"By a hundred signs far plainer than print will ever be to my eyes. In faith, I thought those fellows out yonder would have summoned me to council long ere this, instead of threshing it out among themselves. They are bolder warriors than I deemed, though they will doubtless revolt in earnest when we camp. We shall have to guard them well to-night."
As he paused, his eyes fixed anxiously upon our Indian allies, De Croix began to hum a popular tune of the day, riding meanwhile, hat in hand, with one foot out of the stirrup to beat the time. Then Jordan caught up the refrain, and sang a verse. I saw one or two of the older Indians glance around at him in grave displeasure.
"The young fools!" muttered Wells, uneasily. "I shall enjoy seeing if that French popinjay keeps all of his fine airs when the hour for stern work comes."
He lifted his voice.
"Jordan!"
The young soldier instantly ceased his song, and turned in his saddle to glance back.
"The time has come when I must insist on less noise, and more decorum upon the march," Wells said sternly. "This is not Fort Wayne, nor is our road devoid of danger. Captain de Croix, I shall have to request you also to cease your singing for the present."
There was that in his voice and manner which forbade remark, and we rode on silently. I asked:
"But you have not explained to me how you learned all this of which you spoke?"
"By the use of my eyes, of course. It is all simple; there are marks beside the beaten trail, as well as in its track, which prove clearly the party ahead of us to be moving westward, that it travelled rapidly, and was certainly not less than a hundred strong, with ponies and lodge-poles. Not more than a league back we passed the evidences of a camp that had not been deserted longer than twelve hours; and when we crossed the river, a feather from a war-bonnet was lying in the grass. These are small details, yet they tell the story. That feather, for instance, was dropped from a Pottawattomie head-dress, and no doubt there are warriors among those Indians yonder who could name the chief who wore it. It simply means, my lad, that the savages are gathering in toward Dearborn, and we may reach there all too late."
"Is the way yet long?" and my eyes sought the horizon, where the sun hung like a red ball of fire.
"We should be there by the morrow," he answered, "for we are now rounding the head of the Great Lake. I wish to God I might see what fate awaits us there."
Young and thoughtless as I was in those days, I could not fail to realize the depth of feeling which swayed this stern, experienced man; and I rode on beside him, questioning no more.
I think it must be in the blood of all of New England birth to love the sea. They may never have seen it, nor even heard its wild, stern music; yet the fascination of great waters is part of their heritage. The thought of that vast inland ocean, of the magnitude and sublimity of which I had only the vaguest conception, haunted me all that afternoon; and I scarcely removed my eyes from those oddly constructed mounds of drifted sand, striving vainly to gain, through some depression between them, a fleeting glimpse of the restless waters that had helped to shape them into such fantastic forms.
As the sun sank, angry red in our faces, presaging a storm, the course of the little stream we had been following drew in closer toward these grotesque piles, and the trail we followed became narrower, with the sluggish current pressing upon one side and that odd bank of gleaming sand upon the other. In a little open space, where quite a carpet of coarse yellowish grass had found lodgment, beneath the protecting shadow of a knot of cottonwoods, we finally made camp, and proceeded to prepare our evening meal. Determined to strike north through those guarding sand-dunes, and reach the shore of the lake if possible before final darkness fell, I hastily crowded my pockets with food, and looked eagerly around for some congenial companion. Captain Wells, whom I should have preferred to be with me, was deep in conference with one of the Miami chiefs, and not to be disturbed; Jordan had seemingly been detailed to the command of the night-guard; so, as a last resort, I turned aside and sought De Croix. I found him seated cross-legged on a blanket beneath one of the cottonwoods, a silver-backed mirror propped against a tree-butt in his front, while the obsequious darkey was deliberately combing out his long hair and fashioning it anew. The Frenchman glanced up at me with a welcoming smile of rare good-humor.
"Ah, sober-face! and have you at last mustered courage to break away from the commander of this most notable company?" he cried mockingly. "'T is passing strange he does not chain you to his saddle! By Saint Guise! 'twould indeed be the only way in which so dull a cavalier would ever hold me loyal to his whims. Friend Wayland, I scarce thought you would ever thus honor me again; and yet, 't is true, I have had an ambition within my heart ever since we first met. 'T is to cause you to fling aside those rough habiliments of the wilderness, and attire yourself in garments more becoming civilized man. Would that I might induce you, even now, to permit Sam to rearrange those heavy blond locksà la Pompadour. Bless me! but it would make a new man of you."
"Such is not at all my desire, Monsieur," I answered, civilly. "I came now merely to learn if you would walk with me through these dunes of sand before the daylight fades."
He looked out, idly enough, across that dreary expanse of desolation, and shrugged his shoulders.
"Use the other powder, Sam, the lighter colored," he murmured languidly, as if the sight had wearied him; "and mind you drop not so much as a pinch upon the waistcoat."
Then he lifted his eyes inquiringly to mine.
"For what?" he asked.
"To look forth upon the Great Lake. Captain Wells tells me 't is but a brief and safe walk from here to the shore-line."
"The lake?—water?" and the expression upon his face made me smile. "Mon Dieu, man! have you become crazed by the hard march? What have I ever said in our brief intercourse that could cause you to conceive I care greatly for that? If it were only wine, now!"
"You have no desire to go with me, then?"
"Lay out the red tie, Sam; no, the one with the white spots in it, and the small curling-iron. No, Monsieur; what you ask is impossible. I travel to the west for higher purpose than to gaze upon a heaving waste of water.Sacre! did I not have a full hundred days of such pleasure when first I left France? My poor stomach has not fairly settled yet from its fierce churning. Know ye not, Master Wayland, that we hope to be at this Fort Dearborn upon the morrow, and 't is there I meet again the fair Toinette? Saints! but I must look my best at such a time, not worn and haggard from tramping through the sand. She was ever a most critical maid in such matters, and has not likely changed. 'T is curled too high upon the right brow, you black imp! and, as I live, there is one hair you have missed entirely."
Realizing the uselessness of waiting longer, I turned my back upon his vanity, and strode off alone. It is not my nature to swerve from a purpose merely because others differ in desires; and I was now determined to carry out my plan. I took one of the narrow depressions between two mounds of sand and plunged resolutely forward, endeavoring to shape my course as directly northward as the peculiarities of the path would admit. To my mind, there was little to fear from the hostile Indians, as every sign proved them to be hastening westward in advance of us; while I was too long accustomed to adventure to be easily confused, even in the midst of that lonely desolation.
I soon found the walking difficult; for I sank to the ankles with each step, while the soft sliding sand rolled beneath me so as to yield no solid foothold. The irregularity of the mounds continually blocked my passage, and caused me to deviate in direction, so that I grew somewhat bewildered, the entire surface bearing such uniformity of outline as to afford little guide. Yet I held to my original course fairly well, for I could pilot somewhat by the dim north star; and it was not long before my alert ears caught the pounding of surf along the shore-line. Much encouraged, I pressed forward with greater rapidity, ignoring the lanes between the dunes, and clambering over the mounds themselves in my eagerness to reach the lake before the complete closing down of night.
