been traced with care, the principal fords over the larger streams were
marked, and the various government posts and trading settlements
distinctly located and named. Searching for the head of the Great
Lake, we were not long in discovering the position of the fort called
Dearborn, which seemingly was posted upon the western shore, nearly
opposite another garrison point at the mouth of the St. Joseph river.
We were able to trace with clearness the military road that had been
constructed northward from Fort Wayne, our nearest government post; but
the map failed to exhibit evidence of any beaten track, or used trail,
leading westward and around the head of the lake. There were numerous
irregular lines which denoted unnamed streams, but by far the larger
portion of the territory extending to the west beyond Fort Wayne had
been simply designated as "forest land" and "unexplored."

"Friend Burns tells me there is a trail used by both troops and
savages, which he has traversed several times," my father explained, as
he lifted his eyes from the map; "but it is not over plain, nor easily
followed, as communication with the Fort is mostly maintained by means
of the waterways to the northward. The overland journey, however, will
prove speedier, besides being less liable to disaster for one
unaccustomed to boats. How soon can John be ready, mother?"

Her voice trembled, and I felt the pressure of her hand upon my sleeve.

"It will take all of the morrow, David, to prepare his clothing
properly," she replied, with the patient resignation of the frontier.
"There is much that will need seeing after."

"Then John will start the next dawn. You had best ride the brown colt,
my son; he is of good breed, and speedy. Seth shall accompany you
until you find suitable companionship at Hawkins's. He will bring back
word of how you started, and that knowledge will greatly comfort your
mother."

He paused, and held out his thin hands.

"You go upon this strange journey willingly, my son?"

"Yes, father."

"You will be both kind and thoughtful with Roger Matherson's little
girl?"

"She shall be to me as my own sister."

I felt the confiding clasp of his fingers, and realized how much to him
would be a successful termination of my journey.

"Kiss your mother, John," he said, a trustful look coming into his
kindly eyes. "We must all be astir early on the morrow."

Beneath the rived shingles of my little room, under the slopi