years, if indeed he be not the first white settler, for old