At last I topped a particularly high ridge that felt solid to the feet; and as I did so the wind came, hard and biting, against my face. There, just below me, not fifty feet away, were rolling the great waves, white-capped and roaring, pounding like vast sledges upon the anvil of the sand. My entire being thrilled at the majestic sight, and for the moment I forgot everything as I gazed away across those restless, heaving waters, seemingly without limit, stretching forth into the dim northward as far as the eye could reach, until water and sky imperceptibly met and blended. Each advancing wave, racing toward the beach, was a white-lipped messenger of mystery; and the vast tumultuous sea, rolling in toward me out of that dark unknown, with its deep voice of thunder and high-bursting spray, breathed the sublimest lessons of the Infinite to my soul. It awed, impressed, silenced with the sense of its solemn power. No dream of ocean grandeur had ever approached the reality now outspread before me, as this vast inland sea tossed and quivered to the lashing of the storm-wind that swept its surface into fury.
To the left and right of where I stood motionless, curved the shore-line, a seemingly endless succession of white shining sand-hills, with the sloping shingle up which the huge breakers tossed and rolled in continuous thunder and foam, rising, breaking, receding, chasing each other in gigantic play. How savagely strong it all looked! what uncontrollable majesty lived in every line of the scene! The very suggestion of tremendous power in it was, to my imagination, immeasurably increased by its unutterable loneliness, its seemingly total absence of life; for not a fin rose above the surface, not a wing brushed the air overhead. The sun, sinking slowly behind the rim of sand, shot one golden-red ray far out into that tumbling waste, forming a slender bridge of ever-changing light that seemed to rest suspended upon the breaking crests of the waves it spanned. Then, gradually, stealthily, silently, the denser curtain of the twilight drew closer and closer, and my vista narrowed, as the shadows swept toward me like black-robed ghosts.
I turned about reluctantly, to retrace my steps while the dim light yet lingered. Some unseen angel of mercy it must have been that bade me pause, and led me gently down the steep bank to the waters edge, where the sharp spray lashed my cheeks. If this be not the cause, then I know not why I went; or why, once being there, I should have turned to the right, and rounded the edge of the little bay. Yet all of this I did; and God knows that many a time since I have thanked Him for it upon my knees.
I saw first the thing bobbing up and down behind a bare wave-washed rock that lifted a hoary crown close beside the water's edge. A branch from off some tree, I thought, until I had taken a half-dozen curious steps nearer, and felt my heart bound as I knew it to be a boat. My first thought, of course, was of hostile Indians; and I swept the sand-hills anxiously for any other sign of human presence. The world about me was soundless except for the ceaseless roaring of the waves, and there was not even a leaf within my sight to flutter. I crept forward cautiously, seeing no footprints on the smooth sand, until my searching eyes rested upon a white hand, dangling, as if lifeless, over the boat's gunwale. Forgetting everything else in the excitement of this discovery, I sprang hastily forward and peered within the boat.
It was an awkward and rudely-formed water-craft, with neither mast nor oars, yet of fair size, broad-beamed and seaworthy. In the forward part lay the body of a woman; curled up and resting upon the boat's bottom, the head buried upon the broad seat so that no face was visible, with one hand hidden beneath, the other outstretched above the rail. So huddled was her posture that I could distinguish few details in the fading light; yet I noted that she wore a white upper garment, and that her thick hair flowed in a dense black mass about her shoulders.
For a moment I stood there helpless, believing I gazed upon death. She either moved slightly, or the waves rocked the boat so as to somewhat disturb her posture. That semblance of life sent my blood leaping once more within my veins, and I leaned over and touched her cautiously.
"Oh, go away! Please go away!" she cried, not loudly, but with a stress of utterance that caused me to start back half in terror. "I am not afraid of you, but either take my soul or go away and leave me."
"For whom do you mistake me?" I asked, my hand closing now over hers.
"For another devil come out of the black night to torture me afresh!" she answered, never once moving even to my touch. "Ah, what legions there must be to send forth so many after the soul of one poor girl! 'T is not that I shrink from the end. Death! why, have I not died a hundred deaths already? Yet do I trust the Christ and Mother Mary. But why does the angel of their mercy hold back from me so long?"
Was she crazed, driven mad by some extremity of suffering at which I could only guess? That oarless boat, beached amid the desolation of sand and the waste of water, alone told a story to make the heart sick. I hesitated, not knowing what I had best say. She lifted her head slowly, and gazed at me. I caught one glimpse of a pale young face framed in masses of black dishevelled hair, and saw large dark eyes that seemed to glow with a strange fire.
"You,—you cannot be a devil also," she said, stammeringly. "You do not look like those others,—are you a man?"
I bowed in silence, astounded by her words and appearance.
"Yet you are not of the garrison,—not of Dearborn. I have never seen your face before. Yet you are surely a man, and white. Holy Mother! can it indeed be that you have come to save me?"
"I am here to serve you by every means in my power," I answered soberly, for the wildness of her speech almost frightened me. "God, I truly think, must have led me to you."
Her wonderful eyes, questioning, anxious, doubtful, never once left my face.
"Who are you? How came you here?"
"I am named John Wayland," I replied, striving to speak as simply as might be, so that she would comprehend, "and form one of a small party travelling overland from the east toward the Fort. We are encamped yonder at the edge of the sand. I left the camp an hour ago, and wandered hither that I might look out upon the waters of the Great Lake; and here, through the strange providence of God, I have found you."
She glanced apprehensively backward over her shoulder across the darkened waters, and her slight form shook.
"Oh, please, take me away from it!" she cried, a note of undisguised terror in her voice, and her hands held out toward me in a pitiful gesture of appeal. "Oh, that horrible, cruel water! I have loved it in the past, but now I hate it; how horribly it has tortured me! Take me away, I beg,—anywhere, so that I can neither see nor hear it any more. It has neither heart nor soul." And she hid her face behind the streaming hair.
"You will trust me, then?" I asked, for I had little knowledge of women. "You will go with me?"
She flung the clinging locks back from her eyes, with an odd, imperious gesture which I thought most becoming, holding them in place with one hand, while extending the other frankly toward me.
"Go with you? Yes," she replied, unhesitatingly. "I have known many men such as you are, men of the border, and have always felt free to trust them; they are far more true to helpless womanhood than many a perfumed cavalier. You have a face that speaks of honor and manliness. Yes, I will go with you gladly."
I was deeply impressed by her sudden calmness, her rapid repression of that strange wildness of demeanor that had at first so marked her words and manner. As I partially lifted her from the boat to the sand, she staggered heavily, and would have fallen had I not instantly caught her to me. For a single moment her dark eyes looked up confidingly into mine, as she rested panting against my shoulder, and I could feel her slender form tremble within my arms.
