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diff --git a/28958.txt b/28958.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..71052a9 --- /dev/null +++ b/28958.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10065 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Road to Frontenac, by Samuel Merwin + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Road to Frontenac + + +Author: Samuel Merwin + + + +Release Date: May 24, 2009 [eBook #28958] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROAD TO FRONTENAC*** + + +E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 28958-h.htm or 28958-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/28958/28958-h/28958-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/28958/28958-h.zip) + + + + + +THE ROAD TO FRONTENAC + + +[Illustration: "Half way down the steps was a double file of Indians +chained two and two."] + + +THE ROAD TO FRONTENAC + +by + +SAMUEL MERWIN + + + + + + + +New York +Doubleday, Page & Co. +1901 + +Copyright, 1901, by Frank Leslie Publishing House. +Copyright, 1901, by Doubleday, Page & Company. + + + + +CONTENTS + + CHAPTER PAGE + I. Captain Menard Has a Lazy Day. 1 + II. The Maid. 19 + III. Mademoiselle Eats Her Breakfast. 38 + IV. The Long Arrow. 61 + V. Danton Breaks Out. 83 + VI. The Fight at La Gallette. 103 + VII. A Compliment for Menard. 127 + VIII. The Maid Makes New Friends. 147 + IX. The Word of an Onondaga. 169 + X. A Night Council. 191 + XI. The Big Throat Speaks. 212 + XII. The Long House. 235 + XIII. The Voice of the Great Mountain. 254 + XIV. Where the Dead Sit. 272 + XV. The Bad Doctor. 293 + XVI. At the Long Lake. 314 + XVII. Northward. 337 + XVIII. The Only Way. 359 + XIX. Frontenac. 383 + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + PAGE + + "Half way down the steps was a double file of Indians + chained two and two." _Frontispiece_ + + "Sitting on a bundle was, a girl, perhaps eighteen or + nineteen years old." 36 + + "The Indians walked silently to the fire." 64 + + "Menard stood ... smiling with the same look of scorn + he had worn ... when they led him to the torture." 256 + + + + +THE ROAD TO FRONTENAC. + +CHAPTER I + +CAPTAIN MENARD HAS A LAZY DAY. + + +Captain Daniel Menard leaned against the parapet at the outer edge of +the citadel balcony. The sun was high, the air clear and still. +Beneath him, at the foot of the cliff, nestled the Lower Town, a strip +of shops and houses, hemmed in by the palisades and the lower battery. +The St. Lawrence flowed by, hardly stirred by the light breeze. Out in +the channel, beyond the merchantmen, lay three ships of war, _Le +Fourgon_, _Le Profond_, and _La Perle_, each with a cluster of supply +boats at her side; and the stir and rattle of tackle and chain coming +faintly over the water from _Le Fourgon_ told that she would sail for +France on the morrow, if God should choose to send the wind. + +Looking almost straight down, Menard could see the long flight of +steps that climbed from the settlement on the water front to the +nobler city on the heights. Halfway down the steps was a double file +of Indians, chained two and two, and guarded by a dozen regulars from +his own company. He watched them until they reached the bottom and +disappeared behind the row of buildings that ended on the wharf in +Patron's trading store. In a moment they reappeared, and marched +across the wharf, toward the two boats from _Le Fourgon_ that awaited +them. Even from the height, Menard could see that the soldiers had a +stiff task to control their prisoners. After one of the boats, laden +deep, had shoved off, there was a struggle, and the crowd of idlers +that had gathered scattered suddenly. Two Indians had broken away, and +were running across the wharf, with a little knot of soldiers close on +their heels. One of the soldiers, leaping forward, brought the stock +of his musket down on the head of the nearer Indian. The fugitive went +down, dragging with him his companion, who tugged desperately at the +chain. A soldier drew his knife, and cut off the dead Indian's arm +close to the iron wristlet, breaking the bone with his foot. Then they +led back the captive and tumbled him into the boat, with the hand of +his comrade dangling at the end of the chain. The incident had excited +the soldiers, and they kicked and pounded the prisoners. A crowd +gathered about the body on the wharf, the bolder ones snatching at his +beads and wampum belt. + +Menard raised his eyes to the lands across the river and to the white +cloud-puffs above. After months of camp and canoe, sleeping in snow +and rain, and by day paddling, poling, and wading,--never a new face +among the grumbling soldiers or the stolid prisoners,--after this, +Quebec stood for luxury and the pleasant demoralization of good +living. He liked the noise of passing feet, the hail of goodwill from +door to door, the plodding shopkeepers and artisans, the comfortable +priests in brown and gray. + +The sound of oars brought his eyes again to the river. The two boats +with their loads of redskins were passing the merchantmen that lay +between the men-of-war and the city. On the wharf, awaiting a second +trip, was a huddled group of prisoners. Menard's face clouded as he +watched them. Men of his experience were wondering what effect this +new plan of the Governor's would have upon the Iroquois. Capturing a +hunting party by treachery and shipping them off to the King's galleys +was a bold stroke,--too bold, perhaps. Governor Frontenac would never +have done this; he knew the Iroquois temper too well. Governor la +Barre, for all his bluster, would not have dared. It was certain that +this new governor, Denonville, was not a coward; but as Menard +reflected, going back over his own fifteen years of frontier life, he +knew that this policy of brute force would be sorely tested by the +tact and intrigue of the Five Nations. His own part in the capture +little disturbed him. He had obeyed orders. He had brought the band to +the citadel at Quebec without losing a man (saving the poor devil who +had strangled himself with his own thongs at La Gallette). + +To such men as Menard, whose lives were woven closely into the fabric +of New France, the present condition was clear. Many an evening he had +spent with Major d'Orvilliers, at Fort Frontenac, in talking over the +recent years of history into which their two names and their two lives +had gone so deeply. Until his recall to France in 1682, Governor +Frontenac had been for ten years building up in the Iroquois heart a +fear and awe of Onontio, the Great Father, at Quebec. D'Orvilliers +knew that period the better, for Menard had not come over (from the +little town of his birth, in Picardy) until Frontenac's policy was +well established. But Menard had lived hard and rapidly during his +first years in the province, and he was a stern-faced young soldier +when he stood on the wharf, hat in hand and sword to chin, watching +New France's greatest governor sitting erect in the boat that bore him +away from his own. Menard had been initiated by a long captivity among +the Onondagas, and had won his first commission by gallant action +under the Governor's eye. + +In those days no insult went unpunished; no tribe failed twice in its +obligations. The circle of French influence was firmly extended around +the haunts of the Iroquois in New York and along the Ohio. From +Frontenac, on Lake Ontario, north to Hudson's Bay, was French land. To +the westward, along the Ottawa River, and skirting the north shore of +Lake Huron to Michillimackinac and Green Bay, were the strong French +allies, the Hurons, Ottawas, Nipissings, Kiskagons, Sacs, Foxes, and +Mascoutins. Down at the lower end of Lake Michigan, at the Chicagou +and St. Joseph portages, were the Miamis; and farther still, the +Illinois, whom the Sieur de la Salle and Henri de Tonty had drawn +close under the arm of New France. + +This chain of allies, with Du Luth's fort at Detroit and a partial +control over Niagara, had given New France nearly all the fur trade of +the Great Lakes. The English Governor Dongan, of New York, dared not +to fight openly for it, but he armed the Iroquois and set them against +the French. Menard had laughed when the word came, in 1684, from +Father de Lamberville, whose influence worked so far toward keeping +the Iroquois quiet, that Dongan had pompously set up the arms of his +king in each Iroquois village, even dating them back a year to make +his claim the more secure. Every old soldier knew that more than +decrees and coats of arms were needed to win the Five Nations. + +When La Barre succeeded Frontenac, lacking the tact and firmness which +had established Frontenac's name among foes and allies alike, he fell +back upon bluster (to say nothing of the common talk in Quebec that he +had set out to build up his private fortune by the fur trade). +Learning that, by his grant of Fort Frontenac, La Salle was entitled +to a third of the trade that passed through it, he seized the fort. He +weakened La Salle's communications so greatly that La Salle and Tonty +could not make good their promises of French protection to the +Illinois. This made it possible for the Iroquois, unhindered, to lay +waste the Illinois country. By equally shortsighted methods, La Barre +so weakened the ties that bound the northern allies, and so increased +the arrogance of the Iroquois, that when Governor Denonville took up +the task, most of the allies, always looking to the stronger party, +were on the point of going over to the Iroquois. This would give the +fur trade to the English, and ruin New France. Governor Dongan seized +the moment to promise better bargains for the peltry than the French +could offer. It remained for the new governor to make a demonstration +which would establish firmly the drooping prestige of New France. + +Now the spring of 1687 was just ending. Since February it had been +spread abroad, from the gulf seignories to Fort Frontenac, that +preparations were making for a great campaign against the Iroquois. +Champigny, the new Intendant, had scoured the country for supplies, +and now was building bateaux and buying canoes. Regulars and militia +were drilling into the semblance of an army, and palisades and +defences were everywhere built or strengthened, that the home guard +might keep the province secure during the long absence of the troops. +Menard wondered, as he snapped bits of stone off the parapet, and +watched the last boatload of galley slaves embarking at the wharf, +whether the Governor's plans would carry. He would undoubtedly act +with precision, he would follow every detail of campaigning to the +delight of the tacticians, he would make a great splash,--and then? +How about the wily chiefs of the Senecas and Onondagas and Mohawks? +They had hoodwinked La Barre into signing the meanest treaty that ever +disgraced New France. Would Denonville, too, blind himself to the +truth that shrewd minds may work behind painted faces? + +But above all else, Menard was a soldier. He snapped another bit of +stone, and gave up the problem. He would fight at the Governor's +orders, retreat at the Governor's command,--to the Governor would +belong the credit or the blame. Of only one thing was he sure,--his +own half hundred men should fight as they had always fought, and +should hold their posts to the end. There ended his responsibility. +And did not the good Fathers say that God was watching over New +France? + +Meantime the breath of summer was in the air. The spring campaign was +over for Menard. So he rested both elbows on the parapet, and wondered +how long the leaves had been out in Picardy. Over beyond the ships and +the river were waves of the newest green, instead of the deep, rich +colour and the bloom of full life he had left behind at Fort Frontenac +but two weeks back. The long journey down the St. Lawrence had seemed +almost a descent into winter. On the way to Quebec every day and every +league had brought fewer blossoms. Even Montreal, sixty leagues to the +south, had her summer before Quebec. + +On the wharf below him the crowd were still plucking the dead Indian. +Menard could hear their laughter and shouts. Their figures were small +in the distance, their actions grotesque. One man was dancing, +brandishing some part of the Indian's costume. Menard could not +distinguish the object in his hand. A priest crossed the wharf and +elbowed into the crowd. For the moment he was lost in the rabble, but +shortly the shouting quieted and the lightheaded fellows crowded into +a close group. Probably the priest was addressing them. Soon the +fringe of the crowd thinned, then the others walked quietly away. When +at last the priest was left alone by the mutilated Indian, he knelt, +and for a space was motionless. + +The idleness of reaction was on Menard. He leaned on the parapet, +hardly stirring, while the priest went on his way across the square +and began toiling up the steps. When he was halfway up, Menard +recognized him for Claude de Casson, an old Jesuit of the Iroquois +mission at Sault St. Francis Xavier, near Montreal. Menard strolled +through the citadel to the square, and, meeting the Father, walked +with him. + +"Well, Father Claude, you are a long way from your flock." + +"Yes, Captain Menard, I came with the relations. I have been"--Father +Claude was blown from his climb, and he paused, wiping the sweat from +his lean face--"I have been grieved by a spectacle in the Lower Town. +Some wretches had killed an Onondaga with the brutality of his own +tribe, and were robbing him. Are such acts permitted to-day in Quebec, +M'sieu?" + +"He was a prisoner escaping from the soldiers. It must be a full year +since I last saw you, Father. I hope you bring a good record to the +College." + +"The best since our founding, M'sieu." + +"Is there no word in the relations from the New York missions?" + +"Yes, M'sieu. Brother de Lamberville brings glorious word from the +Mohawks. Twenty-three complete conversions." + +"You say he brings this word?" Menard's brows came together. "Then he +has come up to Montreal?" + +"Yes." + +"It is true, then, that the Iroquois have word of our plans?" + +"It would seem so. He said that a war party which started weeks ago +for the Illinois country had been recalled. A messenger was sent out +but a few days before he came away." + +Menard slowly shook his head. + +"This word should go to the Commandant," he said. "How about your +Indians at the Mission, Father Claude? They have not French hearts." + +"Ah, but I am certain, M'sieu, they would not break faith with us." + +"You can trust them?" + +"They are Christians, M'sieu." + +"Yes, but they are Iroquois. Have none of them gone away since this +news reached Quebec?" + +"None, save one poor wretch whose drunkenness long ago caused us to +give up hope, though I--" + +"What became of him? Where did he go?" + +"He wandered away in a drunken fit." + +"And you have not heard from him since?" + +"No, M'sieu. He was Teganouan, an Onondaga." + +"You would do well, Father, if I may suggest, to take what news you +may have to the Commandant. You and I know the importance of trifles +at such a time as this. How long do you remain in Quebec?" + +"A few days only, unless there should be work for me here." + +"Do you return then to Montreal?" + +"I cannot say until I have made my report and delivered the relations. +Brother de Lamberville thinks it important that word should go to all +those who are now labouring in the Iroquois villages. If they remain +after the campaign is fairly started, their lives may be in danger." + +"You think it necessary to go yourself?" + +"What else, M'sieu? This is not the time to trust too freely an Indian +runner. And a layman might never get through alive. My habit would be +the best safeguard." + +"I suppose you are right. If I should not see you again, I must ask +you to convey my respect to your colleagues at the Mission. I shall +probably be here until the campaign is fairly started; perhaps longer. +Already I am tasting the luxury of idleness." + +"A dangerous luxury, M'sieu. If I might be permitted to advise--" + +"Yes, yes, Father,--I know, I know. But what is the use? You are a +priest, I am a soldier. Yours is penance, mine is fighting; yours is +praying, mine is singing,--every man to his own. And when you priests +have got your pagans converted, we soldiers will clean up the mess +with our muskets. And now, Father, good day, and may God be with +you." + +The priest's face was unmoved as he looked after the retreating +figure. He had watched Menard grow from a roistering lieutenant into a +rigid captain, and he knew his temper too well to mind the flicks of +banter. But before the soldier had passed from earshot, he called +after him. + +Menard turned back. "What now, good Father? A mass for my soul, or a +last absolution before I plunge into my term of dissolute idleness?" + +"Neither, my son," replied the priest, smiling. "Is any of your +idleness to be shared with another?" + +"Certainly, Father." + +"I am bringing a picture to the College." + +"I have no money, Father. I should be a sorry patron." + +"No, no, M'sieu; it is not a patron I seek. It is the advice of one +who has seen and judged the master work of Paris. The painting has +been shown to none as yet." + +"But you have seen it?" + +"Yes, yes, I have seen it. Come with me, M'sieu; it is at my room." + +They walked together to the cell, six feet long by five wide, where +Father Claude slept when in Quebec. It was bare of all save a hard +cot. A bale, packed in rough cloth and tied with rope, lay on the bed. +Father Claude opened the bundle, while Menard leaned against the wall, +and drew out his few personal belongings and his portable altar before +he reached the flat, square package at the bottom. There was a touch +of colour in his cheeks and a nervousness in the movement of his hands +as he untied the flaxen strings, stripped off the cloth, and held the +picture up to Menard's view. + +It was a full-length portrait in oil of a young Indian woman, holding +a small cross in her right hand, and gazing at it with bent head. Her +left hand was spread upon her breast. She wore a calico chemise +reaching below her knees, and leggings, and moccasins. A heavy robe +was thrown over the top of her head, falling on the sides and back to +within a foot of the ground. In the middle background was a stream, +with four Indians in a canoe. A tiny stone chapel stood on the bank at +the extreme right. + +Father Claude's hand trembled as he supported the canvas upon the cot, +and his eyes wavered from Menard to the picture, and back again. + +"It is not altogether completed," he said, nervously. "Of course the +detail will be worked out more fully, and the cross should be given a +warmer radiance. Perhaps a light showing through the windows of the +chapel--" + +"Who is it?" asked Menard. + +"It is Catherine Outasoren, the Lily of the Onondagas," replied the +priest; "the noblest woman that ever rose from the depths of Indian +superstition." + +Menard's eyes rested on an obscure signature in a lower corner, "C. de +C." + +"You certainly have reason to be proud of the work. But may I ask +about the perspective? Should the maiden appear larger than the +chapel?" + +The priest gazed at the painting with an unsettled expression. + +"Yes," he said, "perhaps you are right, M'sieu. At any rate I will +give the matter thought and prayer." + +"And the Indians," Menard questioned, "in the canoe; are they coming +toward the chapel or going away from it? It seems to me that any doubt +on that point should be removed." + +"Ah," said the priest; "that very doubt is allegorical. It typifies +the workings of the human mind when first confronted by the truth. +When the seeker first beholds the light, as shown through the devotion +of such a woman as Catherine Outasoren, there arises in his mind--" + +"Very true, very true! But I never yet have seen a canoe-load of +Indians in doubt whether they were moving forward or backward." + +Father Claude held the canvas at arm's length and gazed long at it. + +"Tell me, M'sieu," he said at last, "do you think it deserving of a +place in the College?" + +"I do not see why not." + +"And you think I would be justified in laying a request before the +Superior?" + +Menard shrugged his shoulders. + +"That is your decision, Father." + +"I never can fully thank you, my son, for your kindness in looking on +my humble work. I will not decide to-day. First I must add foliage in +the foreground. And I will give it my earnest prayer." + +Menard said farewell and went out, leaving the priest gazing at the +picture. He strolled back toward the citadel, stopping now and then to +greet an old friend or a chance acquaintance. When he arrived at the +headquarters in the citadel he found Danton, a brown-haired young +lieutenant of engineers, gazing at a heap of plans and other papers on +the table. + +"Well, Captain Menard," was his greeting, "I'd give half of last +year's pay, if I ever get it, to feel as lazy as you look." + +"You are lazy enough," growled Menard. + +"That begs the question. It is not how lazy a man is, but how lazy he +gets a chance to be." + +"If you'd been through what I have this spring, you'd deserve a +rest." + +"You must have had a stirring time," said the Lieutenant. "Major +Provost has promised to let me go out with the line when the campaign +starts. I've not had a brush since I came over." + +Menard gave him a quizzical smile before he replied, "You'll get +brushes enough." + +"By the way, the Major wants to see you." + +"Does he?" said Menard. + +He lighted his short pipe with a coal from the fire and walked out. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE MAID. + + +Menard did not go at once to see Major Provost, the Commandant. He had +already handed in his report at the citadel. It was probable that this +was some new work for him. He had just settled his mind to the +prospect of a rest, the first since that mad holiday, seven years +before, when word had come that his lieutenant's commission was on the +way. That was at Three Rivers. He wanted to idle, to waste a few weeks +for the sheer delight of extravagance, but his blood did not flow more +quickly at the wish. He was an older man by a score of years--or was +it only seven? + +He lingered on the square. The black-eyed children, mostly dirty and +ragged (for the maids whom the King had sent over by shiploads to his +colonists had not developed into the most diligent and neat +housewives) tumbled about his feet. He allowed himself to be drawn +into their play. They had no awe of his uniform, for it was worn and +frayed. He had not yet taken the trouble to get out his fresher coat +and breeches and boots. He thought of this, and was again amused. It +was another sign of age. The time had been when his first care after +arriving in Quebec was to don his rich house uniform and polished +scabbard, and step gaily to the Major's house to sun himself in the +welcome of the Major's pretty wife, who had known his uncle, the Sieur +de Vauban, at La Rochelle. Now he was back in Quebec from months on +the frontier, he was summoned to the Major's house, and yet he stayed +and laughed at the children. For the Major's wife was older, too, and +the vivacity of her youth was thinning out and uncovering the +needle-like tongue beneath. A slim little urchin was squirming between +his boots, with a pursuing rabble close behind, and the Captain had to +take hold of a young tree to keep his feet. He turned and started in +pursuit of the children, but caught sight of two Ursuline sisters +entering the square, and straightened himself. After all, a captain is +a captain, even though the intoxication of spring be in him, and his +heart struggling to clamber back into the land of youth. He walked on +across the square and down the street to the Major's house. + +Major Provost welcomed Menard heartily, and led him to his office. +"We'll have our business first," he said, "and get it done with." + +Menard settled back in the carved oak chair which had for generations +been a member of the Major's family. The light mood had left him. Now +he was the soldier, brusque in manner, with lines about his mouth +which, to certain men, gave his face a hard expression. + +"First let me ask you, Menard, what are your plans?" + +"For the present?" + +"Yes." + +"I have none." + +"Your personal affairs, I mean. Have you any matters to hold your +attention here for the next few weeks?" + +"None." + +Major Provost fingered his quill. + +"I don't know, of course, how your own feelings stand, Menard. You've +been worked hard for three years, and I suppose you want rest. But +somebody must go to Fort Frontenac, and the Governor thinks you are +the man." + +Menard made a gesture of impatience. + +"There are a dozen men here with little to do." + +"I know it. But this matter is of some importance, and it may call for +delicate work before you are through with it. It isn't much in +itself,--merely to bear orders to d'Orvilliers,--but the Governor +thinks that the right man may be able to do strong work before the +campaign opens. You probably know that we are to move against the +Senecas alone, and that we must treat with the other nations to keep +them from aiding the Senecas. No one can say just how this can be +done. Even Father de Lamberville has come back, you know, from the +Mohawks; but the Governor thinks that if we send a good man, he may be +able to see a way, once he gets on the ground, and can advise with +d'Orvilliers. Now, you are a good man, Menard; and you can influence +the Indians if anyone can." + +"You are a little vague, Major." + +"You will go to Frontenac in advance of the army to prepare the way. +La Durantaye and Du Luth are already at Detroit, awaiting orders, with +close to two hundred Frenchmen and four hundred Indians. And Tonty +should have joined them before now with several hundred Illinois." + +"I don't believe he'll bring many Illinois. They must have known of +the Iroquois war party that started toward their villages. They will +stay to defend their own country. They may not know that the Iroquois +party was recalled." + +"Recalled?" said the Major. + +"Yes. Father de Casson has the news from Father de Lamberville. You +see what that means. The Iroquois have been warned." + +"I was afraid of it. These new governors, Menard--each has to learn +his lesson from the beginning of the book. Why will they not take +counsel from the men who know the Indians? This campaign has been +heralded as broadly as a trading fair." + +"When should I start?" asked Menard, abruptly. + +"At once--within a few days." Major Provost looked at the other's set +face. "I am sorry about this, Menard. But you understand, I am sure. +Perhaps I had better give you an idea of our plans. You know, of +course, that we have three ships fitting out at Frontenac. Already our +force is being got together at St. Helen's Island, by Montreal. +Champigny is engaging canoemen and working out a transport and supply +system between Montreal and Frontenac. The force will proceed to +Frontenac, and embark from there in the ships, bateaux, and canoes." + +"Is the rendezvous at Niagara?" + +"No, at La Famine, on the southern shore of Lake Ontario." + +Menard nodded. He knew the place; for by nearly starving there, years +before, with the others of Governor la Barre's ill-starred expedition, +he had contributed to giving the spot a name. + +"La Durantaye and Du Luth, with Tonty, are to meet us there. You will +instruct them to move on to Niagara, and there await further orders. +We shall sail around the east end of the lake and along the south +shore." + +"The Iroquois will follow your movements." + +"We intend that they shall. They will not know where our final landing +place will be, and will have to keep their forces well in hand. And it +will prevent them from uniting to attack Niagara." + +"What then?" + +"We will leave a strong guard at La Famine with the stores, and strike +inland for the Seneca villages." + +"And now what part am I to play in this?" + +Major Provost leaned back in his chair. + +"You, Menard, are to represent the Governor. You will move in advance +of the troops. At Frontenac it will be your duty to see first that the +way is clear to getting the two divisions to the meeting place at La +Famine, and to see that d'Orvilliers has the fort ready for the +troops, with extra cabins and stockades. Then the Governor wishes you +and d'Orvilliers to go over all the information the scouts bring in. +If you can decide upon any course which will hold back the other +tribes from aiding the Senecas, act upon it at once, without orders. +In other words, you have full liberty to follow your judgment. That +ought to be responsibility enough." + +Menard stretched his arms. "All right, Major. But when my day comes to +taste the delights of Quebec, I hope I may not be too old to enjoy +it." + +"The Governor honours you, Menard, with this undertaking." + +"He honoured De Sevigne with a majority and turned him loose in +Quebec." + +"Too bad, Menard, too bad," the Major laughed. "Now I, who ask nothing +better than a brisk campaign, must rot here in Quebec until I die." + +"Are you not to go?" + +"No. I am to stay behind and brighten my lonely moments drilling the +rabble of a home guard. Do you think you will need an escort?" + +"No; the river from here to Frontenac is in use every day. I shall +want canoemen. Two will be enough." + +"Very well. Let me know what supplies you need. You mistake, man, in +grumbling at the work. You are building up a reputation that never +could live at short range. Stay away long enough and you will be a +more popular man than the Governor. I envy you, on my honour, I do." + +"One thing more, Major. This galley affair; what do you think of it?" + +"You mean the capture at Frontenac? You should know better than I, +Menard. You brought the prisoners down." + +"There is no doubt in my mind, Major, nor in d'Orvilliers's! We obeyed +orders." Menard looked up expressively. "You know the Iroquois. You +know how they will take it. The worst fault was La Grange's. He +captured the party--and it was not a war party--by deliberate +treachery. D'Orvilliers had intrusted to him the Governor's orders +that Indians must be got for the King's galleys. As you know, +d'Orvilliers and I both protested. I did not bring them here until the +Governor commanded it." + +"Well, we can't help that now, Menard." + +"That is not the question. You ask me to keep the Onondagas out of +this fight, after we have taken a hundred of their warriors in this +way." + +"I know it, Menard; I know it. But the Governor's orders--Well, I have +nothing to say. You can only do your best." + +They went to the reception room, where Madame de Provost awaited them. +Menard was made to stay and dine, in order that Madame could draw from +him a long account of his latest adventures on the frontier. Madame de +Provost, though she had lived a dozen years in the province, had never +been farther from Quebec than the Seignory of the Marquis de St. +Denis, half a dozen leagues below the city. The stories that came to +her ears of massacres and battles, of settlers butchered in the +fields, and of the dashing adventures of La Salle and Du Luth, were to +her no more than wild tales from a far-away land. So she chattered +through the long dinner; and for the first time since he had reached +the city, Menard wished himself back on Lake Ontario, where there were +no women. + +Menard returned to the citadel early in the evening. Lieutenant Danton +was drawing plans for a redoubt, but he leaned back as Menard +entered. + +"I began to think you were not coming back, Captain," he said. "I'm +told the Major says that you are the only man in New France who could +have got that trading agreement from the Onondagas last year. How did +you do it?" + +"How does a man usually do what he is told to do?" Menard sat on a +corner of the long table and looked lazily at the boy. + +"That wasn't the kind of treaty our Governors make; you know it +wasn't." + +"You were not here under Frontenac." + +"No. I wish I had been. He must have been a great orator. My father +has told me about the long council at Montreal. He said that Frontenac +out-talked the greatest of the Mohawk orators. Did you learn it from +him?" + +"My boy, when you are through with your pretty pictures," Menard +motioned toward the plans, "and have got out into the real work; when +you've spent months in Iroquois lodges; when you've been burned and +shot and starved,--then it will be a pity if you haven't learned to be +a soldier. What is this little thing you are drawing?" + +Danton flushed. "You may laugh at the engineers," he said, "but where +would King Louis be now if--" + +"Tut, my boy, tut!" + +"That is very well--" + +Menard laughed. "How old are you, Danton?" he asked. + +"Twenty-two." + +"Very good. You have got on well. I dare say you've learned a deal out +of your books. Now we have you out here in the provinces, where the +hard work is done. Well send you back in a few years a real man. And +then you'll step smartly among the pretty officers of the King, and +when one speaks of New France you'll lift your brows and say: 'New +France? Ah, yes. That is in America. I was there once. Rather a +primitive life--no court, no army.' Ah, ha, my boy--no, never mind. +Come up to my quarters and have a sip of real old Burgundy." + +"Are you ever serious, Menard?" asked Danton, sitting on the Captain's +cot and smacking his lips over the liquor. + +Menard smiled. "I'm afraid I shall have to play at composure for an +hour," he said. "I must see Father Claude. Settle yourself here, if +you like." + +Menard hurried away, for it was growing late. He found the Jesuit +meditating in his cell. + +"Ah, Captain Menard, I am glad to see you so soon again." + +Menard sat on the narrow bed and stretched out his legs as far as he +could in the cramped space. + +"How soon will your duties be over here, Father?" + +"There seems to be no reason for me to stay. I have delivered the +relations, and no further work has come to hand." + +"Then it may be that you can help me, Father." + +"You know, my son, that I will." + +"Very well. I have been ordered to Fort Frontenac in advance of the +troops. I am to bear orders to d'Orvilliers and to Du Luth and La +Durantaye. It is possible that there may be some delicate work to be +done among the Indians. You know the Iroquois, Father, and our two +heads together should be stronger than mine alone. I want you to go +with me." + +The priest's eyes lighted. + +"It may be that I can get permission at Montreal." + +"You will go, then?" + +"Gladly. It is to be no one else--we two--" + +"We shall have canoemen. To my mind, the fewer the better." + +"Still, Captain, you cannot depend on the canoemen. Would it not be +well to have one other man? You might need a messenger." + +Menard thought for a moment. + +"True, Father. And if I am to have a man, he had best be an officer; +yes, a man who could execute orders. I'll take Danton. You will be +ready for a start, Father, probably to-morrow?" + +"At any time, my son." + +"Good night." + +There was little work to be done in preparing for the journey (Major +Provost would attend to the supplies and to engaging the canoemen), +and Menard still was in the lazy mood. He stood for a while at the +edge of the cliff and looked down at the wharf. It was dark, and he +could not see whether the body of the Indian had been removed. The +incident of the afternoon had been gathering importance to his mind +the longer he thought of it. Five years earlier Menard had been +captured by the Onondagas during a fight near Fort Frontenac. They had +taken him to one of their villages, south of Lake Ontario, and for +days had tortured him and starved him. They had drawn out cords from +his arms and legs and thrust sticks between them and the flesh. His +back was still covered with scars from the burning slivers which they +had stuck through the skin. They had torn the nails from his left hand +with their teeth. Then Otreouati, the Big Throat, the chief who had +led his followers to believe in Frontenac, came back from a parley +with another tribe, and taking a liking to the tall young soldier who +bore the torture without flinching, he adopted him into his own +family. Menard had lived with the Indians, a captive only in name, and +had earned the name of the Big Buffalo by his skill in the hunt. At +last, when they had released him, it was under a compact of +friendship, that had never since been broken. It had stood many tests. +Even during open campaigns they had singled him out from the other +Frenchmen as their brother. He wondered whether they knew of his part +in stocking the King's galleys. Probably they did. + +It was late when Menard took a last sweeping look at the river and +walked up to the citadel. His day of idleness was over. After all, it +had not been altogether a wasted day. But it was the longest holiday +he was likely to have for months to come. Having made up his mind to +accept the facts, he stretched out on his bed and went to sleep. + +Danton took the news that he was to be a member of the party with +enthusiasm. Menard had hardly finished telling him when he swept the +tiresome plans and specifications into a heap at the end of the table, +and rushed out to get a musket (for a sword would have no place in the +work before them). The start was to be made at noon, but Danton was on +the ground so early as almost to lower his dignity in the eyes of the +bronzed canoemen. He wore his bravest uniform, with polished belt and +buttons and new lace at the neck. His broad hat had a long curling +feather. He wore the new musket slung rakishly over his shoulder. + +About the middle of the forenoon, as Menard was looking over his +orders, memorizing them in case of accident to the papers, he was +found by Major Provost's orderly, who said that the Commandant wished +to see him at once. + +The Major was busy with the engineers in another room, but he left +them. + +"Menard," he said abruptly, "I've got to ask you to do me a favour. If +I could see any way out of it--" + +"I will do anything I can." + +"Thank you. I suppose you know the Marquis de St. Denis?" + +"Slightly." + +"Well, I shan't take time to give you the whole story. St. Denis has +the seignory six leagues to the east. You may know that he went into +debt to invest in La Salle's colonizing scheme in Louisiana. St. Denis +was in France at the time, and had great faith in La Salle. Of course, +now that La Salle has not been heard from, and the debts are all past +due without even a rumour of success to make them good--you can +imagine the rest. The seignory has been seized. St. Denis has +nothing." + +"Has he a family?" asked Menard. + +"A daughter. His wife is dead. He came here after you left last night, +and again this morning. We are old friends, and I have been trying to +help him. He is going to sail to-day on _Le Fourgon_ for Paris to see +what he can save from the wreck. My house is crowded with the officers +who are here planning the campaign; but St. Denis has a cousin living +at Frontenac, Captain la Grange, and we've got to get Valerie there +somehow. Do you think it will be safe?" + +"It's a hard trip, you know; but it's safe enough." + +"I shan't forget your kindness, Menard. The girl is a spirited little +thing, and she takes it hard. Madame has set her heart on getting her +to La Grange. I don't know all the details myself." + +"I think we can arrange it, Major. We start in an hour." + +"She will be there. You are a splendid fellow, Menard. Good-bye." + +Menard's face was less amiable once he was away from the house. He +knew from experience the disagreeable task that lay before him. But +there was nothing to be said, so he went to his quarters and took a +last look at the orders. Then taking off his coat and his rough shirt, +he placed the papers carefully in a buckskin bag, which he hung about +his neck. + +Everything was ready at the wharf. The long canoe lay waiting, a +_voyageur_ at each end. The bales were stowed carefully in the centre. +Father de Casson met Menard at the upper end of the dock. He had come +down by way of the winding road, for his bundle was heavy, and he knew +no way but to carry it himself. Menard good-naturedly gave him a hand +as they crossed the dock. When they had set it down, and Menard +straightened up, his eyes twinkled, for young Danton, in his finery, +was nervously walking back and forth at the edge of the dock, looking +fixedly into the canoe, apparently inspecting the bales. His shoulders +were unused to the musket, and by a quick turn he had brought the +muzzle under the rim of his hat, setting it on the side of his head. +His face was red. + +Sitting on a bundle, a rod away, was a girl, perhaps eighteen or +nineteen years old, wearing a simple travelling dress. Her hands were +clasped tightly in her lap, and she gazed steadily out over the water +with an air that would have been haughty save for the slight upward +tip of her nose. + +[Illustration: "Sitting on a bundle was, a girl, perhaps eighteen or +nineteen years old."] + +Menard's eyes sobered, and he handed his musket to one of the +canoemen. Then he crossed over to where the maiden was sitting. + +"Mademoiselle St. Denis?" + +The girl looked up at him. Her eyes seemed to take in the dinginess of +his uniform. She inclined her head. + +"I am Captain Menard. Major Provost tells me that I am to have the +honour of escorting you to Fort Frontenac. With your permission we +will start. Father Claude de Casson is to go with us, and Lieutenant +Danton." + +The bundle was placed in the canoe. Menard helped the girl to a seat +near the middle: from the way she stepped in and took her seat he saw +that she had been on the river before. Danton, with his Parisian airs, +had to be helped in carefully. Then they were off, each of the four +men swinging a paddle, though Danton managed his awkwardly at first. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +MADEMOISELLE EATS HER BREAKFAST. + + +The sun hung low over the western woods when Menard, at the close of +the second day, headed the canoe shoreward. The great river swept by +with hardly a surface motion, dimpling and rippling under the last +touch of the day breeze. Menard's eyes rested on Father Claude, as the +canoe drew into the shadow of the trees. The priest, stiff from the +hours of sitting and kneeling, had taken up a paddle and was handling +it deftly. He had rolled his sleeves up to the elbow, showing a thin +forearm with wire-like muscles. The two _voyageurs_, at bow and stern, +were proving to be quiet enough fellows. Guerin, the younger, wore a +boyish, half-confiding look. His fellow, Perrot, was an older man. + +Menard felt, when he thought of Danton, a sense of pride in his own +right judgment. The boy was taking hold with a strong, if unguided, +hand. Already the feather was gone from his hat, the lace from his +throat. Two days in the canoe and a night on the ground had stained +and wrinkled his uniform,--a condition of which, with his quick +adaptability, he was already beginning to feel proud. He had flushed +often, during the first day, under the shrewd glances of the +_voyageurs_, who read the inexperience in his bright clothes and white +hands. Menard knew, from the way his shoulders followed the swing of +his arms, that the steady paddling was laming him sadly. He would +allow Danton five days more; at the week's end he must be a man, else +the experiment had failed. + +The canoe scraped bottom under a wild growth of brush and outreaching +trees. The forest was stirring with the rustle and call of birds, with +the breath of the leaves and the far-away crackle and plunge of larger +animals through the undergrowth. A chipmunk, with inquisitive eyes, +sat on the root of a knotted oak, but he whisked away when Menard and +the canoemen stepped into the shallow water. Overhead, showing little +fear of the canoe and of the strangely clad animals within it, +scampered a family of red squirrels, now nibbling a nut from the +winter's store, now running and jumping from tree to tree, until only +by the shaking of the twigs and the leaf-clusters could one follow +their movements. + +The maid leaned an elbow on the bale which Danton had placed at her +back, and rested her cheek on her hand. They were under the drooping +branches of an elm that stood holding to the edge of the bank. Well +out over the water sat one of the squirrels, his tail sweeping above +his head, nibbling an acorn, and looking with hasty little glances at +the canoe. She watched him, and memories came into her eyes. There had +been squirrels on her father's seignory who would take nuts from her +hand, burying them slyly under the bushes, and hurrying back for +more. + +Danton came wading to the side of the canoe to help her to the bank, +but she took his hand only to steady herself while rising. Stepping +over the bracing-strips between the gunwales, she caught a swaying +branch, and swung herself lightly ashore. Back from the water the +ground rose into a low hill, covered with oak and elm and ragged +hickory trees. Here, for a space, there was little undergrowth, and +save under the heaviest of the trees the ground was green with short, +coarse grass. Danton took a hatchet from the canoe, and trimmed a fir +tree, heaping armfuls of green boughs at the foot of an oak near the +top of the slope. Over these he threw a blanket. The maid came slowly +up the hill, in response to his call, and with a weary little smile of +thanks she sank upon the fragrant couch. She rested against the tree +trunk, gazing through the nearer foliage at the rushing river. + +For the two days she had been like this,--silent, shy, with sad eyes. +And Danton,--who could no more have avoided the company of such a maid +than he could have left off eating or breathing or laughing,--Danton, +for all his short Paris life (which should, Heaven knows, have given +him a front with the maids), could do nothing but hang about, eager +for a smile or a word, yet too young to know that he could better +serve his case by leaving her with her thoughts, and with the +boundless woods and the great lonely spaces of the river. Menard saw +the comedy--as indeed, who of the party did not--and was amused. A few +moments later he glanced again toward the oak. He was sharpening a +knife, and could seem not to be observing. Danton was sitting a few +yards from the maid, with the awkward air of a youth who doubts his +welcome. She still looked out over the water. Menard saw that her face +was white and drooping. He knew that she had not slept; for twice +during the preceding night, as he lay in his blanket, he had heard +from under the overturned canoe, where she lay, the low sound of her +sobbing. + +Menard walked slowly down the slope, testing the knife-edge with his +thumb, his short pipe between his teeth. He sheathed his knife, +lowered his pipe, and called:-- + +"Guerin." The two men, who were bringing wood to the fire, looked up. +"Where has the Father gone?" + +Guerin pointed around the base of the hill. "He went to the woods, +M'sieu." + +"With a bundle," added Perrot. + +Menard walked around the hill, and after a little searching found the +priest, kneeling, in a clearing, before the portrait of Catharine +Outasoren, which he had set against a tree. His brushes and paints +were spread on the ground before him. He did not hear Menard +approach. + +"Oh," said the captain, "you brought the picture!" + +The priest looked up over his shoulder, with a startled manner. + +"I myself have stripped down to the lightest necessaries," said +Menard, with a significant glance at the portrait. + +The priest lowered his brush, and sat looking at the picture +with troubled eyes. "I had no place for it," he said at last, +hesitatingly. + +"They didn't take it at the College, eh?" + +Father Claude flushed. + +"They were very kind. They felt that perhaps it was not entirely +completed, and that--" + +"You will leave it at Montreal, then, at the Mission?" + +"Yes,--I suppose so. Yes, I shall plan to leave it there." + +Menard leaned against a tree, and pressed the tobacco down in his +pipe. + +"I have been doing some thinking in the last few minutes, Father. I've +decided to make my first call on you for assistance." + +"Very well, Captain." + +"It is about the maid. Have you noticed?" + +"She seems of a sober mind." + +"Don't you see why? It is her father's losses, and this journey. She +is taking it very hard. She is afraid, Father, all the time; and she +neither sleeps nor eats." + +"It is naturally hard for such a child as she is to take this journey. +She has had no experience,--she does not comprehend the easy customs +and the hard travelling of the frontier. I think that in time--" + +Menard was puffing impatiently. + +"Father," he said, "do you remember when Major Gordeau was killed, and +I was detailed to bring his wife and daughter down to Three Rivers? It +was much like this. They fretted and could not sleep, and the coarse +fare of the road was beneath their appetites. Do you remember? And +when it came to taking the rapids, with the same days of hard work +that lie before us now, they were too weak, and they sickened, the +mother first, then the daughter. When I think of that, Father, of the +last week of that journey, and of how I swore never again to take a +woman in my care on the river, I--well, there is no use in going over +it. If this goes on, we shall not get to Frontenac in time, that is +all. And I cannot afford to take such a chance." + +The priest looked grave. The long struggle against the rapids from +Montreal to La Gallette had tried the hardihood of more than one +strong man. + +"It is probable, my son, that the sense of your responsibility makes +you a little over-cautious. She is a strong enough child, I should +say. Still, perhaps the food is not what she has been accustomed to. I +have noticed that she eats little." + +"Perrot is too fond of grease," Menard said. "I must tell him to use +less grease." + +"If she should be taken sick, we could leave her with someone at +Montreal." + +"Leave her at Montreal!" exclaimed Menard. "When she breaks down, it +will be in the rapids. And then I must either go on alone, or wait +with you until she is strong enough to be carried. In any case it +means confusion and delay. And I must not be delayed." + +"What have you in mind to do?" + +"We must find a way to brighten her spirits. It is homesickness that +worries her, and sorrow for her father, and dread of what is before +and around her. I'll warrant she has never been away from her home +before. We must get her confidence,--devise ways to cheer her, +brighten her." + +"I can reason with her, and--" + +"This is not the time for reasoning, Father. What we must do is to +make her stop thinking, stop looking backward and forward. And there +is Danton; he can help. He is of an age with her, and should succeed +where you and I might fail." + +"He has not awaited the suggestion, Captain." + +"Yes, I know. But he must,--well, Father, it has all been said. The +maid is on our hands, and must be got to Frontenac. That is all. And +there is nothing for it but to rely on Danton to help." + +The priest looked at his brushes, and hesitated. "I am not certain," +he said, "she is very young. And Lieutenant Danton,--I have heard, +while at Quebec,--" + +Menard laughed. + +"He is a boy, Father. These tales may be true enough. Why not? They +would fit as well any idle lieutenant in Quebec, who is lucky +enough to have an eye, and a pair of shoulders, and a bit of the +King's gold in his purse. This maid is the daughter of a gentleman, +Father; she is none of your Lower Town jades. And Danton may be young +and foolish,--as may we all have been,--but he is a gentleman born." + +"Very well," replied the priest, looking with regret at the failing +light, and beginning to gather his brushes. "I will counsel her, but I +fear it will do little good. If the maid is sick at heart, and we +attempt to guide her thoughts, we may but drive the trouble deeper in. +It is the same with some of the Indian maidens, when they have left +the tribe for the Mission. Now and again there comes a time, even with +piety to strengthen them,--and this maid has little,--when the +yearning seems to grow too strong to be cured. Sometimes they go back. +One died. It was at Sault St. Francis in the year of the--" + +"Yes, yes," Menard broke in. "We have only one fact to remember; there +must be no delay in carrying out the Governor's orders. We cannot +change our plans because of this maid." + +"We must not let her understand, M'sieu." + +Menard had been standing, with a shoulder against the tree, +alternately puffing at his pipe and lowering it, scowling meanwhile at +the ground. Now he suddenly raised his head and chuckled. + +"It will be many a year since I have played the beau, Father. It may +be that I have forgotten the role." He spread out his hands and looked +at the twisted fingers. "But I can try, like a soldier. And there are +three of us, Father Claude, there are three of us." + +He turned to go back to the camp, but the priest touched him. + +"My son,--perhaps, before you return, you would look again at my +unworthy portrait. I--about the matter of the canoe--" + +"Oh," said Menard, "you've taken it out." + +"Yes; it seemed best, considering the danger that others might feel +the same doubts which troubled you." + +"I wouldn't do that. The canoe was all right, once the direction were +decided on." + +"Above all else, the true portrait should convey to the mind of the +observer the impression that a single, an unmistakable purpose +underlies the work. When one considers--" + +"Very true, Father, very true," said Menard abruptly, looking about at +the beginning of the twilight. "And now we had better get back. The +supper will be ready." + +Menard strode away toward the camp. Father Claude watched him for a +time through the trees, then turned again to the picture. Finally he +got together his materials, and carrying them in a fold of his gown, +with the picture in his left hand, he followed Menard. + +The maid was leaning back against the tree, looking up at the sky, +where the first red of the afterglow was spreading. She did not hear +Menard; and he paused, a few yards away, to look at the clear +whiteness of her skin and the full curve of her throat. Her figure and +air, her habits of gesture and step, and carriage of the head, were +those of the free-hearted maid of the seignory. They told of an +outdoor life, of a good horse, and a light canoe, and the inbred love +of trees and sky and running water. Here was none of the stiffness, +the more than Parisian manner, of the maidens of Quebec. To stand +there and look at her, unconscious as she was, pleased Menard. + +"Mademoiselle," he said, coming nearer, "will you join us at supper?" + +The maid looked at him with a slow blush (she was not yet accustomed +to the right of these men to enter into the routine of her life). +Menard reached to help her, but she rose easily. + +"Lieutenant Danton is not