CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY GIFT OF Prof. Guy E. Grantham Cornell Oniverslty Library PS 24S9.N273U5 Under Mad Anthony's banner / 3 1924 022 151 926 Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31 9240221 51 926 "General, the man you seek stands before you" (Page 8i) UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER BY JAMES BALL NAYLOR AUTHOR OF " The Sign of the Trophet, " "In the ^ays of St. Clair," Ed., Ed. ILLUSTRATED BY C. M. CO OLID GE AKRON, OHIO The SAALFIELD PUBLISHING CQ. NEW YORK J903 CHICAGO coptkioht, i90], Tbb SAAI.I'IBI.D FUBI^ISHING coupany. To the memory of Gen. Anthony Wayne tuho safvedthe Northtuest Territory far his country and furthered the tuesi- •ward march of ci-oilization this book is gratefully dedicated, ^c LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE " General, the man you seek stands before you " Frontisfiece A plump, fair-faced, little woman sprang over the sill and nestled in his arms .... 90 With a bold and, fearless glance he swept the sea of faces before him 190 They reached camp in the cool of a summer's evening, and were safe under the protect- ing folds of Mad Anthony's banner . . 300 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER CHAPTER I. Time — The middle of November, 1791. Scene — A creek valley in what is now the lower part of Jeiferson county, Ohio, fifteen miles from the settle- ment of Wheeling upon the Virginia shore of the Ohio river. Over hill and dale stretched the unbroken forest. The bare-boughed trees huddled closely t<^ether and shivered at the touch of the crisp morning breeze. In vain the rising sun poured its slanting- rays upon the brown earth and sought to warm the hazy atmosphere. The brawling brook that rushed headlong toward the great river two miles away glinted angrily in the smoky light and murmured sullenly of its never-ending journey. A rustle of the fallen leaves— and a gray squirrel, with whisk- ing tail and furious chatter, hurriedly scampered to his hole in a hollow oak. There he glued his eyes to the circular doorway of his domicile and keenly 6 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. watched the movements of a red fox that had scared him away from his breakfast among the dead leaves. The fox, with sidelong movements and furtive glances, disappeared among the underbrush, and the squirrel again descended to his breakfast. Upon the dead limb of a giant beech, a crow cawed lustily, pausing at intervals to listen' to the answering call of a distant companion or to bend his black orbs upon a saucy woodpecker flitting and hammering beneath him. Upon a narrow strip of bottom-land a few rods from the bank of the stream, stood a solitary cabin of unhewn, logs. A translucent column of blue smoke ascended from the mud-daubed chimney and lost itself among the gray boiighs overarching the rude habitation. A gaunt deerhound lay curled upon the puncheon doorstep, and from a pole- fenced enclosure back of the house came the grunting of a fat and contented porker. A cowbell tinkled in the clearing farther up the stream. The cabin door swung inward, and a man, bend- ing his tall form, stepped out upon the ground. We use the term advisedly. Hal Barton — English refu- gee and American pioneer — was a man. Six-feet- two in height and weighing over two hundred pounds, he towered above his fellows, as the oak above brambles. His carriage was erect; his step, elastic. Great bunches of muscles rounded his hips, shoulders and limbs, but not an ounce of surplus tissue marred the symmetry of his form. He was UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 7 twenty-five years old and knew not the meaning of ill-health or fatigue. His smooth face, tanned a red-brown by exposure, was fair — a face to win a woman's heart and his laughing blue eyes, through which his reliant self looked out, scorning alike frowns and favors, sparkled with keen intel- ligence. A mane of tawny hair rippling over his broad shoulders added to his leonine appearance. He sniffed the cool air and swept his eyes around the forest scene. Then, leaning his gun against the log wall and pushing his fur cap far b^ck, he held out his brawny arms toward the open doorway, cry- ing cheerily : "Come, Margaret — come, lass — a kiss before I go. The sun 's an hour high and I must be off." A plump, fair-faced little woman sprang over the sill and nestled in his arms. He brushed the brown hair away from her white forehead and gazed lov- ingly down upon her. Then he laughingly bent and kissed her, at the same time playfully wiping the tears from her brown eyes with the fringed skirt of his hunting shirt. "Don't cry, lass — don't cry," he murmured sooth- ingly. "I'll be back by mid-afternoon and bring yoU the cloth for a new frock. There — ^there, dry your eyes and be your own brave self." "But it — is so lonely — when you are gone, Hal," the young wife said, vainly trying to control her sobs ; "and you're gone so much, hunting and trap- ping " 8 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. "Working for you, lass/' he interrupted, a cloud momentarily overspreading liis features. "I know — I know," she hastily assented. Then, drying her eyes, she locked her soft fingers around his big brown hand and smiled up at him : "See, I am brave now. You'll be back by mid- afternoon, Hal?" He nodded, but a faraway look was in his eyes. "What is it?" she asked timidly. "Are you happy with me ?" he returned suddenly. "What a question, Hal. To be sure I am." "Just a little ' lonely at times, eh?" "Only when you're gone." "You wouldn't wish to leave me and return to the mansion across the waters — ^the luxury that might have been yours?" "You doubt me ?" she cried, the red blood rushing to her cheeks as she attempted to draw away from him. But he caught her to his bosom and, smothering her with passionate kisses, laughed boisterously; "Only a joke, lass — only a joke ! Be brave a little longer. The country is settling rapidly; soon we shall have neighbors in plenty. But I must be off. Nothing can harm you, but don't leave the house. Goodby." Giant that he was, he set her within the cabin; and, snatching up his gun and bundle of peltries, strode away. She waved a farewell to him as he disappeared among the trees; then she closed the UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 9 ptihchedn dcrar atod returned to her household duties, softly humming a song and smiling as though her thoughts were pleasant, whether of the future or of the past. Hal Barton did not pause until he reached the mouth of the creek, two miles from his cabin. A moment he stood upon the shore and looked out upon the bfoad bosom of the beautiful river. Then he dragged a dugout from its hiding-place among the willows that fringed the bank, and, embarking, paddled swiftly down the stream toward the Wheel- ing settlement. A stiff breeze rippled the surface of the water and lent aid to his efforts. Although it was NOveinber and the air was biting, he threw off his cap andj impatiently tossing the hair from his forehead, dipped the paddle into the turbid flood and; shot the light vessel forward with the speed of a racehorse. His great muscular arms swung with! the regularity of a pendulum. The water swirled at the bow and danced in a foaming wake behind; him. With an exhilaration born of healthful exer- cise and rapidity of motion, he laughed softly to himself as he bent to the work. Like a swiftly shift- ing panorama, the landscape flew past-^a landscape of dfeary, leafless forest. He narrowly escaped wreck upon a half-submerged treetop. The spice ol danger but lent zest to his k^en enjoyment. Suddenly turning a sharp bend in -the river, he saw a large canoe containing four occupants labori- ously stemming the current upon the Virginia shore. 10 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. Not knowing whether they were friends or foes, Hal dropped his paddle, looked to the priniing of his long rifle, and loosened the knife in his belt. Then he resumed his course, but kept close to the Ohio shore and warily watched the movements of the strangers. As the two crafts drew closer together, he noted that three of the men were wielding pad- dles and that the fourth, who occupied the stern, was dressed in the uniform of the United States army. "Must be some officer from the blockhouse at Wheeling," he thought. "No, it can't be ; there are but a few soldiers there at present. And what would an officer be doing away from the fort? May be carrying a dispatch to Fort Steuben or Fort Pitt." Placing his hands to his mouth, he sent ringing across the water a loud halloo. A lusty cheer came back in reply. "Whence do you hail?" "From Fort Washington," replied the officer in the stern. Hal turned the course of his dugout and paddled rapidly toward them, muttering under his breath : "From Fort Washington! They have news of St. Clair's army, then. I hope he has succeeded in subduing the Indians and driving them out of the Maumee valley. No white settler will be safe in the Northwest territory until the savages have been taught a wholesome lesson." UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. ii As he drew near the strangers' craft, he could re- strain his excitement no longer, and cried : "What's the news from St. Clair's army ?" A wave of sadness overswept the face of the young officer, as he replied : "General St. Clair's army has been cut to pieces." "What!" And Barton almost leaped from his frail vessel. "It's too true. I'm on my way to the seat of gov- ernment with dispatches containing full particu- lars." The three paddlers ceased their efforts, and Hal's canoe floated alongside. "When did it happen?" he asked in a subdued tone. "Tell me all about it." The officer closely scrutinized the questioner a moment before replying. Then he inquired : "You're an American?" "By adoption-^— yes." "And by birth?" "An Englishman." A fierce scowl contorted the military man's feat- ures, as he cried fiercely : "Then I've naught to tell you. Had it not been for your nation aiding and abetting the savages, there would have been no necessity of an Indian war; and hundreds of brave men whose bones lie unburied in the forest would now be alive." Hal Barton's face flushed and his huge frame quivered with anger and excitement. The veins 12 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. upon his neck and temples stood out like cords, and his tawny mane bristled. "England and the English!" he roared. "You can never know the fierce, implacable hate that I bear them, although I'm of their blood. I've greater cause to hate the mother country than you or any American has. Am I not a fugitive from her tyr- anny ? I'm an American by adoption only — but an American to the core!" The three paddlers slapped their thighs and shout- ed ; arid the officer smilingly held out his hand, say- ing: "I'm sorry I probed an old sore, my friend, but pleased to hear you say you're an American, and glad to take your hand and call you friend. We have need of such men as you. Now I'm ready to answer your questions. The battle with the Indians occurred on the fourth of this month. It was a surprise and a slaughter. As I've told you, St. Clair's army was cut to pieces, and retreated to Fort Wash- ington in sad disorder. English gold bought the lives of American freemen. We left Little Turtle and his braves in undisputed possession of the field. Nine hundred scalped and mutilated Americans are food for the wolves. It's an awful thing — a nation- al calamity." For a full minute the five men were silent. Bar- ton's breath came hard and fast. At last he jerked out: UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. i3 "You say the English government has aided the Indians — ^how ?" "By furnishing them the sinews of war — ^arftis and ammunition." "What will our government do?" "I don't know. But I must be moving; a long, toilsome journey lies before me. Goodby." Again the two men so strangely met shook hands — and parted. When the two canoes had sw€pt a few yards apart, the young officer turned and called after Hal : "What's your name, friend ?" "Hal Barton." "And mine's Captain Edward Axline. Goodby." Barton's thoughts, as he resumed his journey down the river, were graVe, "It's well my nest in the woods is near two forts," they ran. "But then they have withdrawn most of the troojps and the others will have to go as soon as a new campaign is organized. I don't fear for myself — ^but Margaret — '■ — " The light of love irradiated his countenance, as he murmured his wife's name. "Well, I'll do the best I cah to protect her. In the future I must not be away from the cabin so much. If my services are needed, I'll take her to a place of safety and enlist." It was near midday when he came in sight of the Wheeling settlement. A number of settlers were byilding a boat at the water's edge. They appeared 14 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. to be greatly excited about something, for they had laid down their tools and were all talking and gestic- ulating at the same time. As Hal leaped ashore ajid drew his dugout upon the beach, he heard one of them remark : "It's a 'tarnal shame, so it is; and England's to blame fer it. I'll tell you what this country's got to do. She's got to give them cussed Britishers an- other lickin' — an' the sooner it's done the better. Men mowed down like ripe wheat by the bloody' redskins ; it makes my blood bile ! An' here's the gover'ment talkin' 'bout a peace policy. Peace! Great peace there'll be 'long as ther's Injins with Britishers' guns in the'r hands." "Yes," supplemented another, "all you say's true — an' more. Think of it ! Here we are today at the mercy of any band o' prowlin' red devils. The gov- er'ment talks peace till the Injins is fat an' sassy on Britishers' beef sent in from 'cross the lakes, an' ready to raise the devil gener'ly." "Then she 'draws all the soldiers from the fron- tier posts, sends 'em out into the Injin country to be massacred, an' leaves our v/omen an' children defenseless. That's a great peace policy, I say. Won't even 'low us to strike a blow in our own de- fense. Didn't that ol' tyrant. General Harmer, put Lew Wetzel in prison, jest 'cause he killed an Injin? An' Wetzel's the greatest Injin-fighter that' ever lived. He's done more to pr'tect the settlers an' the'r fam'lies than ol' General Harmer an' his whole UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 15 army. All he ever done was to git a lot of men killed an' scalped — ^jest like St. Clair's done. A hun- dred men like Lew Wetzel 'd whip more redskins than the Britishers could send ag'inst 'em." Barton had approached the men unobserved, and stood listening to their inflammatory talk. A large, beef-faced, scant-haired indiyidual stepped from the log he had been scoring, and rolling up his sleeves and cracking his fists together, shouted: "You can bet y'r last shillin' Lew Wetzel's a great Injin-fighter — an' he's a good rough-an'-tumble fighter, too. He can whip any two Injins 'tween here an' the Mississip', single-handed; an' he can trounce any ugly-mugged Englishman that ever set foot on American soil. I've wras'led with him an' hunted with him, an' I know him like a book." "Don't know 'bout Wetzel whippin' any English- man that ever set foot on American soil," inter- rupted a stoop-shouldered, bandy-legged little man, lighting his pipe and composedly seating himself upon a boat gunwale. "They grow some purty big men over the water. Take Hal BartoUj fer in- stance " "Hal Barton !" sneered the beef-faced man. "He's nothin' but a lump o' mud. I could whip him my- self, with one hand tied behind me. Cuss him 1 I don't like him anyhow. He don't talk like other people, he don't act like other people. He's 'risto- cratic, he won't even take a dram o' rum with a l6 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. body. He's all blow an' bluster — like the wind; an' if ever he comes blowin' 'round me, I'll — " "What will you do?" It was Barton who spoke. Coolly stepping from behind the pile of timber that had partially con- cealed him, he faced the braggart and smilingly asked the question. The beef-faced man's jaw dropped and he took a step backward. There he stood staring at the unexpected arrival, in speech- less amazement. Terror was depicted upon his countenance, and his toil-hardened hands shook. His companions slapped their thighs and roared in glee at his predicament. "What will you do?" repeated Hal, advancing upon the abashed coward. The English giant was smiling still, but a mischievous glint was in his blue eyes. "I — I was jest jokin'. Barton," stammered the man, attempting to back away. "I saw you behind the — the timber, an' was — ^was jest braggin' to fool " Roars of laughter cut short his lame apology. Hal sprang forward, and, seizing the cringing wretch by the neck aiid belt, cried laughingly : "At any rate, you need a bath." And with the words, he tossed the wildly strug- gling man into the river. Then, waving an adieu to the others, who were indulging in all sorts of antics as they watched their shivering, sputtering UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. i/ companion crawling up the sljjelving bank, be picked up his rifle and bundle of peltries and saun- tered away toward the cluster of huts that consti- tuted the settlement. He noted that the few soldiers at the fort were busily engaged in cleaning the old swivel-gun and scouring their own pieces. At the trader's store he bartered his peltries for cloth and ammunition; and a half hour later he was stemming the current in an endeavor to reach home ere nightfall. Once only he stopped ; but that was to aid a company of emigrants whose barge was aground on a sandbar and not to rest his tireless arms. The lower sank the sun, the swifter dipped his paddle. He was ill at ease; his mind was disturbed by what he had seen and heard. For the first time he realized the defenseless con- dition of the frontier settlements. As he reached the mouth of the creek and secreted his dugout in its accustomed hiding place, he resolved that he would not again leave Margaret alone for so long a time. "What if harm, has come to her today 1" was the thought that intruded itself and lent wings to his feet, as he sped through the fast-darkening forest. The sun had disappeared behind the western hills and the fringe of night's garment swept the earth. The cabin had a somber and deserted look. No welcoming light beamed from chink or cranny. i8 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. His heart pulsating witH unspoken fear, he sprang forward and pushed open the door. The fire on the hearth had gone out — ^the cabin was deserted ! CHAPTER II. Hal Barton's fears were realized. Some harm had befallen his wife. He called her name. The only reply he received was the echo of his own voice among the rafters. He felt his way to the bed in the corner, thinking that she might have fallen ill in his absence. She was not there. Again he called hef name in a louder voice. No answer. Then he rushed out of doors, shouting: "Mar- garet! O, Margaret!" Far up the hillslope he heard the mocking echo: "Margatet!" Like a mad man he rushed to and fro in the dark- ness, wildly hallooing her name. The fat porker in the enclosure back of the house squealed for his supper. Under the shed of poles and brush, the gentle cow tinkled her bell and mooed. Hal stopped calling and listened intently. A weird moaning came to his ears, from afar up the valley. It was the winter wind among the trees. A storm was approaching. The heavens grew black as inkj 20 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. and the darkness was intense. The moaning, shrieking sound drew nearer. A few drops of rain pattered upon the dead leaves. He started, and, holding his throbbing temples in both hands, groaned in agony of spirit: "My God! What am I to do? Where can she be?" The storm was upon him. Raindrops beat upon the cabin roof ; the wind shrieked and whistled down the valley. He sought the doorway for shelter and vainly tried to collect his wits. He could not think — ^his brain was on fire — his heart was ice. Over and over he upbraided himself for his prolonged absence. Hark ! What was that sound ? It was repeated and answered. Then it came again and again. Hal Barton, strong man that he was, grew weak as a new-born babe. It was the howling of wolves ! "Wolves! Wolves!" he shuddered. "God keep and protect her ! But I must act — I must save her —I must!" He groped his way into the cabin, and by means of flint and steel, struck a fire upon the cold hearth. He piled on dry wood, and soon the rough walls glowed with the light of the dancing flames. Then, snatching up his rifle and a blazing brand, he rushed forth, having no definite plan in mind. All he knew was that he must do something or go mad. The sudden flurry was over ; the rain had ceased to fall UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 21 and the wind came in fitful gusts. It was growing colder. By the light of the flaring torch, he carefully examined the ground around the house. But the earth was hard-packed ; no footprints were discern- ible. Far away on the hilltc^a the wolves were still howling. With bent head and sturdy stride, he set off in that direction. He climbed the steep hillside, descended into a shallow ravine beyond, and, crossing it, found himself upon a second range of hills. He paused to listen and recotmoiter. Many times during the progress of his quest he had called his wife's name. Now he shouted until the aisles of the virgin forest rang. The dismal howling of the wolves could be heard — that was all ; but the sound was fainter and farther away;^ A sudden swirl of air extinguished his torch. Realizing the futility of further effort in the dense blackness that surrpunded him, he slowly and pain- fully retraced his steps to the cabin. Arriving there he replenished the waning fire, and, restlessly pacing up and down the narrow con- finesi of the room, tried to determine in his mind what had become of Margaret. She had not left the vicinity of her own free will, of that he was sure. Had she been captured by Indians? No; the redmen would have left the charred ruins of the cabin to tell of their visit. Someone or some- thing had enticed his wife away from the house; and she was lost in the forest. Again the strong 22 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. mam shuddered; he could not forget the blood- curdling howls he had heard upon the hill. Per- haps already the half-famished pack had devoured her. He dropped into a low splint-bottomed chair before the fire, and, covering his face with his hands to shut out the vision his imagination had conjured, rocked himself to and fro. After a time he grew calmer and attempted to decide what he should do. In the morning he would try to find her trail and follow her. If he failed, he would go to Wheeling and organize a searching party. He would never rest until he found her, dead or alive. Again he cursed himself for his negligence. Could it be possible that the Indians had kidnapped her, carried her into captiv- ity, a fate worse than death? Beside himself with grief and suspense, he sprang erect and resumed his pacing up and down the un- even floor. A well-thumbed, leather-bound Bible upon the rude shelf above the fireplace attracted his attention. It was Margaret's Bible, an heirloom brought from England. He took it from its resting place, feeling that he might find within its sacred pages some word of strength and guidance. Once more he seated himself, the ancient volume upon his knee. A slip of paper projecting from between the yellow leaves caught his eye. Mechan- ically he drew it forth, and, turning it over, read by the flickering light of the fire: "Today I have decided that I can never be happy UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 23 and contented with you. The very sight of this place has grown hateful and distasteful to me. Whatever love I ever bore you, you have killed by prolonged absences and willful neglect. I leave today never to return ; I go with your cousin across the sea. A final farewell. MARGARET." Again he read the curt and cruel missive through, without the movement of* a muscle. He carefully scrutinized the writing. It was Margaret's. He turned the slip of paper over and over, examining it minutely. It was paper she had brought with her from England. Calmly, stoically he arose, and going to a small iron-bound chest in one comer of the room, threw up the lid and drew forth an inlaid writing desk. He compared the piece of paper in his hand with the packet that lay before him. He was not mistaken. He saw that quills and ink were in their accustomed places. One of the quills showed traces of recent use and a partially dried drop of ink adhered to the outside of the ink-jug. It was all very plain; not a shadow of doubt re- mained in his mind. As he closed the lid of the chest and arose to his feet, his face was deathlike; but his nerves were of steel. Rigidly erect he walked about the floor and closely inspected all articles of furniture and cloth- ing. Evidently, Margaret had taken nothing with her but her cloak and hood. Once more he replen- ished the fire and seated himself before it. He did not groan or shed a tear. Like one gazing upon 24 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. a horror, he sat staring into the red embers, hour after hour. Over and over, the thought ran through his brain. ^ "Gone — gone ! Gone with my cousin, Dick Hol- loway — gone back to England and the luxury that once she renounced. And but this morning, with her arms about me and her lips seeking mine, she told me she was happy and contented. She pre- tended to love me, too, only this morning; and yet she says that whatever love she ever bore me, I have killed by prolonged absences and willful neg- lect. Oh, Margaret ! False, false as Satan's prom- ises! And I thought you an angel of fidelity, thought that when all others proved false you would still be true. God help me to forgive you, my lass — God help me!" The fire was burning low ; gray ashes strewed the hearth. It was midnight. He bent forward, as though striving to read his fate in the fading coals, and murmured chokingly: "It was a mistake — a mistake all the way through. I should have left her in England to marry Dick Holloway and enjoy the luxury and wealth she had been taught to expect. She was too tender a blos- som to stand want and hardship. And he followed us to America. Did I not see him in Boston ? He has trailed us to this lonely region where I thought he could never find us, and awaiting an opportu- nity, has lured her away from me. Oh, lass — lass ! And I loved you so! UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 25 "But she is not wholly to blame. I was away from her hours at a time; she was lonely; she brooded over what she had lost in marrying me. And it killed her love — whatever love she bore me. Perhaps she did not love me as I thought, as I loved her. No doubt my own great love blinded me. But it's all over — and the future is blank. No ! I mustn't say that. God has placed me here for some purpose. Though all the world be false. He is truth. I must strive — I must do — though the heart break and the brain go mad ! The past — ^the past " He relapsed into silence. The fire expired and the room grew cold. He gave no heed. He was living in that past of which he had spoken, and these are the scenes and incidents that presented them- selves to his mind : Twenty years before, in one of the southern coun- ties of England, there lived a wealthy land-owner named John Holloway. Behind his many-gabled mansion of gray stone stretched the undulating up- lands ; and before it the blue sea spread out to the horizon. The big house stood upon a frowning- headland, and a winding driveway led down to a straggling fishing-village in a sheltered cove just back of the yellow sands. This village was of no little importance at the time. It contained several hundred cottages and had its own church and rec- tor; and the fish that its inhabitants salted and cured went far toward feeding the poor of London. 26 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. John HoUoway's family consisted of his wife, his son, a lad of seven years, and his nephew, a boy of five. The latter was the child of Mr. HoUoway's dead sister, who had run away from the parental roof to marry a strolling musician, and who had died deserted and broken-hearted in the great me- tropolis. With open arms the uncle and aunt had received the little waif and taken him to their hearts. They learned to love him as they loved their own son, and were as solicitous of his welfare. The two cousins had been christened Richard and Harold, but John Holloway, with a fixed propensity for ab- breviating everything he said and did, promptly cut their names to Dick and Hal. Ruring their childhood, Dick Holloway and Hal Barton were constant playmates and fast friends. They romped together over the broad lawns and the shining sands of the seashore. Hal, though two years the younger, was the recognized leader in all their pranks and adventures. Sturdy-limbed, sunny-natured and fearless, he appealed to the ad- miration of his more delicate, irascible and timid cousin. Dick's hair and complexion were dark; Hal's were light Things moved along without jar until Dick was nineteen and Hal seventeen. Then the new rec- tor's daughter, Margaret Fulton, a winsome, brown- haired lass of sixteen, came into their lives. Both cousins fell madly in love with her and trou- ble began. Apparently, Margaret could not tell UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 27 which of her youthful lovers she preferred. Per- haps she was herself too young to know her own heart. At times she appeared to favor the swarthy- complexioned, musical-voiced Dick. At other times it was evident that she was more strongly drawn toward the bluff, leonine Hal. Each cousin became madly jealous of the other; and many wordy encounters were the result. No doubt words would have led to blows, had Dick possessed the requisite amount of courage. But none knew better than he that he was no match for his stalwart cousin. At this stage of affairs, Mrs. Holloway, a quiet, lovable woman, fell ill and died. Her husband, heart-sick and lonely, determined to spend a year in travel upon the continent. To this end he sent Dick, who until now had been under the instruc- tion of a tutor at home, away to college, and pro- cured for a Hal a position under the government. The latter's education had not been neglected. He had studied with Dick and had proven the more apt scholar of the two. This move onjjie part of John Holloway for a time put an end to the youngsters' love-making. Dick was at Oxford ; Hal, in London ; and Margaret at home with her father. At the end of twelve months Mr. Holloway returned to England. Only during the holidays were the cousins at home, and then they sedulously avoided each other's society and refused to resume their old companionship. They were more estranged than ever. Dick had 28 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. absorbed aristocratic ideas and was intolerant and overbearing. He looked upon his cousin as a ple- bian, and took no pains to conceal his aversion for him. Hal, on the other hand, had become impreg- nated with democratic principles. Although he had been in the employ of the government, he took de- light in shocking his uncle and cousin by voicing his sentiments in their presence. He was the same hale, bluff Hal; but he had convictions in regard to liberty and the inalienable rights of the common people — and he had the courage to speak what he thought. He openly avowed that he believed the American colonists were right in rebelling against the rule of the mother country. This brought down upon his head a storm of abuse from both uncle and cousin. When the holidays were over, the two young men departed without either having had an opportunity of being alone with the young woman both loved. Six months later John HoUoway was killed by a fall from his horse, and the two cousins Were sum- moned home in haste. After the funeral the will was read. It had been executed but a few months before Mr. HoUoway's death. Dick fell heir to everything — ^Hal was cut off with a pound. No doubt his pronounced democratic views had lost him a share of the estate. Dick entered into possession of the fortune and immediately revealed his real nature. He promptly gave Hal to understand that he was a beggar and must make his home elsewhere. UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 29 Young Barton departed from the gray walls that had grown dear to him from boyish associations; but he did not leave the neighborhood. He took up his headquarters at the village inn and again laid siege to Margaret's heart. The young wiaman confessed that she liked him better than his cousin; but tearfully informed him that her father opposed their union and urged her to accept Holloway. Then it was that Hal showed- the true chivalry of his disposition. Realizing that his presence meant trouble for JVTargaret and feeling that he had nothing to offer her in exchange for Dick's wealth, he quietly bade her goodby and re- turned to his duties in London. It was a sore trial, but he bore it with the fortitude of a resolute man. Dick was left with the field to himself. Coaxed by her wealthy lover and urged by her impecunious father, Margaret yielded; and a few months after Hal's departure she was«engaged to his cousin. But having gained her consent, Dick was in no hurry, apparently, to enter into the joys of maj-ried life. He was sowing his wild oats broadcast. He spent much time in London, traveled on the continent, and led a fast life wherever he was. Several years passed, and still Margaret was an inmate of the village rectory. ' During all this time she heard nothing of Hal Barton. He was as one dead to her. Nor did he hear of her, except in an indirect way and at infre- quent intervals. Suddenly he put in an appearance 30 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. at the fishing-village. He had been persecuted for his democratic principles and had been discharged from his position under the government. The aris- tocracy of the metropolis, at the instigation of Dick HoUoway, had accused him of political intrigue, and the government had set a price upon his liberty. Forewarned by a friend, he had fled, and was now a fugitive. He had come to say farewell to Margaret before leaving his native land never to return. He was a youth no longer. His splendid phy- sique and indomitable courage excited Margaret's admiration. The old love again welled up in her heart. Hal read it in her flushed face and suffused eyes. He was sorry, yet glad, that he had come. Bidding her a formal adieu, he turned to leave the woman he loved with all the strength of his great manly nature. But she clung to his big firm hand and looked up at him appealingly. It was more than he could bear. He forgot his danger, her vows — everything. He bent his blue eyes full upon her for one moment ; then, catching her in his strong arms, cried fiercely : "If you love me, lass, you shall go with me to America, though the whole English nation oppose. What say you ?" For answer she clung to him, silently sobbing upon his breast. Within a fortnight they had per- suaded the rector to marry them, and were aboard a vessel bound for the United States. The day after Barton's escape, Dick Holloway suddenly re- UNDER MAD ANTHClNY'S BANNER. 