353
“Dear,” he whispered tenderly, “we are alone now––you are sorry?”
“I am happier than I have ever been in my life,” I answered honestly. “I have done what I believe to be right, and trust God. All I care to know now is that you love me.”
“With every throb of my heart,” he said solemnly. “It is my love which makes me dread lest you regret.”
“That will never be, Monsieur; I am of the frontier, and do not fear the woods. Ah! he has reached the rock safely––’tis the signal.”
De Artigny drew up the cord, testing it to make sure the strands held firm, and made careful noose, into which he slipped my foot.
“Now, Adele, you are ready?”
“Yes, sweetheart; kiss me first.”
“You have no fear?”
“Not with your strong hands to support, but do not keep me waiting long below.”
Ay, but I was frightened as I swung off into the black void, clinging desperately to that slight rope, steadily sinking downward. My body rubbed against the rough logs, and then against rock. Once a jagged edge wounded me, yet I dare not release my grip, or utter a sound. I sank down, down, the strain ever greater on my nerves. I retained no knowledge of distance, but grew apprehensive of what awaited me below.354Would the rope reach to the rock? Would I swing clear? Even as these thoughts began to horrify, I felt a hand grip me, and Boisrondet’s whisper gave cheerful greeting.
“It is all right, Madame; release your foot, and trust me. Good, now do not venture to move, until Rene joins us. Faith, he wastes little time; he is coming now.”
I could see nothing, not even the outlines of my companion, who stood holding the cord taut. I could feel the jagged face of the rock, against which I stood, and ventured, by reaching out with one foot, to explore my immediate surroundings. The groping toe touched the edge of the narrow shelf, and I drew back startled at thought of another sheer drop into the black depths. My heart was still pounding when De Artigny found foothold beside me. As he swung free from the cord, his fingers touched my dress.
“A fine test of courage that, Adele,” he whispered, “but with Francois here below there was small peril. Now what next?”
“A ticklish passage for a few yards. Stand close until I get by; now cling to the wall, and follow me. Once off this shelf we can plan our journey. Madame, take hold of my jacket. Rene, you have walked this path before.”
“Ay, years since, but I recall its peril.”
355
We crept forward, so cautiously it seemed we scarcely moved, the rock shelf we traversed so narrow in places that I could scarce find space in which to plant my feet firmly. Boisrondet whispered words of guidance back to me, and I could feel De Artigny touch my skirt as he followed, ready to grip me if I fell. Yet then I experienced no fear, no shrinking, my every thought centered on the task. Nor was the way long. Suddenly we clambered onto a flat rock, crossed it, and came to the edge of a wood, with a murmur of water not far away. Here Boisrondet paused, and we came close about him. There seemed to be more light here, although the tree shadows were grim, and the night rested about us in impressive silence.
“Here is where the river trail comes down,” and Boisrondet made motion to the left. “You should remember that well, Rene.”
“I was first to pass over it; it leads to the water edge.”
“Yes; not so easily followed in the night, yet you are woodsman enough to make it. So far as we know from above the Iroquois have not discovered there is a passage here. Listen, Rene; I leave you now, for those were De Tonty’s orders. He said that from now on you would be safe alone. Of course he knew nothing of Madame’s purpose.”
356
“Monsieur shall not find me a burden,” I interrupted.
“I am sure of that,” he said gallantly, “and so think it best to return while the night conceals my movements. There will be hot words when M. Cassion discovers your escape, and my chief may need my sword beside him, if it comes to blows. Is my decision to return right, Rene?”
“Ay, right; would that I might be with you. But what plan did M. de Tonty outline for me to follow?”
“’Twas what I started to tell. At the edge of the water, but concealed from the river by rocks, is a small hut where we keep hidden a canoe ready fitted for any secret service. ’Twas Sieur de la Salle’s thought that it might prove of great use in time of siege. No doubt it is there now just as we left it, undiscovered of the Iroquois. This will bear you down the river until daylight, when you can hide along shore.”
“There is a rifle?”
“Two of them, with powder and ball.” He laid his hand on the other’s shoulder. “There is nothing more to say, and time is of value. Farewell, my friend.”
