down the open space, and fronted our advance.

"I presume this is Captain Wells, from Fort Wayne?" he said, lifting
his cap as he spoke.

"It is," was the reply, "and I am very glad to find that you still hold
Fort Dearborn."

The other's frank and boyish face darkened slightly, as if at an
unpleasant memory.

"'T is no fault of some," he muttered hastily; then he checked himself.
"We are glad to greet you, Captain Wells," he added, in a more formal
tone, glancing about upon us, "and your party. I am Ensign Ronan, of
the garrison; and if you will kindly pass between my guard lines, you
will find Captain Heald awaiting you within."

Thus we rode freely forward, with the guarding soldiery on either side
of us, their faces to the howling savages; we passed in at the great
southern gate, and halted amid the buildings of old Fort Dearborn.




CHAPTER XI

OLD FORT DEARBORN

It makes my old head dizzy to recall the events of that hour across the
years that have intervened. Possibly I, as I write these words, am the