here?" + +"No, M'sieu, he walked away." + +They sat about a log. Danton had not strayed far, for he joined them +shortly, wearing a sulky expression. Menard looked about the group. +The maid was silent. Father Claude was beginning at once on the food +before him. The twilight was growing deeper, and Guerin dragged a log +to the fire, throwing it on the pile with a shower of sparks, and half +a hundred shooting tongues of flame. The Captain looked again at +Danton, and saw that the boy's glance shifted uneasily about the +group. Altogether it was an unfortunate start for his plan. But it was +clear that no other would break the ice, so he drew a long breath, and +plunged doggedly into the story of his first fight on the St. +Lawrence. + +It was a brave story of ambuscade and battle; and it was full of the +dark of night and the red flash of muskets and the stealth and +treachery of the Iroquois soul. When he reached the tale of the +captured Mohawk, who sat against a tree with a ball in his lungs, to +the last refusing the sacrament, and dying like a chief with the death +song on his lips, Danton was leaning forward, breathless and eager, +hanging on his words. The maid's eyes, too, were moist. Then they +talked on, Danton asking boyish questions, and Father Claude starting +over and again on a narrative of the wonderful conversion of the Huron +drunkard, Heroukiki, who, in his zeal,--and here Menard always swept +in with a new story, which left the priest adrift in the eddies of the +conversation. At last, when they rose, and the dusk was settling over +the trees, the maid was laughing with gentle good fellowship. + +While they were eating, the _voyageurs_ had brought the canoe a short +way up the bank, resting it, bottom up, on large stones brought from +the shore. Underneath was a soft cot of balsam; over the canoe were +blankets, hanging on both sides to the ground. Then Mademoiselle said +good-night, with a moment's lingering on the word, and a wistful note +in her voice that brought perhaps more sympathy than had the sad eyes +of the morning. For after all she was only a girl, and hers was a +brave little heart. + +The three men lay on the slope with hardly a word, looking at the +river, now shining like silver through the trees. This new turn in the +life of the party was not as yet to be taken familiarly. Father Claude +withdrew early to his meditations. Menard stretched out on his back, +his hands behind his head, gazing lazily at the leaves overhead, now +hanging motionless from the twigs. + +Danton was sitting up, looking about, and running the young reeds +through his fingers. + +"Danton," Menard said, after a long silence, "I suppose you know that +we have something of a problem on our hands." + +Danton looked over the river. + +"What have you thought about Mademoiselle?" + +"I don't understand." + +"Father Claude and I have been talking this evening about her. I have +thought that she does not look any too strong for a hard journey of a +hundred and more leagues." + +"She has little colour," said Danton, cautiously. + +"It seems to me, Danton, that you can help us." + +"How?" + +"What seems to you the cause of the trouble?" + +"With Mademoiselle? She takes little impression from the kindness of +those about her." + +"Oh, come, Danton. You know better. Even a boy of your age should see +deeper than that. You think she slights you; very likely she does. +What of that? You are not here to be drawn into a boy-and-girl quarrel +with a maid who chances to share our canoe. You are here as my aid, to +make the shortest time possible between Quebec and Frontenac. If she +were to fall sick, we should be delayed. Therefore she must not fall +sick." + +Danton had plucked a weed, and now was pulling it to pieces, bit by +bit. + +"What do you want me to do?" + +"Stop this moping, this hanging about. Take hold of the matter. Devise +talks, diversions; fill her idle moments; I care not what you +do,--within limits, my boy, within limits." + +"Oh," said Danton, "then you really want me to?" + +"Certainly. I am too old myself." + +Danton rose, and walked a few steps away and back. + +"But she will have none of me, Menard. It is, 'No, with thanks,' or, +worse, a shake of the head. If I offer to help, if I try to talk, if +I--oh, it is always the same. I am tired of it." + +Menard smiled in the dark. + +"Is that your reply to an order from your superior officer, Danton?" + +The boy stood silent for a moment, then he said, "I beg your pardon, +Captain." And with a curious effort at stiffness he wandered off among +the trees, and was soon out of Menard's sight. + +Menard walked slowly down to the fire, opened his pack, and spreading +out his blanket, rolled himself in it with his feet close to the red +embers. For a long time he lay awake. This episode took him back +nearly a decade, to a time when he, like Danton, would have lost his +poise at a glance from the nearest pair of eyes. That the maid should +so interest him was in itself amusing. Had she been older or younger, +had she been any but the timid, honest little woman that she was, he +would have left her, without a second thought, in the care of the +Commandant at Montreal, to be escorted through the rapids by some +later party. But he had fixed his mind on getting her to Frontenac, +and the question was settled. His last thought that night was of her +quiet laughter and her friendly, hesitating "good-night." + +He was awakened in the half light before the sunrise by a step on the +twigs. At a little distance through the trees was the maid, walking +down toward the water. She slipped easily between the briers, holding +her skirt close. From a spring, not a hundred yards up the hillside, a +brook came tumbling to the river, picking its way under and over the +stones and the fallen trees, and trickling over the bank with a low +murmur. The maid stopped by a pool, and kneeling on a flat rock, +dipped her hands. + +The others were asleep. A rod away lay Danton, a sprawling heap in his +blanket. Menard rose, tossed his blanket upon his bundle, and walked +slowly down toward the maid. + +"Mademoiselle, you rise with the birds." + +She looked around, and laughed gently. He saw that she had frankly +accepted the first little change in their relations. + +"I like to be with the birds, M'sieu." + +Menard had no small talk. He was thinking of her evident lack of +sleep. + +"It is the best hour for the river, Mademoiselle." The colours of the +dawn were beginning to creep up beyond the eastern bank, sending a +lance of red and gold into a low cloud bank, and a spread of soft +crimson close after. "Perhaps you are fond of the fish?" + +The maid was kneeling to pick a cluster of yellow flower cups. She +looked up and nodded, with a smile. + +"We fished at home, M'sieu." + +"We will go," said Menard, abruptly. "I will bring down the canoe." + +He threw the blankets to one side, and stooping under the long canoe, +carried it on his shoulders to the water. A line and hook were in his +bundle; the bait was ready at a turn of the grass and weeds. + +"We are two adventurers," he said lightly, as he tossed the line into +the canoe, and held out one of the paddles. "You should do your share +of the morning's work, Mademoiselle." + +She laughed again, and took the paddle. They pushed off; the maid +kneeling at the bow, Menard in the stern. He guided the canoe against +the current. The water lay flat under the still air, reflecting the +gloomy trees on the banks, and the deepening colours of the sky. He +fell into a lazy, swinging stroke, watching the maid. Her arms and +shoulders moved easily, with the grace of one who had tumbled about a +canoe from early childhood. + +"Ready, Mademoiselle?" He was heading for a deep pool near a line of +rushes. The maid, laying down her paddle, reached back for the line, +and put on the bait with her own fingers. + +Menard held the canoe steady against the current, which was there but +a slow movement, while she lowered the hook over the bow. They sat +without a word for some minutes. Once he spoke, in a bantering voice, +and she motioned to him to be quiet. Her brows were drawn down close +together. + +It was but a short time before she felt a jerk at the line. Her arms +straightened out, and she pressed her lips tightly together. "Quick!" +she said. "Go ahead!" + +"Can you hold it?" he asked, as he dipped his paddle. + +She nodded. "I wish the line were longer. It will be hard to give him +any room." She wound the cord around her wrist. "Will the line hold, +M'sieu?" + +"I think so. See if you can pull in." + +She leaned back, and pulled steadily, then shook her head. "Not very +much. Perhaps, if you can get into the shallow water--" + +Menard slowly worked the canoe through an opening in the rushes. There +was a thrashing about and plunging not two rods away. Once the fish +leaped clear of the water in a curve of clashing silver. + +"It's a salmon," he said. "A small one." + +The maid held hard, but the colour had gone from her face. The canoe +drew nearer to the shore. + +"Hold fast," said Menard. He gave a last sweep of the paddle, and +crept forward to the bow. Kneeling behind the maid, he reached over +her shoulder, and took the line below her hand. + +"Careful, M'sieu; it may break." + +"We must risk it." He pulled slowly in until the fish was close under +the gunwale. "Now can you hold?" + +"Yes." She shook a straying lock of hair from her eyes, and took +another turn of the cord around her wrist. + +"Steady," he said. He drew his knife, leaned over the gunwale, and +stabbed at the fighting fish until his blade sank in just below the +gills, and he could lift it aboard. + +The maid laughed nervously, and rested her hands upon the two +gunwales. Her breath was gone, and there was a red mark around her +wrist where the cord had been. The canoe had drifted into the rushes, +and Menard went back to his paddle, and worked out again into the +channel. + +"And now, Mademoiselle," he said, "we shall have a breakfast of our +own. You need not paddle. I will take her down." + +Her breath was coming back. She laughed, and sat comfortably in the +bow, facing Menard, and letting her eyes follow the steady swing and +catch of his paddle. When they reached the camp, the _voyageurs_ were +astir, but Danton and the priest still slept. The first red glare of +the sun was levelled at them over the eastern trees. + +Menard made a fire under an arch of flat stones, and trimming a strip +of oak wood with his hatchet, he laid the cleaned fish upon it and +kept it on the fire until it was brown and crisp. The maid sat by, her +eyes alert and her cheeks flushed. + +Danton was awake before the fish was cooked, and he stood about with a +pretence of not observing them. The maid was fairly aroused. She drew +him into the talk, and laughed and bantered with the two men as +prettily as they could have wished from a Quebec belle. + +All during the morning Danton was silent. At noon, when the halt was +made for the midday lunch, he was still puzzling over the apparent +understanding between Mademoiselle and the Captain. Before the journey +was taken up, he stood for a moment near Menard, on the river bank. + +"Captain," he said, "you asked me last night to--" + +"Well?" + +"It may be that I have misunderstood you. Of course, if Mademoiselle--if +you--" He caught himself. + +Menard smiled; then he read the earnestness beneath the boy's +confusion, and sobered. + +"Mademoiselle and I went fishing, Danton. Result,--Mademoiselle eats +her first meal. If you can do as much you shall have my thanks. And +now remember that you are a lieutenant in the King's service." + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE LONG ARROW. + + +Menard allowed a halt of but a few hours at Three Rivers. The +settlement held little of interest, for all the resident troops and +most of the farmers and _engages_ had gone up the river to join the +army which was assembling at Montreal. The close of the first week out +of Quebec saw the party well on the second half of the journey to +Montreal. As they went on, Menard's thoughts were drawn more deeply +into the work that lay ahead, and in spite of his efforts at +lightness, the work of keeping up the maid's spirits fell mostly to +Danton (though Father Claude did what he could). As matters gradually +became adjusted, Danton's cheery, hearty manner began to tell; and now +that there was little choice of company, the maid turned to him for +her diversion. + +On the morning of the second day after leaving Three Rivers, the two +_voyageurs_ were carrying the canoe to the water when Guerin slipped +on a wet log, throwing the canoe to the ground, and tearing a wide +rent in the bark. Menard was impatient at this carelessness. The +knowledge that the Three Rivers detachment had already gone on to +Montreal had decided him to move more rapidly, and he had given orders +that they should start each day in the first light of the dawn. This +was a chill morning. A low, heavy fog lay on the river, thinning, at a +yard above the water, into a light mist which veiled what colour may +have been in the east. + +While Guerin and Perrot were patching the canoe under Menard's eye, +Danton found some dry logs under the brush, and built up the dying +fire, which was in a rocky hollow, not visible from the river. Then he +and the maid sat on the rocks above it, where they could get the +warmth, and yet could see the river. Menard and his men, though only a +few rods away, were but blurred forms as they moved about the canoe, +gumming the new seams. + +The maid, save for an occasional heavy hour in the late evenings, had +settled into a cheerful frame of mind. The novelty, and the many +exciting moments of the journey, as well as the kindness of the three +men, kept her thoughts occupied. Danton, once he had shaken off his +sulky fits, was good company. They sat side by side on the rock, +looking down at the struggling fire, or at the figures moving about +the canoe, or out into the white mystery of the river, talking easily +in low tones of themselves and their lives and hopes. + +The mist, instead of rising, seemed to settle closer to the water, as +the broad daylight came across the upper air. The maid and Danton fell +into silence as the picture brightened. Danton was less sensitive than +she to the whims of nature, and tiring of the scene, he was gazing +down into the fire when the maid, without a word, touched his arm. He +looked up at her; then, seeing that her eyes were fixed on the river, +followed her gaze. Not more than a score of yards from the shore, +moving silently through the mist, were the heads of three Indians. +Their profiles stood out clearly against the white background; their +shoulders seemed to dissolve into the fog. They passed slowly on up +the stream, looking straight ahead, without a twitch of the eyelids, +like a vision from the happy hunting-ground. + +Danton slipped down from the rock, and stepped lightly to Menard, +pointing out the three heads just as they were fading into the +whiteness about them. Menard motioned to Guerin and Perrot to get the +newly patched canoe into the water, took three muskets, and in a +moment pushed off, leaving Danton with the maid and the priest, who +had retired a short distance for his morning prayers. For a minute the +heads of the three white men were in sight above the fog, then they +too were swallowed up. + +"I wonder what Menard thinks about them?" said Danton, going back +toward the maid. + +She was still looking at the mist, and did not hear him, so he took a +seat at the foot of the rock and rubbed the hammer of his musket, +which had been rusted by the damp. After a time the maid looked toward +him. + +"What does it mean?" she asked. + +"I don't know," Danton replied. "They were going up-stream in a canoe, +I suppose. Probably he thinks they can give us some information." + +In a few minutes, during which the mist was clearing under the rays of +the sun, the two canoes together came around a wooded point and +beached. The Indians walked silently to the fire. They appeared not to +see Danton and the maid. Menard paused to look over his canoe. It was +leaking badly, and before joining the group at the fire, he set the +canoemen at work making a new patch. + +[Illustration: "The Indians walked silently to the fire."] + +"Danton," he said, in a low tone, when he reached the fire, "find the +Father." + +Danton hurried away, and Menard turned to the largest of the three +Indians, who wore the brightest blanket, and had a peculiar wampum +collar, decorated in mosaic-like beadwork. + +"You are travellers, like ourselves," he said, in the Iroquois tongue. +"We cannot let you pass without a word of greeting. I see that you are +of the Onondagas, my brothers. It may be that you are from the Mission +at the Sault St. Francis Xavier?" + +The Indian bowed. "We go from Three Rivers to Montreal." + +"I, too, am taking my party to Montreal." Menard thought it wise to +withhold the further facts of his journey. "Have you brothers at Three +Rivers?" + +"No," replied the Indian. "We have been sent with a paper from the +Superior at Sault St. Francis Xavier to the good fathers at Three +Rivers. Now we are on our return to the Mission." + +"Have my brothers eaten?" Menard motioned toward the fire. "It is +still early in the day." + +The three bowed. "We are travelling fast," said the spokesman, "for +the Superior awaits our return. We ate before the light. It will soon +be time for us to go on our journey." + +Menard saw Father Claude and Danton approaching, and waited for them. +The face of the large Indian seemed like some other face that had had +a place in his memory. It was not unlikely that he had known this +warrior during his captivity, when half a thousand braves had been to +him as brothers. The Indian was apparently of middle age, and had +lines of dignity and authority in his face that made it hard to accept +him as a subdued resident at the Mission. But Menard knew that no sign +of doubt or suspicion must appear in his face, so he waited for the +priest. The Indians sat with their knees drawn up and their blankets +wrapped about them, looking stolidly at the fire. + +Father Claude came quietly into the group, and with a smile extended +his hand to the smallest of the three, an older man, with a wrinkled +face. "I did not look for you here, Teganouan. Have you gone back to +the Mission?" + +Teganouan returned the smile, and bowed. + +"My brother has told the white man of our errand?" + +"Yes," said Menard, "they have been sent to Three Rivers by the +Superior, and are now returning. I have told them that we, too, are +going to Montreal." + +The priest took the hint. "We shall meet you and your brothers again, +Teganouan. They are newcomers at the Mission, I believe. They had not +come when I left." + +"No, Father. They have but last week become Christians. The Long +Arrow" (inclining his head toward the large Indian) "has lost a son, +and through his suffering was led to take the faith." + +The Long Arrow, who had seemed to lose interest in the conversation as +soon as he had finished speaking, here rose. + +"My brothers and the good Father will give us their blessing? The end +of the journey is yet three days away. I had hoped that we might be +permitted to accept the protection of the son of Onontio,"--he looked +at Menard,--"but I see that his canoe will not be ready for the +journey before the sun is high." He looked gravely from Menard to the +priest, then walked to the shore, followed by the others. They pushed +off, and shortly disappeared around the point of land. + +Menard gave them no attention, but as soon as they were gone from +sight, he turned to the priest. + +"Well, Father, what do you make of that?" + +Father Claude shook his head. + +"Nothing, as yet, M'sieu. Do you know who the large man is?" + +"No; but I seem to remember him. And what is more to the point, he +certainly remembers me." + +"Are you sure?" + +"He recognized me on the river. He came back with me so willingly +because he wanted to know more about us. That was plain. It would be +well, Father, to enquire at the Mission. We should know more of them +and their errand at Three Rivers." + +Menard called Danton, and walked with him a little way into the wood. + +"Danton," he said, "you are going through this journey with us, and I +intend that you shall know about such matters as this meeting with the +Onondagas." + +"Oh, they were Onondagas?" + +"Yes. They claim to be Mission Indians, but neither the Father nor I +altogether believe them." In a few sentences Menard outlined the +conversation. "Now, Danton, this may or may not be an important +incident. I want you to know the necessity for keeping our own counsel +in all such matters, dropping no careless words, and letting no +emotions show. I wish you would make a point of learning the Iroquois +language. Father Claude will help you. You are to act as my right-hand +man, and you may as well begin now to learn to draw your own +conclusions from an Indian's words." + +Danton took eagerly to the lessons with Father Claude, for they seemed +another definite step toward the excitement that surely, to his mind, +lay in wait ahead. The studying began on that afternoon, while they +were toiling up against the stream. + +In the evening, when the dusk was coming down, and the little camp was +ready for the night, Menard came up from the heap of stores, where the +_voyageurs_ had already stretched out, and found the maid sitting +alone by the fire. Danton, in his rush of interest in the new study, +had drawn Father Claude aside for another lesson. + +"Mademoiselle is lonely?" asked Menard, sitting beside her. + +"No, no, M'sieu. I have too many thoughts for that." + +"What interesting thoughts they must be." + +"They are, M'sieu. They are all about the Indians this morning. Tell +me, M'sieu,--they called you Onontio. What does it mean?" + +"They called me the son of Onontio, because of my uniform. Onontio, +the Great Mountain, is their name for the Governor; and the Governor's +soldiers are to them his sons." + +"They speak a strange language. It is not the same as that of the +Ottawas, who once worked for my father." + +"Did you know their tongue?" + +"A few words, and some of the signs. This,"--raising her hand, with +the first finger extended, and slowly moving her arm in a half circle +from horizon to horizon,--"this meant a sun,--one day." + +Menard looked at her for a moment in silence. He enjoyed her +enthusiasm. + +"Why don't you learn Iroquois? You would enjoy it. It is a beautiful +tongue,--the language of metaphor and poetry." + +"I should like to," she replied, looking with a faint smile at Danton +and the priest, who were sitting under a beech tree, mumbling in low +tones. + +"You shall join the class, Mademoiselle. You shall begin to-morrow. It +was thoughtless of Danton to take the Father's instruction to himself +alone." + +"And then, M'sieu, I will know what the Indians say when they sit up +stiffly in their blankets, and talk down in their throats. They have +such dignity. It is hard not to believe them when they look straight +at one." + +"Don't you believe them?" + +"The three this morning,--they did not tell the truth." + +"Didn't they?" + +"Why, I understood that you did not believe them." + +"And where did Mademoiselle learn that? Did she follow the conversation?" + +"No; but Lieutenant Danton--" + +"He told you?" + +She nodded. Menard frowned. + +"He shouldn't have done that." + +The maid looked surprised at his remark, and the smile left her face. +"Of course, M'sieu," she said, a little stiffly, "whatever is not +meant for my ears--" + +Menard was still frowning, and he failed to notice her change in +manner. He abruptly gave the conversation a new turn, but seeing after +a short time that the maid had lost interest in his sallies, he rose, +and called to the priest. + +"Father, you are to have a new pupil. Mademoiselle also will study the +language of the Iroquois. If you are quick enough with your pupils, we +shall soon be able to hold a conversation each night about the fire. +Perhaps, if you would forego your exclusive air, Mademoiselle would +begin at once." + +Danton, without waiting for the priest to start, came hurriedly over +and sat by the maid. + +"You must pardon me," he said, "I did not think,--I did not know that +you would be interested. It is so dry." + +The maid smiled at the fire. + +"You did not ask," she replied, "and I could not offer myself to the +class." + +"It will be splendid," said Danton. "We shall learn the language of +the trees and the grass and the rivers and the birds. And the message +of the wampum belt, too, we shall know. You see,"--looking up at +Menard,--"already I am catching the meanings." + +Menard smiled, and then went down the bank, leaving the three to bend +their heads together over the mysteries of the Iroquois rules of +gender, written out by Father Claude on a strip of bark. It was nearly +an hour later, after the maid had crept to her couch beneath the +canoe, and Perrot and Guerin had sprawled upon the bales and were +snoring in rival keys, that Danton came lightly down the slope humming +a drinking song. He saw Menard, and dropped to the ground beside him, +with a low laugh. + +"Mademoiselle will lead my wits a chase, Menard. Already she is deep +in the spirit of the new work." + +"Be careful, my boy, that she leads no more than your wits a chase." + +Danton laughed again. + +"I don't believe there is great danger. What a voice she has! I did +not know it at first, when she was frightened and spoke only in the +lower tones. Now when she speaks or laughs it is like--" + +"Like what?" + +"There is no fit simile in our tongue, light as it is. It may be that +in the Iroquois I shall find the words. It should be something about +the singing brooks or the voice of the leaves at night." + +The lad was in such buoyant spirits that Menard had to harden himself +for the rebuke which he must give. With the Indian tribes Menard had +the tact, the control of a situation, that would have graced a council +of great chiefs; but in matters of discipline, the blunter faculties +and language of the white men seemed to give his wit no play. Now, as +nearly always, he spoke abruptly. + +"Have you forgotten our talk of this morning, Danton?" + +"No," replied the boy, looking up in surprise. + +The night had none of the dampness that had left a white veil over the +morning just gone. The moon was half hidden behind the western trees. +The sky, for all the dark, was blue and deep, set with thousands of +stars, each looking down at its mate in the shining water. + +"I spoke of the importance of keeping our own counsel." + +Danton began to feel what was coming. He looked down at the ground +without replying. + +"To-night Mademoiselle has repeated a part of our conversation." + +"Mademoiselle,--why, she is one of our party. She knows about us,--who +we are, what we are going for--" + +"Then you have told her, Danton?" + +"How could she help knowing? We are taking her to Frontenac." + +"Father Claude has not told her why we go to Frontenac--nor have I." + +"But Major Provost is her friend--" + +"He would never have told her." + +"But she seemed to know about it." + +"Then you have talked it over with her?" + +"Why, no,--that is, in speaking of our journey we said something of +the meaning of the expedition. It could hardly be expected that we,--I +fail to see, Captain, what it is you are accusing me of." + +"You have not been accused yet, Danton. Let me ask you a question. Why +did you enter the King's army?" + +Danton hesitated, and started once or twice to frame answer, but made +no reply. + +"Did you wish a gay uniform, to please the maids, to--" + +"You are unfair, M'sieu." + +"No, I wish to know. We will say, if you like, that you have hoped to +be a soldier,--a soldier of whom the King may one day have cause to be +proud." + +Danton flushed, and bowed his head. + +"I offered you the chance to go on this mission, Danton, because I +believed in you. I believed that you had the making of a soldier. This +is not a child's errand, this of ours. It is the work of strong men. +This morning I told you of my talk with the three Onondagas because I +have planned to take you into my confidence, and to give you the +chance to make a name for yourself. I made a point of the importance +of keeping such things to yourself." + +"But Mademoiselle, M'sieu, she is different--" + +"Look at the facts, Danton. I told you this morning: within twelve +hours you have passed on your information. How do I know that you +would not have let it slip to others if you had had the chance? You +forget that Mademoiselle is a woman, and the first and last duty of a +soldier is to tell no secrets to a woman." + +"You speak wrongly of Mademoiselle. It is cowardly to talk thus." + +Menard paused to get control of his temper. + +"Cowardly, Danton? Is that the word you apply to your commander?" + +"Your pardon, M'sieu! A thousand pardons! It escaped me--" + +"We will pass it by. I want you to understand this matter. Mademoiselle +will spend a night in Montreal. We shall leave her with other women. A +stray word, which to her might mean nothing, might be enough to give +the wrong persons a hint of the meaning of our journey. A moment's +nervousness might slip the bridle from her tongue. All New France is +not so loyal that we can afford to drop a chance secret here and +there. As to this maid, she is only a child, and by giving her our +secrets, you are forcing her to bear a burden which we should bear +alone. These Indians this morning were spies, I am inclined to +believe, scouting along the river for information of the coming +campaign. The only way that we can feel secure is by letting no word +escape our lips, no matter how trivial. I tell you this, not so much +for this occasion as for a suggestion for the future." + +"Very well, M'sieu. You will please accept my complete apologies." + +"I shall have to add, Danton, that if any further mistake of this kind +occurs I shall be forced to dismiss you from my service. Now that I +have said this, I want you to understand that I don't expect it to +happen. I have believed in you, Danton, and I stand ready to be a +friend to you." + +Menard held out his hand. Danton clasped it nervously, mumbling a +second apology. For a few moments longer they sat there, Menard trying +to set Danton at ease, but the boy was flushed, and he spoke only half +coherently. He soon excused himself and wandered off among the trees +and the thick bushes. + +During the next day Danton was in one of his sullen moods. He worked +feverishly, and, with the maid, kept Father Claude occupied for the +greater part of the time, as they paddled on, with conversation, and +with discussion of the Iroquois words. The maid felt the change from +the easy relations in the party, and seemed a little depressed, but +she threw herself into the studying. Often during the day she would +take up a paddle, and join in the stroke. At first Menard protested, +but she laughed, and said that it was a "rest" after sitting so long. + +They were delayed on the following day by a second accident to the +canoe, so that they were a full day late in reaching Montreal. They +moved slowly up the channel, past the islands and the green banks with +their little log-houses or, occasionally, larger dwellings built after +the French manner. St. Helen's Island, nearly opposite the city, had a +straggling cluster of hastily built bark houses, and a larger group of +tents where the regulars were encamped, awaiting the arrival of +Governor Denonville with the troops from Quebec. + +Menard stopped at the island, guiding the canoe to the bank where a +long row of canoes and bateaux lay close to the water. + +"You might get out and walk around," he said to the others. "I shall +be gone only a few moments." + +Father Claude sat on the bank, lost in meditation. Danton and the maid +walked together slowly up and down, beyond earshot from the priest. +Since Menard's rebuke, both the lad and the maid had shown a slight +trace of resentment. It did not come out in their conversation, but +rather in their silences, and in the occasions which they took to sit +and walk apart from the others. It was as if a certain common ground +of interest had come to them. The maid, for all her shyness and even +temper, was not accustomed to such cool authority as Menard was +developing. The priest was keeping an eye on the fast-growing +acquaintanceship, and already had it vaguely in mind to call it to the +attention of Menard, who was getting too deeply into the spirit and +the details of his work to give much heed. + +Menard was soon back. + +"Push off," he said. "The Major is not here. We shall have to look for +him in the city." + +They headed across the stream. The city lay before them, on its gentle +slope, with the mountain rising behind like an untiring sentry. It was +early in the afternoon, and on the river were many canoes and small +boats, filled with soldiers, friendly Indians, or _voyageurs_, moving +back and forth between the island and the city. They passed close to +many of the bateaux, heaped high with provision and ammunition bales, +and more than once the lounging soldiers rose and saluted Menard. + +At the city wharf he turned to Danton. + +"We shall have to get a larger canoe, Danton, and a stronger. Will you +see to it, please? We shall have two more in our party from now on. +Make sure that the canoe is in the best of condition. Also I wish you +would see to getting the rope and the other things we may need in +working through the rapids. Then spend your time as you like. We shall +start early in the morning." + +Menard and Father Claude together went with the maid to the Superior, +who arranged for her to pass the night with the sisters. Then Menard +left the priest to make his final arrangements at the Mission, and +went himself to see the Commandant, to whom he outlined the bare facts +of his journey to Frontenac. + +"The thing that most concerns you," he said finally, "is a meeting I +had a few days ago with three Indians down the river. One called +himself the Long Arrow, and another was Teganouan, who, Father de +Casson tells me, recently left the Mission at the Sault St. Francis +Xavier. They claim to be Mission Indians. It will be well to watch +out for them, and to have an eye on the Richelieu, and the other +routes, to make sure that they don't slip away to the south with +information." + +"Very well," replied the Commandant. "I imagine that we can stop them. +Do you feel safe about taking this maid up the river just now?" + +"Oh, yes. Our men are scattered along the route, are they not?" Menard +asked. + +"Quite a number are out establishing Champigny's transport system." + +"I don't look for any trouble. But I should like authority for one or +two extra men." + +"Take anything you wish, Menard. I will get word over to the island at +once, giving you all the authority you need." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +DANTON BREAKS OUT. + + +When Menard reached the wharf, early on the following morning, he +found Father Claude waiting for him. The new canoe lay on the wharf, +and beside it was a heap of stores. Perrot and the two new _engages_ +sat on the edge of the wharf. The sun had just risen over the trees on +St. Helen's Island, and the air was clear and cool. + +"Well, Perrot," said Menard, as he unslung his musket and horn, "is +everything ready?" + +"Everything, M'sieu." + +"Where is Guerin?" + +"I have not seen him, M'sieu." + +Menard turned to the priest. + +"Good-morning, Father. You are on time, I see; and that is more than +we can say for Danton. Where is the boy?" + +"He has gone for Mademoiselle St. Denis, Captain. He was here before +the sunrise, checking up the stores." + +"Learning to work, is he? That is a good sign. And how about yourself? +Did you pick up anything yesterday?" + +"Yes," replied the priest. "I enquired at the Mission about Teganouan +and his companions." + +"Well?" + +"Nothing is known of them. Teganouan had been one of the worst +drunkards among the Onondagas, and his conversion, a year ago, was +thought to be one of our greatest victories for the faith. His +penances were among the most complete and purging ever--" + +"And the others?" + +"Just before I left the Mission for Quebec, Teganouan went on an +errand to the city and fell among some of our fellow-countrymen who +were having a drinking bout. For a few days after that he wavered, and +fell again. Once afterward he was seen in company with two low +fellows, _coureurs de bois_, who have since been confined under +suspicion of communicating with the enemy." + +"He has returned to the Mission, then?" + +"No, he disappeared some time ago. They do not know the Long Arrow. I +described him to Brother de Lamberville--" + +"Oh, he is here now?" + +"Yes. It seems, further, that all the other workers among the Iroquois +have had word and are returning. That much of my labour is removed." + +"How do they get this word?" said Menard, impatiently. "That is the +old question. It is enough to make one wonder if there are any secrets +kept from the enemy's country." + +"No one seems to know, M'sieu. The Superior told me last night that +they had not been sent for, so it would seem that the information must +have reached them through the Indians." + +"The folly of these new governors!" Menard strode back and forth. "Oh, +it makes one sigh for old Frontenac. He never walked blindfolded into +such a trap as this. But go on. You were speaking of Father de +Lamberville." + +"It was only that I described the Long Arrow to Brother de Lamberville. +He seemed to remember such a wampum collar as the Long Arrow wore. He +could not recall exactly." + +"Then we may as well forget the incident. It seems that we are to know +nothing of it. Here is Danton." + +The lieutenant and the maid were walking rapidly down to the wharf. +Mademoiselle was in a gay mood after her few hours of enjoyment among +the comforts of a city. + +"Good-morning," she called, waving her hand. + +"Good-morning," said Menard, shortly. He did not look a second time, +to see her smile fade, for Guerin had not appeared, and he was rapidly +losing patience. He walked up and down the wharf for a few moments, +while Danton found a seat for the maid and the two talked together. + +"Perrot," he said, "do you know where Guerin was last evening?" + +"Yes, M'sieu. He was at the inn." + +"What was he doing? Drinking?" + +"A little, M'sieu." + +"Go up there, on the run. If you don't find him there, come right +back, for we can't wait much longer for anyone." + +Perrot ran up the street and disappeared. In a few moments he came in +sight, striding down between the row of houses, holding Guerin firmly +by one arm. The young fellow was hanging back, and stumbling in limp +fashion. He was evidently drunk. Danton, who had joined Menard when +the two men appeared, said, "Heavens, he must have started early!" + +Some distance behind Perrot and Guerin came a ragged crowd of +woodsmen, singing, jeering, and shouting, and bearing broad traces of +a sleepless night. + +Menard stood waiting with a look of disgust. When they came upon the +wharf Guerin laughed, and tried to get out a flippant apology for his +tardiness; but Menard seized him before the words were off his lips, +and dragging him across the wharf threw him into the water. Then he +turned to Perrot, and said, "Pull him out." + +The two new men stood uneasily near, with startled faces. Behind them +the maid was sitting, a frightened look in her eyes. Danton had +risen. + +"Clear away from here!" Menard called to the drunken rabble, who had +collected a few rods away, and were now hesitating between laughter +and fright. They stood looking at each other and at Menard, then they +slunk away. + +In all an hour had gone before they were ready to start. Guerin was +weak and shivering from his plunge, but Menard ordered him into the +canoe. The incident drew a cloud over the maid's spirits, and +altogether depressed the party, so that not until afternoon did they +get into conversation. By that time they were past the Lachine Rapids +and the Sault St. Louis, where the men made a portage, and Danton led +the maid along the bank through the tangled brush and briers. When at +last they were ready to push on across Lake St. Louis the maid's skirt +was torn in a dozen places, and a thorn had got into her hand, which +Danton carefully removed with the point of his knife, wincing and +flushing with her at each twinge of pain. During the rest of the day, +they had an Iroquois lesson, and by the end of the afternoon when the +sun was low, and Menard headed for the shore of Isle Perrot, the maid +was bright again, laughing over Danton's blunders in the new +language. + +They spent the next day on the island, for what with wind and rain +the lake was impassable for their canoe. The men built a hut of brush +and bark which sheltered the party from the driving rain. Menard's +mood lightened at the prospect of a rest, and he started a long +conversation in Iroquois which soon had even Father Claude laughing +in his silent way. The rain lessened in the afternoon, but the wind +was still running high. Menard and the _engages_ went out early in +the afternoon and repacked all the supplies, in order that the +weight might be distributed more evenly in the canoe. With this and +other work he was occupied until late in the afternoon. Father Claude +took the occasion for a solitary walk, and for meditation. When Menard +entered the hut he found the maid sitting with her head resting +against one of the supporting trees. She wore a disturbed, unsettled +expression. Danton evidently had been sitting or standing near her, +for when Menard entered, stooping, he was moving across the hut in a +hesitating, conscious manner. The Captain looked at them curiously. + +"I'm afraid we'll have to take away a part of your house to pay for +your supper," he said. "Everything is wet outside that might do for +firewood. Lend a hand, Danton." He gathered logs and sticks from the +floor and walls, and carried them out. Danton, after a quick look +toward the maid (which, of course, Menard saw), did the same. + +The Captain was the first to reenter the hut. The maid had not moved, +and her eyes were puzzled and wearied, but she tried to smile. + +"Has it stopped raining?" she asked. + +Menard gave her an amused glance, and pointed to a sparkling beam of +sunlight that came slanting in through an opening in the wall, and +buried itself in a little pool of light on the trampled ground. She +looked at it, flushed, and turned her eyes away. He stood for a +moment, half minded to ask the question that was on his tongue, but +finally held it back. In a moment Danton came back, looking +suspiciously at each of them as he stooped to gather another armful of +wood. + +Menard was thoughtful during the evening meal. Afterward he slipped +his arm through Father Claude's, and led him for a short walk, giving +him an account of the incident. "I didn't say anything at the time," +he concluded, "partly because I thought I might be mistaken, and +partly because it would have been the worst thing I could do. I begin +to see--I should have foreseen it before I spoke to him about the +girl--that we have trouble ahead, Father, with these precious +children. I confess I don't know just what to do about it. We must +think it over. Anyway, you had better talk to her. She would tell you +what she wouldn't tell me. If he's annoying her, we must know it." + +Father Claude was troubled. + +"The maid is in our care," he said, "and also in that of Lieutenant +Danton. It would seem that he--" + +"There's no use in expecting him to take any responsibility, Father." + +"Yes, I suppose you are right. He is a child." + +"Will you go to the maid, Father, and get straight at the truth? You +see that I cannot meddle with her thoughts without danger of being +misinterpreted. It is you who must be her adviser." + +The priest acquiesced, and they returned to the camp, to find the maid +still sitting alone, with a troubled face, and Danton puttering about +the fire with a show of keeping himself occupied. They ate in silence, +in spite of Menard's efforts to arouse them. After the meal they hung +about, each hesitating to wander away, and yet seeing no pleasure in +gathering about the fire. Menard saw that Father Claude had it in mind +to speak to the maid, so he got Danton away on a pretext of looking +over the stores. But he said nothing of the episode that was in all +their minds, preferring to await the priest's report. + +After the maid had gone to her couch beneath the canoe, and Danton had +wandered into the wilderness that was all about them, Father Claude +joined Menard at the fire. + +"Well, Father, what word?" + +"Softly, M'sieu. It is not likely that she sleeps as yet." + +"Well?" + +"I have talked long with her, but she is of a stubborn mind." + +"How is that?" + +"She was angry at first. She spoke hastily, and asked me in short +terms to leave her in solitude. And then, after a time, when she began +to see that it was her welfare and our duty which I had in mind, and +not an idle curiosity, she was moved." + +"Did she speak then?" + +"No, M'sieu, she wept, and insisted that there was no trouble on her +mind,--it was merely the thought of her home and her father that had +cast her down." + +"And so she has pride," mused Menard. "Could you gather any new +opinions, Father? Do you think that they may already have come to some +understanding?" + +"I hardly think so, M'sieu. But may I suggest that it would be well to +be firm with Lieutenant Danton? He is young, and the maid is in our +trust," + +"True, Father. I will account for him." + +There seemed to be nothing further to do at the moment, so the priest +went to his blanket, and Menard drew a bundle under his head and went +to sleep, after a glance about the camp to see that the sentry was on +watch. Now that Montreal lay behind, and the unsettled forest before, +with only a thin line of Frenchmen stretched along the river between +them and Fort Frontenac, he had divided the night into watches, and +each of the four _engages_ stood his turn. + +The following day was all but half gone before the wind had dropped to +a rate that made the passage of the lake advisable. Menard ordered the +noon meal for an hour earlier than usual, and shortly afterward they +set out across the upper end of Lake St. Louis to the foot of the +cascades. Before the last bundle had been carried up the portage to +Buisson Pointe, the dusk was settling over the woods across the river, +and over the rising ground on Isle Perrot at the mouth of the Ottawa. + +During the next day they passed on up the stream to the Coteau des +Cedres. Menard and Father Claude were both accustomed to take the +rapid without carrying, or even unloading, but Danton looked at the +swirling water with doubt in his eyes. When the maid, leaning back in +the canoe while the men halted at the bank to make fast for the +passage, saw the torrent that tumbled and pitched merrily down toward +them, she laughed. To hold a sober mood for long was not in her +buoyant nature, and she welcomed a dash of excitement as a relief from +the strained relations of the two days just gone. + +"M'sieu," she called to Menard, with a sparkle in her eyes. "Oh, +M'sieu, may I stay in the canoe?" + +Danton turned quickly at the sound of her voice, and a look, half of +pain, half of surprise, came over his face as he saw her eagerness. +Menard looked at her in doubt. + +"It may be a wet passage, Mademoiselle." + +"And why not, M'sieu? Have I not been wet before? See, I will protect +myself." She drew the bundles closely about her feet, and threw a +blanket across her knees. "Now I can brave the stream, Captain. +Or,"--her gay tone dropped, and she looked demurely at him,--"perhaps +it is that I am too heavy, that I should carry myself up the bank. I +will obey my orders, Captain." But as she spoke she tucked the blanket +closer about her, and stole another glance at Menard. + +He smiled. He was thinking of Madame Gordeau and her fragile daughter, +who had shuddered with fear at a mere glimpse of the first rapid. +"Very well," he said, "Mademoiselle shall stay in the canoe." + +"But it is not safe"--broke in Danton, stepping forward. Then, +conscious of the blunder, he turned away, and took up the rope. + +"Lay hold, boys," said Menard. + +Perrot and one of the new men waded into the water, and laid hold of +the gunwales on each side of the bow. Menard himself took the stern. +He called to Danton, who stood awkwardly upon the bank, "Take the rope +with the men." + +Guerin made the rope fast and set out ahead, with the other men and +Danton close behind. Father Claude rolled up his robe and joined +them. + +"Wait," called Menard, as the rope straightened. "Mademoiselle, I am +sorry to disturb you, but if you will sit farther back you will have +less trouble from the spray." He waded along the side, and helped her +to move nearer the stern, placing the bundles and the blanket about +her as before. Then he shouted, "All right," and they started into the +foaming water. + +They toiled slowly up the incline, catching at rocks to steady their +course, and often struggling for a foothold. Once Menard ordered a +halt at a large rock, and all rested for a moment. + +When they started again, the men at the bow of the canoe had some +trouble in holding it steady, for their feet were on a stretch of +smooth rock, and Menard called Danton back to help them. The boy +worked his way along the rope, and reached the bow. + +"Come around behind Perrot," said Menard. + +Danton reached around Perrot's body, and caught hold of the gunwale. +At that moment his foot slipped, and he fell, dragging the side of the +canoe down with him. The men at the bow did their best to prevent a +capsize, but succeeded only in keeping half the bundles in the canoe. +The others, the muskets, and the maid went into the river. + +Menard moved forward as rapidly as he could against the current. The +maid was unable at once to get her feet, used as she was to the water, +and was swept down against him. He caught her, and, steadying himself +with one hand, by the water-logged canoe, raised her head and held her +while she struggled for a footing and shook the water from her eyes. +Before she was wholly herself, Danton came plunging toward them. + +"Give her to me!" he said huskily. "I've drowned her! My God, let me +have her!" + +"Stop," said Menard, sternly. "Take the men, and go after those +bales--quick!" + +Danton looked stupidly at him and at the maid, who was wiping the +water from her face with one hand, and holding tightly to the Captain. +Then he followed Perrot, who had already, with the two new men and +Father Claude, commenced to get together the bales, most of which had +sunk, and were moving slowly along the bottom. Menard still had his +arm about the girl's shoulders. He helped her to the shore. + +"Keep moving, Mademoiselle,--don't sit down. In a moment we shall have +a fire. Father Claude," he called, "bring the canoe ashore." Then to +the maid, "There are yet some dry blankets, thank God." + +Mademoiselle was herself now, and she protested. "But it is only +water, M'sieu. Let me go on with you, beyond the rapids." + +Menard merely shook his head. The canoe was soon on the bank, and +emptied of water. The other men were beginning to come in with soaked +bundles and dripping muskets. Each bale was opened, and the contents +spread out to dry, while Guerin was set to work at drying the muskets +with a cloth. Perrot and Danton built a rough shelter for the maid, +enclosing a small fire, and gave her some dry blankets. Then each man +dried himself as best he could. + +This accident threw Danton into a fit of gloominess from which nothing +seemed to arouse him. He was careless of his duty, and equally +careless to the reprimands that followed. This went on for two days, +during which the maid seemed at one moment to avoid him, and at +another to watch for his coming. In the evening of the second day +following, the party camped at Pointe a Baudet, on Lake St. Francis. +The supper was eaten in a silence more oppressive than usual, for +neither Menard nor Father Claude could overcome the influence of +Danton's heavy face and the maid's troubled eyes. After the supper the +two strolled away, and sat just out of earshot on a mossy knoll. For +hours they talked there, their voices low, save once or twice when +Danton's rose. They seemed to have lost all count of time, all heed of +appearances. Menard and the priest made an effort at first to appear +unobservant, but later, seeing that their movements were beyond the +sight of those unheeding eyes, they took to watching and speculating +on the course of the conversation. The night came on, and the dark +closed over them. Still the murmur of those low voices floated across +the camp. + +Father Claude, with a troubled mind, went down to the water, and +walked slowly up and down. Menard saw to the final preparations for +the night, and posted the first sentry. Then he joined the priest. + +"Father?" + +"Yes." + +"I think it is time to speak." + +"I fear it is, M'sieu." + +"I must leave it in your hands." + +"Shall I go now?" + +"Yes." + +Without further words, Father Claude walked up the bank, crackling +through the bushes. From this spot the voices were inaudible, and for +a few moments there was no sound. Then Menard could hear some one +moving heavily through the undergrowth, going farther and farther into +the stillness, and he knew that it was Danton. He sat on the bank with +his back against a tree, and waited for a long hour. At last he +dropped asleep. + +He was awakened by Father Claude. The priest dropped to the ground +beside him. His training had given Menard the faculty of awaking +instantly into full grasp of a situation. + +"Well," he said. "Where is the maid?" + +"She has gone to her couch, but not to sleep, I fear. It has come, +M'sieu." + +"What has come?" + +"Danton has lost his senses. He asks her to marry him, to flee with +him. It is a difficult case. She has had no such experience before, +and knows not how to receive him. She seems to have no love for him, +beyond the pleasure his flattery has given her. She believes all he +says. One thing I know, aside from all questions of expediency, of +care for our trust, this must not go on." + +"Not for the present, at least. She may do what she will, once we have +taken her safely to Frontenac." + +"No, M'sieu; not even then. We must stop it at once." + +"Oh, of course," said Menard; "so far as we are concerned, we have no +choice. You need not bother longer to-night. I will wait for the boy. +I am sorry for him." + +"I should have more pity, if I knew less of his past." + +"Tush, Father! He is not a bad fellow, as they go. To be sure he does +not rise any too well to new responsibilities, but he will grow into +it. It is better an honest infatuation with the daughter of a +gentleman than a dishonest one with an Indian maid. And you know our +officers, Father. God knows, they are all bad enough; and yet they are +loyal fellows." + +"Ah, M'sieu, I fear you will be too lenient with him. Believe me, we +have not a minute to waste in stopping the affair." + +"Have no fear, Father. Good-night." + +"Good-night." + +Menard lay on the bank, gazing at the sparkling water, and listening +to the slow step of the sentry and to the deeper sounds of the forest. +Another hour crept by, and still Danton had not returned. Menard +walked about the camp to make sure that he was not already rolled in +his blanket; then he went to the sentry, who was leaning against a +tree a few rods away. + +"Colin," he said, "have you seen Lieutenant Danton?" + +"Yes, M'sieu. He is up there." Colin pointed through the trees that +fringed the river. "I heard a noise some time ago, and went up to see. +He is lying under a beech tree, if he has not moved,--and I should +have heard him if he had. It may be that he is asleep." + +Menard nodded, and walked slowly along the bank, bending aside the +briers that caught at his clothes and his hands. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE FIGHT AT LA GALLETTE. + + +Danton was lying on the ground, but he was not asleep. He looked up, +at the sound of Menard's footsteps, and then, recognizing him, lowered +his eyes again. The Captain hesitated, standing over the prostrate +figure. + +"Danton," he said finally, "I want you to tell me the truth." + +The boy made no reply, and Menard, after waiting for a moment, sat +upon a log. + +"I have decided to do rather an unusual thing, Danton," he said +slowly, "in offering to talk it over with you as a friend, and not as +an officer. In one thing you must understand me: Mademoiselle St. +Denis has been intrusted to my care, and until she has safely reached +those who have a right to share the direction of her actions, I can +allow nothing of this sort to go on. You must understand that. If you +will talk with me frankly, and try to control yourself for the +present, it may be that I can be of service to you later on." + +There was a long silence. Finally, Danton spoke, without raising his +head. + +"Is there need of this, M'sieu? Is it not enough that she--that +Mademoiselle dismisses me?" + +"Oh," said Menard, "that is it?" + +"Yes." + +"You are sure of yourself, Danton? sure that you have not made a +mistake?" + +"A mistake?" The boy looked up wildly. "I was--shall I tell you, +M'sieu?--I left the camp to-night with the thought that I should never +go back." + +Menard looked at him curiously. + +"What did you plan to do?" + +"I didn't know,--I don't know now. Back to Montreal, perhaps to the +Iroquois. I don't care where." + +"You did not bring your musket. It would hardly be safe." + +"Safe!" There was weary contempt in the boy's voice. He sat up, and +made an effort to steady himself, leaning back upon his hands. "I +should not say this. It was what I thought at first. I am past it now; +I can think better. It was only your coming,--when I first saw you, it +came rushing back, and I wanted to--oh, what is the use? You do not +know. You cannot understand." + +"And now?" + +"Now, Captain, I ask for a release. Let me go back to Montreal." + +"How would you go? You have no canoe." + +"I will walk." + +Menard shook his head. + +"I am sorry," he said, "but it is too late. In the first place, you +would never reach the city. There are scouting bands of Iroquois all +along the river." + +"So much the better, M'sieu, so--" + +"Wait. That is only one reason. I cannot spare you. I have realized +within the last day that I should have brought more men. The Iroquois +know of our campaign; they are watching us. A small party like this is +to their liking. I will tell you, Danton, we may have a close rub +before we get to Frontenac. I wish I could help you, but I cannot. +What reason could I give for sending you alone down the river to +Montreal? You forget, boy, that we are not on our own pleasure; we are +on the King's errand. For you to go now would be to take away one of +our six fighting men,--to imperil Mademoiselle. And that, I think," he +looked keenly at Danton, "is not what you would wish to do." + +The boy's face was by turns set and working. He looked at Menard as if +to speak, but got nothing out. At last he sprang to his feet, and +paced back and forth between the trees. + +"What can I do?" he said half to himself. "I can't stay! I can't see +her every day, and hear her voice, and sit with her at every meal. Why +do you call yourself my friend, Menard? Why don't you help? Why don't +you say something--?" + +"There are some things, Danton, that a man must fight out alone." + +Danton turned away, and stood looking over the river. Menard sat on +the log and waited. The moments slipped by, and still they said +nothing. They could hear the stirring of Colin, back at the camp, and +the rustle of the low night breeze. They could almost hear the great +silent rush of the river. + +"Danton." + +The boy half turned his head. + +"You will stay here and play the man. You will go on with your duties; +though, if the old arrangement be too hard, I will be your master in +the Iroquois study, leaving Mademoiselle to Father Claude. And now you +must return to the camp and get what sleep you can. Heaven knows we +may have little enough between here and Frontenac. Come." + +He got up, and walked to the camp, without looking around. Danton +lingered until the Captain's tall figure was blending with the shadows +of the forest, then he went after. + +During the following day they got as far as the group of islands at +the head of Lake St. Francis. Wherever possible Menard was now +selecting islands or narrow points for the camp, where, in case of a +night attack, defence would be a simple problem for his few men. Also, +each night, he had the men spread a circle of cut boughs around the +camp at a little distance, so that none could approach without some +slight noise. Another night saw the party at the foot of Petit +Chesneaux, just above Pointe Maligne. + +While Perrot was preparing the supper, and Danton, with the +_voyageurs_, was unpacking the bales, Menard took his musket and +strode off into the forest. There was seldom a morning now that the +maid did not have for her breakfast a morsel of game which the +Captain's musket had brought down. + +In half an hour he returned, and sought Father Claude; and after a few +low words the two set off. Menard led the way through thicket and +timber growth, over a low hill, and down into a hollow, where a +well-defined Indian trail crossed a brook. Here was a large sugar +maple tree standing in a narrow opening in the thicket. Menard struck +a light, and held up a torch so that the priest could make out a +blaze-mark on the tree. + +"See," said Menard. "It is on the old trail. I saw it by the merest +chance." + +Father Claude bent forward, with his eyes close to the inscription +that had been painted on the white inner bark, with charcoal and +bear's grease. + +"Can you read it?" asked Menard, holding the torch high. + +The priest nodded. Both of these men knew the Indian writing nearly as +well as their own French. + + [Transcriber's Note: An illustration of picture-writing appears + here in the text with the following caption: + + NOTE.--By this picture-writing the Long Arrow (of the clan of the + Beaver) tells the Beaver (of the same clan) that he has taken up + the hatchet against the party in the canoe, and he asks the Beaver + to assist him. The parallel zigzag lines under the long arrow tell + that he is travelling by the river, and the two straight lines + under these that he has two warriors with him. The attack is to be + made in either three or four sleeps, or days, as indicated by the + three finished huts and one unfinished. + + The Beaver has seen this sign, as shown by his signature at the + bottom. The seventeen slanting lines under the foot mean that he + has seventeen warriors and they are travelling on foot, southward, + as shown by the fact that the lines slope toward the sun. + + That the figures in the canoe are French is shown by their hats. + The priest has no paddle, the maid is represented with long + hair.] + +"He does not know of the two men you got at Montreal, M'sieu. He tells +of only six in our canoe." + +"No? But that matters little. The Beaver has hurried after him with +nearly a score. They can give us trouble enough. What do you make of +the huts? Do they mean three days or four?" + +"It looks to me," said the priest slowly, "that he was interrupted in +drawing the fourth." + +"Well,"--Menard threw his torch into the brook, and turned away into +the dusk of the thicket,--"we know enough. The fight will be somewhere +near the head of the rapids. Perhaps they will wait until we get on +into the islands." + +"And meantime," said the priest, as they crackled through the +undergrowth, "we shall say nothing of this to Lieutenant Danton or the +maid?" + +"Nothing," Menard replied. + +In three days more they had passed Rapide Flat, after toiling +laboriously by the Long Sault. They were a sober enough party now, +oppressed with Danton's dogged attention to duty and with the maid's +listless manner. + +They were passing a small island the next morning, when Perrot gave a +shout and stopped paddling. + +"What is it?" asked Menard, sharply. + +Perrot pointed across a spit of land. In the other channel they could +see a bateau just disappearing behind a clump of trees. It was headed +down-stream. Menard swung the canoe about, and they skirted the foot +of the island. Instead of a single bateau there were some half dozen, +drifting light down the river, with a score of _coureurs de bois_ and +_voyageurs_ under the command of a bronzed lieutenant, Du Peron, a +sergeant, and a corporal. The lieutenant recognized Menard, and both +parties landed while the two officers exchanged news. + +"Can you spare me a few men?" Menard asked, when they had drawn apart +from the others. + +The lieutenant's eye roamed over the group on the beach, where the men +of both parties were mingling. + +"How many do you want? I'm running shorthanded. We have all we can +manage with these bateaux." + +"There's a war party of twenty on my trail," said Menard. "If I had my +own men with me I should feel safe, but I have my doubts about these +fellows. I haven't room for more than two." + +"What's the trouble?--that La Grange affair?" + +Menard nodded. + +"I heard that they had a price on your head. There's been a good deal +of talk about it at Frontenac. A converted Mohawk has been scouting +for us, and he says that the Onondagas blame you for that whole galley +business." + +"I know," said Menard, grimly. "You could hardly expect them to get +the truth of it." + +"It was bad work, Menard, bad work. The worst thing La Grange did was +to butcher the women and children. He was drunk at the time, and the +worst of it was over before d'Orvilliers got wind of it. Do you know +who is leading this war party?" + +"The Long Arrow." + +"Oh, yes. A big fellow, with a rather noticeable wampum collar. He +came to Frontenac as a Mission Indian, but got away before we +suspected anything. Our scout told me that his son was in the party +that was taken to the galleys. He's been scouting along the river ever +since. Likely as not he followed you down to Quebec. How many men have +you now?" + +"Five, and Father Claude." + +"He could shoot at a pinch, I suppose. I'll let you have the best two +I have, but--" Du Peron shrugged his shoulders--"you know the sort +that are assigned for this transport work. They're a bad lot at best. +But they can shoot, and they hate the Iroquois, so you're all right if +you can keep them sober. That will make nine, with yourself,--it +should be enough." + +"It will be enough. How is the transport moving?" + +"Splendidly. Whatever we may say about the new Governor, our Intendant +knows his business. I judge from the way he is stocking up Frontenac, +that we are to use it as the base for a big campaign." + +"I suppose so. You will report, will you, at Montreal, that we were +safe at Rapide Flat? And if you find a _coureur_ going down to Quebec, +I wish you would send word to Provost that Mademoiselle St. Denis is +well and in good spirits." + +The lieutenant looked curiously at the maid, who was walking with +Father Claude near the canoe. Then the two officers shook hands, and +in a few moments were going their ways, Menard with two villainous +_voyageurs_ added to his crew. That afternoon he passed the last +rapid, and beached the canoe at La Gallette, thankful that nothing +intervened between them and Fort Frontenac but a reach of still water +and the twining channels of the Thousand Islands, where it would call +for the sharpest eyes ever set in an Iroquois head to follow his +movements. + +They ate an early supper, and immediately afterward Father Claude +slipped away. The maid looked after him a little wistfully, then she +wandered to the bank, and found a mossy seat where she could watch the +long rapid, with its driving, foaming current that dashed over the +ledges and leaped madly around the jagged rocks. Menard set his men at +work preparing the camp against attack. When this was well under way +he called Danton, who was lying by the fire, and spent an hour with +him conversing in Iroquois. By that time the twilight was creeping +down the river. Menard left the boy to form a speech in accord with +Iroquois tradition, and went on a tour of inspection about the camp. +The new men had swung thoroughly into the spirit of their work; one of +them was already on guard a short way back in the woods. The other men +were grouped in a cleared place, telling stories and singing. + +Father Claude came hurriedly toward the fire, looking for Menard. His +eyes glowed with enthusiasm. + +"M'sieu," he said, in an eager voice, "come. I have found it." + +"What?" + +"It has come to me,--about the canoe." + +Menard looked puzzled, but the priest caught his arm, and led him +away. + +"It came while we ate supper. The whole truth, the secret of the +allegory, flashed upon me. I have worked hard, and now it is done. +Instead of leaving out the canoe, I have put it back, and have placed +in it six warriors, three paddling toward the chapel, and three away +from it. Over them hovers an angel,--a mere suggestion, a faint, +shining face, a diaphanous form, and outspread hands. Thus we +symbolize the conflict in the savage mind at the first entrance of the +Holy Word into their lives, with the blessed assurance over all that +the Faith must triumph in the end." + +At the last words, he stopped and drew Menard around to face the +portrait of the Lily of the Onondagas, which was leaning against a +stump. + +"Is it too dark, M'sieu? See, I will bring it closer." He lifted the +picture, and held it close to Menard's eyes. He was trembling with the +excitement of his inspiration. + +The Captain stepped back. + +"I should like to know, Father, where you have had this picture." + +"It was in my bundle. I have"--for the first time he saw the sternness +in Menard's face, and his voice faltered. + +"You did not leave it at Montreal?" + +Father Claude slowly lowered the canvas to the ground. The light had +gone out of his eyes, and his face was white. Then suddenly his thin +form straightened. "I had forgotten. It was M'sieu's order. See,"--he +suddenly lifted the picture over his head and whirled to the +stump,--"it shall go no farther. We will leave it here for the wolves +and the crows and the pagan redmen." + +He dashed it down with all his strength, but Menard sprang forward, +and caught it on his outstretched arm. "No, Father," he said; "we will +take it with us." + +The priest smiled wearily, and lowered the picture to the ground; but +when Menard said, "You have broken it," he raised it hastily, and +examined it. One corner of the wooden frame was loosened, but the +canvas was not injured. + +"I can mend it," he said. + +Then they walked to the camp together, without talking; and Menard +helped him repair the frame, and pack the picture carefully. + +"How is it that it was not ruined in the capsize at Coteau des +Cedres?" Menard asked. + +"It was preserved by a miracle, M'sieu. This bundle did not leave the +canoe." + +The _voyageurs_, still lounging in the clearing, were laughing and +talking noisily. The Captain, after he had prepared the maid's couch, +and bade her good-night, called to them to be quiet. For a time the +noise ceased, but a little later, as he was spreading his blanket on +the ground, it began again, and one of the transport men sang the +opening strain of a ribald song. Menard strode over to the group so +quickly that he took them by surprise. Colin was slipping something +behind him, but he could not escape Menard's eye. In a moment he was +sprawling on his face, and a brandy flask was brought to light. Menard +dashed it against a tree, and turned to the frightened men. + +"Go to your blankets, every man of you. There are Iroquois on this +river. You have already made enough noise to draw them from half a +league away. The next man that is caught drinking will be flogged." He +thought of the maid lying under her frail shelter, for whose life he +was responsible. "If it occurs twice, he will be shot. Perrot, I want +you to join the sentry. From now on we shall have two men on guard all +night. See that there is no mistake about this. At the slightest +noise, you will call me." + +The men slunk to their blankets, and soon the camp was still. + +The river sang as it rushed down its zigzag channel through the +rocks,--a song that seemed a part of the night, and yet was distinct +from the creeping, rustling, dropping, all-pervading life and stir of +the forest. Every leaf, every twig and root, every lump of sod and +rock-held pool of stagnant water, had its own miniature world, where +living things were fighting the battle of life. In the far distance, +perhaps, an owl hooted; or near at hand a flying squirrel alighted on +a bending elm-twig. Deer and moose followed their beaten tracks to the +streams that had been theirs before ever Frenchman pierced the forest; +beaver dove into their huts above the dams their own sharp teeth had +made; moles nosed under the rich soil, and left a winding track +behind; frogs croaked and bellowed from some backset of the +river,--and all blended, not, perhaps, so much into a sound, as into a +sense of movement,--an even murmur in a low key, to which the lighter +note of the water was apart and distinct. + +To a man trained as Menard had been, this was companionship. He was +never alone in the forest, never without his millions of friends, who, +though they seldom came into his thoughts, were yet a part of him, of +his sense of life and strength. And through all these noises, even to +the roar of Niagara itself, he could sleep like a child, when the +slightest sound of a moccasined foot on a dry leaf would have aroused +him at the instant to full activity. To-night he lay awake for a long +time. With every day that he drew nearer the frontier came graver +doubts of the feasibility of the plan which had been intrusted to him. +The wretched business of La Grange's treachery and the stocking of the +King's galleys had probably alienated the Onondagas for all time. +Their presence on the St. Lawrence pointed to this. He felt safe +enough, personally, for the very imprudence of the Governor's +campaign, which had made it known so early to all the Iroquois, was an +element in his favour. The Iroquois, unlike many of the roaming +western tribes, had their settled villages, with lodges and fields of +grain to defend from invasion. One secret of the campaign had been +well kept; no one save the Governor's staff and Menard knew that the +blow was to fall on the Senecas alone. And Menard was certain enough +in his knowledge of Iroquois character to believe that each tribe, +from the Mohawks on the east to the Senecas on the west, would call in +its warriors, and concentrate to defend its villages. Therefore there +could be no strong force on the St. Lawrence, where the French could +so easily cut it off. As for the Long Arrow and his band, eight good +fighting men and a stout-hearted priest could attend to them. + +No, the danger would begin after the maid was safe at Frontenac, and +he and Danton and Father Claude must set out to win the confidence of +the Onondagas. The Oneidas and Mohawks must not be slighted; but the +Onondagas and Cayugas, being the nearest to the Senecas, and between +them and the other nations, would likely prove to be the key to the +situation. + +The night was black when he awoke. Clouds had spread over the sky, +hiding all but a strip in the west where a low line of stars peeped +out. This strip was widening rapidly as the night breeze carried the +clouds eastward. At a little distance some of the men were whispering +together and laughing softly. A hand was feeling his arm, and a voice +whispered,-- + +"Quick, M'sieu; something has happened!" + +"Is that you, Colin?" + +"Yes. Guerin was on guard with me, and he fell. I thought I heard an +arrow, but could not be sure. I looked for him after I heard him fall, +but could not find him in the dark." + +Menard sprang to his feet, with his musket, which had lain at his side +every night since leaving Montreal. + +"Where was Guerin, Colin?" + +"Straight back from the river, a few rods. He had spoken but a moment +before. It must have told them where to shoot." + +"Call the men, and draw them close in a circle." Menard felt his way +toward the fire, where a few red embers showed dimly, and roused +Danton with a light touch and a whispered caution to be silent. +Already he could hear the low stir of the _engages_ as they slipped +nearer the fire. He walked slowly toward the river, with one hand +stretched out in front, to find the canoe. It was closer than he +supposed, and he stumbled over it, knocking one end off its support. +The maid awoke with a gasp. + +"Mademoiselle, silence!" he whispered, kneeling beside her. "I fear we +are attacked. You must come with me." He had to say it twice before +she could fully understand, and just then an arrow sang over them, and +struck a tree with a low _thut_. He suddenly rose and shouted, +"Together, boys! They will be on us in a moment. Close in at the bank, +and save your powder. Perrot, come here and help me with the canoe." + +There was a burst of yells from the dark in answer to his call, and a +few shots flashed. Danton was rallying the men, and calling to them to +fall back, where they could take cover among the rocks and trees of +the bank. + +The maid was silent, but she reached out her hand, and Menard, +catching her wrist, helped her to her feet, and fairly carried her +down the slope of the bank, laying her behind the tangled roots of a +great oak. Already the sky was clearer, and the trees and men were +beginning to take dim shape. The river rushed by, a deeper black than +sky and woods, with a few ghostly bits of white where the foam of the +rapids began. + +"Stay here," he whispered. "Don't move or speak. I shall not be far." + +She clung to his hand in a dazed manner, but he gently drew his away, +and left her crouching on the ground. + +The men were calling to one another as they dodged back from tree to +tree toward the river, shooting only when a flash from the woods +showed the position of an Indian. Some of them were laughing, and as +Menard reached the canoe Perrot broke into a jeering song. It was +clear that the attacking party was not strong. Probably they had not +taken into account the double guard, relying on the death of the +sentry to clear the way for a surprise. + +"Perrot!" called the Captain. "Why don't you come here?" + +The song stopped. There was a heavy noise as the _voyageur_ came +plunging through the bushes, drawing a shower of arrows and musket +balls. + +"Careful, Perrot, careful." + +"They can't hit me," said Perrot, laughing. He stumbled against the +Captain, stepped back, and fell over the canoe, rolling and kicking. +Menard sprang toward him and jerked him up. He smelled strongly of +brandy. + +Menard swore under his breath. + +"Pick up your musket. Take hold of that canoe,--quick!" + +Perrot was frightened by his stern words, and he succeeded in holding +up an end of the canoe, while Menard pushed him down the slope to +the water's edge. They rushed back, and in a few trips got down +most of the stores. By this time Perrot was sobering somewhat, and +with the Captain he took his place in the line. The men were +shooting more frequently now, and by their loose talk showed +increasing recklessness. Calling to Danton, Menard finally made +them understand his order to fall back. Before they reached the +bank, Colin dropped, with a ball through the head, and was dragged +back by Danton. + +They dropped behind logs and trees at the top of the slope. It began +to look as if the redmen were to get no closer, in spite of the +drunken condition of all but one or two of the men. Though the night +was now much brighter, they were in the shadow, and neither the +Captain nor Danton observed that the brandy which the transport men +had supplied was passing steadily from hand to hand. They could not +know that the boy Guerin lay on his back amid the attacking Onondagas, +an arrow sticking upright in his breast, one hand lying across his +musket, the other clasping a flask. + +The maid had not moved. She could be easily seen now in the clearer +light, and Menard went to her, feeling the need of giving her some +work to occupy her mind during the strain of the fight. + +"Mademoiselle," he whispered. + +She looked up. He could see that she was shivering. + +"I must ask you to help me. We must get the canoe into the water. They +will soon tire of the assault and withdraw; then it will be safe to +take to the canoe. They cannot hurt you. We are protected by the +bank." + +He helped her to rise, and she bravely threw her weight on the canoe, +which Menard could so easily have lifted alone, and stood at the edge +of the beach, passing him the bundles, which he, wading out, placed +aboard. But suddenly he stopped, with an exclamation, peering into the +canoe. + +The maid, dreading each moment some new danger, asked in a dry voice, +"What is it, M'sieu?" + +For reply he seized the bundles, one at a time, and tossed them +ashore, hauling the canoe after, and running his hand along the bark. + +The maid stepped to his side. There was a gaping hole in the side of +the canoe. She drew her breath in quickly, and looked up at him. + +"It was Perrot," he muttered, "that fool Perrot." He stood looking at +it, as if in doubt what to do. Up on the bank the men, Danton and +Father Claude among them, were popping away at the rustling bushes. +Suddenly he turned and gazed down at the maid's upturned face. +"Mademoiselle," he said, "I do not think there is danger, but whatever +happens you must keep close to me, or to Danton and Father Claude. It +may be that there will be moments when we cannot stop and explain to +you as I am doing now, but you must trust us, and believe that all +will come out well. The other men are not themselves to-night--" + +He stopped. It was odd that he should so talk to a maid while his men +were fighting for their lives; but the Menard who had the safety of +this slender girl in his hands was not the Menard of a hundred battles +gone by. So he lingered, not knowing why, save that he hoped for some +word from her lips of confidence in those who wished to protect her. +And, as he waited, she smiled with trembling lips, and said:-- + +"It will come out well, M'sieu. I--I am not afraid." + +Then Menard went up the bank with a bound, and finding one man already +in a stupor, and another struggling for a flask, which Father Claude +was trying to take away from him, he laid about him with his hard +fists, and shortly had the drunkards as near to their senses as they +were destined to be during the short space they had yet to live. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +A COMPLIMENT FOR MENARD. + + +Colin and Guerin were dead, and one of the transport men lay in a +drunken sleep, so that including Menard, Danton, and Father Claude +there were six men in the little half circle that clung to the edge of +the bank, shooting into the brush wherever a twig stirred or a musket +flashed. "There are not many of them," said Menard to Danton, as they +lay on their sides reloading. He listened to the whoops and barks in +an interval between shots. "Not a score, all told." + +"Will they come closer?" + +"No. You won't catch an Iroquois risking his neck in an assault. +They'll try to pick us off; but if we continue as strong as we are +now, they are likely to draw off and try some other devilment, or wait +for a better chance." + +Danton crept back to his log for another shot. Now that the sky was +nearly free of clouds, and the river was sparkling in the starlight, +the Frenchmen could not raise their heads to shoot without exposing a +dim silhouette to the aim of an Indian musket. Father Claude, who was +loading and firing a long _arquebuse a croc_, had risen above this +difficulty by heaping a pile of stones. Kneeling on the slope, a pace +below the others, and resting the crutch of his piece in a hollow +close to the stones, he could shoot through a crevice with little +chance of harm, beyond a bruised shoulder. + +The maid came timidly up the bank, and touched Menard's arm. + +"What is it, Mademoiselle? You must not come here. It is not safe." + +"I want to speak to you, M'sieu. If I could have your knife--for one +moment--" + +"What do you want of a knife, child? It is best that you--" There was +a fusillade from the brush, and his voice was lost in the uproar. "You +must wait below, on the beach. They cannot get to you." + +"It is the canoe, M'sieu. The cloth about the bales is stout,--I can +sew it over the hole." + +Menard looked at her as she crouched by his side; her hair fallen +about her face and shoulders; her hands, grimy with the clay of the +bank, clinging to a wandering root. She was still trembling with +excitement, but her eyes were bright and eager. Without a word he drew +his knife from its sheath, and held it out. She took it, and was down +the slope with a light spring, while the Captain poked the muzzle of +his musket through the leaves. As he drew it back, after firing, he +caught a glimpse of Danton's face, turned toward him with a curious +expression. The boy laughed nervously, and wiped the sweat from his +blackened forehead. "They don't give us much rest, Captain, do they?" +Menard's reply was jerked out with the strokes of his ramrod: "They +will--before long--and we can--take to the canoe. We're letting them +have all they want." He peered through the leaves, and fired quickly. +A long shriek came from the darkness. Menard laughed. "There's one +more gone, Danton." + +The fight went on slowly, wretchedly, shot for shot, Danton himself +dragging up a bale of ammunition and serving it to the men. The maid, +unaided, had overturned the canoe where it lay, and with quickened +breath was pressing her needle through the tough bark. Danton lost the +flint from his musket, and crept down the bank to set a new one. +Suddenly he exclaimed, "There goes Perrot!" + +The old _voyageur_ had, in a fit of recklessness, raised his head for +a long look about the woods. Now he was rolling slowly down the slope +toward the canoe and the maid, clutching weakly at roots and bushes as +he passed. There was a dark spot on his forehead. Menard sprang after, +and felt of his wrists; the pulse was fluttering out. He looked up, to +see the maid dipping up water with her hollowed hands, and waved her +back. + +"It is no use, Mademoiselle. Is the canoe ready? We may need it +soon." + +She stood motionless, slowly shaking her head, and letting the water +spill from her hands a drop at a time. + +"Go back there. Do what you can with it." He hurried up the bank and +fell into his place. + +"Do you see what they are doing?" asked Danton. + +"Playing the devil. Anything else?" + +The lieutenant pointed to an arrow that was sticking in a tree beside +him, slanting downward. "They are climbing trees. Listen. You can hear +them talking, and calling down. I've fired, but I don't get them." + +Menard listened closely, and shot for the sound, but with no result. + +"We've got to stop this, Danton. I don't understand it. It isn't like +the Iroquois to keep at it after a repulse. Tell Father Claude; he is +shooting too low." Menard glanced along the line at his men. The +drunken transport man lay silent at his post; beyond him were his mate +and one of the Montreal men, both of them reckless and frightened by +turns, shooting aimlessly into the dark. The arrows were rattling down +about them now. One grazed Father Claude's back as he stooped to take +aim, and straightened him up with a jerk. A moment later a bullet sang +close past Menard's head. He looked for the maid; she was sitting by +the canoe, sewing, giving no heed to the arrows. + +The Montreal man groaned softly, and flattened out, with an arrow +slanting into the small of his back; which so unmanned the only other +conscious _engage_ that he sank by him, sobbing, and trying to pull +out the arrow with his hands. Menard sprang up. + +"My God, Danton! Father Claude! This is massacre. Run for the canoe. +My turn, eh?" + +"What is it?" asked Danton. "Did they get you?" + +For reply, Menard tore an arrow from the flesh of his forearm and +dashed down the bank, musket in hand. The maid was tugging at the +canoe, struggling to move it toward the water. She did not look up to +see the yellow, crimson, and green painted figures rise from the reeds +that fringed the water but a few yards away; she did not hear the rush +of moccasined feet on the gravel. Before she could turn, she was +seized and thrown to the ground, surrounded by the Indians, who were +facing about hastily to meet Menard. The Captain came among them with +a whirl of his musket that sent one warrior to the ground and dropped +another, half stunned, across the canoe. Danton was at his heels, and +Father Claude, fighting like demons with muskets and knives. + +"Quick, Mademoiselle!" Menard lifted her as he spoke, and swung her +behind him; and then the three were facing the group of howling, +jumping figures, which was increased rapidly by those who had followed +the Frenchmen down the bank. "Come back here, Father. Protect the +maid! They dare not attack you, if you drop your musket! Loose your +hold, Mademoiselle." He caught roughly at the slender arms that held +about his waist, parrying a knife stroke with his other hand. "They +will kill you if you cling to me. Now, Danton! Never mind your arm. I +have one in the hand. Fight for the maid and France!" Menard was +shouting for sheer lust and frenzy of battle, "What is the matter with +the devils? Why don't they shoot? God, Danton, they're coming at us +with clubs!" He called out in the Iroquois tongue: "Come at us, +cowards! Make an end of it! Where are your bows? your muskets? Where +is the valour of the Onondagas--of my brothers?" + +The last words brought forth a chorus of jeers and yells. The two +officers stood side by side at the water's edge. Behind them, +knee-deep in the water, was Father Claude, holding the maid in his +arms. The Indians seemed to draw together, still with that evident +effort to take their game alive, for two tall chiefs were rushing +about, cautioning the warriors. Then, of a sudden, the whole body came +forward with a rush, and Menard, Danton, Father Claude, and the maid +went down; the three men fighting and splashing until they lay, bound +with thongs, on the beach. + +Menard turned his head and saw that Danton lay close to him. + +"Mademoiselle?" he said. "What have they done with her?" + +"She is here." The reply was in Father Claude's voice. It came from +the farther side of Danton. + +"Is she hurt?" + +"No. But they have bound her and me." + +"Bound you!" The Captain tried to sit up, but could not. "They would +not do that, Father. It is a mistake." + +A warrior, carrying a musket under his arm, walked slowly around the +prisoners, making signs to them to be silent. The others had withdrawn +to the shadow of the bank; the sound of their voices came indistinctly +across the strip of shore. Indifferent to the pain in his arm, Menard +struggled at his thongs, and called to them in Iroquois: "Who of my +brothers has bound the holy Father? What new fear strikes the breasts +of the sons of the night-wind that they must subdue with force the +gentle spirit of their Father, who has given his years for his +children? Is it not enough that you have broken the faith with your +brother, the child of your own village, the son of your bravest chief? +Need you other prey than myself?" + +The guard stood over Menard, and lifted his musket. Menard laughed. + +"Strike me, brave warrior. Show that your heart is still as fond as on +the day I carried your torn body on my shoulder to the safety of your +lodge. Ah, you remember? You have not forgotten the Big Buffalo? Then, +why do you hesitate? The man who has courage to seize a Father of the +Church, surely can strike his brother. This is not the brave Tegakwita +I have known." + +Father Claude broke in on Menard, whose voice was savage in its +defiance. + +"Have patience, M'sieu. I will speak." He lifted his voice. +"Teganouan! Father Claude awaits you." There was no reply from the +knot of warriors at the bank, and the priest called again. Finally a +chief came across and looked stolidly at the prisoners. + +"My Father called?" he said. + +"Your Father is grieved, Long Arrow, that you would bind him like a +soldier taken in war." The priest's voice was gentle. "Is this the +custom of the Onondagas? It was not so when I served you with Father +de Lamberville." + +"My Father fought against his children." + +"You would have slain me, Long Arrow, had I not." + +The Indian walked slowly back to his braves, and for some moments +there was a consultation. Then the other chief came to them, and, +without a word, himself cut the thongs that bound the priest's wrists +and ankles. There was no look of recognition in his eyes as he passed +Menard, though they had been together on many a long hunt. He was the +Beaver. + +As the Captain lay on his back, looking first at the kneeling Indian, +then at the sky overhead, he was thinking of the Long Arrow, again +with a half-memory of some other occasion when they had met. Then, +slowly, it came to him. It was at the last council to decide on his +release from captivity, five years before. The Long Arrow had come +from a distant village to urge the death of the prisoner. He had +argued eloquently that to release Menard would be to send forth an +ungrateful son who would one day strike at the hand that had +befriended him. + +Father Claude was on his feet, chafing his wrists and talking with the +Beaver. The Long Arrow joined them, and for a few moments the chiefs +reasoned together in low, dignified tones. Then, at a word from the +Beaver, and a grunt of disgust from the Long Arrow, Father Claude, +with quick fingers, set the maid free, and took her head upon his +knee. + +"Have they hurt her, Father?" asked Menard, in French. + +"No, M'sieu, I think not. It is the excitement. The child sadly needs +rest." + +"Will they release you? It is not far to Frontenac. It may be that you +can reach there with Mademoiselle." + +"No, my son." The priest paused to dip up some water, and to stroke +the maid's forehead and wrists. "They have some design which has not +been made clear to me. They have promised not to bind me or to injure +what belongs to me among the supplies. But the Beaver threatens to +kill us if we try to escape, Mademoiselle and I." + +"Why do they hold you?" + +"To let no word go out concerning your capture. I fear, M'sieu--" + +"Well?" + +The priest lowered his eyes to the maid, who still lay fainting, and +said no more. A long hour went by, with only a commonplace word now +and then between the prisoners. The maid revived, and sat against the +canoe, gazing over the water that swept softly by. Danton lay silent, +saying nothing. Once a groan slipped past the Captain's lips at a +twitch of his wounded arm, and Father Claude, immediately cheered by +the prospect of a moment's occupation, cleaned the wound with cool +water, and bandaged it with a strip from his robe. + +Preparations were making for a start. A half-dozen braves set out, +running down the beach; and shortly returned by way of the river with +two canoes. The others had opened the bales of supplies (excepting +Father Claude's bundle, which he kept by him), and divided the food +and ammunition among themselves. The two chiefs came to the prisoners, +and seated themselves on the gravel. The Long Arrow began talking. + +"My brother, the Big Buffalo, is surprised that he should be taken a +prisoner to the villages of the Onondagas. He thinks of the days when +he shared with us our hunts, our lodges, our food, our trophies; when +he lived a free life with his brothers, and parted from them with +sadness in his voice. He had a grateful heart for the Onondagas then. +When he left our lodges he placed his hand upon the hearts of our +chiefs, he swore by his strange gods to keep the pledge of friendship +to his brothers of the forest. Moons have come and gone many times +since he left our villages. The snow has fallen for five seasons +between him and us, to chill his heart against those who have +befriended him. Twice has he been in battle when we might have taken +him a prisoner, but the hearts of our braves were warm toward him, and +they could not lift their arms. When there have been those who have +urged that the hatchet be taken up against him, many others have come +forward to say, 'No; he will yet prove our friend and our brother.'" + +Menard lay without moving, looking up at the stars. Danton, by his +side, and the maid, sitting beyond, were watching him anxiously. +Father Claude stood erect, with folded arms. + +"And now," continued the chief, "now that Onontio, the greatest of war +chiefs, thinks that he is strong, and can with a blow destroy our +villages and drive us from the lands our gods and your gods have said +to be ours by right, as it was our fathers',--now there is no longer +need for the friendship of the Onondagas, whose whole nation is fewer +than the fighting braves of the great Onontio. The war-song is sung in +every white village. The great canoes take food and powder up our +river, for those who would destroy us." + +Menard was still looking upward. "My brother," he said, speaking +slowly, "was once a young brave. When he was called before his great +chief, and commanded to go out and fight to save his village and his +brothers and sisters, did he say to his chief: 'No, my father, I will +no longer obey your commands. I will no longer strive to become a +famous warrior of your nation. I will go away into the deep +forest,--alone, without a lodge, without a nation, to be despised +alike by my brothers and my foes?' Or did he go as he was bid, +obeying, like a brave warrior, the commands of those who have a right +to command? Does not the Long Arrow know that Onontio is the greatest +of chiefs, second only to the Great-Chief-Across-the-Water, the father +of red men and white men? If Onontio's red sons are disobedient, and +he commands me to chastise them, shall I say to my father, 'I cannot +obey your will, I will become an outcast, without a village or a +nation?' The Long Arrow is a wise man. He knows that the duty of all +is to obey the father at Quebec." + +"The Big Buffalo speaks with wisdom. But it may be he forgets that our +braves have passed him by in the battles of every season since he left +our villages. He forgets that he met a band of peaceful hunters from +our nation, who went into his great stone house because they believed +that his white brothers, if not himself, would keep the word of +friendship. He forgets that they were made to drink of the white man's +fire water, and were chained together to become slaves of the great +kind Chief-Across-the-Water, who loves his children, and would make +them mighty in his land. Is this the father he would have us obey? +Truly, he speaks with an idle tongue." + +Menard lay silent. His part in La Grange's treachery, and in carrying +out later the Governor's orders, would be hard to explain. To lay the +blame on La Grange would not help his case, at least until he could +consult with Father Claude, and be prepared to speak deliberately. + +"My brother does not reply?" + +"He will ask a question," replied Menard. "What is the will of the +chiefs to do with the sons of Onontio?" + +"The Big Buffalo has seen the punishment given by the Onondagas to +those who have broken their faith." + +"I understand. And of course we shall be taken to your villages before +this death shall come?" + +The Long Arrow bowed. + +"Very well," said Menard, in his slow voice. "As the Long Arrow, brave +as he is, is but a messenger, obeying the will of the nation, I will +withhold my word until I shall be brought before your chiefs in +council. I shall have much to say to them; it need be said only once. +I shall be pleased to tell my truths to the Big Throat, whose eyes can +see beyond the limits of his lodge; who knows that the hand of Onontio +is a firm and strong hand. He shall know from my lips how kind Onontio +wishes to be to his ungrateful children--" He paused. The Indians must +not know yet that the Governor's campaign was to be directed only +against the Senecas. The mention of the Big Throat would, he knew, be +a shaft tipped with jealousy in the breast of the Long Arrow. The Big +Throat, Otreouati, was the widest famed orator and chief of the +Onondagas; and it was he who had adopted Menard as his son. Above all, +the Long Arrow would not dare to do away with so important a prisoner +before he could be brought before the council. + +The maid was leaning forward, following their words intently. "Oh, +M'sieu," she said, "I cannot understand it all. What will they do with +you?" + +Menard hesitated, and replied in French without turning his head: +"They will take us to their villages below Lake Ontario. They will not +harm you, under Father Claude's protection. And then it is likely that +we may be rescued before they can get off the river." + +"But yourself, M'sieu? They are angry with you. What will they do?" + +"Lieutenant Danton and I must look out for ourselves. I shall hope +that we may find a way out." + +The Long Arrow was looking closely at them, evidently resenting a +woman's voice in the talk. At the silence, he spoke in the same low +voice, but Menard and Father Claude read the emotion underneath. + +"It may be that the Big Buffalo has never had a son to brighten his +days as his life reaches the downward years. It may be that he has not +watched the papoose become a fleet youth, and the youth a tireless +hunter. He may not have waited for the day when the young hunter +should take his seat at the council and speak with those who will hear +none but wise men. I had such a son. He went on the hunt with a band +that never returned to the village." His voice rose above the pitch +customary to a chief. It was almost cold in its intensity. "I found +his body, my brother, the body of my son, at this place, killed by the +white men, who talked to us of the love of their gods and their +Chief-Across-the-Water. Here it was I found him, who died before he +would become the slave of a white man; and here I have captured the +man who killed him. It is well that we have not killed my brother +to-night. It is better that we should take him alive before the +council of the Onondagas, who once were proud in their hearts that he +was of their own nation." + +The maid's eyes, shining with tears, were fixed on the Indian's face. +She had caught up with her hand the flying masses of her hair and +braided them hastily; but still there were locks astray, touched by +the light of the starlit sky. Menard turned his head, and watched her +during the long silence. Danton was watching her too. He had not +understood the chief's story, but it was clear from her face that she +had caught it all. It was Father Claude who finally spoke. His voice +was gentle, but it had the air of authority which his long experience +had taught him was necessary in dealing with the Indians. + +"The Big Buffalo has said wisely. He will speak only to the great +chiefs of the nation, who will understand what may be beyond the minds +of others. The heart of the Long Arrow is sad, his spirit cast down, +and he does not see now what to-morrow he may,--that the hand of the +Big Buffalo is not stained with the blood of his son. We will go to +your village, and tell your chiefs many things they cannot yet know. +For the Big Buffalo and his young brother, I shall ask only the +justice which the Onondagas know best how to give. For myself and my +sister, I am not afraid. We will follow your course, to come back when +the chiefs shall order it." + +The two Indians exchanged a few signs, rose, and went to the scattered +group of braves, who were feasting on the white men's stores. In a +moment these had thrown the bundles together, and were getting the +canoes into the water. Two warriors cut Danton's thongs and raised him +to his feet. He rubbed his wrists, where the thongs had broken the +skin, and stepped about to get the stiffness from his ankles. Then he +bent down to set Menard loose, but was thrown roughly back. + +"What's this? What's the matter? Do you understand this, Menard?" + +"I think so," replied the Captain, quietly. + +"What is it?" + +"A little compliment to me, that is all." + +Danton stood looking at him in surprise, until he was hustled to +the nearest canoe and ordered to take a paddle. He looked back and +saw four warriors lift Menard, still bound hand and foot, and +carry him to the other canoe, laying him in the bottom beneath the +bracing-strips. Father Claude, too, was given a paddle. Then they +glided away over the still water, into a mysterious channel that +wound from one shadow-bound stretch to another, past islands that +developed faintly from the blackness ahead and faded into the +blackness behind. The lean arms of the Indians swung with a +tireless rhythm, and their paddles slipped to and fro in the water +with never a sound, save now and then a low splash. