an about any real hardship of the march. 'T is my
memory that he rather grew upon us; for his natural spirits were so
high that he sang where others swore, and found cause for amusement and
laughter in much that tested sorely even the Indian-like patience of
Wells. He was like a boy, this gayly perfumed dandy of the French
court; but beneath his laces and ribbons, his affectations and
conceits, there hid a stout heart that bade him smile where other men
would lie down and die. He companioned mostly with Jordan as we
journeyed, for Wells never could become reconciled to his mincing ways;
yet I confess now that I began to value him greatly, and longed more
than once to join with the two who rode in our advance, cheering their
wearisome way with quips of fancy and snatches of song. He knew it
too, the tantalizing rascal, and would frequently send back a biting
squib over his shoulder, hoping thus to draw me away from the silent
grim-faced soldier beside whom I held place.

It was truly a rough and wild journey, full enough of hardship, and
without adventure to give zest to the ceaseless toil. I know now that
we made a wide detour to the southward, trusting thus to avoid any
possible contact with prowling bands of either Pottawattomies or
Wyandots, whom our friendly Miamis seemed greatly to dread. This took
us far from the regular trail, rough and ill-defined as that was, and
plunged us into ah untrodden wilderness; so that there were times when
we fairly had to cut our way through the twisted forest branches and
tangled brakes of cane with tomahawks and hunting-knives. We skirted
rocky bluffs, toiled painfully over fallen timber, or waded ankle deep
in softened clay, in the black gloomy shadows of dense woods which
seemed interminable, meeting with nothing human, yet constantly
startling wild game from the hidden coverts, and feeling more and more,
as we advanced, the loneliness and danger of our situation,--realizing
that each league we travelled only added to the length and peril of our
retreat if ever disaster came or Fort Dearborn were found deserted.

Captain Wells, naturally grave and silent from his long training among
savages, grew more and more reticent and watchful as we progressed,
riding often at my side for hours without uttering a word, his keen
eyes warily searching the dark openings upon every hand as if
suspecting that each spot of gloom might prove the chosen place for an
ambuscade. Our Indian al