"You are ill—faint?" I questioned anxiously.
She drew back from me with all gentleness, and did not venture again to attempt standing entirely without support.
"I am ashamed so to exhibit my weakness," she murmured. "I fear I am greatly in need of food. What day is this?"
"The twelfth of August."
"And it was the night of the tenth when I drifted out of the mouth of the river. Ever since then I have been drifting, the sport of the winds and waves."
"Sit you down here, then," I commanded, now fully awakened to her immediate need. "The sand is yet warm from the sun, and I have food with me in my pockets."
I have since thought it almost providential that my food supply was so limited; for, after first asking me if I had eaten all I required, she fell upon it like a famished thing, and did not desist until all was gone. A threatening bank of dark cloud was creeping slowly up the northern sky as we were resting, but directly overhead the stars were shining brilliantly, yielding me sufficient light for the study of her face. She was certainly less than my own age by two or three years, a girl barely rounding into the slender beauty of her earliest womanhood, with hints of both in face and form. She was simply dressed, as, indeed, might naturally be expected in a wilderness far removed from marts of trade; but her clothing was of excellent texture, and became her well in spite of its recent exposure, while a bit of rather expensive lace at the throat and a flutter of gay ribbons about the wrists told plainly that she did not disdain the usual adornments of her sex. And this was quickly shown in another way. She had not yet completed her frugal meal when her mind reverted to her personal appearance, and she paused, with heightened color, to draw back her loosened hair and fasten it in place with a knot of scarlet cord. It was surely a winsome face that smiled up at me then.
"I feel almost guilty of robbery," she said, "in taking all this food, which was no doubt intended for your own supper."
"Merely what chanced to be left of it," I answered heartily. "Had I so much as dreamed this stretch of sand was to yield me such companionship, I should have stinted myself more."
An expression of bewildered surprise crept into her eyes as I spoke.
"Surely you are not a merecoureur de bois, as I supposed from your dress," she exclaimed. "Your expression is that of an educated gentleman."
I smiled; for I was young enough to feel the force of her unconscious flattery.
"I believe I can prove descent from an old and honorable race," I said; "but it has been my fortune to be reared in the backwoods, and whatever education has come to me I owe to the love and skill of my mother."
My frankness pleased her, and she made no attempt to disguise her interest.
"I am so glad you told me," she said simply. "My mother died when I was only ten, yet her memory has always been an inspiration. Are you a Protestant?"
This unexpected question took me by surprise; yet I answered unhesitatingly, "Yes."
"I was educated at the Ursuline Convent in Montreal. It was my mother's dearest wish that I should take the vows of that order, but I fear I am far too frivolous for so serious a life. I love happy things too well, and the beautiful outside world of men and women. I ran away from the Sisters, and then my father and I voyaged to this country, where we might lead a freer life together."
"Here?" and I glanced questioningly about me into those darkening shadows which were momentarily hemming us in more closely.
"To Fort Dearborn," she explained. "We came by boat through the straits at the north; and 'twas a trip to remember. My father brought out goods from Canada, and traded with the Indians. I have been in their villages. Once I was a week alone with a tribe of Sacs near Green Bay, and they called me the White Queen. I have met many famous warriors of the Wyandots and Pottawattomies, and have seen them dance at their council. Once I journeyed as far west as the Great River, across leagues and leagues of prairie," and her face lighted up at the remembrance. "Father said he thought I must be the first white woman who had ever travelled so far inland. We have been at Dearborn for nearly a year."
She rose to her feet, and swept her eyes, with some anxiety, around upon dim mounds of sand that appeared more fantastic than ever in the darkness.
"Had we not better be going?" she asked. "There is surely a storm gathering yonder."
"Yes," I answered, for I had not been indifferent to the clouds steadily banking up in the north. "Yet you have not told me your name, and I should be most glad to know it."
The girl courtesied mockingly, as though half inclined to laugh at my insistence.
"What is a name?" she exclaimed. "'Tis not that for which we greatly care. Now I—I am simply Mademoiselle Antoinette,—at least, so most of those I care for call me; and from now on, the very good friend of Master John Wayland."
I was deeply conscious that I blushed at her words and manner; but with it there arose an instant query in my mind: could this be the fair Toinette whom De Croix sought so ardently? I greatly feared it; yet I resolved I would not mention his name to her.
"It has a decided French sound," I stammered.
She laughed at my tone, with a quick shrug of her shoulders.
"And pray, why not, Monsieur? Have you such a prejudice against that great people that you need speak of them with so glum a voice? Ah, but if I must, then I shall endeavor to teach you a higher regard for us."
"That may not prove so hard a task," I hastened to assure her; "though I was surprised,—you speak English with so pure an accent that I had not dreamed you other than of my own race."
"My father was of English blood," she answered more gravely; "but I fear you will find me quite of my mother's people, if ever we come to know each other well. But hark! that was surely thunder! We have loitered too long; the storm is about to break."
It was indeed upon us almost before she ceased speaking. A sudden rush of wind sent my hat flying into the darkness, and whipped her long black hair loose from its restraining knot. I had barely time to wrap my hunting-jacket closely around her shoulders, when the rain came dashing against our faces.
I drew her unresistingly around the edge of the nearest sand-pile; but this supplied poor protection against the storm, the wind lashing the fine grit into our faces, stinging us like bits of fire. I tried to excavate some sort of cave that might afford us at least a partial shelter; but the sand slid down almost as rapidly as I could dig it out with my hands.
"Oh, let us press on!" she urged, laying her hand upon my arm, in entreaty. "We shall become no wetter moving, and your camp, you said, was only a short distance away."
"But are you strong enough to walk?" And as I leaned forward toward her, a quick flash of vivid lightning, directly overhead, lit both our faces. I marked she did not shrink, and no look of fear came into her eyes.
"I am quite myself once more," she answered confidently. "It was despair and loneliness that so disheartened me. I have never been timid physically, and your presence has brought back the courage I needed."
There was a natural frankness, a peculiar confidence, about this girl, that robbed me of my usual diffidence; and as we struggled forward through the dampening sand, her dress clinging about her and retarding progress, I dared to slip one arm about her waist to help in bearing her along. She accepted this timely aid in the spirit with which it was offered, without so much as a word of protest; and the wind, battering at our backs, pushed us forward.
"Oh, that troublesome hair!" she exclaimed, as the long tresses whipped in front of our faces, blinding us both. "I have never before felt so much like sacrificing it."
"I beg that you will not consider such an act now," I protested, aiding her to reclaim the truants, "for as I saw it before the darkness fell, your hair was surely worthy of preservation."
"You laugh at me; I know I must have been a far from pretty sight."
"Do you wish me to say with frankness what I thought of your appearance under such disadvantages?"