31 turned to his estate. Finding that Margaret had married his hated rival and left the country, he vowed vengeance and set out in pursuit. When Hal Barton and his bride arrived in Amer- ica, they settled first in Boston. There the husband obtained employment in the warehouse of an im- porting firm; and for a year or more the young couple lived happily. But one evening in going home from his work, Barton met his cousin face to face. The two passed without speaking. Hal kept his discovery to himself; he did not wish to worry Margaret. However, the next day when he re- turned from the warehouse she met him at the door and told him that she herself had seen HoUoway spying around the cottage. She was greatly alarmed was trembling and tearful, and refused to be comforted until she had exacted a promise from her husband to remove her beyond reach of the un- welcome intruder. Hal would have stayed and dared his cousin to do his worst — the tawny-haired giant knew not the meaning of cowardice — ^but Margaret appeared terrorized by the presence of the man to whom she had been betrothed. Within a week they had packed their few belong- ings, joined a company of immigrants, and were on their way to the western wilderness. Arriving in the newly-founded settlement of Wheeling, after a journey of untold hardship, they paused to rest and look around them. Barton was not pleased with the location. At first he thought of going on to 32 UNDER MAD ANTHONV'S BANNER. Marietta; but, after due deliberation, decided to cross the river and erect a dwelling in the very heart of the woods. Margaret professed to be well pleased with the proposed move ; apparently she de- sired to get entirely beyond the pale of civilization, beyond the possibility of Didc HoUoway finding her. Hal selected a site, and, with the help of his friends, erected a cabin. There the couple lived in peace and quietude until that fateful November day that marks the beginning of our story. CHAPTER III. Hal Barton emerged from the past in which he had been living, and arose to his feet. It was gray daylight. His limbs were stiff and his heart lay like lead in his breast. Bareheaded he strode from the cabin, and, throwing back his shoulders and ex- panding his great chest, drank deeply of the pure, cold air. After milking and feeding the cow and attending to the wants of the squealing porker, he returned and cooked a scanty breakfast and busied himself with preparations for departure. "The cow and pig," he murmured, "I'll give to some poor family at Wheeling. Nothing else of value remains except Margaret's keepsakes, -" A sob rose in his throat — "and as she has left them behind, it's best to destroy them with the rest. I don't mean to leave a trace ot our Eden 1" Piling clothing, bedding and articles of furniture in the center of the floor, he touched a firebrand to the promiscuous heap ; and, slinging his pouch and 34 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. powder horn to his side, he picked up his rifle and left the house, closing the door after him. A few yards from the building, he paused and bent his head. "Is there anything I've forgotten?" he thought. Ah! Turk, the deer-hound. Where is he? Has he, too, proven false and deserted me? I cannot believe it. I left him on guard; he was fidelity itself " He started and grasped his rifle firmly. A peeu- liar, in^rticiil^te whimpering came from a clump of jjushes vpon the ^rcek Jjarik, IJe listened intently. The soupd was repeated. He hurried toiyard tb? SQjind, knowing instinctively wh^t he should find. Quickly parting the brush and brf^mbles, he beheld a sight that made his blood boil and his huge frame quiver with suppressed rage, A pair of liquid brown eyes met his own in a mute appefll for help. Stretched prone upon the frozen ground, he saw the dog that he had loved and trained, The poor animal was shot through the body, but still alive, still conscious, A trail of blood marked where the sorely wounded brute had dragged himself into the bushes to die. He whined softly as Barton came into view and, feebly wagging his tail, attempted to crawl to his master's feet. Hal stooped and patted the glossy head and gazed into the eyes fast glazing in death. The dog licked the hands that caressed him. The tears welled up in the Englishman's eyes. UNDER MAC ANTHONY'S BANNER. 3s "Brave old Turk— faithful fellow !*' he ttiUrfflured softly. "I shall never see your like again. You've lost your life in defense of what you considered my rights. Surely there's a heaven for such as you. Your courage was unwavering; your frietidshi|), Uil- alterable. Your love was idolatry. If God delights in suchivirtUes, He'll not let yoit go ddWii 16 fl(Jth- ingnessi . farewell, old friend — fai-ewell!'' Something akin 16 a sniile for a brief mditietit lighted the- great brown eyes and twitched the gfay muzzle. Tlien Turk's limbs stiffened. A siligle convulsion — ^and the deferhoimd was dead. For ful- ly a minute Hal stood with bowed hea>d ahd 'con- torted features. Then, hastily brushing the teats frdhi his eyes, be removed his fur cap, and, raising his face toward the cloudless heavens, said solettin- "Here under God's bright skieis and above the dead body of iny one faithful friend, 1 vow to avenge myself upon the man who Has wrought riiin Uptttl me. t will not seek him ; but if he ever crosses my path, his life shall pay for his evil deeds !" He turned to take a last look at what had been his home. Blue-black smoke was rising through the clapboard roof; and red tongues of flame were creeping out of the crevices in the log walls and lapping at the dry bark outside. With a choking sensation in his throat and a feeling of desperate loneliness in his heart, Hal Barton shouldered his 36 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. gun and trudged away in the direction of the river. He intended going to Wheeling, send someone for the cow and pig, and then The whole future appeared as a fathomless blank. He had no plans, no hopes, no desires. As he stumbled along the uneven trail leading down the creek valley, he was aroused from his gloomy rev- erie by the sound of stealthy footsteps behind him. Like a flash he whirled, and stood face to face with two rough-looking men bearing guns. They were white trappers from Wheeling, returning from a trapping expedition. Slung at the back of each was a string of peltries. The two were slightly confused by the Englishman's sudden movement, and retreated a few steps as he fixed his keen eyes upon them. "Good mornin', Barton," one of them hastily stammered. We're jest gittin' in from a spell o' trappin', an' as we come down the valley past y'r place, we saw y'r shack on fire." "Yes, the cabin's afire," Hal returned quietly. "Oh ! you knowed it, did you ?" and there was a ring of suspicion in the fellow's tone. "Yes," was the monosyllabic reply. "Did it ketch from the chimney?" inquired the first speaker's companion. "No." "How, then?" "I set it afire," was the curt answer. The two trappers exchanged significant glances. UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 37 Then one of them ventured : "Folks 'bout here ain't in the habit o' burnin' down the'r own houses. Maybe that's the style over in England, though. Where's y'r wife?" "None of your business," Hal retorted hotly. He was suffering mentally; and the fellow's manner and words irritated him. "Maybe it's none o' my business," the trapper an- swered, "but it'll be the business o' somebody in au- thority, I can tell you that. The cabin's burnt down — ^you say y'jself you set it afire — an' y'r wife's gone. Me an' Jake saw drops o' blood in the yard, too. I'd advise you to make friends of us, 'r you may git into trouble that you'll have a hard time a-gittin' out of. Ther's some law in this country." Hal sprang forward, and, towering above the two men, cried hoarsely : , "Yes, my wife's not with me; I burned my own cabin. Does either of you mean to accuse me of the crime of murder?" The trappers cowered before the fierce aspect of the enraged giant. At last the one who had first spoken muttered sullenly : "I don't accuse you o' nothin', Barton ; but you'd 'ave a mighty hard time a-convincin' some people. But I don't say nothin' ; only things looks kind o' suspicious." "I've committed no crime," Hal said sternly, but quietly. "The cabin was my own; I burned it tOi the ground. My private affairs concern no one but 38 UNDER HSD ^^fTHONY'S BANNER. myself. I'm not bound to babble of them. "Let me say oqce for all that your base suspicions are utterly gropndless." "That'll do fer you to say," sneered the bolder of the two men. NervQUS and irritable from what he had already endured, Barton for the moment lost control of him- self, With catlike quickness he dealt the speaker ^ respuodjri^ slap \\rith his open hand. The trapper was lifted from his feet by tlie force of it apd sent rolling among the brush and fallen leaves. "That will teach you to keep a ciyil tongue in your head, you insolent scoundrel," Hal said in an intense, even tone, "It's beneath me to chastise such a mewling babe as yon; but you brought it upon yourself by your insolence. Listen — ^hoth of you ! If I hear a word of your slanderous talk in Wheeling, you shall answer for it," And he left them piutely staring after him, as he rapidly covered the short distance intervening be- tween them and the mouth of the creek. On arriving in Wheeling he sauntered about the settlement in indecision. |Ie did not know how he was to send anyone for the doniestic animals, without revealing more or less of the trouble that had come upon him. This he was determined not to do, come what would. At last, he resolved upon a course of action, He went to an acquaintance, a man who had immigrated to the West in the same company, and said ; UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNEH. 39 "Jfattsort, I've made up my itiitld to tttum to the East. My wife has already taken her departure. You cdji have my cow and pig by going for them." Hanson thanked him for his generous offer, and asked iio qiiestions. It was not unusual for settlers to becowe dissatisfied With the privations and hard- ships that surrounded them and to return t;o the cortiparative eottiforts of the older settlements! So the simple-minded pioneer thought nothing of Hal*s sudden notion to do what many another had done. feut the difHculties that beset Barton in his at- tempt to depart quietly and peaceably frortl the vi- cinity, were not all dispelled. The two trappers had arrived at their homes, a short time after he had beached his canoe ifl front of the village of huts. Timidly at first, but rtiore boldly as they saW their own suspicion and indignation reflected in the faces of their hearers, they told of the bufnlng cabin and their encounter With iial in the wobds. One rash assertioti led to anothef-, and the two ttien vied with each other in an endeavor to incettse the people against the luckless Englishman. It was no diffi^ cult task; and they succeeded Only too well. So well, in factj that an hour after the first malicious word had been whispered abroad, a wild-eyed mob was hunting for the tawny-haired giaht, beUt on in- flicting summary punishment upon him for his SUp-' posed crime. In thoSe days, in such communities, retributive justice was swift. Not infrequently the death sentence Was executed— and the guilt or in- 40 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. nocence of the suspected offender established after- ward. Courts were few and jails insecure. Mob vengeance was certain, and burdened with no legal restrictions nor technicalities. The crowd of settlers came upon the object of their search just as he was leaving the Yankee trad- er's place, and, with yells of rage and imprecations, set upon him. "There's the wife-murderer! — Kill the cussed Britisher !— At him, men!" — were the cries that suddenly greeted Hal's ears as he stepped from the trader's door and started in the direction of the river. He was intending to set out upon his lonely journey to Fort Pitt and the East. At first he failed to understand the full import of the words. He was not left long in doubt, however. The crowd surged around him and barred his way. Angry, glowering faces surrounded him ; eager hands nerv- ously gripped loaded rifles; and hoarse voices bel- lowed themselves hoarser. Someone upon the out- skirts of the throng discharged a firearm. The ball cut a lock from Barton's temple, and a tiny stream of blood trickled down his cheek. Like a lion he turned and stood at bay. His bronzed face paled, but he showed no other sign of emotion. "Who fired that shot?" shouted the beef-faced man whom Hal had thrown into the river on the previous day. "Don't shoot any more; ther's dan- ger o' killin' each other. We can take him alive. Come on, men!" With an indescribable outcry, the mob pressed UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 41 upon him. He clubbed his rifle and coolly awaited the onslaught. Seeing this, the foremost hesitated, surged backward, and stood still. Taking advant- age of the respite, Hal cried : "What do you mean — what do you want ?" "You — ^you!" were the answering cries. "What have I done?" A momentary silence fell upon the crowd, and the beef-faced man, who appeared to be the leader, replied : "Murdered y'r wife." "It's a base liel" "We're a-goin' to take you, anyhot/." "What's your purpose?" "We're goin' to hang you to the first tree we come to." "Hang him— hang him !" came from all sides. "Come and take me, then," roared Hal, as with flashing eyes and tossing mane he described a circle around his head, with his clubbed rifle. The challenge Was promptly accepted. Those in the rear pressed upon those in front and forced them forward. Hal struck to earth a number of them ; but soon they were so close as to render his blows Ineffective, Dropping his gun and drawing his knife, he set his back against the log wall and prepared to sell his life as dearly as possible. A blow from a gun barrel cent the weapon spinning from his hand but not until more than one of his assailants had felt its keen edge. Defenseless he 42 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. stood before thettlj but tliey knew no pity. They were thirsting for his blood. With yells they threw themselves upon hiiiij atld by weight of num- bers bore bim to the groutld. He flung theiii oflf and arose, fighting desperatdyt They were too many, however, and would have overpowered him Had not a diversion occurred In his favof. A dark, stocky man suddenly appeared upon the outskirts of the crowd. At a glance his eye took in the situation. Quickly elbowing his way through the packed mass that opposed him, with incredible strength he flung aside the leaders of the attack, and, springing to Hal's side, demanded authorita- tively : "Meh, what's the meanin' o' this?" The motley mob, many of them bleeding from wounds they had received, and butning for revenge, glared at the newcomel- in silent rage. How- ever, When they saw who it was that had snatched their prey from thetti, they ilieekly hung their heads and suddenly found their tongues. "He's a Britisher," nluttered oile man, sullenly. "What o' that?" was the neW arrival's prompt re- joinder. "Does that give you any right to jump on him, twenty to one, att* try to kill him ?" "He's murdered— his wife an' burnt *er up — in his cabin," stattimered the beef-faced man. But his eyes dropped before the other's keen gaze. "How d' yoti know?" And the words fell dis- tinctly. UNDER JVIAD ANTHONY'S BANNER- P The self-cotjsfituted leader of the mob was grow- ing embarrassed. He could not f^pe those sharp, black eyes, " 'Cause Jake Parmer an' Sam Holton told ns so." "How do they know ?" "W'yi they saw — saw his burnin' cabin, an' — an' he told 'em' he set it afire hisself; an' his wife's missin' — an' — an'- " "An' what?" But the cowardly braggart had no more to say. He would liave slunk away, but he was hemmed in and Could not escape. The dark-visaged man gave him no further attention, but, turning to Hal, said : "Are you hurt much, friend?" "A few bruises and scratches, " A^d the blond giant actually smiled [—"nothing of a serious nature. Let me offer you my sincere thanks for your timely intervention. There were a few more of them than I could qonvenientljr handle." The newcomer looked at the Englishman with frank admiration. Barton's face was stained with blood, hie long hair was touseled, and his clothing was torn and disarranged, but he still looked the superb man that he was. Now he quietly stood gazing down upon the man who probably had saved his life. He saw that the stranger was about five- f eet-nme in height, but very broad-shoiildered, deep- chested and muscular. His skin was swarthy; his face, deeply pock-marked. A pair of deep-set, rest- less black eyes shone beneath his jutting forehead. 44 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BAl^NER. and a cataract of raven hair fell below his shoulders. He was dressed in the frontier garb of the day, consisting of buckskin hunting-shirt and leggins, fur cap and nloccasins. He carried a rifle almost as long as himself, and a knife and tomahawk were stuck in his belt. His age was about twenty-seven years. "You don't owe me any thanks," Hal Heard his rescuer saying. "But what about this charge o' murder that these men bring ag'in you, friend ?" "It's false — absolutely untrue," Barton replied^ looking his questioner squarely in the eyes. "You burnt y'r cabin down?" "I did." "What fer?" "Because it pleased me to do so." A shade of annoyance swept over the woodman's dark face. Evidently he was not accustomed to such cool treatment. He suppressed his rising irri- tation, however, and continued his interrogatories: "Where's y'r wife?" "Friend" — and Hal stretched forth his hand, which the other took — "I am under obligations to you. You came to my rescue when I was about to be overpowered by this mob. I'm duly grateful. But I'm innocent of any crime; and I must refuse to answer your questions." Sullen murmurs arose, and the excited settlers stirred restlessly. Seeing this, the stranger ad- dressed Barton thus : UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 43 "Friend, I believe you're tellin' the truth; I be- lieve you're innocent. But these men hert ain't sat- isfied. Will you consent to be placed in confine- ment till the whJDle matter can be looked info? I'll stand good fer y'r safety." Hal's blood-stained face darkened' ominously ancf his eyes flashed defiantly as he replied : "As I said, I'm innocent. I won't consent to be confined as a common felon ; but this I will do. I'll give you, and you alone, a satisfactory explanation of the circumstances that cause the'se men to suspect me of the crime of murder."- "Win that satisfy you, men?" the svirarthy man asked. "Yes — ^yes," came from a dozen mouths. "What- ever Lew Wetzel says an' does'U be all right." Lew Wetzel ! Hal again bent his gaz^ upon his companion. He had heard of the famous scout and Indian-fighter, but had never seen him until now. Lew Wetzel ! The name that struck ta-ror to the hearts of the fiercest redmen that roamed the forest wilds. The Englishman again held out' his hand, saying*: "Have I the honor of being under obligations to Lew Wetzel?" "It's Lew Wetzel, sure enough," the other chuck- led dryly; "but you ain't under no obligations to him, as I said before. Come on; le's step out here- an' have a little talk ; the men 're gittin' impatient." The two drew aside and talked in low, earnest 46 UNbfeR ik-AD ANTHONY'S BANNER. totles for some liiinutes. Then Wetzel returned to the grOUJ) and said: , "IfoU itlen 're thistaken. Barton hain't cortiiiiit- ted no critne — I'm fceftaln o' that. Are you satis- fied?" There Wds a divisiotl of opinioti. I'he greater number of the men Were Satisfied With the verdict tlili^ tendered; attd s6 expressed tkehiselves. but a ffew of thfe hiore tuftjuietit, whb had felt the thrust of lial's knif^, atid the strength of his powerful right 'Attn, gttimbled: "He's a Britisher — a. 'ristOCf at ! Let's hang him, afiyhow !" Lew Wetzel's d^tp chest heaved and a scowl of rage ±ade his dark fate ddftteh He burst forth : "You made me judge o' this case, an' I've ren- dered a Vefdict. Ally man that aih't satisfied with the decisiOil can settle the mattfei- with me. You litter o' cowardly hoUtl' pUppie^l You're wOrse thah the meati, low-lived tedskittS. You jumped ■OhtO lial Sartoh twenty to oiie, an' you ooUldri't lick him. I'm goin' to stand by him an' see him through. Dq you hear me? "fher' ain't enough men, such as you are, in the Nor'west Tei-ritory fd drub US two. If you're thirstiri' fer blood, come right oil. 1 ain't ih the habit o' blowin'— you all khOW that— and I mean jdst what I say. Shanie on youl" UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 47 No one $howed any desire to accept the challenge. A few, including the beef-faced man, slunk away to dress their wounds and mumble oi/er their griev- ances, Hal had recovered his knife and gun and stood watching the play of emotions upon the faces before him, Many of his erstwhile enemies came forward to shake bis hand and express regret for their hasty actions. He good-naturedly forgave them. When the crowd had disappeared, Wetzel was the ifirst ta speak. "Friend," he said, "you hain't told me all 0' y'r trouble, an' I don't ask you to. But you're m 'trQut)le an' I pity yon. J v\iant to help you, but right here I want to say that I can't make myself believe that y'r wife left you of 'er own free will- I" Ifnow that women's ways — like the ways o' Prov- idence — 're past findin' out; but the Uttle woman that once loved you '11 ailuz love you. I feel kind o' womanish myself since I met yot} — sort o' wantin' to fall head Qver hpels in love with you, No, sir; y'r wife didn't leave of her own accord. Somebody toted 'er away 'r stole 'er. It wan't In j ins — 'nless some white cuss was leadin' 'em. In j ins would 've burnt the cabin. Some white scamp had somethin' to do with it." "Yes," Hal Barton answered solemnly, "a white villain enticed her away. But she went because she desired to go ; not because she was forced to do so." "How d' yon know that?" asked Wetzel. 48 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER, "She left me a note telling me what she had done." "You're sure it's the little woman's writin' ?" "Absolutely sure," Hal replied positively. He had meant to keep his domestic troubles to himself; and here he was confiding his secrets to this swarthy woodman, a comparative stranger. Yet for some inexplicable reason he did not marvel at himself. The scout screwed his pock-marked face into a grimace that almost concealed his eyes, as he said, musingly : "I hain't got much book-leamin' ; but I'd like right smart to hear that note read — I would." Hal complied with the request. Wetzel heard him through, listening intently to every syllable that fell from the Englishman's lips. Then he remarked in a tone of sadness : "I guess you're right, Hal Barton; she's been false to her vows before God an' man. Well, ther's no use grievin'. An' I ain't a-goin' to let you go back East ; it's no place fer a man o' sorrow. Come with me fer a huntin' trip in the woods — right out in God's wilderness — an' you'll fergit y'r trials an' troubles. We can hunt wild varmints an' " Here a look of fiendish hate swept over the scarred countenance — "shoot a few redskins. P'raps you won't like to kill Injins at first, but if you'll jest remember that every one you send to the happy- huntin'-grounds means longer life to some white UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 49 woman *r child, you'll soon git used to it. I won't take no fer an answer. You're a-goin' with me." The 'following day the two men, fast friends in so short a time, turned their backs upon the semi- civilization of the settlement, and entered the track- less wilds west of the Ohio river. CHAPTER IV. When the news of St. Clair's defeat reached the seat of government at Philadelphia and spread throughout the East, people bowed their heads in shame and sorrow. General Harmer's luckless campaign of the previous year had piqued and irri- tated them but this was a national calamity the magnitude of which appalled them. On receiving the dispatches giving details of the fell catastrophe, Washingtoa lost his self-control. Striding up and down his private apartment, he wrung his hands and groaned: "And here in this room — ^the last thing I said to him — I cautioned General St. Clair to beware of a surprise! But he shall have justice — full justice!" If the people of the seaboard were shamed and angry, the pioneers upon the border were stunned and terrified. None knew so well as they what the defeat of the army meant. They realized that the Indians would be emboldened to fall upon the scat- tered and defenseless settlements, and they trem- UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. Si bled for the safety of their helpless women and chil- dren. During these trying times such men as Lew Wetzel and Hal Barton were of inestimable service to the inhabitants of these isolated communities. Scorning danger themselves, they inspired others with courage. They spent days in the forest, spy^ ing upon predatory bands of savages that were bent upon murder and pillage. They gave timely warn- ing of the approaching foe ; and on many occasions fought single-'handed for the salvation of some soli- tary squatter's household. President Washington realised the terrific state of affairs upon the western frontier, and was prompt to act, He called General Anthony Wayne frppi the obscurity of private Ijfe and gave him conwiand of the army, or, rather, of the fraction that remained. Many of the older officers had met death in the ill-fated campaign just ended, and the younger men were inexperienced and inclined to be headstrong and unruly. Add to this the facts that the privates were utterly demorali?ed by two unsuc- cessful campaigns, and that the ship of state was under reefed sails to escape the shoals of bankrupt- cy, and one has a meager idea of the task General Wayne had before him, He was asked to take com- mand of an army that had no existence. He must bring order out of chaos ; make something of noth- ing, A less indomitable spirit than Mad Antho- ny's would have shrunk from the herculean xmder- taking. S2 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. With the words of the president— "Another de- feat would be inexpressibly ruinous to the govern- ment" — ringing in his ears, Wayne left Philadel- phia in .the spring of 1792, and proceeded to Pitts- burg. Here he began recruiting his army. On the 28th of November he removed to a point twenty-two miles down the river and went into camp for the winter. It was from this place that he sent his fa- mous request to congress, saying : "I want you to send me colors for the army. They shall not be lost!" On the 30th of April, 1793, he broke camp and proceeded to Cincinnati, intending to quarter his troops at Fort Washington. But on his arrival he found the vicinity of the fortification unsuitable for drills and maneuvers, and he chose a site one mile farther down the river. As it was the only place he could find that met with his approval, he called his encampment "Hobson's Choice." Here he erected temporary barracks for the troops, consisting principally of log huts and sheds, and during the spring and early summer contin- ued to make efforts to evolve a trained army from the incongruous materials that had been furnished him. Many difficulties beset him. His officers were young men and required much counsel and ad- vice which they did not always take kindly. Many of the privates were lazy and stubborn ; and acts of open insubordination were not infrequent. Bare mention of the Indians struck terror to the hearts. UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 53 of the raw recruits, and many of them deserted. The morale of the army was not what it should have been. Most of the troops had been recruited from the border settlements where they had known comparatively little of law and order and the rigid restrictions of military life were irksome to them. Drunkenness and gambling prevailed to an alarming extent among officers and men. Still Mad Antho- ny — the hero of many a hard-fought battle — did not despair. With a spirit born of indomitable energy and invincible pluck, he kept hammering away at the faulty mass of material, and by midsummer he felt that he bad in his hands a finished instrument, an army upon which he could depend. • Fort Washington, at the eastern edge of the vil- lage of Cincinnati, was the most important forti- fication in the territory. It stood near the river bank and consisted of rows of two-story log cabins surrounding an acre of ground. At each corner was a strong blockhouse. At the time of which we write. Colonel Wilkinson was commandant of the small body of troops stationed there. Cincinnati was nothing more than a collection of huts with a few hundred inhabitants, and did not differ from other backwoods villages of the day." The secretary of the territory occupied a cabin just back of Fort Washington ; and immediately east of the garrison resided the surgeon general. All the business of the place was done by two or three trad- ers, who occupied buildings no better than the 54 UNDER MAD ANTH0N;Y'S BANNER. shacks in which the settlers lived. As has been said, drunkenness prevailed among both soldiers and citizens, and unprincipled traders reaped a rich harvest by the sale of fiery intoxicants. Let us take a look at the place as it appeared on a sultry evening in July, 1793 : Long, lank shadows stole down from the hill- sides, as the sun sank in the west, and threw them- selves athwart the valley. Chains clanked and cat- tle lowed; the settlers were driving their weary teams in from the clearings. Columns of blue smoke, showing that the evening meal was prepar- ing, shot straight upward and disappeared. Chil- dren ran laughing from cabin to cabin ; and tanned and sweat-grimed men,^ scouring their flushed faces and calloused hands, prepared to partake of the sup- pers that awaited them. In front of the traders' stores, groups of idlers sleepily argued the many perplexing problems of state and smoked their pipes reflectively, The sun touched the horizon's rim. Down at Hobson's Choice the soldiers lounged in picturesque attitudes upon the green sward and watched the cooks at the campfires. Officers in uniforms, reg- ulars in stained and faded regimentals, and volun- teers and rangers in nondescript attire mingled upon the parade ground. Drill was over for the day, and the men were walking and lolling about, and grum- bling at the heat, the fare, and the military disci- pline. Not a few of the hot-blooded ones were UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 55 finding fault with the administraLtion, on account of its peace policy and apparent lack of energy and determination. " 'Taint no use a-talkin'," growled a tall, raw- boned Kentuckian, "this damned peace policy is all Quaker nonsense ! What 're we here fer, I'd like to know? Drillin' an' drillin' from one day's end to another — it's all bosh. Ol' Anthony's got the army in good trim. Le's lick the cussed redgkins an' go back home. I want to git back to my cabin in ol' Kaintuck. What's the use o' the gover'ment tryin' to make peace with a lot o' devilish In j ins? The only way to make peace with 'em is to kill 'em." Murmurs of approval arose from his comrades. "Thot's roight — yez niver spoke a truer word." The speaker was Rory McParlan, an Irish volun- teer from' — ^heaven knew where. He had served in the British army for ten years and had seen a deal of hard service. He was of middle age and weight, a tough and flexible blade thS.t had been tempered by the heat of many a bloody conflict. His freckled face, snub nose and red and refractory hair, the whole intensified by a gleaming saber scar above his right eye, gave to his countenance a sinister aspect. But a brave, warm heart had Rory. He would have given his life for a friend; and as he himself was tvont to say — ''Would rutber foight than ate." He had a soldier's instinct, training and bearing. He never neglected to salute his superiors, nor to aid a comrade in distress ; and was a great favorite S6 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S- BANNER. with officers and privates. However, his keen, witty retorts sometimes cut deeper than he intended and occasionally left a wound that refused to heal. His one great failing was his love for liquor; and more than once it had caused him to nurse his ach- ing head in the guardhouse. Now he continued: "P'ace policy, indade! The divil take such a policy. The only policy a sojer oughter know is the policy o' drillin' an* foightin' — ^an' o' drillin' we've hod a plinty. The army won't be in as good kilter in a month as it is today — an' ould Mod An- thony knows it. There's a sojer, bhoys ! He'd be afther thim blitherin' blasts o' hell — thim red nay- gurs— the morry, if the gover'ment 'd only let him. Wot're we waitin' on? Yez can't one o' yez tell me. The horsepital's full o' sick sojers, an' the surgeon's killin' more men wid his bleedin' an' blisterin' than the Injins 'd kill in a month's campaign. After an army's complately drilled it's damnation to 'em to kape 'em in oidleness — thot's w'ot Oi say." "Ahoy ! ahoy, there, Rory !" cried a cheery voice. "You're makin' more noise 'n a man-o'-war, an' emittin' more smoke 'n a howitzer. What 're you emptyin' y'r broadsides about, anyhow ?" The speaker sauntered up to the group and care- lessly threw himself upon the ground. He was an- other of the incongruous links in the chain with which General Wayne meant to strangle the Indian UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 57 insurrection, a rough, misshapen little man who had trod a ship's deck as much as he had ever walked the earth. He had served with Commodore Whip- ple in the Revolutionary War ; and his scars proved that he had smelt gunpowder more than once. His stooped shoulders, bow-legs and long arms gave him a {leculiar, ungainly, ludicrous appearance. But the opinion was current among the soldiers that he could jump higher and hit harder than any man in the army, except Rory McFarlan. Receiving no answer to his salutation, he continued. "What's the matter with you land-lubbers? Afraid you'll have to sand the decks for action?" At this Rory found his tongue. Removing his short pipe from his wide mouth and cocking one eye in a comical manner, he .retorted sneeringly : "Afraid, yez salt-wather spalpafie! Here's one Oirisb gintleman thot don't know the m'ftnin' o' the word. Sand the decks fer action! W'en we do, we'll make a powdther-monkey d yez — fer it's all yez're fit fer. Jack Keelson." The listeners grinned. They were enjoying the prospect of a friendly tilt between the two eccentric characters. But at that moment the mess cook stuck his head out of the shed door and bawled, "Sup- per !" The men leaped to their feet and scrambled fof places at the board. "Give me leeway, you red-headed baboon, 'r I'll smash y'r jibboom an' turn it up morn'n it is," S8 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. Keelson cried, playfully tapping Rory upon the nose. "You owdacious pirate !" shouted the latter, mak- ing a grab for the sailor's collar. But Jack ducked his head, gave a hitch to his baggy trousers, and, nimbly dancing to the opposite side of the long room, stood laughing at the discomfited Iriihman. Roars of laughter shook the crazy building as the men seated themselves. A stern, but not unkindly face appeared in the doorway, and a clear, resonant voice said good-humoredly : "Softly, boys, softly." It was their beloved commander. General An- thony Wayne 1 Twilight, like a rosy, diaphanous mist, enveloped the earth. In the swamps bordering the river, frogs were beginning their nightly serenade. Along the cart-road leading from Hobson's Choice to Cincin- nati, groups of officers and privates were hastening toward the village. A few were on business bent, but by far the larger number were off for a night of dissipation and frolic. Of the latter, several had dispensed with the formality of obtaining leaves of absence. They would languish in the guardhouse next day. A peculiar, musty, disagreeable smell arose from the river and adjoining marshes. The dew was fall- ing ; and the moon, rising big and round above the treetops, began to flood the scene with silvery radi- ance. Half tipsy soldiers and civiUans exchanged UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. S9 boisterous greetings. The ruddy light of talloS?