“Farewell,” their fingers clasped. “There will be other days, Francois; my gratitude to M. de Tonty.” Boisrondet stepped back, and, hat in hand, bowed to me.
“Adieu, Madame; a pleasant journey.”
357
“A moment, Monsieur,” I said, a falter in my voice. “You are M. de Artigny’s friend, an officer of France, and a Catholic.”
“Yes, Madame.”
“And you think that I am right in my choice? that I am doing naught unworthy of my womanhood?”
Even in the darkness I saw him make the symbol of the cross, before he bent forward and kissed my hand.
“Madame,” he said gravely, “I am but a plain soldier, with all my service on the frontier. I leave to the priests the discussion of doctrines, and to God my punishment and reward. I can only answer you as De Artigny’s friend, and an officer of France. I give you honor, and respect, and deem your love and trust far more holy than your marriage. My faith, and my sword are yours, Madame.”
I felt his lips upon my hand, yet knew not he had gone. I stood there, my eyes blinded with tears at his gallant words, only becoming conscious of his disappearance, when De Artigny drew me to him, his cheek pressed against my hair.
“He has gone! we are alone!”
“Yes, dear one; but I thank God for those last words. They have given me courage, and faith. So my old comrades believe us right the criticism of others does not move me. You love me, Adele? you do not regret?”
358
My arms found way about his neck; my lips uplifted to his.
“Monsieur, I shall never regret; I trust God, and you.”
How he ever found his way along that dim trail I shall never know. Some memory of its windings, together with the instinct of a woodsman, must have given guidance, while no doubt his feet, clad in soft Indian moccasins, enabled him to feel the faint track, imperceivable in the darkness. It led along a steep bank, through low, tangled bushes, and about great trees, with here and there a rock thrust across the path, compelling detour. The branches scratched my face, and tore my dress, confusing me so that had I not clung to his arm, I should have been instantly lost in the gloom. Our advance was slow and cautious, every step taken in silence. Snakes could not have moved with less noise, and the precaution was well taken. Suddenly De Artigny stopped, gripping me in warning. For a moment there was no sound, except the distant murmur of waters, and the chatter of some night bird. Yet some instinct of the woods held the man motionless, listening. A twig cracked to our left, and then a voice spoke, low and rumbling. It sounded so close at hand the fellow could scarcely have been five yards away. Another voice answered, and we were aware of bodies, stealing along through the wood; there was359a faint rustling of dead leaves, and the occasional swish of a branch. We crouched low in the trail, fairly holding our breath, every nerve tense. There was no sound from below, but in the other direction one warrior––I could see the dim outline of his naked figure––passed within reach of my outstretched hand.
Assured that all had passed beyond hearing De Artigny rose to his feet, and assisted me to rise, his hand still grasping mine.
“Iroquois, by the look of that warrior,” he whispered, “and enough of them to mean mischief. I would I knew their language.”
“’Twas the tongue of the Tuscaroras,” I answered. “My father taught me a little of it years ago. The first words spoken were a warning to be still; the other answered that the white men are all asleep.”
“And I am not sure but that is true. If De Tonty was in command the walls would be well guarded, but De Baugis and Cassion know nothing of Indian war.”
“You believe it to be an assault?”
“It hath the look; ’tis not Indian nature to gather thus at this night hour, without a purpose. But,pouf, there is little they can do against that stockade of logs for all their numbers. It is our duty to be well away by daylight.”
The remaining distance to the water’s edge was not far––a direct descent amid a litter of rocks, shadowed360by great trees. Nothing opposed our passage, nor did we hear any sound from the savages concealed in the forest above. De Artigny led the way along the shore until we reached the log hut. Its door stood open; the canoe was gone.
361CHAPTER XXXIIWE MEET SURPRISE
Not until we had felt carefully from wall to wall did we admit our disappointment. There were no overshadowing trees here, and what small glimmer of light came from the dull skies found reflection on river and rocks, so that we could perceive each other, and gain dim view of our surroundings.