She glanced at me almost archly, in the flash of lightning that rent the sky.
"I am really afraid to answer yes,—yet perhaps I am brave enough to venture it."
"I have never been at court, Mademoiselle, and so you may not consider my judgment in such matters of much moment; but I thought you rarely beautiful."
For a moment she did not attempt to speak, but I could distinctly feel the heaving of her bosom as I held her hard against the assault of the wind, and bent low hoping to catch an answer.
"You are sincere and honest," she said at last, slowly, and I felt that the faint trace of mockery had utterly vanished from her soft voice. "'T is manifest in your face and words. You speak not lightly, nor with mere empty compliment, as would some gilded courtiers I have known; and for that reason I do value your opinion."
"You are not angry at my presumption?"
"Angry?—I?" and she stopped and faced me, holding back her hair as she did so. "I am a woman, Monsieur; and all women, even those of us hidden here in the wilderness, like best those who admire them. I do not know that I am as beautiful as you say, yet other men have often said the same without being pressed for their opinion. No, I am not angry,—I am even glad to know you think so."
"And you surely do know?" I insisted, with a courage strange to me.
"Yes," she answered, but her eyes fell before my eagerness; "you are not one who has yet learned to lie, even to women. 'T is a relief to know there are such men still in the world."
We had come to a full halt by this time.
"Do you have any idea where we may be?" she asked, peering anxiously about, and perhaps glad to change the tone of our conversation. "I cannot note a landmark of any kind. These sand-hills seem all alike."
"I believe we have kept to the southward, for we have merely drifted with the storm; but I confess my sole guidance has been the direction of the wind, as these sand-lanes are most confusing. If there were the slightest shelter at hand, I should insist upon your waiting until the rain was over."
"No, it is better to go on. I am now wet to the skin, and shall be warmer moving than resting on this damp sand."
We must have been moving for an hour, scarcely speaking a word, for the severe exertion required all our breath. The rain had ceased, and stars began to glimmer amid the cloud-rifts overhead; but I knew now that we were lost. She stopped suddenly, and sank down upon the sand.
"I am exhausted," she admitted, "and believe we are merely moving about in a circle."
"Yes," I said, reluctantly; "we are wasting our strength to no purpose.'T will be better to wait for daylight here."
It was a gloomy place, and the silence of those vast expanses of desolate sand was overwhelming. It oppressed me strangely.
"Let me feel the touch of your hand," she said once. "It is so desperately lonely. I have been on the wide prairie, at night and alone; yet there is always some sound there upon which the mind may rest. Here the stillness is like a weight."
Possibly I felt this depressing influence the more because of my long forest training, where at least the moaning of limbs, fluttering of leaves, or flitting of birds brings relief to the expectant senses; while here all was absolute solitude, so profound that our breathing itself was startling. The air above appeared empty and void; the earth beneath, lifeless and dead. Although neither of us was cowardly of heart, yet we instinctively drew closer together, and our eyes strained anxiously over the black sand-ridges, now barely discernible through the dense gloom. We tried to talk, but even that soon grew to be a struggle, so heavily did the suspense rest upon our spirits, so oppressed were we by imaginings of evil. I remember telling her my simple story, gaining in return brief glimpses of her experiences in Canada and the farther West. She even informed me that orders had been received, the day before she became lost upon the lake, to abandon Fort Dearborn; that an Indian runner—whom she named Winnemeg—had arrived from General Hull at Detroit, bringing also news that Mackinac had fallen.
"Doubtless your absence has greatly worried them also," I said.
"Oh, no; none of them knew my plight. Possibly some may miss me, but they will naturally suppose I have been at Mr. Kinzie's house all this time. I have been there often for weeks together, and they have frequently urged me to take shelter with them. You see it is far safer there than at the Fort, for even the most hostile Indians remain on friendly terms with Mr. Kinzie and his family. He has been there so many years, and is so just a man in his dealings with them. 'T is really strange to see how he leaves his house unguarded, while the garrison at the Fort is almost in a state of siege. It makes it hard to realize how imminent is the danger. Yet they are terribly alarmed at the Fort, and I fear with cause. Even Mr. Kinzie feels the situation to be critical. There were fully three hundred Pottawattomie warriors encamped without the Fort two days ago; and they were becoming bold and impudent,—one chief even firing his gun in Captain Heald's office, thinking to frighten him into furnishing them with liquor."
"But the Fort is strong?" I asked. "It is capable of resisting an attack?"
"I should suppose so," she answered, hesitatingly; "but that is not a matter upon which a girl may judge. I fear, however, all is not harmony among its defenders. I know that Captain Heald and Ensign Ronan do not agree, and I have heard bitter words spoken by other officers of the garrison."
I thought she did not care to speak more about this matter, and we drifted off upon other topics, until I felt her head sink slowly down upon my shoulder, and knew she slept. I sat there still, pillowing her tenderly upon my arm, when the gray light of the dawn stole slowly toward us across the ridges of sand and revealed the upturned face.
The emotion I felt was new and strange to me; for though I had known little of young women, yet as I looked upon her in that dim light of dawn I found myself wondering if I already loved this strange girl. Fair as her face certainly was, its beauty rendered even more striking by the pallor of her late exposure and the blackness of her dishevelled hair, it was her frankness and confidence which most appealed to me. She had held all my thoughts through the long hours of watchfulness as I sat there quietly, feeling the rise and fall of her regular breathing, and thrilled by the unconscious caress of stray tresses as they were blown against my cheek. How she trusted me, stranger though I was! Yet it was through no lack of knowledge of the great world of men, for this young girl had known court gallants and rough soldiery, soft-spoken courtiers and boastful men-at-arms. So the night through I dreamed of what might be; and when the light finally came slowly reddening the eastern sky, I feasted my eyes unchecked upon that sweet upturned face, and made a rash vow that I would win her heart.
I was still mirroring her image in my memory, forgetful of all else,—the broad white brow, the long dark lashes resting in such delicate tracery against the smooth velvet of the cheek now slightly flushed, the witching pink of the ear, the softly parted lips between which gleamed the small and regular teeth of ivory, the round white throat swelling ever so slightly to her breathing,—when a sudden shout of surprised recognition aroused me from my reverie, and I looked up to see Jordan topping the sand-bank in our front, and waving his hand to some one beneath him and out of sight.
"See here, De Croix!" he cried, excitedly, "the prodigal has had good cause to lag behind. He has found the lost fairy of this wilderness."
Before I could relieve myself of my burden,—for the mockery of his words angered me,—the Frenchman appeared at his side, and glanced down where his companion's finger pointed. For a moment he gazed; then he murmured a sharp French oath, and strode heavily down the sand-bank. There was a look in his face that caused me to lay the girl's head back upon the sand and rise hastily. The sudden movement awoke her, and her dark eyes looked up in startled confusion. By this time I had taken a quick step forward, and faced De Croix.
