little difficulty. A group of soldiers lounged at the open door of the
guard-house, and I paused a moment to speak with one, a curly-headed
lad, who sat smoking, his back resting easily against the logs.

"Are the outer gates ever opened at night?" I asked.

He glanced up at me in surprise, shading his eyes to be assured of my
identity before speaking.

"Scarcely either day or night now, sir," he replied, respectfully, "but
between sunset and sunrise they are specially barred, and a double
guard is set. No one can pass except on the order of Captain Heald."

"In which direction is the Kinzie house?"

He pointed toward the northeast corner of the stockade.

"It is just over there, sir, across the river. You might see the light
from the platform; beyond the shed yonder is the ladder that leads up
into the blockhouse."

Thanking him, I moved forward as directed, found the ladder, and pushed
my way up through the narrow opening in the floor of the second story.
The small square room, feebly lighted by a single sputtering candle
stuck in the shank of a bayonet, contained half a dozen men, most of
them idling, although two were standing where they could readily peer
out through the narrow slits between the logs. All of them were
heavily armed, and equipped for service. They looked at me curiously
as I first appeared, but the one who asked my business wore the
insignia of a corporal, and was evidently in command.