Of the canoe there was absolutely no trace, and, if arms had been hidden there also, they had likewise disappeared. The very fact that the door stood wide open, its wooden lock broken, told the story clearly. I remained silent, staring about through the semi-darkness of the interior, rendered speechless by a feeling of utter helplessness. De Artigny, after an utterance of disappointment, felt his way along the walls; as he came back to the open door our eyes met, and he must have read despair in mine, for he smiled encouragingly.
“Swept bare, little girl,” he said. “Not so much as an ounce of powder left. The savages got here before us, it seems. Never mind; we shall have to travel a ways on woodcraft, and it will not be the first362wilderness journey I have made without arms. Did De Tonty mention to you where he believed the Illini were in hiding?”
“No, Monsieur––are they Indians?”
“Yes; the river tribes, the most loyal of all to La Salle. It was one of their villages we saw on the bank of the stream as we approached the fort from the west, I told Boisrondet that it stood there deserted, but not destroyed, and it was our judgment the inhabitants were hiding among the river bluffs. Without canoes they could not travel far, and are probably concealed out yonder. If we can find them our greatest peril is past.”
“They are friendly?”
“Ay, and have never shed white blood. I know them well, and with leadership they would be a match even for the Iroquois. De Tonty led them once against these same warriors, and they fought like fiends. Come, we will follow the stream, and see if we cannot find trace of their covert.”
It was but a cluster of rocks where the hut stood, and a few yards below we found the forest creeping down to the very bank of the river. The sky had lightened above us, the obscuring clouds opening to let the silver gleam of stars through, and we paused a moment gazing back, and upward at the vast rock on which perched the beleaguered fort. We could dimly363perceive the vague outline of it silhouetted against the lighter arch of sky. In massive gloom and silence it seemed to dominate the night, the grim forest sweeping up to its very walls. Not a gleam of light appeared; not a sound reached us. I felt De Artigny’s arm about me.
“I would that I really knew what was going on yonder ’neath the screen of trees,” he said gravely. “Some Indian trick, perchance, which it might be in my power to circumvent––at least bear to the lads fair warning.”
“You would risk life for that?”
“Ay, my own readily. That is a lesson of the wilderness; the duty of a comrade. But for your presence I should be climbing the hill seeking to learn the purpose of those savages––else I was no true soldier of France.”
“What think you their purpose is, Monsieur?”
“An attack in force at dawn. Those who passed us were heavily armed, and crept forward stealthily, stripped and painted for war. There were other parties, no doubt, creeping up through the woods from all sides. ’Tis my thought the hour has struck for them to make their great effort. They have scattered the friendly Indians, killed them, or driven them in terror down the river. Their villages have been destroyed. Now all the warriors who have been at364that business have returned, filled with blood lust, and eager to strike at the French.”
“But they cannot win? Surely they cannot capture the fort, Monsieur? Why it is all rock?”
“On three sides––yes; but to the south there is ample space for attack in force. Those woods yonder would conceal a thousand savages within a few hundred yards of the fort gates. And what of the defense? Opposing them is one hundred and fifty feet of stockade, protected at best by fifty rifles. There are no more in the fort, officers, Indians, and all; and Boisrondet says scarcely a dozen rounds of powder and ball to a man. If the Iroquois know this––and why should they not?––’twill be no great feat of arms to batter their way in. I would do that which is right, Adele, if I saw clearly.”
I clung to his hands, staring back still at the grim outline of the silent fort. I understood his thoughts, his desire to aid his comrades; but, for a moment, my mind was a blank. I could not let him go, alone, to almost certain death. No, nor would he abandon me on such a mission! Was there no other way by which we could serve? Suddenly a thought crept into my mind.
“Monsieur,” I asked breathlessly, “where do you suppose those Illini Indians to be?”
“Back from the river, in a glen of caves and rocks.”
365
“How far from here?”
“Four or five miles; there is a trail from the mouth of the creek.”
“And you know the way? and there might be many warriors there? they will remember you, and obey your orders?”
He straightened up, aroused as the full meaning of my questioning occurred to him.
“Ay, there is a chance there, if we find them in time, and in force enough to make foray.Sacre!I know not why such thought has not come to me before. Could we but fall on those devils from the rear in surprise, even with a third their number, they would run like cats.Mon Dieu!I thank you for the thought.”