"This lady is under my protection," I said, a bit hotly, not relishing the manner of his approach, "and any disrespect from either of you will be unwarranted."
He paused, evidently surprised at my bold front, and his lip curled contemptuously.
"Ah, my young game-cock!" he ejaculated, surveying me curiously. "So you have spurs, and think you can use them? Well, I have no quarrel with you, but perchance I may have more reason to be the protector of this young lady than you suppose. Stand aside, Monsieur."
She had risen from the sand, and now stood erect beside me. I saw Jordan grinning in great enjoyment of the scene, and that De Croix's eyes were full of anger; but I would not stir. In my heart I felt a dull pain at his words, a fear that they might prove too true; but I remained where I was, determined to take no step aside until she herself should judge between us.
"Will you stand back, Monsieur?" he said, haughtily, dropping his hand upon the hilt of his rapier, "or shall I show you how a gentleman of France deals with such impertinence?"
If he thought to affright me with his bravado, he reckoned ill of my nature, for I have ever driven badly; my blood seems slow to heat, though it was warm enough now.
"If the lady wishes it, you may pass," I answered shortly, my eyes never leaving his face. "Otherwise, if you take so much as another step I will crush every bone in your body."
He saw I meant it, but there was no cowardice in him; and the steel had already flashed in the sunlight to make good his threat, when she touched me gently upon the shoulder.
"I beg you do not fight," she urged. "I am not worthy, and 't is all unneeded. Captain de Croix," and she swept him a curtsey which had the grace of a drawing-room in it, "'t is indeed most strange that we should meet again in such a spot as this. No contrast could be greater than the memory of our last parting. Yet is there any cause for quarrel because this young gentleman has preserved my life?"
De Croix hesitated, standing half-poised for attack, even his glib tongue and ready wit failing as she thus calmly questioned him. Indeed, as I later learned, there was that of witchery about this young girl which held him at bay more effectually than if she had been a princess of the royal blood,—a something that laughed his studied art to scorn. She noted now his hesitancy, and smiled slightly at the evidence of her power.
"Well, Monsieur, 'tis not often that your lips fail of words," she continued, archly. "Why is it I am made the subject of your quarrel?"
The slight sarcastic sting in her voice aroused him.
"By all the saints, Toinette!" he exclaimed, striving to appear at his ease, "this seems a poor greeting for one who has followed you through leagues of forest and across oceans of sand, hopeful at the least to gain a smile of welcome from your lips. Know you not I am here, at the very end of the world, for you?"
"I think it not altogether unlikely," she replied with calmness. "You have ever been of a nature to do strange things, yet it has always been of your own sweet will. Surely, Monsieur, I did never bid you come, or promise you a greeting."
"No," he admitted regretfully, "'t is, alas, true,"; and his eyes seemed to regain something of their old audacity. "But there was that about our parting,—you recall it, Toinette, in the shadow of the castle wall?—which did afford me hope. No one so fair as you can be without heart."
She laughed softly, as though his words recalled memories of other days, pressing back her hair within its ribbon.
"Such art of compliment seems more in place at Montreal than here. This is a land of deeds, not words, Monsieur. Yet, even though I confess your conclusion partially true, what cause does it yield why you should seek a quarrel with my good friend, John Wayland?"
"You know him, then?" he asked, in quick astonishment.
"Know him! Do you think I should be here otherwise? Fie, Captain de Croix, that you, the very flower of the French court, should express so poor a thought of one you profess to respect so highly!"
He looked from one to the other of us, scarce knowing whether she were laughing at him or not.
"Sacre!" he exclaimed at last. "I believe it not, Mademoiselle. The boy would have boasted of such an acquaintance long before this. You know him, you say,—for how long?"
"Since yester even, if you must know. But he has a face, Monsieur, a face frank and honest, not like that of a man long trained at courts to deceive. 'T is for that I trust him, and have called him friend."
"You may rue the day."
"No, Captain de Croix," she exclaimed, proudly. "I know the frontiersmen of my father's blood. They are brave men, and true of heart. This John Wayland is of that race." And she rested one hand lightly upon my arm.
The motion, simple as it was, angered him.
"You ask why I sought quarrel," he said sternly. "'T was because I suspected this uncouth hunter had wronged you. Now I understand 't was of your own choice. I wish you joy, Mademoiselle, of your new conquest."
I felt the girl's slight form straighten, and saw his bold eyes sink beneath the flame of her look.
"Captain de Croix," and every sentence stung like the lash of a whip, "those are cowardly words, unworthy a French gentleman and soldier. Did you leave all your courtesy behind in Montreal, or dream that in this wilderness I should cringe to any words you might speak? You wish the truth; you shall have it. Three days ago, through an accident, I drifted, in an oarless boat, out from the river-mouth at Fort Dearborn to the open lake. None knew of my predicament. A storm blew me helpless to the southward, and after hours of exposure to danger, and great mental anguish, I was driven ashore amid the desolation of this sand. This comrade of yours found me scarce alive, ministered to my sore need, protected me through the hours of the night, stood but now between me and your ribaldry, counting his life but little beside the reputation of a woman. He may not wear the latest Paris fashions, Monsieur, but he has proved himself a man."
"I meant not all I said, Toinette," he hastened to explain. "You will forgive, I know, for I was sorely hurt to find that some one else had done the duty that was plainly mine. Surely no rude backwoodsman is to come between us now?"
She glanced from the one to the other, with true French coquetry.
"Faith, I cannot tell, Monsieur," she said, gayly; "stranger things have happened, and 't is not altogether fine clothes that win the hearts of maidens on this far frontier. We learn soon to love strength, and the manly traits of the border. On my word, Monsieur, this John Wayland seems to have rare powers of body; I imagine he might even have crushed you, as he said."
"Think you so?" he asked, eying me curiously. "Yet 't is not always as it looks, Mademoiselle."
It came so quickly as to startle me. I was wondering at the smile that curled his lips, when he sprang upon me, casting his arms around my waist, and twining one leg about mine. The shock of this sudden and unexpected onset took me completely by surprise, and I gave back sharply, scarce realizing his purpose, till he had the under-hold, and sought to lift me for a throw. 'T was my weight alone that saved me, together with the rare good fortune that I had been leaning upon my gun.
As the breath came back to me, we locked grimly in a fierce struggle for the mastery. I had felt the straining grip of strong arms before, but De Croix surprised me,—he was like steel, quick of motion as a wildcat, with many a cunning French wrestling trick that tried me sorely. I heard a quick exclamation of surprise from the girl, a shout of delighted approval from Jordan, and then there was no sound but the harsh trampling of our feet and the heavy breathing. De Croix's effort was to lift me to his hip for a throw; mine, to press him backward by bodily strength. Both of us were sadly hindered by the sliding sand on which we strove. Twice I thought I had him, when my footing failed; and once he held me fairly uplifted from the ground, yet could not make the toss. 'T was a wild grapple, for when we had exhausted all the tricks we knew, it came to be a sheer test of physical endurance. Then, for the first time, I felt myself the master,—though he was a man, that gay French dandy, and never did my ribs crack under the pressure of a stronger hand. But I slowly pressed him back, inch by inch, struggling like a demon to the last, until I forced his shoulders to the sand.
