The sun was already high, painting with gold the interior of the western wall of the stockade, when some unusual disturbance aroused me, so that I sat up and looked about, scarce realizing for the moment where I was.

The parade was alive with moving figures; and I instantly marked the cheery look on the faces of those nearest me, as if the entire garrison rejoiced that the hour for departure had at last arrived.

The northern half of the little open space was filled with loaded wagons of every description, to which horses, mules, and even oxen, were being rapidly hitched; while women and children were clambering in over the wheels, perching themselves upon the heaps of camp accoutrements, and rolling up the canvas coverings in order that they might the better see out and feel the soft refreshment of the morning air.
The officers of the post were moving here and there among the throng of workers, grave of face, yet making no effort to curb the unusual gaiety of the enlisted men.

For the time, all reins of discipline seemed relaxed.

The few settlers and plainsmen who had gathered within the Fort for protection looked on stolidly, either lying in the shade of the log wall or lounging beside their horses already equipped for the trail; while the Miamis were gathered restlessly about their breakfast fires, their faces unexpressive of emotion, as usual, although many among them had blackened their cheeks in expectation of disaster.
Evidently the hour fixed upon for our final desertion of Fort Dearborn was close at hand; and I hastened to seek opportunity for a bath and breakfast.