We plunged into the forest, no longer endeavoring to advance silently, but inspired with a desire to achieve our goal as soon as possible. At the mouth of a stream entering the river, De Artigny picked me up in his arms, and waded across. On the opposite bank he sought eagerly on hands and knees for the old trace he dimly remembered. At last he stood erect.
“Ay, lass, it’s here, and to be easily followed. What hour do you make it now?”
“About three.”
“So I would have said; and ’tis not daylight until after five. We can scarce make it, yet we will try.”
It was not as dark here away from the gloom of366the Rock; the forest was open, and yet I will never know how De Artigny succeeded in following that dim trail at so rapid a gait. As for me I could see nothing of any path, and merely followed him blindly, not even certain of the nature of the ground under my feet. Again and again I tripped over some obstacles––a root, a tuft of grass––and continually unnoted branches flapped against my face. Once I fell prone, yet so noiselessly that Rene passed beyond view before he realized my misfortune, and returned to help me regain my feet. Not until then, I think, did he comprehend the rapidity of his movements.
“Your pardon, dear girl,” and his lips brushed my hair, as he held me in his arms. “I forgot all but our comrades yonder. The night is dark to your eyes.”
“I can see nothing,” I confessed regretfully, “yet you have no difficulty.”
“’Tis a woodsman’s training. I have followed many a dim trail in dark forests, and this is so plain I could keep to it on a run if necessary. Ah! the fort is awake and vigilant––that was rifle fire.”
I had not only heard the sharp reports, but seen the flash of fire cleaving the darkness.
“The discharges came from the woods yonder––they were Indian guns, Monsieur. See! those two last were from the stockade; I could perceive the logs in the flare.”
367
“Ay, and that is all; the lads will waste no ammunition in the gloom, except to tell the savages they are awake and ready.”
“How far have we traveled, Monsieur?”
“A mile, perhaps. At the crooked oak yonder we leave the stream. You met with no harm when you fell?”
“No more than a bruise. I can go on now.”
We turned to the right, and plunged into the thicket, the way now so black that I grasped his jacket in fear of becoming lost. We were clambering up a slight hill, careless of everything but our footing, when there was a sudden rustling of the low branches on either side our path. De Artigny stopped, thrusting me back, while at that very instant, indistinct forms seemed to leap forth from the covert. It occurred so quickly, so silently, that before I even realized danger, he was struggling madly with the assailants. I heard the crash of blows, an oath of surprise, a guttural exclamation, a groan of pain. Hands gripped me savagely; I felt naked bodies, struggled wildly to escape, but was flung helplessly to the ground, a hand grasping my hair. I could see nothing only a confused mass of legs and arms, but De Artigny was still on his feet, struggling desperately. From some hand he had grabbed a rifle, and swung it crashing into the faces of those grappling him. Back he came step by step,368fighting like a fiend, until he stood over me. With one wide sweep of his clutched weapon he struck me free, a blow which shattered the gun stock, and left him armed only with the iron bar. But the battle fury was on him; dimly I could see him towering above me, bareheaded, his clothes torn to rags, the grim barrel poised for a blow.
“St. Ann!” he cried exultantly. “’Tis a good fight so far––would you have more of it?”
“Hold!” broke in a French voice from out the darkness. “What means this? Are you of white blood?”
“I have always supposed so.”
“A renegade consorting with devils of the Iroquois?”
“Mon Dieu!No! an officer of Fort St. Louis.”
I could see the white man thrust aside the Indian circle, and strike through. His face was invisible, although I was upon my knees now, but he was a short, heavily built fellow.
“Stand back! ay, make room. Saint Guise, we are fighting our own friends. If you are of the garrison name yourself.”
De Artigny, still clasping his rifle barrel, reached out his other hand, and lifted me to my feet.
“Perchance,” he said coolly, “if I were a stickler for etiquette, I might ask you first for some explanation369of this attack. However, we have made some heads ring, so I waive that privilege. I am the Sieur de Artigny, a lieutenant of La Salle’s.”