For a moment he lay there, panting heavily; then the old frank and easy smile came upon his lips.
"Your hand, monsieur," he said; "that is, if it yet retains sufficient strength to lift me."
Upon his feet he brushed the sand from out his long hair, and bowed gallantly.
"I have done my very best, Mademoiselle. 'Tis defeat, but not disgrace, for I have made your giant puff to win. May I not hope it has won me restoration to your good graces?"
It would have been impossible not to respond to his humor and good-nature, even had the girl been desirous of doing otherwise. From the first I felt that she liked this reckless courtier, whose easy words and actions made me realize more deeply than ever my own heaviness of thought and wit.
As he stood there now, bowing low before her, his clothing awry and his long hair in disorder from our fierce contest, she smiled upon him graciously, and extended a hand that he was prompt enough to accept and hold.
"Surely," she said mockingly, "no maid, even in the glorious days of chivalry, had ever more heroic figures to do battle for her honor. I accept theamende, Monsieur, and henceforth enroll you as knight at my court. Upon my word," and she looked about at the desolate sand-heaps surrounding us, "'tis not much to boast of here; nor, in truth, is Dearborn greatly better."
She paused, drawing her hand gently from his grasp, and holding it out toward me.
"Yet, Captain," she continued, glancing at him archly over her shoulder, "I have likewise another knight, this wood ranger, who hath also won my deep regard and gratitude."
De Croix scowled, and twisted his short mustache nervously.
"You put a thorn beside every rose," he muttered. "'T was your way inMontreal."
"A few hundred miles of travel do not greatly change one's nature. Either at Dearborn or Montreal, I am still Toinette. But, Messieurs, I have been told of a camp quite close at hand,—and yet you leave me here in the sand to famish while you quarrel."
The tone of her voice, while still full of coquetry, was urgent, and I think we both noted for the first time how white of face she was, and how wearily her eyes shone. The Frenchman, ever ready in such courtesies, was the first to respond by word and act.
"You are faint, Toinette," he cried, instantly forgetful of everything else, and springing forward to give her the aid of his arm. "I beg you lean upon me. I have been blind not to note your weakness before. 'T is indeed not a long walk to our camp from here,—yet, on my life, I know nothing of where it lies. Jordan," he added, speaking as if he were in command, "lead back along the path we came.Sacre! the old bear was gruff enough over the delay of our search; he will be savage now."
I know not how Jordan ever found his way back, for the sliding sand had already obliterated all evidences of former travel; but I walked sullenly beside him, leaving De Croix to minister to the needs of the girl as best he might. I felt so dull beside his ready tongue that, in spite of my real liking for the fellow, his presence angered me. 'T is strange we should ever envy in others what we do not ourselves possess, ignoring those traits of character we have which they no less desire. So to me then it seemed altogether useless to contend for the heart of a woman,—such a woman, at least, as this laughing Toinette,—against the practised wiles of so gay and debonair a cavalier. I steeled my ears to the light badinage they continued to indulge in, and ploughed on through the heavy sand at Jordan's heels, in no mood for converse with any one.
We came upon the camp suddenly, and discovered Captain Wells pacing back and forth, his stern face dark with annoyance. At sight of me, his passion burst all restraint.
"By God, sir!" he ejaculated, "if you were a soldier of mine, I would teach you what it meant to put us to such a wait as this! Know you not, Master Wayland, that the lives of helpless women and children may depend upon our haste? And you hold us here in idleness while you wander along the lake-shore like a moonstruck boy!"
Before I could answer these harsh words, the girl stepped lightly to my side, and standing there, her hand upon my arm, smiled back into his angry eyes. I do not think he had even perceived her presence until that moment; for he stopped perplexed.
"And am I not worth the saving, Monsieur le Capitaine," she questioned, pouting her lips, "that you should blame him so harshly for having stopped to rescue me?"
His harsh glance of angry resentment softened as he gazed upon her.
"Ah! was that it, then?" he asked, in gentler tones. "But who are you?Surely you are not unattended in this wilderness?"
"I am from Fort Dearborn," she answered, "and though only a girl,Monsieur, I have penetrated to the great West even farther than hasCaptain Wells."
"How know you my name?"
"Mrs. Heald told me she believed you would surely come when you learned of our plight at the Fort,—it was for that she despatched the man Burns with the message,—and she described you so perfectly that I knew at once who you must be. There are not so many white men travelling toward Dearborn now as to make mistake easy."
"And the Fort?" he asked, anxiously. "Is it still garrisoned, or have we come too late?"
"It was safely held two days ago," she answered, "although hundreds of savages in war-paint were then encamped without, and holding powwow before the gate. No attack had then been made, yet the officers talked among themselves of evacuating."
For a moment the stern soldier seemed to have forgotten her, his eyes fastened upon the western horizon.
"The fools!" he muttered to himself, seemingly unconscious that he spoke aloud; "yet if I can but reach there in time, my knowledge of Indian nature may accomplish much."
He turned quickly, with a sharp glance over his military force.
"We delay no longer. Jordan, do you give this lady your horse for to-day's journey, and go you forward on foot with the Miamis. Watch them closely, and mark well everything in your front as you move."
"But, Captain Wells," she insisted, as he turned away, "I am exceedingly hungry, and doubt not this youth would also be much the better for a bit of food."
"It will have to be eaten as you travel, then," he answered, not unkindly, but with all his thought now fixed on other things, "for our duty is to reach Dearborn at the first moment, and save those prisoned there from death, and worse."
I shall always remember each detail of that day's march, though I saw but little of Toinette save in stolen glances backward, Wells keeping me close at his side, while De Croix, as debonair as ever, was her constant shadow, ministering assiduously to her wants and cheering her journey with agreeable discourse. I heard much of their chatter, earnestly as I sought to remain deaf to it. To this end Wells aided me but little, for he rode forward in stern silence, completely absorbed in his own thoughts.
