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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:39:15 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:39:15 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/12199-0.txt b/12199-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f5ae488 --- /dev/null +++ b/12199-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4973 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12199 *** + +THE CHASE OF SAINT-CASTIN + +AND OTHER STORIES OF + +THE FRENCH IN THE + +NEW WORLD + + + +BY + +MARY HARTWELL CATHERWOOD + +[Illustration] + +1894 + + + + +THE CHASE OF SAINT-CASTIN. + + +The waiting April woods, sensitive in every leafless twig to spring, +stood in silence and dim nightfall around a lodge. Wherever a human +dwelling is set in the wilderness, it becomes, by the very humility of +its proportions, a prominent and aggressive point. But this lodge +of bark and poles was the color of the woods, and nearly escaped +intruding as man's work. A glow lighted the top, revealing the faint +azure of smoke which rose straight upward in the cool, clear air. + +Such a habitation usually resounded at nightfall with Indian noises, +especially if the day's hunting had been good. The mossy rocks lying +around, were not more silent than the inmates of this lodge. You could +hear the Penobscot River foaming along its uneasy bed half a mile +eastward. The poles showed freshly cut disks of yellow at the top; and +though the bark coverings were such movables as any Indian household +carried, they were newly fastened to their present support. This was +plainly the night encampment of a traveling party, and two French +hunters and their attendant Abenaquis recognized that, as it barred +their trail to the river. An odor of roasted meat was wafted out like +an invitation to them. + +"Excellent, Saint-Castin," pronounced the older Frenchman. "Here +is another of your wilderness surprises. No wonder you prefer an +enchanted land to the rough mountains around Béarn. I shall never go +back to France myself." + +"Stop, La Hontan!" The young man restrained his guest from plunging +into the wigwam with a headlong gesture recently learned and practiced +with delight. "I never saw this lodge before." + +"Did you not have it set up here for the night?" + +"No; it is not mine. Our Abenaquis are going to build one for us +nearer the river." + +"I stay here," observed La Hontan. "Supper is ready, and adventures +are in the air." + +"But this is not a hunter's lodge. You see that our very dogs +understand they have no business here. Come on." + +"Come on, without seeing who is hid herein? No. I begin to think it is +something thou wouldst conceal from me. I go in; and if it be a bear +trap, I cheerfully perish." + +The young Frenchman stood resting the end of his gun on sodden leaves. +He felt vexed at La Hontan. But that inquisitive nobleman stooped +to lift the tent flap, and the young man turned toward his waiting +Indians and talked a moment in Abenaqui, when they went on in the +direction of the river, carrying game and camp luggage. They thought, +as he did, that this might be a lodge with which no man ought to +meddle. The daughter of Madockawando, the chief, was known to be +coming from her winter retreat. Every Abenaqui in the tribe stood +in awe of the maid. She did not rule them as a wise woman, but lived +apart from them as a superior spirit. + +Baron La Hontan, on all fours, intruded his gay face on the inmates of +the lodge. There were three of them. His palms encountered a carpet +of hemlock twigs, which spread around a central fire to the circular +wall, and was made sweetly odorous by the heat. A thick couch of the +twigs was piled up beyond the fire, and there sat an Abenaqui girl in +her winter dress of furs. She was so white-skinned that she startled +La Hontan as an apparition of Europe. He got but one black-eyed +glance. She drew her blanket over her head. The group had doubtless +heard the conference outside, but ignored it with reticent gravity. +The hunter of the lodge was on his heels by the embers, toasting +collops of meat for the blanketed princess; and an Etchemin woman, the +other inmate, took one from his hand, and paused, while dressing it +with salt, to gaze at the Frenchman. + +La Hontan had not found himself distasteful to northwestern Indian +girls. It was the first time an aboriginal face had ever covered +itself from exposure to his eyes. He felt the sudden respect which +nuns command, even in those who scoff at their visible consecration. +The usual announcement made on entering a cabin--"I come to see this +man," or "I come to see that woman,"--he saw was to be omitted in +addressing this strangely civilized Indian girl. + +"Mademoiselle," said Baron La Hontan in very French Abenaqui, rising +to one knee, and sweeping the twigs with the brim of his hat as he +pulled it off, "the Baron de Saint-Castin of Pentegoet, the friend of +your chief Madockawando, is at your lodge door, tired and chilled from +a long hunt. Can you not permit him to warm at your fire?" + +The Abenaqui girl bowed her covered head. Her woman companion passed +the permission on, and the hunter made it audible by a grunt of +assent. La Hontan backed nimbly out, and seized the waiting man by the +leg. The main portion of the baron was in the darkening April woods, +but his perpendicular soles stood behind the flap within the lodge. + +"Enter, my child," he whispered in excitement. "A warm fire, +hot collops, a black eye to be coaxed out of a blanket, and full +permission given to enjoy all. What, man! Out of countenance at +thought of facing a pretty squaw, when you have three keeping house +with you at the fort?" + +"Come out, La Hontan," whispered back Saint-Castin, on his part +grasping the elder's arm. "It is Madockawando's daughter." + +"The red nun thou hast told me about? The saints be praised! But art +thou sure?" + +"How can I be sure? I have never seen her myself. But I judge from her +avoiding your impudent eye. She does not like to be looked at." + +"It was my mentioning the name of Saint-Castin of Pentegoet that +made her whip her head under the blanket. I see, if I am to keep my +reputation in the woods, I shall have to withdraw from your company." + +"Withdraw your heels from this lodge," replied Saint-Castin +impatiently. "You will embroil me with the tribe." + +"Why should it embroil you with the tribe," argued the merry sitter, +"if we warm our heels decently at this ready fire until the Indians +light our own? Any Christian, white or red, would grant us that +privilege." + +"If I enter with you, will you come out with me as soon as I make you +a sign?" + +"Doubt it not," said La Hontan, and he eclipsed himself directly. + +Though Saint-Castin had been more than a year in Acadia, this was the +first time he had ever seen Madockawando's daughter. He knew it was +that elusive being, on her way from her winter retreat to the tribe's +summer fishing station near the coast. Father Petit, the priest of +this woodland parish, spoke of her as one who might in time found a +house of holy women amidst the license of the wilderness. + +Saint-Castin wanted to ask her pardon for entering; but he sat without +a sound. Some power went out from that silent shape far stronger than +the hinted beauty of girlish ankle and arm. The glow of brands lighted +the lodge, showing the bark seams on its poles. Pale smoke and the +pulse of heat quivered betwixt him and a presence which, by some swift +contrast, made his face burn at the recollection of his household +at Pentegoet. He had seen many good women in his life, with the +patronizing tolerance which men bestow on unpiquant things that are +harmless; and he did not understand why her hiding should stab him +like a reproach. She hid from all common eyes. But his were not common +eyes. Saint-Castin felt impatient at getting no recognition from a +girl, saint though she might be, whose tribe he had actually adopted. + +The blunt-faced Etchemin woman, once a prisoner brought from northern +Acadia, now the companion of Madockawando's daughter, knew her duty to +the strangers, and gave them food as rapidly as the hunter could broil +it. The hunter was a big-legged, small-headed Abenaqui, with knees +over-topping his tuft of hair when he squatted on his heels. He looked +like a man whose emaciated trunk and arms had been taken possession of +by colossal legs and feet. This singular deformity made him the best +hunter in his tribe. He tracked game with a sweep of great beams as +tireless as the tread of a modern steamer. The little sense in his +head was woodcraft. He thought of nothing but taking and dressing +game. + +Saint-Castin barely tasted the offered meat; but La Hontan enjoyed it +unabashed, warming himself while he ate, and avoiding any chance of a +hint from his friend that the meal should be cut short. + +"My child," he said in lame Abenaqui to the Etchemin woman, while his +sly regard dwelt on the blanket-robed statue opposite, "I wish you the +best of gifts, a good husband." + +The Etchemin woman heard him in such silence as one perhaps brings +from making a long religious retreat, and forbore to explain that +she already had the best of gifts, and was the wife of the big-legged +hunter. + +"I myself had an aunt who, never married," warned La Hontan. "She +was an excellent woman, but she turned like fruit withered in the +ripening. The fantastic airs of her girlhood clung to her. She was at +a disadvantage among the married, and young people passed her by as +an experiment that had failed. So she was driven to be very religious; +but prayers are cold comfort for the want of a bouncing family." + +If the Etchemin woman had absorbed from her mistress a habit of +meditation which shut out the world, Saint-Castin had not. He gave La +Hontan the sign to move before him out of the lodge, and no choice +but to obey it, crowding the reluctant and comfortable man into +undignified attitudes. La Hontan saw that he had taken offense. There +was no accounting for the humors of those disbanded soldiers of the +Carignan-Salières, though Saint-Castin was usually a gentle fellow. +They spread out their sensitive military honor over every inch of +their new seigniories; and if you chucked the wrong little Indian or +habitant's naked baby under the chin, you might unconsciously stir +up war in the mind of your host. La Hontan was glad he was directly +leaving Acadia. He was fond of Saint-Castin. Few people could approach +that young man without feeling the charm which made the Indians adore +him. But any one who establishes himself in the woods loses touch with +the light manners of civilization; his very vices take on an air of +brutal candor. + +Next evening, however, both men were merry by the hall fire at +Pentegoet over their parting cup. La Hontan was returning to Quebec. +A vessel waited the tide at the Penobscot's mouth, a bay which the +Indians call "bad harbor." + +The long, low, and irregular building which Saint-Castin had +constructed as his baronial seat was as snug as the governor's castle +at Quebec. It was only one story high, and the small square +windows were set under the eaves, so outsiders could not look in. +Saint-Castin's enemies said he built thus to hide his deeds; but +Father Petit himself could see how excellent a plan it was for +defense. A holding already claimed by the encroaching English needed +loop-holes, not windows. The fort surrounding the house was also well +adapted to its situation. Twelve cannon guarded the bastions. All the +necessary buildings, besides a chapel with a bell, were within the +walls, and a deep well insured a supply of water. A garden and fruit +orchard were laid out opposite the fort, and encompassed by palisades. + +The luxury of the house consisted in an abundant use of crude, +unpolished material. Though built grotesquely of stone and wood +intermingled, it had the solid dignity of that rugged coast. A chimney +spacious as a crater let smoke and white ashes upward, and sections of +trees smouldered on Saint-Castin's hearth. An Indian girl, ruddy from +high living, and wearing the brightest stuffs imported from France, +sat on the floor at the hearth corner. This was the usual night scene +at Pentegoet. Candle and firelight shone on her, on oak timbers, and +settles made of unpeeled balsam, on plate and glasses which always +heaped a table with ready food and drink, on moose horns and gun +racks, on stores of books, on festoons of wampum, and usually on a +dozen figures beside Saint-Castin. The other rooms in the house were +mere tributaries to this baronial presence chamber. Madockawando and +the dignitaries of the Abenaqui tribe made it their council hall, the +white sagamore presiding. They were superior to rude western nations. +It was Saint-Castin's plan to make a strong principality here, and to +unite his people in a compact state. He lavished his inherited money +upon them. Whatever they wanted from Saint-Castin they got, as from a +father. On their part, they poured the wealth of the woods upon him. +Not a beaver skin went out of Acadia except through his hands. The +traders of New France grumbled at his profits and monopoly, and the +English of New England claimed his seigniory. He stood on debatable +ground, in dangerous times, trying to mould an independent nation. +The Abenaquis did not know that a king of France had been reared +on Saint-Castin's native mountains, but they believed that a human +divinity had. + +Their permanent settlement was about the fort, on land he had paid +for, but held in common with them. They went to their winter's hunting +or their summer's fishing from Pentegoet. It was the seat of power. +The cannon protected fields and a town of lodges which Saint-Castin +meant to convert into a town of stone and hewed wood houses as soon as +the aboriginal nature conformed itself to such stability. Even now +the village had left home and gone into the woods again. The Abenaqui +women were busy there, inserting tubes of bark in pierced maple-trees, +and troughs caught the flow of ascending sap. Kettles boiled over +fires in the bald spaces, incense of the forest's very heart rising +from them and sweetening the air. All day Indian children raced from +one mother's fire to another, or dipped unforbidden cups of hands into +the brimming troughs; and at night they lay down among the dogs, with +their heels to the blaze, watching these lower constellations blink +through the woods until their eyes swam into unconsciousness. It was +good weather for making maple sugar. In the mornings hoar frost +or light snows silvered the world, disappearing as soon as the sun +touched them, when the bark of every tree leaked moisture. This was +festive labor compared with planting the fields, and drew the men, +also. + +The morning after La Hontan sailed, Saint-Castin went out and skirted +this wide-spread sugar industry like a spy. The year before, he had +moved heartily from fire to fire, hailed and entertained by every red +manufacturer. The unrest of spring was upon him. He had brought many +conveniences among the Abenaquis, and taught them some civilized arts. +They were his adopted people. But he felt a sudden separateness from +them, like the loneliness of his early boyhood. + +Saint-Castin was a good hunter. He had more than once watched a slim +young doe stand gazing curiously at him, and had not startled it by a +breath. Therefore he was able to become a stump behind the tree which +Madockawando's daughter sought with her sap pail. Usually he wore +buckskins, in the free and easy life of Pentegoet. But he had put on +his Carignan-Salières uniform, filling its boyish outlines with his +full man's figure. He would not on any account have had La Hontan see +him thus gathering the light of the open woods on military finery. +He felt ashamed of returning to it, and could not account for his +own impulses; and when he saw Madockawando's daughter walking +unconsciously toward him as toward a trap, he drew his bright surfaces +entirely behind the column of the tree. + +She had taken no part in this festival of labor for several years. She +moved among the women still in solitude, not one of them feeling at +liberty to draw near her except as she encouraged them. The Abenaquis +were not a polygamous tribe, but they enjoyed the freedom of the +woods. Squaws who had made several experimental marriages since +this young celibate began her course naturally felt rebuked by her +standards, and preferred stirring kettles to meeting her. It was not +so long since the princess had been a hoiden among them, abounding +in the life which rushes to extravagant action. Her juvenile whoops +scared the birds. She rode astride of saplings, and played pranks +on solemn old warriors and the medicine-man. Her body grew into +suppleness and beauty. As for her spirit, the women of the tribe knew +very little about it. They saw none of her struggles. In childhood +she was ashamed of the finer nature whose wants found no answer in +her world. It was anguish to look into the faces of her kindred and +friends as into the faces of hounds who live, it is true, but a lower +life, made up of chasing and eating. She wondered why she was created +different from them. A loyalty of race constrained her sometimes to +imitate them; but it was imitation; she could not be a savage. Then +Father Petit came, preceding Saint-Castin, and set up his altar and +built his chapel. The Abenaqui girl was converted as soon as she +looked in at the door and saw the gracious image of Mary lifted up to +be her pattern of womanhood. Those silent and terrible days, when she +lost interest in the bustle of living, and felt an awful homesickness +for some unknown good, passed entirely away. Religion opened an +invisible world. She sprang toward it, lying on the wings of her +spirit and gazing forever above. The minutest observances of the +Church were learned with an exactness which delighted a priest who had +not too many encouragements. Finally, she begged her father to let +her make a winter retreat to some place near the headwaters of the +Penobscot. When the hunters were abroad, it did them no harm to +remember there was a maid in a wilderness cloister praying for the +good of her people; and when they were fortunate, they believed in the +material advantage of her prayers. Nobody thought of searching out her +hidden cell, or of asking the big-legged hunter and his wife to tell +its mysteries. The dealer with invisible spirits commanded respect in +Indian minds before the priest came. + +Madockawando's daughter was of a lighter color than most of her tribe, +and finer in her proportions, though they were a well-made people. She +was the highest expression of unadulterated Abenaqui blood. She set +her sap pail down by the trough, and Saint-Castin shifted silently to +watch her while she dipped the juice. Her eyelids were lowered. She +had well-marked brows, and the high cheek-bones were lost in a general +acquiline rosiness. It was a girl's face, modest and sweet, that he +saw; reflecting the society of holier beings than the one behind the +tree. She had no blemish of sunken temples or shrunk features, or the +glaring aspect of a devotee. Saint-Castin was a good Catholic, but he +did not like fanatics. It was as if the choicest tree in the forest +had been flung open, and a perfect woman had stepped out, whom no +other man's eye had seen. Her throat was round, and at the base of it, +in the little hollow where women love to nestle ornaments, hung the +cross of her rosary, which she wore twisted about her neck. The +beads were large and white, and the cross was ivory. Father Petit had +furnished them, blessed for their purpose, to his incipient abbess, +but Saint-Castin noticed how they set off the dark rosiness of her +skin. The collar of her fur dress was pushed back, for the day was +warm, like an autumn day when there is no wind. A luminous smoke which +magnified the light hung between treetops and zenith. The nakedness of +the swelling forest let heaven come strangely close to the ground. It +was like standing on a mountain plateau in a gray dazzle of clouds. + +Madockawando's daughter dipped her pail full of the clear water. The +appreciative motion of her eyelashes and the placid lines of her face +told how she enjoyed the limpid plaything. But Saint-Castin understood +well that she had not come out to boil sap entirely for the love of +it. Father Petit believed the time was ripe for her ministry to the +Abenaqui women. He had intimated to the seignior what land might be +convenient for the location of a convent. The community was now to +be drawn around her. Other girls must take vows when she did. Some +half-covered children, who stalked her wherever she went, stood like +terra-cotta images at a distance and waited for her next movement. + +The girl had just finished her dipping when she looked up and met the +steady gaze of Saint-Castin. He was in an anguish of dread that she +would run. But her startled eyes held his image while three changes +passed over her,--terror and recognition and disapproval. He stepped +more into view, a white-and-gold apparition, which scattered the +Abenaqui children to their mothers' camp-fires. + +"I am Saint-Castin," he said. + +"Yes, I have many times seen you, sagamore." + +Her voice, shaken a little by her heart, was modulated to such +softness that the liquid gutturals gave him a distinct new pleasure. + +"I want to ask your pardon for my friend's rudeness, when you warmed +and fed us in your lodge." + +"I did not listen to him." Her fingers sought the cross on her +neck. She seemed to threaten a prayer which might stop her ears to +Saint-Castin. + +"He meant no discourtesy. If you knew his good heart, you would like +him." + +"I do not like men." She made a calm statement of her peculiar tastes. + +"Why?" inquired Saint-Castin. + +Madockawando's daughter summoned her reasons from distant vistas of +the woods, with meditative dark eyes. Evidently her dislike of men had +no element of fear or of sentimental avoidance. + +"I cannot like them," she apologized, declining to set forth her +reasons. "I wish they would always stay away from me." + +"Your father and the priest are men." + +"I know it," admitted the girl, with a deep breath like commiseration. +"They cannot help it; and our Etchemin's husband, who keeps the lodge +supplied with meat, he cannot help it, either, any more than he can +his deformity. But there is grace for men," she added. "They may, +by repenting of their sins and living holy lives, finally save their +souls." + +Saint-Castin repented of his sins that moment, and tried to look +contrite. + +"In some of my books," he said, "I read of an old belief held by +people on the other side of the earth. They thought our souls were +born into the world a great many times, now in this body, and now in +that. I feel as if you and I had been friends in some other state." + +The girl's face seemed to flare toward him as flame is blown, +acknowledging the claim he made upon her; but the look passed like an +illusion, and she said seriously, "The sagamore should speak to Father +Petit. This is heresy." + +Madockawando's daughter stood up, and took her pail by the handle. + +"Let me carry it," said Saint-Castin. + +Her lifted palm barred his approach. + +"I do not like men, sagamore. I wish them to keep away from me." + +"But that is not Christian," he argued. + +"It cannot be unchristian: the priest would lay me under penance for +it." + +"Father Petit is a lenient soul." + +With the simplicity of an angel who would not be longer hindered by +mundane society, she took up her pail, saying, "Good-day, sagamore," +and swept on across the dead leaves. + +Saint-Castin walked after her. + +"Go back," commanded Madockawando's daughter, turning. + +The officer of the Carignan-Salières regiment halted, but did not +retreat. + +"You must not follow me, sagamore," she remonstrated, as with a child. +"I cannot talk to you." + +"You must let me talk to you," said Saint-Castin. "I want you for my +wife." + +She looked at him in a way that made his face scorch. He remembered +the year wife, the half-year wife, and the two-months wife at +Pentegoet. These three squaws whom he had allowed to form his +household, and had taught to boil the pot au feu, came to him from +many previous experimental marriages. They were externals of his life, +much as hounds, boats, or guns. He could give them all rich dowers, +and divorce them easily any day to a succeeding line of legal Abenaqui +husbands. The lax code of the wilderness was irresistible to a +Frenchman; but he was near enough in age and in texture of soul +to this noble pagan to see at once, with her eyesight, how he had +degraded the very vices of her people. + +"Before the sun goes down," vowed Saint-Castin, "there shall be nobody +in my house but the two Etchemin slave men that your father gave me." + +The girl heard of his promised reformation without any kindling of the +spirit. + +"I am not for a wife," she answered him, and walked on with the pail. + +Again Saint-Castin followed her, and took the sap pail from her hand. +He set it aside on the leaves, and folded his arms. The blood came +and went in his face. He was not used to pleading with women. They +belonged to him easily, like his natural advantages over barbarians +in a new world. The slopes of the Pyrenees bred strong-limbed men, +cautious in policy, striking and bold in figure and countenance. The +English themselves have borne witness to his fascinations. Manhood had +darkened only the surface of his skin, a milk-white cleanness breaking +through it like the outflushing of some inner purity. His eyes and +hair had a golden beauty. It would have been strange if he had not +roused at least a degree of comradeship in the aboriginal woman living +up to her highest aspirations. + +"I love you. I have thought of you, of nobody but you, even when I +behaved the worst. You have kept yourself hid from me, while I have +been thinking about you ever since I came to Acadia. You are the woman +I want to marry." + +Madockawando's daughter shook her head. She had patience with his +fantastic persistence, but it annoyed her. + +"I am not for a wife," she repeated. "I do not like men." + +"Is it that you do not like me?" + +"No," she answered sincerely, probing her mind for the truth. "You +yourself are different from our Abenaqui men." + +"Then why do you make me unhappy?" + +"I do not make you unhappy. I do not even think of you." + +Again she took to her hurried course, forgetting the pail of sap. +Saint-Castin seized it, and once more followed her. + +"I beg that you will kiss me," he pleaded, trembling. + +The Abenaqui girl laughed aloud. + +"Does the sagamore think he is an object of veneration, that I should +kiss him?" + +"But will you not at least touch your lips to my forehead?" + +"No. I touch my lips to holy things." + +"You do not understand the feeling I have." + +"No, I do not understand it. If you talked every day, it would do no +good. My thoughts are different." + +Saint-Castin gave her the pail, and looked her in the eyes. + +"Perhaps you will some time understand," he said. "I lived many wild +years before I did." + +She was so glad to leave him behind that her escape was like a +backward blow, and he did not make enough allowance for the natural +antagonism of a young girl. Her beautiful free motion was something to +watch. She was a convert whose penances were usually worked out afoot, +for Father Petit knew better than to shut her up. + +Saint-Castin had never dreamed there were such women. She was like a +nymph out of a tree, without human responsiveness, yet with round arms +and waist and rosy column of neck, made to be helplessly adored. He +remembered the lonesome moods of his early youth. They must have been +a premonition of his fate in falling completely under the spell of an +unloving woman. + +Saint-Castin took a roundabout course, and went to Madockawando's +lodge, near the fort. All the members of the family, except the old +chief, were away at the sugar-making. The great Abenaqui's dignity +would not allow him to drag in fuel to the fire, so he squatted +nursing the ashes, and raked out a coal to light tobacco for himself +and Saint-Castin. The white sagamore had never before come in full +uniform to a private talk, and it was necessary to smoke half an hour +before a word could be said. + +There was a difference between the chatter of civilized men and the +deliberations of barbarians. With La Hontan, the Baron de Saint-Castin +would have led up to his business by a long prelude on other subjects. +With Madockawando, he waited until the tobacco had mellowed both their +spirits, and then said,-- + +"Father, I want to marry your daughter in the French way, with priest +and contract, and make her the Baroness de Saint-Castin." + +Madockawando, on his part, smoked the matter fairly out. He put an arm +on the sagamore's shoulder, and lamented the extreme devotion of his +daughter. It was a good religion which the black-robed father had +brought among the Abenaquis, but who had ever heard of a woman's +refusing to look at men before that religion came? His own child, when +she was at home with the tribe, lived as separate from the family and +as independently as a war-chief. In his time, the women dressed game +and carried the children and drew sledges. What would happen if his +daughter began to teach them, in a house by themselves, to do nothing +but pray? Madockawando repeated that his son, the sagamore, and +his father, the priest, had a good religion, but they might see for +themselves what the Abenaqui tribe would come to when the women all +set up for medicine squaws. Then there was his daughter's hiding in +winter to make what she called her retreats, and her proposing to take +a new name from some of the priest's okies or saint-spirits, and to be +called "Sister." + +"I will never call my own child 'Sister,'" vowed Madockawando. "I +could be a better Christian myself, if Father Petit had not put spells +on her." + +The two conspirators against Father Petit's proposed nunnery felt +grave and wicked, but they encouraged one another in iniquity. +Madockawando smiled in bronze wrinkles when Saint-Castin told him +about the proposal in the woods. The proper time for courtship was +evening, as any Frenchman who had lived a year with the tribe ought to +know; but when one considered the task he had undertaken, any time +was suitable; and the chief encouraged him with full consent. A French +marriage contract was no better than an Abenaqui marriage contract in +Madockawando's eyes; but if Saint-Castin could bind up his daughter +for good, he would be glad of it. + +The chapel of saplings and bark which first sheltered Father Petit's +altar had been abandoned when Saint-Castin built a substantial one +of stone and timber within the fortress walls, and hung in its little +tower a bell, which the most reluctant Abenaqui must hear at mass +time. But as it is well to cherish the sacred regard which man has for +any spot where he has worshiped, the priest left a picture hanging on +the wall above the bare chancel, and he kept the door repaired on its +wooden hinges. The chapel stood beyond the forest, east of Pentegoet, +and close to those battlements which form the coast line here. The +tide made thunder as it rose among caverns and frothed almost at the +verge of the heights. From this headland Mount Desert could be seen, +leading the host of islands which go out into the Atlantic, ethereal +in fog or lurid in the glare of sunset. + +Madockawando's daughter tended the old chapel in summer, for she had +first seen religion through its door. She wound the homely chancel +rail with evergreens, and put leaves and red berries on the walls, and +flowers under the sacred picture; her Etchemin woman always keeping +her company. Father Petit hoped to see this rough shrine become a +religious seminary, and strings of women led there every day to take, +like contagion, from an abbess the instruction they took so slowly +from a priest. + +She and the Etchemin found it a dismal place, on their first visit +after the winter retreat. She reproached herself for coming so late; +but day and night an influence now encompassed Madockawando's daughter +which she felt as a restraint on her freedom. A voice singing softly +the love-songs of southern France often waked her from her sleep. The +words she could not interpret, but the tone the whole village could, +and she blushed, crowding paters on aves, until her voice sometimes +became as distinct as Saint-Castin's in resolute opposition. It was so +grotesque that it made her laugh. Yet to a woman the most formidable +quality in a suitor is determination. + +When the three girls who had constituted Saint-Castin's household +at the fort passed complacently back to their own homes laden with +riches, Madockawando's daughter was unreasonably angry, and felt their +loss as they were incapable of feeling it for themselves. She was +alien to the customs of her people. The fact pressed upon her that her +people were completely bound to the white sagamore and all his deeds. +Saint-Castin's sins had been open to the tribe, and his repentance was +just as open. Father Petit praised him. + +"My son Jean Vincent de l'Abadie, Baron de Saint-Castin, has need of +spiritual aid to sustain him in the paths of virtue," said the priest +impressively, "and he is seeking it." + +At every church service the lax sinner was now on his knees in plain +sight of the devotee; but she never looked at him. All the tribe soon +knew what he had at heart, and it was told from camp-fire to camp-fire +how he sat silent every night in the hall at Pentegoet, with his hair +ruffled on his forehead, growing more haggard from day to day. + +The Abenaqui girl did not talk with other women about what happened in +the community. Dead saints crowded her mind to the exclusion of living +sinners. All that she heard came by way of her companion, the stolid +Etchemin, and when it was unprofitable talk it was silenced. They +labored together all the chill April afternoon, bringing the chapel +out of its winter desolation. The Etchemin made brooms of hemlock, and +brushed down cobwebs and dust, and laboriously swept the rocky earthen +floor, while the princess, standing upon a scaffold of split log +benches, wiped the sacred picture and set a border of tender moss +around it. It was a gaudy red print representing a pierced heart. +The Indian girl kissed every sanguinary drop which dribbled down the +coarse paper. Fog and salt air had given it a musty odor, and stained +the edges with mildew. She found it no small labor to cover these +stains, and pin the moss securely in place with thorns. + +There were no windows in this chapel. A platform of hewed slabs had +supported the altar; and when the princess came down, and the benches +were replaced, she lifted one of these slabs, as she had often done +before, to look into the earthen-floored box which they made. Little +animals did not take refuge in the wind-beaten building. She often +wondered that it stood; though the light materials used by aboriginal +tribes, when anchored to the earth as this house was, toughly resisted +wind and weather. + +The Etchemin sat down on the ground, and her mistress on the platform +behind the chancel rail, when everything else was done, to make a +fresh rope of evergreen. The climbing and reaching and lifting had +heated their faces, and the cool salt air flowed in, refreshing +them. Their hands were pricked by the spiny foliage, but they labored +without complaint, in unbroken meditation. A monotonous low singing +of the Etchemin's kept company with the breathing of the sea. This +decking of the chapel acted like music on the Abenaqui girl. She +wanted to be quiet, to enjoy it. + +By the time they were ready to shut the door for the night the splash +of a rising tide could be heard. Fog obliterated the islands, and a +bleak gray twilight, like the twilights of winter, began to dim the +woods. + +"The sagamore has made a new law," said the Etchemin woman, as they +came in sight of the fort. + +Madockawando's daughter looked at the unguarded bastions, and the +chimneys of Pentegoet rising in a stack above the walls. + +"What new law has the sagamore made?" she inquired. + +"He says he will no more allow a man to put away his first and true +wife, for he is convinced that God does not love inconstancy in men." + +"The sagamore should have kept his first wife himself." + +"But he says he has not yet had her," answered the Etchemin woman, +glancing aside at the princess. "The sagamore will not see the end of +the sugar-making to-night." + +"Because he sits alone every night by his fire," said Madockawando's +daughter; "there is too much talk about the sagamore. It is the end of +the sugar-making that your mind is set on." + +"My husband is at the camps," said the Etchemin plaintively. "Besides, +I am very tired." + +"Rest yourself, therefore, by tramping far to wait on your husband +and keep his hands filled with warm sugar. I am tired, and I go to my +lodge." + +"But there is a feast in the camps, and nobody has thought of putting +a kettle on in the village. I will first get your meat ready." + +"No, I intend to observe a fast to-night. Go on to the camps, and +serve my family there." + +The Etchemin looked toward the darkening bay, and around them at those +thickening hosts of invisible terrors which are yet dreaded by more +enlightened minds than hers. + +"No," responded the princess, "I am not afraid. Go on to the camps +while you have the courage to be abroad alone." + +The Etchemin woman set off at a trot, her heavy body shaking, and +distance soon swallowed her. Madockawando's daughter stood still in +the humid dimness before turning aside to her lodge. Perhaps the ruddy +light which showed through the open fortress gate from the hall of +Pentegoet gave her a feeling of security. She knew a man was there; +and there was not a man anywhere else within half a league. It was the +last great night of sugar-making. Not even an Abenaqui woman or child +remained around the fort. Father Petit himself was at the camps to +restrain riot. It would be a hard patrol for him, moving from fire to +fire half the night. The master of Pentegoet rested very carelessly in +his hold. It was hardly a day's sail westward to the English post of +Pemaquid. Saint-Castin had really made ready for his people's spring +sowing and fishing with some anxiety for their undisturbed peace. +Pemaquid aggressed on him, and he seriously thought of fitting out a +ship and burning Pemaquid. In that time, as in this, the strong hand +upheld its own rights at any cost. + +The Abenaqui girl stood under the north-west bastion, letting +early night make its impressions on her. Her motionless figure, +in indistinct garments, could not be seen from the river; but she +discerned, rising up the path from the water, one behind the other, a +row of peaked hats. Beside the hats appeared gunstocks. She had never +seen any English, but neither her people nor the French showed such +tops, or came stealthily up from the boat landing under cover of +night. She did not stop to count them. Their business must be with +Saint-Castin. She ran along the wall. The invaders would probably see +her as she tried to close the gate; it had settled on its hinges, and +was too heavy for her. She thought of ringing the chapel bell; +but before any Abenaqui could reach the spot the single man in the +fortress must be overpowered. + +Saint-Castin stood on his bachelor hearth, leaning an arm on the +mantel. The light shone on his buckskin fringes, his dejected +shoulders, and his clean-shaven youthful face. A supper stood on the +table near him, where his Etchemin servants had placed it before they +trotted off to the camps. The high windows flickered, and there was +not a sound in the house except the low murmur or crackle of the +glowing backlog, until the door-latch clanked, and the door flew wide +and was slammed shut again. Saint-Castin looked up with a frown, which +changed to stupid astonishment. + +Madockawando's daughter seized him by the wrist. + +"Is there any way out of the fort except through the gate?" + +"None," answered Saint-Castin. + +"Is there no way of getting over the wall?" + +"The ladder can be used." + +"Run, then, to the ladder! Be quick." + +"What is the matter?" demanded Saint-Castin. + +The Abenaqui girl dragged on him with all her strength as he reached +for the iron door-latch. + +"Not that way--they will see you--they are coming from the river! Go +through some other door." + +"Who are coming?" + +Yielding himself to her will, Saint-Castin hurried with her from room +to room, and out through his kitchen, where the untidy implements of +his Etchemin slaves lay scattered about. They ran past the storehouse, +and he picked up a ladder and set it against the wall. + +"I will run back and ring the chapel bell," panted the girl. + +"Mount!" said Saint-Castin sternly; and she climbed the ladder, +convinced that he would not leave her behind. + +He sat on the wall and dragged the ladder up, and let it down on the +outside. As they both reached the ground, he understood what enemy had +nearly trapped him in his own fortress. + +"The doors were all standing wide," said a cautious nasal voice, +speaking English, at the other side of the wall. "Our fox hath barely +sprung from cover. He must be near." + +"Is not that the top of a ladder?" inquired another voice. + +At this there was a rush for the gate. Madockawando's daughter ran +like the wind, with Saint-Castin's hand locked in hers. She knew, by +night or day, every turn of the slender trail leading to the deserted +chapel. It came to her mind as the best place of refuge. They were cut +off from the camps, because they must cross their pursuers on the way. + +The lord of Pentegoet could hear bushes crackling behind him. The +position of the ladder had pointed the direction of the chase. He +laughed in his headlong flight. This was not ignominious running from +foes, but a royal exhilaration. He could run all night, holding the +hand that guided him. Unheeded branches struck him across the face. +He shook his hair back and flew light-footed, the sweep of the +magnificent body beside him keeping step. He could hear the tide boom +against the headland, and the swish of its recoiling waters. The girl +had her way with him. It did not occur to the officer of the Carignan +regiment that he should direct the escape, or in any way oppose the +will manifested for the first time in his favor. She felt for the +door of the, dark little chapel, and drew him in and closed it. His +judgment rejected the place, but without a word he groped at her side +across to the chancel rail. She lifted the loose slab of the platform, +and tried to thrust him into the earthen-floored box. + +"Hide yourself first," whispered Saint-Castin. + +They could hear feet running on the flinty approach. The chase was so +close that the English might have seen them enter the chapel. + +"Get in, get in!" begged the Abenaqui girl. "They will not hurt me." + +"Hide!" said Saint-Castin, thrusting her fiercely in. "Would they not +carry off the core of Saint-Castin's heart if they could?" + +She flattened herself on the ground under the platform, and gave him +all the space at her side that the contraction of her body left clear, +and he let the slab down carefully over their heads. They existed +almost without breath for many minutes. + +The wooden door-hinges creaked, and stumbling shins blundered against +the benches. + +"What is this place?" spoke an English voice. "Let some one take his +tinder-box and strike a light." + +"Have care," warned another. "We are only half a score in number. Our +errand was to kidnap Saint-Castin from his hold, not to get ourselves +ambushed by the Abenaquis." + +"We are too far from the sloop now," said a third. "We shall be cut +off before we get back, if we have not a care." + +"But he must be in here." + +"There are naught but benches and walls to hide him. This must be +an idolatrous chapel where the filthy savages congregate to worship +images." + +"Come out of the abomination, and let us make haste back to the boat. +He may be this moment marshaling all his Indians to surround us." + +"Wait. Let a light first be made." + +Saint-Castin and his companion heard the clicks of flint and steel; +then an instant's blaze of tinder made cracks visible over their +Heads. It died away, the hurried, wrangling men shuffling about. One +kicked the platform. + +"Here is a cover," he said; but darkness again enveloped them all. + +"Nothing is to be gained by searching farther," decided the majority. +"Did I not tell you this Saint-Castin will never be caught? The tide +will turn, and we shall get stranded among the rocks of that bay. It +is better to go back without Saint-Castin than to stay and be burnt by +his Abenaquis." + +"But here is a loose board in some flooring," insisted the discoverer +of the platform. "I will feel with the butt of my gun if there be +anything thereunder." + +The others had found the door, and were filing through it. + +"Why not with thy knife, man?" suggested one of them. + +"That is well thought of," he answered, and struck a half circle +under the boards. Whether in this flourish he slashed anything he only +learned by the stain on the knife, when the sloop was dropping down +the bay. But the Abenaqui girl knew what he had done, before the +footsteps ceased. She sat beside Saint-Castin on the platform, their +feet resting on the ground within the boards. No groan betrayed him, +but her arms went jealously around his body, and her searching fingers +found the cut in the buckskin. She drew her blanket about him with a +strength of compression that made it a ligature, and tied the corners +in a knot. + +"Is it deep, sagamore?" + +"Not deep enough," said Saint-Castin. "It will glue me to my buckskins +with a little blood, but it will not let me out of my troubles. I +wonder why I ran such a race from the English? They might have had me, +since they want me, and no one else does." + +"I will kiss you now, sagamore," whispered the Abenaqui girl, +trembling and weeping in the chaos of her broken reserve. "I cannot +any longer hold out against being your wife." + +She gave him her first kiss in the sacred darkness of the chapel, and +under the picture of the pierced heart. And it has since been recorded +of her that the Baroness de Saint-Castin was, during her entire +lifetime, the best worshiped wife in Acadia. + + + + +THE BEAUPORT LOUP-GAROU. + + +October dusk was bleak on the St. Lawrence, an east wind feeling along +the river's surface and rocking the vessels of Sir William Phips +on tawny rollers. It was the second night that his fleet sat there +inactive. During that day a small ship had approached Beauport +landing; but it stuck fast in the mud and became a mark for gathering +Canadians until the tide rose and floated it off. At this hour all +the habitants about Beauport except one, and even the Huron Indians +of Lorette, were safe inside the fort walls. Cattle were driven and +sheltered inland. Not a child's voice could be heard in the parish of +Beauport, and not a woman's face looked through windows fronting the +road leading up toward Montmorenci. Juchereau de Saint-Denis, the +seignior of Beauport, had taken his tenants with him as soon as the +New England invaders pushed into Quebec Basin. Only one man of the +muster hid himself and stayed behind, and he was too old for military +service. His seignior might lament him, but there was no woman to do +so. Gaspard had not stepped off his farm for years. The priest visited +him there, humoring a bent which seemed as inelastic as a vow. He had +not seen the ceremonial of high mass in the cathedral of Upper Town +since he was a young man. + +Gaspard's farm was fifteen feet wide and a mile long. It was one of +several strips lying between the St. Charles River and those heights +east of Beauport which rise to Montmorenci Falls. He had his front on +the greater stream, and his inland boundary among woods skirting the +mountain. He raised his food and the tobacco he smoked, and braided +his summer hats of straw and knitted his winter caps of wool. One suit +of well-fulled woolen clothes would have lasted a habitant a lifetime. +But Gaspard had been unlucky. He lost all his family by smallpox, and +the priest made him burn his clothes, and ruinously fit himself with +new. There was no use in putting savings in the stocking any longer, +however; the children were gone. He could only buy masses for them. +He lived alone, the neighbors taking that loving interest in him which +French Canadians bestow on one another. + +More than once Gaspard thought he would leave his farm and go into the +world. When Frontenac returned to take the paralyzed province in hand, +and fight Iroquois, and repair the mistakes of the last governor, +Gaspard put on his best moccasins and the red tasseled sash he wore +only at Christmas. "Gaspard is going to the fort," ran along the whole +row of Beauport houses. His neighbors waited for him. They all carried +their guns and powder for the purpose of firing salutes to Frontenac. +It was a grand day. But when Gaspard stepped out with the rest, his +countenance fell. He could not tell what ailed him. His friends coaxed +and pulled him; they gave him a little brandy. He sat down, and they +were obliged to leave him, or miss the cannonading and fireworks +themselves. From his own river front Gaspard saw the old lion's, ship +come to port, and, in unformed sentences, he reasoned then that a man +need not leave his place to take part in the world. + +Frontenac had not been back a month, and here was the New England +colony of Massachusetts swarming against New France. "They may carry +me away from my hearth feet first," thought Gaspard, "but I am not to +be scared away from it." + +Every night, before putting the bar across his door, the old habitant +went out to survey the two ends of the earth typified by the road +crossing his strip of farm. These were usually good moments for him. +He did not groan, as at dawn, that there were no children to relieve +him of labor. A noble landscape lifted on either hand from the hollow +of Beauport. The ascending road went on to the little chapel of Ste. +Anne de Beaupré, which for thirty years had been considered a shrine +in New France. The left hand road forded the St. Charles and climbed +the long slope to Quebec rock. + +Gaspard loved the sounds which made home so satisfying at autumn dusk. +Faint and far off he thought he could hear the lowing of his cow and +calf. To remember they were exiled gave him the pang of the unusual. +He was just chilled through, and therefore as ready for his own hearth +as a long journey could have made him, when a gray thing loped past in +the flinty dust, showing him sudden awful eyes and tongue of red fire. + +Gaspard clapped the house door to behind him and put up the bar. He +was not afraid of Phips and the fleet, of battle or night attack, but +the terror which walked in the darkness of sorcerers' times abjectly +bowed his old legs. + +"O good Ste. Anne, pray for us!" he whispered, using an invocation +familiar to his lips. "If loups-garous are abroad, also, what is to +become of this unhappy land?" + +There was a rattling knock on his door. It might be made by the +hilt of a sword; or did a loup-garou ever clatter paw against man's +dwelling? Gaspard climbed on his bed. + +"Father Gaspard! Father Gaspard! Are you within?" + +"Who is there?" + +"Le Moyne de Sainte-Hélène. Don't you know my voice?" + +"My master Sainte-Hélène, are you alone?" + +"Quite alone, except for my horse tied to your apple-tree. Let me in." + +The command was not to be slighted. Gaspard got down and admitted +his visitor. More than once had Sainte-Hélène come to this hearth. He +appreciated the large fire, and sat down on a chair with heavy legs +which were joined by bars resting on the floor. + +"My hands tingle. The dust on these, flint roads is cold." + +"But Monsieur Sainte-Hélène never walked with his hands in the dust," +protested Gaspard. The erect figure, bright with all the military +finery of that period, checked even his superstition by imposing +another kind of awe. + +"The New England men expect to make us bite it yet," responded +Sainte-Hélène. "Saint-Denis is anxious about you, old man. Why don't +you go to the fort?" + +"I will go to-morrow," promised Gaspard, relaxing sheepishly from +terror. "These New Englanders have not yet landed, and one's own bed +is very comfortable in the cool nights." + +"I am used to sleeping anywhere." + +"Yes, monsieur, for you are young." + +"It would make you young again, Gaspard, to see Count Frontenac. I +wish all New France had seen him yesterday when he defied Phips +and sent the envoy back to the fleet. The officer was sweating; our +mischievous fellows had blinded him at the water's edge, and dragged +him, to the damage of his shins, over all the barricades of Mountain +Street. He took breath and courage when they turned him loose before +the governor,--though the sight of Frontenac startled him,--and handed +over the letter of his commandant requiring the surrender of Quebec." + +"My faith, Monsieur Sainte-Hélène, did the governor blow him out of +the room?" + +"The man offered his open watch, demanding an answer within the hour. +The governor said, 'I do not need so much time. Go back at once to +your master and tell him I will answer this insolent message by the +mouths of my cannon.'" + +"By all the saints, that was a good word!" swore Gaspard, slapping his +knee with his wool cap. "Neither the Iroquois nor the Bostonnais will +run over us, now that the old governor is back. You heard him say it, +monsieur?" + +"I heard him, yes; for all his officers stood by. La Hontan was there, +too, and that pet of La Hontan's, Baron de Saint-Castin's half-breed +son, of Pentegoet." + +The martial note in the officer's voice sunk to contempt. Gaspard +was diverted from the governor to recognize, with the speechless +perception of an untrained mind, that jealousy which men established +in the world have of very young men. The male instinct of predominance +is fierce even in saints. Le Moyne de Sainte-Hélène, though of the +purest stock in New France, had no prejudice against a half-breed. + +"How is Mademoiselle Clementine?" inquired Gaspard, arriving at the +question in natural