“Mon Dieu!” the other stepped forward, his hand outstretched. “’Tis no unknown name to me, although we have never before met by some chance––I am Francois de la Forest.”
“La Forest! You were in France three months ago.”
“Aye; I was there when Sieur de la Salle landed. He told me the whole tale. I was with him when he had audience with Louis. I am here now bearing the orders of the King, countersigned by La Barre at Quebec, restoring De Tonty to command at Fort St. Louis, and bidding De Baugis and that fool Cassion return to New France.”
De Artigny crushed the man’s hand in both his own, dropping the rifle barrel to the ground. His voice trembled as he made answer.
“He won the King’s favor? he convinced Louis?”
“No doubt of that––never saw I a greater miracle.”
“And the Sieur de la Salle––has he returned?”
“Nay; he remains in France, to fit out an expedition to sail for the mouth of the Great River. He hath special commission from the King. To me was given the honor of bearing his message. Ah! but La Barre370raved like a mad bull when I handed him the King’s order. I thought he would burst a blood vessel, and give us a new governor. But no such luck. Pah! I stood there, struggling to keep a straight face, for he had no choice but obey. ’Twas a hard dose to swallow, but there was Louis’ orders in his own hand, all duly sealed; and a command that I be dispatched hither with the message.”
“How made you the journey in so short a time?”
“Overland from Detroit, the same trail you traveled with La Salle; ’tis much the shorter.”
“Alone?”
“With twocourier de bois; they are with me now. But what is this De Artigny you have with you––a woman?”
371CHAPTER XXXIIIWARRIORS OF THE ILLINI
“Yes, M. de la Forest,” I said, stepping forward to save Rene from a question which would embarrass him. “I am the daughter of Captain la Chesnayne, whom the Sieur de Artigny hath taken under his protection.”
“La Chesnayne’s daughter! Ah, I heard the story told in Quebec––’twas La Barre’s aid who gave me the facts with many a chuckle as though he held it an excellent joke. But why are you here, Madame? Is not M. Cassion in the fort yonder?”
“’Tis a long tale, La Forest,” broke in De Artigny, laying his hand on the other’s shoulder, “and will bide a better time for telling. I am a soldier, and you may trust my word. We are La Salle’s men; let it go at that, for there is graver duty fronting us now than the retelling of camp gossip. Madame is my friend, and my hand will defend her reputation. Is that enough, comrade?”
“Ay, enough. My best regards, Madame,” and he bowed low before me, his words ringing true. “Whoever Sieur de la Salle has learned to trust hath my372faith also. You have come from the fort I take it, De Artigny? How are matters there?”
“Ill enough; the officers at swords’ points, and the men divided into three camps, for where De la Durantaye stands there is no evidence. M. Cassion holds command by virtue of La Barre’s commission, and knows no more of Indian war than a Quebec storekeeper. The garrison numbers fifty men all told; two-thirds soldiers, and a poor lot.”
“With ammunition, and food?”
“Ample to eat, so far as I know, but Boisrondet tells me with scarce a dozen rounds per man. The Iroquois are at the gates, and will attack at daylight.”
“You know this?”
“The signs are plain. We passed one party clambering up the cliff––no less than fifty warriors, naked and painted for war. Tuscaroras, Madame said from the words she overheard as they slipped past where we hid. ’Tis not likely they made reconnoissance alone. The fiends have been a week in this valley, and have swept all clear of our Indian allies; now they can bring their full force against the fort.”
“No doubt you are right.”
“’Twas my judgment, at least, and we sought help when we ran into you. What Indians have you?”
“Illini, mostly, with a handful of Miamis and Kickapoos. We met them at the crossing, hiding in373the hills. They were sadly demoralized, and filled with horror at what they had seen, yet agreed to return here under my leadership.”
“Who is their chief?”
“Old Sequitah––you know him?”
“Ay, a real warrior. ’Tis better than I dared hope, for I have been in battle with him before. Do you number a hundred?”
“And fifty more, though indifferently armed. Never have I seen the Illini in action, De Artigny; they seem to me a poor lot, so frightened of the wolves as to be valueless.”