During the first few hours we passed through a dull desolation of desert sand, the queerly shaped hills on either side scarcely breaking the dead monotony, although they often hid from our sight our advance scouts, and made us feel isolated and alone. Once or twice I imagined I heard the deepening roar of waves bursting upon the shore-line to our right, but could gain no glimpse of blue water through those obscuring dunes. We were following a well-worn Indian trail, beaten hard by many a moccasined foot; and at last it ran from out the coarser sand and skirted along the western beach, almost at the edge of the waves. 'T was a most delightful change from the cramped and narrowed vision that had been ours so long. Our faces were now set almost directly northward; but I could not withdraw my eyes from the noble expanse of water heaving and tumbling in the dazzling sunlight. Indeed, there was little else about our course to attract attention; the shore in front lay clear and unbroken, bearing a sameness of outline that wearied the vision; each breaking wave was but the type of others that had gone before, and each jutting point of land was the picture of the next to follow. To our left, there extended, parallel to our course of march, a narrow ridge of white and firmly beaten sand, as regular in appearance as the ramparts of a fort. Here and there a break occurred where in some spring flood a sudden, rush of water had burst through. Glancing curiously down these narrow aisles, as we rode steadily onward, I caught fleeting glimpses of level prairie land, green with waving grasses, apparently stretching to the western horizon bare of tree or shrub. At first, I took this to be water also; until I realized that I looked out upon the great plains of the Illinois.
The Captain was always chary of speech; now he rode onward with so stern a face, that presently I spoke in inquiry.
"You are silent, Captain Wells," I said. "One would expect some rejoicing, as we draw so close to the end of our long journey."
He glanced aside at me.
"Wayland," he said slowly, "I have been upon the frontier all my life, and have, as you know, lived in Indian camps and shared in many a savage campaign. I am too old a man, too tried a soldier, ever to hesitate to acknowledge fear; but I tell you now, I believe we are riding northward to our deaths."
I had known, since first leaving the Maumee, that danger haunted the expedition; yet these solemn words came as a surprise.
"Why think you thus?" I asked, with newly aroused anxiety, my thoughts more with the girl behind than with myself. "Mademoiselle Toinette tells me the Fort is strong and capable of defence, and surely we are already nearly there."
"The young girl yonder with De Croix? It may be so, if it also be well provisioned for a long siege, as it is scarce likely any rescue party will be despatched so far westward. If I mistake not, Hull will have no men to spare. Yet I like not the action of the savages about us. 'T is not in Indian nature to hold off, as these are doing, and permit reinforcements to go by, when they might be halted so easily. 'T would ease my mind not a little were we attacked."
"Attacked? by whom?"
He faced me with undisguised surprise, a sarcastic smile curling his grim mouth. His hand swept along the western sky-line.
"By those red spies hiding behind that ridge of sand," he answered shortly. "Boy, where are your eyes not to have seen that every step we have taken this day has been but by sufferance of the Pottawattomies? Not for an hour since leaving camp have we marched out of shot from their guns; it means treachery, yet I can scarce tell where or how. If they have spared us this long, there is some good Indian reason for it."
I glanced along that apparently desolate sandbank, barely a hundred feet away, feeling a thrill of uneasiness sweep over me at the revelation of his words. My eyes saw nothing strange nor suspicious; but I could not doubt his well-trained instinct.
"It makes my flesh creep," I admitted; "yet surely the others do not know. Hear how the Frenchman chatters in our rear!"
"The young fool!" he muttered, as the sound of a light laugh reached us; "it will prove no jest, ere we are out of this again. Yet, Wayland," and his voice grew stronger, "the red devils must indeed mean to pass us free,—for there is Fort Dearborn, and, unless my sight deceive me, the flag is up."
I lifted my eyes eagerly, and gazed northward where his finger pointed.
We passed a group of young cottonwoods, the only trees I had noted along the shore; and a few hundred feet ahead of us, the ridge of sand, which had obscured our westward view so long, gradually fell away, permitting the eye to sweep across the wide expanse of level plain until halted by a distant row of stunted trees that seemed to line a stream of some importance. As Captain Wells spoke, my glance, which had been fixed upon these natural objects, was instantly attracted by a strange scene of human activity that unfolded to the north and west.
The land before us lay flat and low, with the golden sun of the early afternoon resting hot upon it, revealing each detail in an animated panorama wherein barbarism and civilization each bore a conspicuous part. The Fort was fully a mile and a half distant, and I could distinguish little of its outward appearance, save that it seemed low and solidly built, like a stockade of logs set upon end in the ground. It appeared gloomy, grim, inhospitable, with its gates tightly closed, and no sign of life anywhere along its dull walls; yet my heart was thrilled at catching the bright colors of the garrison flag as the western breeze rippled its folds against the blue background of the sky.
But it was outside those log barriers that our eyes encountered scenes of the greatest interest,—a mingling of tawdry decoration and wild savagery, where fierce denizens of forest and plain made their barbaric show.
No finer stage for such a spectacle could well be conceived. Upon one side stretched the great waste of waters; on the other, level plains, composed of yellow sand quickly merging into the green and brown of the prairie, while, scattered over its surface, from the near lake-shore to the distant river, were figures constantly moving, decked in gay feathers and daubed with war-paint. Westward from the Fort, toward the point where a branch of the main river appeared to emerge from the southward, stood a large village of tepees, the sun shining yellow and white on their deerskin coverings and making an odd glow in the smoke that curled above the lodge-poles. From where we rode it looked to be a big encampment, alive with figures of Indians. My companion and I both noted, and spoke together of the fact, that they all seemed braves; squaws there may have been, but of children there were none visible.
Populous as this camp appeared, the plain stretching between it and us was literally swarming with savages. A few were mounted upon horses, riding here and there with upraised spears, their hair flying wildly behind them, their war-bonnets gorgeous in the sunshine. By far the greater number, however, were idling about on foot, stalwart, swarthy fellows, with long black locks, and half-naked painted forms. One group was listening to the words of a chief; others were playing at la crosse; but most of them were merely moving restlessly here and there, not unlike caged wild animals, eager to be free.
I heard Captain Wells draw in his breath sharply.
"As I live!" he ejaculated, "there can be scarce less than a thousand warriors in that band,—and no trading-party either, if I know aught of Indian signs."
Before I could answer him, even had I any word to say, a chief broke away from the gathering mass in our immediate front, and rode headlong down upon us, bringing his horse to its haunches barely a yard away.
He was a large, sinewy man, his face rendered hideous by streaks of yellow and red, wearing a high crown of eagle feathers, with a scalp of long light-colored hair, still bloody, dangling at his belt. For a moment he and Captain Wells looked sternly into each other's eyes without speaking. Then the savage broke silence.
"Wau-mee-nuk great brave," he said, sullenly, in broken English, using Wells's Indian name, "but him big fool come here now. Why not stay with Big Turtle? He tell him Pottawattomie not want him here."
"Big Turtle did tell me," was the quiet answer, "that the Pottawattomies had made bad medicine and were dancing the war-dance in their villages; but I have met Pottawattomies before, and am not afraid. They have been my friends, and I have done them no wrong."
He looked intently at the disguised face before him, seeking to trace the features. "You are Topenebe," he said at last.
"True," returned the chief, with proud gravity. "You serve me well once; for that I come now, and tell you go back,—there is trouble here."
Wells's face darkened.
