It was all a mystery to me. Where had the Indian come from? Who had shot him? I stood an instant gazing down upon the still savage in dumbfounded amazement, then took my rifle and started back to the men in search of an explanation of it all. Presently I overtook Givens' foster son, who was hurrying forward as fast as he could. I caught up with him, halted him, and asked if he had shot the Indian. He did not answer, and only pulled his cap farther over his eyes. I took his rifle, and looked into the bore of it; it was warm, empty, and smelled strongly of powder.
"Givens," I said planting myself before him, and holding out my hand, "you have just saved my life, doubtless. Won't you let me thank you?"
The beardless lips of the lad, about all I could see of his face under his wide brimmed cap, curved into a half smile, and he said, in muffled voice, his head still on his chest:
"The savage had just poised his tomahawk for a blow when I saw him."
"You acted most promptly," I answered; "he might have brought a whole tribe down upon us, so that you have perhaps saved the entire band, as well as Donald McElroy." I continued to talk, to praise his coolness, readiness, and marksmanship, and to repeat my thanks, but I got no more out of the lad and it was so evident that I embarrassed and annoyed him that presently I walked on and left him to follow. He seemed affected with a painful shyness, and apparently preferred solitude to the most flattering society.
No immediate opportunity was given me to tell Givens of his boy's kindly deed, for, just as I joined him and Colonel Clark, talking earnestly together, Saunders, still attended by his guards, came running toward us, waving his arms, and shouting joyously. He had found a landmark, and knew our locality! We were but a day's march from Kaskaskia, and the way was safe and open!
"Comrades," said Clark the next morning, just as we were falling into line of march, "have you remembered the day? It is the fourth of July, my men--the anniversary of our Declaration of Independence, the birthday of our liberties--day propitious in the history of the United States of America! Our guide tells me that we are but six leagues from Kaskaskia, and I have already planned our attack. Bloodless victory awaits us--for I can rely on each man of you to do only and all that is expected of him. We will march within half a mile of the fort this morning, conceal ourselves in the woods until dark, and, then, dividing into two companies, we will rush into the town from opposite ends, shouting and brandishing our knives.