sequence. "You will see her oftener now than when +you had to ride from the fort." + +The veins looked black in his visitor's face. "Ask the little +Saint-Castin. Boys stand under windows and talk to women now. Men have +to be reconnoitering the enemy." + +"Monsieur Anselm de Saint-Castin is the son of a good fighter," +observed Gaspard. "It is said the New England men hate his very name." + +"Anselm de Saint-Castin is barely eighteen years old." + +"It is the age of Mademoiselle Clementine." + +The old habitant drew his three-legged stool to the hearth corner, and +took the liberty of sitting down as the talk was prolonged. He noticed +the leaden color which comes of extreme weariness and depression +dulling Sainte-Hélène's usually dark and rosy skin. Gaspard had heard +that this young man was quickest afoot, readiest with his weapon, +most untiring in the dance, and keenest for adventure of all the eight +brothers in his noble family. He had done the French arms credit +in the expedition to Hudson Bay and many another brush with their +enemies. The fire was burning high and clear, lighting rafters and +their curious brown tassels of smoked meat, and making the crucifix +over the bed shine out the whitest spot in a smoke-stained room. + +"Father Gaspard," inquired Sainte-Hélène suddenly, "did you ever hear +of such a thing as a loup-garou?" + +The old habitant felt terror returning with cold feet up his back and +crowding its blackness upon him through the windows. Yet as he rolled +his eyes at the questioner he felt piqued at such ignorance of his +natural claims. + +"Was I not born on the island of Orleans, monsieur?" + +Everybody knew that the island of Orleans had been from the time of +its discovery the abode of loups-garous, sorcerers, and all those +uncanny cattle that run in the twilights of the world. The western +point of its wooded ridge, which parts the St. Lawrence for twenty-two +miles, from Beauport to Beaupré, lay opposite Gaspard's door. + +"Oh, you were born on the island of Orleans?" + +"Yes, monsieur," answered Gaspard, with the pride we take in +distinction of any kind. + +"But you came to live in Beauport parish." + +"Does a goat turn to a pig, monsieur, because you carry it to the +north shore?" + +"Perhaps so: everything changes." + +Sainte-Hélène leaned forward, resting his arms on the arms of the +chair. He wrinkled his eyelids around central points of fire. + +"What is a loup-garou?" + +"Does monsieur not know? Monsieur Sainte-Hélène surely knows that a +loup-garou is a man-wolf." + +"A man-wolf," mused the soldier. "But when a person is so afflicted, +is he a man or is he a wolf?" + +"It is not an affliction, monsieur; it is sorcery." + +"I think you are right. Then the wretched man-wolf is past being +prayed for?" + +"If one should repent"-- + +"I don't repent anything," returned Sainte-Hélène; and Gaspard's jaw +relaxed, and he had the feeling of pin-feathers in his hair. "Is he a +man or is he a wolf?" repeated the questioner. + +"The loup-garou is a man, but he takes the form of a wolf." + +"Not all the time?" + +"No, monsieur, not all the time?" + +"Of course not." + +Gaspard experienced with us all this paradox: that the older we grow, +the more visible becomes the unseen. In childhood the external senses +are sharp; but maturity fuses flesh and spirit. He wished for a +priest, desiring to feel the arm of the Church around him. It was +late October,--a time which might be called the yearly Sabbath of +loups-garous. + +"And what must a loup-garou do with himself?" pursued Sainte-Hélène. +"I should take to the woods, and sit and lick my chaps, and bless my +hide that I was for the time no longer a man." + +"Saints! monsieur, he goes on a chase. He runs with his tongue lolled +out, and his eyes red as blood." + +"What color are my eyes, Gaspard?" + +The old Frenchman sputtered, "Monsieur, they are very black." + +Sainte-Hélène drew his hand across them. + +"It must be your firelight that is so red. I have been seeing as +through a glass of claret ever since I came in." + +Gaspard moved farther into the corner, the stool legs scraping the +floor. Though every hair on his body crawled with superstition, he +could not suspect Le Moyne de Sainte-Hélène. Yet the familiar face +altered strangely while he looked at it: the nose sunk with sudden +emaciation, and the jaws lengthened to a gaunt muzzle. There was a +crouching forward of the shoulders, as if the man were about to drop +on his hands and feet. Gaspard had once fallen down unconscious in +haying time; and this recalled to him the breaking up and shimmering +apart of a solid landscape. The deep cleft mouth parted, lifting first +at the corners and showing teeth, then widening to the utterance of a +low howl. + +Gaspard tumbled over the stool, and, seizing it by a leg, held it +between himself and Sainte-Hélène. + +"What is the matter, Gaspard?" exclaimed the officer, clattering his +scabbard against the chair as he rose, his lace and plumes and ribbons +stirring anew. Many a woman in the province had not as fine and +sensitive a face as the one confronting the old habitant. + +Gaspard stood back against the wall, holding the stool with its legs +bristling towards Sainte-Hélène. He shook from head to foot. + +"Have I done anything to frighten you? What is the matter with me, +Gaspard, that people should treat me as they do? It is unbearable! I +take the hardest work, the most dangerous posts; and they are against +me--against me." + +The soldier lifted his clenched fists, and turned his back on the old +man. The fire showed every curve of his magnificent stature. Wind, +diving into the chimney, strove against the sides for freedom, and +startled the silence with its hollow rumble. + +"I forded the St. Charles when the tide was rising, to take you back +with me to the fort. I see you dread the New Englanders less than you +do me. She told her father she feared you were ill. But every one is +well," said Sainte-Hélène, lowering his arms and making for the door. +And it sounded like an accusation against the world. + +He was scarcely outside in the wind, though still holding the door, +when Gaspard was ready to put up the bar. + +"Good-night, old man." + +"Good-night, monsieur, good-night, good-night!" called Gaspard, with +quavering dispatch. He pushed the door, but Sainte-Hélène looked +around its edge. Again the officer's face had changed, pinched by the +wind, and his eyes were full of mocking laughter. + +"I will say this for a loup-garou, Father Gaspard: a loup-garou may +have a harder time in this world than the other beasts, but he is no +coward; he can make a good death." + +Ashes spun out over the floor, and smoke rolled up around the joists, +as Sainte-Hélène shut himself into the darkness. Not satisfied with +barring the door, the old habitant pushed his chest against it. To +this he added the chair and stool, and barricaded it further with his +night's supply of firewood. + +"Would I go over the ford of the St. Charles with him?" Gaspard +hoarsely whispered as he crossed himself. "If the New England men were +burning my house, I would not go. And how can a loup-garou get over +that water? The St. Charles is blessed; I am certain it is blessed. +Yet he talked about fording it like any Christian." + +The old habitant was not clear in his mind what should be done, except +that it was no business of his to meddle with one of Frontenac's great +officers and a noble of New France. But as a measure of safety for +himself he took down his bottle of holy water, hanging on the wall for +emergencies, and sprinkled every part of his dwelling. + +Next morning, however, when the misty autumn light was on the hills, +promising a clear day and penetrating sunshine, as soon as he awoke he +felt ashamed of the barricade, and climbed out of bed to remove it. + +"The time has at last come when I am obliged to go to the fort," +thought Gaspard, groaning. "Governor Frontenac will not permit any +sorcery in his presence. The New England men might do me no harm, but +I cannot again face a loup-garou." + +He dressed himself accordingly, and, taking his gathered coin from its +hiding-place, wrapped every piece separately in a bit of rag, slid it +into his deep pocket, and sewed the pocket up. Then he cut off enough +bacon to toast on the raked-out coals for his breakfast, and hid +the rest under the floor. There was no fastening on the outside of +Gaspard's house. He was obliged to latch the door, and leave it at the +mercy of the enemy. + +Nothing was stirring in the frosted world. He could not yet see +the citadel clearly, or the heights of Levis; but the ascent to +Montmorenci bristled with naked trees, and in the stillness he could +hear the roar of the falls. Gaspard ambled along his belt of ground +to take a last look. It was like a patchwork quilt: a square of wheat +stubble showed here, and a few yards of brown prostrate peavines +showed there; his hayfield was less than a stone's throw long; and +his garden beds, in triangles and sections of all shapes, filled the +interstices of more ambitious crops. + +He had nearly reached the limit of the farm, and entered his neck of +woods, when the breathing of a cow trying to nip some comfort from the +frosty sod delighted his ear. The pretty milker was there, with her +calf at her side. Gaspard stroked and patted them. Though the New +Englanders should seize them for beef, he could not regret they were +wending home again. That invisible cord binding him to his own place, +which had wrenched his vitals as it stretched, now drew him back like +fate. He worked several hours to make his truants a concealing corral +of hay and stakes and straw and stumps at a place where a hill spring +threaded across his land, and then returned between his own boundaries +to the house again. + +The homesick zest of one who has traveled made his lips and unshaven +chin protrude, as he smelled the good interior. There was the wooden +crane. There was his wife's old wheel. There was the sacred row of +children's snow-shoes, which the priest had spared from burning. One +really had to leave home to find out what home was. + +But a great hubbub was beginning in Phips's fleet. Fifes were +screaming, drums were beating, and shouts were lifted and answered by +hearty voices. After their long deliberation, the New Englanders had +agreed upon some plan of attack. Gaspard went down to his landing, and +watched boatload follow boatload, until the river was swarming with +little craft pulling directly for Beauport. He looked uneasily toward +Quebec. The old lion in the citadel hardly waited for Phips to shift +position, but sent the first shot booming out to meet him. The New +England cannon answered, and soon Quebec height and Levis palisades +rumbled prodigious thunder, and the whole day was black with smoke and +streaked with fire. + +Gaspard took his gun, and trotted along his farm to the cover of the +trees. He had learned to fight in the Indian fashion; and Le Moyne +de Sainte-Hélène fought the same way. Before the boatloads of New +Englanders had all waded through tidal mud, and ranged themselves +by companies on the bank, Sainte-Hélène, who had been dispatched by +Frontenac at the first drumbeat on the river, appeared, ready to +check them, from the woods of Beauport. He had, besides three hundred +sharpshooters, the Lorette Hurons and the muster of Beauport militia, +all men with homes to save. + +The New Englanders charged them, a solid force, driving the +light-footed bush fighters. But it was like driving the wind, which +turns, and at some unexpected quarter is always ready for you again. + +This long-range fighting went on until nightfall, when the English +commander, finding that his tormentors had disappeared as suddenly as +they had appeared in the morning, tried to draw his men together at +the St. Charles ford, where he expected some small vessels would +be sent to help him across. He made a night camp here, without any +provisions. + +Gaspard's house was dark, like the deserted Beauport homes all that +night; yet one watching might have seen smoke issuing from his chimney +toward the stars. The weary New England men did not forage through +these places, nor seek shelter in them. It was impossible to know +where Indians and Frenchmen did not lie in ambush. On the other side +of the blankets which muffled Gaspard's windows, however, firelight +shone with its usual ruddiness, showing the seignior of Beauport +prostrate on his old tenant's bed. Juchereau de Saint-Denis was +wounded, and La Hontan, who was with the skirmishers, and Gaspard had +brought him in the dark down to the farmhouse as the nearest hospital. +Baron La Hontan was skillful in surgery; most men had need to be in +those days. He took the keys, and groped into the seigniory house for +the linen chest, and provided lint and bandages, and brought cordials +from the cellar; making his patient as comfortable as a wounded man +who was a veteran in years could be made in the first fever and thirst +of suffering. La Hontan knew the woods, and crept away before dawn to +a hidden bivouac of Hurons and militia; wiry and venturesome in his +age as he had been in his youth. But Saint-Denis lay helpless and +partially delirious in Gaspard's house all Thursday, while the +bombardment of Quebec made the earth tremble, and the New England +ships were being splintered by Frontenac's cannon; while Sainte-Hélène +and his brother themselves manned the two batteries of Lower Town, +aiming twenty-four-pound balls directly against the fleet; while they +cut the cross of St. George from the flagstaff of the admiral, and +Frenchmen above them in the citadel rent the sky with joy; while the +fleet, ship by ship, with shattered masts and leaking hulls, drew off +from the fight, some of them leaving cable and anchor, and drifting +almost in pieces; while the land force, discouraged, sick, and hungry, +waited for the promised help which never came. + +Thursday night was so cold that the St. Charles was skimmed with ice, +and hoarfrost lay white on the fields. But Saint-Denis was in the fire +of fever, and Gaspard, slipping like a thief, continually brought him +fresh water from the spring. + +He lay there on Friday, while the land force, refreshed by half +rations sent from the almost wrecked fleet, made a last stand, +fighting hotly as they were repulsed from New France. It was twilight +on Friday when Sainte-Hélène was carried into Gaspard's house and +laid on the floor. Gaspard felt emboldened to take the blankets from +a window and roll them up to place under the soldier's head. Many +Beauport people were even then returning to their homes. The land +force did not reëmbark until the next night, and the invaders did not +entirely withdraw for four days; but Quebec was already yielding up +its refugees. A disabled foe--though a brave and stubborn one--who had +his ships to repair, if he would not sink in them, was no longer to be +greatly dreaded. + +At first the dusk room was packed with Hurons and Montreal men. This +young seignior Sainte-Hélène was one of the best leaders of his time. +They were indignant that the enemy's last scattering shots had picked +him off. The surgeon and La Hontan put all his followers out of the +door,--he was scarcely conscious that they stood by him,--and left, +beside his brother Longueuil, only one young man who had helped carry +him in. + +Saint-Denis, on the bed, saw him with the swimming eyes of fever. +The seignior of Beauport had hoped to have Sainte-Hélène for his +son-in-law. His little Clementine, the child of his old age,--it was +after all a fortunate thing that she was shut for safety in Quebec, +while her father depended for care on Gaspard. Saint-Denis tried to +see Sainte-Hélène's face; but the surgeon's helpers constantly balked +him, stooping and rising and reaching for things. And presently a face +he was not expecting to see grew on the air before him. + +Clementine's foot had always made a light click, like a sheep's on a +naked floor. But Saint-Denis did not hear her enter. She touched her +cheek to her father's. It was smooth and cold from the October air. +Clementine's hair hung in large pale ringlets; for she was an ashen +maid, gray-toned and subdued; the roughest wind never ruffled her +smoothness. She made her father know that she had come with Beauport +women and men from Quebec, as soon as any were allowed to leave the +fort, to escort her. She leaned against the bed, soft as a fleece, +yielding her head to her father's painful fondling. There was no +heroism in Clementine; but her snug domestic ways made him happy in +his house. + +"Sainte-Hélène is wounded," observed Saint-Denis. + +She cast a glance of fright over her shoulder. + +"Did you not see him when you came in?" + +"I saw some one; but it is to you that I have been wishing to come +since Wednesday night." + +"I shall get well; they tell me it is not so bad with me. But how is +it with Sainte-Hélène?" + +"I do not know, father." + +"Where is young Saint-Castin? Ask him." + +"He is helping the surgeon, father." + +"Poor child, how she trembles! I would thou hadst stayed in the fort, +for these sights are unfit for women. New France can as ill spare him +as we can, Clementine. Was that his groan?" + +She cowered closer to the bed, and answered, "I do not know." + +Saint-Denis tried to sit up in bed, but was obliged to resign himself, +with a gasp, to the straw pillows. + +Night pressed against the unblinded window. A stir, not made by the +wind, was heard at the door, and Frontenac, and Frontenac's Récollet +confessor, and Sainte-Hélène's two brothers from the citadel, came +into the room. The governor of New France was imposing in presence. +Perhaps there was no other officer in the province to whom he would +have galloped in such haste from Quebec. It was a tidal moment in his +affairs, and Frontenac knew the value of such moments better than +most men. But Sainte-Hélène did not know the governor was there. The +Récollet father fell on his knees and at once began his office. + +Longueuil sat down on Gaspard's stool and covered his face against +the wall. He had been hurt by a spent bullet, and one arm needed +bandaging, but he said nothing about it, though the surgeon was now at +liberty, standing and looking at a patient for whom nothing could be +done. The sterner brothers watched, also, silent, as Normans taught +themselves to be in trouble. The sons of Charles Le Moyne carried his +name and the lilies of France from the Gulf of St. Lawrence to the +Gulf of Mexico. + +Anselm de Saint-Castin had fought two days alongside the man who lay +dying. The boy had an ardent face, like his father's. He was sorry, +with the skin-deep commiseration of youth for those who fall, whose +falling thins the crowded ranks of competition. But he was not for a +moment unconscious of the girl hiding her head against her father from +the sight of death. The hope of one man forever springing beside the +grave of another must work sadness in God. Yet Sainte-Hélène did not +know any young supplanter was there. He did not miss or care for +the fickle vanity of applause; he did not torment himself with the +spectres of the mind, or feel himself shrinking with the littleness of +jealousy; he did not hunger for a love that was not in the world, or +waste a Titan's passion on a human ewe any more. For him, the aching +and bewilderment, exaltations and self-distrusts, animal gladness and +subjection to the elements, were done. + +Clementine's father beckoned to the boy, and put her in his care. + +"Take her home to the women," Saint-Denis whispered. "She is not used +to war and such sight as these. And bid some of the older ones stay +with her." + +Anselm and Clementine went out, their hands just touching as he led +her in wide avoidance of the figure on the floor. Sainte-Hélène +did not know the boy and girl left him, for starlight, for silence +together, treading the silvered earth in one cadenced step, as +he awaited that moment when the solitary spirit finds its utmost +loneliness. + +Gaspard also went out. When the governor sat in his armchair, and his +seignior lay on the bed, and Le Moyne de Sainte-Hélène was stretched +that way on the floor, it could hardly be decent for an old habitant +to stand by, even cap in hand. Yet he could scarcely take his eyes +from the familiar face as it changed in phosphorescent light. +The features lifted themselves with firm nobility, expressing an +archangel's beauty. Sainte-Hélène's lips parted, and above the patter +of the reciting Récollet the watchers were startled by one note like +the sigh of a wind-harp. + +The Montreal militia, the Lorette Hurons, and Beauport men were still +thronging about, overflowing laterally upon the other farms. They +demanded word of the young seignior, hushing their voices. Some of +them had gone into Gaspard's milk cave and handed out stale milk for +their own and their neighbors' refreshment. A group were sitting on +the crisp ground, with a lantern in their midst, playing some game; +their heads and shoulders moving with an alacrity objectless to +observers, so closely was the light hemmed in. + +Gaspard reached his gateway with the certainty of custom. He looked +off at both ends of the world. The starlit stretch of road was almost +as deserted as when Quebec shut in the inhabitants of Beauport. From +the direction of Montmorenci he saw a gray thing come loping down, +showing eyes and tongue of red fire. He screamed an old man's scream, +pointing to it, and the cry of "Loup-garou!" brought all Beauport men +to their feet. The flints clicked. It was a time of alarms. Two shots +were fired together, and an under officer sprung across the fence of a +neighboring farm to take command of the threatened action. + +The camp of sturdy New Englanders on the St. Charles was hid by a +swell in the land. At the outcry, those Frenchmen around the lantern +parted company, some recoiling backwards, and others scrambling +to seize their guns. But one caught up the lantern, and ran to the +struggling beast in the road. + +Gaspard pushed into the gathering crowd, and craned himself to see the +thing, also. He saw a gaunt dog, searching yet from face to face for +some lost idol, and beating the flinty world with a last thump of +propitiation. + +Frontenac opened the door and stood upon the doorstep. His head almost +reached the overhanging straw thatch. + +"What is the alarm, my men?" + +"Your excellency," the subaltern answered, "it was nothing but a dog. +It came down from Montmorenci, and some of the men shot it." + +"Le Moyne de Sainte-Hélène," declared Frontenac, lowering his plumed +hat, "has just died for New France." + + * * * * * + +Gaspard stayed out on his river front until he felt half frozen. The +old habitant had not been so disturbed and uncomfortable since his +family died of smallpox. Phips's vessels lay near the point of Orleans +Island, a few portholes lighting their mass of gloom, while two red +lanterns aloft burned like baleful eyes at the lost coast of Canada. +Nothing else showed on the river. The distant wall of Levis palisades +could be discerned, and Quebec stood a mighty crown, its gems all +sparkling. Behind Gaspard, Beauport was alive. The siege was virtually +over, and he had not set foot off his farm during Phips's invasion of +New France. He did not mind sleeping on the floor, with his heels to +the fire. But there were displacements and changes and sorrows which +he did mind. + +"However," muttered the old man, and it was some comfort to the vague +aching in his breast to formulate one fact as solid as the heights +around, "it is certain that there are loups-garous." + + + + +THE MILL AT PETIT CAP + + +August night air, sweet with a half salt breath from the St. Lawrence, +met the miller of San Joachim as he looked out; but he bolted the +single thick door of the mill, and cast across it into a staple a +hook as long as his body and as thick as his arm. At any alarm in the +village he must undo these fastenings, and receive the refugees from +Montgomery; yet he could not sleep without locking the door. So all +that summer he had slept on a bench in the mill basement, to be ready +for the call. + +All the parishes on the island of Orleans, and on each side of the +river, quite to Montmorenci Falls, where Wolfe's army was encamped, +had been sacked by that evil man, Captain Alexander Montgomery, whom +the English general himself could hardly restrain. San Joachim du +Petit Cap need not hope to escape. It was really Wolfe's policy to +harry the country which in that despairing summer of 1759 he saw no +chance of conquering. + +The mill was grinding with a shuddering noise which covered all +country night sounds. But so accustomed was the miller to this lullaby +that he fell asleep on his chaff cushion directly, without his usual +review of the trouble betwixt La Vigne and himself. He was sensitive +to his neighbors' claims, and the state of the country troubled him, +but he knew he could endure La Vigne's misfortunes better than any +other man's. + +Loopholes in the hoary stone walls of the basement were carefully +covered, but a burning dip on the hearth betrayed them within. There +was a deep blackened oven built at right angles to the fireplace in +the south wall. The stairway rose like a giant's ladder to the vast +dimness overhead. No other such fortress-mill was to be found between +Cap Tourmente and the citadel, or indeed anywhere on the St. Lawrence. +It had been built not many years before by the Seminaire priests of +Quebec for the protection and nourishment of their seigniory, that +huge grant of rich land stretching from Beaupré to Cap Tourmente, +bequeathed to the church by the first bishop of Canada. + +The miller suddenly dashed up with a shout. He heard his wife scream +above the rattle of the mill, and stumbling over basement litter he +unstopped a loophole and saw the village already mounting in flames. + +The mill door's iron-clamped timbers were beaten by a crowd of +entreating hands, and he tore back the fastenings and dragged his +neighbors in. Children, women, men, fell past him on the basement +floor, and he screamed for help to hold the door against Montgomery's +men. The priest was the last one to enter and the first to set a +shoulder with the miller's. A discharge of firearms from without +made lightning in the dim inclosure, and the curé, Father Robineau de +Portneuf, reminded his flock of the guns they had stored in the mill +basement. Loopholes were soon manned, and the enemy were driven back +from the mill door. The roaring torch of each cottage thatch showed +them in the redness of their uniforms,--good marks for enraged +refugees; so they drew a little farther westward still, along the hot +narrow street of San Joachim du Petit Cap. + +At an unoccupied loophole Father Robineau watched his chapel burning, +with its meagre enrichments, added year by year. But this was nothing, +when his eye dropped to the two or three figures lying face downward +on the road. He turned himself toward the wailing of a widow and a +mother. + +The miller's wife was coming downstairs with a candle, leaving her +children huddled in darkness at the top. Those two dozen or more +people whom she could see lifting dazed looks at her were perhaps +of small account in the province; but they were her friends and +neighbors, and bounded her whole experience of the world, except that +anxiety of having her son Laurent with Montcalm's militia. The dip +light dropped tallow down her petticoat, and even unheeded on one bare +foot. + +"My children," exhorted Father Robineau through the wailing of +bereaved women, "have patience." The miller's wife stooped and passed +a hand across a bright head leaning against the stair side. + +"Thy mother is safe, Angèle?" + +"Oh, yes, Madame Sandeau." + +"Thy father and the children are safe?" + +"Oh, yes," testified the miller, passing towards the fireplace, "La +Vigne and all his are within. I counted them." + +"The saints be praised," said his wife. + +"Yes, La Vigne got in safely," added the miller, "while that excellent +Jules Martin, our good neighbor, lies scalped out there in the +road."[1] + +"He does not know what he is saying, Angèle," whispered his wife to +the weeping girl. But the miller snatched the candle from the hearth +as if he meant to fling his indignation with it at La Vigne. His +worthy act, however, was to light the sticks he kept built in the +fireplace for such emergency. A flame arose, gradually revealing +the black earthen floor, the swarm of refugees, and even the +tear-suspending lashes of little children's eyes. + +La Vigne appeared, sitting with his hands in his hair. And the +miller's wife saw there was a strange young demoiselle among the women +of the côte, trying to quiet them. She had a calm dark beauty and an +elegance of manner unusual to the provinces, and even Father Robineau +beheld her with surprise. + +"Mademoiselle, it is unfortunate that you should be in Petit Cap at +this time," said the priest. + +"Father, I count myself fortunate," she answered, "if no worse +calamity has befallen me. My father is safe within here. Can you tell +me anything about my husband, Captain De Mattissart, of the Languedoc +regiment, with General Montcalm?" + +"Madame, I never saw your husband." + +"He was to meet me with escort at Petit Cap. We landed on a little +point, secretly, with no people at all, and my father would have +returned in his sailboat, but my husband did not meet us. These +English must have cut him off, father." + +"These are not times in which a woman should stir abroad," said the +priest. + +"Monsieur the curé, there is no such comfortable doctrine for a man +with a daughter," said a figure at the nearest loophole, turning and +revealing himself by face and presence a gentilhomme. "Especially a +daughter married to a soldier. I am Denys of Bonaventure, galloping +hither out of Acadia at her word of command." + +The priest made him a gesture of respect and welcome. + +"One of the best men in Acadia should be of advantage to us here. But +I regret madame's exposure. You were not by yourselves attempting to +reach Montcalm's camp?" + +"How do I know, monsieur the curé? My daughter commanded this +expedition." Denys of Bonaventure shrugged his shoulders and spread +his palms with a smile. + +"We were going to knock at the door of the curé of Petit Cap," said +the lady. "There was nothing else for us to do; but the English +appeared." + +Successive shots at the loopholes proved that the English had not yet +disappeared. Denys seized his gun again, and turned to the defense, +urging that the children and women be sent out of the way of balls. + +Father Robineau, on his part, gave instant command to the miller's +wife, and she climbed the stairs again, heading a long line of +distressed neighbors. + +The burrs were in the second story, and here the roaring of the mill +took possession of all the shuddering air. Every massive joist half +growing from dimness overhead was hung with ghostly shreds of cobweb; +and on the grayish whiteness of the floor the children's naked soles +cut out oblongs dotted with toe-marks. + +Mother Sandeau made her way first to an inclosed corner, and looked +around to invite the attention of her followers. Such violence had +been done to her stolid habits that she seemed to need the sight of +her milk-room to restore her to intelligent action. The group was +left in half darkness while she thrust her candle into the milk-room, +showing its orderly array of flowered bowls amidst moist coolness. +Here was a promise of sustenance to people dependent for the next +mouthful of food. "It will last a few days, even if the cows be driven +off and killed!" said the miller's good wife. + +But there was the Acadian lady to be first thought of. Neighbors could +be easily spread out on the great floor, with rolls of bedding. Her +own oasis of homestead stood open, showing a small fireplace hollowed +in one wall, two feet above the floor; table and heavy chairs; and +sleeping rooms beyond. Yet none of these things were good enough to +offer such a stranger. + +"Take no thought about me, good friend," said the girl, noticing +Mother Sandeau's anxiously creased face. "I shall presently go back to +my father." + +"But, no," exclaimed the miller's wife, "the priest forbids women +below, and there is my son's bridal room upstairs with even a +dressing-table in it. I only held back on account of Angèle La Vigne," +she added to comprehending neighbors, "but Angèle will attend to the +lady there." + +"Angèle will gladly attend to the lady anywhere," spoke out Angèle's +mother, with a resentment of her child's position which ruin could not +crush. "It is the same as if marriage was never talked of between your +son Laurent and her." + +"Yes, neighbor, yes," said the miller's wife appeasingly. It was not +her fault that a pig had stopped the marriage. She gave her own +candle to Angèle, with a motherly look. The girl had a pink and golden +prettiness unusual among habitantes. Though all flush was gone out of +her skin under the stress of the hour, she retained the innocent clear +pallor of an infant. Angèle hurried to straighten her disordered dress +before taking the candle, and then led Madame De Mattissart up the +next flight of stairs. + +The mill's noise had forced talkers to lift their voices, and it now +half dulled the clamp of habitante shoes below, and the whining of +children longing again for sleep. Huge square wooden hoppers were +shaking down grain, and the two or three square sashes in the +thickness of front wall let in some light from the burning côte. + +The building's mighty stone hollows were as cool as the dew-pearled +and river-vapored landscape outside. Occasional shots from below kept +reverberating upward through two more floors overhead. + +Laurent's bridal apartment was of new boards built like a deck cabin +at one side of the third story. It was hard for Angèle to throw open +the door of this sacred little place which she had expected to +enter as a bride, and the French officer's young wife understood it, +restraining the girl's hand. + +"Stop, my child. Let us not go in. I came up here simply to quiet the +others." + +"But you were to rest in this chamber, madame." + +"Do you think I can rest when I do not know whether I am wife or +widow?" + +The young girls looked at each other with piteous eyes. + +"This is a terrible time, madame." + +"It will, however, pass by, in some fashion." + +"But what shall I do for you, madame? Where will you sit? Is there +nothing you require?" + +"Yes, I am thirsty. Is there not running water somewhere in this +mill?" + +"There is the flume-chamber overhead," said Angèle. "I will set the +light here, and go down for a cup, madame." + +"Do not. We will go to the flume-chamber together. My hands, my +throat, my eyes burn. Go on, Angèle, show me the way." + +Laurent's room, therefore, was left in darkness, holding unseen its +best furniture, the family's holiday clothes of huge grained flannel, +and the little yellow spinning-wheel, with its pile of unspun wool +like forgotten snow. + +In the fourth story, as below, deep-set swinging windows had small +square panes, well dusted with flour. Nothing broke the monotony of +wall except a row of family snow-shoes. The flume-chamber, inclosed +from floor to ceiling, suggested a grain's sprouting here and there in +its upright humid boards. + +As the two girls glanced around this grim space, they were startled by +silence through the building, for the burrs ceased to work. Feet and +voices indeed stirred below, but the sashes no longer rattled. Then a +tramping seemed following them up, and Angèle dragged the young lady +behind a stone pillar, and blew out their candle. + +"What are you doing?" demanded Madame De Mattissart in displeasure. +"If the door has been forced, should we desert our fathers?" + +"It is not that," whispered Angèle. And before she could give any +reason for her impulse, the miller's head and light appeared above the +stairs. It was natural enough for Angèle La Vigne to avoid Laurent's +father. What puzzled her was to see her own barefooted father creeping +after the miller, his red wool night-cap pulled over dejected brows. + +These good men had been unable to meet without quarreling since the +match between Laurent and Angèle was broken off, on account of a +pig which Father La Vigne would not add to her dower. Angèle had a +blanket, three dishes, six tin plates, and a kneading-trough; at +the pig her father drew the line, and for a pig Laurent's father +contended. But now all the La Vigne pigs were roasted or scattered, +Angèle's dower was destroyed, and what had a ruined habitant to say to +the miller of Petit Cap? + +Father Robineau had stopped the mill because its noise might cover +attacks. As the milder ungeared his primitive machinery, he had +thought of saving water in the flume-chamber. There were wires and +chains for shutting off its escape. + +He now opened a door in the humid wall and put his candle over the +clear, dark water. The flume no longer furnished a supply, and he +stared open-lipped, wondering if the enemy had meddled with his +water-gate in the upland. + +The flume, at that time the most ambitious wooden channel on the north +shore, supported on high stilts of timber, dripped all the way from +a hill stream to the fourth story of Petit Cap mill. The miller had +watched it escape burning thatches, yet something had happened at the +dam. Shreds of moss, half floating and half moored, reminded him to +close the reservoir, and he had just moved the chains when La Vigne +startled him by speaking at his ear. + +The miller recoiled, but almost in the action his face recovered +itself. He wore a gray wool night-cap, and its tassel hung down over +one lifted eyebrow. + +"Pierre Sandeau, my friend," opened La Vigne with a whimper, "I +followed you up here to weep with you." + +"You did well," replied the miller bluntly, "for I am a ruined man +with the parish to feed, unless the Seminaire fathers take pity on +me." + +"Yes, you have lost more than all of us," said La Vigne. + +"I am not the man to measure losses and exult over my neighbors," +declared the miller; "but how many pigs would you give to your girl's +dower now, Guillaume?" + +"None at all, my poor Pierre. At least she is not a widow." + +"Nor ever likely to be now, since she has no dower to make her a +wife." + +"How could she be a wife without a husband? Taunt me no more about +that pig. I tell you it is worse with you: you have no son." + +"What do you mean? I have half a dozen." + +"But Laurent is shot." + +"Laurent--shot?" whispered the miller, relaxing his flabby face, and +letting the candle sink downward until it spread their shadows on the +floor. + +"Yes, my friend," whimpered La Vigne. "I saw him through my window +when the alarm was given. He was doubtless coming to save us all, for +an officer was with him. Jules Martin's thatch was just fired. It was +bright as sunrise against the hill, and the English saw our Laurent +and his officer, no doubt, for they shot them down, and I saw it +through my back window." + +The miller sunk to his knees, and set the candle on the floor; La +Vigne approached and mingled night-cap tassels and groans with him. + +"Oh, my son! And I quarreled with thee, Guillaume, about a pig, and +made the children unhappy." + +"But I was to blame for that, Pierre," wept La Vigne, "and now we have +neither pig nor son!" + +"Perhaps Montgomery's men have scalped him;" the miller pulled the +night-cap from his own head and threw it on the floor in helpless +wretchedness. + +La Vigne uttered a low bellow in response, and they fell upon each +other's necks and were about to lament together in true Latin fashion, +when the wife of Montcalm's officer called to them. + +She stood out from the shadow of the stone column, dead to all +appearances, yet animate, and trying to hold up Angèle whose whole +body lapsed downward in half unconsciousness. "Bring water," demanded +Madame De Mattissart. + +And seeing who had overheard the dreadful news, La Vigne ran to the +flume-chamber, and the miller scrambled up and reached over him to dip +the first handful. Both stooped within the door, both recoiled, and +both raised a yell which echoed among high rafters in the attic above. +The miller thought Montgomery's entire troop were stealing into the +mill through the flume; for a man's legs protruded from the opening +and wriggled with such vigor that his body instantly followed and he +dropped into the water. + +His beholders seized and dragged him out upon the floor; but he +threw off their hands, sprang astride of the door-sill, and stretched +himself to the flume mouth to help another man out of it. + +La Vigne ran downstairs shrieking for the priest, as if he had seen +witchcraft. But the miller stood still, with the candle flaring on the +floor behind him, not sure of his son Laurent in militia uniform, but +trembling with some hope. + +It was Madame De Mattissart's cry to her husband which confirmed the +miller's senses. She knew the young officer through the drenching +and raggedness of his white and gold uniform; she understood how two +wounded men could creep through any length of flume, from which a +miller's son would know how to turn off the water. She had no need to +ask what their sensations were, sliding down that slimy duct, or how +they entered it without being seen by the enemy. Let villagers talk +over such matters, and shout and exclaim when they came to hear this +strange thing. It was enough that her husband had met her through +every danger, and that he was able to stand and receive her in his +arms. + +Laurent's wound was serious. After all his exertions he fainted; but +Angèle took his head upon her knee, and the fathers and mothers and +neighbors swarmed around him, and Father Robineau did him doctor's +service. Every priest then on the St. Lawrence knew how to dress +wounds as well as bind up spirits. + +Denys of Bonaventure, notwithstanding the excitement overhead, kept +men at the basement loopholes until Montgomery had long withdrawn and +returned to camp. + +He then felt that he could indulge himself with a sight of his +son-in-law, and tiptoed up past the colony of women and children whom +the priest had just driven again to their rest on the second floor; +past that sacred chamber on the third floor, and on up to the flume +loft. There Monsieur De Bonaventure paused, with his head just above +the boards, like a pleasant-faced sphinx. + +"Accept my salutations, Captain De Mattissart," he said laughing. +"I am told that you and this young militia-man floated down the +mill-stream into this mill, with the French flag waving over your +heads, to the no small discouragement of the English. Quebec will +never be taken, monsieur." + +Long ago those who found shelter in the mill dispersed to rebuild +their homes under a new order of things, or wedded like Laurent and +Angèle, and lived their lives and died. Yet, witnessing to all these +things, the old mill stands to-day at Petit Cap, huge and cavernous; +with its oasis of home, its milk-room, its square hoppers and +flume-chamber unchanged. Daylight refuses to follow you into the +blackened basement; and the shouts of Montgomery's sacking horde seem +to linger in the mighty hollows overhead. + + +[Footnote 1: Wolfe forbade such barbarities, but Montgomery did not +always obey. It was practiced on both sides.] + + + + +WOLFE'S COVE. + + +The cannon was for the time silent, the gunners being elsewhere, but a +boy's voice called from the bastion:-- + +"Come out here, mademoiselle. I have an apple for you." + +"Where did you get an apple?" replied a girl's voice. + +"Monsieur Bigot gave it to me. He has everything the king's stores +will buy. His slave was carrying a basketful." + +"I do not like Monsieur Bigot. His face is blotched, and he kisses +little girls." + +"His apples are better than his manners," observed the boy, waiting, +knife in hand, for her to come and see that the division was a fair +one. + +She tiptoed out from the gallery of the commandant's house, the wind +blowing her curls back from her shoulders. A bastion of Fort St. Louis +was like a balcony in the clouds. The child's lithe, long body made a +graceful line in every posture, and her face was vivid with light and +expression. + +"Perhaps your sick mother would like this apple, Monsieur Jacques. We +do not have any in the fort." + +The boy flushed. He held the halves ready on his palm. + +"I thought of her; but the surgeon might forbid it, and she is not +fond of apples when she is well. And you are always fond of apples, +Mademoiselle Anglaise." + +"My name is Clara Baker. If you call me Mademoiselle Anglaise, I will +box your ears." + +"But you are English," persisted the boy. "You cannot help it. I am +sorry for it myself; and when I am grown I will whip anybody that +reproaches you for it." + +They began to eat the halves of the apple, forgetful of Jacques's sick +mother, and to quarrel as their two nations have done since France and +England stood on the waters. + +"Don't distress yourself, Monsieur Jacques Repentigny. The English +will be the fashion in Quebec when you are grown." + +It was amusing to hear her talk his language glibly while she +prophesied. + +"Do you think your ugly General Wolfe can ever make himself the +fashion?" retorted Jacques. "I saw him once across the Montmorenci +when I was in my father's camp. His face runs to a point in the +middle, and his legs are like stilts." + +"His stilts will lift him into Quebec yet." + +The boy shook his black queue. He had a cheek in which the flush came +and went, and black sparkling eyes. + +"The English never can take this province. What can you know about it? +You were only a little baby when Madame Ramesay bought you from the +Iroquois Indians who had stolen you. If your name had not been on your +arm, you would not even know that. But a Le Moyne of Montreal knows +all about the province. My grandfather, Le Moyne de Longueuil, was +wounded down there at Beauport, when the English came to take Canada +before. And his brother Jacques that I am named for--Le Moyne de +Sainte-Hélène--was killed. I have often seen the place where he died +when I went with my father to our camp." + +The little girl pushed back her sleeve, as she did many times a day, +and looked at the name tattooed in pale blue upon her arm. Jacques +envied her that mark, and she was proud of it. Her traditions were +all French, but the indelible stamp, perhaps of an English seaman, +reminded her what blood was in her veins. + +The children stepped nearer the parapet, where they could see all +Quebec Basin, and the French camp stretching its city of tents across +the valley of the St. Charles. Beneath them was Lower Town, a huddle +of blackened shells and tottering walls. + +"See there what the English have done," said Clara, pointing down the +sheer rock. "It will be a long time before you and I go down Breakneck +Stairs again to see the pretty images in the church of Our Lady of +Victories." + +"They did that two months ago," replied Jacques. "It was all they +could do. And now they are sick of bombarding, and are going home. +All their soldiers at Montmorenci and on the point of Orleans are +embarking. Their vessels keep running around like hens in a shower, +hardly knowing what to do." + +"Look at them getting in a line yonder," insisted his born enemy. + +"General Montcalm is in front of them at Beauport," responded Jacques. + +The ground was moist underfoot, and the rock on which they leaned felt +damp. Quebec grayness infused with light softened the autumn world. No +one could behold without a leap of the heart that vast reach of river +and islands, and palisade and valley, and far-away melting mountain +lines. Inside Quebec walls the children could see the Ursuline convent +near the top of the slope, showing holes in its roof. Nearly every +building in the city had suffered. + +Drums began to beat on the British ships ranged in front of Beauport, +and a cannon flashed. Its roar was shaken from height to height. Then +whole broadsides of fire broke forth, and the earth rumbled with the +sound, and scarlet uniforms filled the boats like floating poppies. + +"The English may be going home," exulted Clara, "but you now see for +yourself, Monsieur Jacques Repentigny, what they intend to do before +they go." + +"I wish my father had not been sent with his men back to Montreal!" +exclaimed Jacques in excitement. "But I shall go down to the camps, +anyhow." + +"Your mother will cry," threatened the girl. + +"My mother is used to war. She often lets me sleep in my father's +tent. Tell her I have gone to the camps." + +"They will put you in the guard-house." + +"They do not put a Repentigny in the guard-house." + +"If you will stay here," called the girl, running after him towards +the fortress gate, "I will play anything you wish. The cannon balls +might hit you." + +Deaf to the threat of danger, he made off through cross-cuts toward +the Palace Gate, the one nearest the bridge of boats on the St. +Charles River. + +"Very good, monsieur. I'll tell your mother," she said, trembling and +putting up a lip. + +But nothing except noise was attempted at Beauport. Jacques was +so weary, as he toiled back uphill in diminishing light, that he +gratefully crawled upon a cart and lay still, letting it take him +wherever the carter might be going. There were not enough horses and +oxen in Canada to move the supplies for the army from Montreal to +Quebec by land. Transports had to slip down the St. Lawrence by night, +running a gauntlet of vigilant English vessels. Yet whenever the +intendant Bigot wanted to shift anything, he did not lack oxen or +wheels. Jacques did not talk to the carter, but he knew a load of +king's provisions was going out to some favorite of the intendant's +who had been set to guard the northern heights. The stealings of this +popular civil officer were common talk in Quebec. + +That long slope called the Plains of Abraham, which swept away from +the summit of the rock toward Cap Rouge, seemed very near the sky. +Jacques watched dusk envelop this place. Patches of faded herbage and +stripped corn, and a few trees only, broke the monotony of its extent. +On the north side, overhanging the winding valley of the St. Charles, +the rock's great shoulder was called Côte Ste. Geneviève. The bald +plain was about a mile wide, but the cart jogged a mile and a half +from Quebec before it reached the tents where its freight was to be +discharged. + +Habit had taken the young Repentigny daily to his father's camp, +but this was the first time he had seen the guard along the heights. +Montcalm's soldiers knew him. He was permitted to handle arms. Many +a boy of fifteen was then in the ranks, and children of his age were +growing used to war. His father called it his apprenticeship to the +trade. A few empty houses stood some distance back of the tents; and +farther along the precipice, beyond brush and trees, other guards were +posted. Seventy men and four cannon completed the defensive line which +Montcalm had drawn around the top of the rock. Half the number could +have kept it, by vigilance. And it was evident that the officer in +charge thought so, and was taking advantage of his general's bounty. + +"Remember I am sending you to my field as well as to your own," the +boy overheard him say. Nearly all his company were gathered in a +little mob before his tent. He sat there on a camp stool. They were +Canadians from Lorette, anxious for leave of absence, and full of +promises. + +"Yes, monsieur, we will remember your field." "Yes, Captain Vergor, +your grain as soon as we have gathered ours in." "It shall be done, +captain." + +Jacques had heard of Vergor. A few years before, Vergor had been put +under arrest for giving up Fort Beauséjour, in Acadia, to the English +without firing a shot. The boy thought it strange that such a man +should be put in charge of any part of the defensive cordon around +Quebec. But Vergor had a friend in the intendant Bigot, who knew +how to reinstate his disgraced favorites. The arriving cart drew the +captain's attention from his departing men. He smiled, his depressed +nose and fleshy lips being entirely good-natured. + +"A load of provisions, and a recruit for my company," he said. + +"Monsieur the captain needs recruits," observed Jacques. + +"Society is what I need most," said Vergor. "And from appearances I +am going to have it at my supper which the cook is about to set before +me." + +"I think I will stay all night here," said Jacques. + +"You overwhelm me," responded Vergor. + +"There are so many empty tents." + +"Fill as many of them as you can," suggested Vergor. "You are +doubtless much away from your mother, inspecting the troops; but what +will madame say if you fail to answer at her roll call to-night?" + +"Nothing. I should be in my father's tent at Montreal, if she had been +able to go when he was ordered back there." + +"Who is your father?" + +"Le Gardeur de Repentigny." + +Vergor drew his lips together for a soft whistle, as he rose to direct +the storing of his goods. + +"It is a young general with whom I am to have the honor of messing. I +thought he had the air of camps and courts the moment I saw his head +over the side of the cart." + +Many a boy secretly despises the man to whose merry insolence he +submits. But the young Repentigny felt for Vergor such contempt as +only an incompetent officer inspires. + +No sentinels were stationed. The few soldiers remaining busied +themselves over their mess fires. Jacques looked down a cove not quite +as steep as the rest of the cliff, yet as nearly perpendicular as any +surface on which trees and bushes can take hold. It was clothed with +a thick growth of sere weeds, cut by one hint of a diagonal line. +Perhaps laborers at a fulling mill now rotting below had once climbed +this rock. Rain had carried the earth from above in small cataracts +down its face, making a thin alluvial coating. A strip of land +separated the rock from the St. Lawrence, which looked wide and gray +in the evening light. Showers raked the far-off opposite hills. Leaves +showing scarlet or orange were dulled by flying mist. + +The boy noticed more boats drifting up river on the tide than he had +counted in Quebec Basin. + +"Where are all the vessels going?" he asked the nearest soldier. + +"Nowhere. They only move back and forth with the tide." + +"But they are English ships. Why don't you fire on