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE MAID MAKES NEW FRIENDS. + + +The prisoners were allowed some freedom in the Onondaga village. They +were not bound, and they could wander about within call of the low hut +which had been assigned to them. This laxity misled Danton into +supposing that escape was practicable. + +"See," he said to Menard, "no one is watching. Once the dark has come +we can slip away, all of us." + +Menard shook his head. + +"Do you see the two warriors sitting by the hut yonder,--and the group +playing platter among the trees behind us? Did you suppose they were +idling?" + +"They seem to sleep often." + +"You could not do it. We shall hope to get away safely; but it will +not be like that." + +Danton was not convinced. He said nothing further, but late on that +first night he made the attempt alone. The others were asleep, and +suspected nothing until the morning. Then Father Claude, who came and +went freely among the Indians, brought word that he had been caught a +league to the north. The Indians bound him, and tied him to stakes in +a strongly guarded hut. This much the priest learned from Tegakwita, +the warrior who had guarded them on the night of their capture. After +Menard's appeal to his gratitude he had shown a willingness to be +friendly, and, though he dared do little openly, he had given the +captives many a comfort on the hard journey southward. + +Later in the morning Menard and Mademoiselle St. Denis were sitting at +the door of their hut. The irregular street was quiet, excepting for +here and there a group of naked children playing, or a squaw passing +with a load of firewood on her back. An Indian girl came in from the +woods toward them. She was of light, strong figure, with a full face +and long hair, which was held back from her face by bright ribbons. +Her dress showed more than one sign of Mission life. She was cleaner +than most of the Indians, and was not unattractive. She came to them +without hesitation. + +"I am Tegakwita's sister. My name is Mary; the Fathers at the Mission +gave it to me." + +Menard hardly gave her a glance, but Mademoiselle was interested. + +"That is not your Indian name?" she asked. + +"Yes,--Mary." + +"Did you never have another?" + +"My other name is forgotten." + +"These Mission girls like to ape our ways," said Menard, in French. + +The girl looked curiously at them, then she untied a fold of her +skirt, and showed a heap of strawberries. "For the white man's squaw," +she said. + +Mademoiselle blushed and laughed. "Thank you," she replied, holding +out her hands. The girl gave her the berries, and turned away. Menard +looked up as a thought came to him. + +"Wait, Mary. Do you know where the young white chief is?" + +"Yes. He tried to run away. He cannot run away from our warriors." + +"Are you afraid to go to him?" + +"My brother, Tegakwita, is guarding him. I am not afraid." + +Menard went to a young birch tree that stood near the hut, peeled off +a strip of bark, and wrote on it:-- + +"If you try to escape again you will endanger my plans. Keep your +patience, and I can save you." + +"Will you take him some berries, and give him this charm with them?" + +She took the note, rolled it up with a nod, and went away. Menard saw +the question in Mademoiselle's eyes, and said: "It was a warning to be +cool. Our hope is in getting the good-will of the chiefs." + +"Will they--will they hurt him, M'sieu?" + +"I hope not. At least we are still alive and safe; and years ago, +Mademoiselle, I learned how much that means." + +The maid looked into the trees without replying. Her face had lost +much of its fulness, and only the heavy tan concealed the worn +outlines. But her eyes were still bright, and her spirit, now that the +first shock had passed, was firm. + +Father Claude returned, after a time, with a heavy face. He drew +Menard into the hut, and told him what he had gathered: that the Long +Arrow and his followers were planning a final vengeance against +Captain Menard. All the braves knew of it; everywhere they were +talking of it, and preparing for the feasting and dancing. + +"They will wait until after the fighting, won't they?" + +"No, M'sieu. It is planned to begin soon, within a day or two." + +"Have you inquired for the Big Throat?" + +"He is five leagues away, at the next village. We can hardly hope for +help from him, I fear. All the tribes are preparing to join in +fighting our troops." + +Menard paused to think. + +"It looks bad, Father." He walked up and down the hut. "The Governor's +column must have followed up the river within a few days of us. Then +much time was lost in getting us down here." He turned almost fiercely +to the priest. "Why, the campaign may have opened already. Word may +come to-morrow from the Senecas calling out the Onondagas and Cayugas. +Do you know what that means? It means that I have failed,--for the +first time in my life, Father,--miserably failed. There must be some +way out. If I could only get word to the Big Throat. I'm certain I +could talk him over. I have done it before." + +Father Claude had never before seen despair in Menard's eyes. + +"You speak well, M'sieu. There must be some way. God is with us." + +The Captain was again pacing the beaten floor. Finally he came to the +priest, and took his arm. "I don't know what it is that gives me +courage, Father, but at my age a man isn't ready to give up. They may +kill me, if they like, but not before I've carried out my orders. The +Onondagas must not join the Senecas." + +"How"--began the priest. + +Menard shook his head. "I don't know yet,--but we can do it." He went +out of doors, as if the sunlight could help him, and during the rest +of the day and evening he roamed about or lay motionless under the +trees. The maid watched him until dark, but kept silent; for Father +Claude had told her, and she, too, believed that he would find a way. + +Late in the evening Father Claude began to feel disturbed. Menard was +still somewhere off among the trees. He had come in for his handful of +grain, at the supper hour, but with hardly a word. The Father had +never succeeded, save on that one occasion when Danton was the +subject, in carrying on a long conversation with the maid; and now +after a few sorry attempts he went out of doors. He thought of going +to the Captain, to cheer his soul and prepare his mind for whatever +fate awaited him, but his better judgment held him back. + +The village had no surface excitement to suggest coming butchery and +war. The children were either asleep or playing in the open. Warriors +walked slowly about, wrapped closely in blankets, though the night was +warm. The gnats and mosquitoes were humming lazily, the trees barely +stirring, and the voices of gossiping squaws or merry youths blended +into a low drone. There was the smell in the air of wood and leaves +burning, from a hundred smouldering fires. Father Claude stood for a +long time gazing at the row of huts, and wondering that such an air of +peace and happiness could hover over a den of brute savages, who were +even at the moment planning to torture to his death one of the bravest +sons of New France. + +While he meditated, he was half conscious of voices near at hand. He +gave it no attention until his quick ear caught a French word. He +started, and hurried to the hut, pausing in the door. By the dim light +of the fire, that burned each night in the centre of the floor, he +could see Mademoiselle standing against the wall, with hands clasped +and lips parted. Nearer, with his back to the door, stood an Indian. + +The maid saw the Father, but did not speak. He came forward into the +hut, and gently touched the Indian's arm. + +"What is it?" he asked in Iroquois. + +The Indian stood, without a reply, until the silence grew heavy. +Mademoiselle had straightened up, and was watching with fascinated +eyes. Then, slowly, the warrior turned, and beneath buckskin and +feathers, dirt and smeared colours, the priest recognized Danton. He +turned sadly to the maid. + +"I do not understand," he said. + +She put her hands before her eyes. "I cannot talk to him," she said, +in a broken voice. "Why does he come? Why must I--" Then she collected +herself, and came forward. Pity and dignity were in her voice. "I am +sorry, Lieutenant Danton. I am very sorry." + +The boy choked, and Father Claude drew him, unresisting, outside the +hut. + +"How did you come here, Danton? Tell me." + +Danton looked at him defiantly. + +"What does this mean? Where did you get these clothes?" + +"It matters not where I got them. It is my affair." + +"Who gave you these clothes?" + +"It is enough that I have friends, if those whom I thought friends +will not aid me." + +The priest was pained by the boy's rough words. + +"I am sorry for this, my son,--for this strange disorder. Did you not +receive a message from your Captain?" + +Danton hesitated. "Yes," he said at last. "I received a message,--an +order to lie quiet, and let these red beasts burn me to death. Menard +is a fool. Does he not know that they will kill him? Does he not know +that this is his only chance to escape? He is a fool, I say." + +"You forget, my son." + +"Well, if I do? Must I stay here for the torture because my Captain +commands? Why do you hold me here? Let me go. They will be after me." + +"Wait, Danton. What have you said to Mademoiselle?" + +The boy looked at him, and for a moment could not speak. + +"Do you, too, throw that at me, Father? It was all I could do. I +thought she cared for her life more than for--for Menard. No, let me +go on. I have risked everything to come for her, and she--she--I did +not know it would be like this." + +"But what do you plan?" The priest's voice was more gentle. "Where are +you going? You cannot get to Frontenac alone." + +"I don't know," replied Danton wearily, turning away. "I don't care +now. I may as well go to the devil." + +Without a word of farewell he walked boldly off through the trees, +drawing his blanket about his shoulders. Father Claude stood watching +him, half in mind to call Menard, then hesitating. Already the boy was +committed: he had broken his bonds, and to make any effort to hold him +meant certain death for him. Perhaps it was better that he should take +the only chance left to him. The hut was silent. He looked within, and +saw the maid still standing by the wall. Her eyes were on him, but she +said nothing, and he turned away. He walked slowly up and down under +the great elms that arched far up over his head. At last he looked +about for the Captain, and finding him some little way back in the +woods, told him the story. + +Menard's face had aged during the day. His eyes had a dull firmness in +place of the old flash. He heard the account without a word, and, at +the close, when the priest looked at him questioningly for a reply, he +shook his head sadly. His experiment with Danton had failed. + +"He didn't tell you who had helped him?" + +"No, M'sieu. It is very strange." + +"Yes," said Menard, "it is." + +The night passed without further incident. Early in the morning, +Father Claude went out to find Tegakwita, and learn what news had come +in during the night of the French column. Runners were employed in +passing daily between the different villages, keeping each tribe fully +informed. + +Menard sat before the hut. The clearing showed more life than on the +preceding day. Bands of warriors, hunting and scouting parties, were +coming in at short intervals, scattering to their shelters or hurrying +to the long building in the centre of the village. The growing boys +and younger warriors ran about, calling to one another in eager, +excited voices. As the morning wore along, grave chiefs and braves, +wrapped in their blankets, walked by on their way to the council +house. + +The maid, after Father Claude had gone, watched the Captain for a long +time through the open door. The conversation with the Long Arrow, on +the night of their capture, had been burned into her memory; and now, +as she looked at Menard's drawn face and weary eyes, the picture came +to her again of the Long Arrow sitting by the river in the dim light +of the stars,--and of the white man who had fought for her, lying +before him, gazing upward and speaking with a calm voice to the stern +chief who wished to kill him. Then, in spite of the excitement, the +danger, and exhaustion of the fight, it had seemed that the Captain +could not long be held by this savage. His stern manner, his command, +had given her a confidence which had, until this moment, strengthened +her. But now, of a sudden, she saw in his eyes the look of a man who +sees no way ahead. This quarrel with the Long Arrow was no matter of +open warfare, even of race against race; it was an eye for an eye, the +demand of a crazed father for the life of the slayer of his son. That +she could do nothing, that she must sit feebly while he went to his +death, came to her with a dead sense of pain. + +With a restless spirit she went out of doors, passing him with a +little smile; but he did not look up. A group of passing youths +stopped and jeered at him, but he did not give them a glance. She +shrank back against the building until they had gone on. + +"Do not mind them, Mademoiselle," said Menard, quietly. "They will not +harm you." + +She hesitated by his side, half in mind to speak to him, to tell him +that she knew his trouble, and had faith in him, but his bowed head +was forbidding in its solitude. All about the hut, under the spreading +trees, was a stretch of coarse green sod, dotted with tiny yellow +flowers and black-centred daisies. She wandered over the grass, +gathering them until her hands were full. Two red boys came by, and +paused to cry at her, taunting her as if she, too, were to meet the +fate of a war captive. The thought made her shudder, but then, on an +impulse, she called to them in their own language. They looked at each +other in surprise. She walked toward them, laying down the flowers, +and holding out her hand. A little later, when Menard looked up, he +saw her sitting beneath a gnarled oak, a boy on either side eagerly +watching her. She was talking and laughing with them, and teaching +them to make a screeching pipe with grass-blades held between the +thumbs. He envied her her elastic spirits. + +"You have made two friends," he called in French. + +She looked up and nodded, laughing. "They are learning to make the +music of the white brothers." + +The boys' faces had sobered at the sound of his voice. They looked at +him doubtfully, and then at each other. He got up and walked slowly +toward them. + +"I will make friends, too, Mademoiselle," he said, smiling. "We have +none too many here." + +Before he had taken a dozen steps, the boys arose. He held out his +hands, saying, "Your father would be friends with his children." But +they began to retreat, a step at a time. + +"Come, my children," said the maid, smiling at the words as she +uttered them. "The white father is good. He will not hurt you." + +They kept stepping backward until he had reached the maid's side; +then, with a shout of defiance, they scampered away. In the distance +they stopped, and soon were the centre of a group of children whom +they taught to blow on the grass-blades, with many a half-frightened +glance toward Menard and the maid. + +"There," he said, at length, "you may see the advantage of a +reputation." + +She looked at him, and, moved by the pathos underlying the words, +could not, for the moment, reply. + +"I once had a home in this village," he added. "It stood over there, +in the bare spot near the beech tree." His eyes rested on the spot for +a moment, then he turned back to the hut. + +"M'sieu," she said shyly. + +The little heap of flowers lay where she had dropped them; and, taking +them up, she arranged them hastily and held them out. "Won't you take +them?" + +He looked at her, a little surprised, then held out his hand. + +"Why,--thank you. I don't know what I can do with them." + +They walked back together. + +"You must wear some of the daisies, Mademoiselle. They will look +well." + +She looked down at her torn, stained dress, and laughed softly; but +took the white cluster he gave her, and thrust the stems through a +tattered bit of lace on her breast. + +Menard was plainly relieved by the incident. He had been worn near to +despair, facing a difficulty which seemed every moment farther from a +solution; and now he turned to her fresh, light mood as to a refuge. + +"We must put these in water, Mademoiselle, or they will soon lose +their bloom." + +"If we had a cup--?" + +"A cup? A woodsman would laugh at your question. There is the spring, +here is the birch; what more could you have?" + +"You mean--?" + +"We will make a cup,--if you will hold the flowers. They are +beautiful, Mademoiselle. No nation has such hills and lakes and +flowers as the Iroquois. The Hurons boast of their lake country,--and +the Sacs and Foxes, too, though they have a duller eye for the +picturesque. See--the valley yonder--" He pointed through a rift in +the foliage to the league-long glimpse of green, bound in by the +gentle hills that rose beyond--"even to the tired old soldier there is +nothing more beautiful, more peaceful." + +He peeled a long strip of bark from the birch tree, and rolled it into +a cup. "Your needle and thread, Mademoiselle,--if they have not taken +them." + +"No; I have everything here." + +She got her needle, and under his direction stitched the edges of the +bark. + +"But it will leak, M'sieu." + +He laughed. "The tree is the Indian's friend, Mademoiselle. Now it is +a pine tree that we need. The guards will tell me of one." + +He walked over to the little group of warriors still at their game of +platter,--the one never-ceasing recreation of the Onondagas, at which +they would one day gamble away blankets, furs, homes, even squaws, +only to win them back on the next. They looked at him suspiciously +when he questioned them; but he was now as light of heart as on the +day, a few weeks earlier, when he had leaned on the balcony of the +citadel at Quebec, idly watching the river. He smiled at them, and +after a parley the maid saw one tall brave point to a tree a few yards +farther in the wood. They followed him closely with their eyes until +he was back within the space allowed him. + +"Now, Mademoiselle, we can gum the seams,--see? It is so easy. The +cold water will harden it." + +They went together to the spring and filled the cup, first drinking +each a draught. He rolled a large stone to the hut door, and set the +cup on it. + +"Oh, Mademoiselle, it will not stand. I am not a good workman, I fear. +But then, it is not often in a woodsman's life that he keeps flowers +at his door. We must have some smaller stones to prop it up." + +"I will get them, M'sieu." In spite of his protests she ran out to the +path and brought some pebbles. "Now we have decorated our home." She +sat upon the ground, leaning against the log wall, and smiling up at +him. "Sit down, M'sieu. I am tired of being solemn, we have been +solemn so long." + +Already the heaviness was coming back on the Captain. He wondered, as +he looked at her, if she knew how serious their situation was. It +hardly seemed that she could understand it, her gay mood was so +genuine. She glanced up again, and at the sight of the settling lines +about his mouth and the fading sparkle in his eyes, her own eyes, +while the smile still hovered, grew moist. + +"I am sorry," she said softly,--"very, very sorry." + +He sat near by, and fingered the flowers in the birch cup. They were +both silent. Finally she spoke. + +"M'sieu." + +He looked down. + +"It may be that you think that--that I do not understand. It is not +that, M'sieu. But when I think about it, and the sadness comes, I +know, some way, that it is going to come out all right. We are +prisoners, but other people have been prisoners, too. I have heard of +many of them from Father Dumont. He himself has suffered among the +Oneidas. I--I cannot believe it, even when it seems the darkest." + +"I hope you are right, Mademoiselle. I, too, have felt that there must +be a way. And at the worst, they will not dare to hurt Father Claude +and--you." And under his breath he added, "Thank God." + +"They will not dare to hurt you, M'sieu. They must not do it." She +rose and stood before him. "When I think of that,--that you, who have +done so much that I might be safe, are in danger, I feel that it would +be cowardly for me to go away without you. You would not have left me, +on the river. I know you would have died without a thought. And I--if +anything should happen, M'sieu; if Father Claude and I should be set +free, and--without you--I could never put it from my thoughts. I +should always feel that I--that you--no no, M'sieu. They cannot do +it." + +She shook away a tear, and looked at him with an honest, fearless +gaze. It was the outpouring of a grateful heart, true because she +herself was true, because she could not accept his care and sacrifice +without a thought of what she owed him. + +"You forget," he said gently, "that it was not your fault. They could +have caught me as easily if you had not been there. It is a soldier's +chance, Mademoiselle. He must take what life brings, with no +complaint. It is the young man's mistake to be restless, impatient. +For the rest of us, why, it is our life." + +"But, M'sieu, you are not discouraged? You have not given up?" + +"No, I have not given up." He rose and looked into her eyes. "I have +come through before; I may again. If I am not to get through, I shall +fight them till I drop. And then, I pray God, I may die like a +soldier." + +He turned away and went into the hut. He was in the hardest moment of +his trial. It was the inability to fight, the lack of freedom, of +weapons, the sense of helplessness, that had come nearer to +demoralizing Menard than a hundred battles. He had been trusted with +the life of a maid, and, more important still, with the Governor's +orders. He was, it seemed, to fail. + +The maid stood looking after him. She heard him drop to the ground +within. Then she roamed aimlessly about, near the building. + +Father Claude came up the path, walking slowly and wearily, and +entered the hut. A moment later Menard appeared in the doorway and +called:-- + +"Mademoiselle." As she approached, he said gravely, "I should like it +if you will come in with us. It is right that you should have a voice +in our councils." + +She followed him in, wondering. + +"Father Claude has news," Menard said. + +The priest told them all that he had been able to learn. Runners had +been coming in during the night at intervals of a few hours. They +brought word of the landing of the French column at La Famine. The +troops had started inland toward the Seneca villages. The Senecas were +planning an ambush, and meanwhile had sent frantic messages to the +other tribes for aid. The Cayuga chiefs were already on the way to +meet in council with the Onondagas. The chance that the attack might +be aimed only at the Senecas, to punish them for their depredations of +the year before, had given rise to a peace sentiment among the more +prudent Onondagas and Cayugas, who feared the destruction of their +fields and villages. Up to the present, none had known where the +French would strike. But, nevertheless, said the priest, the general +opinion was favourable to taking up the quarrel with the Senecas. + +Further, the French were leaving a rearguard of four hundred men in a +hastily built stockade at La Famine, and the more loose-tongued +warriors were already talking of an attack on this force, cutting the +Governor's communications, and then turning on him from the rear, +leaving it to the Senecas to engage him in front. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE WORD OF AN ONONDAGA. + + +For a long time after Father Claude had finished speaking, the three +sat talking over the situation. Even the maid had suggestions. But +when all had been said, when the chances of a rescue by the French, or +of getting a hearing before the council, even of a wild dash for +liberty, had been gone over and over, their voices died away, and the +silence was eloquent. D'Orvilliers would know that only capture could +have prevented them from reaching the fort; but even supposing him to +believe that they were held by the Onondagas, he had neither the men +nor the authority to fight through the Cayuga lakes and hills to reach +them. As for the Governor's column, it would have its hands full +before marching ten leagues from La Famine. Had Menard been alone, he +would have made the attempt to escape, knowing from the start that the +chance was near to nothing, but glad of the opportunity at least to +die fighting. But with Mademoiselle to delay their progress, and to +suffer his fate if captured, it was different. As matters stood, she +was likely to be released with Father Claude, as soon as he should be +disposed of. And so his mind had settled on staying, and dying, if he +must, alone. + +"I have not known whether to tell all," said Father Claude, after the +silence. "And yet it would seem that Mademoiselle may as well know the +truth now as later." + +"You have not told me?" she said, with reproach in her voice. "Must I +always be a child to you, Father? If God has seen it best to place me +here, am I not to help bear the burden?" + +"Mademoiselle is right, Father. Hold nothing back. Three stout hearts +are better than two." + +The priest looked gravely at the fire. + +"The word has gone out," he said. "The Long Arrow, by his energy and +his eloquence, but most of all because he had the courage to capture +the Big Buffalo in the enemy's country with but a score of braves, now +controls the village. To-morrow night the great council will begin. +The war chiefs of all the Cayuga and Onondaga and Oneida and Mohawk +villages will meet here and decide whether to take up the hatchet +against the white men. The Long Arrow well knows that his power will +last only until the greater chiefs come, and he will have his revenge +before his day wanes." + +"When?" asked the Captain. + +"To-morrow morning, M'sieu. The feasting and dancing will begin +to-night." + +The maid was looking at the priest. "I do not understand," she said. +"What will he do?" + +"He means me, Mademoiselle," said the Captain, quietly. + +"Not--" she said, "not--" + +"Yes," he replied. "They will bring us no food to-night. In the +morning they will come for me." + +"Oh, M'sieu, they cannot! They--" She gazed at him, not heeding the +tears that suddenly came to her eyes and fell down upon her cheeks; +and, as she looked, she understood what was in his mind. "Why do you +not escape, M'sieu? There is yet time,--to-night! You are thinking of +me, and I--I--Oh, I have been selfish--I did not know! We will stay +here, Father Claude and I. You need not think of us; they will not +harm us--you told me that yourself, M'sieu. I should be in your way, +but alone--it is so easy." She would have gone on, but Menard held up +his hand. + +"No," he said, shaking his head, "no." + +Her lips moved, but she saw the expression in his eyes, and the words +died. She turned to Father Claude, but he did not look up. + +"I do not know," said Menard, slowly, "whether the heart of the Big +Throat is still warm toward me. He was once as my father." + +"He will not be here in time," Father Claude said. "He does not start +from his village until the sun is dropping on the morrow." + +The maid could not take her eyes from Menard's face. Now that the +final word had come, now that all the doubts of the unsettled day, now +only half gone, had settled into a fact to be faced, he was himself +again, the quiet, resolute soldier. Only the set, almost hard lines +about the mouth told of his suffering. + +"If we had a friend here," he was saying, quietly enough, "it may be +that Tegakwita--But no, of course not. I had forgotten about +Danton--" + +"Tegakwita has lost standing in the tribe for allowing Lieutenant +Danton to escape. He is very bitter, We can ask nothing from him." + +"No, I suppose not." + +The cool air of these two men, the manner in which they could face the +prospect, coupled with her own sense of weakness, weighed hard upon +the maid's heart. She felt that she must cry out, must in some manner +give way to her feelings. She rose and hurried into the open air. The +broad sunlight was still sifting down through the leaves and lying +upon the green earth in bright patches. The robins were singing, and +many strange birds, whose calls she did not know, but who piped +gently, musically, so in harmony with the soft landscape that their +notes seemed a part of it. It was all unreal, this quiet, sunlit +world, where the birds were free as the air which bore their songs, +while the brave Captain--she could not face the thought. + +The birch cup was still on the stone by the door. She lifted out the +flowers with their dripping stems, and rearranged them carefully, +placing a large yellow daisy in the centre. + +An Indian was approaching up the path. He had thrown aside his +blanket, and he strode rapidly, clad in close-fitting jacket and +leggings of deerskin, with knife and hatchet slung at his waist. He +came straight to the hut and entered, brushing by her without a +glance. Just as he passed she recognized him. He was Tegakwita. Her +fear of these stern warriors had suddenly gone, and she followed him +into the doorway to hear his errand. Menard greeted him with a nod; +Father Claude, too, was silent. + +"The White Chief, the Big Buffalo, has a grateful heart," said the +Indian, in cutting tones. She was glad that she could understand him. +She took a flower from the bunch at her breast, and stood motionless +in the low doorway, pulling the petals apart, one by one and watching +the little group within. The priest and the Captain were sitting on +the ground, Menard with his hands clasped easily about his knees. +Tegakwita stood erect, with his back to the door. "He feels the love +of a brother for those who would make sacrifices for him," he went on. +"It was many years ago that he saved Tegakwita from the perils of the +hunt. Tegakwita has not forgotten. When the White Chief became a +captive, he had not forgotten. He has lost his brave name as a warrior +because he believed in the White Chief. He has lost--" his voice grew +tremulous with the emotion that lay underneath the words--"He has lost +his sister, whom he sent to be a sister to the white man and his +squaw." + +"My brother speaks strangely," said Menard, looking up at him half +suspiciously. + +"Yes, it is strange." His voice was louder, and in his excitement he +dropped the indirect form of speech that, in the case of an older +warrior, would have concealed his feelings. "It is strange that you +should send my sister, who came to you in trust, to release the white +brave. It is strange you should rob me of her whom my father placed by +my side." + +Menard and Father Claude looked at each other. The Indian watched them +narrowly. + +"My son is mistaken," said Father Claude, quietly. "His sister has +wandered away. It may be that she has even now returned." + +"No, my Father. The white brave has stolen her." + +Menard got up, and spoke with feeling. + +"Tegakwita does not understand. The white brave was foolish. He is a +young warrior. He does not know the use of patience. He first escaped +against my orders. The word I sent by your sister was a command to be +patient. He went alone, my brother. He has gone forever from my camp. +It cannot be that she--" + +"The Big Buffalo speaks lies. Who came to cut the white brave's bonds? +Who stole the hunting coat, the leggings of Tegakwita, that her lover +might go free? Who has dishonoured herself, her brother, the father +that--" Words failed him, and he stood facing them with blazing eyes. + +Menard glanced at the maid, but she had passed the point where a shock +could sway her, and now stood quietly at the door, waiting to hear +what more the warrior would say. But he stood motionless. Father +Claude touched his arm. + +"If this is true, Tegakwita, the Big Buffalo must not be held to +blame. He has spoken truly. To talk in these words to the man who has +been your brother, is the act of a dog. You have forgotten that the +Big Buffalo never speaks lies." + +The Indian gave no heed to his words. He took a step forward, and +raised his hand to his knife. Menard smiled contemptuously, and spread +out his hands; he had no weapon. But Tegakwita had a second thought, +and dropped his hand. + +"Tegakwita, too, never speaks lies," he said. "He will come back +before the sun has come again." + +He walked rapidly out, crowding roughly past the maid. + +Menajd leaned against the wall. "Poor boy!" he said, "poor boy!" + +The maid came slowly in, and sat on the rude bench which leaned +against the logs near the door. The strain of the day was drawing out +all the strength, the womanhood, that lay behind her buoyant youth. +Already the tan was fading from her face, here in the hut and under +the protecting elms; and the whiteness of her skin gave her, instead +of a worn appearance, the look of an older woman,--firmer, with +greater dignity. Her eyes had a deeper, fuller understanding. + +"I suppose that there is nothing, M'sieu--nothing that we can do?" + +Menard shook his head. "No; nothing." + +"And the Indian,--he says that he will come back?" + +"Yes. I don't know what he means. It doesn't matter." + +"No, I suppose it doesn't." + +They were silent for a moment. The maid leaned forward. "What was +that, M'sieu?" + +"Loungers, on the path." + +"No, they are coming here." + +Menard rose, but she stepped to the door. "Let me go, M'sieu. Ah, I +see them. It is my little friends." She went out, and they could hear +her laughing with the two children, and trying to coax them toward the +door. + +"Danton will never get away," said the Captain, in a low tone to the +priest. + +"I fear not, M'sieu." + +"He has lost his head, poor boy. I thought him of better stuff. And +the girl--Ah, if he had only gone alone! I could forgive his rashness, +Father, his disobedience, if only he could go down with a clear +name." + +"There is still doubt," said the priest, cautiously. "We know only +what Tegakwita said." + +"I'm afraid," Menard replied, shaking his head, "I'm afraid it's true. +You said he wore the hunting clothes. Some one freed him. And the girl +is gone. I wish--Well, there is no use. I hoped for something better, +that is all." + +Just outside the door the maid was talking gaily with the two +children, who now and then raised their piping voices. Then it was +evident that they were going away, for she was calling after them. She +came into the hut, smiling, and carrying a small willow basket full of +corn. + +"See," she said, "even now it is something to have made a friend. We +shall not go hungry to-day, after all. Will you partake, Father? And +M'sieu?" + +She paused before the Captain. He had stepped forward, and was staring +at her. + +"Where are they?" he asked. + +"The children? They are wandering along the path." + +"Quick, Mademoiselle! Call them back." + +She hesitated, in surprise; then set the basket on the ground and +obeyed. Menard paced the floor until she returned. + +"They are outside, M'sieu, too frightened to come near." + +"Give me that birch cup, outside the door." He was speaking in quick, +low tones. "They must not see me. It would frighten them." + +She brought him the cup, and he emptied the flowers on the floor, +tearing open the seams, and drying the wet white bark on his sleeve. +He snatched a charred coal from the heap of ashes in the centre of the +floor, and wrote rapidly in a strange mixture of words and signs, "A +piece of thread, Mademoiselle. And look again--see that they have not +gone." + +"They are waiting, M'sieu." + +He rolled the bark tightly, and tied it with the thread which she +brought from her bundle. + +"We must have a present. Father Claude, you have your bale. +Find something quickly,--something that will please them. No, +wait--Mademoiselle, have you a mirror? They would run fifty +leagues for a mirror." + +She nodded, rummaged through her bundle, and brought out a small +glass. + +"Take this, Mademoiselle. Tell them to give this letter to the Big +Throat, at the next village. They will know the way. He must have it +before the day is over. No harm can come to them. If anyone would +punish them, the Big Throat will protect them. You must make them do +it. They cannot fail." + +Her face flushed, and her eyes snapped as she caught his nervous +eagerness. Even Father Claude had risen, and was watching him with +kindling eyes. She took the roll and the mirror, and ran out the door. +In a moment, Menard, pacing the floor, could hear her merry laugh, and +the shrill-voiced delight of the children over their new toy. He +caught the priest's hand. + +"Father, we shall yet be free. Who could fail with such a lieutenant +as that maid. How she laughs. One would think she had never a care." + +At last she came back, and sank, with a nervous, irresponsible little +laugh, on the bench. And then, for the moment, they all three laughed +together. + +In the silence that followed, Father Claude moved toward the door. + +"I must go out again, M'sieu. It may be that there is further word." + +"Very well, Father. And open your ears for news of the poor boy." + +The priest bowed, and went out. Menard stood in the door watching him, +as he walked boldly along the path. After a little he turned. The maid +was looking at him, still flushed and smiling. + +"Well, Mademoiselle, we can take hope again." + +"You are so brave, M'sieu." + +He smiled at her impulsiveness, and looked at her, hardly conscious +that he was causing her to blush and lower her eyes. + +"And so I am brave, Mademoiselle? It may be that Major Provost and +Major d'Orvilliers will not feel so." + +"But they must, M'sieu." + +"Do you know what they will say? They will speak with sorrow of +Captain Menard, the trusted, in whose hands Governor Denonville placed +the most important commission ever given to a captain in New France. +They will regret that their old friend was not equal to the test; that +he--ah, do not interrupt, Mademoiselle; it is true--that his failure +lost a campaign for New France. You heard Father Claude; you know what +these Indians plan to do." + +"You must not speak so, M'sieu. It is wicked. He would be a coward who +could blame you. It was not your fault that you were captured. When I +return I shall go to them and tell them how you fought, and how you +faced them like--like a hero. When I return--" She stopped, as if the +word were strange. + +"Aye, Mademoiselle, and God grant that you may return soon. But your +good heart leads you wrong. It was my fault that I did not bring a +force strong enough to protect myself,--and you. To fight is not a +soldier's first duty. It is to be discreet; he must know when not to +fight as well as when to draw his sword; he must know how many men are +needed to defend his cause. No; I was overconfident, and I lost. And +there we must leave it. Nothing more can be said." + +He stood moodily over the heap of ashes. When he looked at her again, +she had risen. + +"The flowers, M'sieu," she said, "you--you threw them away." + +He glanced down. They lay at his feet. Silently he knelt and gathered +them. + +"Will you help me, Mademoiselle? We will make another cup. And these +two large daisies,--did you see how they rested side by side on the +ground when I would have trampled on them? You will take one and I the +other; and when this day shall be far in the past, it may be that you +will remember it, and how we two were here together, waiting for the +stroke that should change life for us." + +He held it out, and she, with lowered eyes, reached to take it from +his hand, but suddenly checked the motion and turned to the door. + +"Will you take it, Mademoiselle?" + +She did not move; and he stood, the soldier, helpless, waiting for a +word. He had forgotten everything,--the low, smoke-blackened hut, the +responsibility that lay on his shoulders, the danger of the +moment,--everything but the slender maid who stood before him, who +would not take the flower from his hand. Then he stepped to her side, +and, taking away the other flowers from the lace beneath her throat, +he placed the single daisy in their stead. Her eyes were nearly +closed, and she seemed hardly to know that he was there. + +"And it may be," he whispered softly, "that we, like the flowers, +shall be spared." + +She turned slowly away, and sank upon the bench. Menard, with a +strange, new lightness in his heart, went out into the sunlight. + +The day wore on. The warm sunbeams, that slipped down through the +foliage, lengthened and reached farther and farther to the east. The +bright spots of light crept across the grass, climbed the side of the +hut and the tree-trunks, lingered on the upreaching twigs, and died +away in the blue sky. The evening star shot out its white spears, +glowing and radiant, long before the light had gone, or the purple and +golden afterglow had faded into twilight. Menard's mind went back to +another day, just such a glorious, shining June day as this had been, +when he had sat not a hundred yards from this spot, waiting, as now, +for the end. He looked at his fingers. They were scarred and knotted; +one drunken, frenzied squaw had mangled them with her teeth. He had +wondered then how a man could endure such torture as had come to him, +and still could live and think, could even struggle back to health. +The depression had gone from him now; his mind was more alert than +since the night of the capture. Whether it was the bare chance of help +from the Big Throat, or the gentle sadness in the face of the maid as +she bowed her head to the single daisy on her breast,--something had +entered into his nerves and heart, something hopeful and strong, He +wondered, as Father Claude came up the path, slowly, laboriously, why +the priest should be so saddened. After all, the world was green and +bright, and life, even a few hours of it, was sweet. + +"What news, Father?" + +The priest shook his head. "Little, M'sieu." + +"Has the feast begun?" + +"Not yet. They are assembling before the Long House." + +"Are they drinking?" + +"Yes." + +There was no need for talk, and so the two men sat before the hut, +with only an idle word now and then, until the dark came down. The +quiet of the village was broken now by the shouts of drinking +warriors, with a chanting undertone that rose and swelled slowly into +the song that would continue, both men knew, until the break of day, +or until none was left with sober tongue to carry the wavering air. A +great fire had been lighted, and they could see the glare and the +sparks beyond a cluster of trees and huts. Later, straggling braves +appeared, wandering about, bottle or flask in hand, crazed by the raw +brandy with which the English and Dutch of New York and Orange and the +French of the province alike saw fit to keep the Indians supplied. + +A group of the warriors came from the dance, and staggered toward the +hut of the captives. They were armed with knives and hatchets. One had +an arquebuse, which he fired at the trees as often as the uncertain +hands of all of them could load it. He caught sight of the white men +sitting in the shadow, and came toward them, his fellows at his +heels. + +"Move nearer the door," whispered Menard. "They must not get in." + +The two edged along the ground without rising, until they sat with +their backs in the open doorway. The Indians hung about, a few yards +away, jeering and shouting. The one with the arquebuse evidently +wished to shoot, but the others were holding his arms, and reasoning +in thick voices. No construction of the Iroquois traditions could make +it right to kill a prisoner who was held for the torture. + +The white men watched them quietly. Menard heard a rustle, and the +sound of a quick breath behind him, and he said, without taking his +eyes from the Indians:-- + +"Step back, Mademoiselle, behind the wall. You must not stand here." + +The warrior broke away from the hands that held him, staggering a rod +across the grass before he could recover his balance. The others went +after him, but he quickly rested the piece and fired. The ball went +over their heads through the doorway, striking with a low noise +against the rear wall. Menard rose, jerking away from the priest's +restraining hand. + +"Mademoiselle," he said, "you are not hurt?" + +"No, M'sieu." + +"Thank God!" He stood glaring at the huddled band of warriors, who +were trying to reload the arquebuse; then he bounded forward, broke +into the group with a force that sent two to the ground, snatched the +weapon, and, with a quick motion, drew out the flint. He threw the gun +on the ground, and walked back to his seat. + +Two of the guards came running forward. They had not been drinking, +and one of them ordered the loafers away. This did not strike them +amiss. They started off, trying to reload as they walked, evidently +not missing the flint. + +The maid came again to the doorway, and asked timidly:-- + +"Is there danger for you, M'sieu? Will they come back?" + +"No. It is merely a lot of drunken youths. They have probably +forgotten by now. Can you sleep, Mademoiselle?--have you tried?" + +"No, I--I fear that I could not." + +"It would be well to make the effort," he said gently, looking over +his shoulder at her as she leaned against the doorpost. "We do not +know what may happen. At any rate, even if you escape, you will need +all your strength on the morrow. A fallen captain may not command, +Mademoiselle, but--" + +"If it is your command, M'sieu, I will try. Good night." + +There was a long stillness, broken only by the distant noises of the +dance. + +"You, too, will sleep, M'sieu?" said Father Claude. "I will watch." + +"No, no, Father." + +"I beg it of you. At the least you will let me divide the night with +you?" + +"We shall see, we shall see. There is much to be said before either of +us closes his eyes. Hello, here is a runner." + +An Indian was loping up the path. He turned in toward the hut. + +"Quiet," said the priest. "It is Tegakwita." + +The warrior had run a long way. He was breathing deeply, and the sweat +stood out on his face and caught the shine of the firelight. + +"My brother has been far," said Menard, rising. + +"The White Chief is not surprised? He heard the word of Tegakwita, +that he would return before another sun. He has indeed been far. He +has followed the track of the forest wolf that stole the child of the +Onondagas. He has found the bold, the brave white warrior, who stole +away in the night, robbing Tegakwita of what is dearer to him than the +beating of his heart." + +The maid stood again in the doorway, resting a hand on the post, and +leaning forward with startled eyes. + +"He has found--he has found him--" she faltered. + +The Indian did not look at her. He drew something from the breast of +his shirt, and threw it on the ground at Menard's feet. Then, with +broken-hearted dignity, he strode away and disappeared in the night. + +Father Claude stooped, and picked up the object. Dimly in the +firelight they could see it,--two warm human scalps, the one of brown +hair knotted to the other of black. Menard took them in his hand. + +"Poor boy!" he said, over and over. "Poor boy!" + +He looked toward the door, but the maid had gone inside. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +A NIGHT COUNCIL. + + +The night crept by, as had the day, wearily. + +The two men sat in the doorway or walked slowly back and forth across +the front of the hut, saying little. The Captain was calling to mind +every incident of their capture, and of the original trouble between +La Grange and the hunting party. He went over the conversation with +Major Provost at Quebec word by word, until he felt sure in his +authority as the Governor's representative; although the written +orders in the leather bag that hung from his neck were concerned only +with his duties in preparing Fort Frontenac for the advancing +column,--duties that he had not fulfilled. + +A plan was forming in his mind which would make strong demands on the +good faith of Major Provost and the Governor. He knew, as every old +soldier knows, that governments and rulers are thankless, that even +written authority is none too binding, if to make it good should +inconvenience those who so easily give it. He knew further that if he +should succeed now in staying the Onondagas and Cayugas by pledges +which, perchance, it might not please Governor Denonville to observe, +the last frail ties that held the Iroquois to the French would be +broken, and England would reign from the Hudson to the river of the +Illinois. And he sighed, as he had sighed many times before, for the +old days under Frontenac, under the only Governor of New France who +could hold these slippery redskins to their obligations. + +"Father," he said finally, "I begin to see a way." + +"The Big Throat?" + +"He must help, though to tell the truth I fear that he will be of +little service. He may come in time to give us a stay; but, chief +though he is, he will hardly dare overrule the Long Arrow on a matter +so personal as this." + +"What is the Long Arrow's family--the Beaver?" + +"Yes." + +"But, M'sieu, that is the least of the eight families. If it were the +Tortoise or the Bear against us, we should have greater cause for +fear." + +"True, Father, but to each family belongs its own quarrels, its own +revenge. If the Big Throat should interfere too deeply, it would anger +the other small families, who might fear the same treatment at some +other time. And with Beaver, Snipe, Deer, and Potato united against +us,--well, it is a simple enough problem." + +They were walking by the door, and Menard, as he spoke, sat on the +stone which he had rolled there in the afternoon. The priest stood +before him. + +"I hope we may succeed, my son. I have seen this anger before, and it +has always ended in the one way." + +"Of course," the Captain replied, "it does depend on the Big Throat. +He must reach here in time." + +"God grant that he may!" + +"In that case, Father, I look for a delay. Unless his heart has +hardened rapidly, he still thinks of me. Together we will go to him, +and ask a hearing in the war council." + +"Oratory will not release us, I fear, M'sieu." + +"We shall not ask to be released, Father. Don't you understand? It is +more than that we shall demand,--it is peace with New France, the +safety of the column--" + +The priest's eyes lighted. "Do you think, M'sieu--" + +"We can do it. They have not heard all the truth. They do not want a +long war which will kill their braves and destroy their homes and +their corn. It is this attack on the Senecas that has drawn them +out." + +"You will tell them that the Governor fights only the Senecas?" + +"More than that. The La Grange affair has stirred them up. It has +weakened their faith in the Governor,--it has as good as undone all +the work of twenty years past. Our only hope is to reestablish that +faith." + +"I hope that we may," said the priest, slowly. "But they have reached +a state now where words alone will hardly suffice. I have tried it, +M'sieu. Since we came, I have talked and reasoned with them." + +"Well, Father, I am going to try it. The question is, will the +Governor make good what I shall have to promise? It may be that he +will. If not,--then my life will not be worth a box of tinder if I +stray a league from Quebec without a guard." He looked down at the +daisy on his coat. "But the maid will be safe, Father. She will be +safe." + +"I do not believe that they would harm her, even as it is." + +"No, I trust not--I trust not. But we are here, and she is here; and +not until I know that her journey is over will my eyes close easily at +night." + +"But your plan, M'sieu,--you have not told me." + +"Ah, I thought you understood. Did you know about the capture at +Frontenac when it happened? No? It was like this. The Governor sent +word, with the orders that came up to the fort in May, that at the +first sign of trouble or disturbance with the Indians there, +d'Orvilliers should seize a few score of them and send them down +the river in chains. It would be an example, he said. I was +awaiting orders,--I had just returned from the Huron Country and +Michillimackinac,--and d'Orvilliers called me to his rooms and +showed me the order. 