- dips and flaming torches gleamed from open doofs and windows. In the back part of Jim Hill's store a group of men were laughing and drinking. The bar was a rough plank supported by whisky barrels, and the decanter was a brown earthen pitcher. Hill, in a linsey-woolsey wamius, the sleeves of which were rolled above his bony elbow> refilled the pitcher from time to time and grinned broadly as he gathered ill the nimble coins. The rattle of empty pewter mugs was music to his sordid soul. His red nose shone like a beacon light of danger and his breath was a pestilence; but no one took warning. The liquor flowed; and the crowd, constantly in- creasing in numbers, grew more and more hilarious. Two befuddled settlers quarreled over who should pay for their potations, and adjourned to the outer air to settle their differences. No one followed them ; no one paid the least attention. In the broad band of light that streamed from the doorway, two men paused and looked into the room. The smell of tobacco and ardent spirits greeted their nostrils. "Le's go in, mate, an' wet our whistles," sug- gested one of them. "To hell wid yez, Jack Keelson!" retorted the Other. "Would yez 'ave me in the guardhouse, the ttiOfry? Sure an' didn't Oi promise the Colonel Oi wouldn't drink a drap o' liquor the noight ! Oi've given me word an' Oi'll,kape it. Though how the divil Oi'm to kape it w'en Oi've give it to the 6o UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. Colonel, is more than the brains in me pate can tell, jist. Le's be movin' away, fer the smell o' the whusky's more'n Oi can stand." '^All right, Rory," Keelson replied, evident re- luctance in his tone and manner. "If a man can't stow a dram without stowin' a, hogshead, he'd better beat out to sea an' leave the cargo alone," A tall, inky-eyed, olive-complexioned young man in the uniform of a lieutenant crowded past the two soldiers and entered the door. "Arrah!" ejaculated Rory. "There goes thot dommed frog-'atin' Frincher, Lieutenant Cartier. Jack, if that snaky-eyed spalpane don't kape away from Bob Sterlin's, an' quit forcin' his attintions 'pon Miss Judith, the divil'U be to pay one o' these foine days. The gal hates him loike p'ison — any- body can see thot. His blarney won't change 'er aither. Some day ould Bob'U git toired o' the Frincher's nonsense an' blow the top of his head off." Jack Keelson ground his teeth as he hissed : "I hate the 'tarnal Frenchman, I do. An' I don't see what General Wayne sees in him that he wants him anchored alongside. He may be a good soldier, but I don't like the cut of his jib. He's all legs an' arms — a reg'lar pirate craft. An' nobody seems to know what port he hails from ; some says from the British D'minion, an' others says from France. As fer me, I'd like to overhaul his manifest. I'll bet a UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 6i shillin's worth o' tobacker he ain't got a lawful cargo." The two friends were moving away from the door as they spoke. Suddenly Lieutenant Rudolphe Car- tier, the man of whom they had been speaking, flitted past tnem and hurriedly disappeared in the direction of the eastern outskirts of the village, "Hist! Ther;e he goes this blissed minute," Mc- Farlan whispered, clutching his companion's arm. "Me word fer it, the purthy young woman ain't far away ; an' the black scoundrel's afther 'er loike an Oirishman afther a hot p'rtaty. Be the powers o' darkness ! But w'y can't he I'ave the poor colleen alone. If she loved him as Miss Joanny loves Cap'n Axline, it wouldn't make no differ'nce; but seein' " He broke off abruptly. A woman's scream for help, piercing and clear, rang out upon the night air. By this time the two comrades had reached the east- ern termination of the village. The cry came from the darkness beyond, from farther up the river. , "It was Miss Judith's voice," asserted Jack, "An' thot frog-'atin' porkypine's up to some divil- ment," Rory completed, "If he's froightened 'r harrumed the purthy colleen, Oi'll maJce him ate me- fist, if Oi'm flayed aloive fer it the morry. Come on, me bhoy !" And like a shot the two were off in the direction of the spot whence the call for aid had come. CHAPTER V. On that July evening two men were plodding their way along the northern bank of the Ohio, in the direction of Cincinnati, They were footsore and hungry ; and their heavy rifles were hecoming bur- densome. As they emerged from the forest into the clearing, a half miJe from the eastern edge of the village, their shadowy figures loomtd up big and grjm in the mgonlight, "Here's a clearing, the first sign of ciyiliggti^n in mileg," remarked the taljer, "We must be near" ing the town," ''Yes," his companion answered, "we're purty near our journey's end, if I ain't badly mistakent An' I ain't at all sorry, we've had a long an' hard ja'nt of it, I see a light twinklin' right down yan' der ; it must be from a cabin. Le's push on." As they drew near the light, they saw it issued from the ppen doprway of a comnjpdipus twe-story log house pn a gentle rise a hundred yards frpm UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 63 the rivef. On. reaching this human habitation, the first they had seen in days, . they saw other lights farther down the river, and judged rightly that the Mecca of their journey was before them. The dis- covery lent them new strength. All at once they halted in their tracks and listened. A woman's scream came to their ears^ A few hurried steps brought them to a fallen tree- top. Encircling this, they Suddenly came upon a young woman struggling in the arms of a man. "Help !" she again called faintly. Without a warning word, the taller of the two travelers unceremoniously caught the assailant by the collar and flung him violently to the earth. The young lady was panting with emotion, and would have fallen had not her rescUer seated her upon the fallen tree trupk. The other traveler dropped the butt of his gun to the ground, and folding his arms upon its muzzle, silently awaited the outcome of the affair. Half-stunned, the prostr&te man staggered to his feet and stared stupidly around. Whipping out a long knife, with an oath, he bounded toward the tall stranger, who had his back turned and was bending over the half-fainting woman. The bright blade glittered in the moon- light; but the blow did not fall. The tall man's companion threw his rifle to his shoulder, and cried : "Gently there, stranger — ^none o' that, 'r I'll send an ounce o' Cold lead through ye, quicker'n a gray squirr'l can whisk his tail, 'r my name ain't Lew 64 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. Wetzel 1 There, that's better " As the other dropped his knife and retreated several steps. — "Now hold y'r temper an' keep y'r distance, an' we won't have no trouble. Hal, this cowardly sarpent was goin' to stick you from behind. 'Spect you'd better keep y'r eye on him." By this time Barton had allayed the young wornan's fears and soothed her into quiet. Turn- ing, at the sound of his friend's voice, he saw the knife his enemy had dropped, and picked it up. Thrusting it into his belt and striding up to the owner, he said in an unmoved voice : "I'll retain your weapon in remembrance of your treacherous, murderous intent." Then in a harsher tone : "Tell me the meaning of this outrage." "I have no explanation to ofifer," the fellow blus- tered ; "and you shall pay for your unwarranted in- terference in my affairs." He spoke with a slightly foreign accent; noting which Wetzel chuckled : "A Frencher — ^by the great horn-spoon !" "Your threats don't alarm me in the least," Hal returned, "and you'd better keep a civil tongue ; it'll be better for you. I don't care to waste further time with you at present — ^but we shall meet again. My name 's Hal Barton." The Frenchman drew himself up proudly, as he replied : "And / am Lieutenant Rudolphe Cartier of the UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 65 United States army, at present an aid of General Anthony Wayne." "Huh!" Wetzel muttered in an undertone. "Is that the kind o' cattle General Wayne's keepin' 'round him ? If it is, his army'll meet with the same fate St. Clair's did. Ther's no dependency to be put in them renegade Frenchers; they'll sell out to the highest bidder any time." To Lieutenant Cartier's vain-glorious announce- ment, Barton returne;d scathingly : "I'm sorry to hear that General Wayne, whom I believe to be a brave and chivalrous soldier, should have to put dependence in such men as you have shown yourself to be." The ofBcer's face was contorted with rage as he hissed : "Monsieur Barton, as you are pleased to call yourself, you have attacked and insulted me, an officer of the army. You shall pay dearly. I shall report you to my commanding officer, General Wayne. He will have you publicly flogged fcJr this outrage." "Listen!" thundered Hal, losing his temper. "Had Mad Anthony himself done what you have done, I should have interfered in behalf of his vic- tim. Now leave me before I break every bone in your miserable carcass. Not another word — go !" Lieutenant Cartier, accustomed to browbeating his inferiors, realized that he had aroused a giant, and concluding that a still tongue meant a whole 66 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. skin, suddenly slunk away. When the Frenchman's footfalls had died out in the distance, Barton turned to the young lady and said : "Where's your hotnd? I'll conduct you thither." "My home," she replied in clear, sweet tones, "is a little farthef up the river. You must have passed it, if you came down the stream." "I remember it — a tWo-story log house." "Yes, sir." "Wetzel" — Hal addressed his friend in a low tonie«-^"wait for me here till I see this lady safe withih hef own door." The scout, gazing after them, said to himself: "He takes to women folks as natur'ly as a beaver takes to water. An' party near two years in the woods hain't cured him o' the habit. It's odd 'bout his wife kavin' .him, as she done. I don't see how she could — fer a braver, truer man never drawed breath. Wouldn't s'prise me if somethin' comes o' this adventure. The gal's good-lookin' — ^near's I could tell; an' them Frenchers 're treacherous, re- vengeful skunks." He yawned sleepily : "Heigho! Ther's alluz trouble to be found in the settlements. The only peiaCeable spot on earth is in the woods. Let them have the settlements as wants 'em; as fer me, give me the life I lead — ^hello'! what was tiiat ?" A snapping twig aroused him. Instantly his UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 67 finger was upon the trigger of his rifle and his keen eyes were searching the shadows. "That was the crackin' of a dead limb," he mur- mured softly; "an' in my humble 'pinion some human foot broke it. Well, they'll not ketch me nappin', whoever they be." As Hal Barton escorted the young woman toward her home, she remarked timidly : "Mr. Barton — I heard you tell Lieutenant Cartier your name — I don't know how to thank you. But believe me when I say that I feel under deep obli- gations — -— " "Don't mention it," Hal interrupted. Why did his heart throb in unison with the notes of that soft, clear voice ? Why did his blood tingle at the touch of that small hand upon his arm ? He could not see her face distinctly, but she was tall and walked with a strong elastic step. Like one in a dream he heard her saying : "Mr. Barton, your language tells me you are an educated gentleman. My father— but, there, I've not told you my name, even." — ^And she laughed confusedly. — "My. father is Robert Sterling; my mother is dead. Joanna and I are the only children ; we are twins. My name 's Judith." She broke off abruptly ; but for some moments he did not reply. They had drawn near the- house, when he said : t"You have been accustomed to good society. 68 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. How is it that I find ydu here among thestf semi- barbarians ?" The question bordered on impertinence. But she' understood and did not resent it. "My father was a prosperous merchant in Balti- more," she explained, "but he met with business re- verses, and, like others, came to the Northwest Ter- ritory in the hope of retrieving his fortunes. We've been here but a year." They were within a few yards of her own door. She looseid his arm, with the words : "Come in and meet my father and sister. They, too, will thank you for the assistance you have ren- dered me." ."No, not tonight," he answered hastily; "my comrade is awaiting me. At another time, per- haps^ " He stopped and looked her full in the face. The light streaming from the open doorway revealed her form and features distinctly. She was beautiful — dark liquid eyes, clear olive complexion and silken brown hair. She was studying him as intently as he was studying her, and both smiled. To relieve her embarrassment she held out her hand, saying : "I'll detain you no longer ; but, if you remain in the settlement a few days, I trust you'll call upon us ; my father will want to meet you." As he clasped her hand in his calloused palm, he replied earnestly: "Thank you. I come here to offer my services to UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 69 General Wayne. If I remain here, I shall certainly accept your invitation." "Good night," she said simply. "Good night," he returned, but he did not drop her hand. Instead, he bent over her and asked, al- most fiercely: "Miss Sterling, will you tell me how you came to be in company of such a man as Lieutenant Car- tier?" She knew that according to the rules of polite society she ought to feel insulted. But she did not. Again her woman's subtle instinct told her that his apparent rudeness was but well-meant interest in her welfare. So she returned in an unmoved voice: "Shall I explain?" "If you will — ^yes." "Ever since the army came here last spring, Lieu- tenant Cartier has been forcing his attentions upon me. He called at our home first with my sister's accepted suitor, a brother oificer. We received ttiim hospitably but from the first I did not like him. However, I concealed my aversion and was cour- teous. He professed to love me and •sought my hand in marriage. I gently, but firmly rejected him and told him that he must call no more. Still he came ; and I appeakd to my father. I don't know what passed between them; but from that day to this Lieutenant Cartier has hated my father and has made threats that be would take his life. He has dogged my footsteps and frightened me with his 70 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. wild talk. I fear he drinks heavily when oS duty. To-night he overtook me as I was returning from the village, and again asked me to marry him. When- 1 refused him and told him to leave me, he <:aught me and threatened to kill me if I did not consent to his desire. You know the rest. Perhaps you saved my life, for he had been drinking. Be on your guard, Mr. Barton; he'll attempt to revenge himself upon you." Hal drew his tall form to its full height as he re- plied, almost coldly : "I don't fear him. But I advise you to avoid him ; he's scoundrel enough to carry his vile threats into execution. Again, good night." Judith watched her rescuer Until his great bulk disappeareci in the shadows. Then she entered the house, thinking of all that had happened and won- dering why she had made a confidant of a total stranger. "There's been a couple o' fellers standin' out yan- der, 'hind that bunch o' brush, fer quite a while," was the greeting Barton received as he returned ta the spot where he had left his friend. "I hain't been able to ketch sight of 'em, but I heerd 'em trampin' 'bout — an' I know ther's tw6 of 'em. Hope we ain't goin' to run into no more difficulties — I do, by thun- der! They mightn't set well on empty stomachs. An' I'm hungrier'n a pack o' wolves." "Let's hasten toward the village," Hal replied, tersely. UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 71 They set out a rapid gait ; but just as they reached the pile of brush of which the scout had spoken, two figures stepped from behind it and barred the path. "Good evening," Barton said grufHy, without slacking his pace. "To leeward there, Rory," one of the men laughed good-naturedly; "he's bearin' down on us like a man-o'-war under full sail. Avast there, you lub- ber ! You'll have us under y'r keel in a jiffy. Port y'r helm, stranger — hard aport." But Hal paid no attention. He was in no mood for trifling. What he had just experienced had stirred the ashes of old memories, fanned into flame embers that he had considered dead. Without another word he and Wetzel brushed past the two men; and would have continued their course with- out a backward glance, had not Rory McFarlan called after them : "Hould on a bit, stranger. Oi want to spake wid yez." Hal stopped, and whirling about, demanded : "What's wanted? Out with it." "Be all the saints o' the calendar ! But yez bate all the min Oi iver saw, jist. Can't yez stop an' pass a civil word, mon ?" "We've had a long trip and are hungry and tired," Hal repUed hurriedly, preparing to move on. "An' p'rformed a noble deed at the close o' y'r journey — .begorrah! Me an' Jack Keelson, here, 72 -UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 're mates ; an' we b'long to the army down to Hob- son's Choice — we're a couple o' Mod Anthony's bhoys. We saw yez cow thot blackguard awhoile ago. But yez oughter give him an everlastin' good trouncin' — ^yez're big enough to do it an' not half try. Me an' Jack follered the dirthy spalpane, m'anin' to p'rtect the purthy colleen, but yez done it complately — an' saved us from gittin' into trouble, loikely. We want to thank yez." The four men shook hands, and conversed in low tones for some -minutes, Wetzel leaning upon his gun and taking little part in the conversation. At last Rory remarked : "So yez're afther inlistin'?" "We come to offer our services as scouts," Hal explained. "Jist the koind o' min Giner'l Wayne'll be afther nadin' whin he starts afther thim red naygurs ; an' yez'll see no ind o' hard sarvice, if yez march under Mod Anthony's banner. Come wid me an' Jack: we're goin' down to Hobson's Choice this blissed minute. We'll foind yez somethin' to ate an' a bit o' turf to slape on. Come on, me hearties ; yez can't foind two betther mates than Jack Keelson an' Rory McFarlan." They set out, Rory and Jack leading the way. "Did you ever see a trimmer craft, Rory, than the big feller ?" Jack whispered, jerking his thumb over his shoulder toward Barton. UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. ^z "Niver," Rory answered with an impressive shake of his head. "An' the other one's broad in the beam an', deep in the hold," Keelson resumed, "a sta'nch, sea-goin' hull that won't founder in any gale — 'r I'm no judge." McFarlan simply nodded. They passed through the village and took the road toward Hobson's Choice. Just ahead of them were three regulars in an advanced stage of intoxi- cation, walking arm in arm, weaving from side to side, and singing — or bawling, rather — at the top of their voices: " 'Twas November the fourth", in the year ninety- one We had a sore engagement near Fort Jefferson ; Sinclaire was our commander, which may remem- bered be, For there we left nine hundred men in Western Ter'tory." There were thirteen stanzas of like merit; and they sang them through to the end. The three reg- ulars passed the guard ; and then came our friends' turn. "These fwo min be afther inlistin'," Rory ex- plained. "Oi'll stand good fer 'em." An hour later the two hungry woodmen had satisfied their appetites and were fast asleep, with their rifles beside them. CHAPTER VI. Hal Barton was awakened the next morning by the boom of the sun-rise-gun at Fort Washington. As the hoarse growl broke the sultry stillness and echoed down the valley, the Englishman stretched his stiffened limbs and slowly arose to his feet. Early as it was, he found the camp astir and his companions gone. Camp-fires were blazing and red-faced mess cooks were preparing the morning meal. Hal sauntered down to the river and, hastily throwing off his clothing, took a plunge in the limpid water. Much refreshed, he returned to camp to find breakfast ready and his friends impatiently awaiting his coming. "Look here, mate," cried Jack Keelson, standing with his bowlegs far apart and his hands upon his hips, "you'll never make a soldier -'r a sailor, if you don't learn how to take y'r reckonin' an' keep y'r bearin's. You must 'ave been lost in the fog. Didn't you hear the cook pipe all hands to breakfast ? . It's well along in the mornin' watch." UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 75 "I beg your pardon, men, for having kept you waiting,'' Hal began; but Rory McFarlan inter- rupted him with : "Sit yez down by me,, Hal Barton. Can't yez see thot Jack's talkin' to hear hissilf, jist? Yez ain't kipt a mother's son of us waitin'. But wher've yez been?" "Down at the river, taking a bath." "Howly mother presarve us ! The oidee of a mon takin' a bath, 'specially 'fore breakfast! Barton yez '11 ruin the morals 0' the intoire army wid y'r bathin' an' y'r blarney. Set to, mon ; it'll soon be toime fer scourin' accoutremients an' gittin' ready fer inspection an' drill." The entire mess broke into « roar at the joke at Hal's expense — in which he joined. Even Wetzel's black eyes twinkled, and his grim, pock-marked face relaxed. Breakfast over, the camp took on a more ani- mated appearance. Officers with rattling scabbards stalked hither and thither ; soldiers scoured and bur- nished arms, buckles and buttons ; volunteers care- fully inspected their flint-locks, and brushed and tidied their soiled and frayed clothing. For General Wayne's eyes would be upon them ; and each man would be held responsible for the condition of his dress, arms and accoutrements. Barton and Wetzel sauntered about the camp. The soout was duly impressed with what he saw, and remarked in his original way : 76 * UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. "This fussin' an' fixin' may be all right, Hal ; but I don't want to take no part in it. Seems like tom- foolery. They're gittin' ready fer drill now. I saw 'em drill at Fort Harmer an' Fort Washington, more'n once. That was when ol' Gener'l Harmer had me in prison fer killin' an Injin. He b'lieved in a peace-policy jest like the gover'ment's talkin' 'bout now. But all this drillin' makes me sick; I can't stomach it. If we've got to go through such non- sense, I won't 'nlist — that's all. I'd die in a week. It's pUrty nigh as bad as bein' in prison. I don't see how them fellers stand it." "If we enlist as scouts," Hal returned, smilingly, "we'll not be subjected to such tiresome duties. We'll he responsible to no one but the commander." "An' we won't have to drill, n'r shine up our rifles fer folks to look at?" "No." "All right, then. But I ain't goin' to stand no tarnal tomfoolery. If Gener'l Wayne wants me to spy 'round the In j ins an' keep track o' the'r deviltry, I'm jest the man he's lookin' fer." Hal assured his backwoods friend that the com- manding officer would expect them to perform the duties of stouts and dispatch-bearers, nothing more. This satisfied the freedom-loving Wetzel; and the two resumed their round of observation. As they were crossing a corner of the parade ground, a few minutes before the beginning of the forenoon drill, they came face to face with a young officer in UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 77 the uniform of a captain. He was a lithe, active young fellow with a bronzed face full of courage and tenacity of purpose. Stopping suddenly he ex- tended his hand, saying : "I recognize you, Hal Barton, and I am both sur- prised and pleased to see you here . I trust you have come to enlist. We need the aid of such men as you to make this campaign a glorious success. I don't want to carry the sad news of another defeat to Philadelphia." Hal grasped the extended hand, and, shaking it warmly, replied : "Captain Axline, I thank you for your confidence in my loyalty to my adopted country. This is my friend, the famous scout and Indian-fighter, Lew Wetzel. For two years, almost, he has been training me in the art of woodcraft. We came to offer our services as scouts." Captain Axline's face lighted up with pleasure. In an ecstacy he seized Wetzel's hand, crying : "I'm delighted to meet one so famous as Lew Wetzel, the man who has been wronged and im- prisoned for protecting defenseless women and chil- dren from the merciless savages. More than once I've heard our beloved commander wish he knew your whereabouts. Many bordermen have offered their services ; but none so well acquainted with all the artifices of Indian warfare as Lew Wetzel." The simple-minded scout was so confused by the captain's words and manner that he could not utter 78 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. a syllable in reply. Hotly pursued by a score of Indians in war paint and feathers, he would have dodged from tree to tree and chuckled as he re- loaded his rifle. Bound to the black stake and threatened with horrible death, he would have flung taunting words in the teeth of his tormentors and met his fate like a stoic. But now he stood utterly abashed, knocked speechless by a sincere compli- ment. Seeing the backwoodsman's embarrassment, Captain Axline turned to Hal and said : "Barton, you and your friend can render inesti- mable aid to the army as scouts. Have you seen General Wayne?" "No." "Then," the officer resumed, hurriedly, "meet me here when we break ranks after drill. I'll take you to him. I must be off now." The two friends — so dissimilar in many things, but alike in wealth of manliness and poverty of af- fectation, watched the maneuvers with unassumed interest. When the drill was over Captain Axline hurried to them and went with them to General Wayne's headquarters, a well-built log house of two rooms, standing a few rods from the river bank. As Barton followed the captain through the door, he saw a tall, soldierly man nervously pacing up and down the room. It was the daring, indomitable General Anthony Wayne, the hero of Stony Point, the man who said to General .Washington, "Gen- eral, I'll storm hell, if you will plan it." His bright UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 79 eyes and straiglit nose denoted an alert disposition; while his firm mouth and square jaws were indi- cative of great firmness and courage. His features were clear-cut and handsome. Captain Axline saluted his superior officer and stood awaiting recognition. General Wayne paused hi his walk and asked brusquely, but not unkindly : "What is it, Axline?" "General, I have here two men who have come to offer their services as scouts " the captain began; but with a gesture of impatience the com- mander interrupted: "Enough — enough! If they can drive teams or take charge of baggage, assign them quarters. Otherwise, I cannot use them. It seems that every frontiersman thinks he possesses the essential quali- ties of an Indian scout. I already have too many — such as they are." And he resumed his restless pacing of the floor. Captain Axline was disconcerted. His flushed face showed it. Wetzel dropped the butt of his gun to the floor with a thud ; and, resting his chin upon it, fixed his black eyes upon the general. A quizzical expression rested upon the Indian-fighter's disfigured countenance. An amused smile irradi- ated Barton's handsome features. General Wayne had not deigned to cast a glance at the newcomers ; but now he turned at the end of the room and quietly surveyed them. As he did so a sudden change took place in his expression and demeanor. 8o UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. His tall figure grew rigidly erect ; his thin nostrils quivered ; apathy gave way to animation. "Who is this man — this giant, Axline?" he de- manded, nodding toward Hal. "Hal Barton, a scout, who has spent two years m the forest with Lew Wetzel." "Ah 1" Then to the Englishman : "You've been a pupil of the famous Lew Wetzel?" "I'm not ashamed to answer yes," Hal replied, smiling. Wetzel shifted his position uneasily, and glanced around him as though seeking an escape from what was coming. "Do you know Wetzel's whereabouts?" "Yes, sir." "Where is he?" And the commander bent for- ward eagerly. Before Hal could reply, Wetzel asked quickly : "Gener'l, do you want to put him in prison fer killin' In j ins, as Gener'l Harmer done?" First a cloud of annoyance, and then a flickering smile, swept over Anthony Wayne's face. "My friend," he answered, "you don't know me or you wouldn't think me capable of such an act. I'm no Quaker, and I want no men of peace in my service. The present policy of the government — but I have said enough. Were Lew Wetzel here I would show him that I know how to appreciate the service he has rendered his countrymen." Something like a chuckle sounded in Wetzel's UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 8i throat ; and he hugged his long rifle fondly. Again addressing Hal, General Wayne said : "You haven't answered my question, Mr. Bar- ton." "General, the man you seek stands before you." The commander's face was a study in surprise, incredulity and pleasure. Captain Axline burst into a laugh which he promptly suppressed. The gen- eral advanced, and, seizing Wetzel's hand, wrung it heartily, all the while studying the scout's form and features. At last he spoke : "Wetzel, the fame of your prowess has preceded you. I'm glad to see you at Hobson's Choice ; and while I'm commander you shan't be imprisoned for killing one Indian or a thousand." Then to Captain Axline : "Captain, did I understand you to say these men have offered their services as scouts?" "They have, general." "Very well, I accept the offer. Assign them quarters and see that they get full rations. Gentle- men, I bid you good morn wait a moment. Your duties will not begin until we start upon the campaign, which I trust will be soon ; but you will draw a private's pay from today." As Hal and Wetzel followed Captain Axline from the room, Lieutenant Cartier crowded past them and entered the apartment, giving them a malignant scowl as he did so. When our friends were out of 82 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. hearing, the new arrival saluted the commander and asked: "General, may I inquire what those men who just left your presence were doing here?" "They came to offer their services as scouts." "And you engaged them, general?" "I did. Why do you ask?" Lieutenant Cartier was expecting the question, and was ready to play his part. With a fine show cf hesitation and embarrassment, he stammered : "I — I do — do not care to — ^that is " "Well?" the general said, sharply. "I have no reason for asking the question, ex- cept " and again he stopped. "Except what, Lieutenant?" Wayne cried, angrily. "Well, that man Barton, as he calls himself, is an Englishman " "How do you know ?" "A soldier from Wheeling told me." "What of it?" "Nothing, General, only " "You are a Frenchman." "Y-e-s." "And my ancestors were English from Ireland, and Jesus Christ was a Hebrew. But what has all that to do with Hal Barton's making a trustworthy scout, Cartier? Speak out — ^you're holding back something." Lieutenant Cartier's face flushed and his lips UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 83 twitched. It was evident that he was greatly embar- rassed or very angry. He answered chokingly: "Just this, General Wayne. The settlers of Wheeling, where he lived for some time, do not consider him loyal. They also accuse him of 'mur- dering his wife and making his cabin her funeral- pyre. All this a soldier from Wheeling told me this morning. Then, too. Barton" — ^here Cartier revealed his white teeth, and his voice was like the snarl of a savage cur — "attacked me last evening while I was talking to a young lady in the vil- lage " "Ah !" General Wayne interrupted, nodding vig- orously. "Well, go on." "And throwing me violently to the ground, con- ducted the young woman from my presence. He came upon me from behind, and of course I was un- prepared for his attack." "Was the attack unprovoked, Lieutenant?" "It was. General ; I had never spoken to him, had never seen him in my life." "And what did you do?" "I resented his unwarranted interference, his in- solence. I would have given him the chastisement he richly merited, but his companion leveled his rifle at me " "Lew Wetzel leveled his rifle at you ?" "Barton's companion did. He threatened to shoot me, if I stirred from my tracks." 