them?" + +"We have no orders. And besides, our own transports have to slip down +among them at night. One is pretty careful not to knock the bottom out +of the dish which carries his meat." + +"The English might land down there some dark night." + +"They may land; but, unfortunately for themselves, they have no +wings." + +The boy did not answer, but he thought, "If my father and General +Levis were posted here, wings would be of no use to the English." + +His distinct little figure, outlined against the sky, could be seen +from the prisoners' ship. One prisoner saw him without taking any note +that he was a child. Her eyes were fierce and red-rimmed. She was +the only woman on the deck, having come up the gangway to get rid of +habitantes. These fellow-prisoners of hers were that moment putting +their heads together below and talking about Mademoiselle Jeannette +Descheneaux. They were perhaps the only people in the world who took +any thought of her. Highlanders and seamen moving on deck scarcely +saw her. In every age of the world beauty has ruled men. Jeannette +Descheneaux was a big, manly Frenchwoman, with a heavy voice. In +Quebec, she was a contrast to the exquisite and diaphanous creatures +who sometimes kneeled beside her in the cathedral, or looked out of +sledge or sedan chair at her as she tramped the narrow streets. They +were the beauties of the governor's court, who permitted in a new +land the corrupt gallantries of Versailles. She was the daughter of +a shoemaker, and had been raised to a semi-official position by the +promotion of her brother in the government. Her brother had grown rich +with the company of speculators who preyed on the province and the +king's stores. He had one motherless child, and Jeannette took charge +of it and his house until the child died. She was perhaps a masculine +nourisher of infancy; yet the upright mark between her black eyebrows, +so deep that it seemed made by a hatchet, had never been there before +the baby's death; and it was by stubbornly venturing too far among the +parishes to seek the child's foster mother, who was said to be in some +peril at Petit Cap, that Jeannette got herself taken prisoner. + +For a month this active woman had been a dreamer of dreams. Every day +the prison ship floated down to Quebec, and her past stood before her +like a picture. Every night it floated up to Cap Rouge, where French +camp fires flecked the gorge and the north shore stretching westward. +No strict guard was kept over the prisoners. She sat on the ship's +deck, and a delicious languor, unlike any former experience, grew +and grew upon her. The coaxing graces of pretty women she never +caricatured. Her skin was of the dark red tint which denotes a testy +disposition. She had fierce one-sided wars for trivial reasons, and +was by nature an aggressive partisan, even in the cause of a dog or a +cat. Being a woman of few phrases, she repeated these as often as +she had occasion for speech, and divided the world simply into two +classes: two or three individuals, including herself, were human +beings; the rest of mankind she denounced, in a voice which shook the +walls, as spawn. One does not like to be called spawn. + +Though Jeannette had never given herself to exaggerated worship, she +was religious. The lack of priest and mass on the prison transport +was blamed for the change which came over her. A haze of real feminine +softness, like the autumn's purpling of rocks, made her bones less +prominent. But the habitantes, common women from the parishes, who had +children and a few of their men with them, saw what ailed her. They +noticed that while her enmity to the English remained unchanged, she +would not hear a word against the Highlanders, though Colonel Fraser +and his Seventy-Eighth Highland regiment had taken her prisoner. It is +true, Jeannette was treated with deference, and her food was sent to +her from the officer's table, and she had privacy on the ship which +the commoner prisoners had not. It is also true that Colonel Fraser +was a gentleman, detesting the parish-burning to which his command was +ordered for a time. But the habitantes laid much to his blue eyes and +yellow hair, and the picturesqueness of the red and pale green Fraser +tartan. They nudged one another when Jeannette began to plait her +strong black locks, and make a coronet of them on her sloping head. +She was always exact and neat in her dress, and its mannishness stood +her in good stead during her month's imprisonment. Rough wool was +her invariable wear, instead of taffetas and silky furs, which Quebec +women delighted in. She groomed herself carefully each day for +that approach to the English camp at Point Levi which the tide +accomplished. Her features could be distinguished half a mile. On the +days when Colonel Fraser's fezlike plumed bonnet was lifted to her in +the camp, she went up the river again in a trance of quiet. On other +days the habitantes laughed, and said to one another, "Mademoiselle +will certainly break through the deck with her tramping." + +There was a general restlessness on the prison ship. The English +sailors wanted to go home. The Canadians had been patient since the +middle of August. But this particular September night, as they drifted +up past the rock, and saw the defenses of their country bristling +against them, the feeling of homesickness vented itself in complaints. +Jeannette was in her cabin, and heard them abuse Colonel Fraser and +his Highlanders as kidnapers of women and children, and burners of +churches. She came out of her retreat, and hovered over them like a +hawk. The men pulled their caps off, drolly grinning. + +"It is true," added one of them, "that General Montcalm is to blame +for letting the parishes burn. And at least he might take us away from +the English." + +"Do you think Monsieur de Montcalm has nothing to do but bring you in +off the river?" demanded Jeannette. + +"Mademoiselle does not want to be brought in," retorted one of the +women. "As for us, we are not in love with these officers who wear +petticoats, or with any of our enemies." + +"Spawn!" Jeanette hurled at them. Yet her partisan fury died in her +throat. She went up on deck to be away from her accusers. The seamed +precipice, the indented cove with the child's figure standing at the +top, and all the panorama to which she was so accustomed by morning +light or twilight passed before her without being seen by her fierce +red-rimmed eyes. + +Jeannette Descheneaux had walked through the midst of colonial +intrigues without knowing that they existed. Men she ignored; and she +could not now account for her keen knowledge that there was a colonel +of the Seventy-Eighth Highlanders. Her entanglement had taken her in +the very simplicity of childhood. She could not blame him. He had +done nothing but lift his bonnet to her, and treat her with deference +because he was sorry she had fallen into his hands. But at first she +fought with silent fury the power he unconsciously held over her. She +felt only the shame of it, which the habitantes had cast upon her. +Nobody had ever called Jeannette Descheneaux a silly woman. In early +life it was thought she had a vocation for the convent; but she drew +back from that, and now she was suddenly desolate. Her brother had his +consolations. There was nothing for her. + +Scant tears, oozing like blood, moistened her eyes. She took hold of +her throat to strangle a sob. Her teeth chattered in the wind blowing +down river. Constellations came up over the rock's long shoulder. +Though it was a dark night, the stars were clear. She took no heed +of the French camp fires in the gorge and along the bank. The French +commander there had followed the erratic motions of English boats +until they ceased to alarm him. It was flood tide. The prison ship sat +on the water, scarcely swinging. + +At one o'clock Jeannette was still on deck, having watched through the +midnight of her experience. She had no phrases for her thoughts. They +were dumb, but they filled her to the outermost layer of her skin, and +deadened sensation. + +Boats began to disturb her, however. They trailed past the ship with +a muffled swish, all of them disappearing in the darkness. This +gathering must have been going on some time before she noticed it. The +lantern hanging aloft made a mere warning spot in the darkness, for +the lights on deck had been put out. All the English ships, when she +looked about her, were to be guessed at, for not a port-hole cast +its cylinder of radiance on the water. Night muffled their hulls, and +their safety lights hung in a scattered constellation. In one place +two lanterns hung on one mast. + +Jeannette felt the pull of the ebbing tide. The ship gave way to it. +As it swung, and the monotonous flow of the water became constant, she +heard a boat grate, and directly Colonel Fraser came up the vessel's +side, and stood on deck where she could touch him. He did not know +that the lump of blackness almost beneath his hand was a breathing +woman; and if he had known, he would have disregarded her then. But +she knew him, from indistinct cap and the white pouch at his girdle to +the flat Highland shoes. + +Whether the Highlanders on the ship were watching for him to appear as +their signal, or he had some private admonition for them, they started +up from spots which Jeannette had thought vacant darkness, probably +armed and wrapped in their plaids. She did not know what he said to +them. One by one they got quickly over the ship's side. She did not +form any resolution, and neither did she hesitate; but, drawing tight +around her the plaidlike length of shawl which had served her nearly a +lifetime, she stood up ready to take her turn. + +Jeannette seemed to swallow her heart as she climbed over the rail. +The Highlanders were all in the boat except their colonel. He drew in +his breath with a startled sound, and she knew the sweep of her skirt +must have betrayed her. She expected to fall into the river; but her +hand took sure hold of a ladder of rope, and, creeping down backward, +she set her foot in the bateau. It was a large and steady open boat. +Some of the men were standing. She had entered the bow, and as Colonel +Fraser dropped in they cast off, and she sat down, finding a bench +as she had found foothold. The Highland officer was beside her. They +could not see each other's faces. She was not sure he had detected +her. The hardihood which had taken her beyond the French lines in +search of on whom she felt under her protection was no longer in her. +A cowering woman with a boatload of English soldiers palpitated under +the darkness. It was necessary only to steer; both tide and current +carried them steadily down. On the surface of the river, lines of dark +objects followed. A fleet of the enemy's transports was moving towards +Quebec. + +To most women country means home. Jeannette was tenaciously fond +of the gray old city of Quebec, but home to her was to be near that +Highland officer. Her humiliation passed into the very agony of +tenderness. To go wherever he was going was enough. She did not want +him to speak to her, or touch her, or give any sign that he knew +she was in the world. She wanted to sit still by his side under the +negation of darkness and be satisfied. Jeannette had never dreamed +how long the hours between turn of tide and dawn may be. They were the +principal part of her life. + +Keen stars held the sky at immeasurable heights. There was no mist. +The chill wind had swept the river clear like a great path. Within +reach of Jeannette's hand, but hidden from her, as most of us are +hidden from one another, sat one more solitary than herself. He had +not her robust body. Disease and anxiety had worn him away while he +was hopelessly besieging Quebec. In that last hour before the 13th of +September dawned, General Wolfe was groping down river toward one of +the most desperate military attempts in the history of the world. + +There was no sound but the rustle of the water, the stir of a foot as +some standing man shifted his weight, and the light click of metal +as guns in unsteady hands touched barrels. A voice, modulating rhythm +which Jeannette could not understand, began to speak. General Wolfe +was reciting an English poem. The strain upon his soul was more +than he could bear, and he relieved it by those low-uttered rhymes. +Jeannette did not know one word of English. The meaning which reached +her was a dirge, but a noble dirge; the death hymn of a human being +who has lived up to his capacities. She felt strangely influenced, +as by the neighborhood of some large angel, and at the same time the +tragedy of being alive overswept her. For one's duty is never all +done; or when we have accomplished it with painstaking care, we are +smitten through with finding that the greater things have passed us +by. + +The tide carried the boats near the great wall of rock. Woods made +denser shade on the background of night. The cautious murmur of the +speaker was cut short. + +"Who goes there?" came the sharp challenge of a French sentry. + +The soldiers were silent as dead men. + +"France!" answered Colonel Fraser in the same language. + +"Of what regiment?" + +"The Queen's." + +The sentry was satisfied. To the Queen's regiment, stationed at Cap +Rouge, belonged the duty of convoying provisions down to Quebec. He +did not further peril what he believed to be a French transport by +asking for the password. + +Jeannette breathed. So low had she sunk that she would have used her +language herself to get the Highland colonel past danger. + +It was fortunate for his general that he had the accent and readiness +of a Frenchman. Again they were challenged. They could see another +sentry running parallel with their course. + +"Provision boats," this time answered the Highlander. "Don't make a +noise. The English will hear us." + +That hint was enough, for an English sloop of war lay within sound of +their voices. + +With the swift tide the boats shot around a headland, and here was a +cove in the huge precipice, clothed with sere herbage and bushes and +a few trees; steep, with the hint of a once-used path across it, but +a little less perpendicular than the rest of the rock. No sentinel was +stationed at this place. + +The world was just beginning to come out of positive shadow into the +indistinctness of dawn. Current and tide were so strong that the boats +could not be steered directly to shore, but on the alluvial strip at +the base of this cove they beached themselves with such success as +they could. Twenty-four men sprung out and ran to the ascent. Their +muskets were slung upon their backs. A humid look was coming upon the +earth, and blurs were over the fading stars. The climbers separated, +each making his own way from point to point of the slippery cliff, and +swarms followed them as boat after boat discharged its load. The cove +by which he breached the stronghold of this continent, and which was +from that day to bear his name, cast its shadow on the gaunt, upturned +face of Wolfe. He waited while the troops in whom he put his trust, +with knotted muscles and panting breasts, lifted themselves to the +top. No orders were spoken. Wolfe had issued instructions the night +before, and England expected every man to do his duty. + +There was not enough light to show how Canada was taken. Jeannette +Descheneaux stepped on the sand, and the single thought which took +shape in her mind was that she must scale that ascent if the English +scaled it. + +The hope of escape to her own people did not animate her labor. She +had no hope of any sort. She felt only present necessity, which was to +climb where the Highland officer climbed. He was in front of her, and +took no notice of her until they reached a slippery wall where there +were no bushes. There he turned and caught her by the wrist, drawing +her up after him. Their faces came near together in the swimming +vapors of dawn. He had the bright look of determination. His eyes +shone. He was about to burst into the man's arena of glory. The woman, +whom he drew up because she was a woman, and because he regretted +having taken her prisoner, had the pallid look of a victim. Her tragic +black eyes and brows, and the hairs clinging in untidy threads +about her haggard cheeks instead of curling up with the damp as the +Highlandman's fleece inclined to do, worked an instant's compassion +in him. But his business was not the squiring of angular Frenchwomen. +Shots were heard at the top of the rock, a trampling rush, and then +exulting shouts. The English had taken Vergor's camp. + +The hand was gone from Jeannette's wrist,--the hand which gave her +such rapture and such pain by its firm fraternal grip. Colonel Fraser +leaped to the plain, and was in the midst of the skirmish. Cannon +spoke, like thunder rolling across one's head. A battery guarded by +the sentinels they had passed was aroused, and must be silenced. The +whole face of the cliff suddenly bloomed with scarlet uniforms. All +the men remaining in the boats went up as fire sweeps when carried +by the wind. Nothing could restrain them. They smelled gunpowder and +heard the noise of victory, and would have stormed heaven at that +instant. They surrounded Jeannette without seeing her, every man +looking up to the heights of glory, and passed her in fierce and +panting emulation. + +Jeannette leaned against the rough side of Wolfe's Cove. On the +inner surface of her eyelids she could see again the image of the +Highlandman stooping to help her, his muscular legs and neck showing +like a young god's in the early light. There she lost him, for he +forgot her. The passion of women whom nature has made unfeminine, and +who are too honest to stoop to arts, is one of the tragedies of the +world. + +Daylight broke reluctantly, with clouds mustering from the inverted +deep of the sky. A few drops of rain sprinkled the British uniforms as +battalions were formed. The battery which gave the first intimation +of danger to the French general, on the other side of Quebec, had been +taken and silenced. Wolfe and his officers hurried up the high plateau +and chose their ground. Then the troops advanced, marching by files, +Highland bagpipes screaming and droning, the earth reverberating with +a measured tread. As they moved toward Quebec they wheeled to form +their line of battle, in ranks three deep, and stretched across the +plain. The city was scarcely a mile away, but a ridge of ground still +hid it from sight. + +From her hiding-place in one of the empty houses behind Vergor's +tents, Jeannette Descheneaux watched the scarlet backs and the tartans +of the Highlanders grow smaller. She could also see the prisoners that +were taken standing under guard. As for herself, she felt that she +had no longer a visible presence, so easy had it been for her to move +among swarms of men and escape in darkness. She never had favored her +body with soft usage, but it trembled now in every part from muscular +strain. She was probably cold and hungry, but her poignant sensation +was that she had no friends. It did not matter to Jeannette that +history was being made before her, and one of the great battles of the +world was about to be fought. It only mattered that she should discern +the Fraser plaid as far as eye could follow it. There is no more +piteous thing than for one human being to be overpowered by the god in +another. + +She sat on the ground in the unfloored hut, watching through broken +chinking. There was a back door as well as a front door, hung on +wooden hinges, and she had pinned the front door as she came in. The +opening of the back door made Jeannette turn her head, though with +little interest in the comer. It was a boy, with a streak of blood +down his face and neck, and his clothes stained by the weather. He +had no hat on, and one of his shoes was missing. He put himself at +Jeannette's side without any hesitation, and joined her watch through +the broken chinking. A tear and a drop of scarlet raced down his +cheek, uniting as they dripped from his chin. + +"Have you been wounded?" inquired Jeannette. + +"It isn't the wound," he answered, "but that Captain Vergor has let +them take the heights. I heard something myself, and tried to wake +him. The pig turned over and went to sleep again." + +"Let me tie it up," said Jeannette. + +"He is shot in the heel and taken prisoner. I wish he had been shot in +the heart. He hopped out of bed and ran away when the English fired on +his tent. I have been trying to get past their lines to run to General +Montcalm; but they are everywhere," declared the boy, his chin shaking +and his breast swelling with grief. + +Jeannette turned her back on him, and found some linen about her +person which she could tear. She made a bandage for his head. It +comforted her to take hold of the little fellow and part his clotted +hair. + +"The skin of my head is torn," he admitted, while suffering the +attempted surgery. "If I had been taller, the bullet might have killed +me; and I would rather be killed than see the English on this rock, +marching to take Quebec. What will my father say? I am ashamed to look +him in the face and own I slept in the camp of Vergor last night. The +Le Moynes and Repentignys never let enemies get past them before. And +I knew that man was not keeping watch; he did not set any sentry." + +"Is it painful?" she inquired, wiping the bloody cut, which still +welled forth along its channel. + +The boy lifted his brimming eyes, and answered her from his deeper +hurt:-- + +"I don't know what to do. I think my father would make for General +Montcalm's camp if he were alone and could not attack the enemy's +rear; for something ought to be done as quickly as possible." + +Jeannette bandaged his head, the rain spattering through the broken +log house upon them both. + +"Who brought you here?" inquired Jacques. "There was nobody in these +houses last night, for I searched them myself." + +"I hid here before daybreak," she answered briefly. + +"But if you knew the English were coming, why did you not give the +alarm?" + +"I was their prisoner." + +"And where will you go now?" + +She looked towards the Plains of Abraham and said nothing. The open +chink showed Wolfe's six battalions of scarlet lines moving forward or +pausing, and the ridge above them thronging with white uniforms. + +"If you will trust yourself to me, mamoiselle," proposed Jacques, who +considered that it was not the part of a soldier or a gentleman to +leave any woman alone in this hut to take the chances of battle, and +particularly a woman who had bound up his head, "I will do my best to +help you inside the French lines." + +The singular woman did not reply to him, but continued looking through +the chink. Skirmishers were out. Puffs of smoke from cornfields and +knolls showed where Canadians and Indians hid, creeping to the flank +of the enemy. + +Jacques stooped down himself, and struck his hands together at these +sights. + +"Monsieur de Montcalm is awake, mademoiselle! And see our +sharpshooters picking them off! We can easily run inside the French +lines now. These English will soon be tumbled back the way they came +up." + +In another hour the group of houses was a roaring furnace. A +detachment of English light infantry, wheeled to drive out the +bushfighters, had lost and retaken it many times, and neither party +gave up the ready fortress until it was set on fire. Crumbling red +logs hissed in the thin rain, and smoke spread from them across the +sodden ground where Wolfe moved. The sick man had become an invincible +spirit. He flew along the ranks, waving his sword, the sleeve falling +away from his thin arm. The great soldier had thrown himself on this +venture without a chance of retreat, but every risk had been thought +of and met. He had a battalion guarding the landing. He had a force +far in the rear to watch the motions of the French at Cap Rouge. By +the arrangement of his front he had taken precautions against being +outflanked. And he knew his army was with him to a man. But Montcalm +rode up to meet him hampered by insubordinate confusion. + +Jeannette Descheneaux, carried along, with the boy, by Canadians and +Indians from the English rear to the Côte Ste. Geneviève, lay dazed in +the withered grass during the greater part of the action which decided +her people's hold on the New World. The ground resounded like a drum +with measured treading. The blaze and crash of musketry and cannon +blinded and deafened her; but when she lifted her head from the shock +of the first charge, the most instantaneous and shameful panic that +ever seized a French army had already begun. The skirmishers in +the bushes could not understand it. Smoke parted, and she saw the +white-and-gold French general trying to drive his men back. But they +evaded the horses of officers. + +Jacques rose, with the Canadians and Indians, to his knees. He had a +musket. Jeannette rose, also, as the Highlanders came sweeping on in +pursuit. She had scarcely been a woman to the bushfighters. They were +too eager in their aim to glance aside at a rawboned camp follower +in a wet shawl. Neither did the Highlanders distinguish from other +Canadian heads the one with a woman's braids and a faint shadowing of +hair at the corners of the mouth. They came on without suspecting +an ambush, and she heard their strange cries--"Cath-Shairm!" and +"Caisteal Duna!"--when the shock of a volley stopped the streaming +tartans. She saw the play of surprise and fury in those mountaineer +faces. They threw down their muskets, and turned on the ambushed +Canadians, short sword in hand. + +Never did knight receive the blow of the accolade as that crouching +woman took a Highland knife in her breast. For one breath she grasped +the back of it with both hands, and her rapt eyes met the horrified +eyes of Colonel Fraser. He withdrew the weapon, standing defenseless, +and a ball struck him, cutting the blood across his arm, and again he +was lost in the fury of battle, while Jeannette felt herself dragged +down the slope. + +She resisted. She heard a boy's voice pleading with her, but she got +up and tried to go back to the spot from which she had been dragged. +The Canadians and Indians were holding their ground. She heard their +muskets, but they were far behind her, and the great rout caught her +and whirled her. Officers on their horses were borne struggling along +in it. She fell down and was trampled on, but something helped her up. + +The flood of men poured along the front of the ramparts and down to +the bridge of boats on the St. Charles, or into the city walls through +the St. Louis and St. John gates. + +To Jeannette the world was far away. Yet she found it once more close +at hand, as she stood with her back against the lofty inner wall. The +mad crowd had passed, and gone shouting down the narrow streets. +But the St. Louis gate was still choked with fugitives when Montcalm +appeared, reeling on his horse, supported by a soldier on each side. +His white uniform was stained on the breast, and blood dripped from +the saddle. Jeannette heard the piercing cry of a little girl: +"Oh heavens! Oh heavens! The marquis is killed!" And she heard +the fainting general gasp, "It is nothing, it is nothing. Don't be +troubled for me, my children." + +She knew how he felt as he was led by. The indistinctness of the +opposite wall, which widened from the gate, was astonishing. And she +was troubled by the same little boy whose head she had tied up in +the log house. Jeannette looked obliquely down at him as she braced +herself with chill fingers, and discerned that he was claimed by a +weeping little girl to whom he yet paid no attention. + +"Let me help you, mademoiselle," he urged, troubling her. + +"Go away," said Jeannette. + +"But, mademoiselle, you have been badly hurt." + +"Go away," said Jeannette, and her limbs began to settle. She thought +of smiling at the children, but her features were already cast. The +English child held her on one side, and the French child on the other, +as she collapsed in a sitting posture. Tender nuns, going from friend +to foe, would find this stoical face against the wall. It was no +strange sight then. Canada was taken. + +Men with bloody faces were already running with barricades for the +gates. Wailing for Montcalm could be heard. + +The boy put his arm abound the girl and turned her eyes away. They ran +together up towards the citadel: England and France with their hands +locked; young Canada weeping, but having a future. + + + + +THE WINDIGO. + + +The cry of those rapids in Ste. Marie's River called the Sault could +be heard at all hours through the settlement on the rising shore and +into the forest beyond. Three quarters of a mile of frothing billows, +like some colossal instrument, never ceased playing music down an +inclined channel until the trance of winter locked it up. At August +dusk, when all that shaggy world was sinking to darkness, the gushing +monotone became very distinct. + +Louizon Cadotte and his father's young seignior, Jacques de +Repentigny, stepped from a birch canoe on the bank near the fort, two +Chippewa Indians following with their game. Hunting furnished no +small addition to the food supply of the settlement, for the English +conquest had brought about scarcity at this as well as other Western +posts. Peace was declared in Europe; but soldiers on the frontier, +waiting orders to march out at any time, were not abundantly supplied +with stores, and they let season after season go by, reluctant to put +in harvests which might be reaped by their successors. + +Jacques was barely nineteen, and Louizon was considerably older. But +the Repentignys had gone back to France after the fall of Quebec; and +five years of European life had matured the young seignior as decades +of border experience would never mature his half-breed tenant. Yet +Louizon was a fine dark-skinned fellow, well made for one of short +stature. He trod close by his tall superior with visible fondness; +enjoying this spectacle of a man the like of whom he had not seen on +the frontier. + +Jacques looked back, as he walked, at the long zigzag shadows on the +river. Forest fire in the distance showed a leaning column, black at +base, pearl-colored in the primrose air, like smoke from some gigantic +altar. He had seen islands in the lake under which the sky seemed to +slip, throwing them above the horizon in mirage, and trees standing +like detached bushes on a world rim of water. The Ste. Marie River was +a beautiful light green in color, and sunset and twilight played upon +it all the miracles of change. + +"I wish my father had never left this country," said young Repentigny, +feeling that spell cast by the wilderness. "Here is his place. He +should have withdrawn to the Sault, and accommodated himself to the +English, instead of returning to France. The service in other parts +of the world does not suit him. Plenty of good men have held to Canada +and their honor also." + +"Yes, yes," assented Louizon. "The English cannot be got rid of. For +my part, I shall be glad when this post changes hands. I am sick of +our officers." + +He scowled with open resentment. The seigniory house faced the parade +ground, and they could see against its large low mass, lounging on the +gallery, one each side of a window, the white uniforms of two French +soldiers. The window sashes, screened by small curtains across the +middle, were swung into the room; and Louizon's wife leaned on her +elbows across the sill, the rosy atmosphere of his own fire projecting +to view every ring of her bewitching hair, and even her long eyelashes +as she turned her gaze from side to side. + +It was so dark, and the object of their regard was so bright, that +these buzzing bees of Frenchmen did not see her husband until he ran +up the steps facing them. Both of them greeted him heartily. He felt +it a peculiar indignity that his wife's danglers forever passed their +good-will on to him; and he left them in the common hall, with his +father and the young seignior, and the two or three Indians who +congregated there every evening to ask for presents or to smoke. + +Louizon's wife met him in the middle of the broad low apartment where +he had been so proud to introduce her as a bride, and turned her +cheek to be kissed. She was not fond of having her lips touched. Her +hazel-colored hair was perfumed. She was so supple and exquisite, so +dimpled and aggravating, that the Chippewa in him longed to take her +by the scalp-lock of her light head; but the Frenchman bestowed the +salute. Louizon had married the prettiest woman in the settlement. +Life overflowed in her, so that her presence spread animation. Both +men and women paid homage to her. Her very mother-in-law was her +slave. And this was the stranger spectacle because Madame Cadotte +the senior, though born a Chippewa, did not easily make herself +subservient to anybody. + +The time had been when Louizon was proud of any notice this siren +conferred on him. But so exacting and tyrannical is the nature of man +that when he got her he wanted to keep her entirely to himself. From +his Chippewa mother, who, though treated with deference, had never +dared to disobey his father, he inherited a fond and jealous nature; +and his beautiful wife chafed it. Young Repentigny saw that she was +like a Parisian. But Louizon felt that she was a spirit too fine and +tantalizing for him to grasp, and she had him in her power. + +He hung his powderhorn behind the door, and stepped upon a stool to +put his gun on its rack above the fireplace. The fire showed his round +figure, short but well muscled, and the boyish petulance of his shaven +lip. The sun shone hot upon the Sault of an August noon, but morning +and night were cool, and a blaze was usually kept in the chimney. + +"You found plenty of game?" said his wife; and it was one of this +woman's wickedest charms that she could be so interested in her +companion of the moment. + +"Yes," he answered, scowling more, and thinking of the brace on the +gallery whom he had not shot, but wished to. + +She laughed at him. + +"Archange Cadotte," said Louizon, turning around on the stool before +he descended; and she spread out her skirts, taking two dancing steps +to indicate that she heard him. "How long am I to be mortified by your +conduct to Monsieur de Repentigny?" + +"Oh--Monsieur de Repentigny. It is now that boy from France, at whom I +have never looked." + +"The man I would have you look at, madame, you scarcely notice." + +"Why should I notice him? He pays little attention to me." + +"Ah, he is not one of your danglers, madame. He would not look at +another man's wife. He has had trouble himself." + +"So will you have if you scorch the backs of your legs," observed +Archange. + +Louizon stood obstinately on the stool and ignored the heat. He was in +the act of stepping down, but he checked it as she spoke. + +"Monsieur de Repentigny came back to this country to marry a young +English lady of Quebec. He thinks of her, not of you." + +"I am sure he is welcome," murmured Archange. "But it seems the young +English lady prefers to stay in Quebec." + +"She never looked at any other man, madame. She is dead." + +"No wonder. I should be dead, too, if I had looked at one stupid man +all my life." + +Louizon's eyes sparkled. "Madame, I will have you know that the +seignior of Sault Ste. Marie is entitled to your homage." + +"Monsieur, I will have you know that I do not pay homage to any man." + +"You, Archange Cadotte? You are in love with a new man every day." + +"Not in the least, monsieur. I only desire to have a new man in love +with me every day." + +Her mischievous mouth was a scarlet button in her face, and Louizon +leaped to the floor, and kicked the stool across the room. + +"The devil himself is no match at all for you!" + +"But I married him before I knew that," returned Archange; and Louizon +grinned in his wrath. + +"I don't like such women." + +"Oh yes, you do. Men always like women whom they cannot chain." + +"I have never tried to chain you." Her husband approached, shaking his +finger at her. "There is not another woman in the settlement who has +her way as you have. And see how you treat me!" + +"How do I treat you?" inquired Archange, sitting down and resigning +herself to statistics. + +"Ste. Marie! St. Joseph!" shouted the Frenchman. "How does she treat +me! And every man in the seigniory dangling at her apron string!" + +"You are mistaken. There is the young seignior; and there is the new +English commandant, who must be now within the seigniory, for they +expect him at the post to-morrow morning. It is all the same: if I +look at a man you are furious, and if I refuse to look at him you are +more furious still." + +Louizon felt that inward breaking up which proved to him that he could +not stand before the tongue of this woman. Groping for expression, he +declared,-- + +"If thou wert sickly or blind, I would be just as good to thee as when +thou wert a bride. I am not the kind that changes if a woman loses her +fine looks." + +"No doubt you would like to see me with the smallpox," suggested +Archange. "But it is never best to try a man too far." + +"You try me too far,--let me tell you that. But you shall try me no +further." + +The Indian appeared distinctly on his softer French features, as one +picture may be stamped over another. + +"Smoke a pipe, Louizon," urged the thorn in his flesh. "You are always +so much more agreeable when your mouth is stopped." + +But he left the room without looking at her again. Archange remarked +to herself that he would be better natured when his mother had given +him his supper; and she yawned, smiling at the maladroit creatures +whom she made her sport. Her husband was the best young man in the +settlement. She was entirely satisfied with him, and grateful to +him for taking the orphan niece of a poor post commandant, without +prospects since the conquest, and giving her sumptuous quarters and +comparative wealth; but she could not forbear amusing herself with his +masculine weaknesses. + +Archange was by no means a slave in the frontier household. She did +not spin, or draw water, or tend the oven. Her mother-in-law, Madame +Cadotte, had a hold on perennially destitute Chippewa women who could +be made to work for longer or shorter periods in a Frenchman's kitchen +or loom-house instead of with savage implements. Archange's bed had +ruffled curtains, and her pretty dresses, carefully folded, filled a +large chest. + +She returned to the high window sill, and watched the purple distances +growing black. She could smell the tobacco the men were smoking in the +open hall, and hear their voices. Archange knew what her mother-in-law +was giving the young seignior and Louizon for their supper. She could +fancy the officers laying down their pipes to draw to the board, also, +for the Cadottes kept open house all the year round. + +The thump of the Indian drum was added to the deep melody of the +rapids. There were always a few lodges of Chippewas about the Sault. +When the trapping season and the maple-sugar making were over and his +profits drunk up, time was the largest possession of an Indian. He +spent it around the door of his French brother, ready to fish or to +drink whenever invited. If no one cared to go on the river, he turned +to his hereditary amusements. Every night that the rapids were void of +torches showing where the canoes of white fishers darted, the thump of +the Indian drum and the yell of Indian dancers could be heard. + +Archange's mind was running on the new English garrison who were said +to be so near taking possession of the picketed fort, when she +saw something red on the parade ground. The figure stood erect and +motionless, gathering all the remaining light on its indistinct +coloring, and Archange's heart gave a leap at the hint of a military +man in a red uniform. She was all alive, like a whitefisher casting +the net or a hunter sighting game. It was Archange's nature, without +even taking thought, to turn her head on her round neck so that the +illuminated curls would show against a background of wall, and wreathe +her half-bare arms across the sill. To be looked at, to lure and +tantalize, was more than pastime. It was a woman's chief privilege. +Archange held the secret conviction that the priest himself could be +made to give her lighter penances by an angelic expression she could +assume. It is convenient to have large brown eyes and the trick of +casting them sidewise in sweet distress. + +But the Chippewa widow came in earlier than usual that evening, being +anxious to go back to the lodges to watch the dancing. Archange pushed +the sashes shut, ready for other diversion, and Michel Pensonneau +never failed to furnish her that. The little boy was at the widow's +heels. Michel was an orphan. + +"If Archange had children," Madame Cadotte had said to Louizon, "she +would not seek other amusement. Take the little Pensonneau lad that +his grandmother can hardly feed. He will give Archange something to +do." + +So Louizon brought home the little Pensonneau lad. Archange looked at +him, and considered that here was another person to wait on her. As to +keeping him clean and making clothes for him, they might as well have +expected her to train the sledge dogs. She made him serve her, but for +mothering he had to go to Madame Cadotte. Yet Archange far outweighed +Madame Cadotte with him. The labors put upon him by the autocrat of +the house were sweeter than mococks full of maple sugar from the hand +of the Chippewa housekeeper. At first Archange would not let him come +into her room. She dictated to him through door or window. But when he +grew fat with good food and was decently clad under Madame Cadotte's +hand, the great promotion of entering that sacred apartment was +allowed him. Michel came in whenever he could. It was his nightly +habit to follow the Chippewa widow there after supper, and watch her +brush Archange's hair. + +Michel stood at the end of the hearth with a roll of pagessanung or +plum-leather in his fist. His cheeks had a hard garnered redness like +polished apples. The Chippewa widow set her husband carefully against +the wall. The husband was a bundle about two feet long, containing +her best clothes tied up in her dead warrior's sashes and rolled in a +piece of cloth. His armbands and his necklace of bear's-claws appeared +at the top as a grotesque head. This bundle the widow was obliged to +carry with her everywhere. To be seen without it was a disgrace, until +that time when her husband's nearest relations should take it away +from her and give her new clothes, thus signifying that she had +mourned long enough to satisfy them. As the husband's relations +were unable to cover themselves, the prospect of her release seemed +distant. For her food she was glad to depend on her labor in the +Cadotte household. There was no hunter to supply her lodge now. + +The widow let down Archange's hair and began to brush it. The long +mass was too much for its owner to handle. It spread around her like +a garment, as she sat on her chair, and its ends touched the floor. +Michel thought there was nothing more wonderful in the world than this +glory of hair, its rings and ripples shining in the firelight. The +widow's jaws worked in unobtrusive rumination on a piece of pleasantly +bitter fungus, the Indian substitute for quinine, which the Chippewas +called waubudone. As she consoled herself much with this medicine, +and her many-syllabled name was hard to pronounce, Archange called her +Waubudone, an offense against her dignity which the widow might not +have endured from anybody else, though she bore it without a word from +this soft-haired magnate. + +As she carefully carded the mass of hair lock by lock, thinking it +an unnecessary nightly labor, the restless head under her hands +was turned towards the portable husband. Archange had not much +imagination, but to her the thing was uncanny. She repeated what she +said every night:-- + +"Do stand him in the hall and let him smell the smoke, Waubudone." + +"No," refused the widow. + +"But I don't want him in my bedroom. You are not obliged to keep that +thing in your sight all the time." + +"Yes," said the widow. + +A dialect of mingled French and Chippewa was what they spoke, and +Michel knew enough of both tongues to follow the talk. + +"Are they never going to take him from you? If they don't take him +from you soon, I shall go to the lodges and speak to his people about +it myself." + +The Chippewa widow usually passed over this threat in silence; but, +threading a lock with the comb, she now said,-- + +"Best not go to the lodges awhile." + +"Why?" inquired Archange. "Have the English already arrived? Is the +tribe dissatisfied?" + +"Don't know that." + +"Then why should I not go to the lodges?" + +"Windigo at the Sault now." + +Archange wheeled to look at her face. The widow was unmoved. She +was little older than Archange, but her features showed a stoical +harshness in the firelight. Michel, who often went to the lodges, +widened his mouth and forgot to fill it with plum-leather. There was +no sweet which Michel loved as he did this confection of wild plums +and maple sugar boiled down and spread on sheets of birch bark. Madame +Cadotte made the best pagessanung at the Sault. + +"Look at the boy," laughed Archange. "He will not want to go to the +lodges any more after dark." + +The widow remarked, noting Michel's fat legs and arms,-- + +"Windigo like to eat him." + +"I would kill a windigo," declared Michel, in full revolt. + +"Not so easy to kill a windigo. Bad spirits help windigos. If man kill +windigo and not tear him to pieces, he come to life again." + +Archange herself shuddered at such a tenacious creature. She was less +superstitious than the Chippewa woman, but the Northwest had its human +terrors as dark as the shadow of witchcraft. + +Though a Chippewa was bound to dip his hand in the war kettle and +taste the flesh of enemies after victory, there was nothing he +considered more horrible than a confirmed cannibal. He believed that +a person who had eaten human flesh to satisfy hunger was never +afterwards contented with any other kind, and, being deranged and +possessed by the spirit of a beast, he had to be killed for the safety +of the community. The cannibal usually became what he was by stress +of starvation: in the winter when hunting failed and he was far from +help, or on a journey when provisions gave out, and his only choice +was to eat a companion or die. But this did not excuse him. As soon as +he was detected the name of "windigo" was given him, and if he did not +betake himself again to solitude he was shot or knocked on the head +at the first convenient opportunity. Archange remembered one such +wretched creature who had haunted the settlement awhile, and then +disappeared. His canoe was known, and when it hovered even distantly +on the river every child ran to its mother. The priest was less +successful with this kind of outcast than with any other barbarian on +the frontier. + +"Have you seen him, Waubudone?" inquired Archange. "I wonder if it is +the same man who used to frighten us?" + +"This windigo a woman. Porcupine in her. She lie down and roll up and +hide her head when you drive her off." + +"Did you drive her off?" + +"No. She only come past my lodge in the night." + +"Did you see her?" + +"No, I smell her." + +Archange had heard of the atmosphere which windigos far gone in +cannibalism carried around them. She desired to know nothing more +about the poor creature, or the class to which the poor creature +belonged, if such isolated beings may be classed. The Chippewa +widow talked without being questioned, however, preparing to reduce +Archange's mass of hair to the compass of a nightcap. + +"My grandmother told me there was a man dreamed he had to eat seven +persons. He sat by the fire and shivered. If his squaw wanted meat, he +quarreled with her. 