aces with them, and they were always
hanging to her.

"And you turn red so queerly sometimes," said Gaston, much puzzled. "I
can't tell which is the prettier, the red or the white. But the red
seems for M. St. Armand."

Loudac and the dame were overjoyed to see her again. The good dame shook
her head knowingly.

"The Sieur will not keep her long," she said.

Old Detroit rose very slowly from its ashes. In August Governor Hull
arrived and found no home awaiting him, but had to go some distance to a
farm house for lodgings. He brought with him many eastern ideas. The old
streets must be widened, the lanes straightened, the houses made more
substantial. There was a great outcry against the improvements. Old
Detroit had been good enough. It was the center of trade, it commanded
the highway of commerce. And no one had any money to spend on foolery.

But he persevered until he obtained a grant from Congress, and set to
work rectifying wrongs that had crept in, reorganizing the courts, and
revising property deeds. The old Fort was repaired, the barracks put in
better shape, the garrison augmented.

But the event the Sieur Angelot had feared and foreseen, came to pass.
Many difficulties had arisen between England and the United States, and
at last culminated in war again. This time the northern border was the
greatest sufferer on land. The Indians were aroused to new fury, the
different tribes joining under Tecumseh, resolved to recover their
hunting grounds. The many terrible battles have made a famous page in
history. General Hull surrendered Detroit to the British, and once more
the flag of England waved in proud triumph.

But it was of short duration. The magnificent victories on the lakes and
Generals Harrison's and Winchester's successes on land, again changed
the fate of the North. Once more the stars and stripes went up over
Detroit, to remain for all time to come.

But after that it was a new Detroit,--wide streets and handsome
buildings growing year by year, but not all the old landmarks
obliterated; and their memories are cherished in many a history and
romance.

Jeanne St. Armand, a happy young wife, with two fathers very fond of
her, went back to Detroit after awhile. And sometimes she wondered if
she had really been the little girl to whom all these things had
happened.

When Louis Marsac heard the White Chief had found his daughter and given
her to Laurent St. Armand, he ground his teeth in impotent