"No, sir," replied the officer; "you know your offence well enough;
return to your place of confinement."

The man ran down-stairs, wrenched the gun from the sergeant's hand, and,
rushing back, discharged it at the heart of Lieutenant Foster.

He turned to go to his inner apartment, but exclaiming, "Ah me!" he fell
dead before the entrance.

Doyle, having been tried by a civil court, was now under sentence,
awaiting his execution. He was a hardened villain, never exhibiting the
slightest compunction for his crime.

The commanding officer, Major Clark, sent to him one day to inquire if
he wanted anything for his comfort.

"If the Major pleased," he replied, "he should like to have a light and
a copy of Byron's Works."

Some fears were entertained that he would contrive to make way with
himself before the day of execution, and, to guard against it, he was
deprived of everything that could furnish him a weapon. His food was
served to him in a wooden bowl, lest a bit of broken crockery might he
used as a means of self destruction.

One morning he sent a little package to the commanding officer as a
present. It contained a strong rope, fabricated from strips of his
blanket, that he had carefully separated, and with a large stout spike
at the end of it. The message accompanying it was, "He wished Major
Clark to see that if he chose to put an end to himself, he could find
means to do it in spite of him."

And this hardened frame of mind continued to the last. When he was led
out for execution, in passing beyond the gate, he observed a quantity of
lumber recently collected for the construction of a new Company's
warehouse.

"Ah, captain, what are you going to build here?" inquired he of Captain
Scott, who attended him.

"Doyle," replied his captain, "you have but a few moments to live--- you
had better employ your thoughts about something else."

"It is for that very reason, captain," said he, "that I am inquiring--as
my time is short, I wish to gain all the information I can while it
lasts."

* * * * *

We were not suffered to remain long in suspense in regard to the friends
we had left behind. In less than two weeks Old Smoker again made his
appearance. He was the bearer of letters from my husband, informing me
that General Dodge was then with him at Port Winnebago, that Generals
Henry and Alexander were likewise at the Fort, and that as soon as they
had recruited their men an