'Squaw, take care. Thou wilt drive me so far that +I shall turn windigo.'" + +People who did not give Archange the keen interest of fascinating them +were a great weariness to her. Humble or wretched human life filled +her with disgust. She could dance all night at the weekly dances, +laughing in her sleeve at girls from whom she took the best partners. +But she never helped nurse a sick child, and it made her sleepy to +hear of windigos and misery. Michel wanted to squat by the chimney and +listen until Louizon came in; but she drove him out early. Louizon +was kind to the orphan, who had been in some respects a failure, and +occasionally let him sleep on blankets or skins by the hearth instead +of groping to the dark attic. And if Michel ever wanted to escape the +attic, it was to-night, when a windigo was abroad. But Louizon did not +come. + +It must have been midnight when Archange sat up in bed, startled out +of sleep by her mother-in-law, who held a candle between the curtains. +Madame Cadotte's features were of a mild Chippewa type, yet the +restless aboriginal eye made Archange uncomfortable with its anxiety. + +"Louizon is still away," said his mother. + +"Perhaps he went whitefishing after he had his supper." The young wife +yawned and rubbed her eyes, beginning to notice that her husband might +be doing something unusual. + +"He did not come to his supper." + +"Yes, mama. He came in with Monsieur de Repentigny." + +"I did not see him. The seignior ate alone." + +Archange stared, fully awake. "Where does the seignior say he is?" + +"The seignior does not know. They parted at the door." + +"Oh, he has gone to the lodges to watch the dancing." + +"I have been there. No one has seen him since he set out to hunt this +morning." + +"Where are Louizon's canoemen?" + +"Jean Boucher and his son are at the dancing. They say he came into +this house." + +Archange could not adjust her mind to anxiety without the suspicion +that her mother-in-law might be acting as the instrument of Louizon's +resentment. The huge feather bed was a tangible comfort interposed +betwixt herself and calamity. + +"He was sulky to-night," she declared. "He has gone up to sleep in +Michel's attic to frighten me." + +"I have been there. I have searched the house." + +"But are you sure it was Michel in the bed?" + +"There was no one. Michel is here." + +Archange snatched the curtain aside, and leaned out to see the orphan +sprawled on a bearskin in front of the collapsing logs. He had pushed +the sashes inward from the gallery and hoisted himself over the high +sill after the bed drapery was closed for the night, for the window +yet stood open. Madame Cadotte sheltered the candle she carried, but +the wind blew it out. There was a rich glow from the fireplace upon +Michel's stuffed legs and arms, his cheeks, and the full parted lips +through which his breath audibly flowed. The other end of the room, +lacking the candle, was in shadow. The thump of the Indian drum could +still be heard, and distinctly and more distinctly, as if they were +approaching the house, the rapids. + +Both women heard more. They had not noticed any voice at the window +when they were speaking themselves, but some offensive thing scented +the wind, and they heard, hoarsely spoken in Chippewa from the +gallery,-- + +"How fat he is!" + +Archange, with a gasp, threw herself upon her mother-in-law for +safety, and Madame Cadotte put both arms and the smoking candle around +her. A feeble yet dexterous scramble on the sill resulted in something +dropping into the room. It moved toward the hearth glow, a gaunt +vertebrate body scarcely expanded by ribs, but covered by a red +blanket, and a head with deathlike features overhung by strips of +hair. This vision of famine leaned forward and indented Michel with +one finger, croaking again,-- + +"How fat he is!" + +The boy roused himself, and, for one instant stupid and apologetic, +was going to sit up and whine. He saw what bent over him, and, +bristling with unimaginable revolutions of arms and legs, he yelled a +yell which seemed to sweep the thing back through the window. + +Next day no one thought of dancing or fishing or of the coming +English. Frenchmen and Indians turned out together to search for +Louizon Cadotte. Though he never in his life had set foot to any +expedition without first notifying his household, and it was not the +custom to hunt alone in the woods, his disappearance would not have +roused the settlement in so short a time had there been no windigo +hanging about the Sault. It was told that the windigo, who entered his +house again in the night, must have made way with him. + +Jacques Repentigny heard this with some amusement. Of windigos he had +no experience, but he had hunted and camped much of the summer with +Louizon. + +"I do not think he would let himself be knocked on the head by a +woman," said Jacques. + +"White chief doesn't know what helps a windigo," explained a Chippewa; +and the canoeman Jean Boucher interpreted him. "Bad spirit makes a +windigo strong as a bear. I saw this one. She stole my whitefish and +ate them raw." + +"Why didn't you give her cooked food when you saw her?" demanded +Jacques. + +"She would not eat that now. She likes offal better." + +"Yes, she was going to eat me," declared Michel Pensonneau. "After +she finished Monsieur Louizon, she got through the window to carry me +off." + +Michel enjoyed the windigo. Though he strummed on his lip and mourned +aloud whenever Madame Cadotte was by, he felt so comfortably full of +food and horror, and so important with his story, that life threatened +him with nothing worse than satiety. + +While parties went up the river and down the river, and talked about +the chutes in the rapids where a victim could be sucked down to death +in an instant, or about tracing the windigo's secret camp, Archange +hid herself in the attic. She lay upon Michel's bed and wept, or +walked the plank floor. It was no place for her. At noon the bark roof +heated her almost to fever. The dormer windows gave her little air, +and there was dust as well as something like an individual sediment of +the poverty from which the boy had come. Yet she could endure the loft +dungeon better than the face of the Chippewa mother who blamed her, +or the bluff excitement of Monsieur Cadotte. She could hear his voice +from time to time, as he ran in for spirits or provisions for parties +of searchers. And Archange had aversion, like the instinct of a maid, +to betraying fondness for her husband. She was furious with him, also, +for causing her pain. When she thought of the windigo, of the rapids, +of any peril which might be working his limitless absence, she set +clenched hands in her loosened hair and trembled with hysterical +anguish. But the enormity of his behavior if he were alive made her +hiss at the rafters. "Good, monsieur! Next time I will have four +officers. I will have the entire garrison sitting along the gallery! +Yes, and they shall be English, too. And there is one thing you will +never know, besides." She laughed through her weeping. "You will never +know I made eyes at a windigo." + +The preenings and posings of a creature whose perfections he once +thought were the result of a happy chance had made Louizon roar. She +remembered all their life together, and moaned, "I will say this: +he was the best husband that any girl ever had. We scarcely had a +disagreement. But to be the widow of a man who is eaten up--O Ste. +Marie!" + +In the clear August weather the wide river seemed to bring its +opposite shores nearer. Islands within a stone's throw of the +settlement, rocky drops in a boiling current, vividly showed their +rich foliage of pines. On one of these islands Father Dablon and +Father Marquette had built their first mission chapel; and though they +afterwards removed it to the mainland, the old tracery of foundation +stones could still be seen. The mountains of Lake Superior showed like +a cloud. On the ridge above fort and houses the Chippewa lodges were +pleasant in the sunlight, sending ribbons of smoke from their camp +fires far above the serrated edge of the woods. Naked Indian children +and their playmates of the settlement shouted to one another, as they +ran along the river margin, threats of instant seizure by the windigo. +The Chippewa widow, holding her husband in her arms, for she was +not permitted to hang him on her back, stood and talked with her +red-skinned intimates of the lodges. The Frenchwomen collected at the +seigniory house. As for the men of the garrison, they were obliged +to stay and receive the English then on the way from Detour. But +they came out to see the boats off with the concern of brothers, and +Archange's uncle, the post commandant, embraced Monsieur Cadotte. + +The priest and Jacques Repentigny did not speak to each other about +that wretched creature whose hoverings around the Sault were connected +with Louizon Cadotte's disappearance. But the priest went with +Louizon's father down the river, and Jacques led the party which took +the opposite direction. Though so many years had passed since Father +Dablon and Father Marquette built the first bark chapel, their +successor found his work very little easier than theirs had been. + +A canoe was missing from the little fleet usually tied alongshore, but +it was not the one belonging to Louizon. The young seignior took that +one, having Jean Boucher and Jean's son to paddle for him. No other +man of Sault Ste. Marie could pole up the rapids or paddle down them +as this expert Chippewa could. He had been baptized with a French +name, and his son after him, but no Chippewa of pure blood and name +looked habitually as he did into those whirlpools called the chutes, +where the slip of a paddle meant death. Yet nobody feared the rapids. +It was common for boys and girls to flit around near shore in birch +canoes, balancing themselves and expertly dipping up whitefish. + +Jean Boucher thrust out his boat from behind an island, and, turning +it as a fish glides, moved over thin sheets of water spraying upon +rocks. The fall of the Ste. Marie is gradual, but even at its upper +end there is a little hill to climb. Jean set his pole into the stone +floor of the river, and lifted the vessel length by length from crest +to crest of foam. His paddles lay behind him, and his arms were bare +to the elbows, showing their strong red sinews. He had let his hair +grow like a Frenchman's, and it hung forward shading his hatless +brows. A skin apron was girded in front of him to meet waves which +frothed up over the canoe's high prow. Blacksmith of the waters, he +beat a path between juts of rock; struggling to hold a point with the +pole, calling a quick word to his helper, and laughing as he forged +his way. Other voyagers who did not care to tax themselves with this +labor made a portage with their canoes alongshore, and started above +the glassy curve where the river bends down to its leap. + +Gros Cap rose in the sky, revealing its peak in bolder lines as the +searchers pushed up the Ste. Marie, exploring mile after mile of pine +and white birch and fantastic rock. The shaggy bank stooped to them, +the illimitable glory of the wilderness witnessing a little procession +of boats like chips floating by. + +It was almost sunset when they came back, the tired paddlers keeping +near that shore on which they intended to land. No trace of Louizon +Cadotte could be found; and those who had not seen the windigo were +ready to declare that there was no such thing about the Sault, when, +just above the rapids, she appeared from the dense up-slope of forest. + +Jacques Repentigny's canoe had kept the lead, but a dozen light-bodied +Chippewas sprung on shore and rushed past him into the bushes. + +The woman had disappeared in underbrush, but, surrounded by hunters +in full chase, she came running out, and fell on her hands, making +a hoarse noise in her throat. As she looked up, all the marks in her +aged aboriginal face were distinct to Jacques Repentigny. The sutures +in her temples were parted. She rolled herself around in a ball, and +hid her head in her dirty red blanket. Any wild beast was in harmony +with the wilderness, but this sick human being was a blot upon it. +Jacques felt the compassion of a god for her. Her pursuers were after +her, and the thud of stones they threw made him heartsick, as if the +thing were done to the woman he loved. + +"Let her alone!" he commanded fiercely. + +"Kill her!" shouted the hunters. "Hit the windigo on the head!" + +All that world of northern air could not sweeten her, but Jacques +picked her up without a thought of her offensiveness and ran to his +canoe. The bones resisted him; the claws scratched at him through her +blanket. Jean Boucher lifted a paddle to hit the creature as soon as +she was down. + +"If you strike her, I will kill you!" warned Jacques, and he sprung +into the boat. + +The superstitious Chippewas threw themselves madly into their canoes +to follow. It would go hard, but they would get the windigo and +take the young seignior out of her spell. The Frenchmen, with man's +instinct for the chase, were in full cry with them. + +Jean Boucher laid down his paddle sulkily, and his son did the same. +Jacques took a long pistol from his belt and pointed it at the old +Indian. + +"If you don't paddle for life, I will shoot you." And his eyes were +eyes which Jean respected as he never had respected anything before. +The young man was a beautiful fellow. If he wanted to save a windigo, +why, the saints let him. The priest might say a good word about it +when you came to think, also. + +"Where shall I paddle to?" inquired Jean Boucher, drawing in his +breath. The canoe leaped ahead, grazing hands stretched out to seize +it. + +"To the other side of the river." + +"Down the rapids?" + +"Yes." + +"Go down rough or go down smooth?" + +"Rough--rough--where they cannot catch you." + +The old canoeman snorted. He would like to see any of them catch him. +They were straining after him, and half a dozen canoes shot down that +glassy slide which leads to the rocks. + +It takes three minutes for a skillful paddler to run that dangerous +race of three quarters of a mile. Jean Boucher stood at the prow, and +the waves boiled as high as his waist. Jacques dreaded only that the +windigo might move and destroy the delicate poise of the boat; but she +lay very still. The little craft quivered from rock to rock without +grazing one, rearing itself over a great breaker or sinking under a +crest of foam. Now a billow towered up, and Jean broke it with his +paddle, shouting his joy. Showers fell on the woman coiled in the +bottom of the boat. They were going down very rough indeed. Yells from +the other canoes grew less distinct. Jacques turned his head, keeping +a true balance, and saw that their pursuers were skirting toward the +shore. They must make a long detour to catch him after he reached the +foot of the fall. + +The roar of awful waters met him as he looked ahead. Jean Boucher +drove the paddle down and spoke to his son. The canoe leaned sidewise, +sucked by the first chute, a caldron in the river bed where all Ste. +Marie's current seemed to go down, and whirl, and rise, and froth, and +roar. + +"Ha!" shouted Jean Boucher. His face glistened with beads of water and +the glory of mastering Nature. + +Scarcely were they past the first pit when the canoe plunged on the +verge of another. This sight was a moment of madness. The great chute, +lined with moving water walls and floored with whirling foam, bellowed +as if it were submerging the world. Columns of green water sheeted in +white rose above it and fell forward on the current. As the canoemen +held on with their paddles and shot by through spume and rain, every +soul in the boat exulted except the woman who lay flat on its keel. +The rapids gave a voyager the illusion that they were running uphill +to meet him, that they were breasting and opposing him instead of +carrying him forward. There was scarcely a breath between riding the +edge of the bottomless pit and shooting out on clear water. The rapids +were past, and they paddled for the other shore, a mile away. + +On the west side the green water seemed turning to fire, but as the +sunset went out, shadows sunk on the broad surface. The fresh evening +breath of a primitive world blew across it. Down river the channel +turned, and Jacques could see nothing of the English or of the other +party. His pursuers had decided to land at the settlement. + +It was twilight when Jean Boucher brought the canoe to pine woods +which met them at the edge of the water. The young Repentigny had been +wondering what he should do with his windigo. There was no settlement +on this shore, and had there been one it would offer no hospitality to +such as she was. His canoemen would hardly camp with her, and he had +no provisions. To keep her from being stoned or torn to pieces he had +made an inconsiderate flight. But his perplexity dissolved in a moment +before the sight of Louizon Cadotte coming out of the woods towards +them, having no hunting equipments and looking foolish. + +"Where have you been?" called Jacques. + +"Down this shore," responded Louizon. + +"Did you take a canoe and come out here last night?" + +"Yes, monsieur. I wished to be by myself. The canoe is below. I was +coming home." + +"It is time you were coming home, when all the men in the settlement +are searching for you, and all the women trying to console your mother +and your wife." + +"My wife--she is not then talking with any one on the gallery?" +Louizon's voice betrayed gratified revenge. + +"I do not know. But there is a woman in this canoe who might talk on +the gallery and complain to the priest against a man who has got her +stoned on his account." + +Louizon did not understand this, even when he looked at the heap of +dirty blanket in the canoe. + +"Who is it?" he inquired. + +"The Chippewas call her a windigo. They were all chasing her for +eating you up. But now we can take her back to the priest, and they +will let her alone when they see you. Where is your canoe?" + +"Down here among the bushes," answered Louizon. He went to get it, +ashamed to look the young seignior in the face. He was light-headed +from hunger and exposure, and what followed seemed to him afterwards a +piteous dream. + +"Come back!" called the young seignior, and Louizon turned back. The +two men's eyes met in a solemn look. + +"Jean Boucher says this woman is dead." + +Jean Boucher stood on the bank, holding the canoe with one hand, and +turning her unresisting face with the other. Jacques and Louizon took +off their hats. + +They heard the cry of the whip-poor-will. The river had lost all its +green and was purple, and purple shadows lay on the distant mountains +and opposite ridge. Darkness was mercifully covering this poor +demented Indian woman, overcome by the burdens of her life, aged +without being venerable, perhaps made hideous by want and sorrow. + +When they had looked at her in silence, respecting her because she +could no longer be hurt by anything in the world, Louizon whispered +aside to his seignior,-- + +"What shall we do with her?" + +"Bury her," the old canoeman answered for him. + +One of the party yet thought of taking her back to the priest. But she +did not belong to priests and rites. Jean Boucher said they could dig +in the forest mould with a paddle, and he and his son would make her a +grave. The two Chippewas left the burden to the young men. + +Jacques Repentigny and Louizon Cadotte took up the woman who, perhaps +had never been what they considered woman; who had missed the good, +and got for her portion the ignorance and degradation of the world; +yet who must be something to the Almighty, for he had sent youth and +love to pity and take care of her in her death. They carried her into +the woods between them. + + + + +THE KIDNAPED BRIDE. + +(For this story, little changed from the form in which it was handed +down to him, I am indebted to Dr. J.F. Snyder of Virginia, Illinois, +a descendant of the Saucier family. Even the title remains unchanged, +since he insisted on keeping the one always used by his uncle, Mathieu +Saucier. "Mon Oncle Mathieu," he says, "I knew well, and often sat +with breathless interest listening to his narration of incidents +in the early settlement of the Bottom lands. He was a very quiet, +dignified, and unobtrusive gentleman, and in point of common sense and +intelligence much above the average of the race to which he belonged; +but, like all the rest of the French stock, woefully wanting in energy +and never in a hurry. He was a splendid fiddler, and consequently a +favorite with all, especially the young folks, who easily pressed him +into service on all occasions to play for their numerous dances. He +died at Prairie du Pont, in 1863, at the age of eighty-one years. +His mother, Manette Le Compt, then a young girl, was one of the +bridesmaids of the kidnaped bride.") + + +Yes, the marshes were then in a chain along the foot of the bluffs: +Grand Marais, Marais de Bois Coupé, Marais de l'Ourse, Marais Perdu; +with a rigolé here and there, straight as a canal, to carry the water +into the Mississippi. You do not see Cahokia beautiful as it was when +Monsieur St. Ange de Bellerive was acting as governor of the Illinois +Territory, and waiting at Fort Chartres for the British to take +possession after the conquest. Some people had indeed gone off to +Ste. Grenevieve, and to Pain Court, that you now call Sah Loui', where +Pontiac was afterwards buried under sweetbrier, and is to-day trampled +under pavements. An Indian killed Pontiac between Cahokia and Prairie +du Pont. When he rose from his body and saw it was not a British +knife, but a red man's tomahawk, he was not a chief who would lie +still and bear it in silence. Yes, I have heard that he has been +seen walking through the grapevine tangle, all bleached as if the bad +redness was burned out of him. But the priest will tell you better, my +son. Do not believe such tales. + +Besides, no two stories are alike. Pontiac was killed in his French +officer's uniform, which Monsieur de Montcalm gave him, and half the +people who saw him walking declared he wore that, while the rest swore +he was in buckskins and a blanket. You see how it is. A veritable +ghost would always appear the same, and not keep changing its clothes +like a vain girl. Paul Le Page had a fit one night from seeing the +dead chief with feathers in his hair, standing like stone in the white +French uniform. But do not credit such things. + +It was half a dozen years before Pontiac's death that Celeste Barbeau +was kidnaped on her wedding day. She lived at Prairie du Pont; and +though Prairie du Pont is but a mile and a half south of Cahokia, +the road was not as safe then as it now is. My mother was one of the +bridesmaids; she has told it over to me a score of times. The wedding +was to be in the church; the same church that now stands on the east +side of the square. And on the south side of the square was the old +auberge. Claudis Beauvois said you could get as good wines at that +tavern as you could in New Orleans. But the court-house was not +built until 1795. The people did not need a court-house. They had no +quarrels among themselves which the priest could not settle, and +after the British conquest their only enemies were those Puants, the +Pottawattamie Indians, who took the English side, and paid no regard +when peace was declared, but still tormented the French because there +was no military power to check them. You see the common fields across +the rigolé. The Puants stole stock from the common fields, they +trampled down crops, and kidnaped children and even women, to be +ransomed for so many horses each. The French tried to be friendly, and +with presents and good words to induce the Puants to leave. But those +Puants--Oh, they were British Indians: nothing but whipping would take +the impudence out of them. + +Celeste Barbeau's father and mother lived at Prairie du Pont, and +Alexis Barbeau was the richest man in this part of the American +Bottom. When Alexis Barbeau was down on his knees at mass, people used +to say he counted his money instead of his beads; it was at least as +dear to him as religion. And when he came au Caho',[1] he hadn't a +word for a poor man. At Prairie du Pont he had built himself a fine +brick house; the bricks were brought from Philadelphia by way of New +Orleans. You have yourself seen it many a time, and the crack down +the side made by the great earthquake of 1811. There he lived like an +estated gentleman, for Prairie du Pont was then nothing but a cluster +of tenants around his feet. It was after his death that the village +grew. Celeste did not stay at Prairie du Pont; she was always au +Caho', with her grandmother and grandfather, the old Barbeaus. + +Along the south bank of this rigolé which bounds the north end of +Caho' were all the pleasantest houses then: rez-de-chaussée, of +course, but large; with dormer windows in the roofs; and high of +foundation, having flights of steps going up to the galleries. For +though the Mississippi was a mile away in those days, and had not yet +eaten in to our very sides, it often came visiting. I have seen this +grassy-bottomed rigolé many a time swimming with fifteen feet of +water, and sending ripples to the gallery steps. Between the marais +and the Mississippi, the spring rains were a perpetual danger. There +are men who want the marshes all filled up. They say it will add to us +on one side what the great river is taking from us on the other; but +myself--I would never throw in a shovelful: God made this world; it is +good enough; and when the water rises we can take to boats. + +The Le Compts lived in this very house, and the old Barbeaus lived +next, on the corner, where this rigolé road crosses the street running +north and south. Every house along the rigolé was set in spacious +grounds, with shade trees and gardens, and the sloping lawns blazed +with flowers. My mother said it was much prettier than Kaskaskia; not +crowded with traffic; not overrun with foreigners. Everybody seemed +to be making a fête, to be visiting or receiving visits. At sunset the +fiddle and the banjo began their melody. The young girls would gather +at Barbeau's or Le Compt's or Pensonneau's--at any one of a dozen +places, and the young men would follow. It was no trouble to have +a dance every evening, and on feast days and great days there were +balls, of course. The violin ran in my family. Celeste Barbeau would +call across the hedge to my mother,-- + +"Manette, will Monsieur Le Compt play for us again to-night?" + +And Monsieur Le Compt or anybody who could handle a bow would play for +her. Celeste was the life of the place: she sang like a lark, she was +like thistledown in the dance, she talked well, and was so handsome +that a stranger from New Orleans stopped in the street to gaze after +her. At the auberge he said he was going au Pay,[2] but after he saw +Celeste Barbeau he stayed in Caho'. I have heard my mother tell--who +often saw it combed out--that Celeste's long black hair hung below her +knees, though it was so curly that half its length was taken up by the +natural crêping of the locks. + +The old French women, especially about Pain Court and Caho', loved +to go into their children's bedrooms and sit on the side of the bed, +telling stories half the night. It was part of the general good time. +And thus they often found out what the girls were thinking about; for +women of experience need only a hint. It is true old Madame Barbeau +had never been even au Kaw;[3] but one may live and grow wise without +crossing the rigolés north and south, or the bluffs and river east and +west. + +"Gra'mère, Manette is sleepy," Celeste would say, when my mother was +with her. + +"Well, I will go to my bed," the grandmother would promise. But still +she sat and joined in the chatter. Sometimes the girls would doze, and +wake in the middle of a long tale. But Madame Barbeau heard more than +she told, for she said to her husband:-- + +"It may come to pass that the widow Chartrant's Gabriel will be making +proposals to Alexis for little Celeste." + +"Poor lad," said the grandfather, "he has nothing to back his +proposals with. It will do him no good." + +And so it proved. Gabriel Chartrant was the leader of the young men +as Celeste was of the girls. But he only inherited the cedar house +his mother lived in. Those cedar houses were built in Caho' without +an ounce of iron; each cedar shingle was held to its place with cedar +pegs, and the boards of the floors fastened down in the same manner. +They had their galleries, too, all tightly pegged to place. Gabriel +was obliged to work, but he was so big he did not mind that. He was +made very straight, with a high-lifted head and a full chest. He could +throw any man in a wrestling match. And he was always first with +a kindness, and would nurse the sick, and he was not afraid of +contagious diseases or of anything. Gabriel could match Celeste as a +dancer, but it was not likely Alexis Barbeau would find him a match +in any other particular. And it grew more unlikely, every day that the +man from New Orleans spent in Caho'. + +The stranger said his name was Claudis Beauvois, and he was interested +in great mercantile houses both in Philadelphia and New Orleans, +and had come up the river to see the country. He was about fifty, a +handsome, easy man, with plenty of fine clothes and money, and before +he had been at the tavern a fortnight the hospitable people were +inviting him everywhere, and he danced with the youngest of them all. +There was about him what the city alone gives a man, and the mothers, +when they saw his jewels, considered that there was only one drawback +to marrying their daughters to Claudis Beauvois: his bride must travel +far from Caho'. + +But it was plain whose daughter he had fixed his mind upon, and Alexis +Barbeau would not make any difficulty about parting with Celeste. +She had lived away from him so much since her childhood that he would +scarcely miss her; and it was better to have a daughter well settled +in New Orleans than hampered by a poor match in her native village. +And this was what Gabriel Chartrant was told when he made haste to +propose for Celeste about the same time. + +"I have already accepted for my daughter much more gratifying offers +than any you can make. The banns will be put up next Sunday, and in +three weeks she will be Madame Beauvois." + +When Celeste heard this she was beside herself. She used to tell my +mother that Monsieur Beauvois walked as if his natural gait was on all +fours, and he still took to it when he was not watched. His shoulders +were bent forward, his hands were in his pockets, and he studied the +ground. She could not endure him. But the customs were very strict in +the matter of marriage. No French girl in those days could be so bold +as to reject the husband her father picked, and own that she preferred +some one else. Celeste was taken home to get ready for her wedding. +She hung on my mother's neck when choosing her for a bridesmaid, and +neither of the girls could comfort the other. Madame Barbeau was a fat +woman who loved ease, and never interfered with Alexis. She would +be disturbed enough by settling her daughter without meddling about +bridegrooms. The grandfather and grandmother were sorry for Gabriel +Chartrant, and tearful over Celeste; still, when you are forming +an alliance for your child, it is very imprudent to disregard great +wealth and by preference give her to poverty. Their son Alexis +convinced them of this; and he had always prospered. + +So the banns were put up in church for three weeks, and all Cahokia +was invited to the grand wedding. Alexis Barbeau regretted there was +not time to send to New Orleans for much that he wanted to fit his +daughter out and provide for his guests. + +"If he had sent there a month ago for some certainties about the +bridegroom it might be better," said Paul Le Page. "I have a cousin +in New Orleans who could have told us if he really is the great man he +pretends to be." But the women said it was plain Paul Le Page was one +of those who had wanted Celeste himself. The suspicious nature is a +poison. + +Gabriel Chartrant did not say anything for a week, but went along the +streets haggard, though with his head up, and worked as if he meant +to kill himself. The second week he spent his nights forming desperate +plans. The young men followed him as they always did, and they held +their meeting down the rigolé, clustered together on the bank. They +could hear the frogs croak in the marais; it was dry, and the water +was getting low. Gabriel used to say he never heard a frog croak +afterwards without a sinking of the heart. It was the voice of misery. +But Gabriel had strong partisans in this council. Le Maudit Pensonneau +offered with his own hand to kill that interloping stranger whom he +called the old devil, and argued the matter vehemently when his offer +was declined. Le Maudit was a wild lad, so nervous that he stopped +at nothing in his riding or his frolics; and so got the name of the +Bewitched.[4] + +But the third week, Gabriel said he had decided on a plan which might +break off this detestable marriage if the others would help him. They +all declared they would do anything for him, and he then told them he +had privately sent word about it by Manette to Celeste; and Celeste +was willing to have it or any plan attempted which would prevent the +wedding. + +"We will dress ourselves as Puants," said Gabriel, "and make a rush on +the wedding party on the way to church, and carry off the bride." + +Le Maudit Pensonneau sprung up and danced with joy when he heard that. +Nothing would please him better than to dress as a Puant and carry off +a bride. The Cahokians were so used to being raided by the Puants that +they would readily believe such an attack had been made. That very +week the Puants had galloped at midnight, whooping through the town, +and swept off from the common fields a flock of Le Page's goats and +two of Larue's cattle. One might expect they would hear of such a +wedding as Celeste Barbeau's. Indeed, the people were so tired of the +Puants that they had sent urgently to St. Ange de Bellerive asking +that soldiers be marched from Fort Chartres to give them military +protection. + +It would be easy enough for the young men to make themselves look like +Indians. What one lacked another could supply. + +"But two of us cannot take any part in the raid," said Gabriel. "Two +must be ready at the river with a boat. And they must take Celeste as +fast as they can row up the river to Pain Court to my aunt Choutou. +My aunt Choutou will keep her safely until I can make some terms with +Alexis Barbeau. Maybe he will give me his daughter, if I rescue her +from the Puants. And if worst comes to worst, there is the missionary +priest at Pain Court; he may be persuaded to marry us. But who is +willing to be at the river?" + +Paul and Jacques Le Page said they would undertake the boat. They were +steady and trusty fellows and good river men; not so keen at riding +and hunting as the others, but in better favor with the priest on +account of their behavior. + +So the scheme was very well laid out, and the wedding day came, +clear and bright, as promising as any bride's day that ever was seen. +Claudis Beauvois and a few of his friends galloped off to Prairie du +Pont to bring the bride to church. The road from Caho' to Prairie du +Pont was packed on both sides with dense thickets of black oak, honey +locust, and red haws. Here and there a habitant had cut out a patch +and built his cabin; or a path broken by hunters trailed towards the +Mississippi. You ride the same track to-day, my child, only it is not +as shaggy and savage as the course then lay. + +And as soon as Claudis Beauvois was out of sight, Gabriel Chartrant +followed with his dozen French Puants, in feathers and buckskin, all +smeared with red and yellow ochre, well mounted and well armed. They +rode along until they reached the last path which turns off to the +river. At the end of that path, a mile away through the underbrush, +Paul and Jacques Le Page were stationed with a boat. The young men +with Gabriel dismounted and led their horses into the thicket to wait +for his signal. + +The birds had begun to sing just after three o'clock that clear +morning, for Celeste lying awake heard them; and they were keeping +it up in the bushes. Gabriel leaned his feathered head over the road, +listening for hoof-falls and watching for the first puff of dust in +the direction of Prairie du Pont. The road was not as well trodden +as it is now, and a little ridge of weeds grew along the centre, high +enough to rake the stirrup of a horseman. + +But in the distance, instead of the pat-a-pat of iron hoofs began a +sudden uproar of cries and wild whoops. Then a cloud of dust came in +earnest. Claudis Beauvois alone, without any hat, wild with fright, +was galloping towards Cahokia. Gabriel understood that something had +happened which ruined his own plan. He and his men sprung on their +horses and headed off the fugitive. The bridegroom who had passed that +way so lately with smiles, yelled and tried to wheel his horse into +the brush; but Gabriel caught his bridle and demanded to know what was +the matter. As soon as he heard the French tongue spoken he begged for +his life, and to know what more they required of him, since the rest +of their band had already taken his bride. They made him tell them the +facts. The real Puants had attacked the wedding procession before it +was out of sight of Prairie du Pont, and had scattered it and carried +off Celeste. He did not know what had become of anybody except +himself, after she was taken. + +Gabriel gave his horse a cut which was like a kick to its rider. +He shot ahead, glad to pass what he had taken for a second body of +Indians, and Le Maudit Pensonneau hooted after him. + +"The miserable coward. I wish I had taken his scalp. He makes me feel +a very good Puant indeed." + +"Who cares what becomes of him?" said Gabriel. "It is Celeste that +we want. The real Puants have got ahead of us and kidnaped the bride. +Will any of you go with me?" + +The poor fellow was white as ashes. Not a man needed to ask him where +he was going, but they all answered in a breath and dashed after him. +They broke directly through the thicket on the opposite side of the +road, and came out into the tall prairie grass. They knew every path, +marais, and rigolé for miles around, and took their course eastward, +correctly judging that the Indians would follow the line of the bluffs +and go north. Splash went their horses among the reeds of sloughs and +across sluggish creeks, and by this short cut they soon came on the +fresh trail. + +At Falling Spring they made a halt to rest the horses a few minutes, +and wash the red and yellow paint off their hands and faces; then +galloped on along the rocky bluffs up the Bottom lands. But after a +few miles they saw they had lost the trail. Closely scouting in every +direction, they had to go back to Falling Spring, and there at last +they found that the Indians had left the Bottom and by a winding path +among rocks ascended to the uplands. Much time was lost. They had +heard, while they galloped, the church bell tolling alarm in Cahokia, +and they knew how the excitable inhabitants were running together +at Beauvois' story, the women weeping and the men arming themselves, +calling a council, and loading with contempt a runaway bridegroom. + +Gabriel and his men, with their faces set north, hardly glanced +aside to see the river shining along its distant bed. But one of them +thought of saying,-- + +"Paul and Jacques will have a long wait with the boat." + +The sun passed over their heads, and sunk hour by hour, and set. The +western sky was red; and night began to close in, and still they urged +their tired horses on. There would be a moon a little past its full, +and they counted on its light when it should rise. + +The trail of the Puants descended to the Bottom again at the head of +the Grand Marais. There was heavy timber here. The night shadow of +trees and rocks covered them, and they began to move more cautiously, +for all signs pointed to a camp. And sure enough, when they had passed +an abutment of the ridge, far off through the woods they saw a fire. + +My son (mon Oncle Mathieu would say at this point of the story), will +you do me the favor to bring me a coal for my pipe? + +(The coal being brought in haste, he put it into the bowl with his +finger and thumb, and seemed to doze while he drew at the stem. The +smoke puffed deliberately from his lips, while all the time that +mysterious fire was burning in the woods for my impatience to dance +upon with hot feet, above the Grand Marais!) + +Oh, yes, Gabriel and his men were getting very close to the Puants. +They dismounted, and tied their horses in a crabapple thicket and +crept forward on foot. He halted them, and crawled alone toward the +light to reconnoitre, careful not to crack a twig or make the least +noise. The nearer he crawled the more his throat seemed to choke up +and his ears to fill with buzzing sounds. The camp fire showed him +Celeste tied to a tree. She looked pale and dejected, and her head +rested against the tree stem, but her eyes kept roving the darkness in +every direction as if she expected rescue. Her bridal finery had been +torn by the bushes and her hair was loose, but Gabriel had never seen +Celeste when she looked so beautiful. + +Thirteen big Puants were sitting around the camp fire eating their +supper of half-raw meat. Their horses were hobbled a little beyond, +munching such picking as could be found among the fern. Gabriel went +back as still as a snake and whispered his orders to his men. + +Every Frenchman must pick the Puant directly in front of him, and be +sure to hit that Puant. If the attack was half-hearted and the Indians +gained time to rally, Celeste would suffer the consequences; they +could kill her or escape with her. If you wish to gain an Indian's +respect you must make a neat job of shooting him down. He never +forgives a bungler. + +"And then," said Gabriel, "we will rush in with our knives and +hatchets. It must be all done in a moment." + +The men reprimed their flintlocks, and crawled forward abreast. +Gabriel was at the extreme right. When they were near enough he gave +his signal, the nasal singing of the rattlesnake. The guns cracked all +together, and every Cahokian sprung up to finish the work with knife +and hatchet. Nine of the Puants fell dead, and the rest were gone +before the smoke cleared. They left their meat, their horses, and +arms. They were off like deer, straight through the woods to any place +of safety. Every marksman had taken the Indian directly in front of +him, but as they were abreast and the Puants in a circle, those +four on the opposite side of the fire had been sheltered. Le Maudit +Pensonneau scalped the red heads by the fire and hung the scalps in +his belt. Our French people took up too easily, indeed, with savage +ways; but Le Maudit Pensonneau was always full of his pranks. + +Oh, yes, Gabriel himself untied Celeste. She was wild with joy, and +cried on Gabriel's shoulder; and all the young men who had taken their +first communion with Gabriel and had played with this dear girl when +she was a child, felt the tears come into their own eyes. All but Le +Maudit Pensonneau. He was busy rounding up the horses. + +"Here's my uncle Larue's filly that was taken two weeks ago," said Le +Maudit, calling from the hobbling place. "And here are the blacks that +Ferland lost, and Pierre's pony--half these horses are Caho' horses." + +He tied them together so that they could be driven two or three +abreast ahead of the party, and then he gathered up all the guns left +by the Indians. + +Gabriel now called a council, for it had to be decided directly what +they should do next. Pain Court was seven miles in a straight line +from the spot where they stood; while Cahokia was ten miles to the +southwest. + +"Would it not be best to go at once to Pain Court?" said Gabriel. +"Celeste, after this frightful day, needs food and sleep as soon as +she can get them, and my aunt Choutou is ready for her. And boats can +always be found opposite Pain Court." + +All the young men were ready to go to Pain Court. They really thought, +even after all that had happened, that it would be wisest to deal with +Alexis Barbeau at a distance. But Celeste herself decided the matter. +Gabriel had not let go of her. He kept his hand on her as if afraid +she might be kidnaped again. + +"We will go home to my grandfather and grandmother au Caho'," said +Celeste. "I will not go anywhere else." + +"But you forget that Beauvois is au Caho'?" said one of the young men. + +"Oh, I never can forget anything connected with this day," said +Celeste, and the tears ran down her face. "I never can forget how +willingly I let those Puants take me, and I laughed as one of them +flung me on the horse behind him. We were nearly to the bluffs before +I spoke. He did not say anything, and the others all had eyes which +made me shudder. I pressed my hands on his buckskin sides and said +to him, 'Gabriel.' And he turned and looked at me. I never had seen a +feature of his frightful face before. And then I understood that the +real Puants had me. Do you think I will ever marry anybody but the +man who took me away from them? No. If worst comes to worst, I will +go before the high altar and the image of the Holy Virgin, and make a +public vow never to marry anybody else." + +The young men flung up their arms in the air and raised a hurrah. Hats +they had none to swing. Their cheeks were burnt by the afternoon sun. +They were hungry and thirsty, and so tired that any one of them could +have flung himself on the old leaves and slept as soon as he stretched +himself. But it put new heart in them to see how determined she was. + +So the horses were brought up, and the captured guns were packed upon +some of the recovered ponies. There were some new blankets strapped on +the backs of these Indian horses, and Gabriel took one of the blankets +and secured it as a pillion behind his own saddle for Celeste to ride +upon. As they rode out of the forest shadow they could see the moon +just coming up over the hills beyond the great Cahokian mound. + +It was midnight when the party trampled across the rigolé bridge into +Cahokia streets. The people were sleeping with one eye open. All +day, stragglers from the wedding procession had been coming in, and a +company was organized for defense and pursuit. They had heard that the +whole Pottawattamie nation had risen. And since Celeste Barbeau was +kidnaped, anything might be expected. Gabriel and his men were missed +early, but the excitement was so great that their unexplained absence +was added without question to the general calamity. Candles showed +at once, and men with gun barrels shining in the moonlight gathered +quickly from all directions. + +"Friends, friends!" Celeste called out; for the young men in buckskin, +with their booty of driven horses, were enough like Puants to be in +danger of a volley. "It is Celeste. Gabriel Chartrant and his men have +killed the Indians and brought me back." + +"It is Celeste Barbeau! Gabriel Chartrant and his men have killed the +Indians and brought her back!" the word was passed on. + +Her grandfather hung to her hand on one side of the horse, and her +grandmother embraced her knees on the other. The old father was in his +red nightcap and the old mother had pulled slippers on her bare feet. +But without a thought of their appearance they wept aloud and fell on +the neighbors' necks, and the neighbors fell upon each others' necks. +Some kneeled down in the dust and returned thanks to the saints they +had invoked. The auberge keeper and three old men who smoked their +pipes steadily on his gallery every day took hold of hands and danced +in a circle. Children who had waked to shriek with fear galloped +the streets to proclaim at every window, "Celeste Barbeau is brought +back!" The whole town was in a delirium of joy. Manette Le Compt, who +had been brought home with the terrified bridesmaids and laughed in +her sleeve all day because she thought Gabriel and his men were the +Puants, leaned against a wall and turned sick. I have heard her say +she never was so confused in her life as when she saw the driven +horses, and the firearms, and those coarse-haired scalps hanging to Le +Maudit Pensonneau's belt. The moon showed them all distinctly. Manette +had thought it laughable when she heard that Alexis Barbeau was shut +up in his brick house at Prairie du Pont, with all the men and guns +he could muster to protect his property; but now she wept indignantly +about it. + +The priest had been the first man in the street, having lain down in +all his clothes except his cassock, and he heartily gave Celeste +and the young men his blessing, and counseled everybody to go to bed +again. But Celeste reminded them that she was hungry, and as for the +rescuers, they had ridden hard all day without a mouthful to eat. So +the whole town made a feast, everybody bringing the best he had to +Barbeau's house. They spread the table and crowded around, leaning +over each, other's shoulders to take up bits in their hands and eat +with and talk to the young people. Gabriel's mother sat beside him +with her arm around him, and opposite was Celeste with her grandfather +and grandmother, and all the party were ranged around. The feathers +had been blown out of their hair by that long chase, but their +buckskins were soiled, and the hastily washed colors yet smeared their +ears and necks. Yet this supper was quite like a bridal feast. Ah, +my child, we never know it when we are standing in the end of the +rainbow. Gabriel and Celeste might live a hundred years, but they +could never be quite as happy again. + +Paul and Jacques Le Page sat down with the other young men, and the +noise of tongues in Barbeau's house could be heard out by the rigolé. +It was like the swarming of wild bees. Paul and Jacques had waited +with the boat until nightfall. They heard the firing when the Puants +took Celeste, and watched hour after hour for some one to appear from +the path; but at last concluding that Gabriel had been obliged to +change his plan, they rowed back to Caho'. + +Claudis Beauvois was the only person who did not sit up talking until +dawn. And nobody thought about him until noon the next day, when +Captain Jean Saucier with a company of fusileers rode into the village +from Fort Chartres. + +That was the first time my mother ever saw Captain Saucier. Your uncle +François in Kaskaskia, he was also afterward Captain Saucier. I was +not born until they had been married fifteen years. I was the last +of their children. So Celeste Barbeau was kidnaped the day before my +mother met my father. + +Glad as the Cahokians were to see them, the troops were no longer +needed, for the Puants had gone. They were frightened out of the +country. Oh, yes, all those Indians wanted was a good whipping, and +they got it. Alexis Barbeau had come along with the soldiers from +Prairie du Pont, and he was not the only man who had made use of +military escort. Basil Le Page had come up from New Orleans in the +last fleet of pirogues to Kaskaskia. There he heard so much about the +Puants that he bought a swift horse and armed himself for the ride +northward, and was glad when he reached Fort Chartres to ride into +Cahokia with Captain Saucier. + +You might say Basil Le Page came in at one end of Cahokia and Claudis +Beauvois went out at the other. For they knew one another directly, +and it was noised in a minute that Basil said to his cousins Paul and +Jacques:-- + +"What is that notorious swindler and gambler doing here? He left New +Orleans suddenly, or he would be in prison now, and you will see if he +stops here long after recognizing me." + +Claudis Beauvois did not turn around in the street to look at any +woman, rich or poor, when he left Cahokia, though how he left was not +certainly known. Alexis Barbeau and his other associates knew better +how their pockets were left. + +Oh, yes, Alexis Barbeau was very willing for Celeste to marry Gabriel +after that. He provided for them handsomely, and gave presents to each +of the young men who had helped to take his daughter from the Puants; +and he was so ashamed of the son-in-law he had wanted, that he never +could endure to hear the man's name mentioned afterward. Alexis +and the tavern-keeper used--when they were taking a social cup +together--to hug each other without a word. The fine guest who had +lived so long at the auberge and drank so much good wine, which was as +fine as any in New Orleans, without expense, was as sore a memory +to the poor landlord as to the rich landowner. But Celeste and +Gabriel--my mother said when they were married the dancing and +fiddling and feasting were kept up an entire week in Caho'. + + +[Footnote 1: To Cahokia.] + +[Footnote 2: To Peoria.] + +[Footnote 3: To Kaskaskia.] + +[Footnote 4: Cahokian softening of cursed.] + + + + +PONTIAC'S LOOKOUT. + + +Jenieve Lalotte came out of the back door of her little house on +Mackinac beach. The front door did not open upon either street of the +village; and other domiciles were scattered with it along the strand, +each little homestead having a front inclosure palisaded with oaken +posts. Wooded heights sent a growth of bushes and young trees down to +the pebble rim of the lake. + +It had been raining, and the island was fresh as if new made. Boats +and bateaux, drawn up in a great semicircle about the crescent bay, +had also been washed; but they kept the marks of their long voyages +to the Illinois Territory, or the Lake Superior region, or Canada. The +very last of the winterers were in with their bales of furs, and some +of these men were now roaring along the upper street in new clothes, +exhilarated by spending on good cheer in one month the money it +took them eleven months to earn. While in "hyvernements," or winter +quarters, and on the long forest marches, the allowance of food per +day, for a winterer, was one quart of corn and two ounces of tallow. +On this fare the hardiest voyageurs ever known threaded a pathless +continent and made a great traffic possible. But when they returned to +the front of the world,--that distributing point in the straits,--they +were fiercely importunate for what they considered the best the world +afforded. + +A segment of rainbow showed over one end of Round Island. The sky was +dull rose, and a ship on the eastern horizon turned to a ship of fire, +clean-cut and poised, a glistening object on a black bar of water. The +lake was still, with blackness in its depths. The American flag on the +fort rippled, a thing of living light, the stripes transparent. High +pink clouds were riding down from the north, their flush dying as they +piled aloft. There were shadings of peacock colors in the shoal water. +Jenieve enjoyed this sunset beauty of the island, as she ran over the +rolling pebbles, carrying some leather shoes by their leather strings. +Her face was eager. She lifted the shoes to show them to three little +boys playing on the edge of the lake. + +"Come here. See what I have for you." + +"What is it?" inquired the eldest, gazing betwixt the hairs scattered +on his face; he stood with his back to the wind. His bare shins +reddened in the wash of the lake, standing beyond its rim of shining +gravel. + +"Shoes," answered Jenieve, in a note triumphant over fate. + +"What's shoes?" asked the smallest half-breed, tucking up his smock +around his middle. + +"They are things to wear on your feet," explained Jenieve; and her +red-skinned half-brothers heard her with incredulity. She had told +their mother, in their presence, that she intended to buy the children +some shoes when she got pay for her spinning; and they thought it +meant fashions from the Fur Company's store to wear to mass, but never +suspected she had set her mind on dark-looking clamps for the feet. + +"You must try them on," said Jenieve, and they all stepped +experimentally from the water, reluctant to submit. But Jenieve was +mistress in the house. There is no appeal from a sister who is a +father to you, and even a substitute for your living mother. + +"You sit down first, François, and wipe your feet with this cloth." + +The absurdity of wiping his feet before he turned in for the night +tickled François, though he was of a strongly aboriginal cast, and he +let himself grin. Jenieve helped him struggle to encompass his lithe +feet with the clumsy brogans. + +"You boys are living like Indians." + +"We are Indians," asserted François. + +"But you are French, too. You are my brothers. I want you to go to +mass looking as well as anybody." + +Hitherto their object in life had been to escape mass. They objected +to increasing their chances of church-going. Moccasins were the +natural wear of human beings, and nobody but women needed even +moccasins until cold weather. The proud look of an Iroquois taking +spoils disappeared from the face of the youngest, giving way to uneasy +anguish. The three boys sat down to tug, Jenieve going encouragingly +from one to another. François lay on his back and pushed his heels +skyward. Contempt and rebellion grew also in the faces of Gabriel +and Toussaint. They were the true children of François Iroquois, her +mother's second husband, who had been wont to lounge about Mackinac +village in dirty buckskins and a calico shirt having one red and one +blue sleeve. He had also bought a tall silk hat at the Fur Company's +store, and he wore the hat under his blanket when it rained. If +tobacco failed him, he scraped and dried willow peelings, and called +them kinnickinnick. This worthy relation had worked no increase in +Jenieve's home except an increase of children. He frequently yelled +around the crescent bay, brandishing his silk hat in the exaltation of +rum. And when he finally fell off the wharf into deep water, and was +picked out to make another mound in the Indian burying-ground, Jenieve +was so fiercely elated that she was afraid to confess it to the +priest. Strange matches were made on the frontier, and Indian wives +were commoner than any other kind; but through the whole mortifying +existence of this Indian husband Jenieve avoided the sight of him, and +called her mother steadily Mama Lalotte. The girl had remained with +her grandmother, while François Iroquois carried off his wife to the +Indian village on a western height of the island. Her grandmother had +died, and Jenieve continued to keep house on the beach, having always +with her one or more of the half-breed babies, until the plunge +of François Iroquois allowed her to bring them all home with their +mother. There was but one farm on the island, and Jenieve had all the +spinning which the sheep afforded. She was the finest spinner in that +region. Her grandmother had taught her to spin with a little wheel, +as they still do about Quebec. Her pay was small. There was not much +money then in the country, but bills of credit on the Fur Company's +store were the same as cash, and she managed to feed her mother and +the Indian's family. Fish were to be had for the catching, and +she could get corn-meal and vegetables for her soup pot in partial +exchange for her labor. The luxuries of life on the island were air +and water, and the glories of evening and morning. People who could +buy them got such gorgeous clothes as were brought by the Company. +But usually Jenieve felt happy enough when she put on her best red +homespun bodice and petticoat for mass or to go to dances. She did +wish for shoes. The ladies at the fort had shoes, with heels which +clicked when they danced. Jenieve could dance better, but she always +felt their eyes on her moccasins, and came to regard shoes as the +chief article of one's attire. + +Though the joy of shoeing her brothers was not to be put off, she +had not intended to let them keep on these precious brogans of +civilization while they played beside the water. But she suddenly saw +Mama Lalotte walking along the street near the lake with old Michel +Pensonneau. Beyond these moving figures were many others, of engagés +and Indians, swarming in front of the Fur Company's great warehouse. +Some were talking and laughing; others were in a line, bearing bales +of furs from bateaux just arrived at the log-and-stone wharf stretched +from the centre of the bay. But all of them, and curious women peeping +from their houses on the beach, particularly Jean Bati' McClure's +wife, could see that Michel Pensonneau was walking with Mama Lalotte. + +This sight struck cold down Jenieve's spine. Mama Lalotte was really +the heaviest charge she had. Not twenty minutes before had that +flighty creature been set to watch the supper pot, and here she +was, mincing along, and fixing her pale blue laughing eyes on Michel +Pensonneau, and bobbing