84 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. "What you tell me is almost beyond belief, Lieu- tenant Cartier," Wayne said icily. "It is true, General." "No doubt, no doubt, Cartier. But I think you two men are rivals, though you don't seem to be aware of the fact. A mere lovers' affair! Let's hear no more about it." Cartier was not satisfied. He had expected Gen- eral Wayne to fly into a passion and declare that Barton and Wetzel should leave the camp at once. And here the old war-horse was condoning their offense. Cartier was piqued, indignant, astound- ed. Hitherto he had basked in the sunshine of the Commander's favor. Was it possible that he had lost caste ? Was he to be supplanted by a despised backwoodsman ? He made one more effort to influ- ence his superior officer against the Englishman. In an injured tone he said : "I really care naught for the fellow's attack upon me. General. But surely you do not mean to retain a man as scout — a most important office in such a campaign as we shall undertake — whose loyalty his own neighbors do not trust?" "Of course I'll retain him," Wayne answered ob- stinately. "Your persistency but proves to me that you two young men are rivals in love. Keep your boyish nonsense to yourself. Lieutenant. I've taken Mr. Barton on trial, on faith, just as I have taken every volunteer, yourself included. I believe my UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 85 judgment as good as the recruiting officer's. Let the matter drop." Lieutenant Cartier bowed and retired. As he moved in the direction of his own quarters, he ex- claimed aloud : "I must not suffer dfefeat — ^the stake is too great 1" Then, as though fearful that his exclamation had been overheard, he glanced about apprehensively and shivered. CHAPTER VII. The morning following their interview with Gen- eral Wayne, Barton and Wetzel left camp at sunrise and plunged into the depths of the forest. At dusk they returned, bringing with them an abundance of game. Their mess-mates showed their appreciation by clamorous shouts and grotesque antics; and the mess-cook promptly kicked over the camp kettle of lean beef and began to broil venison steaks upon the red coals. "You two men beat all the land-lubbers I ever saw," Jack Keelson cried, admiringly. "I b'lieve you'd be able to pr'vide grub fer a crew wrecked on a desert island. What stewards you'd make on a whalin' vessel ! Wouldn't you make a change o' diet, though? W'y, I've eat salt-horse an' sea-bis- cuits on shipboard, 'fore now, till I felt like tumin' , cannibal an' eatin' the cook hisself . You may use my body fer shark bait, if that ain't a fact." UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 87 "Stop y'r clack, yez noisy loon," Rory McFarlan bawled as he elbowed the sailor aside and faced Hal. "Mr. Barton, have yez seen Cap'n Axline, the day?" "I have not, McFarlan," was the smiling reply. "Well, he's been lookin' fer yez more n'r once; an he tould me to tell yez whin yez got back to camp to come to his quarters. He'd be afler spakin' wid yez." "Thank you, McFarlan." " 'Fore yez goes, Oi want to spake wid yez mesilf a moment, jist." The two men left the group around the campfire. When they had gone a few yards, McFarlan stop- ped and asked suddenly : "Barton, does yez count me an' Jack Keelson as y'rfri'nds?" "To be sure I do," Hal replied' wonderingly. "An' loike us, yez don't loike that mane, sn'akin' divil of a Lieutenant Cartier?" "I don't like him but I'd do him no harm, unless he sought to injure me or some of my friends," Bar- ton hastened to say. "Thot's all roight. Oi understands yez, an' yez understands me. Oi'm a sojer from the crown o' me hat to the soles o' me shoes ; an' oi don't loike to say a word 'g'inst an officer. But thot Lieutenant's up to some mischief, he is. Listen an' Oi'll be afther tellin' yez w'at Oi mane. Whoile yez an' Wetzel was out huntin', jist afther drill this fore- 88 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. noon, a mon comes into camp sellin' buttons, an' nadles, an' thread, an' all sich loike fixin's. He 'peared to be some koind of a furriner from his palaver. '!Wull, afther a toime, me an' Jack sees him a- houldin' a bit of a talk wid Lieutenant Cartier ; an' we ambles in thot diriction, jist. Would yez belave the word of an honest mon — an' Jack'll tell yez the same — ^thot furriner was sp'akin' as plain an' purty as Oi does mesilf, Hal Barton. Naither of the two sees me an' Jack ; an' we watches to see w'at they're doin'. The bate of it ! We couldn't hear much they said, but it was 'bout a bit o' paper the Lieutenant held in his hand. "An' as we was backin'.away, jist, to kape 'em from seein' us, thot dirthy spalpane of a Cartier gives the paper to the furriner an' tells him to skee- daddle. An' the furriner I'aves the camp an' goes back up the road. "But he didn't go up to the village — ^me an' Jack watches him. When he thought no one was lookin' he dodged into the woods — ^the sn'akin' cuss — an' was off loike the divil was afther him. W'at does yez s'pose was the m'anin' of it all ?" "You're sure of this, Rory?" Barton asked in- credulously. "Am Oi sure ? Am Oi sure thot me mother was a woman? Yez'd betther ask Jack Keelson thot question." UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 89 McFarlan called to the sailor, and, as the latter came rolling up, said: "Jack, Oi've been tellin' Hal Barton w'at we saw an' heard Lieutenant Cartier an' thot furriner doin' an' sayin' the day. Didn't we see 'em together. Jack?" "Aye, mate, we did." "An' hear 'em talkin' low an' secret loike ?" Jack nodded vigorously. "An' didn't the Lieutenant give- the strange mon a slip o' paper an' tell him to be off ?" "You're steerin' toward the truth, mate, an' the wind's in y'r favor." "An' whin the gr'asy furriner got the bit of paper, didn't he I'ave camp an' dodge into the woods loike the sly ould varmint that he was, jist?" "Right as main brace you are, Rory McFarlan." "There," Rory cried triumphantly, "didn't Oi tell yez the truth, Hal Barton?" "I didn't doubt your word, my friend," Hal ex- plained; "I could scarcely believe that I had heard aright. I thought you must have made a mistake." "Divil a bit's the mishtake Oi've made! An' now w'at me an' Jack wants to know is w'at to do about it all. Can't yez give us some advice, Hal, me bhoy ?" "Have I your permission to consult Wetzel?" Barton asked in reply. "Yes,'| McFarlan and Keelson answered in con- cert. "Very well. I'll let you know when we have 90 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. talked over the matter. Perhaps, too, I'd better speak to Captain Axline. He knows more of such things than any of us." "The very mon," Rory replied. "An' yez'll see him the noight?" "Yes, I'll see the Captain immediately after sup- per. How far were you from Lieutenant Cartier and the stranger when they were conversing ?" "About six fathoms," Jack said promptly. "So short a distance ? It seems strange that they didn't discover you." "We had our hulks moored around the corner o' the officers' mess-shed, an' was as still as a calm in the tropics," was the sailor's reply. "And no one else was near?" "Not a sowl," Rory answered positively. "Well — ^but the cook calls to supper. Breathe not a word of all this to anyone. It may mean much, and it may mean nothing* Can you describe the stranger to me ?" "A leather-faced, wiry little mon about me soize," McFarlan declared. "An' with two black eyes as near like Lieutenant Cartier's as one rope's end's like another's," Keelson completed. By this time the three friends had joined their comrades in a rush for the mess-table, and the sub- ject was dropped^ After supper Barton drew Wet- zel aside and told him of the meetings between Lieu- tenant Cartier and the mysterious stranger. With- A plump, fair-faced, little woman sprang over the sill and nestled in his arms (Page 7) UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 91 out a change of expression the scout received the information. "What do you think of it?" Hal asked when he had finished his recital. "I skeercely know what to think," Wetzel replied reflectively, "Did you say, Hal, that the peddler was a little dried-up, black-eyed man ?" "So Rory and the sailor described him." "Must 'ave been one o' them Frenchers from 'crost the lakes, then. That 'd seem to indicate he was in the pay o' them Britishers an' spyin' 'round here fer no good. If Lieutenant Cartier give him a pap.er, it prob'ly contained inf'rmation 'bout the strength o' the army. But I can't give you no ad- vice 'bout what's the best thing to do, Hal ; I don't know much 'bout these military rules an' regyla- tions. You'd best go an' ask Cap'n Axline. I wish to goodness the army'd soon git ready to move. I'll die, penned up here in this place — I can't stand it. I'm jest hankerin' to git on the trail of a redskin once more." It was twilight. As Hal Barton crossed the pa- rade ground toward Captain Axline's quarters, he drank in the beauties of his surroundings. A wall of dark green foliage surrounded the camp on all sides. Through the thin fringe of trees upon the shore, he could see the river. In the uncertain light the water looked glassy, green and cool. The dying campfires shone as faint sparks in the gathering gloom, and served to render duskier the figures 92 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. about them. The air was dose. At frequent inter- vals flashes of sheet lightning lent to the scene a momentary brightness. Then all was sweet, dusky twilight again. Hal was thinking of the present. But for some reason the present was linked with the past. Why should Judith Sterling's face rise before him ? She was naught to him, nor could she ever be. He had put love behind him. And why did Margaret's brown eyes again gaze into his and Margaret's soft voice, as soft as a caress, again breathe love in his ear? He shook himself angrily. He would have none pf it. Yet in spite of his sturdy resolve, the two faces hovered about him; and left him only when he stood in the presence of Captain Axline. "Come in," the Captain called cheerily as Hal rapped upon the half-open door. As the Englishman stepped over the sill the officer was seated at a rough desk writing. A tallow can- dle stuck in a wide-mouthed ink-jug served to light the room and show its barrenness. The floor was of hard-packed earth; the walls, of unhewn logs. A rude table, a desk and a few stools constituted the furniture. A couch of poles and undressed furs occupied one end of the room. However, the cap- tain had no cause for complaint ; his apartment was as well furnished as that of General Wayne. Mad Anthony's officers did not grow effeminate through luxurious surroundings. When Captain Axline saw who it was he threw UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 93 down his quill and with outstretched hand moved toward his visitor. "Be seated, Barton," he said, warmly grasping Hal's hand. "I hardly know how to address you, what to call you. You lay claim to no title, and yet in some way you are superior to ordinary men." "Call me plain Hal Barton," answered the En- glishman, the faintest hint of annoyance in his tone. "Please be seated," Captain Axline insisted, push- ing a stool toward his caller. "And don't be an- noyed. I assure you no flattery was intended. I am vain enough to imagine myself a student of human nature ; and I feel that you're far above the fellows with whom you associate. Be that as it may, I consider you an equal, a friend. I'll call you Hal, if you'll call me Ed." This last sentence the officer uttered with a smile. "You may call me what you like," Barton replied, smiling in return. "As for myself, I cannot forget that you are Captain Axline." The two seated themselves, and the Captain re- marked, tentatively: "I suppose McFarlan told you that I desired to see you?" "Yes." For a full minute the young officer was silent, apparently lost in reflection. Then he resumed : "When I met you upon the parade ground yes- terday, your face vividly recalled to my mind our first meeting, when I was on my way to Philadel- 94 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. phia with the news of General St. Glair's defeat. I recognized you as a man whom I had met but once before in my life, and accosted you as one is in the habit of accosting a chance acquaintance. Had I known what I have since learned, I should have greeted you much more cordially, I assure you. Last evening I went to call upon Robert Sterling and daughters. There,! learned from the lip's of Miss Judith herself, that you shielded her from Lieuten- ant Cartier's unreasonable anger and threats of vio- lence. Of course, I don't believe he would have dared to harm her; but your act was none the less brave. Miss Judith was greatly alarmed and greatly impressed with your bravery " "It was nothing," Hal interrupted half testily. "It was much to Miss Judith and her friends. And as a friend of her family, I wish to thank you on behalf of myself; and invite you to call at the house, that they may show you how much they ap- preciate what you did." "I understand. Captain Axline, that it was you who introduced Lieutenant Cartier to Robert Ster- ling and his daughters ?" "It was I — I am sorry to say." "You know no more of me than you know of your brother officer, not so much, perhaps. You may make another mistake." Captain Axline looked keenly at the speaker. What sort of man was this cool, suave giant? He could not fathom him. He expected to see him UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 95 smjling, but no, his expression was calm and dig- nified. "You're a gentleman, are you not, Hal Barton?" the Captain asked very earnestly. "I lay claim to that honor," was the quiet reply. "Then what mistake can I make in introducing you to my friends?" was Captain Axline's next question. "You made a mistake in presenting Lieutenant Cartier." "Perhaps, but " "Undoubtedly he assured you that he was a gen- tleman. You have my word as you had his, no more." "Mr. Barton," the officer said frigidly, "cease to speak riddles. Make your meaning plain. If you don't wish to honor my friends by calling upon them " "But I do," Hal interrupted. "Then why this vague talk ?" The blonde giant smiled as he replied: "Captain Axline, I shall consider it a great honor to be per- mitted to call upon your friends, the Sterlings. I wished, however, to ascertain that you really de- sired me to do so ; and were not extending the invi- tation as a debt- of gratitude that Miss Judith and her relatives feel they owe me." "You're a bluif, blunt fellow, Hal Barton " Hal nodded, and the Captain concluded : "And I'll stake my life that you're a brave and g6 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. honest man. The matter is settled. Tomorrow evening we'll call upon the young ladies and their father. I'm very sorry Lieutenant Cartier so far forgot himself as to offer violence to a lady; and doubly sorry you were compelled to chastise him. He's an able ofificer and enjoys the confidence of our beloved commander, General Wayne ; but he's a pas- sionate Frenchman — " "And a pusillanimous poltroon and traitor !" Hal Barton fairly hissed the words between his teeth. All his suavity had disappeared; his icy calmness had melted away in the heat of his rising ire. His blue eyes glittered and his shaggy mane bristled. The sputtering candle silhouetted his great head upon the rough wall; and his companion re- marked the resemblance of the shadow to the picture of a roused lion. "Barton — Barton ! What do you mean ?" gasped the astonished Captain. The Englishman shook himself like some big ani- mal, and bringing his brawny fist down upon the table with a force that made it bound from the floor, cried : "You know well what I mean. Captain Axline, when I say that Lieutenant Cartier is a poltroon ! ! ! He has proven himself such. I've no patience with you when you attempt to extenuate his cowardly act. 'As to the latter part of my statement, he's a traitor to our country's cause, I believe." "I understand your feelings toward Lieutenant UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 97 Cartier, Barton, and honor you for your chivalrous loyalty to womankind. But you've made a grave charge against my comrade-in-arms; a charge that — if it came to the ears of the commander, will make serious trouble for somebody, I fear. Will you not explain fully what you mean ?" "Gladly. I came to your quarters with the inten- tion of laying the matter before you and asking your advice." Hal had partially recovered his composure. And now he quietly told the Captain all he had heard from McFarlan and Keelson. The young officer listened to the recital with rapt attention. When the speaker had finished, his listener remarked smil- ingly : "I fear, Barton, you've allowed Rory's exaggerat- ed statements and your own aversion to Lieutenant Cartier to lead you astray. Hasn't it occurred to you that the Lieutenant was simply sending a note of apology to Miss Judith ?" "No," Hal answered bluntly. "Well," the Captain resumed calmly, "I think that's the explanation. Lieutenant Cartier enlisted at Pittsburg. He came direct from the French army, he has an honorable discharge. He's a fine tacti- cian and a thorough soldier. I'm loath to believe him other than a " and Captain Axline hesitated and stopped. "Other than what, Captain?" Hal asked in an even tone. ' 98 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. "Other than a man who would give his life for his country's cause." "You believe him incapable of treachery, then ?" "I must believe so," the officer answered warmly- "Barton, you don't appear to understand that a man's innocent until he's proven guilty. And there's no evidence that Lieutenant Cartier has contemplated a treasonable act, even." "You believe the slip- of paper was intenlded for Miss Judith, Captain?" "Yes." "Why didn't the Lieutenant send it by one of our own men? Why did he choose a stranger? And above all, why was he so anxious to avoid observa- tion?" "Question me no further — I cannot answer your queries," was Captain Axline's rather petulant reply. "Have you any advice to offer, Captain?" Hal continued coolly. "Yes." "Well?" "I'd advise you to say nothing of your suspicions. If they're true, we'll learn the truth in time; if they're false, the less said the sooner mended. Don't you agree with me, Hal Barton, my friend ?" And Captain Axline arose and laid his hand affec- tionately upon his companion's shoulder. "Yes, I agree with you," Barton returned with a smile, "But I'm a man of positive convictions, of warm likes and dislikes; and I've not changed my UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. pg opinion of the man or the matter. Goodnight, Cap- tain." "Goodnight. Don't forget our engagement for tomorrow evening." Hal Barton left the flickering light within for the dewy dusk without. The fires had died down and the camp was in darkness. He found his comrades wrapped in slumber, and their regular breathing mingling with the buzz of insect life about them. Just as he was crossing the boundary of the mystical land of dreams, he heard a sentry call the hour of ten o'clock and announce that all was well. Then the giant, his head pillowed upon his arfflj slept CHAPTER VIII. Again the pallid fingers of dawn reached above the eastern hilltops and lifted the curtain of night. Before there was any sign of life in the camp, a solitary, indistinct figure stole past the drowsy sen- try and disappeared in the dark woodland. As the man With incredible celerity glided through the in- tricate tangle of the forest, he softly chuckled to himself : "It's all right fer Gener'l Wayne to place sentries. They're first rate to keep soldiers in 'r In j ins out, p'r'aps ; but w'en Lew Wetzel makes up his mind he wants to go 'r come, he won't wait to ask leave. May be my potions ain't 'cordin' to military rules, but they're 'cordin' to the rules o' natur'. I crawled along right under that sleepy feller's nose an' he wan't none the wiser. Well, I guess I've gone 'bout far enough till it grows lighter. I ought to strike that spyin' varmint's trail not far from this spot. I UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. loi couldn't sleep all night, fer thinkin' 'bout him. Ther's somethin' wrong. An' I'm a-goin' to find out what it is." Little by little, the faint light of morning insinu- ated itself among the trees and filtered through the leafy branches. The scout stood leaning upon his rifle and straining his eyes through the semi-gloom that surrounded him. Of a sudden he started and muttered : "Jest as I thought, here's the critter's footprints. An' he hain't took no pains to conceal 'em. On- doubtedly thought he was dealin' with ord'nary sol- diers; didn't s'pose he'd have Lew Wetzel on his trail. His track is hours cold, but I can foUer it. An' I'll know where he's goin' an' what he's up to 'fore the sun sets twice more." Shouldering his gun, the scout set off through the woods, -slowly at first, but more rapidly as the increasing light enabled him to follow the trail more easily. With long, rapid strides he covered mile after mile, pausing only to stoop and drink from some brook, or to lift his coonskin cap from his forehead, brush away the sweatdrops, and sweep his piercing gaze around him. At noon he did not stop ; but satisfied his hunger by a few pieces of dried meat he had in his pouch. He was traversing the Miami valley, moving northward as fast as his un- tiring zeal and strength could carry him. Night came. Supperless he went to bed upon the bare ground, his trusty weapon hugged to his 102 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER, breast. At break of day h^ was again upon the trail. Occasionally he paused to eat a handful of wild raspberries. The sun rose to the zenith, and began to dfescend the western arc of the hfeavens. Still he kept on. "I'd give a purty thing fer a hunk o' broiled veni' son ; I'm 'most famished," he thought as he rested a moment and mopped his face. "But it won't do to have a gun speakin' in these parts; there's too many keen ears might- hear it, It's purty aggra- vatin', though, fer I saw the purtiest pair o' antkrs jest a few minutes ago. But 'twon't do. The trail's gittin' too hot. 'Fore sundown I'll be lookin at the back o' that sneakin' cuss that's carryin' that paper from Lieutenant Cartier to some Britisher. 'F I can only ketch him alone, I'll soon end the whole business. Dead men tell no tales, an' they carry no more papers, neither. I hate to kill a white man. But then a Frencher ain't much better'n an Injin. It's got to be done, anyhow. I'm 'fraid every min- ute he'll jine some party o' redskins an ' git out o' my reach." In the dense forest there was not the whisper of a breeze. The air was almost suffocating. After a half hour's brisk walking, Wetzel stopped suddenly, and leaped behind a tree. Just a few yards in ad- vance he had caught sight of the object of his quest. Carefully looking to the priming of his rifle, he cautiously pursued the disappearing figure. It was growing dusk. Soon his aim would bs un- UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 103 certain. Realizing this, the scout hurried forward. But he was doomed to disappointment. Just as he had thrown his rifle to his shoulder and was sight- ing along the gleaming barrel, a chorus of shouts greeted his ears. Then the man he pursued stepped into an open glade, and was immediately surround- ed by a company of half-clad Indians and outlaws. With a groan of anger and chagrin, the scout dropped to the ground and lay quiet. The camp was in full view, not a hundred yards away from him. He ground his teeth in silent rage as he watched the dark forms flitting to and fro around the new arrival. But the distance was too great; he could not see distinctly what was going on, nor hear. With a recklessness born of failure, he slow- ly and cautiously wriggled nearer. When within thirty yards of the camp, he secreted himself behind a small hummock and devoted his undivided atten- tion to the play enacting before him. For the first time the scout got a full view of the man whom' he had tracked so far. The latter was a lithe, active and wizened half-breed — "half French- er an' half Injin," Wetzel decided. Other half- breeds and Indians, to the number of two score, stood around him and listened eagerly to what he was saying. The leader of the party, whom the half-breed was addressing, stood where the light of the flickering campfire fell full upon him. He was a white man of meditim height, but active and mus- cular. His garb was wildly picturesque, consisting I04 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. of a suit of fringed and beaded buckskin with leg- gings and moccasins to match. His arms were of the finest — the butts of his pistols and gun inlaid with bits of silver, pearl and ivory. A red-and- yellow silk handkerchief encircling his head partially concealed a livid scar upon his brow. Wetzel caught his breath sharply and muttered : "Simon Girty! Now the mischief is to pay fer sure. But hark ! What is it that French-Injin's a- sayin'?" "Me went to ze camp of ze Thirteen Fires; me find ze Lieutenant Cartier. I sell him tree — four — five tings from ze pack. Zen we talk an' nobody hear. Lieutenant Cartier gave me ze paper an' say begone. Here it is, Captain." A smile of satisfaction swept over Girty's face. He eagerly stretched out his hand, and hastily thrust the bit of parchment into the pocket of his hunting shirt, without so much as glancing at its contents. "Must place a pow'rful sight o' value on that bit o' paper," grumbled Wetzel in deep disgust. "Never even stopped to read it. Wolves an' bears ! but I'd like right smart to know what's in it. Howsom- ever, I guess I'm clean beat out this time " He stopped abruptly to listen, and heard the out- law saying: "You're a jewel, Jean. Here's the dagger and bag of gold I promised you. Buy good liquoj- with the money, and keep the knife to drink some thiev- Under mad anthony's banner. 105 ing, lying Yankee's blood. You've done well, though it wasn't much of an undertaking after all. All it required was a little pluck and cunning, and you've got both. You're sure no one suspected you?" The half-breed shook his head. "Nor followed you?" Wetzel breathlessly awaited the fellow's reply. "Me sure no one follow Jean," the half-breed an- swered as he thrust the dagger into his belt and jingled the yellow coins in his palm. "That's all, then. Now, men, let's have supper and to sleep ; tomorrow we've a hard journey before us. It's many miles from here to the lakes ; and the commandant 'II be anxiously awaiting our coming. With Lieutenant Cartier at one end of the line and the British at the other, it'll be strange if we don't outflank' General Wayne as we did St. Clair. Though Wayne's as crafty as a fox and as bold as the devil himself." The last two sentences Girty uttered to himself, as he strode to a fallen log and seated himself upon it, not ten yards from the spot where Wetzel lay. The scout almost gasped for breath, but not on account of his own safety. The temptation assailed him to make one final effort to recover the paper the outlaw had in his bosom. The Indians and half- breeds were busily engaged at the campfire, raking over coals and broihng strips of flesh upon them. "Wonder if I'd better try it?" mused the scout io6 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. as he flattened himself closer to the earth and panted with suppressed excitement. " 'F I succeed, I'll fid the world of a monster an' git that paper. 'F I fail, it'll let 'em know ther's been somebody on that French-Injin's trail — ^an' spoil everything. It'll only take one little stab— but 'twon't db; it's too risky. I ain't afraid 'bout myself, but — — " A moment more he hesitated; and that moment proved fatal to his contemplated plan. Girty arose and slowly returned to the group around the fire. It was now quite dark. With the noiselessness and Celerity of a serpent, Wetzel glided away in the darkness. A half hour later he was beyond sight and hearing of his enemies and speeding rapidly toward the Ohio river, miles away. At Hobson's Choice, the morning of the scout's departure upon the trail of the half-breed, Hal Bar- ton arose early. His sleep had been broken and unrefreshing. Conflicting thoughts and emotions were striving for the mastery. He missed his friend ; but was neither surprised nor worried. He had become accustomed to Wetzel's moods and actions, and did not doubt that eccentric individual was am- ply able to take care of himself. He had a suspicion that the mysterious stranger, who had visited the camp on the preceding day, had to do with the scout's absence ; but the Englishman kept his own counsel. "Wot luck did yez have wid Cap'n Axline?" Mc- UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 107 Farlan inquired in a stage whisper, as he and Keel- son met Hal at the mess'table. "None," was the cautious reply. "He gives little credence to your story and advises us to wait." "Wait, is it ?" snorted Rory, unable to control his rising ire. "Some more o' that dommed waitin' p'ace-policy. Wait it is 'ntil the Britishers 'ave fur- nished the bloody red naygurs wid the means o' defeatin' us — wait 'ntil Lieutenant Cartie r " "Avast, Rory!" cautioned Jack. "Your mouth's like a powder magazine, ready to go off any min- ute. Keep a cool head 'r you'll blow us all into perdition. These mates mustn't know what we know." The Irishman curbed his fiery temper ; but he sat and grumbled to himself for an hour afterward. That evening Hal Barton went with Captain, Ax- line to call upon the Sterlings. He was cordially welcomed by the father and two daughters, and thanked over and over. Although the sisters were twins, Joanna appeared to be the younger. She was more vivacious and childlike than Judith, and looked to the latter for advice and guidance. They were almost identical in personal appearance, and their dark beauty contrasted strongly with the sandy hair, light blue eyes and fair skin of Robert Sterling. It was very evident that they were much more like their Irish mother. The young people spent the warm evening in pleasant converse, Mr. Sterling taking but little io8 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. part. Sitting upon the log step with Judith, and looking out upon the Ohio shimmering in "the moon- light, Hal Barton, for some mysterious reason, was happier than he had been for months. Captain Axline and Joanna occupied seats near them. Dur- ing a lull in the conversation the ofSficer asked sud- denly : "Miss Judith, did you receive a communication from Lieutenant Cartier yesterday?" A shade of annoyance swept over the young woman's beautiful face, and she set her lips in a hard, straight line as she replied: "I did not." The Captain lifted his black eyebrows in surprise. "Nor today ?" he continued. "Nor today." "No note of apology?" "Nothing," she interrupted coldly. "Nor am I anxiotis to receive his apologies. Why do you in- quire so closely. Captain Axline?" "Why, I — I," he stammered, "had reason to think that the Lieutenant sent you a note of apology, that's all. It doesn't matter. Please forget that I in- quired." The subject was dropped ; but the two young men exchanged significant glances. "You'll call again, will you not?" Judith said to Ha.1 at parting. "If you desire it," he answered with the accent on the personal pronoun. UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 109 "I do desire it," was the frank, but modest reply. "Very well, I'll call again, and soon." And dropping her hand he hastened to overtake his com- rade. The two young men sauntered toward Hobson's Choice. Apparently each was -busy with his own thoughts, for neither spoke until they were nearing the camp. Then Captain Axline remarked : "Barton, I was mistaken about that piece of paper Cartier gave to the peddler." "Yes," was the quiet reply. "And I'm now convinced that there's some truth in your suspicions," the officer continued. "Tomor- row I'll lay the whole matter before General Wayne. But say nothing to anyone." "All right," Hal replied absent-mindedly. He was thinking of Judith Sterling and not of Rudolphe Cartier. Rousing himself, he added hastilv: "I've placed the matter in your hands. Captain; do whatever you think best." "Who goes there?" demanded a familiar voice. "Friends," answered Captain Axline. "As if Oi didn't know thot !" continued the voice sneeringly. "But yez'U not git into camp the noight, Cap'n, 'f yez don't give the proper word, jist. Ar- rah ! but yez know, it don't yez ? Well, in yez goes, an' good luck to yez both in y'r love-makin'. is the wish o' Rory McFarlan." CHAPTER IX. At the eatliest oppoftuiiitv Captain AjtHne sought an interview with the commanding officer. The General was exaniining a foil of maps and dictating memoranda to Lieutenant Cartief. "You desire to see me, Axline?" the old watrlor asked, whirling briskly and facing the captain. "I do, General, but " And Axline glanced significantly at Cartief, who had his back toward them. General Wayne understood his subordinate's meaning look, and said quickly : "If you've anything of a private nature to com- municate, Captain, yoa needn't mind your brother officer. Lieutenant Cartief, like every ether officer in the army, I trust, is discretion itself." "But I desire to see you alone, General, on a per- sonal matter," Axline explained. UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. in "Very well but you must be brief; I'm very busy. Lieutenant Cartier, you may retire. I'll call you when we are through." Cartier arose slowly, not deigning to notice Cap- tain Axline, and, gathering up his writing materials, reluctantly quitted the apartment. When the door had closed behind the retreating officer, General Wayne pointed to a stool, saying: "Be seated, Axline, and be brisk with your busi- ness. As briefly as possible, the junior officer made the senior acquainted with the object of his visit. The General listened impassively. When the younger man had finished the older asked, smilingly : "Is that all, Captain Axline?" "Yes, General," replied the Captain in a tone of surprise. He could not understand his superior's smiling indifference, "Well," resumed Wayne, "to use a backwoods expression, you're barking up the wrong tree. Ax- line, I took you for a young man of keener discern- ment. You know, or should know, as well as I, that this man Barton and Lieutenant Cartier are rivals for a certain young lady's favors " "General Wayne !" interrupted the Captain "What?" the older man cried irritably. "You're mistaken, General," Axline hastened to say. "Hal Barton has been here but a few days. He's hardly acquainted with Miss Judith Sterling, 112 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. to whom Lieutenant Cartier has been devoting his attentions — z=i' "And yet they are rivals. Cartier has confessed as much to me. You see, Axline, this is simply a lover's quarrel. First Cartier comes with a com- plaint against Barton; now you, as Barton's mouthpiece, come with a charge against the Lieu- tenant. It's all boyish nonsense. And, as I told Cartier, I'll hear no more of it — ^not a word." "But, General," the Captain insisted. "Rory Mc- Farlan and Jack Keelson saw " . "Yes, yes ; I know what you would say. But they saw nothing of a suspicious nature — absolutely nothing. What if Lieutenant Cartier did give a peddler of gimcracks a bit of paper, eh ? A note to his lady love, undoubtedly " "Miss Judith received no communication from Lieutenant Cartier." "Well, the man may not have delivered it or it may have been intended for some other young lady. You young bloods are gay Lotharios. No, no, Ax- line; it won't do. Your accusation is absurd. Would you have me believe that your brother officer is a traitor?" Captain Axline remained silent and the General resumed : "Now, Captain, if you wish to retain my favor, you'll never mention this matter again. I have all confidence in Lieutenant Cartier. On the other hand, I believe Hal Barton to be an honest man. UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 113 Therefore, I'll not take one side nor the other, in this petty quarrel, nor shall I permit any of my officers to do so. As a final word, let me hear no more of it. You may retire." With a crestfallen air and a feeling that he had received scant courtesy, Captain Axline left General Wayne's presence and returned to his quarters. "General Wayne won't listen to a word against Lieutenant Cartier," he muttered. "Why? Of course Cartier's a good soldier — there's no gainsay- ing that — ^but may he not be a spy in the camp ? The General's obstinate, unreasonable. And yet " And the young officer smiled grimly. — "I was just as unreasonable when Hal Barton first informed me of what Rory and Jack had seen. There's some- thing desperately wrong about this matter, and the whole thing rests with me. But what can I db? General Wayne will listen to nothing further, unless I can produce positive proof of Cartier's guilt. I must rely upon myself and my friends to thwart this villain, for villain I am convinced he is. "For the present I can only wait and watch. Would to God I had sent Barton and Wetzel in pursuit of that rascally peddler ! They would have run him to earth and brought back the telltale paper — the very evidence I need." For several days Captain Axline did not get an opportunity to communicate to Hal Barton the re- sult of his interview with General Wayne. In the meantime, Wetzel returned to camp and informed 114 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. his friends of the cause of his absence, and of what he had seen and heard. To Hal the news seemed of grave importance; and, consumed with excite- ment and impatience, he went in search of Captain Axline. He found the young officer in earnest con- versation with McFarlan and Keelson at his quar- ters. "Good evening, Barton," was the Captain's greet- ing. "Is this true that Rory and Jack have just been telling me?" i Ere Hal could frame a reply, Rory snorted an- grily: "Is it true, Cap'n ! Does yez doubt the word of an ould sojer thot's smelt gunpowder so much he feels lonesome if a whiff of it ain't in every passin' breeze ?" '"Be quiet, Rory," said the officer somewhat stern- ly. "I'm not doubting your word ; I wish simply to confirm your statement. You might have mis- understood Wetzel " "Misunderstood ! Cap'n, Oi'll give yez to under- stand thot Rory McFarlan can come as near tellin' w'at's in a bottle by the shmell o' the stopper, as any mon in the army, jist." "Hard down on y'r helm there, Rory," cried Jack. "Don't you see you're gittin' into deep water ? Let the Cap'n an' Hal Barton untangle this snarl in the riggin'," "What is it you desire to know?" inquired Hal, addressing the officer. UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 115 "Just this. Rory and Jack tell me that your friend. Lew Wetzel, followed the peddler and ob- tained important proof of Lieutenant Cartier's per- fidy. Is it true?" "It is true, Captain." And Hal gave a detailed account of Wetzel's pur- suit of the half'breed. Captain Axline was silent for some minutes. Then he remarked: "Wetgel saw this half-br^ed deliver the paper into the hands of Simon Girty ?" "Yes." "I'm sorry the scout was not able to overtake the scoundrel, ere he reached the renegade's camp. We need that paper, need it badly. With it I could go to General Wayne and convice him of the truth of Cartier's guilt. As it is, we must bide our time. The General has threatened me with his disfavor. I dare not go to him again without positive proof—" "Begorrah!" Rory ejaculated. "There's nothin' to prevjnt inesilf goin' to ould Mod Anthony an' explainin' the dirthy doin's o' thot rascally bladk-- guard. Oi'll do it, jiat." "No, no!" Captafn Axline said, hastily. '*Rory, you'd ruin eT?