'Now,' he said, 'who in the devil is meddling +at Quebec?' I did not know; I do not know yet. But there was the +order. He turned it over to La Grange, with instructions to wait until +some offence should give him an excuse." + +"I know the rest, M'sieu." + +"Yes, yes. You have heard a dozen times,--how La Grange was drinking, +and how he lied to a peaceful hunting party, and drugged them, and +brained one poor devil with his own sword. And what could we do, +Father? Right or wrong, the capture was made. It was too late to +release them, for the harm was done. If d'Orvilliers had refused to +carry out his orders and send them to Quebec, it would have cost him +his commission." + +"And you, M'sieu?" + +"I was the only officer on detached service at the Fort. D'Orvilliers +could not look me in the face when he ordered me to take them." + +"You will tell them this?" + +"This? Yes, and more. I will pledge the honour of New France that La +Grange shall suffer. The man who has betrayed the Onondagas must be +punished before we can have their good faith. Don't you understand?" + +Father Claude walked away a few steps, and then back, his hands +clasped before him. + +"Don't you understand, Father? If a wrong has been done an Iroquois, +it is revenge that will appease him. Very well. Captain la Grange has +wronged them; let them have their revenge." + +"Is that the right view, M'sieu?" + +"Not for us, Father,--for you and me. To us it is simple justice. But +justice,--that is not the word with which to reach an Indian." + +"But it may be that Captain la Grange is in favour at Quebec. What +then?" + +"You do not seem to understand me yet, Father." Menard spoke slowly +and calmly. "This is not my quarrel. I can take what my life brings, +and thank your God, the while, that I have life at all. But if by one +foolish act the Iroquois are to be lost to France, while I have the +word on my tongue that will set all right, am I,--well, would you have +me such a soldier?" + +The priest was looking through the leaves at the firelight. For once +he seemed to have nothing to offer. + +"It will not be easy, Father; but when was a soldier's work easy? +First I must make these Indians believe me,--and you know how hard +that will be. Then I must convince Governor Denonville that this is +his only course; and that will be still harder. Or, if they will not +release me, you will be my messenger, Father, and take the word. I +will stay here until La Grange has got his dues." + +"Let us suppose," said the priest,--"let us suppose that you did not +do this, that you did not take this course against Captain la Grange +which will leave him a marked man to the Iroquois, even if the +Governor should do nothing." + +"Then," said Menard, "the rear-guard at La Famine will be butchered, +and the army of New France will be cut to pieces. That is all." + +"You are sure of this?" + +"It points that way, Father." + +"Then let us take another case. Suppose that you succeed at the +council, that you are released. Then if the Governor should disclaim +responsibility, should--" + +"Then, Father, I will go to La Grange and make him fight me. I mean to +pledge my word to these chiefs. You know what that means." + +"Yes," replied the priest, "yes." He seemed puzzled and unsettled by +some thought that held his mind. He walked slowly about, looking at +the ground. Menard, too, was restless. He rose from the stone and +tossed away the pebbles that had supported the cup, one at a time. + +"They are singing again," he said, listening to the droning chant that +came indistinctly through the dark. "One would think they would long +ago have been too drunk to stand. How some of these recruits the King +sends over to us would envy them their stomachs." + +The priest made no reply. He did not understand the impulse that led +the Captain to speak irrelevantly at such a moment. + +"I suppose the doctors are dancing now," Menard continued. "It may be +that they will come here. If they do, we shall have a night of it." + +"We will hope not, M'sieu." + +"If they should, Father,--well, it is hard to know just what to do." + +"You were thinking--?" + +"Oh, I was wondering. If they come here, and let their wild talk run +away with them, it might be well to fight them off until morning. +Maybe we could do it." + +"Yes, it might seem best." + +"But if--if the Big Throat should not come, or should have changed, +then it would have been better that I had submitted." + +"You are thinking of me, my son. You must not. I will not leave you to +go without a struggle. I can fight, if needs be, as well as you. I +will do my part." + +"It is not that, Father. But if we fight, and the Big Throat does not +come,--there is the maid. They would not spare her then." + +The priest looked at the Captain, and in the dim, uncertain light he +saw something of the thought that lay behind those wearied eyes. + +"True," he said; "true." + +Menard walked up and down, a half-dozen steps forward, a half-dozen +back, without a glance at the priest, who watched him closely. +Suddenly he turned, and the words that were in his mind slipped +unguarded from his tongue, low and stern:-- + +"If they come, Father,--if they harm her,--God! if they even wake her, +I will kill them." + +Father Claude looked at him, but said nothing. They walked together up +and down; then, as if weary, they sat again by the door. + +"There are some things which I could not talk over with you," said the +priest, finally. "It was best that I should not. And now I hardly know +what is the right thing for me to do, or to say." + +"What troubles you?" + +"When you are cooler, it will come to you. For to-night,--until our +last moment of choice,--I must ask one favour, M'sieu. You will not +decide on this course until it comes to the end. You will think of +other ways; you will--" + +"What else have I been doing, Father? There is no other way." + +"But you will not decide yet?" + +"No. We need not, to-night." + +The priest seemed relieved. + +"M'sieu," came in a low voice from the darkness within the hut, "may I +not sit with you?" + +"You are awake, Mademoiselle? You have not been sleeping?" + +"No, I could not. I--I have not heard you, M'sieu,--I have not +listened. But I wanted to very much. I have only my thoughts, and they +are not the best of company to-night." + +"Come." Menard rose and got one of the priest's blankets, folding it +and laying it on the ground against the wall. "I fear that we may be +no better than the thoughts; but such as we are, we are at the service +of Mademoiselle." + +She sat by them, and leaned back, letting her hands fall into her lap. +Menard was half in the shadow, and he could let his eyes linger on her +face. It was a sad face now, worn by the haunting fears that the night +had brought,--fears that had not held their substance in the sunlight; +but the eyes were still bright. Even at this moment she had not +forgotten to catch up the masses of hair that were struggling to be +free; and there was a touch of neatness about her torn dress that the +hardships of the journey and the dirt and discomforts of an Indian +shelter had not been able to take away. They all three sat without +talking, watching the sparks from the fire and the tips of flame that +now and then reached above the huts. + +"How strange their song is, M'sieu." + +"Yes. They will keep it up all night. If we were nearer, you would see +that as soon as a brave is exhausted with the dancing and singing, +another will rush in to take his place. Sometimes they fall fainting, +and do not recover for hours." + +"I saw a dance once, at home. The Ottawas--there were but a few of +them--had a war-dance. It seemed to be just for amusement." + +"They enjoy it. It is not uncommon for them to dance for a day when +there is no hunt to occupy them." + +Father Claude had been silent. Now he rose and walked slowly away, +leaving them to talk together. They could see him moving about with +bowed head. + +"The Father is sad, M'sieu." + +"Yes. But it is not for himself." + +"Does he fear now? Does he not think that the Big Throat will come?" + +"I think he will come." + +The maid looked down at her clasped hands. Menard watched her,--the +firelight was dancing on her face and hair,--and again the danger +seemed to slip away, the chant and the fire to be a part of some +mad dream that had carried him in a second from Quebec to this +deep-shadowed spot, and had set this maid before him. + +"You are wearing the daisy, Mademoiselle." + +She looked up, half-startled at the change in his voice. Then her eyes +dropped again. + +"See," he continued, "so am I. Is it not strange that we should be +here, you and I. And yet, when I first saw you, I thought--" + +"You thought, M'sieu?" + +Menard laughed gently. "I could not tell you, without telling you what +I think now, and that would--be--" + +He spoke half playfully, and waited; but she did not reply. + +"I do not know what it is that has come to me. It is not like me. Or +it may be that the soldier, all these years, has not been me. Would it +not be strange if I were but now to find myself,--or if you were to +find me, Mademoiselle? If it is true, if this is what I have waited so +long to find, it would be many years before I could repay you for +bringing it to me,--it would be a long lifetime." + +Again he waited, and still she was silent. Then he talked on, as madly +now as on the night of their capture, when he had fought, shouting, +musket and knife in hand, at the water's edge. But this was another +madness. + +"It is such a simple thing. Until you came out here under the trees my +mind was racked with the troubles about us. But now you are here, and +I do not care,--no, not if this were to be my last night, if to-morrow +they should--" She made a nervous gesture, but he went on. + +"You see it is you, Mademoiselle, who come into my life, and then all +the rest goes out." + +"Don't," she said brokenly. "Don't." + +Father Claude came slowly toward them. + +"My child," he said, "if you are not too wearied, I wish to talk with +you." + +She rose with an air of relief and joined him. Menard watched them, +puzzled. He could hear the priest speaking in low, even tones; and +then the maid's voice, deep with emotion. Finally they came back, and +she went hurriedly into the hut without a glance at the soldier, who +had risen and stood by the door. + +"Come, M'sieu, let us walk." + +Menard looked at him in surprise, but walked with him. + +"It is about the speech to the council--and Captain la Grange. It may +be that you are right, M'sieu." + +"Right? I do not understand." + +"It was but a moment ago that we talked of it." + +"Yes, I have not forgotten. But what do you mean now?" + +"You promised me to wait before deciding. It may be that I was wrong. +If you are to make the speech, you will need to prepare it carefully. +There is none too much time." + +"Yes," said Menard. Then suddenly he stopped and took the priest's +arm. "I did not think, Father; I did not understand. What a fool I +am!" + +"No, no, M'sieu." + +"You have talked with her. He is her cousin, and yet it did not come +to me. It will pain her." + +"Yes," said Father Claude, slowly, "it will pain her. But I have been +thinking. I fear that you are right. It has passed beyond the simple +matter of our own lives; now it is New France that must be thought of. +You have said that it was Captain la Grange's treachery that first +angered the Onondagas. We must lay this before them. If his punishment +will satisfy them, will save the rear-guard, why then, my son, it is +our duty." + +They paced back and forth in silence. Menard's heavy breathing and his +quick glances toward the hut told the priest something of the struggle +that was going on in his mind. Suddenly he said:-- + +"I will go to her, Father. I will tell her. I cannot pledge myself to +this act if--if she--" + +"No, M'sieu, you must not; I have told her. She understands. And she +has begged me to ask you not to speak with her. She has a brave heart, +but she cannot see you now." + +"She asked you,--" said the Captain, slowly. "She asked you--I cannot +think. I do not know what to say." + +The priest quietly walked back to the stone by the door, and left the +soldier to fight out the battle alone. It was half an hour before he +came back and stood before Father Claude. + +"Well, M'sieu?" + +Menard spoke shortly, "Yes, Father, you are right." + +That was all, but it told the priest that the matter had been finally +settled. He had seen the look in the Captain's eyes when the truth had +come to him; and he knew now what he had not dreamed before, that the +soldier's heart had gone out to this maid, and now he must set his +hand against one of her own blood. The Father knew that he would do +it, would fight La Grange to the end. A word was trembling on his +tongue, but as he looked at the seamed face before him, he could not +bring himself to add a deeper sorrow to that already stamped there. + +"You must help me with the speech, Father. My wits are not at their +best, I fear." + +"Willingly, M'sieu. And the presents,--we must think of that." + +"True. We have not the wampum collars. It must be something of great +value that will take their place. You know how much tradition means to +these people. Of course I have nothing. But you--you have your bale. +And Mademoiselle--together you should find something." + +"I fear that I have little. My blankets and my altar they would not +value. One moment--" He stepped to the door, and spoke softly, +"Mademoiselle." + +"Yes, Father." She stood in the doorway, wearily. It was plain that +she had been weeping, but she was not ashamed. + +"We shall need your help, Mademoiselle. Anything in your bale that +would please the chiefs must be used." + +She was puzzled. + +"It is the custom," continued the priest, "at every council. To the +Indians a promise is not given, a statement is not true, a treaty is +not binding, unless there is a present for each clause. We have much +at stake, and we must give what we have." + +"Certainly, Father." + +She stepped back into the darkness, and they could hear her dragging +the bundle. Menard sprang to help. + +"Mademoiselle, where are you?" + +"Here, M'sieu." + +He walked toward the sound with his hands spread before him. One hand +rested on her shoulder, where she stooped over the bale. She did not +shrink from his touch. For a moment he stood, struggling with a mad +impulse to take her slender figure in his arms, to hold her where a +thousand Indians could not harm her save by taking his own strong +life; to tell her what made this moment more to him than all the stern +years of the past. It may be that she understood, for she was +motionless, almost breathless. But in a moment he was himself. + +"I will take it," he said. + +He stooped, took up the bundle, and carried it outside. She followed +to the doorway. + +"You will look, Mademoiselle." + +She nodded, and knelt by the bundle, while the two men waited. + +"There is little here, M'sieu. I brought only what was necessary. Here +is a comb. Would that please them?" + +She reached back to them, holding out a high tortoise-shell comb. They +took it and examined it. + +"It is beautiful," said Menard. + +"Yes; my mother gave it to me." + +"Perhaps, Mademoiselle,--perhaps there is something else, something +that would do as well." + +"How many should you have, M'sieu?" + +"Five, I had planned. There will be five words in the speech." + +"Words?" she repeated. + +"To the Iroquois each argument is a 'word.'" + +"I have almost nothing else, not even clothing of value. Wait--here is +a small coat of seal." + +"And you, Father?" asked Menard. + +"I have a book with highly coloured pictures, M'sieu,--'The Ceremonies +of the Mass applied to the Passion of Our Lord.'" + +"Splendid! Have you nothing else?" + +"I fear not." + +Menard turned to the maid, who was still on her knees by the open +bundle, looking up at them. + +"I am afraid that we must take your coat and the comb," he said. "I am +sorry." + +She answered in a low tone, but firmly: "You know, M'sieu, that it +would hurt me to do nothing. It hurts me to do so little." + +"Thank you, Mademoiselle. Well, Father, we must use our wits. It may +be that four words will be enough, but I cannot use fewer. We have but +three presents." + +"Yes," replied the priest, "yes." He walked slowly by them, and about +in a circle, repeating the word. The maid leaned back and watched him, +wondering. He paused before the Captain and seemed about to speak. +Then abruptly he went into the hut, and they could hear him moving +within. Menard and the maid looked at each other, the soldier smiling +quietly. He understood. + +Father Claude came out holding the portrait of Catharine, the Lily of +the Onondagas, in his hands. + +"It may be that this could be used for the fourth present," he said. + +Menard took it without a word, and laid it on the ground by the fur +coat. The maid looked at it curiously. + +"Oh, it is a picture," she said. + +"Yes, Mademoiselle," the Captain replied. "It is the portrait of an +Onondaga maiden who is to them, and to the French, almost a saint. +They will prize this above all else." + +The maid raised it, and looked at the strangely clad figure. Father +Claude quietly walked away, but Menard went after and gripped his +hand. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE BIG THROAT SPEAKS. + + +The light of the rising sun struggled through the mist that lay on the +Onondaga Valley. The trees came slowly out of the gray air, like ships +approaching through a fog. As the sun rose higher, each leaf glistened +with dew. The grass was wet and shining. + +Menard had seized a few hours of sleep. He awoke with the first beam +of yellow light, and rose from his bed on the packed, beaten ground +before the door. Father Claude was sitting on a log, at a short +distance, with bowed head. The Captain stretched his stiff limbs, and +walked slowly about until the priest looked up. + +"Good morning, Father." + +"Good morning, M'sieu." + +"It was a selfish thought that led me to choose the earlier watch. +These last hours are the best for sleeping." + +"No, I have rested well." + +"And Mademoiselle?" + +"I have heard no sound. I think that she still sleeps." + +"Softly, then. There has been no disturbance?" + +"None. The singing has died down during the last hour. There, you can +hear it, M'sieu." + +"Yes. But it is only a few voices. It must be that the others are +sleeping off the liquor. They will soon awaken." + +"Listen." + +A musket was fired, and another. + +"That is the signal." + +The song, which one group after another had taken up all through the +night, rose again and grew in volume as one at a time the sleepers +aroused and joined the dance. The only sign of the fire was a pillar +of thin smoke that rolled straight upward in the still air. + +"Father," said Menard, "are the guards about?" + +"I have not seen them. I suppose they are wandering within call." + +"Then, quickly, before we are seen, help me with this log." + +"I do not understand, M'sieu." + +"Into the hut with it, and the others, there. If a chance does +come,--well, it may be that we shall yet be reduced to holding the +hut. These will serve to barricade the door." + +They were not disturbed while they rolled the short logs within and +piled them at one side of the door, where they could not be seen from +the path. + +"Quietly, Father," whispered the Captain. He knew that the maid lay +sleeping, back among the shadows. "And the presents,--you have packed +them away?" + +"In my bundle, M'sieu. They will not be harmed." + +They returned to the open air, and looked about anxiously for signs of +a movement toward the hut; but the irregular street was silent. Here +and there, from the opening in the roof of some low building of bark +and logs, rose a light smoke. + +"They are all at the dance," said Menard. His memory supplied the +picture: the great fire, now sunk to heaps of gray ashes, spread over +the ground by the feet of those younger braves who had wished to show +their hardihood by treading barefoot on the embers; the circle of +grunting figures, leaning forward, hatchet and musket in hand, moving +slowly around the fire with a shuffling, hopping step; the outer +circle of sitting or lying figures, men, women, and children, drunken, +wanton, quarrelsome, dreaming of the blood that should be let before +the sun had gone; and at one side the little group of old men, beating +their drums of wood and skin with a rhythm that never slackened. + +The song grew louder, and broke at short intervals into shouts and +cries, punctuated with musket-shots. + +"They are coming, M'sieu." + +The head of the line, still stepping in the slow movement of the +dance, appeared at some distance up the path. The Long Arrow was in +front, in full war-paint, and wearing the collar of wampum beads. +Beside him was the Beaver. The line advanced, two and two, steadily +toward the lodge of the white men. + +Menard leaned against the door-post and watched them. His figure was +relaxed, his face composed. + +"Here are the doctors, Father." + +A group of medicine men, wildly clad in skins of beasts and reptiles, +with the heads of animals on their shoulders, came running along +beside the line, leaping high in the air, and howling. + +Menard turned to the priest. "Father, which shall it be,--shall we +fight?" + +"I do not know, M'sieu. We have no weapons, and it may be, yet, that +the Big Throat--" + +"Yes, I know." + +"And there is the maid, M'sieu." + +For the first time since the sunrise the quiet expression left the +Captain's face. He was silent for a moment. Then he said:-- + +"I will go, Father. You must protect her. If anything--if they should +dare to touch her, you will--?" + +"I will fight them, M'sieu." + +"Thank you." Menard held out his hand. They gripped in silence, and +turned again toward the Indians, who were now but a hundred yards +away. + +"They will stop in a moment," said Menard, "and form for the gantlet. +Yes,--see, the Long Arrow holds up his hands." He stood irresolute, +looking at the fantastic picture; then he stepped back into the hut. + +The maid lay in her blanket on the bench. He stood over her, looking +at the peaceful face that rested on her outstretched arm. He took her +hand, and said gently:-- + +"Mademoiselle." + +She stirred, and slowly opened her eyes; she did not seem surprised +that he should be there clasping tightly her slender hand. He wondered +if he had been in her dreams. + +"Good-bye, Mademoiselle." + +"You--you are going, M'sieu?" + +"Yes." + +She looked up at him with half-dazed eyes. She was not yet fully +awake. + +"You must not fear," he said. "They cannot hurt you. You will soon be +safe at--at Frontenac." + +She was beginning to understand. Then all at once the light came into +her eyes, and she clung to his arm, which was still wet with the dew. + +"You are not going? They will not take you? Oh, M'sieu, I cannot--you +must not!" + +She would have said more, but he bent down and kissed her forehead. +Then, with his free hand he unclasped her fingers and went away. At +the door he turned. She was sitting on the bench, gazing after him +with a look that he never forgot. For all of the unhappiness, the +agony, that came to him from those eyes, it was with a lighter heart +that he faced the warriors who rushed to seize him. + +Every brave, woman, and child that the village could supply was in the +double line that stretched away from a point on the path not a hundred +yards distant to the long council house, which stood on a slight rise +of ground. They were armed with muskets, clubs, knives,--with any +instrument which could bruise or, mutilate the soldier as he passed, +and yet leave life in him for the harder trials to follow. Five +warriors, muskets in hand, had come to the hut. They sprang at Menard +as he stepped out through the doorway, striking him roughly and +holding his elbows behind his back. + +A shout went up from the waiting lines, and muskets and clubs were +waved in the air. The Captain stepped forward briskly with head erect, +scorning to glance at the braves who walked on either side. He knew +that they would not kill him in the gantlet; they would save him for +the fire. He had passed through this once, he could do it again, +conscious that every moment brought nearer the chance of a rescue by +the Big Throat. Perhaps twenty paces had been covered, and his +guardians were prodding him and trying to force him into a run, when +he heard a shout from the priest, and then the sounds of a struggle at +the hut. He turned his head, but a rude hand knocked it back. Again he +heard the priest's voice, and this time, with it, a woman's scream. + +The Captain hesitated for a second. The warriors prodded him again, +and before they could raise their arms he had jerked loose, snatched a +musket from one, and swinging it around his head, sent the two to the +ground, one with a cracked skull. Before those in the lines could +fairly see what had happened, he was running toward the hut with two +captured muskets and a knife. In front of the hut the three other +Indians were struggling with Father Claude, who was fighting in a +frenzy, and the maid. She was hanging back, and one redskin had +crushed her two wrists together in his hand and was dragging her. + +Menard was on them with a leap. They did not see him until a musket +whirled about their ears, and one man fell, rolling, at the maid's +feet. + +"Back into the hut!" he said roughly, and she obeyed. As he turned to +aid the priest he called after her, "Pile up the logs, quick!" + +She understood, and with the strength that came with the moment, she +dragged the logs to the door. + +Menard crushed down the two remaining Indians as he would have crushed +wild beasts, without a glance toward the mob that was running at him, +without a thought for the gash in his arm, made first by an arrow at +La Gallette and now reopened by a knife thrust. The Father, too, was +wounded, but still he could fight. There was but a second more. The +Captain threw the four muskets into the hut, and after them the +powder-horns and bullet-pouches which he had barely time to strip from +the dead men. Then he crowded the priest through the opening above the +logs, and came tumbling after. Another second saw the logs piled close +against the door, while a shower of bullets and arrows rattled against +them. + +"Take a musket, Father. Now, fire together! Quick, the others! Can you +load these, Mademoiselle?" + +"Yes." She reached for them, and poured the powder down the barrels. + +"Not too much, Mademoiselle. We may run short." + +"Yes, M'sieu." + +To miss a mark in that solid mob would have been difficult. The first +four shots brought down three men, and sent another limping away with +a bleeding foot. + +"Keep it up, Father! Don't wait an instant. Fast, Mademoiselle, fast! +Ah, there's one more. See, they are falling back. Take the other wall, +Father. See that they do not come from the rear." + +The priest ran about the hut, peering through the chinks. + +"I see nothing," he called. + +"You had better stay there, then. Keep a close watch." + +The maid laid two loaded muskets at the Captain's side. + +"Can we hold them off, M'sieu?" + +His eye was pressed to an opening, and he did not turn. + +"I fear not, Mademoiselle. A few minutes more may settle it. But we +can give them a fight." + +"If they come again, will you let me shoot, M'sieu?" + +He turned in surprise, and looked at her slight figure. + +"You, Mademoiselle?" + +"Yes; I can help. I have shot before." + +He laughed, with the excitement of the moment, and nodded. Then they +were silent. She knelt by his side and looked through another opening. +The women and children had retreated well up the path. The warriors +were crowded together, just out of range, talking and shouting +excitedly. A moment later a number of these slipped to the rear and +ran off between the huts. + +"What does that mean, M'sieu? Will they come around behind?" + +"Yes. Watch out, Father. You will hear from them soon." + +"Very well, M'sieu. It will be hard. There are trees and bushes here +for cover." + +Menard shrugged his shoulders, and made no reply. Time was all he +wished. + +"If the Big Throat started with the first light, he should be here +before another hour," he said to the maid, who was watching the +Indians. + +"Yes," she replied. + +"Is there any corn in the basket, Mademoiselle?" + +"I think so. I had forgotten." + +"We shall need it. Wait; I will look." + +He got the basket, and brought it to her. + +"There is no time for cooking, but you had better eat what you can. +And keep a close watch." + +"Here, M'sieu." She spread her skirt, and he poured out half of the +corn. + +"You give me too much. You must not." + +He laughed, and crossed to the priest, saying over his shoulder:-- + +"Mademoiselle is our new recruit. And the recruit must not complain of +her food. I cannot allow it." + +The moments passed with no sign of action along the line of redskins +on the path. They were quieter since the flanking party had started. +To Menard it was evident that a plan had been settled upon. In a like +position, a dozen Frenchmen would have stormed the hut, knowing that +only two or three could fall before they were under the shelter of the +walls; but even a large force of Indians was unwilling to take the +chance. + +"Father," called the Captain, "it may be better for you to take the +doorway. Mademoiselle and I will watch the forest." + +"Very well, M'sieu." + +The exchange was made rapidly. + +"Will you look out at the sides, as well?" Menard said to her. "Keep +moving about, and using all the openings. There are too many chances +for approach here." + +"If I see one, shall I shoot, M'sieu?" + +He smiled. "You had better tell me first." + +She stepped briskly about, peering through the chinks with an alert +eye. Menard found it hard to keep his own watch, so eager were his +eyes to watch her. But he turned resolutely toward the woods. + +"M'sieu!" she whispered. They had been silent for a long time. "To the +left in the bushes! It looks like a head." + +"Can you make sure?" + +"Yes. It is a head. May I shoot?" + +Menard nodded without looking. She rested her musket in the opening +between two logs, and fired quickly. + +"Did you hit him?" + +"Yes, I think so." + +She was breathless with excitement, but she reloaded at once. A moment +later Menard fired, and then the priest. + +"On all sides, eh?" the Captain muttered. He called to the others: +"Waste no powder. Shoot only when you are sure of hitting. They will +fall back again. Two dead Indians will discourage the wildest +charge." + +The firing went on at intervals, but still the warriors kept at it, +creeping up from bush to bush and tree to tree. Menard's face grew +more serious as the time went by. He began to realize that the Long +Arrow was desperate, that he was determined on vengeance before the +other chiefs could come. It had been a typical savage thought that had +led him to bring Menard to this village, where he had once lived, +rather than to the one in which the chief held greater permanent +authority; the scheme was too complete and too near its end for delay +or failure to be considered. Still the attacking party drew nearer, +swelled every moment by a new group. Then Menard saw their object. +They would soon be near enough to dash in close to the wall, where +their very nearness would disable the white men's muskets. + +"Work fast!" he said suddenly. "They must not get nearer!" + +"Yes," panted the maid. Her shoulder was bruised by the heavy musket, +her arms ached with the quick ramming and lifting, but she loaded and +fired as rapidly as she could. + +"Father," called the Captain. "Quick! come here. They are too many for +me!" + +The priest ran across the floor, half blinded by the smoke, cocking +his musket as he came. "Where, M'sieu?" + +"There--at the oak! They are preparing for a rush!" + +He fired, at the last word, and one warrior sprawled on his face. The +priest followed. + +"That will check them. Now back to the door!" + +Father Claude turned. The light was dim and the smoke heavy. His eyes +smarted and blurred, so that he heard, rather than saw, the logs come +crashing back into the hut. Menard heard it also; and together the two +men dashed forward. They met the rush of Indians with blows that could +not be stayed, but there was a score pushing behind the few who had +entered. Slowly, the two backed across the hut. The stock of Menard's +musket broke short off against the head of the Beaver. His foot struck +another, and he snatched it up and fought on. + +"Mademoiselle," he called, "where are you?" + +"Here, M'sieu!" + +The voice was behind him. Then he felt a weight on his shoulder. The +wearied maid, for want of another rest for her musket, fired past his +face straight into the dark mass of Indians. She tried to reload, but +Menard was swept back against her. With one arm he caught and held her +tight against him, swinging the musket with his free hand. She clung +to him, hardly breathing. They reached the rear wall. One tall warrior +bounded forward and struck the musket from his hand. That was the end +of the struggle. They were torn apart, and dragged roughly out into +the blinding sunlight. + +Among the Iroquois, the torture was a religious rite, which nothing, +once it was begun, could hasten. It may have been that the younger +warriors would have rushed upon the captives to kill them; but if so, +their elders held them back. The long lines formed again, and the +doctors ran about the little group before the hut door, leaping and +singing. Menard lay on his face, held down by three warriors. He tried +to turn his head to see what had been done with the maid, but could +not. He would have called to her, but to make a sound now would be to +his captors an admission of weakness. + +A great clamour came from the lines. Menard wondered at the delay. He +heard a movement a few yards away. Warriors were grunting, and feet +shuffled on the ground. He heard the priest say, in a calm voice, +"Courage, Mademoiselle"; and for a moment he struggled desperately. +Then, realizing his mistake, he lay quiet. When at last he was jerked +to his feet, he saw that the priest and the maid had been forced to +take the two first places in the line. The maid was struggling in the +grasp of two braves, one of whom made her hold a war club by closing +his own hand over hers. Menard understood; his friends were to strike +the first blows. + +The guards tried to drag him forward, but he went firmly with them, +smiling scornfully. There was a delay, as the line was reached, for +the maid could not be made to hold the club. Another man dropped out +of the line to aid the two who held her. + +"Strike me, Mademoiselle," said Menard. "It is best." + +She shook her head. Father Claude spoke:-- + +"M'sieu is right." + +It was then that she first looked at the Captain. When she saw the +straight figure and the set face, a sense of her own weakness came to +her, and she, too, straightened. Menard stepped forward; and raising +the club she let it fall lightly on his shoulders. A shout went up. + +"Hard, Mademoiselle, hard," he said. "You must." + +She pressed her lips together, closed her eyes, and swung the club +with all her strength. Then her muscles gave way, and she sank to the +ground, not daring to look after the Captain as he passed on between +the two rows of savages. She heard the shouts and the wild cries, but +dimly, as if they came from far away. The confusion grew worse, and +then died down. From screaming the voices dropped into excited +argument. She did not know what it meant,--not until Father Claude +bent over her and spoke gently. + +"What is it?" she whispered, not looking up. "What have they done?" + +"Nothing. The Big Throat has come." + +She raised her eyes helplessly. + +"He has come?" + +"Yes. I must go back. Take heart, Mademoiselle." + +He hurried away and slipped through the crowd that had gathered about +Menard and the chief. She sat in a little heap on the ground, not +daring to feel relieved, wondering what would come next. She could not +see the Captain, but as the other voices dropped lower and lower, she +could catch now and then a note of his voice. In a few moments, the +warriors who were pressing close on the outskirts of the crowd were +pushed aside, and he came out. She looked at him, then at the ground, +shuddering, for there was blood on his forehead. Even when he stood +over her she could not look up or speak. + +"There is hope now, Mademoiselle. He is here." + +"Yes--Father Claude told me. Is--are you to be released?" + +"Hardly that, but we shall at least have a little time. And I hope to +get a hearing at the council." + +"He will let you?" + +"I have not asked him yet." He sat beside her, wearily. "There will be +time for that. He is talking now with the Long Arrow and the old +warriors. He is not fond of the Long Arrow." In the excitement he had +not seen that she was limp and exhausted, but now he spoke quickly, +"They have hurt you, Mademoiselle?" + +"No, I am not hurt. But you--your head--" + +"Only a bruise." He drew his sleeve across his forehead. "I had rather +a bad one in the arm." + +He rolled up his sleeve in a matter-of-fact way. Her eyes filled. + +"Oh, M'sieu, you did not tell me. I can help you. Wait, I will be +back." + +She rose, and started toward the spring, but he sprang to her side. + +"You must not trouble. It is not bad. There will be time for this." + +"No. Come with me if you will." + +She ran with nervous steps; and he strode after. At the side of the +bubbling pool she knelt, and looked up impatiently. + +"It will not do to let this go, M'sieu. Can you roll your sleeve +higher?" + +He tried, but the heavy cloth was stiff. + +"If you will take off the coat--" + +He unlaced it at the breast, and drew it off. She took his wrist, and +plunged his arm into the pool, washing it with quick, gentle fingers, +drying it on his coat. Then she leaned back, half perplexed, and +looked around. + +"What is it?" + +"A cloth. No,"--as he reached for his coat;--"that is too rough. Here, +M'sieu,--" she tore a strip from her skirt, and wrapped it around the +forearm. "Hold it with your other hand, just a moment." + +She hurried to the hut, and returning with needle and thread, stitched +the bandage. Then she helped him on with his coat, and they walked +slowly to the hut. + +"Where is Father Claude?" she asked. + +He pointed to a thicket beyond the hut. There, kneeling by the body of +a dying Indian, was the priest, praying silently. He had baptized the +warrior with dew from the leaves at his side, and now was claiming his +soul for the greater King in whose service his own life had been +spent. + +The Captain sat beside the maid, their backs to the logs, and watched +the shifting groups of warriors. He told her of the arrival of the Big +Throat, and of the confusion that resulted. Then for a time they were +silent, waiting for the impromptu council to reach a conclusion. The +warriors finally began to drift away, though the younger and more +curious ones still hung about. A group of braves came slowly toward +the hut. + +"That is the Big Throat in front," said Menard. "The broad-shouldered +warrior beside him is the Talking Eagle, the best-known chief of the +clan of the Bear. They are almost here. We had better stand. Are you +too tired?" + +"No, indeed." + +Father Claude had seen the group approaching, and he joined Menard. +The Big Throat stood motionless and looked at the Captain. + +"My brother, the Big Buffalo, has asked to speak with the Big Throat," +he said at length. + +Menard bowed, but did not reply. + +"He asks for his release,--and for the holy man and the squaw?" + +"The Big Buffalo asks nothing save what the chiefs of the Onondagas +would give to a chief taken in battle. The Long Arrow has lied to the +Big Buffalo. He has soiled his hands with the blood of women and holy +Fathers. The Big Buffalo was told by Onontio, whom all must obey, to +come to the Onondagas and give them his word. The Long Arrow was +impatient. He would not let him journey in peace. He wished to injure +him; to let his blood. Now the Big Buffalo is here. He asks that he +may be heard at the council, to give the chief the word of Onontio. +That is all." + +The Big Throat's face was inscrutable. He looked at Menard without a +word until the silence grew tense, and the maid caught her breath. +Then he said, with the cool, diplomatic tone that concealed whatever +kindness or justice may have prompted the words:-- + +"The Big Buffalo shall be heard at the council to-night. The chiefs of +the Onondagas never are deaf to the words of Onontio." + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE LONG HOUSE. + + +The council-house was a hundred paces or more in length. The frame was +of tall hickory saplings planted in the ground in two rows, with the +tops bent over and lashed together in the form of an arch. The +building was not more than fifteen yards wide. The lower part of the +outer wall was of logs, the upper part and the roof of bark. Instead +of a chimney there was a narrow opening in the roof, extending the +length of the building. + +A row of smouldering fires reached nearly from end to end of the +house. The smoke struggled upward, but failing, for the greater part, +to find the outlet overhead, remained inside to clog the air and dim +the eyes. The chiefs sat in a long ellipse in the central part of the +house, some sitting erect with legs crossed, others half reclining, +while a few lay sprawling, their chins resting on their hands. The Big +Throat sat with the powerful chiefs of the nation at one end. The +lesser sachems, including the Long Arrow, sat each before his own band +of followers. The second circle was made up of the older and +better-known warriors. Behind these, pressing close to catch every +word of the argument, were braves, youths, women, and children, mixed +together indiscriminately. A low platform extended the length of the +building against the wall on each side, and this held another +crowding, elbowing, whispering mass of redskins. Every chief and +warrior, as well as most of the women, held each a pipe between his +teeth, and puffed out clouds of smoke into the thick air. + +The maid's eyes smarted and blurred in the smoke. It reached her +throat, and she coughed. + +"Lie down, Mademoiselle," said Menard. "Breathe close to the ground +and it will not be so bad." + +She hesitated, looking at the Big Throat, who sat with arms folded, +proud and dignified. Then she smiled, and lay almost flat on the +ground, breathing in the current of less impure air that passed +beneath the smoke. They had been placed in the inner circle, next to +the chiefs of the nations, where Menard's words would have the weight +that, to the mind of the Big Throat, was due to a representative of +the French Governor, even in time of war. Father Claude, sitting on +the left of the maid, was looking quietly into the fire. He had +committed the case into the hands of Providence, and he was certain +that the right words would be given to the Captain. + +It was nearing the close of the afternoon. A beam of sunlight slipped +in at one end of the roof-opening, and slanted downward, clearing a +shining way through the smoke. A Cayuga chief was speaking. + +"The corn is ripening in the fields about the Onondaga village. As I +came down the hills of the west to-day I saw the green tops waving in +the wind, and I was glad, for I knew that my brothers would feast in +plenty, that their Manitous have been kind. The Cayugas, too, have +great fields of corn, and the Senecas. Their women have worked +faithfully that the land might be plentiful. + +"But a storm is breaking over the cornfields of the Senecas. It is a +great cloud that has come down from the north, with the flash of fire +and the roar of thunder, and with hailstones of lead that will leave +no stalk standing. My brothers know the strength of the north wind. +They have not forgotten other storms that would have laid waste the +villages of the Senecas and the Mohawks. And they have not forgotten +their Manitous, who have whispered to them when the clouds appeared in +the northern sky, 'Rise up, Mohawks and Oneidas and Onondagas and +Cayugas and Senecas, and stand firmly against this storm, and your +homes and your fields shall not be destroyed.'" + +The house was silent with interest. The maid raised her head and +watched the stolid faces of the chiefs in the inner circle. Not an +expression changed from beginning to end of the speech. Beyond, she +could see other, younger faces, some eager, some bitter, some defiant, +some smiling, and all showing the flush of excitement,--but these grim +old chiefs had long schooled their faces to hide their thoughts. They +held their blankets close, and puffed deliberately at their pipes with +hardly a movement of the lips. + +The Cayuga went on:-- + +"Messengers have come to the Cayugas from their brothers, the Senecas, +telling of the storm that is rushing on them. The Cayugas know the +hearts of the Five Nations. When the Mohawks have risen to defend +their homes, the hearts of the Cayugas have been warm, and they have +taken up the hatchet with their brothers. When the Onondagas have gone +on the war-path, Senecas and Cayugas have gone with them, and the +trouble of one has been the trouble of all." + +"The good White Father is no longer the war chief of the white men. +The Great Mountain, who knew the voice of the forest, who spoke +with the tongue of the redman, has been called back to his +Great-Chief-Across-the-Water. His word was the word of kindness, and +when he spoke our hearts were warm. But another mountain is now the +war chief, a mountain that spits fire and lead, that speaks with a +double tongue. The Five Nations have never turned from a foe. The +enemy of the Senecas has been the enemy of the Mohawks. If the storm +strikes the fields of the Senecas, their brothers will not turn +away and stop their ears and say they do not hear the thunder, for +they remember the storms of other seasons, and they know that the +hail that destroys one field will destroy other fields. And so this is +the word of the Cayugas:--Let all the warriors of the Five Nations +take up the hatchet; let them go on the war-path to tell this +white chief with the double tongue that the Five Nations are one +nation; that they are bolder than thunder, swifter than fire, +stronger than lead." + +The maid found it hard, with her imperfect knowledge of the language, +to follow his metaphors. She had partly risen, heedless of the smoke, +and was leaning forward with her eyes fixed on the stern face of the +speaker. Menard bent down, and half smiled at her excitement. + +"What is it?" she whispered. "He is for war?" + +"Yes; he naturally would be." There was a stir about the house, as the +speech ended, and they could speak softly without drawing notice. "The +Cayugas are nearer to the Senecas than the other nations, and they +fear that they too may suffer." + +"Then you do not think they all feel with him?" + +"No; the Oneidas and Mohawks, and even the Onondagas, are too far to +the east to feel in danger. They know how hard it would be for the +Governor to move far from his base in this country. It may be that the +younger warriors will be for fighting, but the older heads will think +of the corn." + +"Will the Big Throat speak?" + +"Yes; but not like these others. He talks simply and forcibly. That is +the way when a chief's reputation is made. The Big Throat won his +name, as a younger brave, by his wonderful oratory." + +"And you, M'sieu,--you will be heard?" + +"Yes; I think so. We must not talk any more now. They will not like +it." + +The Cayuga was followed by a wrinkled old chief of the Oneidas, called +the Hundred Skins. He stepped forward and stood near the fire, his +blanket drawn close about his shoulders, where the red light could +play on his face. A whisper ran around the outer circle, for it was +known that he stood for peace. + +"My Cayuga brother has spoken wisely," he began, in a low but distinct +voice. He looked slowly about the house to command attention. "The +Oneidas have not forgotten the storms of other seasons; they have not +forgotten the times of starving, when neither the Manitous of the +redman nor the God of the white man came to help. The grain stood +brown in the fields; the leaves hung dead from the trees; there was no +wind to cool the fever that carried away old men and young men, squaws +and children. And when the wind came, and the cold and snow of the +winter, there was no food in the lodges of the Five Nations. My +brothers have heard that the corn is rising to a man's height--they +have seen it to-day in the fields of the Onondagas. They know that +this corn must be cared for like the children of their lodges, if they +wish food to eat when the winter comes and the fields are dead. They +know what it will cost them to take the war-path. + +"Twelve moons have not gone since the chiefs of the Senecas rose in +this house and called on the warriors of the Five Nations to take up +the hatchet against the white men of the north. The skins of the +beaver were talking in their ears. They saw great canoes on the white +man's rivers loaded with skins, and their hands itched and their +hearts turned inward. Then the wise chiefs of the Oneidas and Cayugas +and Onondagas and Mohawks spoke well. They were not on the war-path; +the hatchet was deep in the ground, and young trees were growing over +it. Then the Oneidas said that the White Chief would not forget if the +Senecas heeded their itching hands and listened to the bad medicine of +the beaver skins in their ears. But the Senecas were not wise, and +they took up the hatchet. + +"This is the word of the Oneidas to the chiefs of the Long House:--The +Seneca has put his foot in the trap. Then shall the Oneida and +Onondaga and Cayuga and Mohawk rush after, that they too may put in +their feet where they can get away only by gnawing off the bone? Shall +the wise chiefs of the Long House run into fight like the dogs of +their village? The Oneidas say no! The Senecas took up the hatchet; +let them bury it where they can. And when the winter comes, the +Oneidas will send them corn that they may not have another time of +starving." + +Menard was watching the Oneida with eyes that fairly snapped. The low +voice stopped, and another murmur ran around the outer circles. The +Hundred Skins had spoken boldly, and the Cayuga young men looked +stern. The chief stepped slowly back and resumed his seat, and then, +not before, did Menard's face relax. He looked about cautiously to see +if he was observed, then settled back and gazed stolidly into the +fire. The old Oneida had played directly into his hand; by letting +slip the motive for the Seneca raid of the winter before, he had +strengthened the one weak point in the speech Menard meant to make. + +The next speaker was one of the younger war chiefs of the Onondagas. +He made an effort to speak with the calmness of the older men, but +there was now and then a flash in his eye and an ill-controlled vigour +in his voice that told Menard and the priest how strong was the war +party of this village. The Onondaga plunged into his speech without +the customary deliberation. + +"Our brothers, the Senecas, have sent to us for aid. We have been +called to the Long House to hear the voice of the Senecas,--not from +the lips of their chiefs, for they have fields and villages to guard +against the white man, and they are not here to stand before the +council and ask what an Iroquois never refuses. The Cayuga has spoken +with the voice of the Seneca. Shall the chiefs and warriors of the +Long House say to the Cayuga, 'Go back to your village and send +messengers to the Senecas to tell them that their brothers of the Long +House have corn and squaws and children that are more to them than the +battles of their brothers--tell the Senecas that the Oneidas must eat +and cannot fight'? There is corn in the fields of the Oneidas. But +there is food for all the Five Nations in the great house on the +Lake." + +The speaker paused to let his words sink in. Menard whispered to the +maid, in reply to an inquiring look. "He means the Governor's base of +supplies at La Famine." + +The Onondaga's voice began to rise. + +"When the Oneida thinks of his corn, is he afraid to leave it to his +squaws? Does he hesitate because he thinks the white warriors are +strong enough to turn on him and drive him from his villages? This is +not the speech that young warriors are taught to expect from the Long +House. When has the Long House been guided by fear? No. If the Oneida +is hungry, let him eat from the stores of the white man, at the house +on the Lake. The Cayugas and Onondagas will draw their belts tighter, +that the Oneida may be filled." + +The young chief looked defiantly around. There was a murmur from the +outer circle, but the chiefs were grave and silent. The Hundred Skins +gazed meditatively into the fire as if he had not heard, slowly +puffing at his pipe. The taunt of cowardice had sprung out in the heat +of youth; his dignity demanded that he ignore it. The speech had its +effect on the Cayugas and the young men, but the older heads were +steady. + +Other chiefs rose, talked, and resumed their places, giving all views +of the situation and of the relations between the Iroquois and the +French,--but still little expression showed on the inner circle of +faces. The maid after a time grew more accustomed to the smoke, and +sat up. She was puzzled by the conflicting arguments and the lack of +enthusiasm. Fully two hours had passed, and there was no sign of an +agreement. The eager spectators, in the outer rows, gradually settled +down. + +During a lull between two speeches, Menard spoke to the maid, who was +beginning to show traces of weariness. + +"It may be a long sitting, Mademoiselle. We must make the best of +it." + +"Yes." She smiled. "I am a little tired. It has been a hard day." + +"Too hard, poor child. But I hope to see you safe very soon now. I am +relying on the Big Throat. He, with a few of the older chiefs, sees +farther than these hot-heads. He knows that France must conquer in the +end, and is wise enough to make terms whenever he can." + +"But can he, M'sieu? Will they obey him?" + +"Not obey, exactly; he will not command them. Indians have no +discipline such as ours. The chiefs rely on their judgment and +influence. But they have followed the guidance of the Big Throat for +too many years to leave it now." + +Another chief rose to speak. The sun had gone, and the long building +was growing dark rapidly. A number of squaws came through the circle, +throwing wood on the fires. The new flames shot up, and threw a +flickering light on the copper faces, many of which still wore the +paint of the morning. The smoke lay over them in wavering films, now +and again half hiding some sullen face until it seemed to fade away +into the darkness. + +At last the whole situation lay clear before the council. Some +speakers were for war, some for peace, others for aiding the Senecas +as a matter of principle. The house was divided. + +There was a silence, and the pipes glowed in the dusk; then the Long +Arrow rose. The listless spectators stirred and leaned forward. The +maid, too, was moved, feeling that at last the moment of decision was +near. She was surprised to see that he had none of the savage +excitement of the morning. He was as quiet and tactful in speech as +the Big Throat himself. + +Slowly the Long Arrow drew his blanket close about him and began to +speak. The house grew very still, for the whole tribe knew that he +had, in his anger of the morning, disputed the authority of the Big +Throat. There had been hot words, and the great chief had rebuked him +contemptuously within the hearing of half a hundred warriors. Now he +was to stand before the council, and not a man in that wide circle but +wondered how much he would dare to say. + +He seemed not to observe the curious glances. Simply and quietly he +began the narrative of the capture of the hunting party at Fort +Frontenac. At the first words Menard turned to Father Claude with a +meaning look. The maid saw it, and her lips framed a question. + +"It is better than I hoped," Menard whispered. "He is bringing it up +himself." + +"Not two moons have waned," the Long Arrow was saying, "since five +score brave young warriors left our village for the hunt. They left +the hatchet buried under the trees. They took no war-paint. The Great +Mountain had said that there was peace between the redman and the +white man; he had asked the Onondagas to hunt on the banks of the +Great River; he had told them that his white sons at the Stone House +would take them as brothers into their lodges. When the Great Mountain +said this, through the mouths of the holy Fathers, he lied." + +The words came out in the same low, even tone in which he had begun +speaking, but they sank deep. The house was hushed; even the stirring +of the children on the benches died away. + +"The Great Mountain has lied to his children,"--Menard's keen ears +caught the bitter, if covered, sarcasm in the last two words; they +had been Governor Frontenac's favourite term in addressing the +Iroquois--"and his children know his voice no longer. There is corn +in the fields? Let it grow or rot. There are squaws and children +in our lodges? Let them live or die. It is not the Senecas who ask +our aid; it is the voice of a hundred sons and brothers and youths +and squaws calling from far beyond the great water,--calling from +chains, calling from fever, calling from the Happy Hunting Ground, +where they have gone without guns or corn or blankets, where they +lie with nothing to comfort them." The Long Arrow stood erect, with +head thrown back and eyes fixed on the opposite wall. "Our sons and +brothers went like children to the Stone House of the white man. +Their hands were stretched before them, their muskets hung empty +from their shoulders, their bowstrings were loosened; the calumet was +in their hands. But the sons of Onontio lied as their fathers had +taught them. They took the calumet; they called the Onondagas into +their great lodge; and in the sleep of the white man's fire-water +they chained them. Five score Onondagas have gone to be slaves to +the Great-Chief-Across-the-Water, who loves his children and is kind +to them, and would take them all under his arm where no storm can +harm them. My brothers of the Long House have heard the promises of +Onontio, and they have seen the fork in his tongue. And so they +choose this time to speak of corn and squaws and children." The +keen, closely set eyes slowly lowered and swept around the circle. +"Is this the time to speak of corn? Our Manitou has sent this +Great Mountain into our country. He has placed him in our hands so +that we may strike, so that we may tell the white man with our +muskets that our Manitou is stern and just, and that no Iroquois +will listen to the idle words of a double tongue." + +He paused, readjusted his blanket, and then stood motionless, that all +might digest his words. Then, after a long wait, he went on:-- + +"There are children to-day in our lodges who can remember the Big +Buffalo, who can remember our adopted son who shared our fires and +food, who shared our hunts, who lived with us as freely as an +Onondaga. We saw him every day, and we forgot that his heart was as +white as his skin, for his tongue was the tongue of an Onondaga. We +forgot that the white man has two tongues. It has not been long, my +brothers,--not long enough for an Onondaga to forget. But the Big +Buffalo is a mangy dog. He forgot the brothers of his lodge. He it was +who took the Onondaga hunters and carried them away to be slaves. But +the Manitou did not forget. He has put this Big Buffalo into our +hands, that we may give him what should be given to the dog who +forgets his master." + +Again the Long Arrow paused. + +"No; this is not the time to speak of corn. It is not the Senecas who +call us, it is our brothers and their squaws and children. The +Iroquois have been the greatest warriors of the world. They have +driven the Hurons to the far northern forests; the Illinois to the +Father of Waters, two moons' travel to the west; the Delawares to the +waters of the south. They have told the white man to stay within his +boundaries, and he has stayed. They have been kind to the white man; +they have welcomed the holy Fathers into their villages. But now the +Great Mountain makes slaves of the Onondagas. He brings his warriors +across the Great Lake to punish the Senecas and destroy their lodges. +Shall the Long House of the Five Nations turn a white face to this +Great Mountain? Shall the Long House call out in a shaking voice, +'See, Onontio, there are no heads on our arrows, no flints in our +muskets! our hatchets are dull, our knives nicked and rusted! come, +Onontio, and strike us, that we may know you are our master and our +father'?" + +The Long Arrow's voice had risen only slightly, but now it dropped; he +went on, in a tone that was keen as a knife, but so low that those at +the farther end of the house leaned forward and sat motionless. + +"It has been said to-day to the Long House that we shall close our +ears to the thunder of the Great Mountain, that we should think of our +corn and our squaws, and leave the Senecas to fight their own battles. +But the Long House will not do this. The Long House will not give up +the liberty that has been the pride of the Iroquois since first the +rivers ran to the lake, and the moss grew on the trees, and the wind +waved the tops of the long grass. The Great Mountain has come to take +this liberty. He shall not have it. No; he shall lose his own--we will +leave his bones to dry where the Seneca dogs run loose. The Big +Buffalo shall die to tell the white man that the Iroquois never +forgets; the Great Mountain shall die to tell the white man that the +Iroquois is free." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +THE VOICE OF THE GREAT MOUNTAIN. + + +There was no lack of interest now in the council. The weariness left +the maid's eyes as she followed the speeches that came in rapid +succession. There was still the disagreement, the confusion of a dozen +different views and demands; but the speech of the Long Arrow had +pointed the discussion, it had set up an opinion to be either defended +or attacked. + +"Will the Big Throat speak now?" asked Mademoiselle, leaning close to +Menard. + +"I hardly think so. I don't know what will come next." + +"When will you speak, M'sieu?" + +"Not until word from the Big Throat. It would be a breach of +courtesy." + +One warrior, a member of the Beaver family, and probably a blood +relative of the Beaver who had been killed in the fight of the +morning, took advantage of the pause to speak savagely for war and +vengeance. He counted those who had fallen since the sun rose, and +appealed to their families to destroy the man who had killed them. He +was not a chief, but his fiery speech aroused a murmur of approval +from scattered groups of the spectators. This sympathy from those +about him, with the anger which was steadily fed by his own hot words, +gradually drove from his mind the observance of etiquette which was so +large a part of an important council. Still speaking, he left his +place, and walking slowly between two of the fires and across the +circle, paused before Menard. + +"The dog whom we fed and grew has turned against its masters, as the +dogs of your own lodges, my brothers, will bite the hand that pats +their heads. It has hung about outside of the Great Lodge to kill the +hunter who sees no danger ahead. And now, when this dog is caught, and +tied at your door, would not my brothers bring him to the end of all +evil beasts?" As he finished, he made a gesture of bitter contempt and +kicked Menard. + +A shout went up, and voices clamoured, protesting, denouncing, +exulting. The Captain's eyes flashed fire. It was not for a second +that he hesitated. Weakness, to an Indian, is the last, the greatest +fault. If he should take this insult, it would end forever not only +his own chance of escape, with the maid and the priest, but all hope +of safety for the Governor's column. He sprang to his feet before the +Indian, whose arm was still stretched out in the gesture, and with two +quick blows knocked him clear of his feet, and then kicked him into +the fire. + +A dozen hands dragged the warrior from the fire and stamped out a +blaze that had started in the fringe of one legging. Every man in the +house was on his feet, shouting and screaming. Menard stood with his +hands at his side, smiling, with the same look of scorn he had worn in +the morning when they led him to the torture. Father Claude drew +closer to the maid, and the two sat without moving. Then above the +uproar rose the voice of the Big Throat; and slowly the noise died +away. The chief stepped to the centre of the circle, but before he +could speak Menard had reached his side, and motioned to him to be +silent. + +"My brothers," he said, looking straight at the fallen warrior, who +was scrambling to his feet,--"my brothers, the Big Buffalo is sorry +that the Onondagas have among them a fool who thinks himself a +warrior. The Big Buffalo is not here to fight fools. He is here to +talk to chiefs. He is glad that the fool speaks only for himself and +not for the brave men of the Long House." He walked deliberately back +and resumed his seat by the maid. + +[Illustration: "Menard stood ... smiling with the same look of scorn he +had worn ... when they led him to the torture."] + +"Courage, Mademoiselle," he said close to her ear. "It is all right." + +"What will they do, M'sieu?" + +"Nothing. I have won. Wait--the Big Throat is speaking." + +One by one the warriors fell back to their seats. Some were muttering, +some were smiling; but all were subdued. The Big Throat's voice was +calm and firm. + +"The Big Buffalo has spoken well. The word of a fool is not the word +of the Long House. The White Chief comes to give us the voice of +Onontio, and we will listen." + +He turned toward Menard, and then resumed his seat. + +The Captain rose, and looked about the circle. The chiefs were +motionless. Even the Long Arrow, now that his outburst was past, +closed his lips over the stem of his pipe and gazed at the smoke. +Father Claude drew forward the bundle and opened it, the maid helping. +Some of the boys behind them crowded closer to see the presents. + +Menard spoke slowly and quietly. The rustling and whispering in the +outer circle died away, so that every word was distinct. + +"When the Five Nations have given their word to another nation, it has +not been necessary to sign a paper; it has not been necessary to keep +a record. The Long Arrow has said that the Iroquois do not forget. He +is right. The words that have gone out from the councils have never +been forgotten. I see here, in this council, the faces of warriors who +have grown old in serving their people, of chiefs who are bent and +wrinkled with the cares of many generations. I see in the eyes of my +brothers that they have not forgotten the Onontio, who went away to +his greater chief only five seasons ago. They have seen this Onontio +in war and peace. They have listened to his silver tongue in the +council. They have called themselves his children, and have known that +he was a wise and kind father. They remember the promises they made +him. But the Senecas did not remember. The Seneca has no ears; he has +a hole in his head, and the words of his father have passed through. +The Senecas promised Onontio that they would not take the white man's +beaver. But when the English came to their lodges and whispered in +their ears, the hole was stopped. The English whispered of brandy and +guns and powder and hatchets and knives. They told the Senecas that +these things should be given to them if they would steal the beaver. +The English are cowards--they sent the Senecas to do what they were +afraid to do. And then the hole in the Seneca's head was stopped--the +Seneca who had forgotten the words of Onontio remembered the words of +the English. + +"My brothers of the Long House had not forgotten the promises they had +given Onontio. When the Seneca chiefs called for aid in stealing the +beaver, my brothers were wise and said no. The Onondagas and Cayugas +and Oneidas and Mohawks were loyal--they kept their promise, and +Onontio has not forgotten; he will not forget. + +"This is what the Great Mountain would say to you, my brothers: You +have been faithful to your word, and he is pleased. He knows that the +Onondagas are his children. And he knows why the Senecas left their +villages and fields to plunder his white children. It was for the +skins of the beaver, which the white braves had taken from their own +forests and would bring in their canoes down the Ottawa to trade at +the white man's villages. He knows, my brothers, that the Senecas had +tired of their promises, and now would steal the beaver and sell it to +the English. What comes to the boy when he climbs the tree to steal +the honey which the bees have gathered and taken to their home? Is he +not stung and bitten until he cries that he will not disturb the bees +again? The Senecas have tried to take that which is to the white man +as the honey is to the bee; and they too must be stung and bitten +until they have learned that the Great Mountain will always protect +those who deserve his aid. He has sent you a comb from the shell of +the great sea-tortoise, more precious than a thousand wampum shells, +to tell you that as the sea-monster pursues its enemies, so will he +pursue those who cannot keep their promises--who lie to him." + +Father Claude handed him the comb, and he laid it before the Big +Throat. It was evident that he had been closely followed, and he +started on his second word with more vigour. + +"Your chiefs have spoken to-day of the storm cloud that has swept down +from the north; your runners have told you that it is not a cloud, but +an army, that has come up the great river and across the lake of +Frontenac to the country of the Senecas. Do my brothers know what a +great army follows their White Father when he sets out to punish his +children? More than twenty score of trained warriors are in this war +party, and every warrior carries a musket; to-night they are marching +on the Seneca villages. They will destroy those villages as a brave +would destroy a nest of hornets in his lodge. Not one lodge will be +left standing, not one stalk of corn. + +"The Oneidas and Onondagas and Cayugas talk of their cornfields. But +even the Cayugas need have no fear. For Onontio is a wise and just +father; he punishes only those that offend him. The Senecas have +broken their promises, and the Senecas must be punished, but the other +nations are still the children of the Great Mountain, and his hand is +over them. The Big Buffalo has come from the Great Mountain to tell +you that he will not harm the Cayugas; their fields and lodges are +safe." + +There was a stir at this, and then quiet, as the spectators settled +back to hear the rest of Menard's speech. Here was a captive who spoke +as boldly as their own chiefs, who commanded their attention as a +present bearer from the White Chief. And they knew, all of them, from +the way in which he was choosing his words, coolly ignoring the more +important subjects until he should be ready to deal with them, that he +spoke with authority. He knew his auditors, and he let them see that +he knew them. + +"The Senecas have listened to the English. What do they expect from +them? Do they think that the English wish to help them? Do they look +for wealth and support from the English? My brothers of the Long House +know better. They have seen the English hide from the anger of the +Great Mountain. They have seen the iron hand of New France reach out +across the northern country, and along the shores of the great lakes, +and down the Father of Waters in the far west, while the English were +clinging to their little strip of land on the edge of the sea. My +brothers know who is strong and who is weak. Never have the fields of +the Five Nations been so rich and so large. No wars have disturbed +them. They have grown and prospered. Do the Senecas think it is the +English who have made them great? No--the Senecas are not fools. They +know that the Great Mountain has driven away their enemies and given +them peace and plenty. My brothers of the Long House remembered this +when the Senecas came to them and asked for aid in stealing the +beaver. They stopped their ears; they knew that Onontio was their +father, and that they must be faithful to him if they wished to have +plenty in their lodges. + +"Onontio is a patient father. Let the Senecas repent, and he will +forgive them. Let them bury the hatchet, and he will forgive them. Let +them be satisfied with peace and honest trade, and he will buy their +furs, and give them fair payment. And then their cornfields shall grow +so large that a fleet runner cannot pass around them in half a moon. +They shall have no more famine. Their pouches shall be full of powder, +their muskets new and bright. Their women shall have warm clothing and +many beads. Nowhere shall there be such prosperous nations as here +among the Iroquois. If the Senecas have broken their pledges and have +not repented, they must be punished. But the Cayugas and Onondagas and +Oneidas and Mohawks have not broken their pledges. The Great Mountain +has sent the Big Buffalo to tell them that he has seen that they are +loyal, and he is pleased. He knows that they are wise. If the +Onondagas have a grievance, he will not forget it, and if they ask for +vengeance he will hear them. The Great Mountain knows that the +Onondagas are his children, that they will not make war upon their +father. He sends this coat of seal fur that the hearts of the Cayugas +and Onondagas and Oneidas and Mohawks may be kept warm, and to tell +them that he loves them and will protect them." + +The maid's eyes sparkled with excitement. + +"I wish they would speak, or laugh, or do something," she whispered to +Father Claude, "Are they not interested? They hardly seem to hear +him." + +The priest looked at her gravely. + +"Yes," he replied, "they are listening." + +The time had come to speak of La Grange. The Captain had been steadily +leading up to this moment. He had tried to show the Indians that they +had no complaint, no cause for war, unless it was the one incident at +Fort Frontenac. He knew that the chiefs not only understood his +argument, but that they were quietly waiting for him to approach this +real cause of trouble, and were probably curious to see how he would +meet it. The mind of the Iroquois, when in the council, separated from +the heat and emotion of the dance, the hunt, the war-path, was +remarkably keen. Menard felt sure that if he could present his case +logically and firmly, it would appeal to most of the chief and older +warriors. Then the maid came into his thoughts, and he knew, though he +did not look down, that she was gazing up at him and waiting. He +hesitated for a moment longer. The chiefs, too, were waiting. The Long +House was hushed:--three hundred faces were looking at him through the +twisting, curling smoke that blurred the scene into an unreal picture. +Yes, the time had come to speak of La Grange; and he spoke the first +words hurriedly, stepping half-unconsciously farther from the maid. + +There was a part of the true story of the capture which he did not +tell,--the Governor's part. For the rest, it was all there, every word +about La Grange and his treacherous act coming out almost brutally. + +"Your speakers have told you of the hunting party that was taken into +the stone house, and put into chains, and sent away to be slaves to +the Chief-Across-the-Water. There is a chief at the stone house whom +you have seen fighting bravely in many a battle. He is a bold warrior; +none is so quick or so tireless as Captain la Grange. But he has a +devil in his heart. The bad medicine of white man and redman, the +fire-water, is always close to him, ready to whisper to him and guide +him. It was not the father at Quebec that broke the faith with the +Onondagas. It was not the Big Buffalo. If the Big Buffalo could so +forget his brothers of the Onondaga lodges, he would not have come +back to the Long House to tell them of the sorrow of the Great +Mountain. My brothers have seen the Big Buffalo in war and peace--they +know that he would not do this. + +"The devil was in Captain la Grange's heart. He captured my brothers. +He told the Great Mountain that it was a war party, that he had taken +them prisoners fairly. He lied to the Great Mountain. When the Great +Mountain asked the Big Buffalo to bring the prisoners to his great +village on the river, the Big Buffalo could not say, 'No, I am no +longer your son!' When the Great Mountain commands, the Big Buffalo +obeys. With sorrow in his heart he did as his father told him." + +Menard was struggling to put the maid out of his thoughts, to keep in +view only the safety of the column and the welfare of New France. And +as the words came rapidly to his lips and fell upon the ears of that +silent audience, he began to feel that they believed him. + +"My brothers," he said, with more feeling than they knew, "it is five +seasons since I left your village for the land of the white man. In +that time you have had no thought that I was not indeed your brother, +the son of your chief. You have known other Frenchmen. Father Claude, +who sits by my side; Father Jean de Lamberville, who has given his +many years to save you for the great white man's Manitou; Major +d'Orvilliers, who has never failed to give food and shelter to the +starving hunter at his great stone house,--I could name a hundred +others. You know that these are honest, that what they promise will be +done. But in every village is a fool, in every family is one who is +weak and cannot earn a name on the hunt. You have a warrior in this +house who to-day raised his hand against a visitor in the great +council. My brothers,--it is with sadness that I say it,--not all the +white men are true warriors. You are wise chiefs and brave warriors; +you know that because one man is a dog, it is not so with all his +nation. The Great Mountain sends me to you, and I speak in his voice. +I tell you that Captain la Grange is a dog, that he has broken the +faith of the white man and the redman, that the father at Quebec and +the Great-Chief-Across-the-Water, who are so quick to punish their red +children, will also punish the white. The white men are good. They +love the Onondagas. And if any white man breaks the faith, he shall be +punished." + +His voice had risen, and he was speaking in a glow that seemed to drop +a spark into each listening heart. He knew now that they believed. He +turned abruptly for the present. Father Claude was so absorbed in +following the speech, and in watching the maid, who sat with flushed +cheeks and lowered eyes, that he was not ready, and Menard stooped and +took the book. He could not avoid seeing the maid, when he looked +down; and the priest felt a sudden pain in his own heart to see the +look of utter weariness that came into the Captain's eyes. + +Menard turned the leaves of the book for a moment, as if to collect +himself, and then held it open so that the Indians could see the +bright pictures. There was a craning of necks in the outer circles. + +"In these picture writings is told the story of the 'Ceremonies of the +Mass applied to the Passion of Our Lord,'" he said slowly. "And our +Lord is your Great Spirit. It brings you a message; it tells you that +the white man is a good man, who punishes his own son as sternly as +his red child." + +The present pleased the Big Throat. He would not let his curiosity +appear in the council, but he dropped the book so that it fell open, +seemingly by accident, and his eyes strayed to it now and then during +the last word of the speech. Menard did not hesitate again. + +"I have told my Onondaga brothers that this white dog shall be +punished," he said. "When this word is given in your council in the +voice of Onontio, it is a word that cannot be broken. Wind is not +strong enough, thunder is not loud enough, waves are not fierce +enough, snows are not cold enough, powder is not swift enough to break +it." The words came swiftly from his lips. Calm old chiefs leaned +forward that they might catch every syllable. Eyes were brighter with +interest. The Long Arrow, thinking of his son and fearing lest the man +who killed him should slip from his grasp, grew troubled and more +stern. At last Menard turned, and taking the portrait from the +priest's hands held it up, slowly turning it so that all could see it +in the uncertain firelight. At first they were puzzled and surprised; +then a murmur of recognition ran from lip to lip. + +"You know this maid," Menard was saying, "this maid who to all who +love the Iroquois, to all who love the church, the Great Spirit, is a +saint. Her spirit has been for many moons in the happy hunting ground. +The snow has lain cold and heavy on her grave. The night bird has sung +her beauty in the empty forest. Catherine Outasoren has come back from +the land where the corn is always growing, where the snows can never +fall; she has come back to bear you the word of the Great Mountain. +She has come to tell you that the dog who broke the oath of the white +man to the Onondagas must suffer. This is the pledge of the Great +Mountain." + +He stopped abruptly, and stood looking with flashing eyes at the +circle of chiefs. There was silence for a moment, then a murmur that +rapidly rose and swelled into the loud chatter of many voices. Menard +laid the portrait at the feet of the Big Throat, and took his seat at +the side of the maid,--but he did not look at her nor she at him. +Father Claude sat patiently waiting. + +There was low talk among the chiefs. Then a warrior came and led the +captives out of doors, through a long passage that opened between two +rows of crowding Indians. The night was clear, and the air was sweet +to their nostrils. They walked slowly down the path. A group of young +braves kept within a few rods. + +"It must be late," said Menard, in a weak effort to break the +silence. + +"Yes," replied Father Claude. + +"I suppose we had better go back to our hut?" + +"Yes," said the priest again. But the maid was silent. + +They sat on the grass plot before the door, none of them having any +words that fitted the moment. Menard brought out a blanket and spread +it on the ground, that the maid need not touch the dew-laden grass. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +WHERE THE DEAD SIT. + + +"They need not starve us," said Menard, trying to speak lightly. "I am +hungry." + +The others made no reply. + +"I will see what chance we have for a supper." + +He got up and walked along the path looking for the guards. In a short +time he returned. + +"They will bring us something. The sentiment is not so strong against +us now, I think." + +"They change quickly," said Father Claude. + +"Yes. It is the Big Throat." + +"And yourself, M'sieu," the maid said impulsively. "You have done it, +too." + +"I cannot tell. We do not know what the council may decide. It may be +morning before they will come to an agreement. The Long Arrow will +fight to the last." + +"And the other, M'sieu,--the one who attacked you,--he too will +fight?" + +"He is nothing. When an Iroquois shows himself a coward his influence +is gone forever. It may be even that they will give him a new name +because of this." + +"There are times when a small accident or a careless word will change +the mind of a nation," said Father Claude. "When we left the council +they were not unfriendly to us. But in an hour it may be that they +will renew the torture. Until their hearts have been touched by the +Faith there are but two motives behind the most of their actions, +expediency and revenge. But I think we may hope. Brother de +Lamberville has told of many cases of torture where the right appeal +has brought a complete change." + +So they talked on, none having anything to say, and yet each dreading +the silences that came so easily and hung over them so heavily. They +could see the council-house some distance up the path. Its outlines +were lost in the shadows of the trees, but through the crevices in the +bark and logs came thin lines of light, and a glow shone through the +long roof opening upon the smoke that hung in the still air above it. +Sometimes they could hear indistinctly the voice of a speaker; but the +words could not be distinguished. At other times there was a low buzz +of voices. The children and women who had not been able to get into +the building could be seen moving about outside shutting off a strip +of light here and there. + +Two braves came with some corn and smoked meat. Menard set it down on +a corner of the blanket. + +"You will eat, Mademoiselle?" + +She shook her head. "I am not hungry. Thank you, M'sieu." + +"If I may ask it,--if I may insist,--it is really necessary, +Mademoiselle." + +She reached out, with a weary little gesture, and took some of the +corn. + +"And you too, Father." + +They ate in silence, and later went together to the spring for a cool +drink. + +"We ought to make an effort to sleep," Menard said; and added, "if we +can. Father, you had better lie down. In a few hours, if there is no +word, I will wake you." + +"You will not forget, M'sieu? You will not let me sleep too long." + +"No." The Captain smiled. "No, Father; you shall take your turn at +guard duty." + +The priest said good-night, and went to a knoll not far from the door. +The maid had settled back against the logs of the hut, and was gazing +at the trees. Menard sat in silence for a few moments. + +"Mademoiselle," he said at length, "I know that it will be hard for +you to rest until we have heard; but--" he hesitated, but she did not +help him, and he had to go on,--"I wish you would try." + +"It would be of no use, M'sieu." + +"I know,--I know. But we have much to keep in mind. It has been very +hard. Any one of us is likely to break. And you have not been so used +to this life as the Father and I." + +"I know it," she said, still looking at the elm branches that bent +almost to the ground before them, "but when I lie down, and close my +eyes, and let my mind go, it seems as if I could not stand it. It is +not bad now; I can be very cool now. You see, M'sieu?" She turned +toward him with the trace of a smile. "But when I let go--perhaps you +do not know how it is; the thoughts that come, and the dreams,--when I +am awake and yet not awake,--and the feeling that it is not worth +while, this struggle, even to what it may bring if we succeed. It +makes the night a torture, and the dread of another day is even worse. +It is better to stay awake; it is better even to break. Anything is +better." + +Menard looked down between his knees at the ground. He did not +understand what it was that lay behind her words. He started to speak, +then stopped. After a little he found himself saying words that came +to his lips with no effort; in fact, he did not seem able to check +them. + +"It is not right that I should be here near you. I gave up that right +to-night. I gave it up yesterday. I have been proud, during these +years of fighting, that I was a soldier. I had thought, too, that I +was a man. It was hardly a week ago that I rebuked that poor boy for +what I have since done myself. I promised Major Provost that I would +take you safely to Frontenac. That I have failed is only a little +thing. I have said to you--no, you must not stop me. We have gone +already beyond that point. We understand now. I have tried to be to +you more than--than I had a right to be while you were in my care. +Danton did not know; Father Claude does not know. You know, because I +have told you. I have shown you in a hundred ways." + +"No," she said, in a choking voice. "It is my fault. I allowed you." + +He shook his head. + +"That is nothing. It is not what you have done. It is not even what +you think. It is what I shall think and know all my life,--that I have +done the wrong thing. There are some of us, Mademoiselle, who have no +home, no ties of family, no love, except for the work in which we are +slowly building up a good name and a firm place. That is what I was. +Do you know what it is that makes up the life of such a man? It is the +little things, the acts of every day and every week; and they must be +honest and loyal, or he will fail. I might have stayed in Paris, I +might even have found a place in Quebec where I could wear a bright +uniform, and be close in the Governor's favour. I chose the other +course. I have given a dozen years to the harder work, only to fall +within the week from all that I had hoped,--had thought myself to be. +And now, as I speak to you, I know that I have lost; that if you +should smile at me, should put your hand in mine, everything that I +have been working for would be nothing to me. You would be the only +thing in the world." + +She sat motionless. He did not go on, and yet each moment seemed to +bring them closer in understanding. After a little while she said +huskily:-- + +"You cared--you cared like that?" + +She was not looking toward him, and she could not see him slowly bow +his head; but there was an answer in his silence. + +"You cared--when you made the speech--" + +"Yes." + +She looked at the stalwart, bowed figure. She was beginning to +understand what he had done, that in his pledge to the chiefs he had +triumphed over a love greater than she had supposed a man could bear +for a woman. + +"A soldier cannot always choose his way," he was saying. "I have never +chosen mine. It was the orders of my superior that brought us here, +that brought this suffering to you. If it were not for these orders, +the Onondagas would be my friends, and because of that, your friends. +It has always been like this; I have built up that others might tear +down. I thought for a few hours that something else was to come to me. +I should have known better. It was when you took the daisy--" she +raised her hand and touched the withered flower. "I did not reason. I +knew I was breaking my trust, and I did not care. After all, perhaps +even that was the best thing. It gave me strength and hope to carry on +the fight. It was you, then,--not New France. Now the dream is over, +and again it is New France. It must be that." + +"Yes," she said, "it must be." + +"I have had wild thoughts. I have meant to ask you to let me hope, +once this is over and you safe at Frontenac. I could not believe that +what comes so easily to other men is never to come to me. I cannot ask +that now." + +She looked at him, and a sudden glow came into her eyes. + +"Why not?" she whispered, as if frightened. + +"Why not," he repeated, for an instant meeting her gaze. Then he rose +and stood before her. "Because I have given an oath to bring Captain +la Grange to punishment. You heard me. But you did not hear what I +promised to Father Claude. I have sworn that what the Governor may +refuse to do, I shall do myself. I have set my hand against your +family." + +"You could not help it, M'sieu,--you could not help it," she said. But +the light was going out of her eyes. It had been a moment of weakness +for both of them. She looked up at him, standing erect in the faint +light, and the sight of his square, broad shoulders seemed to give her +strength. He was the strong one; he had always been the strong one. +She rose and leaned back against the logs. She found that she could +face him bravely. + +"He is your cousin," he had just said in a dry voice. + +"Yes, he is my cousin." + +Menard was steadily recovering himself. + +"We will not give all up. You know that I love you,--I hope that you +love me." He hesitated for an instant, but she gave no sign. "We will +keep the two flowers. We will always think of this day, and yesterday. +I have no duty now but to get you safe to Frontenac; until you are +there I must not speak again. As for the rest of it, we can only wait, +and trust that some day there may be some light." + +She looked at him sadly. + +"You do not know? Father Claude has not told you?" + +Something in her voice brought him a step nearer. + +"You know that Captain la Grange is my cousin?" + +"Yes." + +"You did not know that I am to be his wife?" + +They stood face to face, looking deep into each other's eyes, while a +long minute dragged by, and the rustling night sounds and the call of +the crickets came to their ears. + +"No," he said, "I did not know. May I keep the flower, Mademoiselle?" + +She bowed her head. She could not speak. + +"Good-night." + +"Good-night." + +He walked away. She saw him stop at the knoll where the priest lay +asleep on a bed of boughs, and stand for a moment gazing down at him. +Then he went into the shadows. From the crackling of the twigs she +knew that he was walking about among the trees. She sank to the ground +and listened to the crickets. A frog bellowed in the valley; perhaps +he had been calling before--she did not know. + +She fell asleep, with her cheek resting against a mossy log. She did +not know when Menard came back and stood for a long time looking at +her. He did not awaken Father Claude until long after the time for +changing the watch. + +When he did, he walked up and down on the path, holding the priest's +arm, and trying to speak. They had rounded the large maple three times +before he said:-- + +"You did not tell me, Father." + +"What, my son?" + +The Captain stopped, and drawing the priest around, pointed toward the +maid as she slept. + +"You did not tell me--why we are taking her to Frontenac." + +"No. She asked it. We spoke of it only once, that night on the river. +She was confused, and she asked me not to speak. She does not know +him. She has not seen him since she was a child." + +Menard said nothing. He was gripping the priest's arm, and gazing at +the sleeping maid. + +"It was her father," added Father Claude. + +Menard's hand relaxed. + +"Good-night, Father." He walked slowly toward the bed on the knoll. +And Father Claude called softly after him:-- + +"Good-night, M'sieu. Good-night." + +Menard lay awake. He could see the priest sitting by the door. He +wondered if the maid were sleeping. A late breeze came across the +valley, arousing the leaves and carrying a soft whisper from tree to +tree, until all the forest voices were joined. Lying on his side he +could see indistinctly the council-house. There were still the lighted +cracks; the Long House was still in session. Their decision did not +now seem so vital a matter. The thought of the maid--that he was +taking her to be the wife of another, and that other La Grange--had +taken the place of all other thoughts. + +Later still came the buzz of many voices. Dark forms were moving about +the council-house. Menard raised himself to his elbow, and waited +until he saw a group approaching on the path, then he joined Father +Claude. + +The Big Throat led the little band of chiefs to the hut. They stood, +half a score of them, in a semicircle, their blankets drawn close, +their faces, so far as could be seen in the dim light, stern and +impassive. Menard and the priest stood erect and waited. + +"It has pleased the Great Mountain that his voice should be heard in +the Long House of the Iroquois," said the Big Throat, in a low, calm +voice. "His voice is gentle as the breeze and yet as strong as the +wind. The Great Mountain has before promised many things to the +Iroquois. Some of the promises he has broken, some he has kept. But +the Onondagas know that there is no man who keeps all his promises. +They once thought they knew such a man, but they were mistaken. White +men, Indians,--all speak at night with a strong voice, in the morning +with a weak voice. Each draws his words sometimes off the top of his +mind, where the truth and the strong words do not lie. The Onondagas +are not children. They know the friend from the enemy. And they know, +though he may sometimes fail them, that the Great Mountain is their +friend, their father." + +Menard bowed slowly, facing the chief with self-control as firm as his +own. + +"They know," the Big Throat continued, "that the Indian has not always +kept the faith with the white man. And then it is that the Great +Mountain has been a kind father. If he thinks it right that our +brothers, the Senecas, should meet with punishment for breaking the +peace promised to the white man by the Long House, the Onondagas are +not the children to say to their father, 'We care not if our brother +has done wrong; we will cut off the hand that holds the whip of +punishment.' The Onondagas are men. They say to the father, 'We care +not who it is that has done wrong. Though he be our next of blood, let +him be punished.' This is the word of the council to the Big Buffalo +who speaks with his father's voice." + +Well as he knew the Iroquois temperament, Menard could not keep an +expression of admiration from his eyes. He knew what this speech +meant,--that the Big Throat alone saw far into the future, saw that in +the conflict between red and white, the redman must inevitably lose +unless he crept close under the arm that was raised to strike him. It +was no sense of justice that prompted the Big Throat's words; it was +the vision of one of the shrewdest statesmen, white or red, who had +yet played a part in the struggles for possession of the New World. +Greatest of all, only a master could have convinced that hot-blooded +council that peace was the safest course. The chief went on:-- + +"The Big Buffalo has spoken well to the council. He has told the +chiefs that he has not been a traitor to the brothers who have for so +long believed that his words were true words. The Big Buffalo is a +pine tree that took root in the lands of the Onondagas many winters +ago. From these lands and these waters, and the sun and winds that +give life to the corn and the trees of the Onondagas, he drew his sap +and his strength. Can we then believe that this pine tree which we +planted and which has grown tall and mighty before our eyes, is not a +pine tree at all? When a quick-tongued young brave, who has not known +the young tree as we have, comes to the council and says that this Big +Buffalo, this pine tree, is not a pine but an elm with slippery bark, +are we to believe him? Are we to drop from our minds what our hearts +and eyes have long known, to forget what we have believed? My brothers +of the Long House say no. They know that the pine tree is a pine tree. +It may be that in the haze of the distance pine and elm look alike to +young eyes; but what a chief has seen, he has seen; what he has known, +he has known. The Big Buffalo speaks the truth to his Onondaga +brothers, and with another sun he shall be free to go to his white +brothers." + +"The Big Throat has a faithful heart," said Menard, quietly. "He knows +that the voice of Onontio is the voice of right and strength." + +"The chiefs of the Onondagas and Cayugas will sit quietly before their +houses with their eyes turned toward the lands beyond the great lake, +waiting for the whisper that shall come with the speed of the winds +over forests and waters to tell them that the white man has kept his +promise. When the dog who robbed our villages of a hundred brave +warriors has been slain, then shall they know that the Big Buffalo is +what they have believed him to be, their brother." + +"And the maid and the holy Father?" + +"They are free. The chiefs are sorry that a foolish brave has captured +the white man's squaw." + +Menard and Father Claude bowed again, and the chiefs turned and strode +away. The priest smiled gently after them. + +"And now, M'sieu, we may rest quietly." + +"Yes. You lie down, Father; it will not be necessary to watch now, and +anyway I am not likely to sleep much." He walked back to the bed on +the knoll, leaving the priest to stretch out across the doorway. + +The elder bushes and briers crowded close to the little clearing +behind the hut, and Menard, lying on his side with his face close to +the ground, watched the clusters of leaves as they gently rustled. He +rolled half over and stared up at the bits of sky that showed through +the trees. It seemed as if the great world were a new thing, as if +these trees and bushes and reaches of tufted grass were a part of a +new life. Before, they had played their part in his rugged life +without asking for recognition; but to-night they came into his +thoughts with their sympathy, and he wondered that all this great +world of summer green and winter white, and of blue and green and +lead-coloured water could for so long have influenced him without +consciousness on his part. But his life had left little time for such +thoughts; to-night he was unstrung. + +Over the noise of the leaves and the trickle of the spring sounded a +rustle. It was not loud, but it was a new sound, and his eyes sought +the bushes. The noise came, and stopped; came, and stopped. Evidently +someone was creeping slowly toward the hut; but the sound was on the +farther side of him, so that he could reach the maid's side before +whoever was approaching could cross the clearing. + +For a time the noise died altogether. Then, after a space, his eyes, +sweeping back and forth along the edge of the brush, rested on a +bright bit of metal that for an instant caught the light of the sky, +probably a weapon or a head ornament. Menard was motionless. Finally +an Indian stepped softly out and stood beside a tree. When he began to +move forward the Captain recognized Tegakwita, and he spoke his name. + +The Indian came rapidly over the grass with his finger at his lips. + +"Do not speak loud," he whispered. "Do not wake the holy Father." + +"Why do you come creeping upon my house at night, like a robber?" + +"Tegakwita is sad for his sister. His heart will not let him go among +men about the village; it will not let his feet walk on the common +path." + +"Why do you come?" + +"Tegakwita seeks the Big Buffalo." + +"It cannot be for an honest reason. You lay behind the bush. You saw +me here and thought me asleep, but you did not approach honestly. You +crept through the shadows like a Huron." + +"Tegakwita's night eyes are not his day eyes. He could not see who the +sleeping man was. When he heard the voice, he came quickly." + +Menard looked at the musket that rested in the Indian's hand, at the +hatchet and knife that hung from his belt. + +"You are heavily armed, Tegakwita. Is it for the war-path or the hunt? +Do Onondaga warriors carry their weapons from house to house in their +own village?" + +The Indian made a little gesture of impatience. + +"Tegakwita has no house. His house has been dishonoured. He lives +under the trees, and carries his house with him. All that he has is in +his hand or his belt. The Big Buffalo speaks strangely." + +Menard said nothing for a moment. He looked up, with a keen gaze, at +the erect figure of the Indian. Finally he said:-- + +"Sit down, Tegakwita. Tell me why you came." + +"No. Tegakwita cannot rest himself until his sister has reached the +Happy Hunting-Ground." + +"Very well, do as you like. But waste no more time. What is it?" + +"The Big Buffalo has been an Onondaga. He knows the city in the valley +where the dead sit in their graves. It is there that my sister lies, +by an open grave, waiting for the farewell word of him who alone is +left to say farewell to her. Tegakwita's Onondaga brothers will not +gather at the grave of a girl who has given up her nation for a white +dog. But he can ask the Big Buffalo, who brought the white dog to our +village, to come to the side of the grave." + +"Your memory is bad, Tegakwita. It was not I who brought the white +brave. It was you who brought him, his two hands tied with thongs." + +The Indian stood, without replying, looking down at him with +brilliant, staring eyes. + +Menard spoke again. + +"You want me to go with you. You slip through the bushes like a snake, +with your musket and your knife and your hatchet, to ask me to go with +you to the grave of your sister. Do I speak rightly, Tegakwita?" + +"The Big Buffalo has understood." + +Menard slowly rose and looked into the Indian's eyes. + +"I have no weapons, Tegakwita. The chiefs who have set me free have +not yet returned the musket which was taken from me. It is dangerous +to go at night through the forest without a weapon. Give me your +hatchet and I will go with you." + +Tegakwita's lip curled almost imperceptibly. + +"The White Chief is afraid of the night?" + +Menard, too, looked scornful. He coolly waited. + +"The Big Buffalo cannot face the dead without a hatchet in his hand?" +said Tegakwita. + +Menard suddenly sprang forward and snatched the hatchet from the +Indian's belt. It was a surprise, and the struggle was brief. +Tegakwita was thrown a step backward. He hesitated between struggling +for the hatchet and striking with the musket; before he had fully +recovered and dropped the musket, Menard had leaped back and stood +facing him with the hatchet in his right hand. + +"Now I will go with you to the city of the dead, Tegakwita." + +The Indian's breath was coming quickly, and he stood with clenched +fists, taken aback by the Captain's quickness. + +"Come, I am ready. Pick up your musket." + +As Tegakwita stooped, Menard glanced toward the hut. The priest lay +asleep before the door. It was better to get this madman away than to +leave him free to prowl about the hut. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +THE BAD DOCTOR. + + +At the edge of the thicket they stopped and stood face to face, each +waiting for the other to pass ahead. Tegakwita slightly bowed, with an +unconscious imitation of the Frenchmen he had seen at Fort Frontenac +and Montreal. + +"Pass on," said Menard, sternly. "You know the trail, Tegakwita; I do +not. It is you who must lead the way." + +The Indian was sullen, but he yielded, plunging forward between the +bushes, and now and then, in the shadow of some tree, glancing +furtively over his shoulder. His manner, the suspicion that showed +plainly in the nervous movements of his head, in every motion as he +glided through thicket, glade, or strip of forest, told Menard that he +had chosen well to take the second place. His fingers closed firmly +about the handle of the hatchet. That he could throw at twenty paces +to the centre of a sapling, no one knew better than Tegakwita. + +The city of the dead lay in a hollow at ten minutes' walk from the +village. Generations ago the trees had been cleared, and no bush or +sapling had been allowed a foothold on this ground. The elms and oaks +and maples threw their shadows across the broad circle, and each +breath of wind set them dancing over the mounds where many an hundred +skeletons crouched side by side, under the grass-grown heaps of earth, +their rusted knives and hatchets and their mouldy blankets by their +sides. No man came here, save when a new heap of yellow earth lay +fresh-turned in the sun, and a long line of dancing, wailing redmen, +led by their howling doctors, followed some body that had come to +claim its seat among the skeletons. + +Tegakwita paused at the edge of the clearing, and looked around with +that furtive quickness. Menard came slowly to his side. + +"You will take your weapons to the grave?" asked Menard, very quietly, +but with a suggestion that the other understood. + +"Yes. Tegakwita has no place for his weapons. He must carry them where +he goes." + +"We can leave them here. The leaves will hide them. I will put the +hatchet under this log." He made a motion of dropping the hatchet, +closely watching the Indian; then he straightened, for Tegakwita's +right hand held the musket, and his left rested lightly on his belt, +not a span from his long knife. + +"The White Chief knows the danger of leaving weapons to tempt the +young braves. He finds it easy to take the chance with Tegakwita's +hatchet." + +"Very well," said Menard, sternly. "Lead the way." + +They walked slowly between the mounds. Menard looked carefully about, +but in the uncertain light he could see no sign of a new opening in +any of them. When they had passed the centre he stopped, and said +quietly:-- + +"Tegakwita." + +The Indian turned. + +"Where is the grave?" + +"It is beyond, close to the great oak." + +"Ah!" + +They went on. The great oak was in a dense, deep-shadowed place, at +the edge of the circle. A little to one side, close to the crowding +thicket, was a small, new mound. Looking now at Tegakwita, Menard +could see that his front was stained with the soil. Probably he had +spent the day working on the mound for his sister. While Menard stood +at one side, he went to a bush that encroached a yard on the sacred +ground and drew out a number of presents, with necessary articles and +provisions to stay the soul on its long journey to the Happy +Hunting-Ground. It was at the end of Menard's tongue to repeat +Tegakwita's remark about hiding the weapons, but he held back and +stood silently waiting. + +"Come," said the Indian. + +He parted the bushes, drew away a heavy covering of boughs, and there, +wrapped in Tegakwita's finest blanket, lay the body of the Indian +girl. Menard stood over it, looking down with a sense of pity he had +never before felt for an Indian. He could not see her face, for it was +pressed to the ground, but the clotted scalp showed indistinctly in +the shadow. He suddenly raised, his eyes to Tegakwita, who stood +opposite. + +"What have you done with the white brave?" he said in fierce, low +tones. "What have you done with him?" + +Tegakwita raised one arm and swept it about in a quarter circle. + +"Ask the vultures that come when a man falls, ask the beasts that wait +for everyone, ask the dogs of the village. They can tell you, not I." + +Menard's hands closed tightly, and a wild desire came to him to step +across the body and choke the man who had killed Danton; but in a +moment he was himself. He had nothing to gain by violence. And after +all, the Indian had done no more than was, in his eyes, right. He bent +down; and together they carried the body to the grave, close at hand. +Tegakwita placed her sitting upright in the hole he had dug. By her +side he placed the pots and dishes and knives which she had used in +preparing the food they two had eaten. He set the provisions before +her and in her lap; and drawing a twist of tobacco from his bosom, he +laid it at her feet to win her the favour and kindness of his own +Manitou on her journey. After each gift he stood erect, looking up at +the sky with his arms stretched out above his head; and at these +moments his simple dignity impressed Menard. But there were other +moments, when, in stooping, Tegakwita would glance about with nervous, +shifting eyes, as if fearing some interruption. His musket was always +in his hand or by his side. Menard took it that he still feared the +hatchet. + +Then at last the ceremony was done, and the Indian with his bare hands +threw the earth over the hole in the mound. Still looking nervously +from bush to bush, his hands began to move more slowly; then he +paused, and sat by the mound, looking up with a hesitancy that +recognized the need of an explanation for the delay. + +"Tegakwita's arms are weary." + +"Are they?" said Menard, dryly. + +"Tegakwita has not slept for many suns." + +"Neither have I." + +The Indian started as a rustle came from the forest. Menard watched +him curiously. The whole proceeding was too unusual to be easily +understood. Tegakwita's nervous manner, his request that the Captain +accompany him to the mound, the weapons that never left his +side,--these might be the signs of a mind driven to madness by his +sister's act; but Menard did not recollect, from his own observation +of the Iroquois character, that love for a sister was a marked trait +among the able-bodied braves. Perhaps it was delay that he sought. At +this thought Menard quietly moved farther from the undergrowth. +Tegakwita's quick eyes followed the movement. + +"Come," said the Captain, "the night is nearly gone. I cannot wait +longer." + +"Tegakwita has worked hard. His heart is sick, his body lame. Will the +Big Buffalo help his Onondaga brother?" + +"Yes." + +The Indian rose with too prompt relief. + +"Your muscles need only the promise of help to give them back their +spring, Tegakwita." + +"The White Chief speaks with a biting tongue." + +"You have been speaking with a lying tongue. You think I do not know +why you have brought me here; you think I do not understand the evil +thoughts that fill your mind. You are a coward, Tegakwita. But you +will not succeed to-night." + +The ill-concealed fright that came into the Indian's face and manner +told Menard that he was not wide of the mark. He began to understand. +Tegakwita wished to get him at work and off his guard,--the rest would +be simple. And as Menard well knew, more than one brave of the +Onondagas, who had known him both as friend and enemy, would shrink +when the moment came to attack the Big Buffalo single-handed, even +though taking him at a disadvantage. Now Tegakwita was hesitating, and +struggling to keep his eyes from the thicket. + +"Yes, I will help you. We will close this matter now, and go back to +the village where your cowardly hands will be tied by fear of your +chiefs. Drop your musket." + +"The Big Buffalo speaks in anger. Does he think to disarm Tegakwita +that he may kill him?" + +"Lay your musket on the ground before us. Then I will drop the +hatchet." + +Tegakwita stepped around the grave, and leaning the musket across a +stone stood by it. Menard's voice was full of contempt. + +"You need not fear. The Big Buffalo keeps his word." He tossed the +hatchet over the grave, and stood unarmed. "Drop your knife." + +Tegakwita hesitated. Menard took a step forward, and the knife fell to +the ground. + +"Come. We will work side by side." He was surprised at Tegakwita's +slinking manner. He wondered if this Indian could by some strange +accident have been given a temperament so fine that sorrow could unman +him. To the Iroquois, gifted as they were with reasoning power, life +held little sentiment. Curiously enough, as Menard stood in the light +of the young moon watching the warrior come slowly around the grave, +which still showed above the earth the head and shoulders of the dead +girl, he found himself calling up the rare instances he had known of a +real affection between Indians. + +Tegakwita stood by him, and without a word they stooped and set to +work, side by side, scraping the earth with their fingers over the +body. Tegakwita found a dozen little ways to delay. Menard steadily +lost patience. + +"Tegakwita has forgotten," said the Indian, standing up; "he has not +offered the present to his sister's Oki." + +"Well?" said Menard, roughly. + +Tegakwita's voice trembled, as if he knew that he was pressing the +white man too far. + +"The grave must be opened. It will not take long." + +It came to Menard in a flash. The many delays, the anxious glances +toward the thicket,--these meant that others were coming. Something +delayed them; Tegakwita must hold the Big Buffalo till they arrived. +With never a word Menard sprang over the grave; but the Indian was +quicker, and his hand was the first on the musket. Then they fought, +each struggling to free his hands from the other's grasp, rolling over +and over,--now half erect, tramping on the soft mound, now wrestling +on the harder ground below. At last Menard, as they whirled and +tumbled past the weapons, snatched the knife. Tegakwita caught his +wrist, and then it was nigh to stabbing his own thigh as they fought +for it. Once he twisted his hand and savagely buried the blade in the +Indian's side. Tegakwita caught his breath and rallied, and the blood +of the one was on them both. At last a quick wrench bent the Indian's +wrist back until it almost snapped,--Menard thought that it had,--and +the stained blade went home once, and again, and again, until the arms +that had clung madly about the white man slipped off, and lay weakly +on the ground. + +Menard was exhausted. The dirt and blood were in his hair and eyes and +ears. He was rising stiffly to his knees when the rush of Indians came +from the bushes. He could not see them clearly,--could hardly hear +them,--though he fought until a musket-stock swung against his head +and stretched him on the ground. + +When he recovered they were standing about him, half a score of them, +waiting to see if he still had life. He raised a bruised arm to wipe +his eyes, but a rough hand caught it and drew a thong tightly about +his wrists. Slowly his senses awakened, and he could see indistinctly +the silent forms,--some standing motionless, others walking slowly +about. It was strange. His aching head had not the wit to meet with +the situation. Then they jerked him to his feet, and with a stout +brave at each elbow and others crowding about on every side, he was +dragged off through the bushes. + +For a long time the silent party pushed forward. They were soon clear +of the forest, passing through rich wild meadows that lifted the scent +of clover, the fresher for the dew that lay wet underfoot. There were +other thickets and other forests, and many a reach of meadow, all +rolling up and down over the gentle hills. Menard tried to gather his +wits, but his head reeled; and the struggle to keep his feet moving +steadily onward was enough to hold his mind. He knew that he should +watch the trail closely, to know where they were taking him, but he +was not equal to the