her curly flaxen head at every word he spoke. +A daughter who has a marrying mother on her hands may become morbidly +anxious; Jenieve felt she should have no peace of mind during the +month the coureurs-de-bois remained on the island. Whether they +arrived early or late, they had soon to be off to the winter +hunting-grounds; yet here was an emergency. + +"Mama Lalotte!" called Jenieve. Her strong young fingers beckoned with +authority. "Come here to me. I want you." + +The giddy parent, startled and conscious, turned a conciliating smile +that way. "Yes, Jenieve," she answered obediently, "I come." But she +continued to pace by the side of Michel Pensonneau. + +Jenieve desired to grasp her by the shoulder and walk her into the +house; but when the world, especially Jean Bati' McClure's wife, is +watching to see how you manage an unruly mother, it is necessary to +use some adroitness. + +"Will you please come here, dear Mama Lalotte? Toussaint wants you." + +"No, I don't!" shouted Toussaint. "It is Michel Pensonneau I want, to +make me some boats." + +The girl did not hesitate. She intercepted the couple, and took her +mother's arm in hers. The desperation of her act appeared to her while +she was walking Mama Lalotte home; still, if nothing but force will +restrain a parent, you must use force. + +Michel Pensonneau stood squarely in his moccasins, turning redder +and redder at the laugh of his cronies before the warehouse. He was +dressed in new buckskins, and their tawny brightness made his florid +cheeks more evident. Michel Pensonneau had been brought up by the +Cadottes of Sault Ste. Marie, and he had rich relations at Cahokia, +in the Illinois Territory. If he was not as good as the family of +François Iroquois, he wanted to know the reason why. It is true, he +was past forty and a bachelor. To be a bachelor, in that region, where +Indian wives were so plenty and so easily got rid of, might bring +some reproach on a man. Michel had begun to see that it did. He was +an easy, gormandizing, good fellow, shapelessly fat, and he never had +stirred himself during his month of freedom to do any courting. But +Frenchmen of his class considered fifty the limit of an active life. +It behooved him now to begin looking around; to prepare a fireside for +himself. Michel was a good clerk to his employers. Cumbrous though his +body might be, when he was in the woods he never shirked any hardship +to secure a specially fine bale of furs. + +Mama Lalotte, propelled against her will, sat down, trembling, in the +house. Jenieve, trembling also, took the wooden bowls and spoons from +a shelf and ladled out soup for the evening meal. Mama Lalotte was +always willing to have the work done without trouble to herself, and +she sat on a three-legged stool, like a guest. The supper pot boiled +in the centre of the house, hanging on the crane which was fastened to +a beam overhead. Smoke from the clear fire passed that richly darkened +transverse of timber as it ascended, and escaped through a hole in +the bark roof. The Fur Company had a great building with chimneys; +but poor folks were glad to have a cedar hut of one room, covered with +bark all around and on top. A fire-pit, or earthen hearth, was left +in the centre, and the nearer the floor could be brought to this hole, +without danger, the better the house was. On winter nights, fat French +and half-breed children sat with heels to this sunken altar, and heard +tales of massacre or privation which made the family bunks along the +wall seem couches of luxury. It was the aboriginal hut patterned after +his Indian brother's by the Frenchman; and the succession of British +and American powers had not yet improved it. To Jenieve herself, the +crisis before her, so insignificant against the background of that +historic island, was more important than massacre or conquest. + +"Mama,"--she spoke tremulously,--"I was obliged to bring you in. It is +not proper to be seen on the street with an engagé". The town is now +full of these bush-lopers." + +"Bush-lopers, mademoiselle!" The little flaxen-haired woman had a +shrill voice. "What was your own father?" + +"He was a clerk, madame," maintained the girl's softer treble, "and +always kept good credit for his family at the Company's store." + +"I see no difference. They are all the same." + +"François Iroquois was not the same." As the girl said this she felt a +powder-like flash from her own eyes. + +Mama Lalotte was herself a little ashamed of the François Iroquois +alliance, but she answered, "He let me walk outside the house, at +least. You allow me no amusement at all. I cannot even talk over the +fence to Jean Bati' McClure's wife." + +"Mama, you do not understand the danger of all these things, and I do. +Jean Bati' McClure's wife will be certain to get you into trouble. +She is not a proper woman for you to associate with. Her mind runs on +nothing but match-making." + +"Speak to her, then, for yourself. I wish you would get married." + +"I never shall," declared Jenieve. "I have seen the folly of it." + +"You never have been young," complained Mama Lalotte. "You don't know +how a young person feels. + +"I let you go to the dances," argued Jenieve. "You have as good a +time as any woman on the island. But old Michel Pensonneau," she added +sternly, "is not settling down to smoke his pipe for the remainder of +his life on this doorstep." + +"Monsieur Pensonneau is not old." + +"Do you take up for him, Mama Lalotte, in spite of me?" In the girl's +rich brunette face the scarlet of the cheeks deepened. "Am I not more +to you than Michel Pensonneau or any other engagé? He is old; he is +past forty. Would I call him old if he were no more than twenty?" + +"Every one cannot be only twenty and a young agent," retorted her +elder; and Jenieve's ears and throat reddened, also. + +"Have I not done my best for you and the boys? Do you think it does +not hurt me to be severe with you?" + +Mama Lalotte flounced around on her stool, but made no reply. She saw +peeping and smiling at the edge of the door a neighbor's face, that +encouraged her insubordinations. Its broad, good-natured upper +lip thinly veiled with hairs, its fleshy eyelids and thick brows, +expressed a strength which she had not, yet would gladly imitate. + +"Jenieve Lalotte," spoke the neighbor, "before you finish whipping +your mother you had better run and whip the boys. They are throwing +their shoes in the lake." + +"Their shoes!" Jenieve cried, and she scarcely looked at Jean Bati' +McClure's wife, but darted outdoors along the beach. + +"Oh, children, have you lost your shoes?" + +"No," answered Toussaint, looking up with a countenance full of +enjoyment. + +"Where are they?" + +"In the lake." + +"You didn't throw your new shoes in the lake?" + +"We took them for boats," said Gabriel freely. "But they are not even +fit for boats." + +"I threw mine as far as I could," observed François. "You can't make +anything float in them." + +She could see one of them stranded on the lake bottom, loaded with +stones, its strings playing back and forth in the clear water. The +others were gone out to the straits. Jenieve remembered all her toil +for them, and her denial of her own wants that she might give to these +half-savage boys, who considered nothing lost that they threw into the +lake. + +She turned around to run to the house. But there stood Jean Bati' +McClure's wife, talking through the door, and encouraging her mother +to walk with coureurs-de-bois. The girl's heart broke. She took to the +bushes to hide her weeping, and ran through them towards the path she +had followed so many times when her only living kindred were at the +Indian village. The pine woods received her into their ascending +heights, and she mounted towards sunset. + +Panting from her long walk, Jenieve came out of the woods upon a +grassy open cliff, called by the islanders Pontiac's Lookout, because +the great war chief used to stand on that spot, forty years before, +and gaze southward, as if he never could give up his hope of the union +of his people. Jenieve knew the story. She had built playhouses +here, when a child, without being afraid of the old chief's lingering +influence; for she seemed to understand his trouble, and this night +she was more in sympathy with Pontiac than ever before in her life. +She sat down on the grass, wiping the tears from her hot cheeks, +her dark eyes brooding on the lovely straits. There might be more +beautiful sights in the world, but Jenieve doubted it; and a white +gull drifted across her vision like a moving star. + +Pontiac's Lookout had been the spot from which she watched her +father's bateau disappear behind Round Island. He used to go by way of +Detroit to the Canadian woods. Here she wept out her first grief for +his death; and here she stopped, coming and going between her mother +and grandmother. The cliff down to the beach was clothed with a thick +growth which took away the terror of falling, and many a time Jenieve +had thrust her bare legs over the edge to sit and enjoy the outlook. + +There were old women on the island who could remember seeing Pontiac. +Her grandmother had told her how he looked. She had heard that, though +his bones had been buried forty years beside the Mississippi, he yet +came back to the Lookout every night during that summer month when +all the tribes assembled at the island to receive money from a new +government. He could not lie still while they took a little metal and +ammunition in their hands in exchange for their country. As for the +tribes, they enjoyed it. Jenieve could see their night fires begin to +twinkle on Round Island and Bois Blanc, and the rising hubbub of their +carnival came to her like echoes across the strait. There was one +growing star on the long hooked reef which reached out from Round +Island, and figures of Indians were silhouetted against the lake, +running back and forth along that high stone ridge. Evening coolness +stole up to Jenieve, for the whole water world was purpling; and sweet +pine and cedar breaths, humid and invisible, were all around her. Her +trouble grew small, laid against the granite breast of the island, and +the woods darkened and sighed behind her. Jenieve could hear the shout +of some Indian boy at the distant village. She was not afraid, but her +shoulders contracted with a shiver. The place began to smell rankly +of sweetbrier. There was no sweetbrier on the cliff or in the woods, +though many bushes grew on alluvial slopes around the bay. Jenieve +loved the plant, and often stuck a piece of it in her bosom. But this +was a cold smell, striking chill to the bones. Her flesh and hair +and clothes absorbed the scent, and it cooled her nostrils with its +strange ether, the breath of sweetbrier, which always before seemed +tinctured by the sun. She had a sensation of moving sidewise out of +her own person; and then she saw the chief Pontiac standing on the +edge of the cliff. Jenieve knew his back, and the feathers in his hair +which the wind did not move. His head turned on a pivot, sweeping the +horizon from St. Ignace, where the white man first set foot, to Round +Island, where the shameful fires burned. His hard, set features were +silver color rather than copper, as she saw his profile against the +sky. His arms were folded in his blanket. Jenieve was as sure that she +saw Pontiac as she was sure of the rock on which she sat. She poked +one finger through the sward to the hardness underneath. The rock was +below her, and Pontiac stood before her. He turned his head back from +Round Island to St. Ignace. The wind blew against him, and the brier +odor, sickening sweet, poured over Jenieve. + +She heard the dogs bark in Mackinac village, and leaves moving behind +her, and the wash of water at the base of the island which always +sounded like a small rain. Instead of feeling afraid, she was in a +nightmare of sorrow. Pontiac had loved the French almost as well as +he loved his own people. She breathed the sweetbrier scent, her neck +stretched forward and her dark eyes fixed on him; and as his head +turned back from St. Ignace his whole body moved with it, and he +looked at Jenieve. + +His eyes were like a cat's in the purple darkness, or like that +heatless fire which shines on rotting bark. The hoar-frosted +countenance was noble even in its most brutal lines. Jenieve, without +knowing she was saying a word, spoke out:-- + +"Monsieur the chief Pontiac, what ails the French and Indians?" + +"Malatat," answered Pontiac. The word came at her with force. + +"Monsieur the chief Pontiac," repeated Jenieve, struggling to +understand, "I say, what ails the French and Indians?" + +"Malatat!" His guttural cry rang through the bushes. Jenieve was so +startled that she sprung back, catching herself on her hands. But +without the least motion of walking he was far westward, showing like +a phosphorescent bar through the trees, and still moving on, until the +pallor was lost from sight. + +Jenieve at once began to cross herself. She had forgotten to do it +before. The rankness of sweetbrier followed her some distance down the +path, and she said prayers all the way home. + +You cannot talk with great spirits and continue to chafe about little +things. The boys' shoes and Mama Lalotte's lightness were the same +as forgotten. Jenieve entered her house with dew in her hair, and +an unterrified freshness of body for whatever might happen. She was +certain she had seen Pontiac, but she would never tell anybody to have +it laughed at. There was no candle burning, and the fire had almost +died under the supper pot. She put a couple of sticks on the coals, +more for their blaze than to heat her food. But the Mackinac night +was chill, and it was pleasant to see the interior of her little home +flickering to view. Candles were lighted in many houses along the +beach, and amongst them Mama Lalotte was probably roaming,--for she +had left the door open towards the lake,--and the boys' voices could +be heard with others in the direction of the log wharf. + +Jenieve took her supper bowl and sat down on the doorstep. The light +cloud of smoke, drawn up to the roof-hole, ascended behind her, +forming an azure gray curtain against which her figure showed, +round-wristed and full-throated. The starlike camp fires on Round +Island were before her, and the incessant wash of the water on its +pebbles was company to her. Somebody knocked on the front door. + +"It is that insolent Michel Pensonneau," thought Jenieve. "When he +is tired he will go away." Yet she was not greatly surprised when the +visitor ceased knocking and came around the palisades. + +"Good-evening, Monsieur Crooks," said Jenieve. + +"Good-evening, mademoiselle," responded Monsieur Crooks, and he leaned +against the hut side, cap in hand, where he could look at her. He had +never yet been asked to enter the house. Jenieve continued to eat her +supper. + +"I hope monsieur your uncle is well?" + +"My uncle is well. It isn't necessary for me to inquire about madame +your mother, for I have just seen her sitting on McClure's doorstep." + +"Oh," said Jenieve. + +The young man shook his cap in a restless hand. Though he spoke French +easily, he was not dressed like an engagé, and he showed through the +dark the white skin of the Saxon. + +"Mademoiselle Jenieve,"--he spoke suddenly,--"you know my uncle is +well established as agent of the Fur Company, and as his assistant I +expect to stay here." + +"Yes, monsieur. Did you take in some fine bales of furs to-day?" + +"That is not what I was going to say." + +"Monsieur Crooks, you speak all languages, don't you?" + +"Not all. A few. I know a little of nearly every one of our Indian +dialects." + +"Monsieur, what does 'malatat' mean?" + +"'Malatat'? That's a Chippewa word. You will often hear that. It means +'good for nothing.'" + +"But I have heard that the chief Pontiac was an Ottawa." + +The young man was not interested in Pontiac. + +"A chief would know a great many dialects," he replied. "Chippewa was +the tongue of this island. But what I wanted to say is that I have +had a serious talk with the agent. He is entirely willing to have me +settle down. And he says, what is the truth, that you are the best and +prettiest girl at the straits. I have spoken my mind often enough. Why +shouldn't we get married right away?" + +Jenieve set her bowl and spoon inside the house, and folded her arms. + +"Monsieur, have I not told you many times? I cannot marry. I have a +family already." + +The young agent struck his cap impatiently against the bark +weather-boarding. "You are the most offish girl I ever saw. A man +cannot get near enough to you to talk reason." + +"It would be better if you did not come down here at all, Monsieur +Crooks," said Jenieve. "The neighbors will be saying I am setting a +bad example to my mother." + +"Bring your mother up to the Fur Company's quarters with you, and the +neighbors will no longer have a chance to put mischief into her head." + +Jenieve took him seriously, though she had often suspected, from +what she could see at the fort, that Americans had not the custom of +marrying an entire family. + +"It is really too fine a place for us." + +Young Crooks laughed. Squaws had lived in the Fur Company's quarters, +but he would not mention this fact to the girl. + +His eyes dwelt fondly on her in the darkness, for though the fire +behind her had again sunk to embers, it cast up a little glow; and he +stood entirely in the star-embossed outside world. It is not safe +to talk in the dark: you tell too much. The primitive instinct of +truth-speaking revives in force, and the restraints of another's +presence are gone. You speak from the unseen to the unseen over +leveled barriers of reserve. Young Crooks had scarcely said that +place was nothing, and he would rather live in that little house +with Jenieve than in the Fur Company's quarters without her, when she +exclaimed openly, "And have old Michel Pensonneau put over you!" + +The idea of Michel Pensonneau taking precedence of him as master +of the cedar hut was delicious to the American, as he recalled the +engagé's respectful slouch while receiving the usual bill of credit. + +"One may laugh, monsieur. I laugh myself; it is better than crying. +But it is the truth that Mama Lalotte is more care to me than all the +boys. I have no peace except when she is asleep in bed." + +"There is no harm in Madame Lalotte." + +"You are right, monsieur. Jean Bati' McClure's wife puts all the +mischief in her head. She would even learn to spin, if that woman +would let her alone." + +"And I never heard any harm of Michel Pensonneau. He is a good enough +fellow, and he has more to his credit on the Company's books than any +other engagé now on the island." + +"I suppose you would like to have him sit and smoke his pipe the rest +of his days on your doorstep?" + +"No, I wouldn't," confessed the young agent. "Michel is a saving man, +and he uses very mean tobacco, the cheapest in the house." + +"You see how I am situated, monsieur. It is no use to talk to me." + +"But Michel Pensonneau is not going to trouble you long. He has +relations at Cahokia, in the Illinois Territory, and he is fitting +himself out to go there to settle." + +"Are you sure of this, monsieur?" + +"Certainly I am, for we have already made him a bill of credit to our +correspondent at Cahokia. He wants very few goods to carry across the +Chicago portage." + +"Monsieur, how soon does he intend to go?" + +"On the first schooner that sails to the head of the lake; so he may +set out any day. Michel is anxious to try life on the Mississippi, and +his three years' engagement with the Company is just ended." + +"I also am anxious to have him try life on the Mississippi," said +Jenieve, and she drew a deep breath of relief. "Why did you not tell +me this before?" + +"How could I know you were interested in him?" + +"He is not a bad man," she admitted kindly. "I can see that he means +very well. If the McClures would go to the Illinois Territory +with him--But, Monsieur Crooks," Jenieve asked sharply, "do people +sometimes make sudden marriages?" + +"In my case they have not," sighed the young man. "But I think well of +sudden marriages myself. The priest comes to the island this week." + +"Yes, and I must take the children to confession." + +"What are you going to do with me, Jenieve?" + +"I am going to say good-night to you, and shut my door." She stepped +into the house. + +"Not yet. It is only a little while since they fired the sunset gun at +the fort. You are not kind to shut me out the moment I come." + +She gave him her hand, as she always did when she said good-night, and +he prolonged his hold of it. + +"You are full of sweetbrier. I didn't know it grew down here on the +beach." + +"It never did grow here, Monsieur Crooks." + +"You shall have plenty of it in your garden, when you come home with +me." + +"Oh, go away, and let me shut my door, monsieur. It seems no use to +tell you I cannot come." + +"No use at all. Until you come, then, good-night." + +Seldom are two days alike on the island. Before sunrise the lost dews +of paradise always sweeten those scented woods, and the birds begin to +remind you of something you heard in another life, but have forgotten. +Jenieve loved to open her door and surprise the east. She stepped out +the next morning to fill her pail. There was a lake of translucent +cloud beyond the water lake: the first unruffled, and the second +wind-stirred. The sun pushed up, a flattened red ball, from the lake +of steel ripples to the lake of calm clouds. Nearer, a schooner with +its sails down stood black as ebony between two bars of light drawn +across the water, which lay dull and bleak towards the shore. The +addition of a schooner to the scattered fleet of sailboats, bateaux, +and birch canoes made Jenieve laugh. It must have arrived from Sault +Ste. Marie in the night. She had hopes of getting rid of Michel +Pensonneau that very day. Since he was going to Cahokia, she felt +stinging regret for the way she had treated him before the whole +village; yet her mother could not be sacrificed to politeness. Except +his capacity for marrying, there was really no harm in the old fellow, +as Monsieur Crooks had said. + +The humid blockhouse and walls of the fort high above the bay began to +glisten in emerging sunlight, and Jenieve determined not to be hard on +Mama Lalotte that day. If Michel came to say good-by, she would shake +his hand herself. It was not agreeable for a woman so fond of company +to sit in the house with nobody but her daughter. Mama Lalotte did +not love the pine woods, or any place where she would be alone. But +Jenieve could sit and spin in solitude all day, and think of that +chill silver face she had seen at Pontiac's Lookout, and the floating +away of the figure, a phosphorescent bar through the trees, and of +that spoken word which had denounced the French and Indians as good +for nothing. She decided to tell the priest, even if he rebuked her. +It did not seem any stranger to Jenieve than many things which were +called natural, such as the morning miracles in the eastern sky, and +the growth of the boys, her dear torments. To Jenieve's serious eyes, +trained by her grandmother, it was not as strange as the sight of Mama +Lalotte, a child in maturity, always craving amusement, and easily led +by any chance hand. + +The priest had come to Mackinac in the schooner during the night. He +combined this parish with others more or less distant, and he opened +the chapel and began his duties as soon as he arrived. Mama Lalotte +herself offered to dress the boys for confession. She put their best +clothes on them, and then she took out all her own finery. Jenieve +had no suspicion while the little figure preened and burnished itself, +making up for the lack of a mirror by curves of the neck to look +itself well over. Mama Lalotte thought a great deal about what she +wore. She was pleased, and her flaxen curls danced. She kissed Jenieve +on both cheeks, as if there had been no quarrel, though unpleasant +things never lingered in her memory. And she made the boys kiss +Jenieve; and while they were saddened by clothes, she also made them +say they were sorry about the shoes. + +By sunset, the schooner, which had sat in the straits all day, hoisted +its sails and rounded the hooked point of the opposite island. The +gun at the fort was like a parting salute, and a shout was raised by +coureurs-de-bois thronging the log wharf. They trooped up to the fur +warehouse, and the sound of a fiddle and the thump of soft-shod feet +were soon heard; for the French were ready to celebrate any occasion +with dancing. Laughter and the high excited voices of women also +came from the little ball-room, which was only the office of the Fur +Company. + +Here the engagés felt at home. The fiddler sat on the top of the desk, +and men lounging on a row of benches around the walls sprang to their +feet and began to caper at the violin's first invitation. Such maids +and wives as were nearest the building were haled in, laughing, by +their relations; and in the absence of the agents, and of that awe +which goes with making your cross-mark on a paper, a quick carnival +was held on the spot where so many solemn contracts had been signed. +An odor of furs came from the packing-rooms around, mixed with gums +and incense-like whiffs. Added to this was the breath of the general +store kept by the agency. Tobacco and snuff, rum, chocolate, calico, +blankets, wood and iron utensils, fire-arms, West India sugar and +rice,--all sifted their invisible essences on the air. Unceiled joists +showed heavy and brown overhead. But there was no fireplace, for when +the straits stood locked in ice and the island was deep in snow, no +engagé claimed admission here. He would be a thousand miles away, +toiling on snow-shoes with his pack of furs through the trees, +or bargaining with trappers for his contribution to this month of +enormous traffic. + +Clean buckskin legs and brand-new belted hunting-shirts whirled on the +floor, brightened by sashes of crimson or kerchiefs of orange. Indians +from the reservation on Round Island, who happened to be standing, +like statues, in front of the building, turned and looked with lenient +eye on the performance of their French brothers. The fiddler was a +nervous little Frenchman with eyes like a weasel, and he detected +Jenieve Lalotte putting her head into the room. She glanced from +figure to figure of the dancers, searching through the twilight for +what she could not find; but before he could call her she was off. +None of the men, except a few Scotch-French, were very tall, but +they were a handsome, muscular race, fierce in enjoyment, yet with a +languor which prolonged it, and gave grace to every picturesque pose. +Not one of them wanted to pain Lalotte's girl, but, as they danced, +a joyful fellow would here and there spring high above the floor and +shout, "Good voyage to Michel Pensonneau and his new family!" They had +forgotten the one who amused them yesterday, and remembered only the +one who amused them to-day. + +Jenieve struck on Jean Bati' McClure's door, and faced his wife, +speechless, pointing to the schooner ploughing southward. + +"Yes, she's gone," said Jean Bati' McClure's wife, "and the boys with +her." + +The confidante came out on the step, and tried to lay her hand on +Jenieve's shoulder, but the girl moved backward from her. + +"Now let me tell you, it is a good thing for you, Jenieve Lalotte. You +can make a fine match of your own to-morrow. It is not natural for a +girl to live as you have lived. You are better off without them." + +"But my mother has left me!" + +"Well, I am sorry for you; but you were hard on her." + +"I blame you, madame!" + +"You might as well blame the priest, who thought it best not to let +them go unmarried. And she has taken a much worse man than Michel +Pensonneau in her time." + +"My mother and my brothers have left me here alone," repeated Jenieve; +and she wrung her hands and put them over her face. The trouble was so +overwhelming that it broke her down before her enemy. + +"Oh, don't take it to heart," said Jean Bati' McClure's wife, with +ready interest in the person nearest at hand. "Come and eat supper +with my man and me to-night, and sleep in our house if you are +afraid." + +Jenieve leaned her forehead against the hut, and made no reply to +these neighborly overtures. + +"Did she say nothing at all about me, madame?" + +"Yes; she was afraid you would come at the last minute and take her by +the arm and walk her home. You were too strict with her, and that is +the truth. She was glad to get away to Cahokia. They say it is fine in +the Illinois Territory. You know she is fond of seeing the world." + +The young supple creature trying to restrain her shivers and sobs of +anguish against the bark house side was really a moving sight; and +Jean Bati' McClure's wife, flattening a masculine upper lip with +resolution, said promptly,-- + +"I am going this moment to the Fur Company's quarters to send young +Monsieur Crooks after you." + +At that Jenieve fled along the beach and took to the bushes. As she +ran, weeping aloud like a child, she watched the lessening schooner; +and it seemed a monstrous thing, out of nature, that her mother was +on that little ship, fleeing from her, with a thoughtless face set +smiling towards a new world. She climbed on, to keep the schooner in +sight, and made for Pontiac's Lookout, reckless of what she had seen +there. + +The distant canvas became one leaning sail, and then a speck, and +then nothing. There was an afterglow on the water which turned it to +a wavering pavement of yellow-pink sheen. In that clear, high +atmosphere, mainland shores and islands seemed to throw out the +evening purples from themselves, and thus to slowly reach for one +another and form darkness. Jenieve had lain on the grass, crying, "O +Mama--François--Toussaint--Gabriel!" But she sat up at last, with her +dejected head on her breast, submitting to the pettiness and treachery +of what she loved. Bats flew across the open place. A sudden rankness +of sweetbrier, taking her breath away by its icy puff, reminded her of +other things, and she tried to get up and run. Instead of running she +seemed to move sidewise out of herself, and saw Pontiac standing on +the edge of the cliff. His head turned from St. Ignace to the reviving +fires on Round Island, and slowly back again from Round Island to St. +Ignace. Jenieve felt as if she were choking, but again she asked out +of her heart to his,-- + +"Monsieur the chief Pontiac, what ails the French and Indians?" + +He floated around to face her, the high ridges of his bleached +features catching light; but this time he showed only dim dead eyes. +His head sunk on his breast, and Jenieve could see the fronds of the +feathers he wore traced indistinctly against the sky. The dead eyes +searched for her and could not see her; he whispered hoarsely to +himself, "Malatat!" + +The voice of the living world calling her name sounded directly +afterwards in the woods, and Jenieve leaped as if she were shot. She +had the instinct that her lover must not see this thing, for there +were reasons of race and religion against it. But she need not +have feared that Pontiac would show himself, or his long and savage +mourning for the destruction of the red man, to any descendant of +the English. As the bushes closed behind her she looked back: the +phosphoric blur was already so far in the west that she could hardly +be sure she saw it again. And the young agent of the Fur Company, +breaking his way among leaves, met her with both hands; saying gayly, +to save her the shock of talking about her mother:-- + +"Come home, come home, my sweetbrier maid. No wonder you smell +of sweetbrier. I am rank with it myself, rubbing against the dewy +bushes." + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Chase Of Saint-Castin And Other +Stories Of The French In The New World, by Mary Hartwell Catherwood + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12199 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e43c111 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #12199 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12199) diff --git a/old/12199-8.txt b/old/12199-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c014a4b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12199-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5398 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Chase Of Saint-Castin And Other Stories +Of The French In The New World, by Mary Hartwell Catherwood + +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 Chase Of Saint-Castin And Other Stories Of The French In The New World + +Author: Mary Hartwell Catherwood + +Release Date: April 29, 2004 [EBook #12199] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHASE OF SAINT-CASTIN *** + + + + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Leah Moser and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + + + + + + + +THE CHASE OF SAINT-CASTIN + +AND OTHER STORIES OF + +THE FRENCH IN THE + +NEW WORLD + + + +BY + +MARY HARTWELL CATHERWOOD + +[Illustration] + +1894 + + + + +THE CHASE OF SAINT-CASTIN. + + +The waiting April woods, sensitive in every leafless twig to spring, +stood in silence and dim nightfall around a lodge. Wherever a human +dwelling is set in the wilderness, it becomes, by the very humility of +its proportions, a prominent and aggressive point. But this lodge +of bark and poles was the color of the woods, and nearly escaped +intruding as man's work. A glow lighted the top, revealing the faint +azure of smoke which rose straight upward in the cool, clear air. + +Such a habitation usually resounded at nightfall with Indian noises, +especially if the day's hunting had been good. The mossy rocks lying +around, were not more silent than the inmates of this lodge. You could +hear the Penobscot River foaming along its uneasy bed half a mile +eastward. The poles showed freshly cut disks of yellow at the top; and +though the bark coverings were such movables as any Indian household +carried, they were newly fastened to their present support. This was +plainly the night encampment of a traveling party, and two French +hunters and their attendant Abenaquis recognized that, as it barred +their trail to the river. An odor of roasted meat was wafted out like +an invitation to them. + +"Excellent, Saint-Castin," pronounced the older Frenchman. "Here +is another of your wilderness surprises. No wonder you prefer an +enchanted land to the rough mountains around Béarn. I shall never go +back to France myself." + +"Stop, La Hontan!" The young man restrained his guest from plunging +into the wigwam with a headlong gesture recently learned and practiced +with delight. "I never saw this lodge before." + +"Did you not have it set up here for the night?" + +"No; it is not mine. Our Abenaquis are going to build one for us +nearer the river." + +"I stay here," observed La Hontan. "Supper is ready, and adventures +are in the air." + +"But this is not a hunter's lodge. You see that our very dogs +understand they have no business here. Come on." + +"Come on, without seeing who is hid herein? No. I begin to think it is +something thou wouldst conceal from me. I go in; and if it be a bear +trap, I cheerfully perish." + +The young Frenchman stood resting the end of his gun on sodden leaves. +He felt vexed at La Hontan. But that inquisitive nobleman stooped +to lift the tent flap, and the young man turned toward his waiting +Indians and talked a moment in Abenaqui, when they went on in the +direction of the river, carrying game and camp luggage. They thought, +as he did, that this might be a lodge with which no man ought to +meddle. The daughter of Madockawando, the chief, was known to be +coming from her winter retreat. Every Abenaqui in the tribe stood +in awe of the maid. She did not rule them as a wise woman, but lived +apart from them as a superior spirit. + +Baron La Hontan, on all fours, intruded his gay face on the inmates of +the lodge. There were three of them. His palms encountered a carpet +of hemlock twigs, which spread around a central fire to the circular +wall, and was made sweetly odorous by the heat. A thick couch of the +twigs was piled up beyond the fire, and there sat an Abenaqui girl in +her winter dress of furs. She was so white-skinned that she startled +La Hontan as an apparition of Europe. He got but one black-eyed +glance. She drew her blanket over her head. The group had doubtless +heard the conference outside, but ignored it with reticent gravity. +The hunter of the lodge was on his heels by the embers, toasting +collops of meat for the blanketed princess; and an Etchemin woman, the +other inmate, took one from his hand, and paused, while dressing it +with salt, to gaze at the Frenchman. + +La Hontan had not found himself distasteful to northwestern Indian +girls. It was the first time an aboriginal face had ever covered +itself from exposure to his eyes. He felt the sudden respect which +nuns command, even in those who scoff at their visible consecration. +The usual announcement made on entering a cabin--"I come to see this +man," or "I come to see that woman,"--he saw was to be omitted in +addressing this strangely civilized Indian girl. + +"Mademoiselle," said Baron La Hontan in very French Abenaqui, rising +to one knee, and sweeping the twigs with the brim of his hat as he +pulled it off, "the Baron de Saint-Castin of Pentegoet, the friend of +your chief Madockawando, is at your lodge door, tired and chilled from +a long hunt. Can you not permit him to warm at your fire?" + +The Abenaqui girl bowed her covered head. Her woman companion passed +the permission on, and the hunter made it audible by a grunt of +assent. La Hontan backed nimbly out, and seized the waiting man by the +leg. The main portion of the baron was in the darkening April woods, +but his perpendicular soles stood behind the flap within the lodge. + +"Enter, my child," he whispered in excitement. "A warm fire, +hot collops, a black eye to be coaxed out of a blanket, and full +permission given to enjoy all. What, man! Out of countenance at +thought of facing a pretty squaw, when you have three keeping house +with you at the fort?" + +"Come out, La Hontan," whispered back Saint-Castin, on his part +grasping the elder's arm. "It is Madockawando's daughter." + +"The red nun thou hast told me about? The saints be praised! But art +thou sure?" + +"How can I be sure? I have never seen her myself. But I judge from her +avoiding your impudent eye. She does not like to be looked at." + +"It was my mentioning the name of Saint-Castin of Pentegoet that +made her whip her head under the blanket. I see, if I am to keep my +reputation in the woods, I shall have to withdraw from your company." + +"Withdraw your heels from this lodge," replied Saint-Castin +impatiently. "You will embroil me with the tribe." + +"Why should it embroil you with the tribe," argued the merry sitter, +"if we warm our heels decently at this ready fire until the Indians +light our own? Any Christian, white or red, would grant us that +privilege." + +"If I enter with you, will you come out with me as soon as I make you +a sign?" + +"Doubt it not," said La Hontan, and he eclipsed himself directly. + +Though Saint-Castin had been more than a year in Acadia, this was the +first time he had ever seen Madockawando's daughter. He knew it was +that elusive being, on her way from her winter retreat to the tribe's +summer fishing station near the coast. Father Petit, the priest of +this woodland parish, spoke of her as one who might in time found a +house of holy women amidst the license of the wilderness. + +Saint-Castin wanted to ask her pardon for entering; but he sat without +a sound. Some power went out from that silent shape far stronger than +the hinted beauty of girlish ankle and arm. The glow of brands lighted +the lodge, showing the bark seams on its poles. Pale smoke and the +pulse of heat quivered betwixt him and a presence which, by some swift +contrast, made his face burn at the recollection of his household +at Pentegoet. He had seen many good women in his life, with the +patronizing tolerance which men bestow on unpiquant things that are +harmless; and he did not understand why her hiding should stab him +like a reproach. She hid from all common eyes. But his were not common +eyes. Saint-Castin felt impatient at getting no recognition from a +girl, saint though she might be, whose tribe he had actually adopted. + +The blunt-faced Etchemin woman, once a prisoner brought from northern +Acadia, now the companion of Madockawando's daughter, knew her duty to +the strangers, and gave them food as rapidly as the hunter could broil +it. The hunter was a big-legged, small-headed Abenaqui, with knees +over-topping his tuft of hair when he squatted on his heels. He looked +like a man whose emaciated trunk and arms had been taken possession of +by colossal legs and feet. This singular deformity made him the best +hunter in his tribe. He tracked game with a sweep of great beams as +tireless as the tread of a modern steamer. The little sense in his +head was woodcraft. He thought of nothing but taking and dressing +game. + +Saint-Castin barely tasted the offered meat; but La Hontan enjoyed it +unabashed, warming himself while he ate, and avoiding any chance of a +hint from his friend that the meal should be cut short. + +"My child," he said in lame Abenaqui to the Etchemin woman, while his +sly regard dwelt on the blanket-robed statue opposite, "I wish you the +best of gifts, a good husband." + +The Etchemin woman heard him in such silence as one perhaps brings +from making a long religious retreat, and forbore to explain that +she already had the best of gifts, and was the wife of the big-legged +hunter. + +"I myself had an aunt who, never married," warned La Hontan. "She +was an excellent woman, but she turned like fruit withered in the +ripening. The fantastic airs of her girlhood clung to her. She was at +a disadvantage among the married, and young people passed her by as +an experiment that had failed. So she was driven to be very religious; +but prayers are cold comfort for the want of a bouncing family." + +If the Etchemin woman had absorbed from her mistress a habit of +meditation which shut out the world, Saint-Castin had not. He gave La +Hontan the sign to move before him out of the lodge, and no choice +but to obey it, crowding the reluctant and comfortable man into +undignified attitudes. La Hontan saw that he had taken offense. There +was no accounting for the humors of those disbanded soldiers of the +Carignan-Salières, though Saint-Castin was usually a gentle fellow. +They spread out their sensitive military honor over every inch of +their new seigniories; and if you chucked the wrong little Indian or +habitant's naked baby under the chin, you might unconsciously stir +up war in the mind of your host. La Hontan was glad he was directly +leaving Acadia. He was fond of Saint-Castin. Few people could approach +that young man without feeling the charm which made the Indians adore +him. But any one who establishes himself in the woods loses touch with +the light manners of civilization; his very vices take on an air of +brutal candor. + +Next evening, however, both men were merry by the hall fire at +Pentegoet over their parting cup. La Hontan was returning to Quebec. +A vessel waited the tide at the Penobscot's mouth, a bay which the +Indians call "bad harbor." + +The long, low, and irregular building which Saint-Castin had +constructed as his baronial seat was as snug as the governor's castle +at Quebec. It was only one story high, and the small square +windows were set under the eaves, so outsiders could not look in. +Saint-Castin's enemies said he built thus to hide his deeds; but +Father Petit himself could see how excellent a plan it was for +defense. A holding already claimed by the encroaching English needed +loop-holes, not windows. The fort surrounding the house was also well +adapted to its situation. Twelve cannon guarded the bastions. All the +necessary buildings, besides a chapel with a bell, were within the +walls, and a deep well insured a supply of water. A garden and fruit +orchard were laid out opposite the fort, and encompassed by palisades. + +The luxury of the house consisted in an abundant use of crude, +unpolished material. Though built grotesquely of stone and wood +intermingled, it had the solid dignity of that rugged coast. A chimney +spacious as a crater let smoke and white ashes upward, and sections of +trees smouldered on Saint-Castin's hearth. An Indian girl, ruddy from +high living, and wearing the brightest stuffs imported from France, +sat on the floor at the hearth corner. This was the usual night scene +at Pentegoet. Candle and firelight shone on her, on oak timbers, and +settles made of unpeeled balsam, on plate and glasses which always +heaped a table with ready food and drink, on moose horns and gun +racks, on stores of books, on festoons of wampum, and usually on a +dozen figures beside Saint-Castin. The other rooms in the house were +mere tributaries to this baronial presence chamber. Madockawando and +the dignitaries of the Abenaqui tribe made it their council hall, the +white sagamore presiding. They were superior to rude western nations. +It was Saint-Castin's plan to make a strong principality here, and to +unite his people in a compact state. He lavished his inherited money +upon them. Whatever they wanted from Saint-Castin they got, as from a +father. On their part, they poured the wealth of the woods upon him. +Not a beaver skin went out of Acadia except through his hands. The +traders of New France grumbled at his profits and monopoly, and the +English of New England claimed his seigniory. He stood on debatable +ground, in dangerous times, trying to mould an independent nation. +The Abenaquis did not know that a king of France had been reared +on Saint-Castin's native mountains, but they believed that a human +divinity had. + +Their permanent settlement was about the fort, on land he had paid +for, but held in common with them. They went to their winter's hunting +or their summer's fishing from Pentegoet. It was the seat of power. +The cannon protected fields and a town of lodges which Saint-Castin +meant to convert into a town of stone and hewed wood houses as soon as +the aboriginal nature conformed itself to such stability. Even now +the village had left home and gone into the woods again. The Abenaqui +women were busy there, inserting tubes of bark in pierced maple-trees, +and troughs caught the flow of ascending sap. Kettles boiled over +fires in the bald spaces, incense of the forest's very heart rising +from them and sweetening the air. All day Indian children raced from +one mother's fire to another, or dipped unforbidden cups of hands into +the brimming troughs; and at night they lay down among the dogs, with +their heels to the blaze, watching these lower constellations blink +through the woods until their eyes swam into unconsciousness. It was +good weather for making maple sugar. In the mornings hoar frost +or light snows silvered the world, disappearing as soon as the sun +touched them, when the bark of every tree leaked moisture. This was +festive labor compared with planting the fields, and drew the men, +also. + +The morning after La Hontan sailed, Saint-Castin went out and skirted +this wide-spread sugar industry like a spy. The year before, he had +moved heartily from fire to fire, hailed and entertained by every red +manufacturer. The unrest of spring was upon him. He had brought many +conveniences among the Abenaquis, and taught them some civilized arts. +They were his adopted people. But he felt a sudden separateness from +them, like the loneliness of his early boyhood. + +Saint-Castin was a good hunter. He had more than once watched a slim +young doe stand gazing curiously at him, and had not startled it by a +breath. Therefore he was able to become a stump behind the tree which +Madockawando's daughter sought with her sap pail. Usually he wore +buckskins, in the free and easy life of Pentegoet. But he had put on +his Carignan-Salières uniform, filling its boyish outlines with his +full man's figure. He would not on any account have had La Hontan see +him thus gathering the light of the open woods on military finery. +He felt ashamed of returning to it, and could not account for his +own impulses; and when he saw Madockawando's daughter walking +unconsciously toward him as toward a trap, he drew his bright surfaces +entirely behind the column of the tree. + +She had taken no part in this festival of labor for several years. She +moved among the women still in solitude, not one of them feeling at +liberty to draw near her except as she encouraged them. The Abenaquis +were not a polygamous tribe, but they enjoyed the freedom of the +woods. Squaws who had made several experimental marriages since +this young celibate began her course naturally felt rebuked by her +standards, and preferred stirring kettles to meeting her. It was not +so long since the princess had been a hoiden among them, abounding +in the life which rushes to extravagant action. Her juvenile whoops +scared the birds. She rode astride of saplings, and played pranks +on solemn old warriors and the medicine-man. Her body grew into +suppleness and beauty. As for her spirit, the women of the tribe knew +very little about it. They saw none of her struggles. In childhood +she was ashamed of the finer nature whose wants found no answer in +her world. It was anguish to look into the faces of her kindred and +friends as into the faces of hounds who live, it is true, but a lower +life, made up of chasing and eating. She wondered why she was created +different from them. A loyalty of race constrained her sometimes to +imitate them; but it was imitation; she could not be a savage. Then +Father Petit came, preceding Saint-Castin, and set up his altar and +built his chapel. The Abenaqui girl was converted as soon as she +looked in at the door and saw the gracious image of Mary lifted up to +be her pattern of womanhood. Those silent and terrible days, when she +lost interest in the bustle of living, and felt an awful homesickness +for some unknown good, passed entirely away. Religion opened an +invisible world. She sprang toward it, lying on the wings of her +spirit and gazing forever above. The minutest observances of the +Church were learned with an exactness which delighted a priest who had +not too many encouragements. Finally, she begged her father to let +her make a winter retreat to some place near the headwaters of the +Penobscot. When the hunters were abroad, it did them no harm to +remember there was a maid in a wilderness cloister praying for the +good of her people; and when they were fortunate, they believed in the +material advantage of her prayers. Nobody thought of searching out her +hidden cell, or of asking the big-legged hunter and his wife to tell +its mysteries. The dealer with invisible spirits commanded respect in +Indian minds before the priest came. + +Madockawando's daughter was of a lighter color than most of her tribe, +and finer in her proportions, though they were a well-made people. She +was the highest expression of unadulterated Abenaqui blood. She set +her sap pail down by the trough, and Saint-Castin shifted silently to +watch her while she dipped the juice. Her eyelids were lowered. She +had well-marked brows, and the high cheek-bones were lost in a general +acquiline rosiness. It was a girl's face, modest and sweet, that he +saw; reflecting the society of holier beings than the one behind the +tree. She had no blemish of sunken temples or shrunk features, or the +glaring aspect of a devotee. Saint-Castin was a good Catholic, but he +did not like fanatics. It was as if the choicest tree in the forest +had been flung open, and a perfect woman had stepped out, whom no +other man's eye had seen. Her throat was round, and at the base of it, +in the little hollow where women love to nestle ornaments, hung the +cross of her rosary, which she wore twisted about her neck. The +beads were large and white, and the cross was ivory. Father Petit had +furnished them, blessed for their purpose, to his incipient abbess, +but Saint-Castin noticed how they set off the dark rosiness of her +skin. The collar of her fur dress was pushed back, for the day was +warm, like an autumn day when there is no wind. A luminous smoke which +magnified the light hung between treetops and zenith. The nakedness of +the swelling forest let heaven come strangely close to the ground. It +was like standing on a mountain plateau in a gray dazzle of clouds. + +Madockawando's daughter dipped her pail full of the clear water. The +appreciative motion of her eyelashes and the placid lines of her face +told how she enjoyed the limpid plaything. But Saint-Castin understood +well that she had not come out to boil sap entirely for the love of +it. Father Petit believed the time was ripe for her ministry to the +Abenaqui women. He had intimated to the seignior what land might be +convenient for the location of a convent. The community was now to +be drawn around her. Other girls must take vows when she did. Some +half-covered children, who stalked her wherever she went, stood like +terra-cotta images at a distance and waited for her next movement. + +The girl had just finished her dipping when she looked up and met the +steady gaze of Saint-Castin. He was in an anguish of dread that she +would run. But her startled eyes held his image while three changes +passed over her,--terror and recognition and disapproval. He stepped +more into view, a white-and-gold apparition, which scattered the +Abenaqui children to their mothers' camp-fires. + +"I am Saint-Castin," he said. + +"Yes, I have many times seen you, sagamore." + +Her voice, shaken a little by her heart, was modulated to such +softness that the liquid gutturals gave him a distinct new pleasure. + +"I want to ask your pardon for my friend's rudeness, when you warmed +and fed us in your lodge." + +"I did not listen to him." Her fingers sought the cross on her +neck. She seemed to threaten a prayer which might stop her ears to +Saint-Castin. + +"He meant no discourtesy. If you knew his good heart, you would like +him." + +"I do not like men." She made a calm statement of her peculiar tastes. + +"Why?" inquired Saint-Castin. + +Madockawando's daughter summoned her reasons from distant vistas