€r3fthing ; leave it all to Bartoo and me "Pull in y'r pars an' stop splashin', Rory," Keel- son interjected, "Lock up that big sea-chist yez call y'r mouth, 'r Oi'll plant me fist in it. Jack Keelson !" McFarlan clenched his hands and dashed at his ii6 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. comrade. With a jeering laugh, the nimble-footed sailor danced around the irate Irishman; and the two gradually circjed to anpther part of the camp. When they were out of earshot Captain Axline re- sumed : "Hal Barton, the salvation of -this army probably rests upon our shoulders. You understand ?" "I do, perfectly." "That's all, then. We must restrain Rory and Jack. Wetzel is discreet. If you learn anything more, let me know promptly. General Wayne thinks this is a personal quarrel between you and Lieutenant Cartier. The latter has complained of your attack upon him on the night of your arrival. You've been instrumental in raising suspicion against the Lieutenant. As a consequence the com- mander looks upon the whole thing as a case of personal antipathy, a sort of lovers' quarrel. Noth- ing further can be done at present but we must keep our eyes and ears open. Hal Barton, my coun- try needs your help." "Anything that an honorable man can do, I'll do f6r the safety and glory of my country; and my country is the United States of America I" was Hal's earnest answer. The two men clasped hands. Their faces were flushed. Then, without a word, the Englishman whirled and strode away, leaving his companion staring after him. All through July one hot, sultry day succeeded UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. it/ another. The hospital was filled with fever patients. Then came August with its cool nights and furnace- like days ; and influenza and dysentery joined forces with malaria. The ranks of the army were deci- mated. However, the soldiers ceased their murmur- ings and bore their ill fortune with the fortitude of veterans. One day, they were cheered and stimu- lated by the report that the government's peace commission had failed, and that the army was to move at once ; and the next, they were depressed by a counter report that no news at all had been re- ceived from the seat of government. August passed and September ushered in the cold fall rains. The quarters at Hobson's Choice were open and uncomfortable. General Wayne looked upon his suffering troops, and swore more than one sulphurous oath at the dilatory policy that had kept him from opening the campaign during good weather. Discipline was maintained and drills and maneuvers were continued. Lew Wetzel and Hal Barton spent their time in procuring wild meat for their messmates, and in longing for the order to advance into the Indian country. That is, the for- mer was actively anxious for the campaign to open ; the latter, but passively so, for Barton, like Cap- tain Axline, would have been content to linger in the vicinity of Cincinnati, had not duty promised to call him elsewhere. Hal's acquaintance with Judith Sterling had rip- ened into warm friendship. Seldom did an evening ii8 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. pass that he and his military friend were not callers at the Sterling residence. The Captain and Miss Joanna were betrothed; and many were the tears Judith's sister shed in private over the thought that her lover would leave her soon, perhaps never to return. Hal Barton saw whither he was drifting, and more than once resolved to break off his acquaint- ance with the Sterling family. But he went on. He realized at last that he loved the beautiful Ju- dith, and felt that she loved him. Her every tone and action betrayed the secret in spite of her maid- enly reserve. Hal was greatly distressed. A cloud hung over his past life. Although his wife had proven false, he did not feel free to love this inno- cent girl. Margaret's face faded from his memory ; Judith's face was there in its stead. • He had loved his wife dearly; but that seemed long, long ago. He had thought to love her always, and now he loved another with equal fervor. Margaret was of the dead; Judith, of the present. Why should he not love her ? Why should he make himself miser- able over what hadjaeen beyond his control? He blushed when he thought of how easily he had for- gotten the woman who had linked her fate with his. He paled when he thought of relinquishing all claim to Judith's love. He argued with himself. It was wrong for him to think of loving Judith. He had buf half a heart to offer her. It was a lie; he loved her with his UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. iig whole soul. Perhaps when he told her all she would scorn him. False. He knew her only too well. He would reveal the past to her and let her decide. Coward! He was a strong man; he would do nothing of the kind. Although he was brave and strong, he was not of warlike disposition. He eX' erted his great strength in combat only when neces- sary. He had no bloodthirsty tasta for war ; he loved the arts of peace. The fondest wish of his heart was for a peaceful home. Was he to be de- nied this boon ? Was the perfidy of one woman to ruin his whole life? But had Margaret deserted him voluntarily ? Might there not be some horrible mistake ? Was not her own confession of guilt next to his heart ! Tossed this way and that by conflicting currents of emotion, he passed many restless days. Septem- ber was drawing to a close. Rumors wera abroad in the camp that late as was the season the campaign would be opened before the advent of winter. He must decide promptly. He could, not leave Judith, perhaps never to see her again, without an under- standing. He would go to her and tell her of the past, of his overmastering love for her. He de- cided, vacillated, hesitated, and was undetermined again. Fate cut the gordian knot for him. One glorious autumn day late in September, Hal and Judith wandered into the forest adjacent to the village. There had been a heavy frost the night before, and the russet and crimson leaves were 120 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. dropping to earth. From the cloudless sky the yel- low sunlight streamed ; and the crisp breeze played mad pranks with the falling leaves and Judith's dark tresses. The lovers had been talking of the coming campaign and its probable result. Then a half mournful silence fell upon them. Stopping upon the brink of a deep, but narrow gully, they stood mutely surveying the landscape. The breeze stiffened and sent the dead leaves whirling into the ravine at their feet. The forest trees swayed, creaked and moaned. Hal was arous- ed from his reverie by a rattling, thunderous sound directly overhead. Intuitively he knew what it meant. Catching Judith in his arms, he cleared the gully with a mighty bound and stood upon the op- posite bank. He was not a second too soon. With a reverberating roar a huge limb fell where they had stood. Half fainting, Judith clung to him. "Oh! Hal— Mr. Barton, I " Then, blushing and trembling, she sought to with- draw from his embrace. But he held her fast. She read his soul in his eyes, and hid her flushed coun- tenance upon his breast. "Judith !" he said, half fiercely. She made no reply. I "Judith," he repeated, tenderly, lovingly. "What, Hal?" came the faint' whisper in reply. "I love you dearly, Judith. Give me what I have saved, give me your sweet self." UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 121 She was startled at the bluntness of his proposal. Her eyes dropped before his passionate gaze and she -trembled visibly, but made no reply. Gently seating her, he told her of his love. "Judith," he said at last, "do you love me ? Will you consent to be my wife ?" For a moment she hesitated. Then nestling in his arms, she gently pushed the tawny hair from his eager face, and kissing him, whispered softly: "Yes, Hal. You are my king. I love you." Very slowly they found their way back to the village. At the edge of the wood he kissed her and bade her good-by. He saw her dress of dark woolen outlined against the gray logs of the house, saw her wave a white hand to him — arid then she disap- peared within doors. With bowed head and thoughtful mien, he strode away toward Hobson's Choice. He looked little like the bold lover trium- phant over all difficulties. He was elated and de- pressed by turns Had he acted for the best? What would be the final outcome of it all? He shook himself, and condemned himself for a moody coward. Then he smiled brightly — and again re- lapsed into the depths of gloom. The sun was setting. As Hal drew near the camp, he was greeted by unusual sights and sounds. The dull rumble of drums rolled up and down the valley, and the piercing screams of fifes and bugles echoed far up the wooded slopes. Men were shout- ing themselves hoarse, and dogs were barking. 122 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. Squads of soldiers, bearing 'the colors of tljeir re- spective regiments, marched up and down the pa- rade ground. All was bustle and confusion. Offi- cers met and wrung each other's hands. Privates hugged each other and danced in mad delight. Some of the sick, even, crawled from their couches, smiling wearily and cheering feebly. Then the sun- set gun at Fort Washington awoke the echoes for miles up and down the valley, and an answering roar from hundreds of throats arose from Hobson's Choice. 'What's the meaning of all this hubbub?" Hal inquired of himself. Ere he could shape a satisfactory answer in his mind, Rory McFarlan and Jack Keelson saw him and ran toward him. "Wat's the mater wid yez that yez don't let yV b'ig voice out in a whoop an' hooroar, Hal Bar- ton ?" the Irishman shouted. "Why should I ?" returned Barton. "Listen at the mon!" gasped Rory, a dumb- founded look upon his face. "He's as dumb as a lobster," cried Jack in dis- gust. "But what's all this about?" demanded Hal, catching the two by their collars and shaking them playfully. •'An' hain't yez heard ?" Rory exploded. "Hain't you heard the news?" Jack gurgled. "No," Barton cried impatiently. UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 123 "Sure!" bawled Rory. "Ould Mod Anthony's jist heard from the gover'ment. The message got here an hour ago, jist. The p'ace-comijiission's a fizzle an' a failure; an' Giner'l Washin'ton says to lambast the red naygurs to our heart's contint. The army'U be on the move in a week 'r two, Hal Bar- ton. Hooroar !" CHAPTER X. It was on the twenty-third day of September that General Wayne received the communication from General Knox, secretary of war, advising him of the failure of the i>eace-commission, and authoriz- ing him to open the campaign as soon as he thought he could make it sharp and effective. Two weeks later the General had everything in readiness. On the seventh of October, the entire army, two thous- and six hundred strong, moved out of its camp at Hobson's Choice and took up the march for the Indian country. An animated scene presented itself to the citizens of Cincinnati on that historic morning. Mad An- thony and his staff reined in their steeds at the out- skirts of the camp, and impatiently awaited the final preparations for departure. Inferior officers spurred hither and thither, forming the troops in marching order. Horses neighed, oxen lowed, and UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 123 dogs barked. The commands of officers, the cheers of privates, and the curses of teamsters mingled with the creak and rattle of heavily-laden wagons and carts. The ground was soft from recent rains, and the lumbering vehicles cut deep into the black mould of the forest. Scarcely had the long line wormed its way from the site of the camp, ere it was halted to lighten loads and double teams. It was during this stop that Captain Axline and Hal Barton stepped aside to steal a last word with their sweethearts, who were watching the .caval- cade. McFarlan shifted from one leg to the other as he stood in the ranks, and looked first at the lov- ers and then at Wetzel and Keelson, with a half- quizzical, half forlorn expression of countenance. Jack and the scout were also gazing at the young people^the former with a grave face and a sus- picious moisture about the corners of his eyes, the latter with his chin resting impassively upon the muzzle of his rifle. "Be the howly St. Pathrick, but it's a foine thing to 'ave a swateheart!" Rory jerked out at last. "Would yez look at 'em out there. Jack Keelson? Did yez iver see the bate of it? Billin' an' cooin' loike four young turkle-doves. Arrah ! but it's a foine soight sure. Ther's nothin' loike havin' a swateheart to I'ave behoind yez whin yez goes to war, jist." "Yes, it's a fine thing to 'ave a sweetheart !" Jack sneered pessimistically, as he dashed the back of his 126 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. hand across his eyes. "A fine thing, indeed, to leave 'er at home to cry 'er eyes out. A soldier 'r sailor has no business to he spliced 'r anchored to a female. Look at them two mates — every yard o' canvas set fer the voyage, an' the'r anchors still overboard. They won't be ready to sail in a week, 'nless somebody cuts the'r painters an' lets 'em drift out o' port, with the tide. What do you know about sweethearts, anyhow, Rory McFarlan?" "An' w'at does Oi know 'bout swatehearts, yez bow-laiged bit o' salt junk? Oi know all 9bput 'em, as a good-lqokin' son of ould Oireland should, jist. Wasn't me mother a swateheart, yez ugly- mugged grampus ? An" didn't Oi I'ave the purthi- est little colleen in ould county Qare, thot ever skinned a p'rtaty wid 'er thumb nail— say? Me Katie's a darlint— arrab ! An' minny's the toime she's sung to me : 'Och, Rory, be aisy, don't t'ase me no more ! Three toimes yez 'a-C'e kissed me this tiiornin' before 5 'Twas once at tht spring an' 'twas 'twoice at the (Jpor— Och, Rory, be aisy, don't t'ase me no more !' W'at does Oi know 'bout swatehearts ? Jack Keel" son, yez 're a fooU". "Tear my top gallants to ribbons, if I ever saw such a conceity land-lubber!" Jack answered con- temptuously, "Bio win' a gale 'bout his sweethearts! An' all the sweetheart he ever had was a rum-bot- tle. Sweethearts! Rory MeFarlan, that face o' youra 'd make a figigerhead turn pale with fright. UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 127 Sweethearts! 'F you could only see the purty Nancy I left down on the Jersey coast you might talk o' sweethearts. Red lips, black eyes, white teeth " "And kinky wool!" completed Rory. Jack laughed good-naturedly; and, winking at the Irishman, he turned to Wetzel ,and said : "What do you think, Wetzel ? You hain't said a word." The scout puckered his pock-marked features in- to a comical grimace, as he replied : "I think you two fellers can chatter more an' say less 'n any two men I ever saw. You're worse 'n a passel o' crows in a cornfield." Rory and Jack nodded and smiled at each other, and Wetzel continued: "A fine pair you'd be to 'ave on an Injin trail! You'd lose y'r scalps 'fore you'd got a hundred yards from camp. You've got to drop y'r blarney an' palaver when you git into the Maumee coun- try, 'r you'll git y'r hair raised. I never had but one sweetheart in my life. An' that's ol' Knock- 'em-stiff, here." — ^And he fondly patted his long gun. — "Her voice ain't lovin' an' gentle, but she ain't no flirt that smiles on you one minute an' frowns the next. Women's a necessary evil, I s'pose ; but they 're mighty unhandy to have 'round in time of a scrimmage. Women was made fer peace, men was made fer war. I never seen a man in love with a piece o' linsey-woolsey but what she 128 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. got him into trouble o' some kind. Take Hal Bar- ton, far instance " Wetzel shut his jaws with a aiap, and said no more. He realized that he was- ahout to divulge a secret. McFarlan and Keelson exchanged signifi- cant glances and waited for him to proceed ; but not another syllable did he utter. "Wat was yez goin' fer to say, Wetzel?" Rory asked. The scout, his chin upon the muzzle of his rifle, made no reply. At that moment the bugle sounded and the col- umn began to move. Captain Axline hastily wrung Joanna's hand and resumed his position at the head of his troops. Hal Barton lingered a moment longer. 'I should think one 'xperience 'd be enough fer any man; but then it's nothiri' to me," muttered Wetzel, as he strode to the head of the column and impatiently awaited his comrade's coming. A few seconds later -Hal reached the scout's side, and the two led the way into the forest. Judith and Joanna hid their tearful /aces from the prying eyes of the marching soldiers, and sought the privacy of home. The army moved slowly toward the north. Gen- eral Wayne followed the line over which St. Clair had advanced and retreated two years before. The road was an uneven trail through the wilderness, difficult and hazardous. The streams were swollen UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. izgi by the fall rains; and the ground in many places was soft and treacherous. Axmen were kept busy clearing a way for the wagons. Small bands of lynx-eyed savages hung upon the flanks of the army, ready to kill stragglers or harass the main body of troops, if opportunity should offer. Barton, Wetzel and other scouts made wide detours, and kept the commander apprised of the movements of these wily foes. Necessarily the progress of the army was slow, and it was the thirteenth of October when General Wayne for the first time came in sight of the log walls at Fort Jefferson. He had been six days in moving his army eighty miles. The season was far advanced and the weather so threatening that the commander, after a consulta- tion with his ofificers, decided to fortify the place strongly and go into winter quarters. He changed the name of the camp from Fort Jefferson to Greenville, in honor of his revolutionary friend and comrade. General Green. Four days after the arrival of the army at Green- ville, the first Indian attack occurred. A prowling band fell upon a convoy of provisions on its way from Cincinnati to the new encampment. There were about ninety men in the company protecting the train; but so sudden and fierce was the attack that the savages almost succeeded in capturing it. Lieutenant Lowery and Ensign Boyd fell at the first fire ; and many of the soldiers beat a hasty and ignominious retreat. Lieutenant Rudolphe Cartier 130 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. was with the train, and, on the death of Lieutenant Lowery, assumed command and ordered a general retreat. Barton and Wetzel were in the vicinity on a scouting expedition. They had been trailing the band that made the attack. Attracted by the firing they hurried to the support of the soldiers, and impetu- ously threw themselves into the thick of the fight. Shielding themselves behind tree-trunks, they loaded and fired their rifles with marvelous rapidity and effect. Recognizing the two new comers as their bitterest foes, the Indians faltered ; and a num- ber of retreating soldiers returned and renewed the fight. Lieutenant Cartier, his face aflame with pas- sion, sprang to the side of our friends and hissed : "Retreat, retreat, I command you !" "Not as long as powder-an'-ball holds out," was Wetzel's reply; and he dropped another Indian in his tracks. Losing all control of himself, the Lieutenant struck at the scout with the flat of his sword, shout- ing: "Don't you see they outnumber us two to one? (Would you have the whole company slaughtered? The soldiers will follow your example. Retreat, or I shall run you through the body !" Wetzel did not reply, but went on rapidly reload- ing his piece. But Hal Barton had overheard the officer's words, and turning upon him, roared : "Coward! Traitor! Retreat if you desire. If UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 131 you do, I'll take command and save the train — or die in the attempt." "You shall pay for this act of insubordination !" Cartier shouted with pallid, frothing lips, as he walked away. The Indians, perceiving that the soldiers had re- gained their courage and were making a valiant stand, broke and fled. Lieutenant Cartier hastened to Greenville to give his version of the affair to General Wayne. On the arrival of the convoy, Hal and Wetzel were summoned before the commander to answer to the charge of insubordination. "I am told you refused to retreat when ordered to do so by the commanding officer," General Wayne said. "Is it true?" "It is true. General," Hal answered respectfully. "What excuse have you for not obeying the or- der?" "We saw no necessity for retreating. And subse- quent events proved our judgment correct." "Quite right," remarked the General with a nerv- ous twitching of his thin lips ; "but you should have obeyed the command, nevertheless." "For one, Gener'l," Wetzel replied quietly, "when I'm in an Injin scrimmage I ain't in the habit of obeyin' anybody but Lew Wetzel. I calkerlate he knows 'bout as much 'bout redskins as the devil that made 'em. An' I ain't in fer retreatin' 'till my scalp's in more danger'n it was in that little- rub " 132 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. "But you must learn obedience," cried Wayne sternly, although his twinkling eyes belied the tone of his voice. "Such examples are ruinous to all discipline." "But, Gener'l," the scout insisted, "I don't con- sider that I'm under anybody's orders but yours. I ain't no soldier. I'm an independent scout; an' if I want to have a little scrimmage with the redskins, ther' ain't no young fop in uniform a-goin' to stop me. "Your reasoning is fallacious," the commander hastened to say. "Don't you see that such a course may precipitate a general engagement when we are least prepared for it? No, my friend, you must obey orders." "I'll obey you. General Wayne, jest as I prom- ised. But no 'tarnal coward like Lieutenant Cartier '11 ever git me to run from In j ins till I'm ready to run— that's all." Cartier and a number of other officers were pres- ent. The Lieutenant -curled his lips scornfully, but said nothing. General Wayne drew himself up haughtily. Evidently he was preparing to repri- mand the daring scout severely. Seeing this. Bar- ton asked hurriedly: "General Wayne, may I explain?" The commander bowed stiffly ; and again that pe- culiar twinkle shone in his eye. Hal proceeded : "As you know. General, we were out on a scout- ing expedition. We ran across the trail of a large UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. I33 body of Indians, and were rapidly following them, anxious to know what deviltry they had in mind, when the sound of firing came to our ears. Sus- pecting the truth, we hastened to the aid of the con- voy. We found the company panic-stricken. Many of the soldiers were retreating in disorder. Lieu- tenant Lowery was dead, and Lieutenant Cartier was in command. He made no effort to rally his men. Instead, he ordered a general retreat. We refused to obey — Lew Wetzel and I — and the sol- diers, encouraged by our example, rallied and re- covered their ground. We saved the train of pro- visions and prevented a wholesale massacre. Would you have had us do otherwise. General ?" "No !" came the reply in ringing tones. Lew Wetzel lifted his head in surprise. The as- sembled officers exchanged wondering glances. Lieutenant Cartier bit his lip, and, stepping for- ward, attempted to address his commander ; but the General waved him aside and resumed : "There are exceptions to all rules, military rules included. You disobeyed orders; such orders should be disobeyed. You were in the right this time ; but be careful in the future. Remember that I condemn your infraction of military regulations; but at the same time I commend your bravery. You may go. Lieutenant Cartier, I would speak with you in private." When the Frenchman retired from General Wayne's apartment, a half hour later, a perplexed 134 l^NDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. and worried look rested upon his dark face. As he entered his own quarters he muttered to him- self: "I must be more careful in the future. Another false step means ruin. I was too anxious. But the loss of the provisions would have crippled the army and encouraged the Indians. I must go slow, however. What will thousands of British gold avail me, if I forfeit my life. And Judith " A few days later, General Scott with a thousand mounted riflemen from Kentucky joined the army at Greenville. But the season was too far advanced for military operations, so General Wayne ordered the men to return to their homes to await the open- ing of spring. The work upon the fortifications at Greenville was pushed vigorously. When the first hard freeze came in early November, the troops were comfort- ably quartered. With the advent of cold weather, the Indians withdrew from the vicinity; and the army settled down to the humdrum of winter camp- life. The only excitement was the arrival of an oc- casional messenger or provision-train from Cincin- nati. On the twenty-third of December, General Wayne ordered Major Burbeck to take eight com- panies of foot and a de*-atchment of artillery, and repossess the field of St. Clair's defeat, twenty-nine miles from Greenville. For the encouragement of UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 13S the troops the commander himself accompanied the expedition. He took a small reinforcement of mounted men with him. On his arrival at the ill-fated battlefield, he erected a fortification to which he gave the name of Fort Recovery. Then he gathered and interred the bones of the brave men who had fallen in that struggle, and fired three discharges from St. Clair's recovered cannons over the graves. With General Wayne at the time were Dr. Soott, Captain Butts and Lieutenant Wiliam Henry Harrison^ after- ward president of the United States. While Wayne was at this place, chiefs of the var- ious tribes came to him and professed an anxiety to enter into peace negotiations. He put no faith in their expressions of submission; but gave them thirty days in which to return to Fort Recovery with all the white prisoners they had among them. They did not come. CHAPTER XI. "Lieutenant Cartier wants to see you at his quar- ters." The speaker was an orderly, and he addressed Hal Barton, who was standing just outside the for- tification at Greenville. General Wayne was still at Fort Recovery, and had sent Lew Wetzel toward the Maumee to spy upon the movements of the al- lied tribes. Barton had remained at the main en- campment, doing little except to make daily excur- sions into the adjacent forest. It was two o'clock in the afternoon of a wet and disagreeable January day. The soggy earth was half covered with melting snow, and the water courses were swollen and angry. Fog filled the sur- rounding woods, and a cold, drizzling rain was fall- ing. The soldiers, spiritless and discontented, par- took of their scanty fare and hovered around the campfires, scarcely speaking for hours at a time. UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. i37 Even those mercurial imps, Rory McFa-rlan and Jack Keelson, forgot to indulge in their customary pranks. It was a day of moroseness and gloom. The camp bore a lifeless and deserted aspect A horse neighed shrilly and tossed his head impa- tiently, as the chill drizzle beat upon him through the open walls of the stable. A muffled figure stalked sullenly from one barrack to another. Hal Barton, standing without the walls of the fortification, his rifle in his hands, looked far into the vista of woodland — and saw nothing that was before him. He was thinking of Cincinnati and Judith. He regretted that he had not been permit- ted to accompany Wetzel. The hardships and dangers of a scouting trip would have been prefer- iible to inactivity. But, for some reason. General Wayne had ordered him to remain at Greenville. For the moment Hal forgot Judith. Why had the commander wished him to stay in- camp ? When he parted from Wayne at Fort Recovery, ten days before, the General said to him : "I've sent your comrade. Lew Wetzel, toward the Maumee country, to ascertain what the Indians are doing. You may return to Greenville and there await orders." At the time. Barton and Wetzel had just borne a message to the General from the commanding offi- cer at Greenville. The Englishman turned his back to the driving rain and continued to muse upon the condition of 138 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. afifairs. But he could make nothing of it. He was about to enter the forest just beyond him when the orderly accosted him with the words that open the chapter. In surprise Hal faced the man and replied : "Aren't you mistaken, sir?" "No, sir," returned the orderly, positively; "the Lieutenant told me to find you and send you to him — ^that he wanted to speak with you." "Whom did he tell you to find?" "Hal Barton, the scout." "I'm the man." "Yes, sir. Will you come ?" "Tell Lieutenant Cartier that I'll grant his re- quest," — ^he did not say, "I'll obey his order" — "that I'll call upon him at his quarters, within a few minutes." The orderly noted Barton's tone and words and, bowing stifHy, left him. For a full minute Hal stood staring at the earth. "I wonder what Cartier wants of me — of all men ?" he muttered under his breath. "If the cow- ardly traitor has any treacherous design, he'd better beware. He ought to be fired from the army, crop and heels ; he's a dangerous man. General Wayne should listen to the voice of reason. The sneaking cur will bite him from behind. What can he want of me? Well, the surest way to ascertain is to go to him." With quick, firm steps he re-entered the open gate UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 139 of the fortification and hurried into Lieutenant Car- tier's presence. The officer arose at Hal's entrance, but did not speak. The Englishman noted that the lieutenant appeared nervous arid ill at ease. "You sent for me ?" Barton said bluntly. "Yes. Will you not sit down?" Cartier said this in an embarrassed tone of voice, interlacing his long fingers and nervously glancing from his visitor to the floor. "No," Hal replied, coldly. "What do you want?" "You treat me, your superior, with scant cour- tesy," the Lieutenant remarked, with a malicious smile. Barton saw that the man was greatly agitated for some reason, and was making an effort to hide the fact. The Englishman was in no mood for dilly- dallying. He hated Cartier and he took no pains to conceal it. Now he answered, sharply : "If I treat you with little courtesy, sir," — ^he did not condescend to use the Frenchman's military ti- tle in addressing him, — "it's because I'm pleased to do so. I've little respect for you, as you have good reason to know. Again I repeat, what do you want?" The Lieutenant's face flushed, then paled. He bit his lip and clenched his hands. Retaining con- trol of himself, he asked, calmly : "Will you obey an order ?" "Whose?" Hal inquired coolly. "Mine." 140 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. "I hold myself subject to the orders of General Wayne alone." "I want you to carry a letter to General Wayne at Fort Recovery, a communication of great im- portance." "When?" "Today — now." "Is it so urgent ?" Hal interrogated, keenly eying the oificer. "It is." "Give me the letter." "You will take if?" There was an illy-concealed ring of triumph in Cartier's voice. His hand shook as he produced the packet and gave it tb Barton, with the words : "As I have said, this letter is of great importance. Get it through tonight. Observe great secrecy, tell no one of your journey. I would trust it to no other " "Stop !" thundered Hal, angrily. "I've agreed to carry this letter to General Wayne. I'll do so or lose my life in the attempt." — ^Here he .glared so fiercely at the Lieutenant that the latter cowered and retreated a step. — "But I want no words of praise from you.'' The blonde giant's eyes were blazing. He impa- tiently tossed his yellow mane from his forehead and, without a backward glance, left the room. When the sound of his retreating footsteps had died out, Cartier dropped upon a stool and panted : UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER 141 "Thank heaven, that is over! Such interviews try one's nerves." And he laughed hysterically. "Ugh! He looked at me as though he suspected my designs ; as though he would have liked to kill me. No doubt he would. But he will not dare to open the packet; he is the soul of honor." — This last with a sneer. — "Ah! I am playing a risky game; but the stakes are worth it. Ten thousand pounds in good yellow gold is not picked up every day. Let me see. The plans and specifications I delivered to the half-breed at Hobson's Choice went through safely. Yes, Girty is to be trusted. And last night I met him face to face for the first time. He is a scoundrel, a traitor. We are a well-matched pair. "It was bold of him to creep up under the very walls of the fortifications. He does not lack courage, at least. Night after night I had watched for his coming, until I was almost in despair. It was well for us both that the night was dark and rainy, and that the sentry could be bribed. But in my haste I forgot to take the important papers outside the walls with me. How angry Girty was! I was afraid of him ! "Everything is all right now, however. If the scheme does not miscarry, I shall rid myself of a dangerous rival and deliver the details of the strength of General Wayne's army and his plans of campaign to a British emissary, at one and the same time. If adverse fortune thwarts me — " He shrug- 142 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. ged his shoulders.