“So they are if left to themselves, but under white leadership they stiffen. They will fight if given the Indian style. They will never stand in defense, but if we lead them to a surprise, they’ll give good account of themselves. That is my plan La Forest––that we creep up through the woods behind the Iroquois lines. They will expect no attack from the rear, and will have no guard. If we move quickly while it remains dark, we ought to get within a few yards of the red demons without discovery. They will fight desperately, no doubt, for their only hope of escape would be to either plunge down the rocky banks on either side, or cut a way through. You have been at the fort?”
“Twice before.”
374
“Then you know the nature of the ground. ’Tis all woodland until within a few hundred yards of the gates. You recall the great rock beside the trail?”
“Ay, and the view from the top.”
“My plan would be to creep up that far, with flanking parties on the slopes below. In front, as you may remember, there is an open space, then a fringe of forest hiding the clearing before the stockade. The Iroquois will be gathered behind that fringe of trees waiting daylight. Is my thought right?”
“’Tis the most likely spot.”
“Then listen; I have thought this all out. You and I, with Sequitah, will take a hundred of your Indians, cross the small river, and advance up the trail. That leaves fifty warriors to creep through the woods on either slope, twenty-five to a side, led by your twocouriers de bois. We will wait at the great rock, and give the signal.”
La Forest stood silent a moment, thinking; then rested his hand on De Artigny’s shoulder.
“It looks feasible enough, but the flanking parties may not reach their positions in time.”
“The one from the west will not have as far to travel as we do. The other does not make so much difference, for if the Iroquois break they will come in this direction––the other side of the trail is sheer rock.”
375
“True; and what about the lady?”
“I shall go with you, Messieurs,” I said quietly. “There will be no more danger there than here; besides you would not leave me alone without a guard, and you will need every fighting man.”
I felt the grip of Rene’s hand but it was La Forest’s voice that spoke.
“The right ring to that, hey, De Artigny! Madame answers my last argument. But first, let us have word with the chief.”
He addressed a word into the crowd of indistinguishable figures, and an Indian came forward. Dim as the light was I was impressed with the dignity of his carriage, the firm character of his facial outline.
“I am Sequitah, Chief of the Mascoutins,” he said gravely, “for whom the white chief sent.”
De Artigny stepped forth, standing as erect as the other.
“Sequitah is great chief,” he said quietly, “a warrior of many battles, the friend of La Salle. We have smoked the peace-pipe together, and walked side by side on the war-trail. Sequitah knows who speaks?”
“The French warrior they call De Artigny.”
“Right; ’tis not the first time you and I have met the Iroquois! The wolves are here again; they have burned the villages of the Illini, and killed your women and children. The valley is black with smoke, and red376with blood. What says the war chief of the Mascoutins––will his warriors fight? Will they strike with us a blow against the beasts?”
The chief swept his hand in wide circle.
“We are warriors; we have tasted blood. What are the white man’s words of wisdom?”
Briefly, in quick, ringing sentences, De Artigny outlined his plan. Sequitah listened motionless, his face unexpressive of emotion. Twice, confused by some French phrase, he asked grave questions, and once acourier de boisspoke up in his own tongue, to make the meaning clear. As De Artigny ceased the chief stood for a moment silent.
“We leap upon them from cover?” he asked calmly, “and the white men will sally forth to aid us?”
“’Tis so we expect––M. de Tonty is never averse to a fight.”
“I believe in the Iron Hand; but ’tis told me others command now. If they fail we are but few against many.”
“They will not fail, Sequitah; they are Frenchmen.”
The Indian folded his hands across his breast, his eyes on the two men facing him. There was silence, but for the slight rustle of moving bodies in the darkness.
“Sequitah hears the voice of his friend,” he announced377at last, “and his words sound wise. The warriors of the Illini will fight beside the white men.”
There was no time lost although I know but little of what occurred, being left alone there while La Forest and De Artigny divided the men, and arranged the plans of advance. The dense night shrouded much of this hasty preparation, for all I could perceive were flitting figures, or the black shadow of warriors being grouped together. I could hear voices, never loud, giving swift orders, or calling to this or that individual through the gloom.