of +the woods, with meditative dark eyes. Evidently her dislike of men had +no element of fear or of sentimental avoidance. + +"I cannot like them," she apologized, declining to set forth her +reasons. "I wish they would always stay away from me." + +"Your father and the priest are men." + +"I know it," admitted the girl, with a deep breath like commiseration. +"They cannot help it; and our Etchemin's husband, who keeps the lodge +supplied with meat, he cannot help it, either, any more than he can +his deformity. But there is grace for men," she added. "They may, +by repenting of their sins and living holy lives, finally save their +souls." + +Saint-Castin repented of his sins that moment, and tried to look +contrite. + +"In some of my books," he said, "I read of an old belief held by +people on the other side of the earth. They thought our souls were +born into the world a great many times, now in this body, and now in +that. I feel as if you and I had been friends in some other state." + +The girl's face seemed to flare toward him as flame is blown, +acknowledging the claim he made upon her; but the look passed like an +illusion, and she said seriously, "The sagamore should speak to Father +Petit. This is heresy." + +Madockawando's daughter stood up, and took her pail by the handle. + +"Let me carry it," said Saint-Castin. + +Her lifted palm barred his approach. + +"I do not like men, sagamore. I wish them to keep away from me." + +"But that is not Christian," he argued. + +"It cannot be unchristian: the priest would lay me under penance for +it." + +"Father Petit is a lenient soul." + +With the simplicity of an angel who would not be longer hindered by +mundane society, she took up her pail, saying, "Good-day, sagamore," +and swept on across the dead leaves. + +Saint-Castin walked after her. + +"Go back," commanded Madockawando's daughter, turning. + +The officer of the Carignan-Salières regiment halted, but did not +retreat. + +"You must not follow me, sagamore," she remonstrated, as with a child. +"I cannot talk to you." + +"You must let me talk to you," said Saint-Castin. "I want you for my +wife." + +She looked at him in a way that made his face scorch. He remembered +the year wife, the half-year wife, and the two-months wife at +Pentegoet. These three squaws whom he had allowed to form his +household, and had taught to boil the pot au feu, came to him from +many previous experimental marriages. They were externals of his life, +much as hounds, boats, or guns. He could give them all rich dowers, +and divorce them easily any day to a succeeding line of legal Abenaqui +husbands. The lax code of the wilderness was irresistible to a +Frenchman; but he was near enough in age and in texture of soul +to this noble pagan to see at once, with her eyesight, how he had +degraded the very vices of her people. + +"Before the sun goes down," vowed Saint-Castin, "there shall be nobody +in my house but the two Etchemin slave men that your father gave me." + +The girl heard of his promised reformation without any kindling of the +spirit. + +"I am not for a wife," she answered him, and walked on with the pail. + +Again Saint-Castin followed her, and took the sap pail from her hand. +He set it aside on the leaves, and folded his arms. The blood came +and went in his face. He was not used to pleading with women. They +belonged to him easily, like his natural advantages over barbarians +in a new world. The slopes of the Pyrenees bred strong-limbed men, +cautious in policy, striking and bold in figure and countenance. The +English themselves have borne witness to his fascinations. Manhood had +darkened only the surface of his skin, a milk-white cleanness breaking +through it like the outflushing of some inner purity. His eyes and +hair had a golden beauty. It would have been strange if he had not +roused at least a degree of comradeship in the aboriginal woman living +up to her highest aspirations. + +"I love you. I have thought of you, of nobody but you, even when I +behaved the worst. You have kept yourself hid from me, while I have +been thinking about you ever since I came to Acadia. You are the woman +I want to marry." + +Madockawando's daughter shook her head. She had patience with his +fantastic persistence, but it annoyed her. + +"I am not for a wife," she repeated. "I do not like men." + +"Is it that you do not like me?" + +"No," she answered sincerely, probing her mind for the truth. "You +yourself are different from our Abenaqui men." + +"Then why do you make me unhappy?" + +"I do not make you unhappy. I do not even think of you." + +Again she took to her hurried course, forgetting the pail of sap. +Saint-Castin seized it, and once more followed her. + +"I beg that you will kiss me," he pleaded, trembling. + +The Abenaqui girl laughed aloud. + +"Does the sagamore think he is an object of veneration, that I should +kiss him?" + +"But will you not at least touch your lips to my forehead?" + +"No. I touch my lips to holy things." + +"You do not understand the feeling I have." + +"No, I do not understand it. If you talked every day, it would do no +good. My thoughts are different." + +Saint-Castin gave her the pail, and looked her in the eyes. + +"Perhaps you will some time understand," he said. "I lived many wild +years before I did." + +She was so glad to leave him behind that her escape was like a +backward blow, and he did not make enough allowance for the natural +antagonism of a young girl. Her beautiful free motion was something to +watch. She was a convert whose penances were usually worked out afoot, +for Father Petit knew better than to shut her up. + +Saint-Castin had never dreamed there were such women. She was like a +nymph out of a tree, without human responsiveness, yet with round arms +and waist and rosy column of neck, made to be helplessly adored. He +remembered the lonesome moods of his early youth. They must have been +a premonition of his fate in falling completely under the spell of an +unloving woman. + +Saint-Castin took a roundabout course, and went to Madockawando's +lodge, near the fort. All the members of the family, except the old +chief, were away at the sugar-making. The great Abenaqui's dignity +would not allow him to drag in fuel to the fire, so he squatted +nursing the ashes, and raked out a coal to light tobacco for himself +and Saint-Castin. The white sagamore had never before come in full +uniform to a private talk, and it was necessary to smoke half an hour +before a word could be said. + +There was a difference between the chatter of civilized men and the +deliberations of barbarians. With La Hontan, the Baron de Saint-Castin +would have led up to his business by a long prelude on other subjects. +With Madockawando, he waited until the tobacco had mellowed both their +spirits, and then said,-- + +"Father, I want to marry your daughter in the French way, with priest +and contract, and make her the Baroness de Saint-Castin." + +Madockawando, on his part, smoked the matter fairly out. He put an arm +on the sagamore's shoulder, and lamented the extreme devotion of his +daughter. It was a good religion which the black-robed father had +brought among the Abenaquis, but who had ever heard of a woman's +refusing to look at men before that religion came? His own child, when +she was at home with the tribe, lived as separate from the family and +as independently as a war-chief. In his time, the women dressed game +and carried the children and drew sledges. What would happen if his +daughter began to teach them, in a house by themselves, to do nothing +but pray? Madockawando repeated that his son, the sagamore, and +his father, the priest, had a good religion, but they might see for +themselves what the Abenaqui tribe would come to when the women all +set up for medicine squaws. Then there was his daughter's hiding in +winter to make what she called her retreats, and her proposing to take +a new name from some of the priest's okies or saint-spirits, and to be +called "Sister." + +"I will never call my own child 'Sister,'" vowed Madockawando. "I +could be a better Christian myself, if Father Petit had not put spells +on her." + +The two conspirators against Father Petit's proposed nunnery felt +grave and wicked, but they encouraged one another in iniquity. +Madockawando smiled in bronze wrinkles when Saint-Castin told him +about the proposal in the woods. The proper time for courtship was +evening, as any Frenchman who had lived a year with the tribe ought to +know; but when one considered the task he had undertaken, any time +was suitable; and the chief encouraged him with full consent. A French +marriage contract was no better than an Abenaqui marriage contract in +Madockawando's eyes; but if Saint-Castin could bind up his daughter +for good, he would be glad of it. + +The chapel of saplings and bark which first sheltered Father Petit's +altar had been abandoned when Saint-Castin built a substantial one +of stone and timber within the fortress walls, and hung in its little +tower a bell, which the most reluctant Abenaqui must hear at mass +time. But as it is well to cherish the sacred regard which man has for +any spot where he has worshiped, the priest left a picture hanging on +the wall above the bare chancel, and he kept the door repaired on its +wooden hinges. The chapel stood beyond the forest, east of Pentegoet, +and close to those battlements which form the coast line here. The +tide made thunder as it rose among caverns and frothed almost at the +verge of the heights. From this headland Mount Desert could be seen, +leading the host of islands which go out into the Atlantic, ethereal +in fog or lurid in the glare of sunset. + +Madockawando's daughter tended the old chapel in summer, for she had +first seen religion through its door. She wound the homely chancel +rail with evergreens, and put leaves and red berries on the walls, and +flowers under the sacred picture; her Etchemin woman always keeping +her company. Father Petit hoped to see this rough shrine become a +religious seminary, and strings of women led there every day to take, +like contagion, from an abbess the instruction they took so slowly +from a priest. + +She and the Etchemin found it a dismal place, on their first visit +after the winter retreat. She reproached herself for coming so late; +but day and night an influence now encompassed Madockawando's daughter +which she felt as a restraint on her freedom. A voice singing softly +the love-songs of southern France often waked her from her sleep. The +words she could not interpret, but the tone the whole village could, +and she blushed, crowding paters on aves, until her voice sometimes +became as distinct as Saint-Castin's in resolute opposition. It was so +grotesque that it made her laugh. Yet to a woman the most formidable +quality in a suitor is determination. + +When the three girls who had constituted Saint-Castin's household +at the fort passed complacently back to their own homes laden with +riches, Madockawando's daughter was unreasonably angry, and felt their +loss as they were incapable of feeling it for themselves. She was +alien to the customs of her people. The fact pressed upon her that her +people were completely bound to the white sagamore and all his deeds. +Saint-Castin's sins had been open to the tribe, and his repentance was +just as open. Father Petit praised him. + +"My son Jean Vincent de l'Abadie, Baron de Saint-Castin, has need of +spiritual aid to sustain him in the paths of virtue," said the priest +impressively, "and he is seeking it." + +At every church service the lax sinner was now on his knees in plain +sight of the devotee; but she never looked at him. All the tribe soon +knew what he had at heart, and it was told from camp-fire to camp-fire +how he sat silent every night in the hall at Pentegoet, with his hair +ruffled on his forehead, growing more haggard from day to day. + +The Abenaqui girl did not talk with other women about what happened in +the community. Dead saints crowded her mind to the exclusion of living +sinners. All that she heard came by way of her companion, the stolid +Etchemin, and when it was unprofitable talk it was silenced. They +labored together all the chill April afternoon, bringing the chapel +out of its winter desolation. The Etchemin made brooms of hemlock, and +brushed down cobwebs and dust, and laboriously swept the rocky earthen +floor, while the princess, standing upon a scaffold of split log +benches, wiped the sacred picture and set a border of tender moss +around it. It was a gaudy red print representing a pierced heart. +The Indian girl kissed every sanguinary drop which dribbled down the +coarse paper. Fog and salt air had given it a musty odor, and stained +the edges with mildew. She found it no small labor to cover these +stains, and pin the moss securely in place with thorns. + +There were no windows in this chapel. A platform of hewed slabs had +supported the altar; and when the princess came down, and the benches +were replaced, she lifted one of these slabs, as she had often done +before, to look into the earthen-floored box which they made. Little +animals did not take refuge in the wind-beaten building. She often +wondered that it stood; though the light materials used by aboriginal +tribes, when anchored to the earth as this house was, toughly resisted +wind and weather. + +The Etchemin sat down on the ground, and her mistress on the platform +behind the chancel rail, when everything else was done, to make a +fresh rope of evergreen. The climbing and reaching and lifting had +heated their faces, and the cool salt air flowed in, refreshing +them. Their hands were pricked by the spiny foliage, but they labored +without complaint, in unbroken meditation. A monotonous low singing +of the Etchemin's kept company with the breathing of the sea. This +decking of the chapel acted like music on the Abenaqui girl. She +wanted to be quiet, to enjoy it. + +By the time they were ready to shut the door for the night the splash +of a rising tide could be heard. Fog obliterated the islands, and a +bleak gray twilight, like the twilights of winter, began to dim the +woods. + +"The sagamore has made a new law," said the Etchemin woman, as they +came in sight of the fort. + +Madockawando's daughter looked at the unguarded bastions, and the +chimneys of Pentegoet rising in a stack above the walls. + +"What new law has the sagamore made?" she inquired. + +"He says he will no more allow a man to put away his first and true +wife, for he is convinced that God does not love inconstancy in men." + +"The sagamore should have kept his first wife himself." + +"But he says he has not yet had her," answered the Etchemin woman, +glancing aside at the princess. "The sagamore will not see the end of +the sugar-making to-night." + +"Because he sits alone every night by his fire," said Madockawando's +daughter; "there is too much talk about the sagamore. It is the end of +the sugar-making that your mind is set on." + +"My husband is at the camps," said the Etchemin plaintively. "Besides, +I am very tired." + +"Rest yourself, therefore, by tramping far to wait on your husband +and keep his hands filled with warm sugar. I am tired, and I go to my +lodge." + +"But there is a feast in the camps, and nobody has thought of putting +a kettle on in the village. I will first get your meat ready." + +"No, I intend to observe a fast to-night. Go on to the camps, and +serve my family there." + +The Etchemin looked toward the darkening bay, and around them at those +thickening hosts of invisible terrors which are yet dreaded by more +enlightened minds than hers. + +"No," responded the princess, "I am not afraid. Go on to the camps +while you have the courage to be abroad alone." + +The Etchemin woman set off at a trot, her heavy body shaking, and +distance soon swallowed her. Madockawando's daughter stood still in +the humid dimness before turning aside to her lodge. Perhaps the ruddy +light which showed through the open fortress gate from the hall of +Pentegoet gave her a feeling of security. She knew a man was there; +and there was not a man anywhere else within half a league. It was the +last great night of sugar-making. Not even an Abenaqui woman or child +remained around the fort. Father Petit himself was at the camps to +restrain riot. It would be a hard patrol for him, moving from fire to +fire half the night. The master of Pentegoet rested very carelessly in +his hold. It was hardly a day's sail westward to the English post of +Pemaquid. Saint-Castin had really made ready for his people's spring +sowing and fishing with some anxiety for their undisturbed peace. +Pemaquid aggressed on him, and he seriously thought of fitting out a +ship and burning Pemaquid. In that time, as in this, the strong hand +upheld its own rights at any cost. + +The Abenaqui girl stood under the north-west bastion, letting +early night make its impressions on her. Her motionless figure, +in indistinct garments, could not be seen from the river; but she +discerned, rising up the path from the water, one behind the other, a +row of peaked hats. Beside the hats appeared gunstocks. She had never +seen any English, but neither her people nor the French showed such +tops, or came stealthily up from the boat landing under cover of +night. She did not stop to count them. Their business must be with +Saint-Castin. She ran along the wall. The invaders would probably see +her as she tried to close the gate; it had settled on its hinges, and +was too heavy for her. She thought of ringing the chapel bell; +but before any Abenaqui could reach the spot the single man in the +fortress must be overpowered. + +Saint-Castin stood on his bachelor hearth, leaning an arm on the +mantel. The light shone on his buckskin fringes, his dejected +shoulders, and his clean-shaven youthful face. A supper stood on the +table near him, where his Etchemin servants had placed it before they +trotted off to the camps. The high windows flickered, and there was +not a sound in the house except the low murmur or crackle of the +glowing backlog, until the door-latch clanked, and the door flew wide +and was slammed shut again. Saint-Castin looked up with a frown, which +changed to stupid astonishment. + +Madockawando's daughter seized him by the wrist. + +"Is there any way out of the fort except through the gate?" + +"None," answered Saint-Castin. + +"Is there no way of getting over the wall?" + +"The ladder can be used." + +"Run, then, to the ladder! Be quick." + +"What is the matter?" demanded Saint-Castin. + +The Abenaqui girl dragged on him with all her strength as he reached +for the iron door-latch. + +"Not that way--they will see you--they are coming from the river! Go +through some other door." + +"Who are coming?" + +Yielding himself to her will, Saint-Castin hurried with her from room +to room, and out through his kitchen, where the untidy implements of +his Etchemin slaves lay scattered about. They ran past the storehouse, +and he picked up a ladder and set it against the wall. + +"I will run back and ring the chapel bell," panted the girl. + +"Mount!" said Saint-Castin sternly; and she climbed the ladder, +convinced that he would not leave her behind. + +He sat on the wall and dragged the ladder up, and let it down on the +outside. As they both reached the ground, he understood what enemy had +nearly trapped him in his own fortress. + +"The doors were all standing wide," said a cautious nasal voice, +speaking English, at the other side of the wall. "Our fox hath barely +sprung from cover. He must be near." + +"Is not that the top of a ladder?" inquired another voice. + +At this there was a rush for the gate. Madockawando's daughter ran +like the wind, with Saint-Castin's hand locked in hers. She knew, by +night or day, every turn of the slender trail leading to the deserted +chapel. It came to her mind as the best place of refuge. They were cut +off from the camps, because they must cross their pursuers on the way. + +The lord of Pentegoet could hear bushes crackling behind him. The +position of the ladder had pointed the direction of the chase. He +laughed in his headlong flight. This was not ignominious running from +foes, but a royal exhilaration. He could run all night, holding the +hand that guided him. Unheeded branches struck him across the face. +He shook his hair back and flew light-footed, the sweep of the +magnificent body beside him keeping step. He could hear the tide boom +against the headland, and the swish of its recoiling waters. The girl +had her way with him. It did not occur to the officer of the Carignan +regiment that he should direct the escape, or in any way oppose the +will manifested for the first time in his favor. She felt for the +door of the, dark little chapel, and drew him in and closed it. His +judgment rejected the place, but without a word he groped at her side +across to the chancel rail. She lifted the loose slab of the platform, +and tried to thrust him into the earthen-floored box. + +"Hide yourself first," whispered Saint-Castin. + +They could hear feet running on the flinty approach. The chase was so +close that the English might have seen them enter the chapel. + +"Get in, get in!" begged the Abenaqui girl. "They will not hurt me." + +"Hide!" said Saint-Castin, thrusting her fiercely in. "Would they not +carry off the core of Saint-Castin's heart if they could?" + +She flattened herself on the ground under the platform, and gave him +all the space at her side that the contraction of her body left clear, +and he let the slab down carefully over their heads. They existed +almost without breath for many minutes. + +The wooden door-hinges creaked, and stumbling shins blundered against +the benches. + +"What is this place?" spoke an English voice. "Let some one take his +tinder-box and strike a light." + +"Have care," warned another. "We are only half a score in number. Our +errand was to kidnap Saint-Castin from his hold, not to get ourselves +ambushed by the Abenaquis." + +"We are too far from the sloop now," said a third. "We shall be cut +off before we get back, if we have not a care." + +"But he must be in here." + +"There are naught but benches and walls to hide him. This must be +an idolatrous chapel where the filthy savages congregate to worship +images." + +"Come out of the abomination, and let us make haste back to the boat. +He may be this moment marshaling all his Indians to surround us." + +"Wait. Let a light first be made." + +Saint-Castin and his companion heard the clicks of flint and steel; +then an instant's blaze of tinder made cracks visible over their +Heads. It died away, the hurried, wrangling men shuffling about. One +kicked the platform. + +"Here is a cover," he said; but darkness again enveloped them all. + +"Nothing is to be gained by searching farther," decided the majority. +"Did I not tell you this Saint-Castin will never be caught? The tide +will turn, and we shall get stranded among the rocks of that bay. It +is better to go back without Saint-Castin than to stay and be burnt by +his Abenaquis." + +"But here is a loose board in some flooring," insisted the discoverer +of the platform. "I will feel with the butt of my gun if there be +anything thereunder." + +The others had found the door, and were filing through it. + +"Why not with thy knife, man?" suggested one of them. + +"That is well thought of," he answered, and struck a half circle +under the boards. Whether in this flourish he slashed anything he only +learned by the stain on the knife, when the sloop was dropping down +the bay. But the Abenaqui girl knew what he had done, before the +footsteps ceased. She sat beside Saint-Castin on the platform, their +feet resting on the ground within the boards. No groan betrayed him, +but her arms went jealously around his body, and her searching fingers +found the cut in the buckskin. She drew her blanket about him with a +strength of compression that made it a ligature, and tied the corners +in a knot. + +"Is it deep, sagamore?" + +"Not deep enough," said Saint-Castin. "It will glue me to my buckskins +with a little blood, but it will not let me out of my troubles. I +wonder why I ran such a race from the English? They might have had me, +since they want me, and no one else does." + +"I will kiss you now, sagamore," whispered the Abenaqui girl, +trembling and weeping in the chaos of her broken reserve. "I cannot +any longer hold out against being your wife." + +She gave him her first kiss in the sacred darkness of the chapel, and +under the picture of the pierced heart. And it has since been recorded +of her that the Baroness de Saint-Castin was, during her entire +lifetime, the best worshiped wife in Acadia. + + + + +THE BEAUPORT LOUP-GAROU. + + +October dusk was bleak on the St. Lawrence, an east wind feeling along +the river's surface and rocking the vessels of Sir William Phips +on tawny rollers. It was the second night that his fleet sat there +inactive. During that day a small ship had approached Beauport +landing; but it stuck fast in the mud and became a mark for gathering +Canadians until the tide rose and floated it off. At this hour all +the habitants about Beauport except one, and even the Huron Indians +of Lorette, were safe inside the fort walls. Cattle were driven and +sheltered inland. Not a child's voice could be heard in the parish of +Beauport, and not a woman's face looked through windows fronting the +road leading up toward Montmorenci. Juchereau de Saint-Denis, the +seignior of Beauport, had taken his tenants with him as soon as the +New England invaders pushed into Quebec Basin. Only one man of the +muster hid himself and stayed behind, and he was too old for military +service. His seignior might lament him, but there was no woman to do +so. Gaspard had not stepped off his farm for years. The priest visited +him there, humoring a bent which seemed as inelastic as a vow. He had +not seen the ceremonial of high mass in the cathedral of Upper Town +since he was a young man. + +Gaspard's farm was fifteen feet wide and a mile long. It was one of +several strips lying between the St. Charles River and those heights +east of Beauport which rise to Montmorenci Falls. He had his front on +the greater stream, and his inland boundary among woods skirting the +mountain. He raised his food and the tobacco he smoked, and braided +his summer hats of straw and knitted his winter caps of wool. One suit +of well-fulled woolen clothes would have lasted a habitant a lifetime. +But Gaspard had been unlucky. He lost all his family by smallpox, and +the priest made him burn his clothes, and ruinously fit himself with +new. There was no use in putting savings in the stocking any longer, +however; the children were gone. He could only buy masses for them. +He lived alone, the neighbors taking that loving interest in him which +French Canadians bestow on one another. + +More than once Gaspard thought he would leave his farm and go into the +world. When Frontenac returned to take the paralyzed province in hand, +and fight Iroquois, and repair the mistakes of the last governor, +Gaspard put on his best moccasins and the red tasseled sash he wore +only at Christmas. "Gaspard is going to the fort," ran along the whole +row of Beauport houses. His neighbors waited for him. They all carried +their guns and powder for the purpose of firing salutes to Frontenac. +It was a grand day. But when Gaspard stepped out with the rest, his +countenance fell. He could not tell what ailed him. His friends coaxed +and pulled him; they gave him a little brandy. He sat down, and they +were obliged to leave him, or miss the cannonading and fireworks +themselves. From his own river front Gaspard saw the old lion's, ship +come to port, and, in unformed sentences, he reasoned then that a man +need not leave his place to take part in the world. + +Frontenac had not been back a month, and here was the New England +colony of Massachusetts swarming against New France. "They may carry +me away from my hearth feet first," thought Gaspard, "but I am not to +be scared away from it." + +Every night, before putting the bar across his door, the old habitant +went out to survey the two ends of the earth typified by the road +crossing his strip of farm. These were usually good moments for him. +He did not groan, as at dawn, that there were no children to relieve +him of labor. A noble landscape lifted on either hand from the hollow +of Beauport. The ascending road went on to the little chapel of Ste. +Anne de Beaupré, which for thirty years had been considered a shrine +in New France. The left hand road forded the St. Charles and climbed +the long slope to Quebec rock. + +Gaspard loved the sounds which made home so satisfying at autumn dusk. +Faint and far off he thought he could hear the lowing of his cow and +calf. To remember they were exiled gave him the pang of the unusual. +He was just chilled through, and therefore as ready for his own hearth +as a long journey could have made him, when a gray thing loped past in +the flinty dust, showing him sudden awful eyes and tongue of red fire. + +Gaspard clapped the house door to behind him and put up the bar. He +was not afraid of Phips and the fleet, of battle or night attack, but +the terror which walked in the darkness of sorcerers' times abjectly +bowed his old legs. + +"O good Ste. Anne, pray for us!" he whispered, using an invocation +familiar to his lips. "If loups-garous are abroad, also, what is to +become of this unhappy land?" + +There was a rattling knock on his door. It might be made by the +hilt of a sword; or did a loup-garou ever clatter paw against man's +dwelling? Gaspard climbed on his bed. + +"Father Gaspard! Father Gaspard! Are you within?" + +"Who is there?" + +"Le Moyne de Sainte-Hélène. Don't you know my voice?" + +"My master Sainte-Hélène, are you alone?" + +"Quite alone, except for my horse tied to your apple-tree. Let me in." + +The command was not to be slighted. Gaspard got down and admitted +his visitor. More than once had Sainte-Hélène come to this hearth. He +appreciated the large fire, and sat down on a chair with heavy legs +which were joined by bars resting on the floor. + +"My hands tingle. The dust on these, flint roads is cold." + +"But Monsieur Sainte-Hélène never walked with his hands in the dust," +protested Gaspard. The erect figure, bright with all the military +finery of that period, checked even his superstition by imposing +another kind of awe. + +"The New England men expect to make us bite it yet," responded +Sainte-Hélène. "Saint-Denis is anxious about you, old man. Why don't +you go to the fort?" + +"I will go to-morrow," promised Gaspard, relaxing sheepishly from +terror. "These New Englanders have not yet landed, and one's own bed +is very comfortable in the cool nights." + +"I am used to sleeping anywhere." + +"Yes, monsieur, for you are young." + +"It would make you young again, Gaspard, to see Count Frontenac. I +wish all New France had seen him yesterday when he defied Phips +and sent the envoy back to the fleet. The officer was sweating; our +mischievous fellows had blinded him at the water's edge, and dragged +him, to the damage of his shins, over all the barricades of Mountain +Street. He took breath and courage when they turned him loose before +the governor,--though the sight of Frontenac startled him,--and handed +over the letter of his commandant requiring the surrender of Quebec." + +"My faith, Monsieur Sainte-Hélène, did the governor blow him out of +the room?" + +"The man offered his open watch, demanding an answer within the hour. +The governor said, 'I do not need so much time. Go back at once to +your master and tell him I will answer this insolent message by the +mouths of my cannon.'" + +"By all the saints, that was a good word!" swore Gaspard, slapping his +knee with his wool cap. "Neither the Iroquois nor the Bostonnais will +run over us, now that the old governor is back. You heard him say it, +monsieur?" + +"I heard him, yes; for all his officers stood by. La Hontan was there, +too, and that pet of La Hontan's, Baron de Saint-Castin's half-breed +son, of Pentegoet." + +The martial note in the officer's voice sunk to contempt. Gaspard +was diverted from the governor to recognize, with the speechless +perception of an untrained mind, that jealousy which men established +in the world have of very young men. The male instinct of predominance +is fierce even in saints. Le Moyne de Sainte-Hélène, though of the +purest stock in New France, had no prejudice against a half-breed. + +"How is Mademoiselle Clementine?" inquired Gaspard, arriving at the +question in natural sequence. "You will see her oftener now than when +you had to ride from the fort." + +The veins looked black in his visitor's face. "Ask the little +Saint-Castin. Boys stand under windows and talk to women now. Men have +to be reconnoitering the enemy." + +"Monsieur Anselm de Saint-Castin is the son of a good fighter," +observed Gaspard. "It is said the New England men hate his very name." + +"Anselm de Saint-Castin is barely eighteen years old." + +"It is the age of Mademoiselle Clementine." + +The old habitant drew his three-legged stool to the hearth corner, and +took the liberty of sitting down as the talk was prolonged. He noticed +the leaden color which comes of extreme weariness and depression +dulling Sainte-Hélène's usually dark and rosy skin. Gaspard had heard +that this young man was quickest afoot, readiest with his weapon, +most untiring in the dance, and keenest for adventure of all the eight +brothers in his noble family. He had done the French arms credit +in the expedition to Hudson Bay and many another brush with their +enemies. The fire was burning high and clear, lighting rafters and +their curious brown tassels of smoked meat, and making the crucifix +over the bed shine out the whitest spot in a smoke-stained room. + +"Father Gaspard," inquired Sainte-Hélène suddenly, "did you ever hear +of such a thing as a loup-garou?" + +The old habitant felt terror returning with cold feet up his back and +crowding its blackness upon him through the windows. Yet as he rolled +his eyes at the questioner he felt piqued at such ignorance of his +natural claims. + +"Was I not born on the island of Orleans, monsieur?" + +Everybody knew that the island of Orleans had been from the time of +its discovery the abode of loups-garous, sorcerers, and all those +uncanny cattle that run in the twilights of the world. The western +point of its wooded ridge, which parts the St. Lawrence for twenty-two +miles, from Beauport to Beaupré, lay opposite Gaspard's door. + +"Oh, you were born on the island of Orleans?" + +"Yes, monsieur," answered Gaspard, with the pride we take in +distinction of any kind. + +"But you came to live in Beauport parish." + +"Does a goat turn to a pig, monsieur, because you carry it to the +north shore?" + +"Perhaps so: everything changes." + +Sainte-Hélène leaned forward, resting his arms on the arms of the +chair. He wrinkled his eyelids around central points of fire. + +"What is a loup-garou?" + +"Does monsieur not know? Monsieur Sainte-Hélène surely knows that a +loup-garou is a man-wolf." + +"A man-wolf," mused the soldier. "But when a person is so afflicted, +is he a man or is he a wolf?" + +"It is not an affliction, monsieur; it is sorcery." + +"I think you are right. Then the wretched man-wolf is past being +prayed for?" + +"If one should repent"-- + +"I don't repent anything," returned Sainte-Hélène; and Gaspard's jaw +relaxed, and he had the feeling of pin-feathers in his hair. "Is he a +man or is he a wolf?" repeated the questioner. + +"The loup-garou is a man, but he takes the form of a wolf." + +"Not all the time?" + +"No, monsieur, not all the time?" + +"Of course not." + +Gaspard experienced with us all this paradox: that the older we grow, +the more visible becomes the unseen. In childhood the external senses +are sharp; but maturity fuses flesh and spirit. He wished for a +priest, desiring to feel the arm of the Church around him. It was +late October,--a time which might be called the yearly Sabbath of +loups-garous. + +"And what must a loup-garou do with himself?" pursued Sainte-Hélène. +"I should take to the woods, and sit and lick my chaps, and bless my +hide that I was for the time no longer a man." + +"Saints! monsieur, he goes on a chase. He runs with his tongue lolled +out, and his eyes red as blood." + +"What color are my eyes, Gaspard?" + +The old Frenchman sputtered, "Monsieur, they are very black." + +Sainte-Hélène drew his hand across them. + +"It must be your firelight that is so red. I have been seeing as +through a glass of claret ever since I came in." + +Gaspard moved farther into the corner, the stool legs scraping the +floor. Though every hair on his body crawled with superstition, he +could not suspect Le Moyne de Sainte-Hélène. Yet the familiar face +altered strangely while he looked at it: the nose sunk with sudden +emaciation, and the jaws lengthened to a gaunt muzzle. There was a +crouching forward of the shoulders, as if the man were about to drop +on his hands and feet. Gaspard had once fallen down unconscious in +haying time; and this recalled to him the breaking up and shimmering +apart of a solid landscape. The deep cleft mouth parted, lifting first +at the corners and showing teeth, then widening to the utterance of a +low howl. + +Gaspard tumbled over the stool, and, seizing it by a leg, held it +between himself and Sainte-Hélène. + +"What is the matter, Gaspard?" exclaimed the officer, clattering his +scabbard against the chair as he rose, his lace and plumes and ribbons +stirring anew. Many a woman in the province had not as fine and +sensitive a face as the one confronting the old habitant. + +Gaspard stood back against the wall, holding the stool with its legs +bristling towards Sainte-Hélène. He shook from head to foot. + +"Have I done anything to frighten you? What is the matter with me, +Gaspard, that people should treat me as they do? It is unbearable! I +take the hardest work, the most dangerous posts; and they are against +me--against me." + +The soldier lifted his clenched fists, and turned his back on the old +man. The fire showed every curve of his magnificent stature. Wind, +diving into the chimney, strove against the sides for freedom, and +startled the silence with its hollow rumble. + +"I forded the St. Charles when the tide was rising, to take you back +with me to the fort. I see you dread the New Englanders less than you +do me. She told her father she feared you were ill. But every one is +well," said Sainte-Hélène, lowering his arms and making for the door. +And it sounded like an accusation against the world. + +He was scarcely outside in the wind, though still holding the door, +when Gaspard was ready to put up the bar. + +"Good-night, old man." + +"Good-night, monsieur, good-night, good-night!" called Gaspard, with +quavering dispatch. He pushed the door, but Sainte-Hélène looked +around its edge. Again the officer's face had changed, pinched by the +wind, and his eyes were full of mocking laughter. + +"I will say this for a loup-garou, Father Gaspard: a loup-garou may +have a harder time in this world than the other beasts, but he is no +coward; he can make a good death." + +Ashes spun out over the floor, and smoke rolled up around the joists, +as Sainte-Hélène shut himself into the darkness. Not satisfied with +barring the door, the old habitant pushed his chest against it. To +this he added the chair and stool, and barricaded it further with his +night's supply of firewood. + +"Would I go over the ford of the St. Charles with him?" Gaspard +hoarsely whispered as he crossed himself. "If the New England men were +burning my house, I would not go. And how can a loup-garou get over +that water? The St. Charles is blessed; I am certain it is blessed. +Yet he talked about fording it like any Christian." + +The old habitant was not clear in his mind what should be done, except +that it was no business of his to meddle with one of Frontenac's great +officers and a noble of New France. But as a measure of safety for +himself he took down his bottle of holy water, hanging on the wall for +emergencies, and sprinkled every part of his dwelling. + +Next morning, however, when the misty autumn light was on the hills, +promising a clear day and penetrating sunshine, as soon as he awoke he +felt ashamed of the barricade, and climbed out of bed to remove it. + +"The time has at last come when I am obliged to go to the fort," +thought Gaspard, groaning. "Governor Frontenac will not permit any +sorcery in his presence. The New England men might do me no harm, but +I cannot again face a loup-garou." + +He dressed himself accordingly, and, taking his gathered coin from its +hiding-place, wrapped every piece separately in a bit of rag, slid it +into his deep pocket, and sewed the pocket up. Then he cut off enough +bacon to toast on the raked-out coals for his breakfast, and hid +the rest under the floor. There was no fastening on the outside of +Gaspard's house. He was obliged to latch the door, and leave it at the +mercy of the enemy. + +Nothing was stirring in the frosted world. He could not yet see +the citadel clearly, or the heights of Levis; but the ascent to +Montmorenci bristled with naked trees, and in the stillness he could +hear the roar of the falls. Gaspard ambled along his belt of ground +to take a last look. It was like a patchwork quilt: a square of wheat +stubble showed here, and a few yards of brown prostrate peavines +showed there; his hayfield was less than a stone's throw long; and +his garden beds, in triangles and sections of all shapes, filled the +interstices of more ambitious crops. + +He had nearly reached the limit of the farm, and entered his neck of +woods, when the breathing of a cow trying to nip some comfort from the +frosty sod delighted his ear. The pretty milker was there, with her +calf at her side. Gaspard stroked and patted them. Though the New +Englanders should seize them for beef, he could not regret they were +wending home again. That invisible cord binding him to his own place, +which had wrenched his vitals as it stretched, now drew him back like +fate. He worked several hours to make his truants a concealing corral +of hay and stakes and straw and stumps at a place where a hill spring +threaded across his land, and then returned between his own boundaries +to the house again. + +The homesick zest of one who has traveled made his lips and unshaven +chin protrude, as he smelled the good interior. There was the wooden +crane. There was his wife's old wheel. There was the sacred row of +children's snow-shoes, which the priest had spared from burning. One +really had to leave home to find out what home was. + +But a great hubbub was beginning in Phips's fleet. Fifes were +screaming, drums were beating, and shouts were lifted and answered by +hearty voices. After their long deliberation, the New Englanders had +agreed upon some plan of attack. Gaspard went down to his landing, and +watched boatload follow boatload, until the river was swarming with +little craft pulling directly for Beauport. He looked uneasily toward +Quebec. The old lion in the citadel hardly waited for Phips to shift +position, but sent the first shot booming out to meet him. The New +England cannon answered, and soon Quebec height and Levis palisades +rumbled prodigious thunder, and the whole day was black with smoke and +streaked with fire. + +Gaspard took his gun, and trotted along his farm to the cover of the +trees. He had learned to fight in the Indian fashion; and Le Moyne +de Sainte-Hélène fought the same way. Before the boatloads of New +Englanders had all waded through tidal mud, and ranged themselves +by companies on the bank, Sainte-Hélène, who had been dispatched by +Frontenac at the first drumbeat on the river, appeared, ready to +check them, from the woods of Beauport. He had, besides three hundred +sharpshooters, the Lorette Hurons and the muster of Beauport militia, +all men with homes to save. + +The New Englanders charged them, a solid force, driving the +light-footed bush fighters. But it was like driving the wind, which +turns, and at some unexpected quarter is always ready for you again. + +This long-range fighting went on until nightfall, when the English +commander, finding that his tormentors had disappeared as suddenly as +they had appeared in the morning, tried to draw his men together at +the St. Charles ford, where he expected some small vessels would +be sent to help him across. He made a night camp here, without any +provisions. + +Gaspard's house was dark, like the deserted Beauport homes all that +night; yet one watching might have seen smoke issuing from his chimney +toward the stars. The weary New England men did not forage through +these places, nor seek shelter in them. It was impossible to know +where Indians and Frenchmen did not lie in ambush. On the other side +of the blankets which muffled Gaspard's windows, however, firelight +shone with its usual ruddiness, showing the seignior of Beauport +prostrate on his old tenant's bed. Juchereau de Saint-Denis was +wounded, and La Hontan, who was with the skirmishers, and Gaspard had +brought him in the dark down to the farmhouse as the nearest hospital. +Baron La Hontan was skillful in surgery; most men had need to be in +those days. He took the keys, and groped into the seigniory house for +the linen chest, and provided lint and bandages, and brought cordials +from the cellar; making his patient as comfortable as a wounded man +who was a veteran in years could be made in the first fever and thirst +of suffering. La Hontan knew the woods, and crept away before dawn to +a hidden bivouac of Hurons and militia; wiry and venturesome in his +age as he had been in his youth. But Saint-Denis lay helpless and +partially delirious in Gaspard's house all Thursday, while the +bombardment of Quebec made the earth tremble, and the New England +ships were being splintered by Frontenac's cannon; while Sainte-Hélène +and his brother themselves manned the two batteries of Lower Town, +aiming twenty-four-pound balls directly against the fleet; while they +cut the cross of St. George from the flagstaff of the admiral, and +Frenchmen above them in the citadel rent the sky with joy; while the +fleet, ship by ship, with shattered masts and leaking hulls, drew off +from the fight, some of them leaving cable and anchor, and drifting +almost in pieces; while the land force, discouraged, sick, and hungry, +waited for the promised help which never came. + +Thursday night was so cold that the St. Charles was skimmed with ice, +and hoarfrost lay white on the fields. But Saint-Denis was in the fire +of fever, and Gaspard, slipping like a thief, continually brought him +fresh water from the spring. + +He lay there on Friday, while the land force, refreshed by half +rations sent from the almost wrecked fleet, made a last stand, +fighting hotly as they were repulsed from New France. It was twilight +on Friday when Sainte-Hélène was carried into Gaspard's house and +laid on the floor. Gaspard felt emboldened to take the blankets from +a window and roll them up to place under the soldier's head. Many +Beauport people were even then returning to their homes. The land +force did not reëmbark until the next night, and the invaders did not +entirely withdraw for four days; but Quebec was already yielding up +its refugees. A disabled foe--though a brave and stubborn one--who had +his ships to repair, if he would not sink in them, was no longer to be +greatly dreaded. + +At first the dusk room was packed with Hurons and Montreal men. This +young seignior Sainte-Hélène was one of the best leaders of his time. +They were indignant that the enemy's last scattering shots had picked +him off. The surgeon and La Hontan put all his followers out of the +door,--he was scarcely conscious that they stood by him,--and left, +beside his brother Longueuil, only one young man who had helped carry +him in. + +Saint-Denis, on the bed, saw him with the swimming eyes of fever. +The seignior of Beauport had hoped to have Sainte-Hélène for his +son-in-law. His little Clementine, the child of his old age,--it was +after all a fortunate thing that she was shut for safety in Quebec, +while her father depended for care on Gaspard. Saint-Denis tried to +see Sainte-Hélène's face; but the surgeon's helpers constantly balked +him, stooping and rising and reaching for things. And presently a face +he was not expecting to see grew on the air before him. + +Clementine's foot had always made a light click, like a sheep's on a +naked floor. But Saint-Denis did not hear her enter. She touched her +cheek to her father's. It was smooth and cold from the October air. +Clementine's hair hung in large pale ringlets; for she was an ashen +maid, gray-toned and subdued; the roughest wind never ruffled her +smoothness. She made her father know that she had come with Beauport +women and men from Quebec, as soon as any were allowed to leave the +fort, to escort her. She leaned against the bed, soft as a fleece, +yielding her head to her father's painful fondling. There was no +heroism in Clementine; but her snug domestic ways made him happy in +his house. + +"Sainte-Hélène is wounded," observed Saint-Denis. + +She cast a glance of fright over her shoulder. + +"Did you not see him when you came in?" + +"I saw some one; but it is to you that I have been wishing to come +since Wednesday night." + +"I shall get well; they tell me it is not so bad with me. But how is +it with Sainte-Hélène?" + +"I do not know, father." + +"Where is young Saint-Castin? Ask him." + +"He is helping the surgeon, father." + +"Poor child, how she trembles! I would thou hadst stayed in the fort, +for these sights are unfit for women. New France can as ill spare him +as we can, Clementine. Was that his groan?" + +She cowered closer to the bed, and answered, "I do not know." + +Saint-Denis tried to sit up in bed, but was obliged to resign himself, +with a gasp, to the straw pillows. + +Night pressed against the unblinded window. A stir, not made by the +wind, was heard at the door, and Frontenac, and Frontenac's Récollet +confessor, and Sainte-Hélène's two brothers from the citadel, came +into the room. The governor of New France was imposing in presence. +Perhaps there was no other officer in the province to whom he would +have galloped in such haste from Quebec. It was a tidal moment in his +affairs, and Frontenac knew the value of such moments better than +most men. But Sainte-Hélène did not know the governor was there. The +Récollet father fell on his knees and at once began his office. + +Longueuil sat down on Gaspard's stool and covered his face against +the wall. He had been hurt by a spent bullet, and one arm needed +bandaging, but he said nothing about it, though the surgeon was now at +liberty, standing and looking at a patient for whom nothing could be +done. The sterner brothers watched, also, silent, as Normans taught +themselves to be in trouble. The sons of Charles Le Moyne carried his +name and the lilies of France from the Gulf of St. Lawrence to the +Gulf of Mexico. + +Anselm de Saint-Castin had fought two days alongside the man who lay +dying. The boy had an ardent face, like his father's. He was sorry, +with the skin-deep commiseration of youth for those who fall, whose +falling thins the crowded ranks of competition. But he was not for a +moment unconscious of the girl hiding her head against her father from +the sight of death. The hope of one man forever springing beside the +grave of another must work sadness in God. Yet Sainte-Hélène did not +know any young supplanter was there. He did not miss or care for +the fickle vanity of applause; he did not torment himself with the +spectres of the mind, or feel himself shrinking with the littleness of +jealousy; he did not hunger for a love that was not in the world, or +waste a Titan's passion on a human ewe any more. For him, the aching +and bewilderment, exaltations and self-distrusts, animal gladness and +subjection to the elements, were done. + +Clementine's father beckoned to the boy, and put her in his care. + +"Take her home to the women," Saint-Denis whispered. "She is not used +to war and such sight as these. And bid some of the older ones stay +with her." + +Anselm and Clementine went out, their hands just touching as he led +her in wide avoidance of the figure on the floor. Sainte-Hélène +did not know the boy and girl left him, for starlight, for silence +together, treading the silvered earth in one cadenced step, as +he awaited that moment when the solitary spirit finds its utmost +loneliness. + +Gaspard also went out. When the governor sat in his armchair, and his +seignior lay on the bed, and Le Moyne de Sainte-Hélène was stretched +that way on the floor, it could hardly be decent for an old habitant +to stand by, even cap in hand. Yet he could scarcely take his eyes +from the familiar face as it changed in phosphorescent light. +The features lifted themselves with firm nobility, expressing an +archangel's beauty. Sainte-Hélène's lips parted, and above the patter +of the reciting Récollet the watchers were startled by one note like +the sigh of a wind-harp. + +The Montreal militia, the Lorette Hurons, and Beauport men were still +thronging about, overflowing laterally upon the other farms. They +demanded word of the young seignior, hushing their voices. Some of +them had gone into Gaspard's milk cave and handed out stale milk for +their own and their neighbors' refreshment. A group were sitting on +the crisp ground, with a lantern in their midst, playing some game; +their heads and shoulders moving with an alacrity objectless to +observers, so closely was the light hemmed in. + +Gaspard reached his gateway with the certainty of custom. He looked +off at both ends of the world. The starlit stretch of road was almost +as deserted as when Quebec shut in the inhabitants of Beauport. From +the direction of Montmorenci he saw a gray thing come loping down, +showing eyes and tongue of red fire. He screamed an old man's scream, +pointing to it, and the cry of "Loup-garou!" brought all Beauport men +to their feet. The flints clicked. It was a time of alarms. Two shots +were fired together, and an under officer sprung across the fence of a +neighboring farm to take command of the threatened action. + +The camp of sturdy New Englanders on the St. Charles was hid by a +swell in the land. At the outcry, those Frenchmen around the lantern +parted company, some recoiling backwards, and others scrambling +to seize their guns. But one caught up the lantern, and ran to the +struggling beast in the road. + +Gaspard pushed into the gathering crowd, and craned himself to see the +thing, also. He saw a gaunt dog, searching yet from face to face for +some lost idol, and beating the flinty world with a last thump of +propitiation. + +Frontenac opened the door and stood upon the doorstep. His head almost +reached the overhanging straw thatch. + +"What is the alarm, my men?" + +"Your excellency," the subaltern answered, "it was nothing but a dog. +It came down from Montmorenci, and some of the men shot it." + +"Le Moyne de Sainte-Hélène," declared Frontenac, lowering his plumed +hat, "has just died for New France." + + * * * * * + +Gaspard stayed out on his river front until he felt half frozen. The +old habitant had not been so disturbed and uncomfortable since his +family died of smallpox. Phips's vessels lay near the point of Orleans +Island, a few portholes lighting their mass of gloom, while two red +lanterns aloft burned like baleful eyes at the lost coast of Canada. +Nothing else showed on the river. The distant wall of Levis palisades +could be discerned, and Quebec stood a mighty crown, its gems all +sparkling. Behind Gaspard, Beauport was alive. The siege was virtually +over, and he had not set foot off his farm during Phips's invasion of +New France. He did not mind sleeping on the floor, with his heels to +the fire. But there were displacements and changes and sorrows which +he did mind. + +"However," muttered the old man, and it was some comfort to the vague +aching in his breast to formulate one fact as solid as the heights +around, "it is certain that there are loups-garous." + + + + +THE MILL AT PETIT CAP + + +August night air, sweet with a half salt breath from the St. Lawrence, +met the miller of San Joachim as he looked out; but he bolted the +single thick door of the mill, and cast across it into a staple a +hook as long as his body and as thick as his arm. At any alarm in the +village he must undo these fastenings, and receive the refugees from +Montgomery; yet he could not sleep without locking the door. So all +that summer he had slept on a bench in the mill basement, to be ready +for the call. + +All the parishes on the island of Orleans, and on each side of the +river, quite to Montmorenci Falls, where Wolfe's army was encamped, +had been sacked by that evil man, Captain Alexander Montgomery, whom +the English general himself could hardly restrain. San Joachim du +Petit Cap need not hope to escape. It was really Wolfe's policy to +harry the country which in that despairing summer of 1759 he saw no +chance of conquering. + +The mill was grinding with a shuddering noise which covered all +country night sounds. But so accustomed was the miller to this lullaby +that he fell asleep on his chaff cushion directly, without his usual +review of the trouble betwixt La Vigne and himself. He was sensitive +to his neighbors' claims, and the state of the country troubled him, +but he knew he could endure La Vigne's misfortunes better than any +other man's. + +Loopholes in the hoary stone walls of the basement were carefully +covered, but a burning dip on the hearth betrayed them within. There +was a deep blackened oven built at right angles to the fireplace in +the south wall. The stairway rose like a giant's ladder to the vast +dimness overhead. No other such fortress-mill was to be found between +Cap Tourmente and the citadel, or indeed anywhere on the St. Lawrence. +It had been built not many years before by the Seminaire priests of +Quebec for the protection and nourishment of their seigniory, that +huge grant of rich land stretching from Beaupré to Cap Tourmente, +bequeathed to the church by the first bishop of Canada. + +The miller suddenly dashed up with a shout. He heard his wife scream +above the rattle of the mill, and stumbling over basement litter he +unstopped a loophole and saw the village already mounting in flames. + +The mill door's iron-clamped timbers were beaten by a crowd of +entreating hands, and he tore back the fastenings and dragged his +neighbors in. Children, women, men, fell past him on the basement +floor, and he screamed for help to hold the door against Montgomery's +men. The priest was the last one to enter and the first to set a +shoulder with the miller's. A discharge of firearms from without +made lightning in the dim inclosure, and the curé, Father Robineau de +Portneuf, reminded his flock of the guns they had stored in the mill +basement. Loopholes were soon manned, and the enemy were driven back +from the mill door. The roaring torch of each cottage thatch showed +them in the redness of their uniforms,--good marks for enraged +refugees; so they drew a little farther westward still, along the hot +narrow street of San Joachim du Petit Cap. + +At an unoccupied loophole Father Robineau watched his chapel burning, +with its meagre enrichments, added year by year. But this was nothing, +when his eye dropped to the two or three figures lying face downward +on the road. He turned himself toward the wailing of a widow and a +mother. + +The miller's wife was coming downstairs with a candle, leaving her +children huddled in darkness at the top. Those two dozen or more +people whom she could see lifting dazed looks at her were perhaps +of small account in the province; but they were her friends and +neighbors, and bounded her whole experience of the world, except that +anxiety of having her son Laurent with Montcalm's militia. The dip +light dropped tallow down her petticoat, and even unheeded on one bare +foot. + +"My children," exhorted Father Robineau through the wailing of +bereaved women, "have patience." The miller's wife stooped and passed +a hand across a bright head leaning against the stair side. + +"Thy mother is safe, Angèle?" + +"Oh, yes, Madame Sandeau." + +"Thy father and the children are safe?" + +"Oh, yes," testified the miller, passing towards the fireplace, "La +Vigne and all his are within. I counted them." + +"The saints be praised," said his wife. + +"Yes, La Vigne got in safely," added the miller, "while that excellent +Jules Martin, our good neighbor, lies scalped out there in the +road."