-^"But if the fickle goddess smiles, I shall be rich beyond my fondest dreams, and Judith — well, the game is half won." He arose, stretched his slender form, shivered slightly and, seating himself at a desk, began an ex- amination of a pile of maps and papers. In the meantime Hal Barton was leaving the for- tification. At the gate he met Rory McFarlan. A look of surprise and incredulity rested upon the Irishman's freckled face, as he cried : "Fer the love o' the Virgin, Hal Barton ! Yez're not goin' out to tramp the woods in such a storm as this?" The giant caught his demonstrative friend by the arm and, lifting him as a child would a doll, set him upon a projecting log at the corner of one of the blockhouses, flanking the gate. Then he whispered, impressively : "Rory!" "Well, Hal Barton, w'at is it?" "I'm starting for Fort Recovery." "The noight?" in unbounded surprise. "Yes. I bear a letter from Lieutenant Cartier to General Wayne." "May the howly saints presarve us !" Rory ejacu- lated. "Hal Barton, me fri'nd, Oi'd as I'ave see yez car- ryin' foirebrands fer the divil, as totin' a message fer thot dom Frincher! Mark me words, jist. He's up to some divilment. Hal Barton, don't yez go." UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 143 "I'll go," Barton returned, quietly. "I suspect him but I'll go." "Thin Oi'm goin' wid yez," McFarlan declared, jumping from his perch. "Stop!" Barton commanded. Rory halted irresolutely, and Hal continued: "I recognize the spirit that prompts you, Rory; but you cannot aid me in that way " "Can't Oi foight ?" the Irishman demanded. "Yes, yes," Hal replied, hastily; "but you must understand that I must fight treachery with cun- ning. If I can't reach Fort Recovery without fight- ing, I can't reach it at all. You know little of wood- craft; your presence would only embarrass me. But here you can do me a service. If I don't re- turn in three days, you may know that harm has befallen me; and you can lay the matter before Captain Axline. He'll know what to do. In this way only can you help me. Keep my mission a secret for the present. Goodby, Rory." "Goodby, Hal Barton," McFarlan said, feelingly. "Oi'm sorry, Oi am, to see yez go on such a divil's errand. But if any harrum comes to yez, yez can depind on Rory McFarlan an' Jack Keelson to save y'r loife 'r revinge y'r death, jist." Cracking his fists and muttering angrily to him- self, Rory returned to the comparative comfort of his quarters. The Englishman set out upon his lonely journey of thirty miles through the fast-darkening forest. 144 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. The short winter day was rapidly drawing to a close. The rain had ceased to fall and the wind was growing colder and increasing in force. With bent head and alert ears, Hal followed the dim trail among the trees. When night shut down, black and appalling, he was ten miles from Greenville. With the rapid, swinging stride that he had learned of his teacher in woodcraft, he covered mile after mile. The sky began to clear and the moon peeped from behind scudding clouds. The wind fell and the night grew colder. On he went, paying little heed to the trail, but directing his course by an occasional glance at the rapidly clearing heavens. At inter- vals he paused, listened intently for a few moments, and again set forward. His steps were swift, but noiseless, and the journey was half covered and no adventure had befallen him. Hark ! Hal stopped suddenly and dropped to the ground. At the time he was traversing a flat ridge between two shallow valleys. His attention was arrested by a deep, sepulchral, groaning sound. Apparently it came from a point a few rods ahead of him. Lying flat upon the wet ground, he held his breath and strained his ears. The sound was not repeated. Only the complaining murmur of the rills in the valleys greeted his ears. Cautiously he raised his head and peered into the gloom that walled him in. He could see nothing but the dim outlines of tree trunks and skeleton copses. Yes, what was that shadowy something that appeared to UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. I4S be slowly moving toward him? Breathlessly he waited. Nearer and nearer drew the great moving bulk. He caught the sound of heavy footfalls. It was a riderless horse. "A trap !" muttered the giant, as he sprang to his feet and dodged behind a tree. "But they'll not catch me napping." He struck the breech of his rifle to prime it. Peering from his shelter, he saw the horse stop a few yards from him and half turn about as though looking for some one to follow. Again a groan broke the stillness ; and Hal caught the words : "Help— help! In God's name help!" The voice grew weaker toward the end of the cry and died out in a faint moan. Barton remained erect as a figure of stone, behind the tree. He was familiar with the strategy of Indians and outlaws and suspected a trap. His suspicions of Lieutenant Cartier's motive in sending him upon this night journey grew stronger. Prudence advised him to retreat; while humanity urged him to investigate. Perhaps he had permitted his suspicions to bias his judgment. It might be no trap. It might be some chance traveler from Fort Recovery, met with an accident. What should he do? His brain said, "Flee;" his heart saW, "Remain." All this went through his mind with the rush of a rocket. The groaning was repeated, fainter than before. Stepping from his shelter, he cautiously approached the horse. The animal snorted and trembled at his 146 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. approach, but did not move away. Reaching its side, Hal saw it bore a military saddle, and that the broken bridle-rein trailed upon the ground. "Some poldier thrown and injured," was his men- tal comment. "He was bearing a dispatch to Green- ville, undoubtedly." Somewhat reassured, but guardedly and carefully, he approached the spot from which issued the ap- peals for help. The trail at that point ran through a thicket of slim saplings, and he hesitated for a moment. A stray moonbeam lighting the path just ahead fell upon the white, rigid face of a dead man. Hal stopped, all the while glancing around him. The dead man wore the uniform of the United States army. He had been shot through the heart, scalped, and stripped of arms and valuables. His form was stiff. "A dispatch bearer murdered by the cursed In- dians!" Hal muttered under his breath, "But he has been dead for some time; he didn't call for aid," The Englishman arose from his stooping posture and called softly: "Hello!" No answer. "Hello! Hell6!" he repeated, in a little louder tone. "Help!" The answering cry was a mere breath from further along the trail. UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 147 Hal sprang forward with the thought : "I must do all I can for the poor wretch — " He broke off abruptly. Almost at his feet he saw another dark form. "Friend," he said in a low tone. The prostrate, man moaned weakly, but did not speak nor move. Hal was bending to lift him, when an extraordinary thing occurred. The dying man gave a flounce of his body, sprang erect ten feet away and, with a shrill, mocking laugh, disap- peared in the thicket. Barton took in the situation in a flash. His en- emies had cunningly worked upon his sympathies to entrap him. They had killed the soldier from Fort Recovery and left his body in the path to at- tract the attention of the man for whom they were waiting. Hal turned to beat a retreat, but he was too late. A discordant chorus of yells and shouts deafened his ears. He heard the patter of moccas- ined feet and saw dusky forms hedging him in on all sides. He made a desperate dash for life and liberty. Discharging his rifle at the nearest savage, he leaped upon a group that opposed him and, with his clubbed gun, beat them to the ground. Spring- ing ovef their writhing forms, he gave a lion-like roar of defiance and dashed away with the speed and agility of a frightened buck. The Indians and half-breeds had expected no such resistance. For a moment they stared after the fleeing man. 148 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. "After him, you gaping fools !" bellowed a sten- torian voice. "If he escapes, your lives shall pay the forfeit." Already Barton had several rods the start. Ad- monished by the voice of their commander, the In- dians and half-breeds spread themselves upon his trail. Headed off by a small party stationed to intercept his fetreat toward Greenville, he turned and descended a gentle slope leading into the val- ley. He was gaining upon his pursuers when, as he ran blindly through the woods, he plumped into a labyrinth of wild grapevines and became hopelessly entangled. Wilh shouts of fiendish delight and tri- umph his assailants again surrounded him. His mishap had lost him his gun. He struggled to his feet and, drawing his keen hunting knife, slashed and tore at the treacherous vines that bound him. Again he felt his limbs free, and again he roared defiance and attempted to break through the ranks of his enemies. Appalled by his voice and strength, they hesitated. "On him, you cowardly hounds! On him, I say!" came the ringing command from the leader of the band. The order was obeyed. Like ants attacking an intruder, they swarmed upon him. He thrust and cut desperately with his trusty blade of steel. They hung about his legs, sprang upon his back and bore him to the earth. He had received a severe blow upon the head and was losing consciousness. His UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 149 knife dropped from his fingers. Once more his enemies shouted in glee. But just as they thought they had him overpowered, he arose under their combined weight, essayed to fling them off, trem- bled, staggered, and sank to the ground, a senseless heap. Simon Girty strode forward and cried angrily : "You infernal cowards! If you've killed him, I'll have you flayed alive. Is he dead, Jean?" "Ze big buffalo not dead — ^him still breave," an- nounced the half-breed, after a hasty examination. "It's a good thing that he does," returned the ren- egade, sternly. "Give me the packet he carries in his hunting shirt. That's it. Now bind his arms behind him' before he revives, or the devil will be to pay again. He fights like a demon, and he has the strength and activity of a lion. Who struck him that blow, Jean ?" "Bad Elk hit Big Buffalo wiz ze butt of him car- bine," replied Jean, shrugging his shoulders. "Bad Elk," hissed' Girty, fiercely, "you know I told this man was to be captured alive, that you mustii't injure him in any way. If he dies, if we lose the pleasure of torturing him at the stake, by your disobedience, you'll take his place at the black post! Do you hear me?" Bad Elk stoically folded his arms upon his bare chest, and grunted in the Mingo tongue: "Ugh! Bad Elk understands. He understands, too, that Big Buffalo has killed many redmen, ISO UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. many Miamis. This night he has shot one brave and felt the flesh of many others with his sharp knife. Bad Elk sees around him the mark of Big Buffalo's hatred and prowess. Bad Elk bears a wound upon his breast made by the knife of Big Buffalo. Bad Elk sought to save his own life and avenge the wounds of his brothers." "And Bad Elk has made a cursed fool of him- self," sneered Girty. "He would have killed Big Buffalo. He would have lost his own life and missed the road to the happy hunting grounds. But enough — I see Big Buffalo is reviving. Dress your wounds and let's be off. The villages will ring with the shouts of warriors and the laughter of women, and children, when we take this giant among them, and when they know that he's to be given up to torture. He opens his eyes — ^he moves. Help him to his feet." Jean and another half-breed assisted Hal to arise. The Englishman was still dazed, and faint and dizzy. Gradually the mists cleared from his brain, and he realized where he was. Surrounding him were the malignant faces of his enemies. There were two score or more of them. Escape was out of the question. His head ached and he was still slightly confused; but he proudly drew himself erect and demanded haughtily : "Curs, Where's your leader, your chief?" "Him stand zere — ^him brave chief," replied Jean, jerking his thumb toward the renegade. UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. igi In the dim light Hal saw a man leaning against a tree a few "feet away. Bending forward, he peered into the shadowy face, and started back with the sharp cry:' "Simon Girty!" The outlaw laughingly replied : "Glad to see you know me, Hal Barton — ^Big Buffalo. What can I do for you ?" "What are you going to do with me?" Barton's brain was clear now ; he had recovered his equanimity. He asked the question coolly. "What am I going to do with you?" returned Girty. "Yes." "That's an easy question to answer. I'm going to take you to the villages upon the Maumee and give you to my Indian pets to torture. They'll burn you at the stake. Any other question you want to ask before we start ?" "You laid a trap to capture me," Hal answered. "How did you know of my coming?" "Come, that's good !" and Girty chuckled. "How did I know of your coming? Lieutenant Cartier, your warm personal friend, sent you and this bunch of papers to me." — Here the renegade shook the packet in front of Barton's face. — "I don't mind telling you all this, for you'll never live to return to Greenville. No, Hal Barton, I've waited a long time to get you in my power. I only wish 1 had that pock-marked friend of yours. Lew Wetzel. 1S2 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNEIi. You two have given me more trouble than all the other scouts in the Northwest Territory, But your mischief-making 's at an end. You'll never follow my trail again and warn the settlers of my coming. What a jubilee we'll have when we roast you over a slow fire. By the way, there's another person who'll be glad to renew your acquaintance. I've heard him speak of you frequently — oh, so lov- ingly!" "Who is it?" Hal inquired, in an unmoved tone. "I don't believe I'll tell you. Big Buffalo. I don't want to rob you of the surprise and pleasure of the meeting. You've made friends among the redskins and British ; they'll give you a warm reception." Again Girty chuckled and, turning, spoke to his men in the Miami tongue. His band was a motley one, composed of half-breeds and picked warriors from various tribes. But it was evident that all understood the renegade's commands. Placing Barton between two stalwart braves, to whom he was secured by thongs, they set out upon their northward journey. At daylight they stopped and cooked and ate their breakfast, giving Barton a lib- eral share of venison and parched corn. The sun came up bright and warm, and the remnants of the carpet of snow quickly disappeared. All day long and far into the night, Girty's band trudged for- ward. At last they again went into camp and snatched a few hours' sleep upon the bare and frozen ground. Early the next forenoon the entire UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. iS3 party arrived at the Indian village upon the site of which Fort Defiance was afterward erected. Here a part of the band stopped ; the remainder continu- ing their journey down the Maumee to Fort Miami, a British fortification erected on American terri- tory. On his arrival at Fort Miami, Girty delivered the packet of papers he had taken from Hal Barton, Lieutenant Cartier's treasonable revelations, to Colonel McKee, the British Indian agent. This vile renegade, in the service of the English government, carefully examined them, made what notes he wanted, and ordered Girty to forward the original documents to the British authorities at Detroit. Hal Barton's captors conducted him to the In- dian village a few miles beyond Fort Miami, a large town of the allied tribes, with a sprinkling of half-breeds and outlaws. As the returning band, with the white captive in their possession, entered the outskirts of the place, warriors, squaws and children came out to meet them, and danced and yelled in mad glee at sight of the fair-haired Her- cules. Girty haughtily brushed the mob aside and led the way toward the large council lodge in the center of the village. Barton walked with bowed form, unheeding the savage jeers, and taunts. Once only he lifted his head ; and that was when he was near his destination. A woman's sharp cry reached his ears and aroused him from his bitter thoughts. Glancing up 154 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER| quickly, he beheld a pale, haggard face. and two burning eyes staring at him from the open door of a hut of poles. The strong man shivered as though he had seen a ghost, and a deep groan escaped him. The face was the face of Margaret Barton— his wife! CHAPTER XII. On the itiorning of the third day after Hal Bar- ton's capture by Simon Girty and his band, Lew Wetzel walked into the presence of General Wayne at Fort Recovery. The scout's appearance gave positive proof that he had not been upon a pleasure jaunt. His rough clothing was torn, water-soaked and muddy. His hands and face were scratched and bleeding. But he was the same sturdy, phil- osophical woodman, in spite of his gaunt and dilap- idated look. The weather had been wet, cold and subject to frequent and rapid changes. He had slept upon the soggy ground, forded swollen and icy streams and wormed his way through dense thickets of thorn and greenbrier. He had risked his life a dozen times to gain the information he sought, all for the love of adventure and the cause he served. A half-dozen fresh scalps dangling at his belt told that he had been in close quarters, and that his rifle had done deadly execution. IS6 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. "Wetzel, I am glad to see you back safe and sound," was Wayne's cordial greeting, as he ad- vanced and grasped the scout's horny hand. 'Your appearance indicates that you've traveled far and fared ill ; and the bloody trophies at your side tell me that you've not at all times been in the com- pany of your friends. Sit down and inform me of your journey and what you've ascertained of the plans and movements of the foe." "Of my trip, I hain't got much to say, 'cept that I've tried to carry out y'r orders, Gener'l," Wetzel answered lightly, as he seated himself and rested his gun across his knees. "I've been to the Maumee country an' seen an' heerd a deal o' the redskins. I've tramped purty near from one end o' the river to t'other, an' I've crawled into every village 'long its banks. I've even peeked into the mouths o' the Britishers' can- nons at Fort Miami. Course I had to take la few scalps, to save my own, which didn't hurt my feel- in's to speak of." The scout paused; and Wayne said , smilingly: "It didn't hurt your feelings to kill a few In- dians, eh? You're not an ardent peace partisan, then, Wetzel — ^no Quaker blood in you?" "Mighty little blood in me that don't bile over at sight of an Injin," was the grim reply. The woodman's dark face was contorted by a black and terrible scowl as he continued: "The tarnal devils killed the father I loved when UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. iS7 I was a mere boy. I vowed to kill as many of 'em as there was hairs in the scalp they stripped from his head. I've kept the promise I made over his dead body. An' I'm still a-killin' 'em whenever I git the chance." "Haven't you heard that revenge belongs to the Lord, my friend?" Wayne asked, earnestly. "Yes," slowly replied Wetzel; "an' I believe every word of it. But I'm a servant o' the Lord, an' helpin' him in his work. He can punish 'em in the next world all he wants to, but I'll have a hand in doin' it in this. Ther' ain't no use talkin' to me, Gener'l. The Injin that crosses Lew Wet- zel's path '11 git a passport to the happy-huntin'- ^rounds. I may be wrong, but I'm jest as God made me. An' I don't lose no sleep 'bout the mat- ter. 'F you don't kill a redskin when you've got the chance, he'll kill a dozen innocent women an' children 'fore the sun sets, maybe. An ounce o' cold lead 's an ounce o' pr'vention, so far's an Injin's concerned." "You're more than half right," the commander admitted, "But what of your journey to the Mau- mee country?" "Learned that the Injins 're huddlin' 'round ther' fires an' layin' plans fer future devilment. The pesky varmints don't like to wet ther' moccasins in snow water, 'nless ther's a right smart chance o' scalps an' plunder — an' no great risk. They'd ruther lay 'round an' gorge theirselves on beef fur- iS8 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. nished by the Britishers than hunt fer venison, when the wind's from the north an' the snow flies. But they're' plottin' 'an' plannin' ; an' blowin' an' makin' speeches in their council-lodges 'bout what they'll do when spring opens. An' the Britishers 're givin' *em aid an' encouragement, furnishin' 'em arms an' ammynition, an' feediri' 'em on beef brought from Detroit an' cross the lakes. Gener'l, it made me so mad I could hardly keep from bitin' my tongue off to see that Britishers' fort standin' on American ground. If this thing goes on much longer, I'll lose my temper an' go to killin' Brit- ishers same as In j ins!" "Is not your comrade, Hal Barton, an English- man?" the General inquired mischievously, while his bright eyes twinkled. Wetzel was silent for a few seconds. Then, looking the commander full in the face, he replied solemnly : "Hal Barton had the misfortune to be born 'cross the water, in ol' England ; but he's got an American heart in him, Gener'l. Almighty God saw it would be a mistake to leave him over there, so He sent him to this country to fight Injins an' help to make peace. Hal Barton's a man — every inch of him." "You trust him fully?" "Trust him, Gener'l ? I've trusted my life in his hands when I was wounded an' couldn't finger a trigger, an' when a hundred yellin' red devils was all 'round us. An' I'm here alive to show how he UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. IS9 held me up with one hand an' carved his way out with the other. Trust him ? I'd trust him to fight the very imps o' hell an' prove faithful to what he believed to be right. An' I'd give my life fer him any minute. No, Gener'l Wayne, I'm bound to say ther' ain't many native-born Americans as able an' willin' to serve this country as Hal Barton is." Wayne was touched by the scout's uncouth but eloquent defense of his friend. Still the old soldier, for some reason, persisted: "But I've been wajned against him." "Who done it?" Wetzel cried, excitedly finger- ing the stock of his rifle. "One of my officers, a man whom I trust." The scout's brows contracted and his eyes glist- ened like two points of polished steel. Slowly and distinctly he replied: "I — know — ^who — you^ — mean, Gener'l." "Whom?" "That infernal scoundrel, spy an' traitor. Lieu- tenant Cartier!" "My man," Wayne returned quickly, "you shouldn't make such charges unless you stand ready to prove them." "Which I do," was the dogged response. "Let's have no misunderstanding," the General cautioned. "Do you mean to say that you can prove Lieutenant Cartier to be a spy and traitor? Consider well before you answer." "I don't need no time to consider, Gener'l i6o UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. Wayne," was the prompt reply. "I can prove him to be jest what I say he is, if you're willin' to take the word of a man that's served you faithfully in the past, an' stands ready to do so agfin," "You mean yourself. Lew Wetzel?" A conscious flush overspread the scout's dark^ face, as he replied in an embarrassed tone : ^ "I — I mean myself, Gener'l — not that I want to be braggin' on my own services, but — " "I understand," said Wayne, hastily. "Go on. I'm positive that you won't make a willful mis- statement, but I'm just as positive that you have misinterpreted what you've seen or heard. Go on, tell me what you know of Lieutenant Cartier that leads you to hold so poor an opinion of him." Wetzel proceeded to tell of his pursuit of the mysterious peddler — the half-breed, Jean — and of the outcome of the adventure. General Wayne listened with rapt attention. When the scout had finished, the commander remarked gravely: "Wetzel, I'm impressed with your candor and evident sincerity. Yet I cannot believe Lieuten- ant Cartier guilty of such heinous treachery. I've trusted him with most important secrets ; I've made a confidant of him in many ways. No; there must be some horrible mistake. You say that you saw all this with your own eyes and heard it with your own ears?" Wetzel nodded. Wayne mused for a few mo- ments, and then continued: UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. i6i "As I've said, I'm impressed by your sincerity. You have aroused my suspicions. But of positive proof, I have none; you have none to offer. For the present the matter must rest as it is. Lieuten- ant Cartier would deny the accusation and you could prove nothing. I'll watch, and you'll keep this particular part of our interview a profound secret. By the way, you're acquainted with the renegade to whom the paper was delivered, Simon Girty?" "I know more of him, Gener'l, than any honest man wants to know." "Have you seen him since the time of which you've told me?" "I ain't jest exactly certain," replied Wetzel, du- biously, "but I kind o' think I have." "Explain." "Well, night afore last, as I was pushin' my way toward this p'int o' the compass, I come 'pon a small band of redskins an' half-breeds campin'. I crept as close to 'em as I dared, but the campfire was bumin' dim, an' I couldn't well see the'r faces. Still, I'm purty certain Simon Girty was among 'em. They'd been up to some devilment some place, fer they had a white prisoner. He was a big man, 'most as big as Hal Barton, as near as I could tell. But he was lashed to a saplin' an' his back was toward me, so I couldn't tell nothin' 'bout who he was." A startled expression, like a swift shadow, swept 162 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. over the commander's clear-cut visage, as he asked, quickly : "Wetzel, did the prisoner you saw wear the uni- form of the United States army?" "It was too dark, I couldn't see," the scout an- swered wonderingly. "Are you positive that he was a large man, as large as Barton ?" "Well, purty nigh as big as Hal Barton, Gener'l, if not quite. Of course, I can't be real positive, seein' I was some distance from the man, an' the campfire flickerin' an' burnin' dim. What makes you ask?" General Wayne answered excitedly : "On last Monday morning, three days ago, an orderly left here, bearing an important communica- tion to the commandant at Greenville. I instructed the man, one of my most trusty fellows^ to return immediately. He should have been back here Tues- day. This is Thursday, and he has not put in an appearance. Do you think it possible that an acci- dent has befallen him, that he has been killed by some prowling band of savages, or captured ?" "It's possible, Gener'l, that y'r man's been killed 'r took gris'ner by Simon Girty 'r some other rene- gade an' his band o' red devils. But more 'n likely he's safe an' sound 'mong some o' his ol' comrades at Greenville. Why didn't you send Hal Barton with y'r message ? He'd 'ave took it through quick- er an' safer 'n any soldier in y'r army." - UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 163 "Barton was not here," the commander replied, "nor is he here now. After your departure for the Maumee country I sent him to Greenville to await orders. I thought that anyone could traverse the distance between here and there in perfect safety; so I sent the orderly, mounted and armed, to carry my communication. It was a grave mistake, I fear. I should have kept your friend here for such ser- vice. Wetzel, are you thoroughly exhausted?" "Not so near give out but I can do anything you want done, Gener'l." "Could you go to Greenville some time today — or, at farthest, tomorrow ?" "I can go at once — right now." And the scout arose with alacrity and shouldered his rifle. "Listen, then," Wayne resumed, hurriedly. "I'm greatly worried over the prolonged absence of my messenger. The letter he bore contained important information. I'm fearful he has been killed or cap- tured, and that my communication has fallen into the hands of the enemy. Proceed with all dispatch to Greenville. If you find the orderly there, send him back here at once. Here's an order to deliver to him. If he isn't here by tomorrow noon, I'll know that my worst fears are realized ; and I'll my- self come to Greenville to investigate. You needn't return to bring me word. Have you had anything to eat this morning?" "A bite o' meat an' a drink o' water — all I need. i64 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. Gener'l. Have you anything else to say? I'm ready to start." General Wayne's eyes were moist as he held out his hand, saying : "I have nothing further to add. Wetzel, I appre- ciate your services more than you know. Good-by, and God keep you !" "G6od-by, Gener'l." A few minutes later the scout had left the fort and was again alone in the forest. He rapidly cov- ered the trail leading from Fort Recovery toward Greenville, and at ten o'clock reached the scene of the murder of Wayne's orderly, the place where Hal Barton had been captured. After carefully, in- specting the ground and examining the body of the dead soldier, Wetzel leaned against a tree and mut- tered : "Or Mad Anthony's Surmises was jest right. Here's where the soldier was killed by the pesky redskins — an' here's his dead body. It all comes o' sendin' a green man to carry letters through the woods, where death's liable to be lurkin' behind every tree an' bush. An' of course he had to go on horseback, so as to be a fair an' full mark fer the In j ins layin' in ambush. When will them military fellers learn that they can't fight redskins like they fight white people, I wonder? The soldier's dead, an' his horse has wandered oif into the woods to starve, I s'pose ; so ther' ain't nothin' fer me to do but hurry on to Greenville an' send a squad back UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 165 to give him decent burial an' keep his bones from the wolves. It's a wonder some pack hain't smelled him out 'fore this." The scout paused and looked intently at the face of the dead man. Then he resumed : . "Poor feller! He never knowed what hurt him. But ther's one thing that puzzles me. I can't un- derstand it. Ther's signs all round this place of a mighty tussle. This soldier was killed all of a sud- den; an' he didn't have nobody with him. He couldn't have made a fight. Who was it, then? Somebody's been captured, an' I s'pect it's the same prisoner I saw night afore last. The whole thing looks like the work o' Simon Girty, 'r some other outlaw. I see a trail o' blood leadin' into yon thick- et. I'll jest foUer it an' see what I can find." Parting the bushes, the scout was greeted by the stony stare of a dead Indian half reclining against a fallen tree-trunk. The brave had been shot through the chest, and had slowly bled to death. "Sent one o' the greasy varmints to the happy- huntin'-grounds 'fore he give in, whoever he was," was the unmoved comment of Wetzel, as he re- traced his steps to the place where the dead soldier lay. "I can't make it out — ^the marks 's too old. The man I saw in the In j ins' an' outlaws' posses- sion was a big, strong feller — ^bears an' buffaloes! It couldn't 'ave been Hal Barton — could it? Well, I'm wastin' time foolin' 'round here. I must git on to Greenville." i66 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. Shouldering his gun, he resumed his journey; and at four o'clock entered the gate of the fortifica- tion at Greenville, CHAPTER XIII. Captain Axline stood in front of his quarters at Greenville, talking to Rory McFarlan and Jack Keelson. The sun was sinking behind the western treetops, and the air was growing chill, although the day had been one pf cloudless splendor and warm for the season. The two privates were greatly ex- cited, both trying to talk at the same time, and giv- ing the officer little chance to say anything. "Rory, Rory!" cried Axline, in exasperation, at last. "Stop your clatter, just for a second. You don't give me time to get head nor tail of what you are trying to tell. Do you mean to say Hal Barton has been absent from camp for three days, and that you're uneasy over his absence?" "Yis, Oi do," snorted Rory, irritably. "Of course," assented Jack, giving a hitch to his trousers, and viciously chewing his quid of tobacco. "But I cannot understand why you should be i68 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. concerned about him," said the Captain. "Hasn't he demonstrated time after time that he's able to talte care of himself in the woods ?" "Sure, he has, jist," answered McFarlan. "But this toime he was afeared, hisself, he was runnin' plump into a hornets' nist." "Yes," Keelson explained, "Barton told Rory jus't before he started, he was sailin' under Lieutenant Cartier's orders, but that he was afraid his chart Wras a false one an' nis compass untrue, an' that he'd git into shoal water an' go aground on some hidden reef " "Stop, stop !" commanded Captain Axline. "Let me ask you a few direct questions, for it seems impossible to get an idea of what you mean from your senseless jargon. Do you know where Barton ha's gone?" "To Fort Recovery, jist," Rory volunteered; " 'r thot's where he intended to go, Cap'n." "When did he start?" ' "Three mortal days ago. An' he hain't come back, jist, an' " "What was his errand?" "Ochone, Cap'n ! But hain't Oi been afther tellin' yez that he wint to take a letter to ould Mod An- thony, an' thot he was sint by thot spalpane of a Cartier— — " "Lieutenant Cartier sent him with a letter to the commander ?" UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 169 "Sure he did." And the Irishman nodded vigor- ously. "Well, I see nothing in all that you have told me over which to be excited or worried." "Listen, Cap'n," cried Keelson, standing with his bow legs far apart and his finger raised impressive- ly. "Hal Barton was s'picious of the Lieutenant's motive in sending him 'pon a voyage to Fort Re- covery. He was of the notion that Cartier meant both ship an' cargo to be lost, to fall into the hands o' pirates. D'you understand me, Cap'n?" "Do you mean that Hal Barton suspected Lieu- tenant Cartier's motive in ordering him to carry a letter to General Wayne, that the scout thought the Lieutenant intended that the communication and its bearer should fall into the hands of the Indians?" "Thot'S it !" Rory exclaimed. "Thot's w'ot we'd be afther tellin' yez, Cap'n." "Hal Barton told you this as he was leaving, Mc- Farlan?" "He did, jist." Captain Axline bent his head in deep thought for some moments. He was aroused by hearing Rory say: "An' he said, Cap'n, thot if he wasn't back here in three days, Oi was to tell yez — an' yez 'd know w'at to do." "I see — I understand," remarked the officer, and again relapsed into silence. "But w'at 're yez goih' to do ?" the Irishman cried. 