effort. At last the dawn came, gray and +depressing, creeping with deadly slowness on the trail of the +retreating night. The sky was dull and heavy, and a mist clung about +the party, leaving little beads of moisture on deerskin coats and +fringed leggings and long, brown musket barrels. The branches drooped +from the trees, blurred by the mist and the half dark into strange +shapes along the trail. + +The day was broad awake when Menard gave way. His muscles had been +tried to the limit of his endurance during these many desperate days +and sleepless nights that he had thought to be over. He fell loosely +forward. For a space they dragged him, but the burden was heavy, and +the chief ordered a rest. The band of warriors scattered about to +sleep under the trees, leaving a young brave to watch the Big Buffalo, +who slept motionless where they had dropped him in the long grass +close at hand. On every side were hills, shielding them from the view +of any chance straggler from the Onondaga villages, unless he should +clamber down the short slopes and search for them in the mist. A +stream tumbled by, not a dozen yards from Menard and his yawning +guardian. + +When he awoke, the mist had thinned, but the sky showed no blue. +Beneath the gray stretch that reached from hill crest to hill crest, +light foaming clouds scudded across from east to west, though there +was little wind near the ground. The Captain listened for a time to +the noise of the stream before looking about. He changed his position, +and rheumatic pains shot through his joints. For the second time in +his life he realized that he was growing old; and with this thought +came another. What sort of a soldier was he if he could not pass +through such an experience without paying the old man's penalty. To be +sure his head was battered and bruised, and scattered over his +shoulders and arms and hips were a dozen small wounds to draw in the +damp from the grass, but he did not think of these. In his weak, +half-awake state, he was discouraged, with the feeling that the best +of his life was past. And the thought that he, a worn old soldier, +could have dreamed what he had dreamed of the maid and her love sank +down on his heart like a weight. But this thought served another +purpose: to think of the maid was to think of her danger; and this was +to be the alert soldier again, with a plan for every difficulty as +long as he had life in his body. And so, before the mood could drag +him down, he was himself again. + +Most of the Indians were asleep, sprawling about under the trees near +the water. The warrior guarding Menard appeared to be little more than +a youth. He sat with his knees drawn up and his head bowed, his +blanket pulled close around him, and his oily black hair tangled about +his eyes. Menard lay on his back looking at the Indian through +half-closed eyes. + +"Well," he said in a low, distinct voice, "you have me now, haven't +you?" + +The Indian gave him a quick glance, but made no reply. + +"It is all right, my brother. Do not turn your eyes to me, and nothing +will be seen. I can speak quietly. A nod of your head will tell me if +anyone comes near. Do you understand?" + +Again the little eyes squinted through the hanging locks of hair. + +"You do understand? Very well. You know who I am? I am the Big +Buffalo. I killed half a score of your bravest warriors in their own +village. Do you think these thongs can hold the Big Buffalo, who never +has been held by thongs, who is the hardest fighter and the boldest +hunter of all the lands from the Mohawk to the Great River of the +Illinois? Listen, I will tell you how many canoes of furs the Big +Buffalo has in the north country; I will tell you--" + +The Indian's head nodded almost imperceptibly. A yawning brave was +walking slowly along the bank of the stream, gathering wood for a +fire. He passed to a point a few rods below the prisoner, then came +back and disappeared among the trees. + +"I will tell you," said Menard, keeping his voice at such a low pitch +that the guard had to bend his head slightly toward him, "of the great +bales of beaver that are held safe in the stores of the Big Buffalo. +Does my brother understand? Does he see that these bales are for him, +that he will be as rich as the greatest chief among all the chiefs of +the Long House? No brave shall have such a musket,--with a long, +straight barrel that will send a ball to the shoulder of a buffalo +farther than the flight of three arrows. His blanket shall be the +brightest in Onondaga; his many clothes, his knives, his hatchets, his +collars of wampum shall have no equal. He can buy the prettiest wives +in the nation. Does my brother understand?" + +The fire had been lighted, and a row of wild hens turned slowly on +wooden spits over the flames. One by one the warriors were rousing and +stirring about among the trees. There were shouts and calls, and the +grumbling talk of the cooks as they held the long spits and turned +their faces away from the smoke, which rose but slowly in the damp, +heavy air. Menard lay with his eyes closed, as if asleep; even his +lips hardly moved as he talked. + +"My brother must think quickly, for the time is short. All that I +promise he will have, if he will be a friend to the Big Buffalo. And +every Onondaga knows that the word of the Big Buffalo is a word that +has never been broken. My brother will be a friend. He will watch +close, and to-night, when the dark has come, he will let his knife +touch the thongs that hold the White Chief captive." + +The Indian's face was without expression. Menard watched him closely, +but could not tell whether his offer was taking effect. What he had no +means of knowing was that since the battle at the hut, and the short +fight in the council-house, the younger braves had centred their +superstitions on him. It was thought that his body was occupied by +some bad spirit that gave him the strength of five men, and that he +had been sent to their village by a devil to lure the warriors into +the hands of the French. These were not the open views that would have +been heard at a council; they were the fears of the untried warriors, +who had not the vision to understand the diplomacy of the chiefs, nor +the position in the village to give them a public hearing. They had +talked together in low tones, feeding the common fear, until a few +words from the Long Arrow had aroused them into action. And so this +guard was between two emotions: the one a lust for wealth and position +in the tribe, common to every Indian and in most cases a stronger +motive than any of the nobler sentiments; the other an unreasoning +fear of this "bad doctor," the fear that to aid him or to accept furs +from him would poison the ears of his own Oki, and destroy his chance +of a name and wealth during his life, and of a long, glorious hunt +after death. + +"My brother shall come with me to the land of the white men, where +there is no trouble,--where he shall have a great lodge like the white +chiefs, with coloured pictures in gold frames, and slaves to prepare +his food. He shall be a great chief among white men and redmen, and +his stores shall be filled to the doors with furs of beaver and +seal." + +Menard's voice was so low and deliberate that the Indian did not +question his statements. He was tempted more strongly than he had ever +been tempted before, but with the desire grew the fear of the +consequences. As for the Captain, he was clutching desperately at this +slender chance that lay to his hand. + +"I have given my brother his choice of greater power than was ever +before offered to a youth who has yet to win his name. The stroke of a +knife will do it. No one shall know, for the Big Buffalo can be +trusted. My brother has it before him to be a red chief or a white +chief, as he may wish. The warriors are near,--the day grows bright; +he must speak quickly." + +There was a call from the group by the fire, and the young Indian gave +a little start, and slowly rising, walked away, yielding his place as +guard to an older man. Menard rolled over and pressed his face to the +ground as if weary; he could then watch the youth through the grass as +he moved to the fire, but in a moment he lost sight of him. The new +guard was a stern-faced brave, and his appearance promised no help; so +the Captain, having done all that could be done at the moment, tried +to get another sleep, struggling to put thoughts of the maid from his +mind. Perhaps, after all, she was safe at the village. + +Meantime the youth, after a long struggle with the temptings of the +bad doctor, yielded to his superstition, and sought the Long Arrow, +who lay on the green bank of the stream. In a few moments the story +was told, and the chief, with a calm face but with twinkling eyes, +came to the prisoner and stood looking down at him. + +"The White Chief is glad to be with his Onondaga brothers?" he said in +his quiet voice. + +Menard slowly raised his eyes, and looked coolly at the chief without +replying. + +"The tongue of the Big Buffalo is weary perhaps? It has moved so many +times to tell the Onondaga what is not true, that now it asks for +rest. The Long Arrow is kind. He will not seek to move it again. For +another sleep it shall lie at rest; then it may be that our braves +shall find a way to stir it." + +Menard rolled over, with an expression of contempt, and closed his +eyes. + +"The Long Arrow was sorry that his white brother was disappointed at +the torture. Perhaps he will have better fortune after he has slept +again. Already have the fires been lighted that shall warm the heart +of the White Chief. And he shall have friends to brighten him. His +squaw, too, shall feel the glow of the roaring fire, and the gentle +hands of the Onondaga warriors, who do not forget the deaths of their +own blood." + +Menard lay still. + +"Another sleep, my brother, and the great White Chief who speaks with +the voice of Onontio shall be with his friends. He shall hear the +sweet voice of his young squaw through the smoke that shall be her +garment. He shall hear the prayers of his holy Father by his side, and +shall know that his spirit is safe with the Great Spirit who is not +strong enough to give him his life when the Long Arrow takes it +away." + +There was still a mad hope that the chief spoke lies, that the maid +and Father Claude were safe. True or false, the Long Arrow would +surely talk thus; for the Iroquois were as skilled in the torments of +the mind as of the body. He was conscious that the keen voice was +going on, but he did not follow what it said. Again he was going over +and over in his mind all the chances of escape. It might be that the +youth had been moved by his offer. But at that moment he heard the +Long Arrow saying:-- + +" ... Even before his death the Big Buffalo must lie as he has always +lied. His tongue knows not the truth. He thinks to deceive our young +braves with talk of his furs and his lodges and his power in the land +of the white men. But our warriors know the truth. They know that the +Big Buffalo has no store of furs, no great lodges,--that he lives in +the woods with only a stolen musket, where he can by his lies capture +the peaceful hunters of the Onondagas to make them the slaves of his +Chief-Across-the-Water." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +AT THE LONG LAKE. + + +Menard again dropped to sleep. When the day had nearly reached its +middle, he was aroused by two warriors, who pulled him roughly to his +feet. The band had evidently been astir for some moments. A few braves +were extinguishing the fire with clumps of sod, while the others +packed in their blankets what had been left from the morning meal, or +looked to the spots of rust which the damp had brought to knives and +muskets. The Long Arrow came over to inspect the thongs that held +Menard's wrists; he had not forgotten his attack on his guards on the +morning of the torture. And with a precaution that brought a half +smile to the prisoner's face, he posted a stout warrior on each side, +in addition to those before and behind. Then they set out over the +hills, wading through a great tumbling meadow where their feet sank +deep into the green and yellow and white that June had spread over the +open lands of the Iroquois. Overhead the sky, though still clouded, +was breaking, giving little glimpses of clear blue. + +As they neared the crest of the first hill, the Captain looked back +over his shoulder. The sun had at last broken through to the earth, +and a great band of yellow light was moving swiftly across the valley. +Before it, all the ground was sombre in its dark green and its heavy +moisture; behind lay a stretch of golden sunshine, rounding over the +farther hills in great billows of grass and flowers and clustering +trees, glistening with dew and glowing with the young health of the +summer. Up the hillside came the sunlight; and then in a moment it had +passed them, and the air was warm and sweet. + +Menard looked at the sun and then back across the valley to get his +direction. He saw that the party was moving a little to the south of +west. This line of march should take them through the Cayuga +country,--a natural move on the part of the Long Arrow, for the +Cayugas were closer to the scene of the fighting than the Onondagas, +and therefore would be less likely to interfere with the persecution +of a Frenchman, particularly before their chiefs should return from +the council. + +Late in the afternoon they came to a slow-moving stream, the outlet of +an inland lake. By the basin-shape of the end of the lake, he +recognized it as one that lay directly between Onondaga and the Long +Lake of the Cayugas. On the bank of the little river, under the matted +foliage, the chief signalled a halt, and the warriors threw themselves +on the ground. Menard lay at the foot of a beech whose roots dipped in +the water, and for the hundredth time since the sun had risen he cast +about for some chance at escape. The thongs about his wrists were tied +by skilful hands. He tried to reach the knot with his fingers, but +could not. His guards were alert to every motion; they lay on either +side, and he could not lift his eyes without meeting the sullen glance +of one or the other. He was about ready to submit, trusting to his +wits to seize the first opportunity that should come; for after all, +to worry would strain his nerves, and now, if at any time, his nerves +and his strength were needed. When at last he reached this point of +view, he lay back on the weed-grown earth and went to sleep. + +An hour later he was aroused for another start. Night came while they +were on the way, but they pushed steadily forward, and within a few +hours they reached the Long Lake. Instead of stopping, however, the +Long Arrow headed to the south along the bank of the lake. For a space +it was hard going through the interwoven bushes and briers that tore +even Menard's tough skin. The moon was in the sky, and here and there +he caught glimpses of the lake lying still and bright. They saw no +signs of life save for the flitting bats, and the owls that called +weirdly through the reaches of the forest. After another hour they +found a trail which led them down close to the water, and at last to a +half-cleared space, rank and wild with weed and thistle, and with +rotting heaps where lay the trunks of trees, felled a generation +earlier. Scattered about the outer edge of the clearing, close to the +circle of trees, were a few bark huts, with roofs sagging and doors +agape. One or two were rivalled in height by the weeds that choked +their windows. As Menard stood between his guards under the last tree +on the trail, looking at the deserted village where the frightened +bats rose and wheeled, and the moonlight streamed on broken roofs, he +began to understand. The Long Arrow had found a place where he could +carry out his vengeance undisturbed. + +Other forms had risen from the weeds to greet the party. Looking more +closely, Menard saw that a group of Indians were dragging logs for a +fire. Evidently this was a rendezvous for two or more bands. He tried +to count the dim forms, and found them somewhat less than a score in +all. Perhaps the Long Arrow had found it not easy to raise a large +party to defy the will of the council concerning the White Chief; but +he had enough, and already the brandy was beginning to flow,--the +first stage of the orgie which should take up the rest of the night, +and perhaps the day to follow. The Long Arrow and his party at once +joined in the drinking. Confident that they would not this time be +interrupted, they would probably use all deliberation in preparing for +the torture. + +A rough meal was soon ready, and all fell to. Nothing was set apart +for the prisoner; though had he been weak they would have fed him to +stay him for the torture. One of his guardians, in mock pity, threw +him a bone to which a little meat clung. He asked that his hands be +loosed, or at least tied in front of his body, but his request brought +jeers from the little group about him. Seeing that there was no hope +of aid, he rolled over and gnawed the bone where it lay on the ground. +The warriors laughed again, and one kicked it away; but Menard crawled +after it, and this time was not disturbed. A little later, two other +Indians came from the fire, and after a talk with his guards, ordered +him to his feet and led him to one of the huts. The door was of rude +boards, hung on wooden hinges, and now held in place by a short log. +One brave kicked away the log, and Menard was thrown inside with such +force that he fell headlong. + +Through an opening in the roof came a wide beam of moonlight. He +looked up, and at first thought he was alone; then he saw two figures +crouching against the rear wall. His own face and head were so covered +with dust and blood that he could not have been recognized for a white +man. + +"Who are you?" he said in Iroquois. + +"Captain!" came in a startled voice that he knew for Father Claude's; +and a little gasp of relief from the other figure brought a thrill of +joy. He tried to raise himself, but in an instant they had come to him +and were laughing and sobbing and speaking his name. While Father +Claude seized his shoulders to lift him, the maid fell on her knees, +and with her teeth tried to cut the thongs. + +"Wait, Father," she said in a mumbled voice, without pausing in her +work; "wait a moment." + +Menard could feel her warm tears dropping on his hands. + +"You must not, Mademoiselle," said the priest. "You must let me." + +She shook her head, and worked faster, until the thongs fell away and +she could rub with her own torn hands the Captain's wrists. + +"Now he may arise, Father. See--see what they have done to him." + +Menard laughed. All the weight that had pressed on his heart had +lifted at the sound of her voice and the touch of her hands. The laugh +lingered until he was on his feet, and the three stood close together +in the patch of moonlight and looked each into the other's eyes--not +speaking, because there was no word so complete as the relief that had +come to them all; a relief so great, and a bond so strong that during +all the time they should live thereafter, through other days and other +times, even across the seas in lands where much should be about them +to draw a mist over the past, the moment would always be close in +their memories,--it would stand out above all other deeds and other +moments. Then the Captain held out his hands, and they each took one +in a long clasp that told them all to hope, that stirred a new, daring +thought in each heart. Father Claude at last turned away with shining +eyes. The maid stood looking up at this soldier whom she trusted, and +a little sigh passed her lips. Then she too turned, and to cover her +thoughts she hummed a gay air that Menard had heard the trumpeters +play at Quebec. + +"Tell us, M'sieu," she said abruptly, "what is it? How did it +happen?" + +"It is the Long Arrow." + +"So we thought," said Father Claude; "but he was not with the party +that brought us here, and we could not know. They came while we were +sleeping, and bound our mouths so that we could not scream. I was at +fault, I--" + +"No, Father. You cannot say that. I left you. I should have been at +your side." + +"Will you tell us about it, M'sieu?" asked the maid. She was leaning +against the bark wall, looking at the two men. + +Menard dropped to the ground, and in a quiet voice gave them the story +of his capture. The priest rested near him on the broken-down bench +that slanted against one wall. As the story grew, the maid came over +and sat at the Captain's feet where she could watch his face as he +talked. When he reached the account of the fight at the grave, he +paused and looked at her upturned face. Then he went on, but he did +not take up the tale where he had dropped it. He could not tell her of +Tegakwita's end. As he went on to the fight with the Long Arrow's band +and the flight through the hill country, he thought that she had +missed nothing; but when he had finished she said:-- + +"And Tegakwita, M'sieu? Did he come with them?" + +"No," Menard replied; "he did not come. I killed him." + +He had not meant to let the words come out so brutally. And now, as he +saw the frightened look, almost of horror, come into her eyes, he +suffered in a way that would not have been possible before he had +known this maid. He read her thoughts,--that she herself was the cause +of a double tragedy,--and it for the moment unmanned him. When he +could look at her again, she was more nearly herself. + +"Go on, M'sieu. There is more?" + +"No. There is no more, except that I am here with you. But of +yourselves? You have told me nothing." + +"We have told you all there is to tell," said Father Claude. "We were +taken while we slept. They have come rapidly, but otherwise they have +not been unkind." + +"You have had food?" + +"Yes." + +"We must think now," Menard said abruptly; "we must put our wits +together. It is late in the night, and we should be free before dawn. +Have you thought of any way?" + +"Yes," replied the priest, slowly, "we have thought of one. Teganouan +is with our party. At the first he tried to keep out of sight, but of +course he could not, once we were on the way. He was a long time at +the Mission of St. Francis, and I at one time hoped that he would +prove a true believer. It was drink that led him away from us,--an old +weakness with him. This morning, when he passed me, I knew that he was +ashamed. I dared not speak to him; but since then, whenever my eyes +have met his, I have seen that look of understanding." + +"I fear you will not see it to-night," said the Captain. "They are +drinking." + +"Ah, but he is not. He is guarding the hut. Come, M'sieu, it may be +that we can see him now." + +Menard rose, and with the priest peered through the cracks at the rear +of the hut. After a moment they saw him, standing in the shadow of a +tree. + +"You are sure it is he, Father?" + +"Ah, M'sieu, I should know him." + +Menard rested his hand on a strip of rotting bark in the wall. The +priest saw the movement. + +"Yes," he said cautiously, "it would be very simple. But you will be +cautious, M'sieu. Of course, I do not know--I cannot tell surely--and +yet it must be that Teganouan still has a warm heart. It cannot be +that he has forgotten the many months of my kindness." + +While they stood there, hesitating between a dozen hasty plans, a +light step sounded, and in an instant their eyes were at the opening. +A second Indian had joined the guard, and was talking with him in a +low voice. Father Claude gripped the Captain's arm. + +"See, M'sieu,--the wampum collar,--it is the Long Arrow." + +Menard laid his finger on his lips. The two Indians were not a dozen +yards away. The chief swayed unsteadily as he talked, and once his +voice rose. He carried a bottle, and paused now and then to drink from +it. + +"Teganouan is holding back," whispered Menard. "See, the Long Arrow +has taken his arm--they are coming--is the door fast?" + +"We cannot make it fast, M'sieu. It opens outward." + +Menard sprang across to the door and ran his hands over it, but found +no projection that could be used to hold it closed. He stood for a +moment, puzzling; then his face hardened, and he fell back to where +the priest and the maid stood side by side. + +"They will get in, M'sieu?" + +"Yes. It is better." + +They did not speak again. The moccasined feet made no noise on the +cleared ground, and it seemed a long time before they could hear the +log fall from the door. There were voices outside. At last the door +swung open, and the Long Arrow, bottle in hand, came clumsily into the +hut and stood unsteadily in the square of moonlight. He looked about +as if he could not see them. Teganouan had come in behind him; and the +door swung to, creaking. + +"The White Chief is the brother of the Long Arrow," said the chief, +speaking slowly and with an effort to make his words distinct. "He +loves the Onondagas. Deep in his mind are the thoughts of the young +white brave who lived in our villages and hunted with our braves and +called the mighty Big Throat his father. He never forgets what the +Onondagas have done for him. He has a grateful heart." The effort of +speaking was confusing to the chief. He paused, as if to collect his +ideas, and looked stupidly at the three silent figures before him. +"... grateful heart," he repeated. "The Long Arrow has a grateful +heart, too. He remembers the kind words of the white men who come to +his village and tell him of the love of the Great Mountain. He never +forgets that the Big Buffalo is his brother--he never forgets. When +the Big Buffalo took his son from the hunting party of the Onondagas +he did not forget." + +Menard did not listen further. He was looking about the hut with +quick, shifting eyes, now at the chief in the moonlight, now at +Teganouan, who stood at one side in the shadow, now at the door. Could +Teganouan be trusted to help them? He glanced sharply at the warrior, +who was looking at his chief with an alert, cunning expression. His +musket lay carelessly in the hollow of his arm, his knife and hatchet +hung at his waist. The chief had only his knife; in his hand was the +bottle, which he held loosely, now and then spilling a few drops of +the liquor. + +"The Long Arrow nev'r f'rgets,"--the chief's tongue was getting the +better of him. "His house is lonely, where the fire burns alone and +the young warr'r who once laid 's blanket,--laid 's blanket by the +fire, no long'r 's there to warm the heart of the Long Arrow. But now +his loneliness is gone. Now when he comes from the hunt to 's house +he'll find a new fire, a bright fire, and a new squaw to warm 's +heart--warm 's heart." He swayed a little as he spoke, and Teganouan +took a short step forward; but the chief drew himself up and came +slowly across the patch of moonlight. His eyes were unnaturally +bright, and they rolled uncertainly from one to another of the little +group before him. His coarse black hair was matted and tangled, and +the eagle feathers that at the council had stood erect from his head +now drooped, straggling, to one side. + +The maid had understood. The two men drew close to her on each side, +and her hand rested, trembling, on Menard's arm. All three were +thinking fast. One scream, the sound of a struggle or even of loud +voices, would bring upon them the whole drunken band. As the chief +approached, the maid could feel the muscles harden on the Captain's +arm. + +"Long Arrow's lonely--his fire's not bright when he comes from hunt--" +Here and there in his talk a few words were distinguishable as he +stood lurching before them. He reached out in a maudlin effort to +touch the maid's white face. She drew in her breath quickly and +stepped back; then Menard had sprung forward, and she covered her eyes +with her hands. + +There was a light scuffle, but no other sound. A strong smell of +brandy filled the hut. Slowly she lifted her head, and let her hands +drop to her sides. The Long Arrow lay sprawling at her feet, his head +gashed and bleeding, and covered with broken glass and dripping +liquor. The priest had kneeled beside him, and over his bowed head she +saw Teganouan, startled, defiant, his musket halfway to his shoulder, +his eyes fixed on the door. Her eyes followed his gaze. There stood +the Captain, his back to the door, the broken neck of the bottle +firmly gripped in his hand. + +She stepped forward, too struck with horror to remain silent. + +"Oh, M'sieu!" she said brokenly, stretching out her hands. + +He motioned to her to be quiet, and she sank down on the bench. + +"Father," he said. + +The priest looked up questioningly. There was a long moment of +silence, and the shouts and calls of the half-drunken revellers +without sounded strangely loud. Then, as the priest gazed at the set, +hard face of the Captain, and at the motionless Indian, he understood +of a sudden all the wild plan that was forming in the Captain's mind. +He rose slowly to his feet, and stood facing Teganouan, with the light +streaming down upon his gentle face. + +"The sun has gone to sleep many times, Teganouan, since you left the +great white house of the church at St. Francis. You have heard the +counsel of evil men, who think only of the knife and the hatchet and +the musket, who have no dream but to slay their brothers." He was +speaking slowly and in a kindly voice, as a father might speak to a +son who has wandered from the right. "Have you forgotten the talk of +the holy Fathers, when they told you the words of the Book of the +Great Spirit, who is to all your Manitous and Okis as the sun is to +the stars. Have you forgotten the many moons that passed while you +lived in the great white house,--when you gave your promise, the +promise of an Onondaga, that you would be a friend to the white man, +that you would believe the words of the Great Spirit and live a +peaceful life? Have you forgotten, Teganouan, the evil days when your +enemy, the fire-water, took possession of your heart and led you away +from the white house into the lodges of them that do wrong,--how when +the good spirit returned to you and you came back to the arms of the +Faith, you were received as a son and a brother? The holy Fathers did +not say, 'This warrior has done that which he should not do. Let him +be punished. We have no place for the wrongdoer.' No; they did not say +this. They said, 'The lost is found. He that wandered from the fold +has returned.' And they welcomed the lost one, and bade him repent and +lead a right life. Have you forgotten, Teganouan?" + +The Indian had slowly lowered his musket. + +"Teganouan has not forgotten," he replied. "He has a grateful heart +toward the holy Fathers of the great white house. When he was sick, +they brought him their good doctor and told him to live. He believed +that the white men were his brothers, that they would do to him as the +Fathers had promised. But when Teganouan came to the white men, and +asked to be made like they were, he left behind in his village a +brother and a sister and a father who said that he was a traitor, who +said that he was false to the trust of his blood and his nation, that +he was not of their blood." + +"And did he believe them? Did he not know, better than they could, +that the faith of the white man is also the faith of the redman; that +the love of the white man includes all who breathe and speak and hunt +and trade and move upon the earth?" + +"Teganouan has not forgotten. He heard the words of the Fathers, and +he believed that they were true; but when the white Captain took from +the Onondagas five score of their bravest warriors and called them +slaves, when he took the brother of Teganouan, borne by the same +mother and fed by the same hand, to be a slave of the mighty +Chief-Across-the-Water, could he remember what the holy Fathers had +said,--that all men were brothers?" + +"Teganouan has heard what the White Chief, the Big Buffalo, has said, +that the evil man who was treacherous to the Onondagas shall be +punished?" + +"Teganouan understands. But the evil man is far from the vengeance of +the white man. The White Chief is here in our lodges." + +Menard left the door and came to the priest's side. The jagged piece +of glass, his only weapon, he threw to the ground. + +"Teganouan," he said slowly and firmly, looking into the Indian's +eyes, "you heard the great council at the Long House of the Five +Nations. You heard the decision of the chiefs and warriors, that they +whom Onontio had sent to bring a message of peace should be set free. +You have broken the pledge made by your council. You have attacked us +and made us prisoners, and brought us here where we may be tortured +and killed and none may know. But when the Great Mountain finds that +the Big Buffalo has not come back, when he sends his white soldier to +the villages of the Onondagas and asks what they have done to him who +brought his voice, what will you say? When the chiefs say, 'We set him +free,' and look about to find the warrior who has dared to disobey the +Long House, what will you say? When the young boys and the drunkards +with loose tongues have told the story of the death of the Long Arrow, +what will you say? Then you will be glad to flee to the white house of +the holy Fathers, knowing that they will protect you and save you when +the braves of your own blood shall pursue you." + +Teganouan's eyelids had drooped, and now he was looking at the ground, +where the chief lay. + +"You will come with me, Teganouan. You will fly with us over the Long +Lake, and through the forests and down the mighty rivers and over the +inland sea, and there you shall be safe; and you shall see with your +own eyes the punishment that the Great Mountain will give to the evil +man who has been false to the Onondagas." + +He held out his hand, and silently waited. The priest's head was +raised, and his lips moved slowly in prayer. The maid sat rigid, her +hands tightly gripping the edge of the bench. Though he knew that +every moment brought nearer the chance of discovery, that the lives of +them all hung on a thread as slender as a hair, the Captain stood +without the twitching of a muscle, without a sign of fear or haste in +his grave, worn face. + +The Indian's eyes wavered. He looked at the fallen chief, at the +priest, at Menard; then he took the offered hand. No further word was +needed. Menard did not know the thought that lay behind the cunning +face; it was enough that the Indian had given his word. + +"Quick, we must hide him," said the Captain, looking swiftly about the +hut. "We must disturb you, Mademoiselle--" + +In a moment the three men had lifted the body of the Long Arrow and +laid it away under the low bench. Teganouan scraped a few handfuls of +earth from a corner and spread it over the spot where the chief had +been. + +"How far is it to the lake, Teganouan?" + +"But a few rods." + +"And the forest is thick?" + +"Yes." + +"We must cross the lake. Is there a canoe here?" + +The Indian shook his head. Menard stood thinking for an instant. + +"If you are thinking of me, M'sieu, I think I can swim with you," said +the maid, timidly. + +"There is no other way, Mademoiselle. I am sorry. But we will make it +as easy as we can." + +He stepped to the rear wall, and with a blow of his fist would have +broken an opening through the rotted bank, but the Indian caught his +arm. + +"It is not necessary. See." He set rapidly to work, and in a few +silent moments he had unlaced the thread-like root that held the sheet +of bark in place, and lowered it to the ground. He raised himself by +the cross-pole that marked the top of the wall, and slipped through +the opening. A few quick glances through the trees, and he turned and +beckoned. Menard followed, with the knife of the Long Arrow between +his teeth; and with Father Claude's help the maid got through to where +he could catch her and lower her to the ground. + +The Indian made a cautious gesture and crept slowly through the +yielding bushes. One by one they followed, the Captain lingering until +the maid was close to him and he could whisper to her to keep her +courage. They paused at the bank of the lake. The water lay sparkling +in the moonlight. Menard looked grimly out; this light added to the +danger. He found a short log close at hand and carried it to the +water. + +"Come, Mademoiselle," he whispered, "and Father Claude. This will +support you. Teganouan and I will swim. Keep low in the water, and do +not splash or speak. The slightest noise will travel far across the +lake." + +Slowly they waded out, dropping into the water before it was waist +deep. Teganouan's powder-horn and musket lay on the log, and the maid +herself steadied it so that they should not be lost. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +NORTHWARD. + + +Weak and chilled from the long swim through the cold water they +dragged themselves across the narrow beach to the bushes that hung +over the bank. Menard and Father Claude supported the maid, who was +trembling and clinging to them. At the bank she sank to the ground. + +"It is hard, Mademoiselle, but we must not stop. It is better to be +weary than to rest in this condition. It would mean sickness." + +"Yes," she said; "I know. In a moment I can go on." She looked up and +tried to smile. "It is so cold, M'sieu." + +Menard turned to Teganouan. + +"How far is it to the villages of the Cayugas?" + +"Not far. Half a sleep." + +"Is there a trail?" + +"The trail is far. It passes the end of the Long Lake." He raised his +head and looked at the stars, then pointed to the southwest. "The +nearest village lies there. If we go through the forest toward the +setting sun, we shall meet the trail." + +"You think it will be wise to go to the Cayugas, M'sieu?" asked Father +Claude. + +"I think so. The chiefs must have returned before this time, or at +least by the morrow." He dropped into the Iroquois tongue. "Is not +this so, Teganouan? Would the chiefs of the Cayugas linger among the +Onondagas after the close of the council?" + +"The Cayuga warriors await the word of the Long House. They know that +their chiefs would hasten to bring it back to them." + +"Yes. It must be so, Father. And we can trust them to aid us. Perhaps +they will give us a canoe. Teganouan must tell them he is our guide, +sent by the Big Throat and the chiefs of the Onondagas to take us +safely to Frontenac." + +The maid was struggling to keep awake, but her lids were heavy. Menard +came to her and stood, hesitating. She knew that he was there; she +could hear the rustle of his wet clothes, and his heavy breathing, but +she did not look up. + +"Come," he said, lightly touching her shoulder, "we cannot wait here. +We must go." + +She did not reply, and he hesitated again. Then he stooped and lifted +her in his arms. + +"You will go ahead, Teganouan," he said, "and you, too, if you will, +Father Claude. Choose an easy trail if you can, and be careful that no +twig flies back." + +They set out slowly through the forest. The priest and the Indian +laboriously broke a way, and Menard followed, holding the maid +tenderly, and now and then, in some lighter spot where a beam of +moonlight fell through the foliage, looking down at her gentle, weary +face. She was sleeping; and he prayed that no sad dreams might come to +steal her rest. His arms ached and his knees gave under him, but he +had hardly a thought for himself. At last, after a long, silent march, +the priest stopped, and said, supporting himself with one thin hand +against a tree:-- + +"You are weary, M'sieu. You must let me take Mademoiselle." + +"No, Father, no. I have been thinking. I am afraid it is not right +that she should sleep now. Even though she fail in the effort, +exercise of her muscles is all that will prevent sickness. And yet I +cannot,"--he looked again at her face as it rested against his +shoulder,--"I cannot awaken her now." + +The Father saw the sorrow in the Captain's eyes, and understood. + +"I will take her, M'sieu." + +Carefully Menard placed her in Father Claude's arms and turned away. + +"Teganouan," he said, trying to recover his self-possession, "should +we not be near the trail?" + +"Yes, more than half the way." + +"Can we reach it more quickly by heading a little to the north?" + +"We would reach the trail, yes; but the way would be longer." + +"Never mind; once on the trail it will be easier than in this forest. +Turn to the north, Teganouan." + +He could hear the maid's voice, protesting sleepily, and Father Claude +talking quietly to her. He looked around. The priest said in a low +tone:-- + +"Come, M'sieu, it is hard to awaken her." + +"We must frighten her, then." + +He caught her shoulders and shook her roughly. Slowly her eyes opened, +and then the two men dragged her forward. At first she thought herself +back among the Onondagas, and she begged them not to take her away, +hanging back and forcing them almost to carry her. It cut Menard to +the heart, but he pushed steadily forward. Later she yielded, and with +a dazed expression obeyed. Once or twice she stumbled, and would have +fallen but for the strong hands that held her. Father Claude rested +his hand on her forehead as they walked, and Menard gave him an +anxious, questioning glance. The priest shook his head. + +"No," he said, "there is no fever. I trust that it is nothing worse +than exhaustion." + +Menard went on with relief in his eyes. + +In less than half an hour after reaching the trail, they came upon the +outlying huts of the village. Over the hills to the east the dawn was +breaking, and all the sleeping birds and beasts and creeping things of +the forest were stirring into life and movement. Teganouan went ahead +of the party and soon roused a member of the Cayuga branch of his +clan, the family of the Bear. Through the yawning services of this +warrior they were guided to an unused hut. Teganouan searched farther, +and returned with a heap of blankets for the maid, who had dropped to +the ground before the hut. Menard carried her within and made her as +comfortable as possible, then withdrew and closed the door. + +"Have the chiefs returned from the council at the village of the +Onondagas?" he asked of the warrior, who stood at one side watching +them with curiosity in his gaze. + +The Cayuga bowed. + +"Will my brother carry a message from the White Chief, the Big +Buffalo, to his chiefs? Will he tell them, as soon as the sun has +risen, that the Big Buffalo has come to talk with them?" + +The warrior bowed and walked away. + +"We are safe now, I think, Father. We must get what little sleep we +can between now and sunrise." + +"Should not one of us watch, M'sieu?" + +"We are not fit for it. We have hard work before us, and many a chance +yet to run." + +"Teganouan will watch," said the Indian. + +Menard's face showed surprise, but Father Claude whispered, "He has +learned at the mission to understand our language." + +They lay on the ground before the hut, in their wet clothes, and in a +moment were asleep. Teganouan built a fire close at hand, and sat by +it without a motion, excepting the alert shifting glances of his +bead-like eyes, until, when the colours in the east had faded into +blue and the sun was well above the trees, he saw the chiefs of the +village coming slowly toward him between the huts, a crowd of young +men following behind them, and a snarling pack of dogs running before. +He aroused Menard and Father Claude. + +The chiefs sat in a circle about the fire, the two white men among +them. The other Indians sat and stood in a wider circle, just within +earshot, and waited inquisitively for the White Chief to state his +errand. + +"My brothers, the white men, have asked to speak with the chiefs of +the Cayugas," said the spokesman, a wrinkled old warrior, whom Menard +recognized as one of the speakers at the Long House. + +"The Big Buffalo is on his way to the stone house of Onontio. He is +far from the trail. His muskets and his knives and hatchets were taken +from him by the Onondagas and were not returned to him. He asks that +the chiefs of the Cayugas permit him to use one of their many canoes, +that he may hasten to carry to Onontio the word of the Long House." + +"The White Chief comes to the Cayugas, who live two sleeps away from +their brothers, the Onondagas, to ask for aid. Have the Onondagas then +refused him? Why is my brother so far from the trail?" + +"The chiefs of the Cayugas sat in the Long House; they heard the words +of the great council, that the Big Buffalo and the holy Father and the +white maiden should be set free. They know that what is decided in the +council is the law of the nation, that no warrior shall break it." + +The little circle was silent with attention, but none of the chiefs +replied. + +"It was still in the dark of the night when the Big Throat came to the +lodge of the Big Buffalo, and gave him the pledge of the council that +he should be free with the next sun. The Big Buffalo once learned to +believe the pledge of the Iroquois. When the mighty Big Throat said +that he was free, he believed. He did not set a guard to sit with +wakeful eyes through the night in fear that the pledge was not true. +No, the Big Buffalo is a warrior and a chief; he is not a woman. He +trusted his red brothers, and rested his head to sleep. Then in the +dark came a chief, a dog of a traitor, and took away his white brother +and his white sister while their eyes were still heavy with sleep, and +carried them far over the hills to the lake of the Cayugas. Here they +hid like serpents in the long grass, and thought that they would kill +them. But the Big Buffalo is a warrior. Without a knife or a musket or +a hatchet he killed the Long Arrow and came across the Long Lake. He +knew that the Cayugas were his brothers, that they would not break the +pledge of the Long House." + +The grave faces of the Indians showed no surprise, save for a slight +movement of the eyes on the part of one or two of the younger men, +when the Long Arrow was mentioned. Most of them had lighted their +pipes before sitting down, and now they puffed in silence. + +"The White Chief speaks strangely," the spokesman said at last. "He +tells the Cayugas that their brothers, the Onondagas, have broken the +pledge of the council." + +"Yes." + +"He asks for aid?" + +"No," said Menard, "he does not ask for aid. He asks that the Iroquois +nation restore to him what the dogs of the Long Arrow have taken away. +He has spoken to the Long House in the voice of the Great Mountain. He +has the right of a free man, of a chief honoured by the council, to go +freely and in peace. What if those who do not respect the law of the +council shall rob him of his rights? Must he go on his knees to the +chiefs? Must he ask that he be allowed to live? Must he go far back on +his trail to seek aid of the Onondagas, because the Cayugas will not +hold to the law?" + +One of the great lessons learned during Menard's work under Governor +Frontenac had been that the man who once permits himself to be lowered +in the eyes of the Indians has forever lost his prestige. Now he sat +before the chiefs of a great village, weak from the strain of the long +days and nights of distress and wakefulness and hunger, his clothing +still wet and bedraggled, with no weapon but a knife, no canoe, not to +speak of presents,--with none of the equipment which to the Indian +mind suggested authority,--and yet made his demands in the stern voice +of a conqueror. He knew that these Indians cared not at all whether +the word of the council to him had been broken or kept, unless he +could so impress them with his authority that they would fear +punishment for the offence. + +"The Big Buffalo is a mighty warrior," said the spokesman. "His hard +hands are greater than the muskets and hatchets of the Cayugas. He +fights with the strength of the winter wind; no man can stand where +his hand falls. He speaks wisely to the Cayugas. They are sorry that +their brothers, the Onondagas, have so soon forgotten the word of the +great council, Let the Big Buffalo rest his arms. The warriors of the +Cayugas shall be proud to offer him food." + +They all rose, and after a few grunted words of friendship, filed away +to go over the matter in private council. Menard saw that they were +puzzled; perhaps they did not believe that he had killed the Long +Arrow. He turned to Teganouan, who had been sitting a few yards away. + +"Teganouan, will you go among the braves of the village and tell them +that the Big Buffalo is a strong fighter, that he killed the Long +Arrow with his hands? It may be that they have not believed." + +This was the kind of strategy Teganouan understood. He walked slowly +away, puffing at his pipe, to mingle among the people of the village +and boast in bold metaphors the prowess of his White Chief. + +"They will give us a canoe," said Father Claude. + +"Yes, they must. Now, let us sleep again." + +They dropped to the ground, and Menard looked warningly at the circle +of young boys who came as close as they dared to see this strange +white man, and to hear him talk in the unpronounceable language. +Father Claude's eyes were first to close. The Captain was about to +join him in slumber when a low voice came from the door. + +"M'sieu." + +He started up and saw the maid holding the door ajar and leaning +against it, her pale face, framed in a tangle of soft hair, showing +traces of the wearing troubles of the days just passed. + +"Ah, Mademoiselle, you must not waken. You must sleep long, and rest, +and grow bright and young again." + +She smiled, and looked at him timidly. + +"I have been dreaming, M'sieu," she said, and her eyes dropped, "such +an unpleasant dream. It was after we had crossed the lake--We did +cross it, M'sieu, did we not? That, too, was not a dream? No--see, my +hair is wet." + +"No," he said, "that was not a dream." + +"We were on the land, and I was so tired, and you talked to +me--something good--I cannot remember what it was, but I know that you +were good. And I thought that I--that I said words that hurt you, +unkind words. And when I wished and tried to speak as I felt, only the +other words would come. That was a dream, M'sieu, was it not? It has +been troubling me. You have been so kind, and I could not sleep +thinking that--that--" + +"Yes," he said, "that was a dream." + +She looked at him with relief, but as she looked she seemed to become +more fully awake to what they were saying. Her eyes lowered again, and +the red came over her face. + +"I am glad," she said, so low that he hardly heard. + +"And now you will rest, Mademoiselle?" + +She smiled softly, and drew back within the hut, closing the heavy +door. And Menard turned away, unmindful of the wide-eyed boys who were +staring from a safe distance at him and at the door where the strange +woman had appeared. He sat with his back against the logs of the hut, +and looked at the ants that hurried about over the trampled ground. + +The sun was high when he was aroused by Teganouan, who had spent the +greater part of the morning among the people of the village. + +"Have you any word, Teganouan?" + +"Yes. The warriors have learned of the strength of the Big Buffalo, +and his name frightens them. They bow to the great chief who has +killed the Long Arrow without a hatchet. They say that the Onondagas +should be punished for their treachery." + +"Good." + +"Teganouan has been talking long with a runner of the Seneca nation." + +"Ah, he brings word of the fight?" + +"Yes. The Senecas have suffered under the iron hand of the Great +Mountain. A great army takes up the hatchet when he goes on the +war-path, more than all the Senecas and Cayugas and Onondagas together +when every brave who can hold in his hand a bow or a musket has come +to fight with his brothers. There were white warriors so many that the +runner could not have counted them with all the sticks in the Long +House. There were men of the woods in the skins and beads of the +redmen; there were Hurons and Ottawas and Nipissings, and even the +cowardly Illinois and the Kaskaskias and the Miamis from the land +where the Great River flows past the Rock Demons. The Senecas fought +with the strength of the she-bear, but their warriors were killed, +their corn was trampled and cut, their lodges were burned." + +"Did the Great Mountain pursue them?" + +"He has gone back to his stone house across the great lake, leaving +the land black and smoking. The Senecas have come to the western +villages of the Cayugas." + +"There are none in this village?" + +"No. But the chiefs have sent blankets to their brothers, and as much +corn as a hundred braves could carry over the trail. They have taken +from their own houses to give to the Senecas." + +A few moments later two young men came with baskets of sagamity and +smoked meat. Menard received it, and rising, knocked gently at the +door. + +"Yes, M'sieu,--I am not sleeping." + +He hesitated, and she came to the door and opened it. + +"Ah, you have food, M'sieu! I am glad. I have been so hungry." + +"Come, Father," said the Captain, and they entered and sat on the long +bench, eating the smoky, greasy meat as eagerly as if it had been +cooked for the Governor's table. Their spirits rose as the baskets +emptied, and they found that they could laugh and joke about their +ravenous hunger. + +The chiefs returned shortly after, and came stooping into the hut in +the free Indian fashion. The old chief spoke:-- + +"The Big Buffalo has honoured the lodges of the Cayugas; he has made +the village proud to offer him their corn and meat. It would make +their hearts glad if he would linger about their fires, with the holy +Father and the squaw, that they might tell their brothers of the great +warrior who dwelt in their village. But the White Chief bears the word +of the Long House. He goes to the stone house to tell his white +brothers, who fight with the thunder, that the Cayugas and the +Onondagas are friends of the white men, that they have given a pledge +which binds them as close as could the stoutest ropes of deerskin. And +so with sad hearts they come to say farewell to the Big Buffalo, and +to wish that no dog may howl while he sleeps, that no wind may blow +against his canoe, that no rains may fall until he rests with his +brothers at the great stone house beyond the lake." + +"The Big Buffalo thanks the mighty chiefs of the Cayugas," replied +Menard. "He is glad that they are his friends. And when his mouth is +close to the ear of the Great Mountain, he will tell him that his +Cayuga sons are loyal to their Father." + +The chief had lighted a long pipe. After two deliberate puffs, the +first upward toward the roof of the hut, the second toward the ground, +he handed it to Menard, who followed his example, and passed it to the +chief next in importance. As it went slowly from hand to hand about +the circle, the Captain turned to the maid, who sat at his side. + +"Do they mean it, M'sieu?" she whispered. + +For an instant a twinkle came into his eye; she saw it, and smiled. + +"Careful," he whispered. + +Before she could check the smile, a bronze hand reached across to her +with the pipe. She started back and looked down at it. + +"You must smoke it," Menard whispered. "It is a great honour. They +have admitted you to their council." + +"Oh, M'sieu--I can't--" she took the pipe and held it awkwardly; then, +with an effort, raised it to her mouth. It made her cough, and she +gave it quickly to the Captain. + +The Indians rose gravely and filed out of the hut. + +"Come, Mademoiselle, we are to go." + +The smoke had brought tears to her eyes, and she was hesitating, +laughing in spite of herself. + +"Oh, M'sieu, will--will it make me sick?" + +He smiled, with a touch of the old light humour. + +"I think not. We must go, or they will wonder." + +They found the chiefs waiting before the hut, Father Claude and +Teganouan among them. As soon as they had appeared, the whole party +set out through the village and over a trail through the woods to the +eastward. The ill-kept dogs played about them, and plunged, barking, +through the brush on either side. Behind, at a little distance, came +the children and hangers-on of the village, jostling one another to +keep at the head where they could see the white strangers. + +When they reached the bank of the lake, they found two canoes drawn up +on the narrow strip of gravel, and a half-dozen well-armed braves +waiting close at hand. The chief paused and pointed toward the +canoes. + +"The Cayugas are proud that the White Chief will sail in their canoes +to the land of the white men. The bravest warriors of a mighty village +will go with them to see that no Onondaga arrow flies into their camp +by night." + +He signalled to a brave, who brought forward a musket and laid it, +with powder-horn and bullet-pouch, at the Captain's feet. + +"This musket is to tell the Big Buffalo that no wild beast shall +disturb his feast, and that meat in plenty shall hang from the +smoking-pole in his lodge." + +The canoes were carried into the water and they embarked,--Menard, the +maid, and two braves in one, Father Claude and four braves in the +other. They swung out into the lake, the wiry arms and shoulders of +the canoemen knotting with each stroke of the paddles; and the crowd +of Indians stood on the shore gazing after until they had passed from +view beyond a wooded point. + +A few hours should take them to the head of the lake. They had reached +perhaps half the distance, when Menard saw that two of his canoemen +had exchanged glances and were looking toward the shore. He glanced +along the fringe of trees and bushes, a few hundred yards distant, +until his eyes rested on three empty canoes. He called to Father +Claude's canoe, and both, at his order, headed for the shore. As they +drew near, half a score of Indians came from the brush. + +"Why," said the maid, "there are some of the men who brought us to the +lake." + +"Yes," replied Menard, "it is the Long Arrow's band." + +He leaped out of the canoe before it touched the beach, and walked +sternly up to the group of warriors. He knew why they were there. It +was what he had expected. When they had discovered the death of the +Long Arrow there had been rage and consternation. Disputes had +followed, the band had divided, and a part had crossed the lake to +hunt the trail of the Big Buffalo. He folded his arms and gave them a +long, contemptuous look. + +"Why do the Onondagas seek the trail of the Big Buffalo? Do they think +to overtake him? Do they think that all their hands together are +strong enough to hold him? Did they think that they could lie to the +White Chief, could play the traitor, and go unpunished?" + +Only one or two of the Onondagas had their muskets in their hands. +They all showed fright, and one was edging toward the wood. The +Cayugas in the canoes, at a word from Father Claude, had raised their +muskets. Menard saw the movement from the corner of his eye, and for +the moment doubted the wisdom of the action. It was a question whether +the Cayugas could actually be brought to fire on their Onondaga +brothers. Still, this band had defied the law of the council, and +might, in the eyes of the Indians, bring down another war upon the +nation by their act. While he spoke, the Captain had been deciding on +a course. He now walked boldly up to the man who was nearest the +bushes, and snatched away his musket. There was a stir and a murmur, +but without heeding, he took also the only other musket in the party, +and stepped between the Indians and the forest. + +"Stand where you are, or I will kill you. One man"--he pointed to a +youth--"will go into the forest and bring your muskets to the +canoes." + +They hesitated, but Menard held his piece ready to fire, and the +Cayugas did the same. At last the youth went sullenly into the bushes +and brought out an armful of muskets. + +"Count them, Father," Menard called in French. + +The priest did so, and then ran his eye over the party on the beach. + +"There are two missing, M'sieu." + +Menard turned to the youth, who, though he had not understood the +words, caught their spirit and hurried back for the missing weapons. +Then the Captain walked coolly past them, and took his place in the +canoe. For a long time, as they paddled up the lake, they could see +the Onondagas moving about the beach, and could hear their angry +voices. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +THE ONLY WAY. + + +When at last the canoe slipped from the confines of river and hills +and forest out upon the great Lake Ontario, where the green water +stretched flat, east and north and west to the horizon, the Cayuga +warriors said farewell and turned again to their own lands. It was at +noon of a bright day. The water lay close to the white beach, with +hardly a ripple to mar the long black scallops of weed and drift which +the last storm had left on the sand. The sky was fair and the air +sweet. + +In the one canoe which the Cayugas had left to them, the little party +headed to the east, now skimming close to the silent beach, now +cutting a straight path across some bay from point to point, out over +the depths where lay the sturgeon and the pickerel and trout and +whitefish. The gulls swooped at them; then, frightened, soared away in +wide, rushing circles, dropping here and there for an overbold minnow. +The afternoon went by with hardly the passing of a word. Each of them, +the Captain, the maid, the priest, looked over the burnished water, +now a fair green or blue sheet, now a space of striped yellow and +green and purple, newly marked by every phase of sun and cloud; and to +each it meant that the journey was done. Here was solitude, with none +of the stir of the forest to bring companionship; but as they looked +out to the cloud-puffs that dipped behind the water at the world's +end, they knew that far yonder were other men whose skins were white, +for all of beard and tan, whose tongue was the tongue of Montreal, of +Quebec, of Paris,--and neither tree nor rock nor mountain lay between. +The water that bore them onward was the water that washed the beach at +Frontenac. Days might pass and find them still on the road; but they +would be glorious days, with the sun overhead and the breeze at their +backs, and at evening the wonder of the western sky to make the water +golden with promise. As they swung their paddles, the maid with them, +their eyes were full of dreams,--all save Teganouan. His eyes were +keen and cunning, and when they looked to the north it was not with +thoughts of home. It may be that he was dreaming of the deed which +might yet win back his lost name as an Onondaga warrior. + +The sun hung over the lake when at last the canoe touched the beach. +They ate their simple meal almost in silence, and then sat near the +fire watching the afterglow that did not fade from the west until the +night was dark and the moon high over the dim line that marked the +eastern end of the lake. The sense of relief that had come to them +with the first sight of the lake was fading now. They were thinking of +Frontenac, and of what might await them there,--the priest soberly, +the maid bravely, the Captain grimly. Later, when the maid had said +good-night, and Father Claude had wandered down the beach to the +water's edge, Menard dragged a new log to the fire and threw it on, +sending up the flame and sparks high above the willows of the bank. He +stretched out and looked into the flames. + +Teganouan, who had been lying on the sand, heard a rustle far off in +the forest and raised his head. He heard it again, and rose, standing +motionless; then he took his musket and came toward the fire. The +Captain lay at full length, his chin on his hands. He was awake, for +his eyes were open, but he did not look up. The Indian hesitated, and +stood a few yards away looking at the silent figure, as if uncertain +whether to speak. Finally he stepped back and disappeared among the +willows. + +Half an hour went by. Father Claude came up the beach, walking +slowly. + +"It is growing late, M'sieu, for travellers." + +Menard glanced up, but did not reply. The priest was looking about the +camp. + +"Where is Teganouan, M'sieu? Did you give him permission to go away?" + +"No; he is here,--he was here." Menard rose. "You are right, he has +gone. Has he taken his musket?" + +"I think so. I do not see it." + +"He left it leaning against the log. No; it is not there. Wait,--do +you hear?" + +They stood listening; and both caught the faint sound of a body moving +between the bushes that grew on the higher ground, close to the line +of willows. Menard took up his musket and held it ready, for they had +not left the country of the Iroquois. + +"Here he comes," whispered Father Claude. "Yes, it is Teganouan." + +The Indian was running toward them. He dropped his musket, and began +rapidly to throw great handfuls of sand upon the fire. The two white +men sprang to aid him, without asking an explanation. In a moment the +beach was lighted only by the moon. Then Menard said:-- + +"What is it, Teganouan?" + +"Teganouan heard a step in the forest. He went nearer, and there were +more. They are on the war-path, for they come cautiously and slowly." + +"Father, will you keep by the maid? We must not disturb her now. You +had better heap up the sand about the canoe so that no stray ball can +reach her." + +The priest hurried down the beach, and Menard and the Indian slipped +into the willows, Menard toward the east, Teganouan toward the west, +where they could watch the forest and the beach on all sides. The +sound of an approaching party was now more distinct. There would be a +long silence, then the crackle of a twig or the rustle of dead leaves; +and Menard knew that the sound was made by moccasined feet. He was +surprised that the invaders took so little caution; either they were +confident of finding the camp asleep, or they were in such force as to +have no fear. While he lay behind a scrub willow conjecturing, Father +Claude came creeping up behind him. + +"I will watch with you, M'sieu. It will make our line longer." + +"Is she safe?" + +"Yes. I have heaped the sand high around the canoe, even on the side +toward the water." + +"Good. You had better move off a little nearer the lake, and keep a +sharp eye out. It may be that they are coming by water as well, though +I doubt it. The lake is very light. I will take the centre. You have +no musket?" + +"No; but my eyes are good." + +"If you need me, I shall be close to the bushes, a dozen yards farther +inland." + +They separated, and Menard took up his new position. Apparently the +movement had stopped. For a long time no sound came, and then, as +Menard was on the point of moving forward, a branch cracked sharply +not twenty rods away. He called in French:-- + +"Who are you?" + +For a moment there was silence, then a rush of feet in his direction. +He could hear a number of men bounding through the bushes. He cocked +his gun and levelled it, shouting this time in Iroquois:-- + +"Stand, or I will fire!" + +"I know that voice! Drop your musket!" came in a merry French voice, +and in another moment a sturdy figure, half in uniform and half in +buckskin, bearded beyond recognition, had come crashing down the +slope, throwing his arms around the Captain's neck so wildly that the +two went down and rolled on the sand. Before Menard could struggle to +his feet, three soldiers had followed, and stood laughing, forgetting +all discipline, and one was saying over and over to the other:-- + +"It is Captain Menard! Don't you know him? It is Captain Menard!" + +"You don't know me, Menard, I can see that. I wish I could take the +beard off, but I can't. What have you done with my men?" + +Now Menard knew; it was Du Peron. + +"I left them at La Gallette," he said. + +"I haven't seen them--oh, killed?" + +Menard nodded. + +"Come down the beach and tell me about it. What condition are you in? +Have you anybody with you?" Before Menard could answer, he said to one +of the soldiers:-- + +"Go back and tell the sergeant to bring up the canoes." + +They walked down the beach, and the other soldiers set about building +a new fire. + +"Perhaps I'd better begin on you," Menard said. "What are you doing +here? And what in the devil do you mean by coming up through the woods +like a Mohawk on the war-path?" + +The Lieutenant laughed. + +"My story isn't a long one. I'm cleaning up our base of supplies at La +Famine. We've got a small guard there. The main part of the rear-guard +is back at Frontenac." + +"Where is the column?" + +"Gone to Niagara, Denonville and all, to build a fort. They'll give it +to De Troyes, I imagine. It's a sort of triumphal procession through +the enemy's country, after rooting up the Seneca villages and fields +and stockades until you can't find an able-bodied redskin this side of +the Cayugas. Oh, I didn't answer your other question. What do you +think of these?" He held out a foot, shod in a moccasin. "You'd never +know the King's troops now, Menard. We're wearing anything we can pick +up. I've got a dozen canoes a quarter of a league down the lake. I saw +your fire, and thought it best to reconnoitre before bringing the +canoes past." He read the question in Menard's glance. "We are not +taking out much time for sleep, I can tell you. It's all day and all +night until we get La Famine cleared up. There is only a handful of +men there, and we're expecting every day that the Cayugas and +Onondagas will sweep down on them." + +"They won't bother you," said Menard. + +"Maybe not, but we must be careful. For my part, I look for trouble. +The nations stand pretty closely by each other, you know." + +"They won't bother you now." + +"How do you know?" + +"What did I come down here for?" + +"They didn't tell me. Oh, you had a mission to the other nations? But +that can't be,--you were captured." + +Menard lay on his side, and watched the flames go roaring upward as +the soldiers piled up the logs. + +"I could tell you some things, Du Peron," he said slowly. "I suppose +you didn't know,--for that matter you couldn't know,--but when the +column was marching on the Senecas, and our rear-guard of four hundred +men--" + +"Four hundred and forty." + +"The same thing. You can't expect the Cayugas to count so sharply as +that. At that time the Cayugas and Onondagas held a council to discuss +the question of sending a thousand warriors to cut off the rear-guard +and the Governor's communications." + +The Lieutenant slowly whistled. + +"How did they know so much about it, Menard?" + +"How could they help it? Our good Governor had posted his plans on +every tree. You can see what would have happened." + +"Why, with the Senecas on his front it would have been--" He paused, +and whistled again. + +"Well,--you see. But they didn't do it." + +"Why not?" + +"Because I spoke at that council." + +"You spoke--but you were a prisoner, weren't you?" + +"Yes." + +The Lieutenant sat staring into the fire. Slowly it came to him what +it was that the Captain had accomplished. + +"Why, Menard," he said, "New France won't be able to hold you, when +this gets out. How you must have gone at them. You'll be a major in a +week. You're the luckiest man this side of Versailles." + +"No, I'm not. And I won't be a major. I'm not on the Governor's pocket +list. But I don't care about that. That isn't the reason I did it." + +"Why did you do it then?" + +"I--That's the question I've been asking myself for several days, Du +Peron." + +The Lieutenant was too thoroughly aroused to note the change in the +Captain's tone. + +"You don't see it right now, Menard. Wait till you've reached the +city, and got into some clothes and a good bed, and can shake hands +with d'Orvilliers and Provost and the general staff,--maybe with the +Governor himself. Then you'll feel different. You're down now. I know +how it feels. You're all tired out, and you've got the Onondaga dirt +rubbed on so thick that you're lost in it. You wait a few weeks." + +"Did the Governor have much trouble with the Senecas?" + +"Oh, he had to fight for it. He was--My God, Menard, what about the +girl? I was so shaken up at meeting you like this that it got away +from me. The column had hardly got to the fort on their way up from +Montreal before everyone was asking for you. La Grange had a letter +from her father saying that she was with you, and he's been in a bad +way. He says that he was to have married her, and that you've got away +with her. It serves him right, the beast. One night, at La Famine, he +was drunk, and he came around to all of us reading that letter at the +top of his voice and swearing to kill you the moment he sees you. He's +been talking a good deal about that." + +"She is here, asleep." + +"Thank God." + +"Where is La Grange now?" + +"He's over at Frontenac. He got into trouble before we left La Famine. +He's drinking hard now, you know. He had command of a company that was +working on the stockades, and he made such a muss of it that his +sergeant had to take hold and handle it to get the work done at all. +You can imagine what bad feeling that made in his company. Played the +devil with his discipline. Well, he took it like a child. But that +night, when he got a little loose on his legs, he hunted up the +sergeant and made him fight. The fellow wouldn't until La Grange came +at him with his sword, but then he cracked his head with a musket." + +"Hurt him?" + +"Yes. They took him up to Frontenac. He's in the hospital now, but +it's pretty generally understood that d'Orvilliers won't let him go +out until the Governor gets back from Niagara. He's well enough +already, they say. It's hard on the sergeant, too; no one blames +him." + +Du Peron looked around and saw Teganouan lying near. + +"Who's this Indian?" he asked in a low tone. + +"He is with me. A mission Indian." + +"Does he know French? Has he understood us?" + +"I don't know. I suppose so. Here is Father Claude de Casson. You +remember him, don't you?" + +"Yes, indeed." + +The Lieutenant rose to greet the priest, and then the three sat +together. + +"You asked me about the fight, didn't you, Menard? I don't seem able +to hold to a subject very long to-night. We struck out from La Famine +on the morning of the twelfth of July. You know the trail that leads +south from La Famine? We followed that." + +Menard smiled at the leaping fire. + +"Don't laugh, Menard; that was no worse than what we've done from the +start. The Governor never thought but what we'd surprise them as +much on that road as on another. And after all, we won, though it did +look bad for a while. There was a time, at the beginning of the +fight,--well, I'm getting ahead of myself again. We were in fairly +good order. Callieres had the advance with the Montreal troops. He +threw out La Durantaye, with Tonty and Du Luth,--the _coureurs de +bois_, you know,--to feel the way. La Durantaye had the mission +Indians, from Sault St. Louis and the Montreal Mountain, on his left, +and the Ottawas and Mackinac tribes on his right." + +"How did the Ottawas behave?" + +"Wretchedly. They ran at the first fire. I'll come to that. The others +weren't so bad, but there was no holding them. They spread through the +forest, away out of reach. Perrot had the command, but he could only +follow after and knock one down now and then." + +"The Governor took command of the main force?" + +"Yes. And he carried his bale like the worst of us; I'll say that for +him. It was hot, and we all drooped a bit before night. And he made a +good fight, too, if you can forgive him that bungling march. When we +bivouacked, some of Du Luth's boys scouted ahead. They got in by +sunrise. They'd been to the main village of the Senecas on the hill +beyond the marsh,--you know it, don't you?" + +"Yes." + +"And they saw nothing but a few women and a pack of dogs. The Governor +was up early,--he's not used to sleeping out doors in the mosquito +country,--sitting on a log at the side of the trail, talking with +Granville and Berthier. I wasn't five yards behind them, trying to +scrape the mud off my boots--you know how that mud sticks, Menard. +Well, when the scouts came in with their story, the Governor stood up. +'Take my order to La Durantaye,' he said, 'that he is to move on with +all caution, that the surprise may be complete. He will push forward, +following the trail. You,' he said, to a few aides who stood by, 'will +see that the command is aroused as silently as possible.' Well, I +didn't know whether to laugh at the Governor or pity myself and the +boys. Any man but the crowd of seigniors that he had about him would +have foreseen what was coming. I knew that the devils were waiting for +us, probably at one of the ravines where the trail runs through that +group of hills just this side of the marsh. You know the place,--every +one of us knows it. But what could we say? I'd have given a month's +pay to have been within ear-shot of La Durantaye when he got the +order. La Valterie told me about it afterward. 'What's this?' he says, +'follow the trail? I'll go to the devil first. There's a better place +for my bones than this pest-ridden country.' He calls to Du Luth: +'Hear this, Du Luth. We're to "push forward, following the trail."' I +can fairly hear him say it, with his eyes looking right through the +young aide. 'Not I,' says Du Luth, 'I'm going around the hills and +come into the village over the long oak ridge!' 'You can't do it. I +have the Governor's order.' And then Du Luth drew himself up, La +Valterie says, and looked the aide (who wasn't used to this kind of a +soldier, and wished himself back under the Governor's petticoats) up +and down till the fellow got red as a Lower Town girl. 'Tell your +commanding officer,' says Du Luth, in his big voice, 'that the advance +will "push forward, following the trail,"--and may God have mercy on +our poor souls!' + +"Well, Menard, they did it, nine hundred of them. And we came on, a +quarter of a league after, with sixteen hundred more. We got into the +first defile, and through it, with never a sound. Then I was sure of +trouble in the second, but long after the advance had had time to get +through, everything was still. There was still the third defile, just +before you reach the marsh, and my head was spinning, waiting for the +first shot and wondering where we were to catch it and how many of us +were to get out alive. And then, all at once it came. You see the +Senecas, three hundred of them at least, were in the brush up on the +right slope of the third defile; and as many more were in the elder +thickets and swamp grass ahead and to the left. They let the whole +advance get through,--fooled every man of Du Luth's scouts,--and then +came at them from all sides. We heard the noise--I never heard a +worse--and started up on the run; and then there was the strangest +mess I ever got into. They had surprised the advance, right +enough,--we could see Du Luth and Tonty running about knocking men +down and bellowing out orders to hold their force together,--but you +see the Senecas never dreamed that a larger force was coming on +behind, and we struck them like a whirlwind. Well, for nearly an hour +we didn't know what was going on. Our Indians and the Senecas were so +mixed together that we dared not shoot to kill. Our own boys, even the +regulars, lost their heads and fell into the tangle. It was all +yelling and whooping and banging and running around, with the smoke so +thick that you couldn't find the trail or the hills or the swamp. I +was crowded up to my arms in water and mud for the last part of the +time. Once the smoke lifted a little, and I saw what I thought to be a +mission Indian, not five yards away, in the same fix. I called to him +to help me, and he turned out to be a Seneca chief. Our muskets were +wet,--at least mine was, and I saw that he dropped his when he started +for me,--so we had it out with knives." + +"Did he get at you?" + +"Once. A rib stopped it--no harm done. Well, I was tired, but I got +out and dodged around through the smoke to find out where our boys +were, but they were mixed up worse than ever. I was just in time to +save a _coureur_ from killing one of our Indians with his own hatchet. +Most of the regulars scattered as soon as they lost sight of their +officers. And Berthier,--I found him lying under a log all gone to +pieces with fright. + +"I didn't know how it was to come out until at last the firing eased a +little, and the smoke thinned out. Then we found that the devils had +slipped away, all but a few who had wandered so far into our lines--if +you could call them lines--that they couldn't get out. They carried +most of their killed, though we picked up a few on the edge of the +marsh. It took all the rest of the day to pull things together and +find out how we stood." + +"Heavy loss?" + +"No. I don't know how many, but beyond a hundred or so of cuts and +flesh-wounds like mine we seemed to have a full force. We went on in +the morning, after a puffed-out speech by the Governor, and before +night reached the village. The Senecas had already burned a part of +it, but we finished it, and spent close to ten days cutting their corn +and destroying the fort on the big hill, a league or more to the east. +Then we came back to La Famine, and the Governor took the whole column +to Niagara,--to complete the parade, I suppose." + +The story told, they sat by the fire, silent at first, then talking as +the mood prompted, until the flames had died and the red embers were +fading to gray. Father Claude had stretched out and was sleeping. + +"I must look about my camp," Du Peron said at length. "Good-night." + +"Good-night," said Menard; and alone he sat there until the last spark +had left the scattered heap of charred wood. + +The night was cold and clear. The lake stretched out to a misty +somewhere, touching the edge of the sky. He rose and walked toward the +water. A figure, muffled in a blanket stood on the dark, firm sand +close to the breaking ripples. He thought it was one of Du Peron's +sentries, but a doubt drew him nearer. Then the blanket was thrown +aside, and he recognized, in the moonlight, the slender figure of the +maid. She was gazing out toward the pole-star and the dim clouds that +lay motionless beneath it. The splash of the lake and the call of the +locusts and tree-toads on the bank behind them were the only sounds. +He went slowly forward and stood by her side. She looked up into his +eyes, then turned to the lake. She had dropped the blanket to the +sand, and he placed it again about her shoulders. + +"I am not cold," she said. + +"I am afraid, Mademoiselle. The air is chill." + +They stood for a long time without speaking, while the northern clouds +sank slowly beneath the horizon, their tops gleaming white in the +moonlight. Once a sharp command rang through the night, and muskets +rattled. + +"What is that?" she whispered, touching his arm. + +"They are changing the guard." + +"You will not need to watch to-night, M'sieu?" + +"No; not again. We shall have an escort to Frontenac." He paused; then +added in uncertain voice, "but perhaps--if Mademoiselle--" + +She looked up at him. He went on: + +"I will watch to-night, and to-morrow night, and once again--then +there will be no need: we shall be at Frontenac. Yes, I will watch; I +will myself keep guard, that Mademoiselle may sleep safely and deep, +as she slept at the Long Lake and in the forests of the Cayugas. And +perhaps, while she is sleeping, and the lake lies still, I may dream +again as I did then--I will carry on our story to the end, and +then--" + +He could not say more; he could not look at her. Even at the rustle of +her skirt, as she sank to the beach and sat gazing up at him, he did +not turn. He was looking dully at the last bright cloud tip, sinking +slowly from his sight. + +"Frontenac lies there," he said. "I told them I should bring you +there. It has been a longer road than we thought,--it has been a +harder road,--and they have said that I broke my trust. Perhaps they +were not wrong--I would have broken it--once. But we shall be there in +three days. I will keep my promise to the chiefs; and we--we shall not +meet again. It will be better. But I shall keep watch, to-night and +twice again. That will be all." + +He looked down, and at sight of the mute figure his face softened. + +"Forgive me--I should not have spoken. It has been a mad dream--the +waking is hard. When I saw you standing here to-night, I knew that I +had no right to come--and still I came. I have called myself a +soldier"--his voice was weary--"see, this is what is done to soldiers +such as I." One frayed strip of an epaulet yet hung from his shoulder. +He tore it off and threw it out into the lake. A little splash, and it +was gone. "Good-night, Mademoiselle,--good-night." + +He turned away. The maid leaned forward and called. Her voice would +not come. She called again and again. Then he heard, for he stood +motionless. + +"M'sieu!" + +He came back slowly, and stood waiting. She was leaning back on her +hands. Her hair had fallen over her face, and she shook it back, +gazing up and trying to speak. + +"You said--you said, the end--" + +He hesitated, as if he dared not meet his thoughts. + +"You said--See," she fumbled hastily at her bosom, "see, I have kept +it." + +She was holding something up to him. In the dim light he could not +make it out. He took it and held it up. It was the dried stem and the +crumbling blossom of a daisy. For a moment he kept it there, then, +while he looked, he reached into his pocket and drew out the other. + +"Yes," he said, "yes--" His voice trembled; his hand shook. Her hair +had fallen again, and she was trying to fasten it back. He looked at +her, almost fiercely, but now her eyes were hidden. "We will go to +Frontenac;" he said; "we will go to Frontenac, you and I. But they +shall not get you." He caught the hands that were braiding her hair, +and held them in his rough grip. "It is too late. Let them break my +sword, if they will, still they shall not get you." + +Her head dropped upon his hands, and for the second time since those +days at Onondaga, he felt her tears. For a moment they were +motionless; he erect, looking out to the pole-star and over the water +that stretched far away to the stone fort, she sobbing and clinging to +his scarred hands. Then a desperate look came into his eyes, and he +dropped on one knee and caught her shoulders and held her tightly, +close against him. + +"See," he said, with the old mad ring in his voice, "see what a +soldier I am! See how I keep my trust! But now--but now it is too late +for them all. I am still a soldier, and I can fight, Valerie. And God +will be good to us. God grant that we are doing right. There is no +other way." + +"No," she whispered after him; "there is no other way." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +FRONTENAC. + + +The sun was dropping behind the western forests. From the lodges and +cabins of the friendly Indians about the fort rose a hundred thin +columns of smoke. Long rows of bateaux and canoes lined the beach +below the log palisade; and others drew near the shore, laden with +fish. There was a stir and bustle about the square within the stone +bastions; orderlies hurried from quarters to barracks, bugles sounded, +and groups of ragged soldiers sat about, polishing muskets and belts, +and setting new flints. Men of the commissary department were carrying +boxes and bales from the fort to a cleared space on the beach. + +Menard walked across the square and knocked at the door of Major +d'Orvilliers's little house. Many an eye had followed him as he +hurried by, aroused to curiosity by his tattered uniform, rusted +musket, and boot-tops rudely stitched to deerskin moccasins. + +"Major d'Orvilliers is busy," said the orderly at the door. + +"Tell him it is Captain Menard." + +In a moment the Major himself appeared in the doorway. + +"Come in, Menard. I am to start in an hour or so to meet Governor +Denonville, but there is always time for you. I'll start a little +late, if necessary." + +"The Governor comes from Niagara?" + +"Yes. He is two or three days' journey up the lake. I am to escort him +back." + +They had reached the office in the rear of the house, and the Major +brushed a heap of documents and drawings from a chair. + +"Sit down, Menard. You have a long story, I take it. You look as if +you'd been to the Illinois and back." + +"You knew of my capture?" + +"Yes. We had about given you up. And the girl,--Mademoiselle St. +Denis--" + +"She is here." + +"Here--at Frontenac?" + +"Yes; in Father de Casson's care." + +"Thank God! But how did you do it? How did you get her here, and +yourself?" + +Menard rose and paced up and down the room. As he walked, he told the +story of the capture at La Gallette, of the days in the Onondaga +village, of the council and the escape. When he had finished, there +was a long silence, while the Major sat with contracted brows. + +"You've done a big thing, Menard," he said at last, "one of the +biggest things that has been done in New France. But have you thought +of the Governor--of how he will take it?" + +"Yes." + +"It may not be easy. Denonville doesn't know the Iroquois as you and I +do. He is elated now about his victory,--he thinks he has settled the +question of white supremacy. If I were to tell him to-morrow that he +has only made a bitter enemy of the Senecas, and that they will not +rest until they wipe out this defeat, do you suppose he would believe +it? You have given a pledge to the Iroquois that is entirely outside +of the Governor's view of military precedent. To tell the truth, +Menard, I don't believe he will like it." + +"Why not?" + +"He doesn't know the strength of the Five Nations. He thinks they +would all flee before our regulars just as the Senecas did. Worse than +that, he doesn't know the Indian temperament. I'm afraid you can't +make him understand that to satisfy their hunger for revenge will +serve better than a score of orations and treaties." + +"You think he won't touch La Grange?" + +"I am almost certain of it." + +"Then it rests with me." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I gave another pledge, d'Orvilliers. If the Governor won't do this--I +shall have to do it myself." + +Save for a moment's hesitation Menard's voice was cool and even; but +he had stopped walking and was looking closely at the commandant. + +D'Orvilliers was gazing at the floor. + +"What do you mean by that?" he said slowly, and then suddenly he got +up. "My God, Menard, you don't mean that you would--" + +"Yes." + +"That can't be! I can't allow it." + +"It may not be necessary. I hope you are mistaken about the +Governor." + +"I hope I am--but no; he won't help you. He's not in the mood for +paying debts to a weakened enemy. And--Menard, sit down. I must talk +plainly to you. I can't go on covering things up now. I don't believe +you see the matter clearly. If it were a plain question of your +mission to the Onondagas--if it were--Well, I want you to tell me in +what relation you stand to Mademoiselle St. Denis." + +The Captain was standing by the chair. He rested his arms on the high +back, and looked over them at d'Orvilliers. + +"She is to be my wife," he said. + +D'Orvilliers leaned back and slowly shook his head. + +"My dear fellow," he said, "when your story goes to Quebec, when the +Chateau learns that you have promised the punishment of La Grange in +the name of France, and then of this,--of Mademoiselle and her +relations to yourself and to La Grange,--do you know what they will +do?" + +Menard was silent. + +"They will laugh--first, and then--" + +"I know," said the Captain, "I have thought of all that." + +"You have told all this in your report?" + +"Yes." + +"So you would go on with it?" + +"Yes; I am going on with it. There is nothing else I can do. I +couldn't have offered to give myself up; they already had me. The +fault was La Grange's. What I did was the only thing that could have +been done to save the column; if you will think it over, you will see +that. I know what I did,--I know I was right; and if my superiors, +when I have given my report, choose to see it in another way, I have +nothing to say. If they give me my liberty, in the army or out of it, +I will find La Grange. If not, I will wait." + +"Why not give that up, at least, Menard?" + +"If I give that up, we shall have a war with the Iroquois that will +shake New France as she has never been shaken before." + +D'Orvilliers started to speak, but checked the words. Menard slung his +musket behind his shoulders. + +"Wait, Menard. I don't know what to say. I must have time to think. If +you wish, I will not give notice of your arrival to the Governor. I +will leave the matter of reporting in your hands." He rose, and +fingered the papers on the table. "You see how it will look--there is +the maid--La Grange seeks your life, you seek his--" + +Menard drew himself up, his hat in his hand. + +"It shall be pushed to the end, Major. You know me; you know Captain +la Grange. There will be excitement, perhaps,--you may find it hard to +avoid taking one side or the other. I must ask which side is to be +yours." + +D'Orvilliers winced, and for a moment stood biting his lip; then he +stepped forward and took both Menard's hands. + +"You shouldn't have asked that," he said. "God bless you, Menard! God +bless you!" + +Menard paused in the door, and turned. + +"Shall I need a pass to enter the hospital?" + +"Oh, you can't go there. La Grange is there." + +"Yes; I will report to him. He shall not say that I have left it to +hearsay." + +"But he will attack you!" + +"No; I will not fight him until I have an answer from the Governor." + +"You can't get in now until morning." + +"Very well, good-night." + +"You will be careful, Menard?" + +The Captain nodded and left the room. Wishing to settle his thoughts, +he passed through the palisade gate and walked down the beach. The +commissary men were loading the canoes, threescore of them, that were +to carry the garrison on its westward journey. Already the twilight +was deepening, and the lanterns of the officers were dimmed by the +glow from a hundred Indian camp-fires. + +From within the fort came a long bugle-call. There was a distant +rattling of arms and shouting of commands, then the tramp of feet, and +the indistinct line came swinging through the sally-port. They halted +at the water's edge, broke ranks, and took to the canoes, paddling +easily away along the shore until they had faded into shadows. A score +of Indians stood watching them, stolidly smoking stone pipes and +holding their blankets close around them. + +It was an hour later when the Captain returned to the fort and started +across the enclosure toward the hut which had been assigned to him. +Save for a few Indians and a sentry who paced before the barracks, the +fort seemed deserted. It was nearly dark now, and the lanterns at the +sally-port and in front of barrack and hospital glimmered faintly. +Menard had reached his own door, when he heard a voice calling, and +turned. A dim figure was running across the square toward the sentry. +There was a moment of breathless talk,--Menard could not catch the +words,--then the sentry shouted. It occurred to Menard that he was now +the senior officer at the fort, and he waited. A corporal led up his +guard, halted, and again there was hurried talking. Menard started +back toward them, but before he reached the spot all were running +toward the hospital, and a dozen others of the home guard had gathered +before the barracks and were talking and asking excited questions. + +Menard crossed to the hospital. Two privates barred the door, and he +was forced to wait until a young Lieutenant of the regulars appeared. +The lanterns over the door threw a dim light on the Captain as he +stood on the low step. + +"What is it?" asked the Lieutenant. "You wished to see me?" + +"I am Captain Menard. What is the trouble?" + +The Lieutenant looked doubtfully at the dingy, bearded figure, then he +motioned the soldiers aside. + +"It is Captain la Grange," he said, when Menard had entered; "he has +been killed." + +The Lieutenant spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, but his eyes were +shining and he was breathing rapidly. Menard looked at him for a +moment without a word, then he stepped to the door of a back room and +looked in. Three flickering candles stood on a low table, and another +on a chair at the head of the narrow bed. The light wavered over the +log and plaster walls. A surgeon was bending over the bed, his +assistant waiting at his elbow with instruments; the two shut off the +upper part of the bed from Menard's view. The Lieutenant stood behind +the Captain, looking over his shoulder; both were motionless. There +was no sound save a low word at intervals between the two surgeons, +and the creak of a bore-worm that sounded distinctly from a log in the +wall. + +Menard turned away and walked back to the outer door, the Lieutenant +with him. There they stood, silent, as men are who have been brought +suddenly face to face with death. At last the Lieutenant began to +speak in a subdued voice. + +"We only know that it was an Indian. He has been scalped." + +"Oh!" muttered Menard. + +"I think he is still breathing,--he was just before you came,--but +there is no hope for him. He was stabbed in a dozen places. It was +some time before we knew--the Indian came in by the window, and must +have found him asleep. There was no struggle." + +They stood again without speaking, and again the Lieutenant broke the +silence. + +"It is too bad. He was a good fellow." He paused, as if searching for +a kind word for Captain la Grange. "He was the best shot at the fort +when he--when--" + +"Yes," said Menard. He too wished to speak no harsh word. "Is there +anything I can do?" + +"I think not. There is a strong guard about the fort, but I think the +Indian had escaped before we learned of it. I will see you before we +take further steps." + +"Very well. I shall be at my quarters. Good-night." + +"Good-night." + +Menard walked slowly back across the enclosure. At the door of his hut +he paused, and for a long time he stood there, looking up at the quiet +sky. His mind was scattered for the moment; he could not think +clearly. + +He opened his door and stepped over the log threshold, letting the +door close after him of its own weight. The hut was dark, with but a +square of dim light at the window. He fumbled for the candle and +struck a light. + +There was a low rustle from the corner. Menard whirled around and +peered into the shadows. The candle was blowing; he caught it up and +shielded it with his hand. A figure was crouching in the corner, half +hidden behind a cloak that hung there. The Captain sprang forward +holding the candle high, tore down the cloak, and discovered +Teganouan, the Onondaga, bending over feeling for his hatchet which +lay on the floor at his feet. Menard caught his shoulders, and +dragging him out of reach of the hatchet, threw him full length on the +floor. The candle dropped and rolled on the floor, but before it could +go out, Menard snatched it up. + +Slowly Teganouan rose to his feet. + +"Teganouan comes in a strange manner to the lodge of the white +warrior," said Menard, scornfully. "He steals in like a Huron thief, +and hides in dark corners." + +The Indian looked at him defiantly, but did not answer. + +"My Onondaga brother does not wish to show himself in the light. +Perhaps there is some trouble on his mind. Perhaps he is governed by +an evil Oki who loves the darkness." While Menard was speaking he was +moving quietly toward the door. The Indian saw, but beyond turning +slowly so as always to face his captor, made no movement. His face, +except for the blazing eyes, was inscrutable. In a moment Menard stood +between him and the door. "Perhaps it is best that I should call for +the warriors of the fort. They will be glad to find here the slayer of +their brother." His hand was on the latch. + +"The Big Buffalo will not call to his brothers." The Indian's voice +was calm. Menard looked closely at him. "He has not thought yet. When +he has thought, he will understand." + +"Teganouan speaks like a child." + +"If Teganouan is a child, can the Big Buffalo tell why he came to the +white man's lodge?" + +"Because he has slain a great white warrior, he must hide his face +like the outcast dog." Menard pointed to the scalp that hung at his +waist. "He has slain a great warrior while the hatchet lies buried in +the ground. He has broken the law of the white man and the redman. And +so he must hide his face." + +"Why did not Teganouan run to the woods? Why did he come to the lodge +of the Big Buffalo?" + +Menard looked steadily at him. He began to understand. The shrewd old +warrior had chosen the one hiding-place where no searching party would +look. Perhaps he had hoped for aid from the Captain, remembering his +pledge to bring punishment on La Grange. If so, he should learn his +mistake. + +"Teganouan's words are idle." Menard moved the latch. + +"The Big Buffalo will not open the door. Teganouan has not delivered +his message. He is not an enemy to the Big Buffalo. He is his friend. +He has come to this lodge, caring nothing for the safety of his life, +that he might give his message. The Big Buffalo will not open the +door. He will wait to hear the words of Teganouan; and then he may +call to his brother warriors if he still thinks it would be wise." + +Menard waited. + +"Speak quickly, Teganouan." + +"Teganouan's words are like the wind. He has brought them many +leagues,--from the lodges of the Onondagas,--that he may speak them +now. He has brought them from the Long House of the Five Nations, +where the fires burn brightly by day and by night, where the greatest +chiefs of many thousand warriors are met to hear the Voice of the +Great Mountain, the father of white men and redmen. The Great Mountain +has a strong voice. It is louder than cannon; it wounds deeper than +the musket of the white brave. It tells the Onondagas and Cayugas and +Oneidas and Mohawks that they must not give aid to their brothers, the +Senecas, who have fallen, whose corn and forts and lodges are burned +to ashes and scattered on the winds. It tells the Onondagas that the +Great Mountain is a kind father, that he loves them like his own +children, and will punish the man who wrongs them, let him be white or +red. It tells the Onondagas that the white captain, who has robbed a +hundred Onondaga lodges of their bravest hunters, shall be struck by +the strong arm of the Great Mountain, shall be blown to pieces by the +Voice that thunders from the great water where the seal are found to +the farthest village of the Five Nations. And the chiefs hear the +Voice; they listen with ears that are always open to the counsel of +Onontio. They take his promises into their hearts and believe them. +They know that he will strike down the dog of a white captain. They +refuse aid to their dying brothers, the Senecas, because they know +that the strong arm of Onontio is over them, that it will give them +peace." + +He paused, gazing with bright eyes at Menard. There was no reply, and +he continued:-- + +"The Great Mountain has kept his word. The Onondagas shall know, in +their council, that Onontio's promise has been kept, that the white +brave, who lied to their hunters and sent them in chains across the +big water, has gone to a hunting-ground where his musket will not help +him, where the buffalo shall trample him and tear his flesh with their +horns. Then the Onondagas shall know that the Big Buffalo spoke the +truth to the Long House. And this word shall be carried to the +Onondagas by Teganouan. He will go to the council with the scalp in +his hand telling them that the white children of Onontio are their +brothers. Teganouan sees the Big Buffalo stand with his strong hand at +the door. He knows that the Big Buffalo could call his warriors to +seize Teganouan, and bind him, and bid him stand before the white +men's muskets. But Teganouan is not a child. He sees with the eye of +the old warrior who has fought a battle for every sun in the year, who +has known the white man as well as the redman. When the Big Buffalo +stood in the Long House, Teganouan believed him; Teganouan knew that +his words were true. And now the heart of Teganouan is warm with +trust. He knows that the Big Buffalo is a wise warrior and that he has +an honest heart." + +There was a pause, and Menard, his hand still on the latch, stood +motionless. He knew what the Indian meant. He had done no more than +Menard himself had promised the council, in the name of Governor +Denonville, should be done. The lodges of the allies near the fort +sheltered many an Iroquois spy; whatever might follow would be known +in every Iroquois village before the week had passed. To hold +Teganouan for trial would mean war. + +There was the tramp of feet on the beaten ground without, and a clear +voice said:-- + +"Wait a moment, I must report to Captain Menard." + +Menard raised the latch an inch, then looked sharply at Teganouan. The +Indian stood quietly, leaning a little forward, waiting for the +decision. The Captain was on the point of speaking, but no word came +from his parted lips. The voices were now just outside the door. With +a long breath Menard's fingers relaxed, and the latch slipped back +into place. Then he motioned toward the wall ladder that reached up +into the darkness of the loft. + +Teganouan turned, picked up the hatchet and thrust it into his belt, +took one quick glance about the room to make sure that no telltale +article remained, and slipped up the ladder. There was a loud knock on +the door, and Menard opened it. The Lieutenant came in. + +"We have no word yet, Captain," he said. "Every building in the fort +has been searched. I have so few men that I could not divide them +until this was done, but I am just now sending out searching parties +through the Indian village and the forest. None of the canoes are +missing. Have I your approval?" + +"Yes." + +"You--you have been here since you left the hospital?" + +"Yes." + +"I think, then, that he must have had time to slip out before we knew +of it. There are many Indians here who would help him; but a few of +them can be trusted, I think, to join the search. Major d'Orvilliers +left me with only a handful of men. It will be difficult to accomplish +much until he returns. I will post a sentry at the sally-port; we +shall have to leave the bastions without a guard. I think it will be +safe, for the time." + +"Very well, Lieutenant." + +The Lieutenant saluted and hurried away. Menard closed the door, and +turned to the table, where were scattered the sheets on which he had +been writing his report. He collected them and read the report +carefully. He removed one leaf, and rolling it up, lighted it at the +candle, and held it until it was burned to a cinder. Then he read the +other sheets again. The report now told of his capture, of a part of +the council at the Long House, and of the escape; but no word was +there concerning Captain la Grange. Another hand had disposed of that +question. Menard sighed as he laid it down, but soon the lines on his +face relaxed. It was not the first time in the history of New France +that a report had told but half the truth; and, after all, the column +had been saved. + +He sharpened a quill with his sheath-knife, and began to copy the +report, making further corrections here and there. Something more than +an hour had passed before the work was finished. He rolled up the +document and tied it with a thong of deerskin. + +It was still early in the evening, but the fort was as silent as at +midnight. Menard opened the door and walked out a little way. The +lamps were all burning, but no soldiers were to be seen. The barrack +windows were dark. He stepped back into the house, closed the door, +and said in a low voice:-- + +"Teganouan." + +There was a stir in the loft. In a moment the Indian came down the +ladder and stood waiting. + +"Teganouan, you heard what the Lieutenant said?" + +"Teganouan has ears." + +"Very well. I am going to blow out the candle." + +The room was dark. The door creaked softly, and a breath of air blew +in upon the Captain as he stood by the table. He felt over the table +for his tinder-box and struck a light. The door was slowly closing; +Teganouan had gone. + + * * * * * + +Another sun was setting. A single drum was beating loudly as the +little garrison drew up outside the sally-port and presented arms. The +allies and the mission Indians were crowding down upon the beach, +silent, inquisitive,--puffing at their short pipes. For half a +league, from the flat, white beach out over the rose-tinted water +stretched an irregular black line of canoes and bateaux, all +bristling with muskets. The Governor had come. He could be seen +kneeling, all sunburned and ragged but with erect head, in the first +canoe. His canoemen checked their swing, for the beach was close at +hand, and then backed water. The bow scraped, and a dozen hands were +outstretched in aid, but Governor Denonville stepped briskly out into +the ankle-deep water and carried his own pack ashore. A cheer went up +from the little line at the sally-port. Du Luth's _voyageurs_ and +_coureur de bois_ caught it up, and then it swept far out over the +water and was echoed back from the forest. + +In the doorway of a hut near the Recollet Chapel stood Menard and +Valerie. They watched canoe after canoe glide up and empty its load of +soldiers, not speaking as they watched, but thinking each the same +thought. At last, when the straggling line was pouring into the fort, +and the bugles were screaming, and the drum rolling, Valerie slipped +her hand through the Captain's arm and looked up into his face. + +"It was you who brought them here," she said; and then, after a pause, +she laughed a breathless little laugh. "It was you," she repeated. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROAD TO FRONTENAC*** + + +******* This file should be named 28958.txt or 28958.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/8/9/5/28958 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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