[1] + +"He does not know what he is saying, Angèle," whispered his wife to +the weeping girl. But the miller snatched the candle from the hearth +as if he meant to fling his indignation with it at La Vigne. His +worthy act, however, was to light the sticks he kept built in the +fireplace for such emergency. A flame arose, gradually revealing +the black earthen floor, the swarm of refugees, and even the +tear-suspending lashes of little children's eyes. + +La Vigne appeared, sitting with his hands in his hair. And the +miller's wife saw there was a strange young demoiselle among the women +of the côte, trying to quiet them. She had a calm dark beauty and an +elegance of manner unusual to the provinces, and even Father Robineau +beheld her with surprise. + +"Mademoiselle, it is unfortunate that you should be in Petit Cap at +this time," said the priest. + +"Father, I count myself fortunate," she answered, "if no worse +calamity has befallen me. My father is safe within here. Can you tell +me anything about my husband, Captain De Mattissart, of the Languedoc +regiment, with General Montcalm?" + +"Madame, I never saw your husband." + +"He was to meet me with escort at Petit Cap. We landed on a little +point, secretly, with no people at all, and my father would have +returned in his sailboat, but my husband did not meet us. These +English must have cut him off, father." + +"These are not times in which a woman should stir abroad," said the +priest. + +"Monsieur the curé, there is no such comfortable doctrine for a man +with a daughter," said a figure at the nearest loophole, turning and +revealing himself by face and presence a gentilhomme. "Especially a +daughter married to a soldier. I am Denys of Bonaventure, galloping +hither out of Acadia at her word of command." + +The priest made him a gesture of respect and welcome. + +"One of the best men in Acadia should be of advantage to us here. But +I regret madame's exposure. You were not by yourselves attempting to +reach Montcalm's camp?" + +"How do I know, monsieur the curé? My daughter commanded this +expedition." Denys of Bonaventure shrugged his shoulders and spread +his palms with a smile. + +"We were going to knock at the door of the curé of Petit Cap," said +the lady. "There was nothing else for us to do; but the English +appeared." + +Successive shots at the loopholes proved that the English had not yet +disappeared. Denys seized his gun again, and turned to the defense, +urging that the children and women be sent out of the way of balls. + +Father Robineau, on his part, gave instant command to the miller's +wife, and she climbed the stairs again, heading a long line of +distressed neighbors. + +The burrs were in the second story, and here the roaring of the mill +took possession of all the shuddering air. Every massive joist half +growing from dimness overhead was hung with ghostly shreds of cobweb; +and on the grayish whiteness of the floor the children's naked soles +cut out oblongs dotted with toe-marks. + +Mother Sandeau made her way first to an inclosed corner, and looked +around to invite the attention of her followers. Such violence had +been done to her stolid habits that she seemed to need the sight of +her milk-room to restore her to intelligent action. The group was +left in half darkness while she thrust her candle into the milk-room, +showing its orderly array of flowered bowls amidst moist coolness. +Here was a promise of sustenance to people dependent for the next +mouthful of food. "It will last a few days, even if the cows be driven +off and killed!" said the miller's good wife. + +But there was the Acadian lady to be first thought of. Neighbors could +be easily spread out on the great floor, with rolls of bedding. Her +own oasis of homestead stood open, showing a small fireplace hollowed +in one wall, two feet above the floor; table and heavy chairs; and +sleeping rooms beyond. Yet none of these things were good enough to +offer such a stranger. + +"Take no thought about me, good friend," said the girl, noticing +Mother Sandeau's anxiously creased face. "I shall presently go back to +my father." + +"But, no," exclaimed the miller's wife, "the priest forbids women +below, and there is my son's bridal room upstairs with even a +dressing-table in it. I only held back on account of Angèle La Vigne," +she added to comprehending neighbors, "but Angèle will attend to the +lady there." + +"Angèle will gladly attend to the lady anywhere," spoke out Angèle's +mother, with a resentment of her child's position which ruin could not +crush. "It is the same as if marriage was never talked of between your +son Laurent and her." + +"Yes, neighbor, yes," said the miller's wife appeasingly. It was not +her fault that a pig had stopped the marriage. She gave her own +candle to Angèle, with a motherly look. The girl had a pink and golden +prettiness unusual among habitantes. Though all flush was gone out of +her skin under the stress of the hour, she retained the innocent clear +pallor of an infant. Angèle hurried to straighten her disordered dress +before taking the candle, and then led Madame De Mattissart up the +next flight of stairs. + +The mill's noise had forced talkers to lift their voices, and it now +half dulled the clamp of habitante shoes below, and the whining of +children longing again for sleep. Huge square wooden hoppers were +shaking down grain, and the two or three square sashes in the +thickness of front wall let in some light from the burning côte. + +The building's mighty stone hollows were as cool as the dew-pearled +and river-vapored landscape outside. Occasional shots from below kept +reverberating upward through two more floors overhead. + +Laurent's bridal apartment was of new boards built like a deck cabin +at one side of the third story. It was hard for Angèle to throw open +the door of this sacred little place which she had expected to +enter as a bride, and the French officer's young wife understood it, +restraining the girl's hand. + +"Stop, my child. Let us not go in. I came up here simply to quiet the +others." + +"But you were to rest in this chamber, madame." + +"Do you think I can rest when I do not know whether I am wife or +widow?" + +The young girls looked at each other with piteous eyes. + +"This is a terrible time, madame." + +"It will, however, pass by, in some fashion." + +"But what shall I do for you, madame? Where will you sit? Is there +nothing you require?" + +"Yes, I am thirsty. Is there not running water somewhere in this +mill?" + +"There is the flume-chamber overhead," said Angèle. "I will set the +light here, and go down for a cup, madame." + +"Do not. We will go to the flume-chamber together. My hands, my +throat, my eyes burn. Go on, Angèle, show me the way." + +Laurent's room, therefore, was left in darkness, holding unseen its +best furniture, the family's holiday clothes of huge grained flannel, +and the little yellow spinning-wheel, with its pile of unspun wool +like forgotten snow. + +In the fourth story, as below, deep-set swinging windows had small +square panes, well dusted with flour. Nothing broke the monotony of +wall except a row of family snow-shoes. The flume-chamber, inclosed +from floor to ceiling, suggested a grain's sprouting here and there in +its upright humid boards. + +As the two girls glanced around this grim space, they were startled by +silence through the building, for the burrs ceased to work. Feet and +voices indeed stirred below, but the sashes no longer rattled. Then a +tramping seemed following them up, and Angèle dragged the young lady +behind a stone pillar, and blew out their candle. + +"What are you doing?" demanded Madame De Mattissart in displeasure. +"If the door has been forced, should we desert our fathers?" + +"It is not that," whispered Angèle. And before she could give any +reason for her impulse, the miller's head and light appeared above the +stairs. It was natural enough for Angèle La Vigne to avoid Laurent's +father. What puzzled her was to see her own barefooted father creeping +after the miller, his red wool night-cap pulled over dejected brows. + +These good men had been unable to meet without quarreling since the +match between Laurent and Angèle was broken off, on account of a +pig which Father La Vigne would not add to her dower. Angèle had a +blanket, three dishes, six tin plates, and a kneading-trough; at +the pig her father drew the line, and for a pig Laurent's father +contended. But now all the La Vigne pigs were roasted or scattered, +Angèle's dower was destroyed, and what had a ruined habitant to say to +the miller of Petit Cap? + +Father Robineau had stopped the mill because its noise might cover +attacks. As the milder ungeared his primitive machinery, he had +thought of saving water in the flume-chamber. There were wires and +chains for shutting off its escape. + +He now opened a door in the humid wall and put his candle over the +clear, dark water. The flume no longer furnished a supply, and he +stared open-lipped, wondering if the enemy had meddled with his +water-gate in the upland. + +The flume, at that time the most ambitious wooden channel on the north +shore, supported on high stilts of timber, dripped all the way from +a hill stream to the fourth story of Petit Cap mill. The miller had +watched it escape burning thatches, yet something had happened at the +dam. Shreds of moss, half floating and half moored, reminded him to +close the reservoir, and he had just moved the chains when La Vigne +startled him by speaking at his ear. + +The miller recoiled, but almost in the action his face recovered +itself. He wore a gray wool night-cap, and its tassel hung down over +one lifted eyebrow. + +"Pierre Sandeau, my friend," opened La Vigne with a whimper, "I +followed you up here to weep with you." + +"You did well," replied the miller bluntly, "for I am a ruined man +with the parish to feed, unless the Seminaire fathers take pity on +me." + +"Yes, you have lost more than all of us," said La Vigne. + +"I am not the man to measure losses and exult over my neighbors," +declared the miller; "but how many pigs would you give to your girl's +dower now, Guillaume?" + +"None at all, my poor Pierre. At least she is not a widow." + +"Nor ever likely to be now, since she has no dower to make her a +wife." + +"How could she be a wife without a husband? Taunt me no more about +that pig. I tell you it is worse with you: you have no son." + +"What do you mean? I have half a dozen." + +"But Laurent is shot." + +"Laurent--shot?" whispered the miller, relaxing his flabby face, and +letting the candle sink downward until it spread their shadows on the +floor. + +"Yes, my friend," whimpered La Vigne. "I saw him through my window +when the alarm was given. He was doubtless coming to save us all, for +an officer was with him. Jules Martin's thatch was just fired. It was +bright as sunrise against the hill, and the English saw our Laurent +and his officer, no doubt, for they shot them down, and I saw it +through my back window." + +The miller sunk to his knees, and set the candle on the floor; La +Vigne approached and mingled night-cap tassels and groans with him. + +"Oh, my son! And I quarreled with thee, Guillaume, about a pig, and +made the children unhappy." + +"But I was to blame for that, Pierre," wept La Vigne, "and now we have +neither pig nor son!" + +"Perhaps Montgomery's men have scalped him;" the miller pulled the +night-cap from his own head and threw it on the floor in helpless +wretchedness. + +La Vigne uttered a low bellow in response, and they fell upon each +other's necks and were about to lament together in true Latin fashion, +when the wife of Montcalm's officer called to them. + +She stood out from the shadow of the stone column, dead to all +appearances, yet animate, and trying to hold up Angèle whose whole +body lapsed downward in half unconsciousness. "Bring water," demanded +Madame De Mattissart. + +And seeing who had overheard the dreadful news, La Vigne ran to the +flume-chamber, and the miller scrambled up and reached over him to dip +the first handful. Both stooped within the door, both recoiled, and +both raised a yell which echoed among high rafters in the attic above. +The miller thought Montgomery's entire troop were stealing into the +mill through the flume; for a man's legs protruded from the opening +and wriggled with such vigor that his body instantly followed and he +dropped into the water. + +His beholders seized and dragged him out upon the floor; but he +threw off their hands, sprang astride of the door-sill, and stretched +himself to the flume mouth to help another man out of it. + +La Vigne ran downstairs shrieking for the priest, as if he had seen +witchcraft. But the miller stood still, with the candle flaring on the +floor behind him, not sure of his son Laurent in militia uniform, but +trembling with some hope. + +It was Madame De Mattissart's cry to her husband which confirmed the +miller's senses. She knew the young officer through the drenching +and raggedness of his white and gold uniform; she understood how two +wounded men could creep through any length of flume, from which a +miller's son would know how to turn off the water. She had no need to +ask what their sensations were, sliding down that slimy duct, or how +they entered it without being seen by the enemy. Let villagers talk +over such matters, and shout and exclaim when they came to hear this +strange thing. It was enough that her husband had met her through +every danger, and that he was able to stand and receive her in his +arms. + +Laurent's wound was serious. After all his exertions he fainted; but +Angèle took his head upon her knee, and the fathers and mothers and +neighbors swarmed around him, and Father Robineau did him doctor's +service. Every priest then on the St. Lawrence knew how to dress +wounds as well as bind up spirits. + +Denys of Bonaventure, notwithstanding the excitement overhead, kept +men at the basement loopholes until Montgomery had long withdrawn and +returned to camp. + +He then felt that he could indulge himself with a sight of his +son-in-law, and tiptoed up past the colony of women and children whom +the priest had just driven again to their rest on the second floor; +past that sacred chamber on the third floor, and on up to the flume +loft. There Monsieur De Bonaventure paused, with his head just above +the boards, like a pleasant-faced sphinx. + +"Accept my salutations, Captain De Mattissart," he said laughing. +"I am told that you and this young militia-man floated down the +mill-stream into this mill, with the French flag waving over your +heads, to the no small discouragement of the English. Quebec will +never be taken, monsieur." + +Long ago those who found shelter in the mill dispersed to rebuild +their homes under a new order of things, or wedded like Laurent and +Angèle, and lived their lives and died. Yet, witnessing to all these +things, the old mill stands to-day at Petit Cap, huge and cavernous; +with its oasis of home, its milk-room, its square hoppers and +flume-chamber unchanged. Daylight refuses to follow you into the +blackened basement; and the shouts of Montgomery's sacking horde seem +to linger in the mighty hollows overhead. + + +[Footnote 1: Wolfe forbade such barbarities, but Montgomery did not +always obey. It was practiced on both sides.] + + + + +WOLFE'S COVE. + + +The cannon was for the time silent, the gunners being elsewhere, but a +boy's voice called from the bastion:-- + +"Come out here, mademoiselle. I have an apple for you." + +"Where did you get an apple?" replied a girl's voice. + +"Monsieur Bigot gave it to me. He has everything the king's stores +will buy. His slave was carrying a basketful." + +"I do not like Monsieur Bigot. His face is blotched, and he kisses +little girls." + +"His apples are better than his manners," observed the boy, waiting, +knife in hand, for her to come and see that the division was a fair +one. + +She tiptoed out from the gallery of the commandant's house, the wind +blowing her curls back from her shoulders. A bastion of Fort St. Louis +was like a balcony in the clouds. The child's lithe, long body made a +graceful line in every posture, and her face was vivid with light and +expression. + +"Perhaps your sick mother would like this apple, Monsieur Jacques. We +do not have any in the fort." + +The boy flushed. He held the halves ready on his palm. + +"I thought of her; but the surgeon might forbid it, and she is not +fond of apples when she is well. And you are always fond of apples, +Mademoiselle Anglaise." + +"My name is Clara Baker. If you call me Mademoiselle Anglaise, I will +box your ears." + +"But you are English," persisted the boy. "You cannot help it. I am +sorry for it myself; and when I am grown I will whip anybody that +reproaches you for it." + +They began to eat the halves of the apple, forgetful of Jacques's sick +mother, and to quarrel as their two nations have done since France and +England stood on the waters. + +"Don't distress yourself, Monsieur Jacques Repentigny. The English +will be the fashion in Quebec when you are grown." + +It was amusing to hear her talk his language glibly while she +prophesied. + +"Do you think your ugly General Wolfe can ever make himself the +fashion?" retorted Jacques. "I saw him once across the Montmorenci +when I was in my father's camp. His face runs to a point in the +middle, and his legs are like stilts." + +"His stilts will lift him into Quebec yet." + +The boy shook his black queue. He had a cheek in which the flush came +and went, and black sparkling eyes. + +"The English never can take this province. What can you know about it? +You were only a little baby when Madame Ramesay bought you from the +Iroquois Indians who had stolen you. If your name had not been on your +arm, you would not even know that. But a Le Moyne of Montreal knows +all about the province. My grandfather, Le Moyne de Longueuil, was +wounded down there at Beauport, when the English came to take Canada +before. And his brother Jacques that I am named for--Le Moyne de +Sainte-Hélène--was killed. I have often seen the place where he died +when I went with my father to our camp." + +The little girl pushed back her sleeve, as she did many times a day, +and looked at the name tattooed in pale blue upon her arm. Jacques +envied her that mark, and she was proud of it. Her traditions were +all French, but the indelible stamp, perhaps of an English seaman, +reminded her what blood was in her veins. + +The children stepped nearer the parapet, where they could see all +Quebec Basin, and the French camp stretching its city of tents across +the valley of the St. Charles. Beneath them was Lower Town, a huddle +of blackened shells and tottering walls. + +"See there what the English have done," said Clara, pointing down the +sheer rock. "It will be a long time before you and I go down Breakneck +Stairs again to see the pretty images in the church of Our Lady of +Victories." + +"They did that two months ago," replied Jacques. "It was all they +could do. And now they are sick of bombarding, and are going home. +All their soldiers at Montmorenci and on the point of Orleans are +embarking. Their vessels keep running around like hens in a shower, +hardly knowing what to do." + +"Look at them getting in a line yonder," insisted his born enemy. + +"General Montcalm is in front of them at Beauport," responded Jacques. + +The ground was moist underfoot, and the rock on which they leaned felt +damp. Quebec grayness infused with light softened the autumn world. No +one could behold without a leap of the heart that vast reach of river +and islands, and palisade and valley, and far-away melting mountain +lines. Inside Quebec walls the children could see the Ursuline convent +near the top of the slope, showing holes in its roof. Nearly every +building in the city had suffered. + +Drums began to beat on the British ships ranged in front of Beauport, +and a cannon flashed. Its roar was shaken from height to height. Then +whole broadsides of fire broke forth, and the earth rumbled with the +sound, and scarlet uniforms filled the boats like floating poppies. + +"The English may be going home," exulted Clara, "but you now see for +yourself, Monsieur Jacques Repentigny, what they intend to do before +they go." + +"I wish my father had not been sent with his men back to Montreal!" +exclaimed Jacques in excitement. "But I shall go down to the camps, +anyhow." + +"Your mother will cry," threatened the girl. + +"My mother is used to war. She often lets me sleep in my father's +tent. Tell her I have gone to the camps." + +"They will put you in the guard-house." + +"They do not put a Repentigny in the guard-house." + +"If you will stay here," called the girl, running after him towards +the fortress gate, "I will play anything you wish. The cannon balls +might hit you." + +Deaf to the threat of danger, he made off through cross-cuts toward +the Palace Gate, the one nearest the bridge of boats on the St. +Charles River. + +"Very good, monsieur. I'll tell your mother," she said, trembling and +putting up a lip. + +But nothing except noise was attempted at Beauport. Jacques was +so weary, as he toiled back uphill in diminishing light, that he +gratefully crawled upon a cart and lay still, letting it take him +wherever the carter might be going. There were not enough horses and +oxen in Canada to move the supplies for the army from Montreal to +Quebec by land. Transports had to slip down the St. Lawrence by night, +running a gauntlet of vigilant English vessels. Yet whenever the +intendant Bigot wanted to shift anything, he did not lack oxen or +wheels. Jacques did not talk to the carter, but he knew a load of +king's provisions was going out to some favorite of the intendant's +who had been set to guard the northern heights. The stealings of this +popular civil officer were common talk in Quebec. + +That long slope called the Plains of Abraham, which swept away from +the summit of the rock toward Cap Rouge, seemed very near the sky. +Jacques watched dusk envelop this place. Patches of faded herbage and +stripped corn, and a few trees only, broke the monotony of its extent. +On the north side, overhanging the winding valley of the St. Charles, +the rock's great shoulder was called Côte Ste. Geneviève. The bald +plain was about a mile wide, but the cart jogged a mile and a half +from Quebec before it reached the tents where its freight was to be +discharged. + +Habit had taken the young Repentigny daily to his father's camp, +but this was the first time he had seen the guard along the heights. +Montcalm's soldiers knew him. He was permitted to handle arms. Many +a boy of fifteen was then in the ranks, and children of his age were +growing used to war. His father called it his apprenticeship to the +trade. A few empty houses stood some distance back of the tents; and +farther along the precipice, beyond brush and trees, other guards were +posted. Seventy men and four cannon completed the defensive line which +Montcalm had drawn around the top of the rock. Half the number could +have kept it, by vigilance. And it was evident that the officer in +charge thought so, and was taking advantage of his general's bounty. + +"Remember I am sending you to my field as well as to your own," the +boy overheard him say. Nearly all his company were gathered in a +little mob before his tent. He sat there on a camp stool. They were +Canadians from Lorette, anxious for leave of absence, and full of +promises. + +"Yes, monsieur, we will remember your field." "Yes, Captain Vergor, +your grain as soon as we have gathered ours in." "It shall be done, +captain." + +Jacques had heard of Vergor. A few years before, Vergor had been put +under arrest for giving up Fort Beauséjour, in Acadia, to the English +without firing a shot. The boy thought it strange that such a man +should be put in charge of any part of the defensive cordon around +Quebec. But Vergor had a friend in the intendant Bigot, who knew +how to reinstate his disgraced favorites. The arriving cart drew the +captain's attention from his departing men. He smiled, his depressed +nose and fleshy lips being entirely good-natured. + +"A load of provisions, and a recruit for my company," he said. + +"Monsieur the captain needs recruits," observed Jacques. + +"Society is what I need most," said Vergor. "And from appearances I +am going to have it at my supper which the cook is about to set before +me." + +"I think I will stay all night here," said Jacques. + +"You overwhelm me," responded Vergor. + +"There are so many empty tents." + +"Fill as many of them as you can," suggested Vergor. "You are +doubtless much away from your mother, inspecting the troops; but what +will madame say if you fail to answer at her roll call to-night?" + +"Nothing. I should be in my father's tent at Montreal, if she had been +able to go when he was ordered back there." + +"Who is your father?" + +"Le Gardeur de Repentigny." + +Vergor drew his lips together for a soft whistle, as he rose to direct +the storing of his goods. + +"It is a young general with whom I am to have the honor of messing. I +thought he had the air of camps and courts the moment I saw his head +over the side of the cart." + +Many a boy secretly despises the man to whose merry insolence he +submits. But the young Repentigny felt for Vergor such contempt as +only an incompetent officer inspires. + +No sentinels were stationed. The few soldiers remaining busied +themselves over their mess fires. Jacques looked down a cove not quite +as steep as the rest of the cliff, yet as nearly perpendicular as any +surface on which trees and bushes can take hold. It was clothed with +a thick growth of sere weeds, cut by one hint of a diagonal line. +Perhaps laborers at a fulling mill now rotting below had once climbed +this rock. Rain had carried the earth from above in small cataracts +down its face, making a thin alluvial coating. A strip of land +separated the rock from the St. Lawrence, which looked wide and gray +in the evening light. Showers raked the far-off opposite hills. Leaves +showing scarlet or orange were dulled by flying mist. + +The boy noticed more boats drifting up river on the tide than he had +counted in Quebec Basin. + +"Where are all the vessels going?" he asked the nearest soldier. + +"Nowhere. They only move back and forth with the tide." + +"But they are English ships. Why don't you fire on them?" + +"We have no orders. And besides, our own transports have to slip down +among them at night. One is pretty careful not to knock the bottom out +of the dish which carries his meat." + +"The English might land down there some dark night." + +"They may land; but, unfortunately for themselves, they have no +wings." + +The boy did not answer, but he thought, "If my father and General +Levis were posted here, wings would be of no use to the English." + +His distinct little figure, outlined against the sky, could be seen +from the prisoners' ship. One prisoner saw him without taking any note +that he was a child. Her eyes were fierce and red-rimmed. She was +the only woman on the deck, having come up the gangway to get rid of +habitantes. These fellow-prisoners of hers were that moment putting +their heads together below and talking about Mademoiselle Jeannette +Descheneaux. They were perhaps the only people in the world who took +any thought of her. Highlanders and seamen moving on deck scarcely +saw her. In every age of the world beauty has ruled men. Jeannette +Descheneaux was a big, manly Frenchwoman, with a heavy voice. In +Quebec, she was a contrast to the exquisite and diaphanous creatures +who sometimes kneeled beside her in the cathedral, or looked out of +sledge or sedan chair at her as she tramped the narrow streets. They +were the beauties of the governor's court, who permitted in a new +land the corrupt gallantries of Versailles. She was the daughter of +a shoemaker, and had been raised to a semi-official position by the +promotion of her brother in the government. Her brother had grown rich +with the company of speculators who preyed on the province and the +king's stores. He had one motherless child, and Jeannette took charge +of it and his house until the child died. She was perhaps a masculine +nourisher of infancy; yet the upright mark between her black eyebrows, +so deep that it seemed made by a hatchet, had never been there before +the baby's death; and it was by stubbornly venturing too far among the +parishes to seek the child's foster mother, who was said to be in some +peril at Petit Cap, that Jeannette got herself taken prisoner. + +For a month this active woman had been a dreamer of dreams. Every day +the prison ship floated down to Quebec, and her past stood before her +like a picture. Every night it floated up to Cap Rouge, where French +camp fires flecked the gorge and the north shore stretching westward. +No strict guard was kept over the prisoners. She sat on the ship's +deck, and a delicious languor, unlike any former experience, grew +and grew upon her. The coaxing graces of pretty women she never +caricatured. Her skin was of the dark red tint which denotes a testy +disposition. She had fierce one-sided wars for trivial reasons, and +was by nature an aggressive partisan, even in the cause of a dog or a +cat. Being a woman of few phrases, she repeated these as often as +she had occasion for speech, and divided the world simply into two +classes: two or three individuals, including herself, were human +beings; the rest of mankind she denounced, in a voice which shook the +walls, as spawn. One does not like to be called spawn. + +Though Jeannette had never given herself to exaggerated worship, she +was religious. The lack of priest and mass on the prison transport +was blamed for the change which came over her. A haze of real feminine +softness, like the autumn's purpling of rocks, made her bones less +prominent. But the habitantes, common women from the parishes, who had +children and a few of their men with them, saw what ailed her. They +noticed that while her enmity to the English remained unchanged, she +would not hear a word against the Highlanders, though Colonel Fraser +and his Seventy-Eighth Highland regiment had taken her prisoner. It is +true, Jeannette was treated with deference, and her food was sent to +her from the officer's table, and she had privacy on the ship which +the commoner prisoners had not. It is also true that Colonel Fraser +was a gentleman, detesting the parish-burning to which his command was +ordered for a time. But the habitantes laid much to his blue eyes and +yellow hair, and the picturesqueness of the red and pale green Fraser +tartan. They nudged one another when Jeannette began to plait her +strong black locks, and make a coronet of them on her sloping head. +She was always exact and neat in her dress, and its mannishness stood +her in good stead during her month's imprisonment. Rough wool was +her invariable wear, instead of taffetas and silky furs, which Quebec +women delighted in. She groomed herself carefully each day for +that approach to the English camp at Point Levi which the tide +accomplished. Her features could be distinguished half a mile. On the +days when Colonel Fraser's fezlike plumed bonnet was lifted to her in +the camp, she went up the river again in a trance of quiet. On other +days the habitantes laughed, and said to one another, "Mademoiselle +will certainly break through the deck with her tramping." + +There was a general restlessness on the prison ship. The English +sailors wanted to go home. The Canadians had been patient since the +middle of August. But this particular September night, as they drifted +up past the rock, and saw the defenses of their country bristling +against them, the feeling of homesickness vented itself in complaints. +Jeannette was in her cabin, and heard them abuse Colonel Fraser and +his Highlanders as kidnapers of women and children, and burners of +churches. She came out of her retreat, and hovered over them like a +hawk. The men pulled their caps off, drolly grinning. + +"It is true," added one of them, "that General Montcalm is to blame +for letting the parishes burn. And at least he might take us away from +the English." + +"Do you think Monsieur de Montcalm has nothing to do but bring you in +off the river?" demanded Jeannette. + +"Mademoiselle does not want to be brought in," retorted one of the +women. "As for us, we are not in love with these officers who wear +petticoats, or with any of our enemies." + +"Spawn!" Jeanette hurled at them. Yet her partisan fury died in her +throat. She went up on deck to be away from her accusers. The seamed +precipice, the indented cove with the child's figure standing at the +top, and all the panorama to which she was so accustomed by morning +light or twilight passed before her without being seen by her fierce +red-rimmed eyes. + +Jeannette Descheneaux had walked through the midst of colonial +intrigues without knowing that they existed. Men she ignored; and she +could not now account for her keen knowledge that there was a colonel +of the Seventy-Eighth Highlanders. Her entanglement had taken her in +the very simplicity of childhood. She could not blame him. He had +done nothing but lift his bonnet to her, and treat her with deference +because he was sorry she had fallen into his hands. But at first she +fought with silent fury the power he unconsciously held over her. She +felt only the shame of it, which the habitantes had cast upon her. +Nobody had ever called Jeannette Descheneaux a silly woman. In early +life it was thought she had a vocation for the convent; but she drew +back from that, and now she was suddenly desolate. Her brother had his +consolations. There was nothing for her. + +Scant tears, oozing like blood, moistened her eyes. She took hold of +her throat to strangle a sob. Her teeth chattered in the wind blowing +down river. Constellations came up over the rock's long shoulder. +Though it was a dark night, the stars were clear. She took no heed +of the French camp fires in the gorge and along the bank. The French +commander there had followed the erratic motions of English boats +until they ceased to alarm him. It was flood tide. The prison ship sat +on the water, scarcely swinging. + +At one o'clock Jeannette was still on deck, having watched through the +midnight of her experience. She had no phrases for her thoughts. They +were dumb, but they filled her to the outermost layer of her skin, and +deadened sensation. + +Boats began to disturb her, however. They trailed past the ship with +a muffled swish, all of them disappearing in the darkness. This +gathering must have been going on some time before she noticed it. The +lantern hanging aloft made a mere warning spot in the darkness, for +the lights on deck had been put out. All the English ships, when she +looked about her, were to be guessed at, for not a port-hole cast +its cylinder of radiance on the water. Night muffled their hulls, and +their safety lights hung in a scattered constellation. In one place +two lanterns hung on one mast. + +Jeannette felt the pull of the ebbing tide. The ship gave way to it. +As it swung, and the monotonous flow of the water became constant, she +heard a boat grate, and directly Colonel Fraser came up the vessel's +side, and stood on deck where she could touch him. He did not know +that the lump of blackness almost beneath his hand was a breathing +woman; and if he had known, he would have disregarded her then. But +she knew him, from indistinct cap and the white pouch at his girdle to +the flat Highland shoes. + +Whether the Highlanders on the ship were watching for him to appear as +their signal, or he had some private admonition for them, they started +up from spots which Jeannette had thought vacant darkness, probably +armed and wrapped in their plaids. She did not know what he said to +them. One by one they got quickly over the ship's side. She did not +form any resolution, and neither did she hesitate; but, drawing tight +around her the plaidlike length of shawl which had served her nearly a +lifetime, she stood up ready to take her turn. + +Jeannette seemed to swallow her heart as she climbed over the rail. +The Highlanders were all in the boat except their colonel. He drew in +his breath with a startled sound, and she knew the sweep of her skirt +must have betrayed her. She expected to fall into the river; but her +hand took sure hold of a ladder of rope, and, creeping down backward, +she set her foot in the bateau. It was a large and steady open boat. +Some of the men were standing. She had entered the bow, and as Colonel +Fraser dropped in they cast off, and she sat down, finding a bench +as she had found foothold. The Highland officer was beside her. They +could not see each other's faces. She was not sure he had detected +her. The hardihood which had taken her beyond the French lines in +search of on whom she felt under her protection was no longer in her. +A cowering woman with a boatload of English soldiers palpitated under +the darkness. It was necessary only to steer; both tide and current +carried them steadily down. On the surface of the river, lines of dark +objects followed. A fleet of the enemy's transports was moving towards +Quebec. + +To most women country means home. Jeannette was tenaciously fond +of the gray old city of Quebec, but home to her was to be near that +Highland officer. Her humiliation passed into the very agony of +tenderness. To go wherever he was going was enough. She did not want +him to speak to her, or touch her, or give any sign that he knew +she was in the world. She wanted to sit still by his side under the +negation of darkness and be satisfied. Jeannette had never dreamed +how long the hours between turn of tide and dawn may be. They were the +principal part of her life. + +Keen stars held the sky at immeasurable heights. There was no mist. +The chill wind had swept the river clear like a great path. Within +reach of Jeannette's hand, but hidden from her, as most of us are +hidden from one another, sat one more solitary than herself. He had +not her robust body. Disease and anxiety had worn him away while he +was hopelessly besieging Quebec. In that last hour before the 13th of +September dawned, General Wolfe was groping down river toward one of +the most desperate military attempts in the history of the world. + +There was no sound but the rustle of the water, the stir of a foot as +some standing man shifted his weight, and the light click of metal +as guns in unsteady hands touched barrels. A voice, modulating rhythm +which Jeannette could not understand, began to speak. General Wolfe +was reciting an English poem. The strain upon his soul was more +than he could bear, and he relieved it by those low-uttered rhymes. +Jeannette did not know one word of English. The meaning which reached +her was a dirge, but a noble dirge; the death hymn of a human being +who has lived up to his capacities. She felt strangely influenced, +as by the neighborhood of some large angel, and at the same time the +tragedy of being alive overswept her. For one's duty is never all +done; or when we have accomplished it with painstaking care, we are +smitten through with finding that the greater things have passed us +by. + +The tide carried the boats near the great wall of rock. Woods made +denser shade on the background of night. The cautious murmur of the +speaker was cut short. + +"Who goes there?" came the sharp challenge of a French sentry. + +The soldiers were silent as dead men. + +"France!" answered Colonel Fraser in the same language. + +"Of what regiment?" + +"The Queen's." + +The sentry was satisfied. To the Queen's regiment, stationed at Cap +Rouge, belonged the duty of convoying provisions down to Quebec. He +did not further peril what he believed to be a French transport by +asking for the password. + +Jeannette breathed. So low had she sunk that she would have used her +language herself to get the Highland colonel past danger. + +It was fortunate for his general that he had the accent and readiness +of a Frenchman. Again they were challenged. They could see another +sentry running parallel with their course. + +"Provision boats," this time answered the Highlander. "Don't make a +noise. The English will hear us." + +That hint was enough, for an English sloop of war lay within sound of +their voices. + +With the swift tide the boats shot around a headland, and here was a +cove in the huge precipice, clothed with sere herbage and bushes and +a few trees; steep, with the hint of a once-used path across it, but +a little less perpendicular than the rest of the rock. No sentinel was +stationed at this place. + +The world was just beginning to come out of positive shadow into the +indistinctness of dawn. Current and tide were so strong that the boats +could not be steered directly to shore, but on the alluvial strip at +the base of this cove they beached themselves with such success as +they could. Twenty-four men sprung out and ran to the ascent. Their +muskets were slung upon their backs. A humid look was coming upon the +earth, and blurs were over the fading stars. The climbers separated, +each making his own way from point to point of the slippery cliff, and +swarms followed them as boat after boat discharged its load. The cove +by which he breached the stronghold of this continent, and which was +from that day to bear his name, cast its shadow on the gaunt, upturned +face of Wolfe. He waited while the troops in whom he put his trust, +with knotted muscles and panting breasts, lifted themselves to the +top. No orders were spoken. Wolfe had issued instructions the night +before, and England expected every man to do his duty. + +There was not enough light to show how Canada was taken. Jeannette +Descheneaux stepped on the sand, and the single thought which took +shape in her mind was that she must scale that ascent if the English +scaled it. + +The hope of escape to her own people did not animate her labor. She +had no hope of any sort. She felt only present necessity, which was to +climb where the Highland officer climbed. He was in front of her, and +took no notice of her until they reached a slippery wall where there +were no bushes. There he turned and caught her by the wrist, drawing +her up after him. Their faces came near together in the swimming +vapors of dawn. He had the bright look of determination. His eyes +shone. He was about to burst into the man's arena of glory. The woman, +whom he drew up because she was a woman, and because he regretted +having taken her prisoner, had the pallid look of a victim. Her tragic +black eyes and brows, and the hairs clinging in untidy threads +about her haggard cheeks instead of curling up with the damp as the +Highlandman's fleece inclined to do, worked an instant's compassion +in him. But his business was not the squiring of angular Frenchwomen. +Shots were heard at the top of the rock, a trampling rush, and then +exulting shouts. The English had taken Vergor's camp. + +The hand was gone from Jeannette's wrist,--the hand which gave her +such rapture and such pain by its firm fraternal grip. Colonel Fraser +leaped to the plain, and was in the midst of the skirmish. Cannon +spoke, like thunder rolling across one's head. A battery guarded by +the sentinels they had passed was aroused, and must be silenced. The +whole face of the cliff suddenly bloomed with scarlet uniforms. All +the men remaining in the boats went up as fire sweeps when carried +by the wind. Nothing could restrain them. They smelled gunpowder and +heard the noise of victory, and would have stormed heaven at that +instant. They surrounded Jeannette without seeing her, every man +looking up to the heights of glory, and passed her in fierce and +panting emulation. + +Jeannette leaned against the rough side of Wolfe's Cove. On the +inner surface of her eyelids she could see again the image of the +Highlandman stooping to help her, his muscular legs and neck showing +like a young god's in the early light. There she lost him, for he +forgot her. The passion of women whom nature has made unfeminine, and +who are too honest to stoop to arts, is one of the tragedies of the +world. + +Daylight broke reluctantly, with clouds mustering from the inverted +deep of the sky. A few drops of rain sprinkled the British uniforms as +battalions were formed. The battery which gave the first intimation +of danger to the French general, on the other side of Quebec, had been +taken and silenced. Wolfe and his officers hurried up the high plateau +and chose their ground. Then the troops advanced, marching by files, +Highland bagpipes screaming and droning, the earth reverberating with +a measured tread. As they moved toward Quebec they wheeled to form +their line of battle, in ranks three deep, and stretched across the +plain. The city was scarcely a mile away, but a ridge of ground still +hid it from sight. + +From her hiding-place in one of the empty houses behind Vergor's +tents, Jeannette Descheneaux watched the scarlet backs and the tartans +of the Highlanders grow smaller. She could also see the prisoners that +were taken standing under guard. As for herself, she felt that she +had no longer a visible presence, so easy had it been for her to move +among swarms of men and escape in darkness. She never had favored her +body with soft usage, but it trembled now in every part from muscular +strain. She was probably cold and hungry, but her poignant sensation +was that she had no friends. It did not matter to Jeannette that +history was being made before her, and one of the great battles of the +world was about to be fought. It only mattered that she should discern +the Fraser plaid as far as eye could follow it. There is no more +piteous thing than for one human being to be overpowered by the god in +another. + +She sat on the ground in the unfloored hut, watching through broken +chinking. There was a back door as well as a front door, hung on +wooden hinges, and she had pinned the front door as she came in. The +opening of the back door made Jeannette turn her head, though with +little interest in the comer. It was a boy, with a streak of blood +down his face and neck, and his clothes stained by the weather. He +had no hat on, and one of his shoes was missing. He put himself at +Jeannette's side without any hesitation, and joined her watch through +the broken chinking. A tear and a drop of scarlet raced down his +cheek, uniting as they dripped from his chin. + +"Have you been wounded?" inquired Jeannette. + +"It isn't the wound," he answered, "but that Captain Vergor has let +them take the heights. I heard something myself, and tried to wake +him. The pig turned over and went to sleep again." + +"Let me tie it up," said Jeannette. + +"He is shot in the heel and taken prisoner. I wish he had been shot in +the heart. He hopped out of bed and ran away when the English fired on +his tent. I have been trying to get past their lines to run to General +Montcalm; but they are everywhere," declared the boy, his chin shaking +and his breast swelling with grief. + +Jeannette turned her back on him, and found some linen about her +person which she could tear. She made a bandage for his head. It +comforted her to take hold of the little fellow and part his clotted +hair. + +"The skin of my head is torn," he admitted, while suffering the +attempted surgery. "If I had been taller, the bullet might have killed +me; and I would rather be killed than see the English on this rock, +marching to take Quebec. What will my father say? I am ashamed to look +him in the face and own I slept in the camp of Vergor last night. The +Le Moynes and Repentignys never let enemies get past them before. And +I knew that man was not keeping watch; he did not set any sentry." + +"Is it painful?" she inquired, wiping the bloody cut, which still +welled forth along its channel. + +The boy lifted his brimming eyes, and answered her from his deeper +hurt:-- + +"I don't know what to do. I think my father would make for General +Montcalm's camp if he were alone and could not attack the enemy's +rear; for something ought to be done as quickly as possible." + +Jeannette bandaged his head, the rain spattering through the broken +log house upon them both. + +"Who brought you here?" inquired Jacques. "There was nobody in these +houses last night, for I searched them myself." + +"I hid here before daybreak," she answered briefly. + +"But if you knew the English were coming, why did you not give the +alarm?" + +"I was their prisoner." + +"And where will you go now?" + +She looked towards the Plains of Abraham and said nothing. The open +chink showed Wolfe's six battalions of scarlet lines moving forward or +pausing, and the ridge above them thronging with white uniforms. + +"If you will trust yourself to me, mamoiselle," proposed Jacques, who +considered that it was not the part of a soldier or a gentleman to +leave any woman alone in this hut to take the chances of battle, and +particularly a woman who had bound up his head, "I will do my best to +help you inside the French lines." + +The singular woman did not reply to him, but continued looking through +the chink. Skirmishers were out. Puffs of smoke from cornfields and +knolls showed where Canadians and Indians hid, creeping to the flank +of the enemy. + +Jacques stooped down himself, and struck his hands together at these +sights. + +"Monsieur de Montcalm is awake, mademoiselle! And see our +sharpshooters picking them off! We can easily run inside the French +lines now. These English will soon be tumbled back the way they came +up." + +In another hour the group of houses was a roaring furnace. A +detachment of English light infantry, wheeled to drive out the +bushfighters, had lost and retaken it many times, and neither party +gave up the ready fortress until it was set on fire. Crumbling red +logs hissed in the thin rain, and smoke spread from them across the +sodden ground where Wolfe moved. The sick man had become an invincible +spirit. He flew along the ranks, waving his sword, the sleeve falling +away from his thin arm. The great soldier had thrown himself on this +venture without a chance of retreat, but every risk had been thought +of and met. He had a battalion guarding the landing. He had a force +far in the rear to watch the motions of the French at Cap Rouge. By +the arrangement of his front he had taken precautions against being +outflanked. And he knew his army was with him to a man. But Montcalm +rode up to meet him hampered by insubordinate confusion. + +Jeannette Descheneaux, carried along, with the boy, by Canadians and +Indians from the English rear to the Côte Ste. Geneviève, lay dazed in +the withered grass during the greater part of the action which decided +her people's hold on the New World. The ground resounded like a drum +with measured treading. The blaze and crash of musketry and cannon +blinded and deafened her; but when she lifted her head from the shock +of the first charge, the most instantaneous and shameful panic that +ever seized a French army had already begun. The skirmishers in +the bushes could not understand it. Smoke parted, and she saw the +white-and-gold French general trying to drive his men back. But they +evaded the horses of officers. + +Jacques rose, with the Canadians and Indians, to his knees. He had a +musket. Jeannette rose, also, as the Highlanders came sweeping on in +pursuit. She had scarcely been a woman to the bushfighters. They were +too eager in their aim to glance aside at a rawboned camp follower +in a wet shawl. Neither did the Highlanders distinguish from other +Canadian heads the one with a woman's braids and a faint shadowing of +hair at the corners of the mouth. They came on without suspecting +an ambush, and she heard their strange cries--"Cath-Shairm!" and +"Caisteal Duna!"