170 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. impatieptly. " 'Re yez goin' to let Hal Barton be iDurnt at the stake by the murderin' red naygurs — if they hain't killed him intoirely 'fOre this — 'r are yez goin' to sind out a squad o' the bhoys to hunt him?" "I hardly know what to do," Axline admitted, a perplexed look upon his handsome young face. "I wish General Wayne were here, or Lew Wetzel "If it's Lew Wetzel you want to see, Cap'n," in- terrupted Keelson, "there he goes sailin' into the commandant's quarters this very minute, with a coontail streamin' from his ijiasthead." Captain Axline glanced swiftly in the direction indicated and beheld the scout entering the com- manding officer's hut. A half-hour the three waited for Wetzel to emerge. The sun had disappeared, the air was rap- idly growing colder. Rory and Jack danced about, slapped their thighs with their open palms and complained of the cold. Axline was silent. When at last the scout put in an appearance the officer accosted him : "Wetzel, I'm pleased to see you. You got back unharmed from your dangerous trip to the Maumee country, I see?" "All sa^e and sound," smiled the woodman ; "but proper hungry right at the present time, an' mighty anxious to git some supper. What's the chances, Cap'n, fer a square meal?" UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 171 "Very good, I think," Axline repliedi "Rory and Jack will attend to your wants. After supper the three of you come to my room. I wish to consult you upon a grave matter. You'd better not speak of it" — This was addressed to Keelson and McFar- lan — "among your comrades. Don't delay. Meet me as soon as possible." An hour later they were assembled in Axline's quatters. Wetzel's first words were : "Cap'n, you said you. wanted to hold a talk over somethin' of importcince. I'm perfectly willin' to listen to you an' give you any help I can; in any way. But first I'd like to slip out an' hunt up Hal Barton. I hain't seen him fer some time an' ^" "It's of Hal'Barton I wish to speak," interrupted the Captain. "Of Hal Barton— what of him?" returned th^ scout, a shade of uneasiness in his tone. Keelson fidgeted uneasily. McFarlan's mouth flew open and he essayed to speak, but Axline waved them into silence and began an explanation. Wetzel listetied with rapt attention, his dark pock- marked face reflecting the play of his emotions. At last, unable longer to restrain himself, he leaped to his feet and strode up and down the room. His features worked and the tears oozed from his eyes, as he said, half angrily, half sorrowfully : "At this very minute Hal Barton's a prisoner 'mong the redskins, an' in the pow'r o' Simon Girty, a fate worse'n death. The same band that killed 172 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. General Wayne's ordetly, on the road here with a letter fer the commandant, captured him. He was sent into a trap by Lieutenant Cartier — an' Lieuten- ant Cartier shall pay fer it ! Hear me, you men — an' Lew Wetzel never yet broke his word to red man 'r white — if a hair o' Hal Barton's head is harmed, that infernal Frencher '11 meet death at my hands ! Yes, if I have to trail him. from one end o' the world to t'other. If you wanted to ask me what to do in this case, Cap'n, all I've got to say's this : I'm goin' to foller them red devils an' try to rescue Hal Barton. You keep an eye on that Frencher ; but don't kill him till I come back — leave him to me. Hal Barton was my friend " At this point the woodman's voice choked. Cap- tain Axline turned away his face, and Keelson and- McFarlan surreptitiously rubbed their eyes and ner- vously fumbled at their garments. For a full min- ute not a word w.as spoken. Then the scout quietly arose and, wiping his eyes upon the sleeve of his hunting-shirt, said: "Cap'n, you'll please excuse me. It's been many a long day since Lew Wetzel played the baby. But Hal Barton's been a brother to me " Here his voice again threatened to fail him. "I love him better'n any bein' on earth — ^not exceptin' my mother. I'm goin' to foller the cussed imps that has him in the'r pow'r. An' I'll bid you all good- by — fer I'm goin' to rescue him, 'r die a-tryin'. If I ain't back in a month from today, you may know UNDER MAID ANTHONY'S BANNER. i73 the In j ins has got my scalp. An' then, in the name o' God and- justice, put a bullet through that Frencher's black heart ! Goodby — I'm a-goin' " He stopped abruptly and dropped his head in thought. His companions, in respectful silence, waited for him to resume. After a minute's silence, he remarked, as though communing with himself: "But I can't start till I see Gener'l Wayne. He'll want to see me — an' he'll be here tomorrow. Well, a few hours won't make no differ'nce, fer the In j ins has got Hal Barton to the'r villages by this time, an' they'll pow-wow fer a week 'r two 'fore they make him run the gantlet 'r tie him to the black stake. I'll wait an' see the Gener'l. Goodnight, men, I ain't feelin' first-rate — an' I want to be alone." He shouldered the rifle that never left his pres- ence, and seldom left his- hands, and strode out into the blackness of the night. The three soldiers stood irresolutely looking into each other's faces. Finally Rory said, in a mournful and subdued tone : "Come, Jack, we'll be afther goin'. Ther's no more to be said 'r done. May the morry bring Mod Anthony to us — we nade him. Ochone ! but surely the divil's own work's been done, jist. Oi'd loike to git me fingers in thot dom Frincher's long wool fer one blissed minute, jist " "Wouldn't I smash his binnacle?" interjected Jack. Captain Axline stood silently staring at the blank 174 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. log wall. Even when the two comrades bade him good-night and withdrew, he did not answer. After they were gone, he mechanically seated himself and indited a letter to Joanna and Judith, telling them of Barton's capture. 'Til have an opportunity to send it to them to- morrow," he thought, as he snuffed out the candle and sought his couch. "Poor Judith — poor girl ! It will break her heart. Black treachery ! I'll do my duty when General Wayne comes, if I lose my com- mission !" The young officer could not sleep ; and morning found him still wide-eyed and restless. That day a small squad of soldiers went to recover the body of the murdered orderly and give it decent interment. When they returned to Greenville, late in the afterr noon, they were accompanied by General Wayne and his staff. A prey to suspense, the old soldier had set out from Fort Recovery early in the momr ing. As soon as Captain Axline became aware of his commander's arrival, he sought an interview. Wayne's face was very grave, a few minutes later, when he said to the orderly at the door : "Find Lieutenant Cartier, Lew Wetzel, Jack Keelson and Rory McFarlan, and send them to me at once. Then admit no one else." The Lieutenant was the last of the four to arrive. A look of surprise rested upon his sallow counten- ance, as he saw the company. After respectfully sa- luting his superior officer, nodding stiffly to Axline UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 17s and disdainfully ignoring the presence of the others, he stood at attention, awaiting General Wayne's pleasure. The two privates stood elbow to elbow in the rear of the room, impatiently awaiting the Gen- eral's first words. Axline was haggard, and absent- mindedly tapped the earth with the toe of his boot. Wetzel glared wickedly at the newcomer, and breathed hard. "Good evening. Lieutenant," were Wayne's pleas- ant words of greeting. "I trust everything has gone well in my absence." "So far as I know, everything has gone well," was Cartier's unembarrassed reply. "But, of course, you have seen the commandant, General, and he has informed you better than I can. I have looked after the matter you gave me in charge." "Did you complete the maps and specifications I ordered you to prepare?" General Wayne asked this question in a careless tone, with a preoccupied air. "Complete them, General ?" Cartier cried, in well- feigned surprise, lifting his black brows and open- ing his eyes very wide. "Did you not receive them?" The comnjander was all attention at once. His thin nostrils dilated as though he scented danger; and the pupils of his keen eyes were cold, as he in- quired sharply: "Did I receive them. Lieutenant ? I don't under- stand you." 1^ UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. "I sent them to you, General, three or four days ago," replied Cartier, with surprise and incredulity in tone and gesture. "You sent them to me? By whom?" And Wayne's voice was hard and stern. "By one of your trusted scouts, Hal Barton." The merest hint of a sneer curled the Lieutenant's thin lips as he said this. Wetzpl's brows contracted and his eyes flashed in the firelight. Intuitively the simple-minded woodman saw what was coming. Axline started nervously, and Jack and Rory ex- changed meaning glances. "You sent them to me at Fort Recovery by Hal Barton?" Wayne pursued. "Yes, General." "I didn't receive them. Will vou explain?" With outstretched hands Cartier made a depre- cating gesture, as he replied calmly : "I sent them as I have told you, General Wayne. I have no explanations to ofifer." The commander's face flushed. His anger was rising. "But why did you send them at all? Why did you run the risk of losing them to the enemy? I did not order nor ask you to do so." With cool assurance and apparent innocence, the Lieutenant answered : "You told me you wanted them as soon as I could prepare them. General. I did not know you were so soon to return, and I thought yOu would be pleased to receive them." UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 177 "Lieutenant Cartier, I instructed you to prepare them, to have them ready^ by my return. I made no suggestion that you should send them to me. I insist that you explain." For some seconds a breathless silence prevailed in the bare apartment. The two principals looked hard at each other. The flickering firelight cast gro- tesque shadows upon the rough log walls. Outside the wind shrieked around the fortification. "I'm waiting. Lieutenant," Wayne said at last in cold, even tones. "What do you desire ?" Cartier's sallow face was twitching ; and the hand that stroked his beardless chin trembled. "I have told you. That you explain why you thought of sending those important documents to Fort Recovery." "I had but one reason — the one I have given you." "That's a dom lie !" Rory whispered to Jack. And the latter nodded approval. "Keep silent or leave the room!" said General Wayne, sternly, turning upon the offenders and transfixing them with his fierce eyes. Then, to Cartier : "You have no further explanation to offer. Very well — we'll see. Lieutenant. Hal Barton has been captured by Simon Girty and a band of Indians and half-breeds; and he and the papers are in posses- sion of the British at this very moment. There's more than a suspicion in the minds of some of your 178 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. comrades that you intended the scout and the pre- cious package he bore to fall into the hands of the enemy. To put it bluntly, that you purposely sent him into a trap." Again silence reigned. Cartier's hand ceased to tremble. His face flushed, then paled; but he maintained a defiant attitude and an expression of injured innocence. Axline anxiously awaited the outcome. After a full minute, Cartier said slowly and sullenly : "General Wayne, you do me great wrong by even mentioning the base suspicions of my enemies." "Your enemies — who are they?" With a disdainful sweep of the hand the French- man replied boldly: "The men I see present. Captain Axline and his friends." He accented the last word of the sentence. Ax- line did not change countenance. Wetzel smiled grimly; and the two privates winked and nodded knowingly. "Why do you call them your enemies ?" the Gen- eral continued. "Because .they have been trying for some time to poison your mind against me." "Answer me this question, Lieutenant. Is there cause for their suspicion?" Cartier nerved himself for a supreme effort. He must convince the commander of his innocence and loyalty. He turned white to the lips and the blood UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 179 sang in his ears, as he realized that he must risk all upon one throw of the dice. If he won, he would have time to complete his work and escape. If he lost, he would be court-martialed and shot. After moistening his pale lips with his tremulous tongue, he answered solemnly and impressively: "General Wayne, I cannot imagine what reason these men have for their charge against me. They may be honest in their belief; but they are mistaken. Before God I swear that I am absolutely innocent ! And I ask that the whole matter be investigated at once." "The owdacious spalpane!" Rory could not re- frain from muttering. "The bloody buccaneer!" Jack seconded, sotto voce. The commander silenced them with a look, and proceeded : "Lieutenant, I charge you with nothing; ypur comrades in arms charge you with nothing. But there are suspicious circumstances about this afifair that all have noted, circumstances that I cannot understand. I find it hard, to beUeve that Simon Girty and his villains were in Barton's patli by mere coincidence " "I find it just as hard to believe as yourself. Gen- eral," Cartier interrupted quietly. Without heeding the interruption, Wayne con- tinued : "I fail to comprehend how so skilled a woodman i8o UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. as Barton has proven himself to be could be cap- tured, unless " "Are you sure that he was captured. General ?" "Yes. Why do you ask?" "How do you know that he was captured?" "He never reached me with the maps and speci- fications. Besides, Lewis Wetzel saw him among Simon Girty's men — ^the same band that murdered the oirderly I sent out from Fort Recovery." "Yet I do not think he was captured." "What do you mean?" "If Lew Wetzel saw Hal Barton among Simrai Girty's men, then the latter was there by choice." "You mean " "I mean that he has proven false to the trust you reposed in him, General. He has turned traitor and gone over " "Jest one more word o' that kind o' talk an' you're a dead man !" It was Wetzel who spoke. His rifle was at his shoulder, his finger upon the trigger. Immovable as a statue of bronze he stood sighting along the gleaming barrel. The others of the company were paralyzed by the suddenness of his movements and the evidence of his deadly intent. Rory was the first to recover himself. Springing forward, he threw up the muzzle of the gun, crying: "Hould y'r hand. Lew Wetzel! Would yez do murder? Though Oi ain't sayin' the blackguard don't desarve to be killed intoirely, jist." UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. i8i Cartier staggered to the wall and leaned heavily against it. His features were colorless and his limbs were shaking. General Wayne breathed a deep sigh of relief, and, turning upon the scout, said severely : "Surely you had no intention of doing what you threatened ?" "I meant to kill him, Gener'l, if he said another word 'bout Hal Barton bein' a traitor an' deserter," was Wetzel's unmoved reply. "But don't you know that death would have been your portion had you murdered Lieutenant Cartier, man?" "I know all that, Gener'l; but life ain't worth much anyhow. An' I won't hear a word ag'in Hal Barton from any man on earth. It don't 'pear to me that I'm doin' any good here, so I'll be goin' to my quarters. All I ask, Gener'l, is permission to go to the aid o' my friend. I want to start tomorrow mornin'. What have you got to say?" "Of course you may go. I appreciate your de- votion to your friend, Wetzel; but you were too impulsive just now. Will you need help in your enterprise ?" "A whole company o' soldiers wouldn't do me no good where I'm goin' ; but I thank you f er the offer, Gener'l. I'll bid you goodby, fer I may not see you ag'in. It's mighty hard to tell. An' fer the Lord's sake, y'r own sake, an, the sake o' y'r country, Gen- i82 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. " er'l, don't trust that black-hearted Frencher with any more secrets!" The scout pointed his finger at the cowering Lieutenant, and was gone from the room ere the commander could frame a reply. With Wayne's permission, McFarlan and Keelson quickly follow- ed the. woodman. When the three were gone, the General said : , "Lieutenant Cartier, I've made no charges against you; I make none now. Time will reveal the se- crets of Barton's mysterious capture or desertion, whichever it may prove to be. As speedily as pos- sible you will prepare another set of the maps. The revelation of my plans to the enemy will oblige me to change them. You may go now ; I wish to speak with Captain Axline. Good-night, Lieutenant." Without a word, but with a slight obeisance. Car- tier withdrew. When the door had closed behind the retreating officer, the commander turned to the Captain and with an oath declared : "That man is an infernal traitor and spy! But I'll give him rope with which to hang himself. He can do no more mischief than he has already done. There's no positive proof against him at present. I don't know, Axline, but it would have been well to let Lew Wetzel put a bullet through the scoundrel's heart. Step to the door and tell the orderly to send the commandant and my staff officers here. I .want to talk over important matters with all of you." When the voice of the sentry announced th€ hour UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 183 of midnight, the liehts were still burning in Gen- eraL Wayne's quarters and the old warrior was still discussing the coming campaign with his trusted oflScers. CHAPTER XIV. At dawn, with a backward glance at the barracks where the soldiers were still slumbering heavily, Lew Wetzel glided through the outer gate of the fortification at Greenville, and disappeared along the trail leading to Fort Recovery. At the moment the scout passed without the walls, Rory McFarlan vigorously shook his comrade and bellowed in his ear: "Git up. Jack Keelson. If yez're goin' wid me, yez ain't a minute to lose. Oi've made up me moind ; Oi'm goin' to foller Lew Wetzel. An' the mon's gone a'ready, jist, widout a boite o' breakfast. Sure, an' he must be tough as a blackthorn shillalah." "What's the row, mate?" Keelson cried, as he sprang to his feet and rubbed his swollen eyes. At the sound of conversation several of their sleeping comrades stirred uneasily. Rory placed a finger upon his lips, and, drawing Jack aside, whispered impressively : UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 185 ''Ain't we goin' wid Lew Wetzel, to help in the rescue o' Hal Barton, Jack Keelson?" "Of course," assented the sailor. "Let's be off, thin. He's got sever'l minutes the start of us. We'll git a permit from the Colonel, jist, an' be afther him in a jiffy." But Keelson shook his head and repUed : " 'T won't do no good to go to the Colonel. He don't know nothin' 'bout it; he won't give us no passports." "W'at '11 we do, thin?" Rory cried, impatiently. "Spake quick, mon, ther' ain't no time to lose." "Go to ol 'Mad Anthony hisself." "But, bejabbers! He ain't up yit. An' he'll be Mod Anthony, indade, if we rouse him." "It's all we can do. Let's pipe him on deck." "Come yez on, thin. Jack Keelson — an' be quick." A few minutes later they were thundering at General Wayne's door. When admitted they beheld the commander half-dressed, standing before them in silent wonder. Rory hurriedly ma^e known his business and concluded: "Does yez give us I'ave to go, Gener'l ?" "But Wetzel said last night that one hundred soldiers could not aid him, would be a hindrance to him, in fact." "That's true, Gener'l — he did say that lasht noight. But this mornin' he's changed his moind, an' he wants me an' Jack to go wid him." ^'Very well, be off. I'll explain to your Colonel." i86 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. Like two boys released from school. Jack and Rory left the General's quarters, quickly secured their arms and hastened in pursuit of the scout. The morning was clear and cold. Hoar frost covered the dead leaves and twigs beneath their feet and sparkled in the first faint rays of the morning sun. As they left the fortification, they heard the impa- tient stamp and neigh of hungry horses, and the clatter and stir of privates and officers arousing to the duties of the day. The' sleepy sentinel at the gate permitted them to pass without question; and they were without the walls. "Which way did he steer?" Jack inquired of his companion. " 'Long the road to Fort Recovery, in course." At a swift trot they pressed forward, expecting to overtake the scout in a few minutes. Neither of the two had ever been over the trail before ; but it appeared to be well trodden and easy to follow. An hour passed and they had not caught a glimpse of the flying woodman. Both were panting and perspiring from their unusual exertions. "Be the howly St. Patrick, who drove the snakes from ould Oireland!" gasped McFarlan at last, "Oi don't understand the m'anin' o' this. Jack Keel- son." "N'r I," Keelson panted. "It seems to be a broad an' easy wake to foUer. But where's the vessel ?" A moment they gazed at each other in silent per- plexity. Then Rory cried: UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 187 "Sure, an' we're a pair o' fools, Jack, to be loiter- in' here parleyin'. An' we'll niver ketch him by standin' still an' gawkin' at each other. Come on, yez." Again they pushed onward as rapidly as the in- creasing unevenness of the ground would permit. The trail grew fainter and at last divided. "Which way, now?" Jack asked. "Always kape to the roight," Rory replied sen- tentiously. They did so. Of course, they did not know it, but they had left the main road leading to Fort Recovery, and had taken an old Indian trail leaving the fort on the left and running due north. As they proceeded both had misgivings that they had gone astray, but neither confided his fears to the other. The trail grew fainter and fainter, and finally split into a number of paths forming a labyrinth among the trees. "Wat's to be done. Jack Keelson?" McFarlan inquired as he came to a stop, a hopeless, helpless expression upon his freckled face. "Don't know." — ^And Jack shook his head slowly and impressively. — "Never saw such a nest o' isl- ands, reefs an' channels, in my born days. 'Pears like we've lost our bearin's. But what's become o' that hulk we've been follerin'?" "It's more'n this son o' me mother knows, jist," was Rory's reply. "But we've got to do one o' two things; turn tail an' go back to the other road, 'r i88 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. kape on along one o' these cowpaths. Wat says yez?" "I'm fer steerin' dead ahead an' trustin' to luck." "All roight, Jack Keelson. Oi'm wid yez." Choosing what appeared to be the main path, they followed its intricate doublings and turnings for some time. The sun rode high in the heavens and the day grew warmer. As they pushed farther and farther into the trackless wilds — for the last faint traces of the path had disappeared — ^they made the woods ring with their shouts, hoping in this way to attract the attention of the scout, who they still hoped was but a short distance in advance of them. Disgusted and wear}' at last, they sat down upon a mossy log to talk over their predicament. "We're on the wrong tack," Keelson remarked, moodily. "A stern chase's a long chase, when you know you're follerin' in the wake o' the ship you want to overhaul ; an' when you've lost sight of 'er an' ain't no idee where she is — not a sail in sight — it's a never-endin' chase. I'm fer takin' the sun on our starboard bow, an' putting back to Greenville. We hain't had a bite to eat today; an', fer one, I can't hold out much longer." "An' does yez p'rpose to go back to camp to be the laughin '-stock o' ivery sojer there?" Rory an- grily inquired. "Better be the laughin'-stock of our mates, than to die o' hunger," Jack replied sullenly. UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 189 "Sure, an' can't we kill somethin' to ate, an' cook it, jist?" "What 'd we kill, I'd like to know? We hain't seen fish n'r fowl sence we started. Might as well be wrecked on a desert island. If I was on the high seas — an' I was a fool fer not stayin' there — with a good keel under me, I'd know what to do. But here I'm as helpless as a 'Gyptian mummey — an' you ain't no better." "Yez talk o' goin' back to Greenville, Jack Keel- son; an' Oi'U bet a dram o' good liquor yez don't know no more n'r the mon in the moon in w'at direction it is." McFarlan had lost all idea of their whereabouts and suspected that his companion was no wiser. He anxiously awaited the sailor's reply. "Pshaw!" sneered Jack. "W'at way is it, thin?" Keelson indicated a point of the compass. "Yez 're fool. Jack!" Rory snorted. "An' com- plately turned about. Yez 're pointin' due north — roight toward the Ipjin counthry." "You're, an idiot, Rory McFarlan!" Keelson re- turned hotly. "An' yez 're another !" "The same to you !" After this exchange of compliments they glared at each other in silence, for some time. Presently Jack said timidly : "Rory." igo UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. "Well, Jack?" "It's no use to quar'l. We've got to git our reck- onin's 'fore we can continue this voyage 'r put back to port." "Yes." "Well, listen. Wasn't the sun in our wake when we set sail?" "Oi've clean fergot-r-pr'aps it was." "An' hain't we been bearin', north-'by-north- west, all the while?" "It may be— Oi'U be blessed if Oi know !" "An' hain't the sun been swingin' south-'by- west, all the forenoon?" "If yez knows, Jack Keelson, yez knows raore'n Oi do." "Well, then, right there lies Greenville. An' we'd better be startin'." "Roight where?" "There." — ^And Jack pointed toward the south- east. "Oi don't bel'ave it!", "May ol' Neptune take you fer an ignorant an' blunderin' land-lubber, Rory McFarlan!" Keelson cried angrily. "An' may the divil take yez fer a salt-wather ig- noramus — an' sure, the ol' bhoy's too smart to take yez fer anything ilse, jist!" Rory retorted. Again they sat and glared at each other ; but their heated tempers soon cooled. This time McFarlan was the first to speak. With a bold and fearless glance he swept the sea of faces before him (Page 239) UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. igi "Jack," he ventured. "What is it, Rory?" was the reply. "Oi say that Greenville lies roight over there." — And he pointed due north. "An' I say it lays there." Indicating the south- east. "How'U we fix it. Jack?" "It don't need no fixin'. I'm right; you're wrong." "No; Oi'm roight — yes 're wrong." "La's draw cuts an' decide." "Oi'm wid yez. If Oi git ,the longest one, we go that way; if yez gits the longest one, we go that way." "All right." They prepared the cuts and drew ; and the Irish- man got his choice. Again they resumed their journey, leaving Green- ville directly behind them. Refreshed by this short rest, although suffering the pangs of hunger, they steadily plodded forward. Jack was positive they were moving farther and farther from camp; but he comforted himself with the hope that they would eventually overtake Wetzel. Rory gave little thought to the matter. He had no faith in his com- rade's ability to tell where they. were. It was all chance — one direction was as likely to bring them out of their difficulty as another. They kept on and on. A sort of stubborn hope- lessness took possession of them; and, in spite of 192 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. hunger and fatigue, they set their teeth and silently dragged forward. The afternoon waned and night was swiftly approaching. The shadows deepened around them. With an involuntary shiver, Rory stopped suddenly and whispered in his companion's ear: v "Jack Keelson, does yez know w'at's goin' to become o' us?" "No," replied Jack in the same guarded under- tone, as he glanced apprehensively around. "Well, we're goin' to starve an' freeze; an' be killed, scalped, an' burnt at the stake by them black- guardin' red naygurs." "I ain't much afraid o' anything but starvin'," the sailor answered composedly. "We can build a fire an' keep from freezin', an' we've got to do it purty soon, for I've got the shivers this minute. As fer the Injins, we hain't seen none. N'r we hain't seen no game, an' that's the worst trouble." "We're, two precious fools fer coming' an' it's all y'r fault. Jack," Rory muttered sullenly. "That's right — lay the lanyard on me," the sailor returned grumblingly. "Didn't yez want to come this way, jist?" "No." "Yez did. Jack Keelson. When Oi wanted to turn about an' go back, yez would come right straight on." "Huh!" Jack sneered contemptuously. UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. i93 "Jack, Oi'd give me oulct flintlock f er a dram o' the craythur. Oi'mi perishin' fer a drap to drink." "You're hungry, that's all that ails you. The bilge water's gittin' 'bove y'r cargo. But le's build a fire. Ther' ain't no use freezin' an' starvin' both. We'll anchor here tonight, an' in the mornin' we'll steer back to Greenville." "Greenville! How'll yez foind it, jist?" "You let me be master o' the craft, an' quit y'r raisin' a mutiny every watch, an' I'll bring us safe to port." "Yez say so, Jack?" "I do." "Be me father's off ox, Oi'U do thot same! Oi'U not say another word, jist, if yez poilet us into the center o' Africa." "Le's build a fire," Keelson suggested, with chat- tering teeth. "All roight." They set to work gathering fuel. When they had accumulated quite a pile. Jack made an effort to ignite it with flint and steel. Suddenly Rory tilted his pug nose aloft and suspiciously sniffed the at- mosphere. Then he announced solemnly but em- phatically : "Jack Keelson, Oi smell mate a-cookin' !" "Nonsense!" the sailor ejaculated as he rained a shower of sparks upon the dead leaves and dry moss. "Oi do," the Irishman persisted. 194 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER, "Yoq're goin' — prazy frotiji^hvinger/' replied Jacl|C, clashing the fli^it and steel tpgetheir and blow^ ing vigorously upon the tinder. "I've seen cases — q' the kjnd-^more'n once ; but I never — saw a mate — give in to it so soon. By the great — ^bear, but I b'lieve you're right!" The sailor dropped flint and steel and v\fag upon his feet in an instant. With closed eyes and dilated post^ils, he took one deep inhalation after another. Presently he cried joyously: "Rory, you're not mistaken. Somebody to ihe wind'ard's cookin' meat — ^an' not many cable- lengths away, either." "giire r^^And McFarlan sniffed and nodded. — "W'at'll we do, Jack?" "Le's investigate. May be it's ^ ca,n?p q' white men," " 'R a band o' red naygurs." "It might be Lew Wetzel." "Qhl" "Come on^e's find out. We can't njwe'ij git into trouble," "Begorrah! Ther' ain't no worse tronWe 'n Starvin', Oi've often said Qi'd ruther foigbt n'r ate; an' Oi'd ruther foight n'r starve this howljF minute. Le's be movin'." Directly to the north of them lay a shallow and swampy valley. Hurriedly snatching v(p theii: guns, they cautiously descended the gentle slope leading to the bottom of the depression, By this time it was UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 195 quite dark ih the thick forest. Pausing frequently to sniff the air and glance about them, they slowly worked their way forward. Suddenly Rory gripped Jack's arm and said in a stage whisper : "Oi see a loight." "So do I." A few yards farther they advanced. Again the Irishman spoke: "It's a campfoire, jist." "YfeS,'* Jack answered sOftly. "An' Oi d&n't see no one 'round it." "N'r I." "P'raps they've ate the'r suppers an' gone." "An' p'raps it's Injins— an' they've laid a trap fer us." "Jack Keelson, me fri'tid, Oi can't stand the smell o' thot mate in me norsetrils. It's worse n'r the smell 0' good liquor. Oi'm bound to have some of it, *r lose me loife in a howly cause. Wat says ye«?" "I'm with yoU, mate. But how're we goin' to git it, without reeeivin' a broadside from the eaetny'b guns, as soon as we enter the light?" "Oi don't know, jist." "Le's lay down an' wait an' watch." "An' starve ! Oi can't do it. Jack-— Oi'm hungry." "Then le's walk right in, keepin' our fingers on the triggers, an' take our chances." "Thot's roighti Come on." Boldly the two strode forward until they stood side by side, in the full glare of the campfire: They 196 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. I peered into the surrounding darkness; but saw nothing. They strained their ears; but no sound greeted them except the faint moaning of the wind among the trees and the crackle of the flames at their feet. , A moment they looked at each other in utter amazement. Then, as though by preconcerted arrangement, each stooped and snatched a slice of venison from the red coals and began to devour it ravenously. "Wat's the m'ariin' of it all?" Rory asked, his mouth so full that he could scarcely articulate. Jack took another immense bite and silently shook his head. The meat they held in their grimy hands was soon eaten; and each was reaching for the remaining slice that lay sputtering upon the coals, when they were startled by a peculiar gurg- ling, choking sound coming from the dense black- ness just behind them. Involuntarily both turned and threw their muskets to their shoulders. This movement on their part was greeted by a guttural chuckle; and the next moment the smiling face of Lew Wetzel peeped from behind a huge tree trunk a few feet from them. Then the scout stepped from his place of concealment, exclaiming: "Coons and beavers ! I've heerd o' babies in the woods, but this is my first 'xperience in findin' 'em. I could 'ave shot a ramrod through both you fel- lers as you stood there together — strung you on it like fish on a line. What in tarnation 're you doiii' here, anyhow?" UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 197 "Come to make yez a fri'ndly call, Lew Wetzel," replied Rory composedly. "An' yez nearly made me heart jump out o' me mouth, by y'r laughin' be- hoind me back, jist. Oi niver did loike to have folks make fun o' me in thot way." Keelson gazed regretfully at the slice of venison consuming upon the hot embers and volunteered: "We set sail from Greenville a short time after you did this mornin', meanin' to overhaul you an' lend you aid in rescuin' Hal Barton. But in some way we couldn't foller y'r wake. We lost our bear- in's — an' just drifted in here by chance. We hain't had nothin' to eat today. You don't happen to have any more meat handy, do you?" Without replying the scout brought a haunch of fresh venison from a small tree near at hand, and with his hunting knife cut several large slices and laid them upon the coals. The meat cooked quick- ly, its savory odors tantalizing the appetites of the hungry men. When it was done, the scout served each of his guests and took a liberal allowance him- self, saying: "I'll jest eat a bite with you — seein' I hain't had anything for twenty-four hours. I was jest gittin' ready to enjoy my supper when I heerd you two fellers comin' through the woods, makin' as much noise as an empty cart crossin' a stony ford. Won't you have another piece, my Irish friend ?" "Oi surely will," McFarlan replied promptly. "I'll take a small slice, too," Jack remarked. "A ^98 UNDER MAP ANTUQNY'S BANNER. . pjec^ 'bout the sj?e o' y'r two hands 'H ^Q, I ain't near so hpUer ^n' ernpty as I was — :f eel aa thoygh 9. lew mpre pQunds o' meat an' some English plum- anff 'd b© a\\ I'd wm%" "An' w'at the divil'g plqRi-'dwff?" Rory inquired mvimbhngly. "Bpiled pjtiro-puddiix'/' the Sckilqr explained- "The inogt toothsome dish ip the world-r^^ ssijlor's dish." "An' yez 're .hanke.rin' fer English plum-'dnfF, 'r? yez. Jack Keelson. Yez'U he apt to git it — an' some Jnjin-meal-puddin' throwed in, 'fore we git 1a»<;k from rescttin' HaJ iParton." The sailor devoted hip attetition to the food in his hand ^nd offered no reply, But Wetzel looked up quickly a^nd said; "Surely you men ain't; jn earnest 'boyt naeanio' to go with ipe to the Maumee ?" "Sure, an' we ^re," was Rory's positive answer. The scout wiped his ipouth upon hia sleeve, and replied : "'T won't do. You fellers don't know nothin' 'bout ?qoutin'-r--sneakin' into Injin canjps an' aneak- in' out ag'in, You'd only be £^ burden, a bother-. You'd jest be in the road, an' keep me from doio' anything. You c?in't go. In the mornin' I'll giy§ you the direction to foller, to reach Greenville, You're thirty-five 'r forty miles from, there now. It's good in you to think p' helpin' me. But 'twon't do, you understand." UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. rgg "It'll hd/i}s to do, jistj" Roty returiifed emphatic-' ally, "fer we're goin' wid yez, LeW Wetzel. We didn't foiftd our way heffe, afl' we catl't foind bur way back ; $o weVe got to go wid yez» An' yez'U not foind us in the way. We'll I'ave iverything to yez to manage-'^we'll