"Have I ever been a coward," he asked indignantly, "that I should turn and run for a threat? Think you, Topenebe, that I fear to sing the death-song? I have lived in the woods, and gone forth with your war-parties; am I less a warrior, now that I fight with the people of my own race? Go take your warning to some squaw; we ride straight on to Dearborn, even though we have to fight our way."
The Indian glanced, as Wells pointed, toward the Fort, and sneered.
"All old women in there," he exclaimed derisively. "Say this to-day, and that to-morrow. They shut the gates now to keep Indian on outside. No trade, no rum, no powder,—just lies. But they no keep back our young men much longer." His face grew dark, and his eyes angry.
"Why you bring them?" he asked hotly, designating our escort of Miamis, already shrinking from the taunts of the gathering braves. "They dog Indians, bad medicine; they run fast when Pottawattomie come."
"Don't be so certain about that, Topenebe," retorted Wells, shortly."But we cannot stop longer here; make way, that we may pass along,Jordan, push on with your advance through that rabble there."
The Indian chief drew his horse back beside the trail, and we moved slowly forward, our Indian guides slightly in advance, and exhibiting in every action the disinclination they felt to proceed, and their constantly increasing fear of the wild horde that now resorted to every means in their power, short of actual violence, to retard their progress. As they closed in more closely around us, taunting the Miamis unmercifully, even shaking tomahawks in their faces, with fierce eyes full of hatred and murder, I drew back my horse until I ranged up beside Mademoiselle Antoinette, and thus we rode steadily onward through that frenzied, howling mass, the girl between De Croix and me, who thus protected her on either side.
It was truly a weary ride, full of insult, and perchance of grave peril had we faced that naked mob less resolutely. Doubtless the chiefs restrained their young men somewhat, but more than once we came within a hair's-breadth of serious conflict. They hemmed us in so tightly that we could only walk our horses; and twice they pressed upon Jordan so hard as to halt him altogether, bunching his cowardly Miamis, and even striking them contemptuously with their blackened sticks. The second time this occurred, Captain Wells rode forward to force a path, driving the spurs into his horse so quickly that the startled animal fairly cut a lane through the crowded savages before they could draw back. Naught restrained them from open violence but their knowledge of that stern-faced swarthy soldier who fronted them with such dauntless courage. Hundreds in that swarm had seen him before, when, as the adopted son of a great war-chief of the Miamis he had been at their side in many a wild foray along the border.
"Wau-mee-nuk, the white chief," passed from lip to lip; and sullenly, slowly, reluctantly, the frenzied red circle fell back, as he pressed his rearing horse full against them.
How hideous their painted faces looked, as we slowly pushed past them, their lips shrieking insult, their sinewy hands gripping at our stirrups, their brandished weapons shaken in our faces. With firm-set lips and watchful eyes I rode, bent well forward, so as best to protect the girl, my rifle held across my saddle pommel. Twice some vengeful arm struck me a savage blow, and once a young devil with long matted hair hanging over his fierce eyes thrust a sharpened stake viciously at the girl's face. I struck with quick-clinched hand, and he reeled back into the mass with a sharp cry of pain. My eyes caught the sudden dazzle, as De Croix whipped out his rapier.
"Not that, Monsieur!" I cried hastily, across her horse's neck. "Use the hilt, not the blade, unless you wish to die."
He heard me above the clamor, and with a quick turn of the weapon struck fiercely at a scowling brave who grasped at his horse's rein. He smiled pleasantly across at me, his fingers twisting his small mustache.
"'T is doubtless good advice, friend Wayland," he said, carelessly, "but these copper-colored devils are indeed most annoying upon this side, and I may lose my temper ere we reach the gate."
"For the sake of her who rides between us, I beg that you hold in hard, Monsieur," I answered. "'T would be overmuch to pay, I imagine, for a hot brain."
I glanced at her as I spoke, scarcely conscious even then that I had removed my eyes from the threatening mob that pressed me, though I know I must have done so, for I retain the picture of her yet. She rode facing me, although her saddle was of the old army type with merely a folded blanket to soften its sharp contours, and her foot could barely find firm support within the narrow strap above the wooden stirrup. She sat erect and easily, swaying gently to the slow step of the horse. Her face was pale, but there was no evidence of timidity in her dark eyes, and she smiled at me as our glances met.
"You are surely a brave girl, Mademoiselle!" I exclaimed, unable to restrain my admiration. "'T is a scene to try any nerves."
"Yet almost worth the danger," she returned softly, "to realize what men can be in such stress of need. You are the real—Beware of that half-breed, Monsieur!"
Her last words were a quick warning, yet my eyes were already upon the fellow, and as he dodged down, knife in hand, to aim a vicious lunge at the forward leg of her horse, I brought the stock of my rifle crunching against his shoulder. The next instant we had passed over his naked body as he lay gasping in the trail.
"See!" she cried, with eagerness. "The gates are opened!"
We were possibly a hundred yards from the southern front of the stockade, when I glanced forward and saw the level ground between a seething mass of savage forms, so densely wedged together as to block further progress. I could see hundreds of brown sinewy arms uplifted from a sea of faces to brandish weapons of every description, and marked how the Miamis cowered like whipped curs behind the protection of Wells's horse, while close beside him stood Jordan, erect and silent as it on parade, a rifle grasped in his hands, his head bare, a great welt showing redly across his white forehead.
A little party, hardly more than twenty infantry-men, marched steadily out from the open gateway of the Fort. The first file bore bayonets fixed upon their guns, and the naked savages fell slowly back before the polished steel. It was smartly done, and it thrilled my blood to note with what silent determination that small band of disciplined men pressed their way onward, passing through the threatening mass of redskins as indifferently as if they had been forest trees. A young, smooth-faced fellow, wearing a new officer's uniform, led them, sword in hand, a smile of light contempt upon his lips.
"Clear the space wider, Campbell!" he said sternly, to the big corporal at his side. "Swing your files to left and right, and push the rabble out of the way."
They did it with the butts of their guns, laughing at the brandished knives and tomahawks and the fierce painted faces that scowled at them, paying no apparent heed to the taunts and insults showered from every side. There were some stones thrown, a few blows were struck, but no rifle-shot broke the brief struggle. The young officer strode forward down the open space, and fronted our advance.
"I presume this is Captain Wells, from Fort Wayne?" he said, lifting his cap as he spoke.
"It is," was the reply, "and I am very glad to find that you still holdFort Dearborn."
The other's frank and boyish face darkened slightly, as if at an unpleasant memory.
"'T is no fault of some," he muttered hastily; then he checked himself. "We are glad to greet you, Captain Wells," he added, in a more formal tone, glancing about upon us, "and your party. I am Ensign Ronan, of the garrison; and if you will kindly pass between my guard lines, you will find Captain Heald awaiting you within."
Thus we rode freely forward, with the guarding soldiery on either side of us, their faces to the howling savages; we passed in at the great southern gate, and halted amid the buildings of old Fort Dearborn.