A party tramped by me, and disappeared, twenty or more naked warriors, headed by a black-bearded Frenchman, bearing a long rifle––the detachment, no doubt, dispatched to guard the slope east of the trail, and hurried forth to cover the greater distance. Yet these could have scarcely advanced far through that jungle when the others were also in line, waiting the word.
The very silence in which all this was accomplished, the noiseless bodies, the almost breathless attention, scarcely enabled me to realize the true meaning of it all. These men were going into battle, into a death grapple. They meant to attack five times their own number. This was no boy’s play; it was war, savage, relentless war. The stern horror of it seemed to suddenly grip me as with icy fingers. Here was what I378had read of, dreamed of, being enacted before my very eyes. I was even a part of it, for I was going with them to the field of blood.
Yet how different everything was from those former pictures of imagination. There was no noise, no excitement, no shrinking––just those silent, motionless men standing in the positions assigned them, the dim light gleaming on their naked bodies, their ready weapons. I heard the voices of the white men, speaking quietly, giving last instructions as they passed along the lines. Sequitah took his place, not two yards from me, standing like a statue, his face stern and emotionless.
It was like a dream, rather than a reality. I was conscious of no thrill, no sense of fear. It was as though I viewed a picture in which I had no personal interest. Out of the darkness came De Artigny, pausing an instant before the chief.
“All is well, Sequitah?”
“Good––’tis as the white chief wishes.”
“Then we move at once; La Forest will guide the rear; you and I will march together. Give your warriors the word.”
He turned and took my hand.
“You will walk with me, dear one; you are not afraid?”
“Not of the peril of coming battle,” I answered.379“I––I think I hardly realize what that all means; but the risk you run. Rene! If––if you win, you will be a prisoner condemned to death.”
He laughed, and bent low, so I felt his lips brush my cheek.
“You do not understand, dear girl. A moment and I will explain––once we are beyond the stream. Now I must see that all move together.”
380CHAPTER XXXIVWE WAIT IN AMBUSH
We advanced through the woods down a slight incline, the Indians moving like so many phantoms. Not a branch rattled as they glided silently forward, not a leaf rustled beneath the soft tread of moccasined feet. De Artigny led me by the hand, aiding me to move quietly over the uneven ground, but made no effort to speak. Beside us, not unlike a shadow, strode the chief Sequitah, his stern face uplifted, shadowed by long black hair, a rifle gripped in his sinewy arms. We crossed the little river, De Artigny bearing me easily in his grasp, and, on the opposite shore, waited for the others to follow. They came, a long line of dark, shadowy forms, wading cautiously through the shallow water, and ranged themselves just below the bank, many still standing in the stream. What light there was flickered over naked bodies, and revealed savage eyes gleaming from out masses of black hair.
De Artigny stepped forward on the exposed root of a tree to where he could see his dusky followers, and La Forest climbed the bank, and joined him. A moment381the two men conferred, turning about to question Sequitah. As they separated I could distinguish De Artigny’s final words.
“Very well, then, if it is your wish I take command. Sequitah, a hundred warriors will follow you along the trail––you know it well. Have your best scouts in advance, and circle your braves so as to make attack impossible. Your scouts will not go beyond the great rock except on my order. M. la Forest will accompany them. This is clear?”
The Indian muttered response in his own tongue; then spoke more sharply, and the mass of warriors below changed formation, the greater number climbing the bank, and grouping themselves in the darker shadow of the woods.
“Who has charge of the others?” asked De Artigny.
“Bastian Courtray,” replied La Forest. “He is yonder.”
“Then Courtray, listen; you follow the stream, but do not venture from cover. Post your men below the stockade and wait to intercept fugitives. We will do the fighting above. Are the warriors with you armed?”
“All but ten have rifles, Monsieur, but I know not if they be of value.”
“You must make the best use of them you can.382Above all things be quiet, and do nothing to alarm the Iroquois. You may go.”