d© w'at yez says. But we'll help to do the foightin'-. Be me Oirish blood, Oi'ttl goin' wid yez!" "So'm I," aiutteffed the sailor. "I ain't gem' to sail twelve laguee Jest itt the pleasure o' sailili' back ag*ia. It takes all kinds a' vessels to make a fleet-»--an' ifl some cases a sloop's as good as a frig- ate." Wetsel said no more, but his fate Was a study. He did not khOW what to do. He was pleased that the two soldiers loved Hal Bartott enough to risk their lives in his behalf. But he feared that the tW6 would prdte a fleVier^failing source of annoyance and danger. He lighted his pipe and Seated hirft^ self by the fife to think. Rory and Jack followed his ejtample and silence fell upotl the trio. The thought entei-ed the sCoUt'g mind, that some time during the night he would slip away from them while they were sleeping. But he feared they thight tiot be able to find their way back to Greenville ; so he abandoned the Idea. At last he arose and, throw- ing a few faggots upon the dying fire, remarked : "I'll jest take a scJUint Vourtd to see that the coast's cleaf. An' then We'll try to snatch a few 200 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. winks o' sleep. You fellers keep nlighty mum while I'm gone." "Look here. Lew Wetzel," McFarlan cried sharply. "Yez hain't no idee o' runnin' off an' I'avin' us, jist?" The scout laughed outright, a rare thing for him to do. The Irishman's keen intuition amused him. Then he answered solemnly: "No; I won't run off an' leave you, though I could do it, if I wanted to. You've made up your minds to go with me ; I've made up my mind to take you. But you've got to leave everything to me. You fellers knows as little 'bout Injins an' the'r tricks an' deviltries- as a 'possum knows 'bout heaven. Jest wait here quiet till I come back." He sprang into the surrounding blackness and was gone, his moccasined feet giving forth no sound. A half hour passed, and he had not re- turned, bory and Jack began to grow uneasy. The latter fidgeted and the former growled impatiently: "Wat the mischief's the spalpane doin' out there in the dark so long, by hisself ? Oi wish he'd come, jist ; Oi'm slapy." "Shatter my tops'l-halyards !" returned Jack. "The more I think of it, the more I'm thankful we drifted in here. It's a heap better'n tryin' to ride out the storm by ourselves." Then reflectively : "But it 'd be a terrible thing if Wetzel 'd slip out with the tide an' leave us stranded — " UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 201 "Which he give you his promise he wouldn't do," the woodman interrupted as he stepped within the circle of light ; "an' you hain't no reason to mistrust him." The two soldiers stared at the speaker in silent amazement. They could not understand how he went and came so noiselessly. Wetzel continued : "I've took a peep 'round, an' everything's quiet. Ther' ain't no pryin' eyes to spy out our light an' raise our scalps 'fore mornin'. I'll fix the fire, an' then we'll turn in fer forty winks o' sleep. Fer we've got to be movin' early in the mornin'." "You don't think I'd better stay on watch, to p'rvent the redskins boardin' us under the shadder o' darkness?" Jack suggested. "Shut up. Jack Keelson," Rory grumbled. "Don't yez think Lew Wetzel knows his business ?" The sailor made no reply. The men stretched themselves before the roaring fire and in a few minutes were fast asleep. CHAPTER XV. Hal Baftofl, a prisonef afliong the Indians at one of theit numerous villages, a few miles below the, British outpOst, Fort Miathi, had beeifl tnetitally stunned and confused by the sight of his wife-. He was conducted tO the gneat COilflCil-lodgfe iti the center of the town. Thii building- was a l&rge log cabin of one room. A curtain of skins Closed the irregular opening in one end that did duty aS a doorway ; and a hole in the roof served as a window and furnished an avenue of escape for the smoke from the fire that blazed in the middle of the dirt floor. Here Hal was securely bound hanH and foot and tethered to a staple in the wall. A solitary guard was placed over him ; and he was left to his own wild thoughts and gloomy forebodings. The bound Hercules lay full length upon the earthen floor of the lodge. He was exhausted, half crazed, and well-nigh in despair. He could scarcely UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 203 move fer the thopgs that bound him. The Indian guard sat by the fire and did not deign to cast a glance at his prisoner-. Nq one entered the lodge to bring food pr drink to the hapless captive. His throat was parched; his wrists and ankles were lacerated, and bleeding, TwQ hqtjrs after darkness had set in, a stalwart brave entered the room, bring- ing meat and ^jvater to the guard, But he offered Hal nothing, The hours diagged s^o^Hly by. The Englishman could do naught but think — think. He reviewed the past; laeed the present; and vainly strove to penetrate the future. So Margaret was alive and among the Indians. Was she a captive? Had she been taken prisoner, after all? He trembled at the thought. No; it could not be so. Had she not left a note explaining her departure? But the note said she had gone with his cousin, Dick Holloway, of courge, across the seas. What, then, was she doing here? Was Holloway in the village, also? And if s(\ was ]\/largaret his prisoner? No; the noteS Over and over in hi? mind he revolved the per- plexing problem. He could make nothing of it. He could grasp no thread by which the tangle could be unraveled. Hfs heart ached and his eyes grew moist, as he recalled h§r winsome face, and com- pared it with the wan countenance that had looked out upon him from the Indian hut. At any rate, it wag plain that Margaret was not happy. Was it remorse, or was she a hopeless captive? Oh, if he 204 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. only knew! But what mattered it? Was not he, himself, a prisoner doomed to a horrible death? If he had wronged her, he could make no reparation now. It was too late — too la.te! But that note — that note ! Midnight came. The guard appeared to drowse by the fire. His chin rested upon his bronze chest; his black eyes were closed. The flames died out, and the faint glow of red embers alone lighted the room. Hal Barton could not sleep. Physical pain and mental anguish like twin demons tormented him. He stirred slightly and moaned: "Oh, to be free ! To fight my way to life and liberty—or to death and forgetfulness !" The guard's head sank lower and lower. The faint light in the lodge grew dimmer. Hal strained at his bonds until the blood trickled from his finger tips. They were too strong — he could not break them. His hands were bound behind his back; he could not reach the thongs with his teeth. Re- peated trials and failures but made him more des- perate. He savagely chewed at the lariat that, passing around his neck, secured him to the log wall. He did not pause to ask himself what he expected to accomplish. An hour passed ; the rope of hide was severed. The Indian guard had not changed his position. , His regular breathing indi- cated that he slept. Barton cautiously attempted to roll himself nearer to the dying fire. He meant to essay the utterly reckless task of burning the cords UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER 205 from his wrists. Writhing like a monstrous ser- pent, he made one complete revolution of his body. Then he lay perfectly quiet and scarcely dared to breathe. His heart labored tumultously; his tem- ples throbbed painfully. He was on the point of attempting a second movement, when the guard awoke with a startled grunt and sprang to his feet. After quickly rekindling a blaze, the savage strode to the side of his prisoner. His impassive face relaxed into an amused grin when he discov- ered what the Englishman had done. "Ughl" he grunted. "Big Buffalo is very hun- gry. Like a famished dog he gnaws at his rope." Stooping, he rolled Barton to his former position near the wall and again secured him. Then he re- seated himself by the fire, but he dozed no more. Hal's feeble light of hope went out. To the dis- heartened prisoner, it seemed that dawn would never come. Completely worn out at last, he fell into a troubled sleep in which his whole life passed in review before him. When he awoke — his throat and mouth on fire, his muscles aching excruciat- ingly — rdaylight was streaming into the lodge, through chink and crevice in wall and roof. He made an effort to change his cramped position, but with a groan of agony desisted. "Hello! Feeling first rate this morning?" Rolling his eyes upward. Barton beheld Simon Girty standing near him, an evil smile upon his dark face. With the renegade was a half-breed. 206 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER bearing hot meat and corn-bread upon a wooden platter, Hal made no reply to the outlaw's brutal tatint. "A little surly, eh ? Ill take all that out of you m time. Here> Wolfi"'--addreisslng the half-breed^— "give me the victuals. Now build up the fire. You'll stand guard over this big brute today. And if you let him escape-^well, you know what the Gonsequences 'll be. Sir Harry Barton of England, are you hungry?" Girty laughed sneeringly as he made this inquiry. Instead of answering his tormentor's questictt. Bar- ton asked in return : "How do you know my name?" "Your name? I've heard it plenty of times in the last two years. I'm not likely to forget it either— or the man that bears it." "How do you know my name is Harry ?" "Oh ! Just guessed at it. Hal's a kind of butt- cut of Harry, isn't it? But don't you want some* thing to eat?" "I'm hungry." "Well, I don't know how it is with you, but when I'm hungry I eat. I've found out that's the only way to cure the complaint ; but you've got to keep repeating the dose at intervals. Roll over here and let me unfasten your hands. Hello, here ! You've been gnawing your rOpe, like any other cur. The redskins ought to have named you Big Dc^ instead of Big Buffalo. There, fall to and help yourself. VNDER. MAR ANTHONY'S BANNER. 207 Wolf, tiring this fellow a gourd, of w^ter.^ HJs throat's as dry as a powder-horn — he can't swallow. Sir Harry, pardon my pot feeding yo\} last sight. Other urgent matters caused me to forget your comfort. By the Eternal, but you've a splendid form! Ijf's a shame — yes, a burning shame, ha! ha ! — to kill you off in your prime, by roasting you aUv§ at the stake. By heavens, but you're a coqI one ! My hint of the horrible death that awaits you doesp't seem to interfere with your aippetite. By all the imps of perditiop S I admire you, I dq. I ad- tnire your form, your gifit. I believe I'd tyrn soft- hearted and intercede in your behalf, if it wasn't Cartier's request that you die at the stake." "Why does Lieutenant Cartier desire niy death by torture?" ©arton inquired quietly, stretching forth one of his swollen and stiffened hands for an- other piece of meat, "For two reasons. His own life's at stake. Be- side, you know, you've giver; him no end of trouble in bis Jwe affairs. Yes, he wapts you to die; and his wishes must be carried out. Right at the pres- ent time he has no trouble in getting everything he asks for; he's doing good service for the cause. Then, Sir Harry, I was only joking with you. I wouldn't dare to try to save you, you've been a trifle too intimate with Lew Wetzel; you've kicked over too niany of these red hounds. They thirst for your blood. Of course you understand that I'm tend?r-hearted. But you've been fighting on the 2o8 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. wrong side. Here — Wolf's brought you a drink of water." After eagerly draining the gourd of its contents, 'Hal returned it to the renegade, with the words : "I understand you and your red associates per- fectly, Simon Girty. Also, I understand the Brit- ish and their motives and desires. I've no reason to expect mercy. I desire none. If I can escape unaided, I'll do so. Otherwise I'll die like a man." "You're bold," Girty sneered. "You might reject the aid of many a man less able and willing to help you. But let that, pass — I'll waste no more time with you. An old friend '11 call to see you after awhile." The renegade grinned maliciously as he said this, and waited for Hal to speak ; but receiving no reply he went on : "Here, let me tie your hands. Now, if you try again to escape, I'll pin your neck to the ground with a couple of sticks. Wolf, guard this rascal well; You shall have a pint of rum for your trouble." Girty withdrew. The half-breed took up a posi- tion near the d-aor, gun in hand. Hal relapsed into his former condition of apparent lethargy, but his mind was busy. Two hours passed. The guard still maintained his stolid, upright position. Sud- denly Barton caught the buzz of voices in earnest conversation. One of them sounded strangely fa- miliar. The Englishman was striving to recall UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 209 when and where he had heard it, when the flap of ^in was pushed aside and a white man strode into the room. The interior was in semi-gloom; and apparently the new arrival, coming from the bright light with- out, did not at once notice the prisoner lying close to the dark wall. But Hal Barton, accustomed to the dusky twilight of the lodge, saw the newcomer's features distinctly. It was the debauched and crime- hardened face of his cousin, Dick Holloway ! In a torrent of rage the hot blood surged to Hal's brain. It sang in his ears, and like Thor's hammer rang, blows upon his aching temples. He had vowed that he would kill his cousin, if ever oppor- tunity offered. And here he was — ^he, Hal Barton, the giant — ^bound hand and foot; and Dick Hollo- way had come to mock him! The thought was maddening. He heard Holloway saying: "Where'i the prisoner? Ah! I see him now. Wolf, you may step outside; I wish to speak with him. Here's a shilling for you," But the half-breed stubbornly shook his head and refused to take the money. "What do you mean, you hard-headed dolt?" Holloway cried, his voice thick with anger. "Do you intend to disobey my order ? Go — I say !" The guard sullenly stood his ground, but made no reply. "You stupid blockhead!" thundered the angry 210 Ul^EfKR MAD A>{THONy'S BANNER. m^n. His flabtHy f^ce wfts aflam^ with rage. Pe was tren}b|iflg \vith excitement. "Here," he continued, "take this flask. Qq. and gfet drunk — it's all ypiu'r^ $t for. You wiH pot? Wl^at'? the matte? ? Tell me quickly. 9V I'll stipl? a l^nife into your worthless carcass." The halfThfeed found his totigue a^d apswefed; "Cap'n Girty hitn s^y Wolf to stay here ?.^' watch Bi^ Buffalo^ Cap'n Girty him very piad, if Wolf leave., Wm stay," ri'erditipn take you and Girty hoth!" Jlpllo^y fluttered savagely- "Keep yq^f place, tj^en, yo.u idiqt; it matters not to me. But pirty may crqsg me Qnee top often !" Mumbling half incoherently, he gtaggere^ tq Barton's side, and stood Iqoking down at the pros- trate man. Hal retumeji hi| cousin's gaze, steadr. ily, fiercely, ,He nqte4 tjiat Dick appearei^ ten years Q^^fT thap when he liad last seen hin?-. His cQWntenance was |-nm-so.d(ien ; his gait, shuffling and nerveless. The sme|i of fiery liquor was upon his breath. Steadying himself, Holloway said sneer- ingly: "I suppose yon haven't forgotten me, consin?" "I know you. nick Holloway." The words rang °"*^ like a, fling of de^ance. Dick shruggeji his shoulders and returned laughingly: "Glad to hear it, I'm sure, dear cousin. Of Cqiirse, you're delighted tq see me. Please say that you are." UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 211 Hdl was almost chokihg. He longed to break his fetters ahd tear the mocking miscreant limb from limb. lie replied slowly arid distinctly: "Were my limbs free, I should be pleased to offer you the deception you so richly deserve." "Ah! And what would you do?" "Kill you Where you Statld!" "How delightfully blood-thirsty you are, my dear relative, and how bold and defiaht," Holl&way re- turned, With a hoarse, liibcking laugh. "But don't you think you're ungtateful^^a little indiscireet, too?" Bartoh looked the hatfe he felt; biit made no an- swer. "Why don't yoU talk to itie?" persisted Dick. "Have you lost both your wits and your tongue?" "Leave me to myself," Was Hal's reply. "I don't care to talk to a druhkeh brute.*' HolloWay's face darkened omitlously. "Look here," he cried sharply. "Hal Baftofl, you're an ungrateful traitbi". Pot years you lived on my father*s bounty under the protectiott of the English flag. But you proved false to both your fatuily ahd yoUr country. YoU tfeacherdusly Stole the wortian I loVed; you allied yourself with the enemies of your king. Today yoU have your re- ward. But blood's thicker than Water. As soon as i heard of your capture, I catriB to console yob, cahie promptly." Hal thade no reply. 212 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. "Yes," .his cousin continued in a maudlin, snivel- ing tone, "I came to comfort and aid you, to save your life and free you, if possible — " "You're a base liar — a soulless hypocrite !" inter- rupted Barton, in tones that made his tormentor re- coil a step, and brought a look of surprise into the stolid face of the half-breed on guard. "I neither ask nor desire your aid," the prone giant continued. "I despise you. I'd trample you as a snake. And I loathe everything English for the wrongs that have been heaped upon me. A helpless captive, with no hope of escape or rescue, I fling defiance in your teeth. Do your worst — say your most taunt- ing things ; I'll not reply further. I'm an American — and I know how to meet death." "Huh !" Holloway sneered, recovering himself. "You'll play sullen and speak no more, eh? We'll see how well you keep your resolve. Let me tell you something. Margaret, your darling Margaret, is in this village with you. You evince no sur- prise? Very well, let me go on. As you know, I followed you from England to America; I tracked you from Boston to Wheeling. There, in your ab- sence, I visited your beloved wife at your home; and found her only too willing to leave you and go with me to the ends of the earth, if need be. Of course, you read the note she left you. The secret of it all, my stalwart cousin, is that she always loved me best. Ah ! you squirm. Does my plain state- ment of facts hurt your pride ? Listen. I took her UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 213 with me to Quebec ; from Quebec to Detroit ; from Detroit to this God-forsaken place. She has been my mistress, my servant, my slave. I've kicked, beaten and abused her. Her virtue's gone; her pride's subdued ; her heart's broken. She's a bowed and wrinkled hag. Your peerless Margaret ! Oho ! you groan. Have you nothing to say yet ?" Hal Barton's eyes gleamed like living coals in the dusk of the lodge. His jaws were set ; his features, contorted. His chest heaved spasmodically. His mental anguish was beyond words. But he uttered no sound and made no outcry. Dick HoUoway rubbed his hands and mercilessly continued: "Do you know what I came here for? Why, I brought your wife here? For two reasons. First, to subject her to privations and hardships; second, to let her see you die a horrible death at the hands of your savage captors. It's true. I've been here for months, awaiting your capture, knowing you'd be taken finally. And she shall see you die at the stake. In her presence I'll spurn your mangled body with my foot. I see you're enjoying my re- cital. Why not applaud the efforts I've made to interest and amuse you? You are phlegmatic, cold. And I'm exhausting myself in trying to cheer and comfort you. I'll brace myself with a dram from my flask." After swallowing a quantity of the raw spirits and replacing the flask in his pocket, HoUoway, smacking his lips, resumed : 2?4 UNPgR MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. "There, I feel better. There's jipthing like good liquor to help a man to 4o his duty, i*jid I'm do- ing my test to repay you for your past kindness aqd consideration. But in my zeal to make you forget your trpnhlesi: — the dark present and the darker fu- ture^-I made one little misstatement. I must cor- rect it. Margaret did not leave yon of her own free y;ill, Yqu start? You've syspectpd it, you've feared it ? Well, it's, true. I told yon ^ lie to see you suffer. I teU yOM the truth now to see yo.u suf- fer, I forced Margaret to aqcpmpany me. I had help at hand— ^some of these half-breed dogs you know so well, That note deceived yov, threw you you completely off the track. I knew it would, She wrote it — yes ; but she wrpte it when ghe left Eng- land in ypur qpmpany ; yr rpte it and sent it to me. I kept it, thinking to shpve it dpwn vowr throat some time when j had you in my power. But I found a better use for it, It served my purpose well, I can read your face, I knpw w^at you'd say. W?re you not toq stubbprn to speak. Yes, I dipped her quill iq the ink-jug and purposely spat' tered a few drops of ink upon the putgide. Y^ry cunning, wasn't it? And all these months you've thpnght her jickle, untrqe ; when she would have given her life for yours at any time — " Richard Holloway suddenly ceased spefiking and attempted to spring backward ; but, tripping one foot upon the other, he fell sprawling. Quickly scram- bling to his feet, he stpod vjith dropped jaw and UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 215 bulging eyes, wildly staring at the helpless man whom he had been tormenting. Hal's anger had cooled. The hot flush had forsaken his face; and a shade of sorrow was there in its stead. He viewed his cousin's sudden and unusual action with wonder. "I — I was scared — frightened," Holloway mum- bled stupidly, rubbing his eyes and looking toward the door. "I thought for a moment you were a. great writhing serpent, and were about to coil your- self about me. Ugli ! I'm hot well. I — I — " He hesitated, stammered and stopped. Then, wheeling in his tracks, he hurriedly left the lodge. Wolf stood by the door, impassive afe a graven image. -Bartoti, exhausted from his conflict of emotions, relaxed his tense muscles and stretched full length up&tl the ground, murmuring: "The laws of the God of nature are inexorable. As a mall sows so shall he reap." CHAPTER XVI. Two days passed — days of unalloyed misery to Hal Barton. His body was racked with pain; his heart, torn and bleeding. He rested little and slept less. For the first time in his life he wished' he might die. What was life to him now ? Margaret ? A wreck of her fair self, a battered and broken idol! Judith? Ah, what a tragedy was Hfe! By his own want of confidence in Margaret, he had condemned 'her to a fate worse than death. Her blood was upon his hands. No; the fatal note would have deceived anyone. And it was doubtful if he could have found her and rescued her at any rate. But he had not trusted her I "God forgive me 1" he moaned. "What a terrible mistake I made ! I'm to die at the stake. It is bet- ter so — Judith will never know. But Margaret! My God!" The thought roused him from the lethargy into UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 217 which he had fallen. What was he doing, of what was he thinking? Did he mean to die tamely, and leave his wife to such a fate? But what could he do? He could at least think and plan. He could alertly watch and wait for a chance of escape. Yes, he must. His feeble resolve had Suddenly grown to a fixed purpose. He would eat and sleep; he would — Then he began to think, not of the irretrievable things of the past, but of the perplexities of the present that beset him. He would escape ; he would devote his life to the reset* and care of Margaret. He would never be able to undo the evil that had been done ; but he could partially atone for his error. He felt better. At supper he ate heartily of the food placed before him. That night he slept soundly, and awakened much refreshed. Two things troubled him still. He had failed thus far to formulate a feasible plan of escape; then, there was Judith! He loved her, he had ceased to love Margaret. He felt only pity for his wife. He shuddered at the thought, but it was true. His wife had been true to him, but she held no place in his heart now. She loved him still, he did not doubt it ; but he had no love to give her in return. If he succeeded in escaping death, two roads would await his footprints. The one, a narrow, winding path, shady and flower-bordered, leading to love and Judith; the other, a broad and straight high- way, rough and stony, and dust-white in the glar- 2i8 UNDER MAD ANTHONV'S BANNER. ihg sunlight, leading to duty and Margaret. It cost him a striiggle to decide. Few men are strong ehoiign to rehotiiice love and cling to duty; but Hal Barton was. fheri for the first time since he had learned of Margaret's presence iii the village, he was at peace with hiinself. Rapidly his old strength and energy returned. He felt that should necessity demand, he would be able to burst his bonds, strike to earth all who might oppose liim, and escape to the woods, with Margaret ih his arms. But he' decided to do nothing rash, to bide his time. On the inorhiiig of the fourth day of his incar- ceration, a concourse ot waririors thronged into the lodge and seated theniselveS in a circle about the fire. Gifty was among them, for two hours they shioked their pipes and listened to impassioned speeches by chiefs of the allied tribes. Hal watched the pantomiimc proceedings closely. Occasionally he Understood a word oi" phrase. lie became aware tliat they were talking of him; that they were dis- cussing how they should dispose of him. tte rene- gade was the last to speak ; but he spoke in the In- dian tongue. Barton was no wiser than before. When the council adjourned, Girty tarried, and, moving to the ptisbner's side, said lunfeelingly : "Well, Big Buffalo, they've decided what they're gbihg to do with you. T'omorrow afternoon you'll be tortured at the stake. You want to keep a stiff UNDER HAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. ?I9 ypper lip. The yedskins will get iiifid at you ^nd put you out of your ipisery that much sooner. P.eally I'm a little sorry for you, but it can't be helped.'' When the outlaw had gone, Hal realized that if he did upt §HCQeed in escaping within twenty-four hours, he was lost, He was qnarmed, bound and helples3. Yet he did not despair. The day passed and pight camej yet he was no nearer liberty thap he had been in the morning, After eating heartily of the meat and corn-bread the g^ard gaye him, he grew drowsy and fell into a light sleep. Hark! What was that sound? A chorus of whoops and cheers, mingled with the bark of dogs and the patter of jnoccasined feet, greeted his ears. He was wide awake in a moment. The uproar yf^s receding, Hal's heart beat expectantly; and his hope rose. Was a conflict going on? Had the vil- lage been attacked by a detacbment of troops from Wayne's army? Wolf was guarding the prisioner at the tin^e- The half-breed's wonted impassiveness forsook him ; and he restlessly paced up and down the room, At; last he approached Parton, and stooping carefylly ex- amined the throngs that bound the ^Englishman's limbs. Then? apparently satisfied, he dashed aside the Qurtain of skips that closed the doorway, apd was gone. Hal lay listening intently, wondering what it ail meant, He could hear no sound but the suppressed 320 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. murmur of m^ny voices in the far distance. A half minute passed. Ah! someone was entering the lodge. The curtain was cautiously pushed aside. A light footfall sounded upon the hard-packed earth. From the place he occupied. Barton could not see the newcomer. The fire burned dimly and the room was in partial darkness. The footsteps slowly, almost noiselessly, drew nearer. Turning his head, he discerned the outlines of a female fig- ure. He thought it was some squaw, come to tor- ment him, till there was whispered in. his ear the one word : "Hal!" "Margaret!" he ejaculated. Dropping upon her knees, she covered his face with kisses, murmuring brokenly : "At last— at last ! Oh ! Hal— my lad— my lad !" His heart was in his throat; he could not speak. Her hot tears bathed his cheeks ; her hands caressed and fondled him. "Hal, my lad, have you no word for me?" she sobbed. He found his voice and feelingly replied : "Margaret, my lass, my wife ! If only my hands were free, that I might touch you!" His words electrified her. Like a flash she leaped to her feet and darted from the place. He scarcely had time to wonder what she meant to do, ere she had returned and severed the thongs, and he was free. Neither spoke. With her help he got upon UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 221 his feet. At first he could scarcely stand. Throw- ing his arms around her, he pressed her to his bosom and mingled his tears with hers. Both, for one brief moment, were living in the happy past. A stick of wood upon the fife broke in twain, and, sending a cloud of sparks toward the roof, burst into a bright blaze. In the increased light, he saw that she was indeed worn and feeble. Her form was slightly bent and she looked wgak and sick. "Do not tarry! Go— go!" she panted. "Take this knife — it's all the weapon I have to give you. But go before it's too late !" "What meant the uproar I heard ? Where is the half-breed that guarded me? " he asked hurriedly. "A boatload of supplies and presents from Can- ada has arrived," she explained. "The whole vil- lage is at the riverside. The temptation was too much for the guard; he feared he would not get his share of the rum. He has gone, too. I watched and prayed for a chance to see you, to liberate you, if possible. When I saw him leave the lodge I came to you. But in ray_ haste and trepidation, I forgot the knife. Go at once, Hal — please go !" "Not without you," he answered stoutly. "No — no," she pleaded; "do go alone. Hall Alone you may escape ; with me you will be retaken. Leave me to my fate. I'll not have to bear it long; I'm failing rapidly. You're wasting precious time. Oh, go, Hal, my lad !" i.22 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. Her woi'ds cut him to the tjuifck. Almost sternly he replied: "We escape or die togethet", Margaret !" "But you cannot escape with itie," she criecl, \*fiiigihg her h^ilds in an agony of grief and fear. "I c6uldtt't Accompany j^oU a mile-^^I'm too weak. Every moment is precious. You're coilirting death by delay:'' For the first tithe he realized how feeble she was. She was ghastly pale, and her limbs were trembling. Naught but excitenlent had sustained her thus far. He bowed his head ; and the tears trickled down his cheeks: She pUUed htm down and kissed them awayj, ttitirHlUring soothingly: "f here^thefe, l£ld ! Don't ciy. The past is gone fofevef . We fcannbt retail it. Make yoUr escape while there is yet tifne. t shall die happy, knowirig that you are free-^" "Never!" he cHed> iitl a tone so IbUd that she started and glaated appi-ehehfeiyely drGund. "I will hot leave you, Margaret. Listeii, lass. I'vfe ilfevSt searched for ybU, tievet- rllade an effort to find and rescue you. I thotlght ybU had left me of your own accord — gone With my cousth because you preferred him to m&^" Throwing her arhlS about his neck, she breathed ihto hi§ ear: "I khdW everything, Hal, my love. Richard H6l- loway has told me of the deception he practiced after he had borne me screaming and struggling Ul^D^R MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 223 from the cabin. The note did its work, as intended. I've never blamed nor censured you for believing me false. Thr-qu^Ji it all I've loved you, Hal, and I've been true to you, lad — true to the sacred vow I took — though I've been beaten, kicked and abused. If one spark of Ipye for me yet remains in your heart, leave me at once. Grant me ttie pleasure of knowing I've been instrumental in saving you. For oh, Hal, I love you better than I love my life — ^my- self — or my God !" For answer he caught her up as though she were a babe, and, pressing her quailing form to his heart, strode toward the door. Pity, not passipn, was actuating him, pity so ^weet and tender tbat it seemed the holiest love. With his disengaged right hand, that held the knife she had given him, he pushed aside the flap of skins and stood in the open doorway. The cold night air fanned his brow. It was grateful to the hot-blpoded man, b^t the thin form in his arms shivered and nestled closer to his throbbing heart. The heavens were bkck and snow was falling. "It will hide our trail," was the thought in Hal's mind. A moment he stood there, mentally taking his bearingg and deciding which way tq go. Then he took a step or two into the darkness. A mocking laugh arrested his progress; and a num- ber of dark forms arose in his path. He had tar- ried too long; his escape was cut off. "Not so fast, there, cousin mine," came thp voice of Dick Holloway from the Stygian blackness. 224 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. "Would you run away without bidding us goodby, and leave us sorrowing over your departure? Besides, you'd deprive us of the pleasure of your company on the morrow, when we're to have a fete in your honor. How ungrateful you are of the many kindnesses we've showered upon you. And I see you have my Margaret, my lily, with you. Turn about and re-enter the lodge. We cannot spare you." Barton felt the frail form in his arms grow limp ; and he thought she had fainted. But the whispered words, — "Drop me and flee," came faintly to his ear. Bending his head, he answered tenderly: "The end has come. Put your arms around my neck. We'll die together." HoUoway advanced upon the;n, saying: "This is no time for billing and cooing. Do as I bid you, Hal Barton, or the consequences will be upon your own head. I was expecting a move of this kind ; and I've caught you. If you don't want to see the woman torn to pieces by these savages, drop her and go back into the lodge. Do you hear me?" Without a word, Hal lunged forward, striking at his cousin with the knife he held in his hand. A burning, stinging pain in the chest warned Hollo- way that he was wounded; and, springing back- ward, he cried frantically to the Indians : "On him, braves ! He has wounded me. Snatch UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. 225. the jade from his arms and beat his brains out if he don't submit." The savages, a dozen in number, leaped for- ward to execute the order. Handicapped as he was, Hal could make but feeble resistance ; but he had no intention of surrendering. However, a diversion occurred in his favor. Ere his enemies could lay violent hands upon him, Simon Girty appeared upon the scene and shouted in ringing tones : "Back, you hellhounds! What's the meaning of this?" The warriors slunk back a few steps, leaving the renegade standing by Barton's side. Hal set Mar- garet upon her feet, placed an arm around her, and calmly awaited the outcome. Holloway stepped forward and asked angrily: "Girty, why do you interfere in my affairs ?" "Your affairs !" the outlaw sneered. "Yes, my affairs. And it isn't the first time you've meddled. "You're a modest young man!" Girty retorted angrily. "Is not this man my prisoner? Did you capture him? And I come here and find him free and you urging the Indians to kill him. You may explain, Richard Holloway." "I mill explain," the other blustered. "I found him free, and carrying off that young woman who leans so lovingly upon him. He attacked and wounded me. Then I ordered the Indians to over- 226 UNDER MAD ANTHONY'S BANNER. power him and return him to the lodge. Is that satisfactory ?" "How did he free himself?" inquired Girty in return. "The guard left him. And that wench cut his ■honds. I suspected her design and watched." Then, turning to Margaret, Dick continued ; "Come, my lily—