I leaned forward watching them as they waded down stream, and then climbed the bank, disappearing in the undergrowth. Sequitah had moved past me, and I heard his voice speaking in Indian dialect. Along the forest aisles his warriors glided by where I stood, noiselessly as shadows. In another moment De Artigny and I were alone, the black night all about us, and not a sound reaching our ears to tell of those vanished allies. He took my hand, a caress in his touch, a suggestion of pride in his voice.
“The old chief is warrior still,” he said, “and, unless all signs fail, the Iroquois will long remember this day. Come, Adele, ’twill not do for us to be far behind, and we have walked this trail before together.”
Had I not tested it with my own ears never would I have believed a hundred men could have made way so noiselessly in the dark, through such thick forest, rock strewn and deeply rutted. Yet not a sound of their stealthy passage was wafted back to us on the wind––no echo of voice, no rasping of foot, no rustle of leaves. Ghosts could not have moved more silently. Some way the very thought that these grim savages were thus creeping forward to attack, and kill, their hearts mad with hate, wild beasts of prey stalking their victims, yielded me a strange feeling of horror. I383clung to De Artigny’s arm, shrinking from the shadows, my mind filled with nameless fear.
“Adele,” he whispered, tenderly, “you still fear for me in this venture?”
“Yes, Monsieur.”
“There is no need. You heard La Forest say he bore orders of the King which gave De Tonty command once more of Fort St. Louis.”
“Yes, Monsieur; but you have already been tried and condemned. Even if they have not authority to shoot you here, they have power to transport to Quebec.”
“There would be battle first, if I know my old comrades well. No, as to that there is no cause to fear. I shall be given fair trial now, and welcome it. My fear has been for you––the vengeance of Cassion, if ever you came within his grasp again. But that also is settled.”
“Settled? What is it you would tell me?”
“This, sweetheart; you should know, although I would that some other might tell you. La Forest whispered it to me while we were alone yonder, for he knew not you were estranged from your husband. He bears with him the King’s order for the arrest of M. Cassion. Captain de Baugis is commissioned by La Barre to return him safely to Quebec for trial.”
“On what charge?”
384
“Treason to France; the giving of false testimony against a King’s officer, and the concealing of official records.”
“Mon Dieu!was it the case of my father?”
“Yes; the truth has been made clear. There is, as I understand from what La Forest told me, not sufficient evidence against La Barre to convict, yet ’tis believed the case will cost him his office. But M. Cassion was his agent, and is guilty beyond a doubt.”
“But, Monsieur, who made the charges? Who brought the matter to the attention of Louis?”
“The Comte de Frontenac; he was your father’s friend, and won him restoration of his property. Not until La Forest met him in France was he aware of the wrong done Captain la Chesnayne. Later he had converse with La Salle, a Franciscan once stationed at Montreal, and two officers of the regiment Carignan-Salliers. Armed with information thus gained he made appeal to Louis. ’Tis told me the King was so angry he signed the order of arrest with his own hand, and handed it to La Forest to execute.”
“The Governor knows?”
“Not yet. La Forest felt it best to keep the secret, fearing he might be detained, or possibly ambushed on the way hither.”
I cannot describe my feelings––joy, sorrow, memory of the past, overwhelming me. My eyes were wet385with tears, and I could find no words. De Artigny seemed to understand, yet he made no effort to speak, merely holding me close with his strong arm. So in silence, our minds upon the past and the future, we followed the savages through the black night along the dim trail. For the time I forgot where I was, my weird, ghastly surroundings, the purpose of our stealthy advance, and remembered only my father, and the scenes of childhood. He must have comprehended, for he made no attempt to interrupt my reverie, and his silence drew me closer––the steady pressure of his arm brought me peace.
Suddenly before us loomed the shadow of the great rock, which rose a mighty barrier across the trail, its crest outlined against the sky. The Indians had halted here, and we pressed forward through them, until we came to where the chief and La Forest waited. There was a growing tinge of light in the eastern sky, enabling us to perceive each other’s faces. All was tense, expectant, the Indians scarcely venturing to breathe, the two white men conversing in whispers. Sequitah stood motionless as a statue, his lips tightly closed.
“Your scouts ventured no further?” questioned De Artigny.
“No, ’twas not safe; one man scaled the rock, and reports the Iroquois just beyond.”