--when the shock of a volley stopped the streaming +tartans. She saw the play of surprise and fury in those mountaineer +faces. They threw down their muskets, and turned on the ambushed +Canadians, short sword in hand. + +Never did knight receive the blow of the accolade as that crouching +woman took a Highland knife in her breast. For one breath she grasped +the back of it with both hands, and her rapt eyes met the horrified +eyes of Colonel Fraser. He withdrew the weapon, standing defenseless, +and a ball struck him, cutting the blood across his arm, and again he +was lost in the fury of battle, while Jeannette felt herself dragged +down the slope. + +She resisted. She heard a boy's voice pleading with her, but she got +up and tried to go back to the spot from which she had been dragged. +The Canadians and Indians were holding their ground. She heard their +muskets, but they were far behind her, and the great rout caught her +and whirled her. Officers on their horses were borne struggling along +in it. She fell down and was trampled on, but something helped her up. + +The flood of men poured along the front of the ramparts and down to +the bridge of boats on the St. Charles, or into the city walls through +the St. Louis and St. John gates. + +To Jeannette the world was far away. Yet she found it once more close +at hand, as she stood with her back against the lofty inner wall. The +mad crowd had passed, and gone shouting down the narrow streets. +But the St. Louis gate was still choked with fugitives when Montcalm +appeared, reeling on his horse, supported by a soldier on each side. +His white uniform was stained on the breast, and blood dripped from +the saddle. Jeannette heard the piercing cry of a little girl: +"Oh heavens! Oh heavens! The marquis is killed!" And she heard +the fainting general gasp, "It is nothing, it is nothing. Don't be +troubled for me, my children." + +She knew how he felt as he was led by. The indistinctness of the +opposite wall, which widened from the gate, was astonishing. And she +was troubled by the same little boy whose head she had tied up in +the log house. Jeannette looked obliquely down at him as she braced +herself with chill fingers, and discerned that he was claimed by a +weeping little girl to whom he yet paid no attention. + +"Let me help you, mademoiselle," he urged, troubling her. + +"Go away," said Jeannette. + +"But, mademoiselle, you have been badly hurt." + +"Go away," said Jeannette, and her limbs began to settle. She thought +of smiling at the children, but her features were already cast. The +English child held her on one side, and the French child on the other, +as she collapsed in a sitting posture. Tender nuns, going from friend +to foe, would find this stoical face against the wall. It was no +strange sight then. Canada was taken. + +Men with bloody faces were already running with barricades for the +gates. Wailing for Montcalm could be heard. + +The boy put his arm abound the girl and turned her eyes away. They ran +together up towards the citadel: England and France with their hands +locked; young Canada weeping, but having a future. + + + + +THE WINDIGO. + + +The cry of those rapids in Ste. Marie's River called the Sault could +be heard at all hours through the settlement on the rising shore and +into the forest beyond. Three quarters of a mile of frothing billows, +like some colossal instrument, never ceased playing music down an +inclined channel until the trance of winter locked it up. At August +dusk, when all that shaggy world was sinking to darkness, the gushing +monotone became very distinct. + +Louizon Cadotte and his father's young seignior, Jacques de +Repentigny, stepped from a birch canoe on the bank near the fort, two +Chippewa Indians following with their game. Hunting furnished no +small addition to the food supply of the settlement, for the English +conquest had brought about scarcity at this as well as other Western +posts. Peace was declared in Europe; but soldiers on the frontier, +waiting orders to march out at any time, were not abundantly supplied +with stores, and they let season after season go by, reluctant to put +in harvests which might be reaped by their successors. + +Jacques was barely nineteen, and Louizon was considerably older. But +the Repentignys had gone back to France after the fall of Quebec; and +five years of European life had matured the young seignior as decades +of border experience would never mature his half-breed tenant. Yet +Louizon was a fine dark-skinned fellow, well made for one of short +stature. He trod close by his tall superior with visible fondness; +enjoying this spectacle of a man the like of whom he had not seen on +the frontier. + +Jacques looked back, as he walked, at the long zigzag shadows on the +river. Forest fire in the distance showed a leaning column, black at +base, pearl-colored in the primrose air, like smoke from some gigantic +altar. He had seen islands in the lake under which the sky seemed to +slip, throwing them above the horizon in mirage, and trees standing +like detached bushes on a world rim of water. The Ste. Marie River was +a beautiful light green in color, and sunset and twilight played upon +it all the miracles of change. + +"I wish my father had never left this country," said young Repentigny, +feeling that spell cast by the wilderness. "Here is his place. He +should have withdrawn to the Sault, and accommodated himself to the +English, instead of returning to France. The service in other parts +of the world does not suit him. Plenty of good men have held to Canada +and their honor also." + +"Yes, yes," assented Louizon. "The English cannot be got rid of. For +my part, I shall be glad when this post changes hands. I am sick of +our officers." + +He scowled with open resentment. The seigniory house faced the parade +ground, and they could see against its large low mass, lounging on the +gallery, one each side of a window, the white uniforms of two French +soldiers. The window sashes, screened by small curtains across the +middle, were swung into the room; and Louizon's wife leaned on her +elbows across the sill, the rosy atmosphere of his own fire projecting +to view every ring of her bewitching hair, and even her long eyelashes +as she turned her gaze from side to side. + +It was so dark, and the object of their regard was so bright, that +these buzzing bees of Frenchmen did not see her husband until he ran +up the steps facing them. Both of them greeted him heartily. He felt +it a peculiar indignity that his wife's danglers forever passed their +good-will on to him; and he left them in the common hall, with his +father and the young seignior, and the two or three Indians who +congregated there every evening to ask for presents or to smoke. + +Louizon's wife met him in the middle of the broad low apartment where +he had been so proud to introduce her as a bride, and turned her +cheek to be kissed. She was not fond of having her lips touched. Her +hazel-colored hair was perfumed. She was so supple and exquisite, so +dimpled and aggravating, that the Chippewa in him longed to take her +by the scalp-lock of her light head; but the Frenchman bestowed the +salute. Louizon had married the prettiest woman in the settlement. +Life overflowed in her, so that her presence spread animation. Both +men and women paid homage to her. Her very mother-in-law was her +slave. And this was the stranger spectacle because Madame Cadotte +the senior, though born a Chippewa, did not easily make herself +subservient to anybody. + +The time had been when Louizon was proud of any notice this siren +conferred on him. But so exacting and tyrannical is the nature of man +that when he got her he wanted to keep her entirely to himself. From +his Chippewa mother, who, though treated with deference, had never +dared to disobey his father, he inherited a fond and jealous nature; +and his beautiful wife chafed it. Young Repentigny saw that she was +like a Parisian. But Louizon felt that she was a spirit too fine and +tantalizing for him to grasp, and she had him in her power. + +He hung his powderhorn behind the door, and stepped upon a stool to +put his gun on its rack above the fireplace. The fire showed his round +figure, short but well muscled, and the boyish petulance of his shaven +lip. The sun shone hot upon the Sault of an August noon, but morning +and night were cool, and a blaze was usually kept in the chimney. + +"You found plenty of game?" said his wife; and it was one of this +woman's wickedest charms that she could be so interested in her +companion of the moment. + +"Yes," he answered, scowling more, and thinking of the brace on the +gallery whom he had not shot, but wished to. + +She laughed at him. + +"Archange Cadotte," said Louizon, turning around on the stool before +he descended; and she spread out her skirts, taking two dancing steps +to indicate that she heard him. "How long am I to be mortified by your +conduct to Monsieur de Repentigny?" + +"Oh--Monsieur de Repentigny. It is now that boy from France, at whom I +have never looked." + +"The man I would have you look at, madame, you scarcely notice." + +"Why should I notice him? He pays little attention to me." + +"Ah, he is not one of your danglers, madame. He would not look at +another man's wife. He has had trouble himself." + +"So will you have if you scorch the backs of your legs," observed +Archange. + +Louizon stood obstinately on the stool and ignored the heat. He was in +the act of stepping down, but he checked it as she spoke. + +"Monsieur de Repentigny came back to this country to marry a young +English lady of Quebec. He thinks of her, not of you." + +"I am sure he is welcome," murmured Archange. "But it seems the young +English lady prefers to stay in Quebec." + +"She never looked at any other man, madame. She is dead." + +"No wonder. I should be dead, too, if I had looked at one stupid man +all my life." + +Louizon's eyes sparkled. "Madame, I will have you know that the +seignior of Sault Ste. Marie is entitled to your homage." + +"Monsieur, I will have you know that I do not pay homage to any man." + +"You, Archange Cadotte? You are in love with a new man every day." + +"Not in the least, monsieur. I only desire to have a new man in love +with me every day." + +Her mischievous mouth was a scarlet button in her face, and Louizon +leaped to the floor, and kicked the stool across the room. + +"The devil himself is no match at all for you!" + +"But I married him before I knew that," returned Archange; and Louizon +grinned in his wrath. + +"I don't like such women." + +"Oh yes, you do. Men always like women whom they cannot chain." + +"I have never tried to chain you." Her husband approached, shaking his +finger at her. "There is not another woman in the settlement who has +her way as you have. And see how you treat me!" + +"How do I treat you?" inquired Archange, sitting down and resigning +herself to statistics. + +"Ste. Marie! St. Joseph!" shouted the Frenchman. "How does she treat +me! And every man in the seigniory dangling at her apron string!" + +"You are mistaken. There is the young seignior; and there is the new +English commandant, who must be now within the seigniory, for they +expect him at the post to-morrow morning. It is all the same: if I +look at a man you are furious, and if I refuse to look at him you are +more furious still." + +Louizon felt that inward breaking up which proved to him that he could +not stand before the tongue of this woman. Groping for expression, he +declared,-- + +"If thou wert sickly or blind, I would be just as good to thee as when +thou wert a bride. I am not the kind that changes if a woman loses her +fine looks." + +"No doubt you would like to see me with the smallpox," suggested +Archange. "But it is never best to try a man too far." + +"You try me too far,--let me tell you that. But you shall try me no +further." + +The Indian appeared distinctly on his softer French features, as one +picture may be stamped over another. + +"Smoke a pipe, Louizon," urged the thorn in his flesh. "You are always +so much more agreeable when your mouth is stopped." + +But he left the room without looking at her again. Archange remarked +to herself that he would be better natured when his mother had given +him his supper; and she yawned, smiling at the maladroit creatures +whom she made her sport. Her husband was the best young man in the +settlement. She was entirely satisfied with him, and grateful to +him for taking the orphan niece of a poor post commandant, without +prospects since the conquest, and giving her sumptuous quarters and +comparative wealth; but she could not forbear amusing herself with his +masculine weaknesses. + +Archange was by no means a slave in the frontier household. She did +not spin, or draw water, or tend the oven. Her mother-in-law, Madame +Cadotte, had a hold on perennially destitute Chippewa women who could +be made to work for longer or shorter periods in a Frenchman's kitchen +or loom-house instead of with savage implements. Archange's bed had +ruffled curtains, and her pretty dresses, carefully folded, filled a +large chest. + +She returned to the high window sill, and watched the purple distances +growing black. She could smell the tobacco the men were smoking in the +open hall, and hear their voices. Archange knew what her mother-in-law +was giving the young seignior and Louizon for their supper. She could +fancy the officers laying down their pipes to draw to the board, also, +for the Cadottes kept open house all the year round. + +The thump of the Indian drum was added to the deep melody of the +rapids. There were always a few lodges of Chippewas about the Sault. +When the trapping season and the maple-sugar making were over and his +profits drunk up, time was the largest possession of an Indian. He +spent it around the door of his French brother, ready to fish or to +drink whenever invited. If no one cared to go on the river, he turned +to his hereditary amusements. Every night that the rapids were void of +torches showing where the canoes of white fishers darted, the thump of +the Indian drum and the yell of Indian dancers could be heard. + +Archange's mind was running on the new English garrison who were said +to be so near taking possession of the picketed fort, when she +saw something red on the parade ground. The figure stood erect and +motionless, gathering all the remaining light on its indistinct +coloring, and Archange's heart gave a leap at the hint of a military +man in a red uniform. She was all alive, like a whitefisher casting +the net or a hunter sighting game. It was Archange's nature, without +even taking thought, to turn her head on her round neck so that the +illuminated curls would show against a background of wall, and wreathe +her half-bare arms across the sill. To be looked at, to lure and +tantalize, was more than pastime. It was a woman's chief privilege. +Archange held the secret conviction that the priest himself could be +made to give her lighter penances by an angelic expression she could +assume. It is convenient to have large brown eyes and the trick of +casting them sidewise in sweet distress. + +But the Chippewa widow came in earlier than usual that evening, being +anxious to go back to the lodges to watch the dancing. Archange pushed +the sashes shut, ready for other diversion, and Michel Pensonneau +never failed to furnish her that. The little boy was at the widow's +heels. Michel was an orphan. + +"If Archange had children," Madame Cadotte had said to Louizon, "she +would not seek other amusement. Take the little Pensonneau lad that +his grandmother can hardly feed. He will give Archange something to +do." + +So Louizon brought home the little Pensonneau lad. Archange looked at +him, and considered that here was another person to wait on her. As to +keeping him clean and making clothes for him, they might as well have +expected her to train the sledge dogs. She made him serve her, but for +mothering he had to go to Madame Cadotte. Yet Archange far outweighed +Madame Cadotte with him. The labors put upon him by the autocrat of +the house were sweeter than mococks full of maple sugar from the hand +of the Chippewa housekeeper. At first Archange would not let him come +into her room. She dictated to him through door or window. But when he +grew fat with good food and was decently clad under Madame Cadotte's +hand, the great promotion of entering that sacred apartment was +allowed him. Michel came in whenever he could. It was his nightly +habit to follow the Chippewa widow there after supper, and watch her +brush Archange's hair. + +Michel stood at the end of the hearth with a roll of pagessanung or +plum-leather in his fist. His cheeks had a hard garnered redness like +polished apples. The Chippewa widow set her husband carefully against +the wall. The husband was a bundle about two feet long, containing +her best clothes tied up in her dead warrior's sashes and rolled in a +piece of cloth. His armbands and his necklace of bear's-claws appeared +at the top as a grotesque head. This bundle the widow was obliged to +carry with her everywhere. To be seen without it was a disgrace, until +that time when her husband's nearest relations should take it away +from her and give her new clothes, thus signifying that she had +mourned long enough to satisfy them. As the husband's relations +were unable to cover themselves, the prospect of her release seemed +distant. For her food she was glad to depend on her labor in the +Cadotte household. There was no hunter to supply her lodge now. + +The widow let down Archange's hair and began to brush it. The long +mass was too much for its owner to handle. It spread around her like +a garment, as she sat on her chair, and its ends touched the floor. +Michel thought there was nothing more wonderful in the world than this +glory of hair, its rings and ripples shining in the firelight. The +widow's jaws worked in unobtrusive rumination on a piece of pleasantly +bitter fungus, the Indian substitute for quinine, which the Chippewas +called waubudone. As she consoled herself much with this medicine, +and her many-syllabled name was hard to pronounce, Archange called her +Waubudone, an offense against her dignity which the widow might not +have endured from anybody else, though she bore it without a word from +this soft-haired magnate. + +As she carefully carded the mass of hair lock by lock, thinking it +an unnecessary nightly labor, the restless head under her hands +was turned towards the portable husband. Archange had not much +imagination, but to her the thing was uncanny. She repeated what she +said every night:-- + +"Do stand him in the hall and let him smell the smoke, Waubudone." + +"No," refused the widow. + +"But I don't want him in my bedroom. You are not obliged to keep that +thing in your sight all the time." + +"Yes," said the widow. + +A dialect of mingled French and Chippewa was what they spoke, and +Michel knew enough of both tongues to follow the talk. + +"Are they never going to take him from you? If they don't take him +from you soon, I shall go to the lodges and speak to his people about +it myself." + +The Chippewa widow usually passed over this threat in silence; but, +threading a lock with the comb, she now said,-- + +"Best not go to the lodges awhile." + +"Why?" inquired Archange. "Have the English already arrived? Is the +tribe dissatisfied?" + +"Don't know that." + +"Then why should I not go to the lodges?" + +"Windigo at the Sault now." + +Archange wheeled to look at her face. The widow was unmoved. She +was little older than Archange, but her features showed a stoical +harshness in the firelight. Michel, who often went to the lodges, +widened his mouth and forgot to fill it with plum-leather. There was +no sweet which Michel loved as he did this confection of wild plums +and maple sugar boiled down and spread on sheets of birch bark. Madame +Cadotte made the best pagessanung at the Sault. + +"Look at the boy," laughed Archange. "He will not want to go to the +lodges any more after dark." + +The widow remarked, noting Michel's fat legs and arms,-- + +"Windigo like to eat him." + +"I would kill a windigo," declared Michel, in full revolt. + +"Not so easy to kill a windigo. Bad spirits help windigos. If man kill +windigo and not tear him to pieces, he come to life again." + +Archange herself shuddered at such a tenacious creature. She was less +superstitious than the Chippewa woman, but the Northwest had its human +terrors as dark as the shadow of witchcraft. + +Though a Chippewa was bound to dip his hand in the war kettle and +taste the flesh of enemies after victory, there was nothing he +considered more horrible than a confirmed cannibal. He believed that +a person who had eaten human flesh to satisfy hunger was never +afterwards contented with any other kind, and, being deranged and +possessed by the spirit of a beast, he had to be killed for the safety +of the community. The cannibal usually became what he was by stress +of starvation: in the winter when hunting failed and he was far from +help, or on a journey when provisions gave out, and his only choice +was to eat a companion or die. But this did not excuse him. As soon as +he was detected the name of "windigo" was given him, and if he did not +betake himself again to solitude he was shot or knocked on the head +at the first convenient opportunity. Archange remembered one such +wretched creature who had haunted the settlement awhile, and then +disappeared. His canoe was known, and when it hovered even distantly +on the river every child ran to its mother. The priest was less +successful with this kind of outcast than with any other barbarian on +the frontier. + +"Have you seen him, Waubudone?" inquired Archange. "I wonder if it is +the same man who used to frighten us?" + +"This windigo a woman. Porcupine in her. She lie down and roll up and +hide her head when you drive her off." + +"Did you drive her off?" + +"No. She only come past my lodge in the night." + +"Did you see her?" + +"No, I smell her." + +Archange had heard of the atmosphere which windigos far gone in +cannibalism carried around them. She desired to know nothing more +about the poor creature, or the class to which the poor creature +belonged, if such isolated beings may be classed. The Chippewa +widow talked without being questioned, however, preparing to reduce +Archange's mass of hair to the compass of a nightcap. + +"My grandmother told me there was a man dreamed he had to eat seven +persons. He sat by the fire and shivered. If his squaw wanted meat, he +quarreled with her. 'Squaw, take care. Thou wilt drive me so far that +I shall turn windigo.'" + +People who did not give Archange the keen interest of fascinating them +were a great weariness to her. Humble or wretched human life filled +her with disgust. She could dance all night at the weekly dances, +laughing in her sleeve at girls from whom she took the best partners. +But she never helped nurse a sick child, and it made her sleepy to +hear of windigos and misery. Michel wanted to squat by the chimney and +listen until Louizon came in; but she drove him out early. Louizon +was kind to the orphan, who had been in some respects a failure, and +occasionally let him sleep on blankets or skins by the hearth instead +of groping to the dark attic. And if Michel ever wanted to escape the +attic, it was to-night, when a windigo was abroad. But Louizon did not +come. + +It must have been midnight when Archange sat up in bed, startled out +of sleep by her mother-in-law, who held a candle between the curtains. +Madame Cadotte's features were of a mild Chippewa type, yet the +restless aboriginal eye made Archange uncomfortable with its anxiety. + +"Louizon is still away," said his mother. + +"Perhaps he went whitefishing after he had his supper." The young wife +yawned and rubbed her eyes, beginning to notice that her husband might +be doing something unusual. + +"He did not come to his supper." + +"Yes, mama. He came in with Monsieur de Repentigny." + +"I did not see him. The seignior ate alone." + +Archange stared, fully awake. "Where does the seignior say he is?" + +"The seignior does not know. They parted at the door." + +"Oh, he has gone to the lodges to watch the dancing." + +"I have been there. No one has seen him since he set out to hunt this +morning." + +"Where are Louizon's canoemen?" + +"Jean Boucher and his son are at the dancing. They say he came into +this house." + +Archange could not adjust her mind to anxiety without the suspicion +that her mother-in-law might be acting as the instrument of Louizon's +resentment. The huge feather bed was a tangible comfort interposed +betwixt herself and calamity. + +"He was sulky to-night," she declared. "He has gone up to sleep in +Michel's attic to frighten me." + +"I have been there. I have searched the house." + +"But are you sure it was Michel in the bed?" + +"There was no one. Michel is here." + +Archange snatched the curtain aside, and leaned out to see the orphan +sprawled on a bearskin in front of the collapsing logs. He had pushed +the sashes inward from the gallery and hoisted himself over the high +sill after the bed drapery was closed for the night, for the window +yet stood open. Madame Cadotte sheltered the candle she carried, but +the wind blew it out. There was a rich glow from the fireplace upon +Michel's stuffed legs and arms, his cheeks, and the full parted lips +through which his breath audibly flowed. The other end of the room, +lacking the candle, was in shadow. The thump of the Indian drum could +still be heard, and distinctly and more distinctly, as if they were +approaching the house, the rapids. + +Both women heard more. They had not noticed any voice at the window +when they were speaking themselves, but some offensive thing scented +the wind, and they heard, hoarsely spoken in Chippewa from the +gallery,-- + +"How fat he is!" + +Archange, with a gasp, threw herself upon her mother-in-law for +safety, and Madame Cadotte put both arms and the smoking candle around +her. A feeble yet dexterous scramble on the sill resulted in something +dropping into the room. It moved toward the hearth glow, a gaunt +vertebrate body scarcely expanded by ribs, but covered by a red +blanket, and a head with deathlike features overhung by strips of +hair. This vision of famine leaned forward and indented Michel with +one finger, croaking again,-- + +"How fat he is!" + +The boy roused himself, and, for one instant stupid and apologetic, +was going to sit up and whine. He saw what bent over him, and, +bristling with unimaginable revolutions of arms and legs, he yelled a +yell which seemed to sweep the thing back through the window. + +Next day no one thought of dancing or fishing or of the coming +English. Frenchmen and Indians turned out together to search for +Louizon Cadotte. Though he never in his life had set foot to any +expedition without first notifying his household, and it was not the +custom to hunt alone in the woods, his disappearance would not have +roused the settlement in so short a time had there been no windigo +hanging about the Sault. It was told that the windigo, who entered his +house again in the night, must have made way with him. + +Jacques Repentigny heard this with some amusement. Of windigos he had +no experience, but he had hunted and camped much of the summer with +Louizon. + +"I do not think he would let himself be knocked on the head by a +woman," said Jacques. + +"White chief doesn't know what helps a windigo," explained a Chippewa; +and the canoeman Jean Boucher interpreted him. "Bad spirit makes a +windigo strong as a bear. I saw this one. She stole my whitefish and +ate them raw." + +"Why didn't you give her cooked food when you saw her?" demanded +Jacques. + +"She would not eat that now. She likes offal better." + +"Yes, she was going to eat me," declared Michel Pensonneau. "After +she finished Monsieur Louizon, she got through the window to carry me +off." + +Michel enjoyed the windigo. Though he strummed on his lip and mourned +aloud whenever Madame Cadotte was by, he felt so comfortably full of +food and horror, and so important with his story, that life threatened +him with nothing worse than satiety. + +While parties went up the river and down the river, and talked about +the chutes in the rapids where a victim could be sucked down to death +in an instant, or about tracing the windigo's secret camp, Archange +hid herself in the attic. She lay upon Michel's bed and wept, or +walked the plank floor. It was no place for her. At noon the bark roof +heated her almost to fever. The dormer windows gave her little air, +and there was dust as well as something like an individual sediment of +the poverty from which the boy had come. Yet she could endure the loft +dungeon better than the face of the Chippewa mother who blamed her, +or the bluff excitement of Monsieur Cadotte. She could hear his voice +from time to time, as he ran in for spirits or provisions for parties +of searchers. And Archange had aversion, like the instinct of a maid, +to betraying fondness for her husband. She was furious with him, also, +for causing her pain. When she thought of the windigo, of the rapids, +of any peril which might be working his limitless absence, she set +clenched hands in her loosened hair and trembled with hysterical +anguish. But the enormity of his behavior if he were alive made her +hiss at the rafters. "Good, monsieur! Next time I will have four +officers. I will have the entire garrison sitting along the gallery! +Yes, and they shall be English, too. And there is one thing you will +never know, besides." She laughed through her weeping. "You will never +know I made eyes at a windigo." + +The preenings and posings of a creature whose perfections he once +thought were the result of a happy chance had made Louizon roar. She +remembered all their life together, and moaned, "I will say this: +he was the best husband that any girl ever had. We scarcely had a +disagreement. But to be the widow of a man who is eaten up--O Ste. +Marie!" + +In the clear August weather the wide river seemed to bring its +opposite shores nearer. Islands within a stone's throw of the +settlement, rocky drops in a boiling current, vividly showed their +rich foliage of pines. On one of these islands Father Dablon and +Father Marquette had built their first mission chapel; and though they +afterwards removed it to the mainland, the old tracery of foundation +stones could still be seen. The mountains of Lake Superior showed like +a cloud. On the ridge above fort and houses the Chippewa lodges were +pleasant in the sunlight, sending ribbons of smoke from their camp +fires far above the serrated edge of the woods. Naked Indian children +and their playmates of the settlement shouted to one another, as they +ran along the river margin, threats of instant seizure by the windigo. +The Chippewa widow, holding her husband in her arms, for she was +not permitted to hang him on her back, stood and talked with her +red-skinned intimates of the lodges. The Frenchwomen collected at the +seigniory house. As for the men of the garrison, they were obliged +to stay and receive the English then on the way from Detour. But +they came out to see the boats off with the concern of brothers, and +Archange's uncle, the post commandant, embraced Monsieur Cadotte. + +The priest and Jacques Repentigny did not speak to each other about +that wretched creature whose hoverings around the Sault were connected +with Louizon Cadotte's disappearance. But the priest went with +Louizon's father down the river, and Jacques led the party which took +the opposite direction. Though so many years had passed since Father +Dablon and Father Marquette built the first bark chapel, their +successor found his work very little easier than theirs had been. + +A canoe was missing from the little fleet usually tied alongshore, but +it was not the one belonging to Louizon. The young seignior took that +one, having Jean Boucher and Jean's son to paddle for him. No other +man of Sault Ste. Marie could pole up the rapids or paddle down them +as this expert Chippewa could. He had been baptized with a French +name, and his son after him, but no Chippewa of pure blood and name +looked habitually as he did into those whirlpools called the chutes, +where the slip of a paddle meant death. Yet nobody feared the rapids. +It was common for boys and girls to flit around near shore in birch +canoes, balancing themselves and expertly dipping up whitefish. + +Jean Boucher thrust out his boat from behind an island, and, turning +it as a fish glides, moved over thin sheets of water spraying upon +rocks. The fall of the Ste. Marie is gradual, but even at its upper +end there is a little hill to climb. Jean set his pole into the stone +floor of the river, and lifted the vessel length by length from crest +to crest of foam. His paddles lay behind him, and his arms were bare +to the elbows, showing their strong red sinews. He had let his hair +grow like a Frenchman's, and it hung forward shading his hatless +brows. A skin apron was girded in front of him to meet waves which +frothed up over the canoe's high prow. Blacksmith of the waters, he +beat a path between juts of rock; struggling to hold a point with the +pole, calling a quick word to his helper, and laughing as he forged +his way. Other voyagers who did not care to tax themselves with this +labor made a portage with their canoes alongshore, and started above +the glassy curve where the river bends down to its leap. + +Gros Cap rose in the sky, revealing its peak in bolder lines as the +searchers pushed up the Ste. Marie, exploring mile after mile of pine +and white birch and fantastic rock. The shaggy bank stooped to them, +the illimitable glory of the wilderness witnessing a little procession +of boats like chips floating by. + +It was almost sunset when they came back, the tired paddlers keeping +near that shore on which they intended to land. No trace of Louizon +Cadotte could be found; and those who had not seen the windigo were +ready to declare that there was no such thing about the Sault, when, +just above the rapids, she appeared from the dense up-slope of forest. + +Jacques Repentigny's canoe had kept the lead, but a dozen light-bodied +Chippewas sprung on shore and rushed past him into the bushes. + +The woman had disappeared in underbrush, but, surrounded by hunters +in full chase, she came running out, and fell on her hands, making +a hoarse noise in her throat. As she looked up, all the marks in her +aged aboriginal face were distinct to Jacques Repentigny. The sutures +in her temples were parted. She rolled herself around in a ball, and +hid her head in her dirty red blanket. Any wild beast was in harmony +with the wilderness, but this sick human being was a blot upon it. +Jacques felt the compassion of a god for her. Her pursuers were after +her, and the thud of stones they threw made him heartsick, as if the +thing were done to the woman he loved. + +"Let her alone!" he commanded fiercely. + +"Kill her!" shouted the hunters. "Hit the windigo on the head!" + +All that world of northern air could not sweeten her, but Jacques +picked her up without a thought of her offensiveness and ran to his +canoe. The bones resisted him; the claws scratched at him through her +blanket. Jean Boucher lifted a paddle to hit the creature as soon as +she was down. + +"If you strike her, I will kill you!" warned Jacques, and he sprung +into the boat. + +The superstitious Chippewas threw themselves madly into their canoes +to follow. It would go hard, but they would get the windigo and +take the young seignior out of her spell. The Frenchmen, with man's +instinct for the chase, were in full cry with them. + +Jean Boucher laid down his paddle sulkily, and his son did the same. +Jacques took a long pistol from his belt and pointed it at the old +Indian. + +"If you don't paddle for life, I will shoot you." And his eyes were +eyes which Jean respected as he never had respected anything before. +The young man was a beautiful fellow. If he wanted to save a windigo, +why, the saints let him. The priest might say a good word about it +when you came to think, also. + +"Where shall I paddle to?" inquired Jean Boucher, drawing in his +breath. The canoe leaped ahead, grazing hands stretched out to seize +it. + +"To the other side of the river." + +"Down the rapids?" + +"Yes." + +"Go down rough or go down smooth?" + +"Rough--rough--where they cannot catch you." + +The old canoeman snorted. He would like to see any of them catch him. +They were straining after him, and half a dozen canoes shot down that +glassy slide which leads to the rocks. + +It takes three minutes for a skillful paddler to run that dangerous +race of three quarters of a mile. Jean Boucher stood at the prow, and +the waves boiled as high as his waist. Jacques dreaded only that the +windigo might move and destroy the delicate poise of the boat; but she +lay very still. The little craft quivered from rock to rock without +grazing one, rearing itself over a great breaker or sinking under a +crest of foam. Now a billow towered up, and Jean broke it with his +paddle, shouting his joy. Showers fell on the woman coiled in the +bottom of the boat. They were going down very rough indeed. Yells from +the other canoes grew less distinct. Jacques turned his head, keeping +a true balance, and saw that their pursuers were skirting toward the +shore. They must make a long detour to catch him after he reached the +foot of the fall. + +The roar of awful waters met him as he looked ahead. Jean Boucher +drove the paddle down and spoke to his son. The canoe leaned sidewise, +sucked by the first chute, a caldron in the river bed where all Ste. +Marie's current seemed to go down, and whirl, and rise, and froth, and +roar. + +"Ha!" shouted Jean Boucher. His face glistened with beads of water and +the glory of mastering Nature. + +Scarcely were they past the first pit when the canoe plunged on the +verge of another. This sight was a moment of madness. The great chute, +lined with moving water walls and floored with whirling foam, bellowed +as if it were submerging the world. Columns of green water sheeted in +white rose above it and fell forward on the current. As the canoemen +held on with their paddles and shot by through spume and rain, every +soul in the boat exulted except the woman who lay flat on its keel. +The rapids gave a voyager the illusion that they were running uphill +to meet him, that they were breasting and opposing him instead of +carrying him forward. There was scarcely a breath between riding the +edge of the bottomless pit and shooting out on clear water. The rapids +were past, and they paddled for the other shore, a mile away. + +On the west side the green water seemed turning to fire, but as the +sunset went out, shadows sunk on the broad surface. The fresh evening +breath of a primitive world blew across it. Down river the channel +turned, and Jacques could see nothing of the English or of the other +party. His pursuers had decided to land at the settlement. + +It was twilight when Jean Boucher brought the canoe to pine woods +which met them at the edge of the water. The young Repentigny had been +wondering what he should do with his windigo. There was no settlement +on this shore, and had there been one it would offer no hospitality to +such as she was. His canoemen would hardly camp with her, and he had +no provisions. To keep her from being stoned or torn to pieces he had +made an inconsiderate flight. But his perplexity dissolved in a moment +before the sight of Louizon Cadotte coming out of the woods towards +them, having no hunting equipments and looking foolish. + +"Where have you been?" called Jacques. + +"Down this shore," responded Louizon. + +"Did you take a canoe and come out here last night?" + +"Yes, monsieur. I wished to be by myself. The canoe is below. I was +coming home." + +"It is time you were coming home, when all the men in the settlement +are searching for you, and all the women trying to console your mother +and your wife." + +"My wife--she is not then talking with any one on the gallery?" +Louizon's voice betrayed gratified revenge. + +"I do not know. But there is a woman in this canoe who might talk on +the gallery and complain to the priest against a man who has got her +stoned on his account." + +Louizon did not understand this, even when he looked at the heap of +dirty blanket in the canoe. + +"Who is it?" he inquired. + +"The Chippewas call her a windigo. They were all chasing her for +eating you up. But now we can take her back to the priest, and they +will let her alone when they see you. Where is your canoe?" + +"Down here among the bushes," answered Louizon. He went to get it, +ashamed to look the young seignior in the face. He was light-headed +from hunger and exposure, and what followed seemed to him afterwards a +piteous dream. + +"Come back!" called the young seignior, and Louizon turned back. The +two men's eyes met in a solemn look. + +"Jean Boucher says this woman is dead." + +Jean Boucher stood on the bank, holding the canoe with one hand, and +turning her unresisting face with the other. Jacques and Louizon took +off their hats. + +They heard the cry of the whip-poor-will. The river had lost all its +green and was purple, and purple shadows lay on the distant mountains +and opposite ridge. Darkness was mercifully covering this poor +demented Indian woman, overcome by the burdens of her life, aged +without being venerable, perhaps made hideous by want and sorrow. + +When they had looked at her in silence, respecting her because she +could no longer be hurt by anything in the world, Louizon whispered +aside to his seignior,-- + +"What shall we do with her?" + +"Bury her," the old canoeman answered for him. + +One of the party yet thought of taking her back to the priest. But she +did not belong to priests and rites. Jean Boucher said they could dig +in the forest mould with a paddle, and he and his son would make her a +grave. The two Chippewas left the burden to the young men. + +Jacques Repentigny and Louizon Cadotte took up the woman who, perhaps +had never been what they considered woman; who had missed the good, +and got for her portion the ignorance and degradation of the world; +yet who must be something to the Almighty, for he had sent youth and +love to pity and take care of her in her death. They carried her into +the woods between them. + + + + +THE KIDNAPED BRIDE. + +(For this story, little changed from the form in which it was handed +down to him, I am indebted to Dr. J.F. Snyder of Virginia, Illinois, +a descendant of the Saucier family. Even the title remains unchanged, +since he insisted on keeping the one always used by his uncle, Mathieu +Saucier. "Mon Oncle Mathieu," he says, "I knew well, and often sat +with breathless interest listening to his narration of incidents +in the early settlement of the Bottom lands. He was a very quiet, +dignified, and unobtrusive gentleman, and in point of common sense and +intelligence much above the average of the race to which he belonged; +but, like all the rest of the French stock, woefully wanting in energy +and never in a hurry. He was a splendid fiddler, and consequently a +favorite with all, especially the young folks, who easily pressed him +into service on all occasions to play for their numerous dances. He +died at Prairie du Pont, in 1863, at the age of eighty-one years. +His mother, Manette Le Compt, then a young girl, was one of the +bridesmaids of the kidnaped bride.") + + +Yes, the marshes were then in a chain along the foot of the bluffs: +Grand Marais, Marais de Bois Coupé, Marais de l'Ourse, Marais Perdu; +with a rigolé here and there, straight as a canal, to carry the water +into the Mississippi. You do not see Cahokia beautiful as it was when +Monsieur St. Ange de Bellerive was acting as governor of the Illinois +Territory, and waiting at Fort Chartres for the British to take +possession after the conquest. Some people had indeed gone off to +Ste. Grenevieve, and to Pain Court, that you now call Sah Loui', where +Pontiac was afterwards buried under sweetbrier, and is to-day trampled +under pavements. An Indian killed Pontiac between Cahokia and Prairie +du Pont. When he rose from his body and saw it was not a British +knife, but a red man's tomahawk, he was not a chief who would lie +still and bear it in silence. Yes, I have heard that he has been +seen walking through the grapevine tangle, all bleached as if the bad +redness was burned out of him. But the priest will tell you better, my +son. Do not believe such tales. + +Besides, no two stories are alike. Pontiac was killed in his French +officer's uniform, which Monsieur de Montcalm gave him, and half the +people who saw him walking declared he wore that, while the rest swore +he was in buckskins and a blanket. You see how it is. A veritable +ghost would always appear the same, and not keep changing its clothes +like a vain girl. Paul Le Page had a fit one night from seeing the +dead chief with feathers in his hair, standing like stone in the white +French uniform. But do not credit such things. + +It was half a dozen years before Pontiac's death that Celeste Barbeau +was kidnaped on her wedding day. She lived at Prairie du Pont; and +though Prairie du Pont is but a mile and a half south of Cahokia, +the road was not as safe then as it now is. My mother was one of the +bridesmaids; she has told it over to me a score of times. The wedding +was to be in the church; the same church that now stands on the east +side of the square. And on the south side of the square was the old +auberge. Claudis Beauvois said you could get as good wines at that +tavern as you could in New Orleans. But the court-house was not +built until 1795. The people did not need a court-house. They had no +quarrels among themselves which the priest could not settle, and +after the British conquest their only enemies were those Puants, the +Pottawattamie Indians, who took the English side, and paid no regard +when peace was declared, but still tormented the French because there +was no military power to check them. You see the common fields across +the rigolé. The Puants stole stock from the common fields, they +trampled down crops, and kidnaped children and even women, to be +ransomed for so many horses each. The French tried to be friendly, and +with presents and good words to induce the Puants to leave. But those +Puants--Oh, they were British Indians: nothing but whipping would take +the impudence out of them. + +Celeste Barbeau's father and mother lived at Prairie du Pont, and +Alexis Barbeau was the richest man in this part of the American +Bottom. When Alexis Barbeau was down on his knees at mass, people used +to say he counted his money instead of his beads; it was at least as +dear to him as religion. And when he came au Caho',[1] he hadn't a +word for a poor man. At Prairie du Pont he had built himself a fine +brick house; the bricks were brought from Philadelphia by way of New +Orleans. You have yourself seen it many a time, and the crack down +the side made by the great earthquake of 1811. There he lived like an +estated gentleman, for Prairie du Pont was then nothing but a cluster +of tenants around his feet. It was after his death that the village +grew. Celeste did not stay at Prairie du Pont; she was always au +Caho', with her grandmother and grandfather, the old Barbeaus. + +Along the south bank of this rigolé which bounds the north end of +Caho' were all the pleasantest houses then: rez-de-chaussée, of +course, but large; with dormer windows in the roofs; and high of +foundation, having flights of steps going up to the galleries. For +though the Mississippi was a mile away in those days, and had not yet +eaten in to our very sides, it often came visiting. I have seen this +grassy-bottomed rigolé many a time swimming with fifteen feet of +water, and sending ripples to the gallery steps. Between the marais +and the Mississippi, the spring rains were a perpetual danger. There +are men who want the marshes all filled up. They say it will add to us +on one side what the great river is taking from us on the other; but +myself--I would never throw in a shovelful: God made this world; it is +good enough; and when the water rises we can take to boats. + +The Le Compts lived in this very house, and the old Barbeaus lived +next, on the corner, where this rigolé road crosses the street running +north and south. Every house along the rigolé was set in spacious +grounds, with shade trees and gardens, and the sloping lawns blazed +with flowers. My mother said it was much prettier than Kaskaskia; not +crowded with traffic; not overrun with foreigners. Everybody seemed +to be making a fête, to be visiting or receiving visits. At sunset the +fiddle and the banjo began their melody. The young girls would gather +at Barbeau's or Le Compt's or Pensonneau's--at any one of a dozen +places, and the young men would follow. It was no trouble to have +a dance every evening, and on feast days and great days there were +balls, of course. The violin ran in my family. Celeste Barbeau would +call across the hedge to my mother,-- + +"Manette, will Monsieur Le Compt play for us again to-night?" + +And Monsieur Le Compt or anybody who could handle a bow would play for +her. Celeste was the life of the place: she sang like a lark, she was +like thistledown in the dance, she talked well, and was so handsome +that a stranger from New Orleans stopped in the street to gaze after +her. At the auberge he said he was going au Pay,[2] but after he saw +Celeste Barbeau he stayed in Caho'. I have heard my mother tell--who +often saw it combed out--that Celeste's long black hair hung below her +knees, though it was so curly that half its length was taken up by the +natural crêping of the locks. + +The old French women, especially about Pain Court and Caho', loved +to go into their children's bedrooms and sit on the side of the bed, +telling stories half the night. It was part of the general good time. +And thus they often found out what the girls were thinking about; for +women of experience need only a hint. It is true old Madame Barbeau +had never been even au Kaw;[3] but one may live and grow wise without +crossing the rigolés north and south, or the bluffs and river east and +west. + +"Gra'mère, Manette is sleepy," Celeste would say, when my mother was +with her. + +"Well, I will go to my bed," the grandmother would promise. But still +she sat and joined in the chatter. Sometimes the girls would doze, and +wake in the middle of a long tale. But Madame Barbeau heard more than +she told, for she said to her husband:-- + +"It may come to pass that the widow Chartrant's Gabriel will be making +proposals to Alexis for little Celeste." + +"Poor lad," said the grandfather, "he has nothing to back his +proposals with. It will do him no good." + +And so it proved. Gabriel Chartrant was the leader of the young men +as Celeste was of the girls. But he only inherited the cedar house +his mother lived in. Those cedar houses were built in Caho' without +an ounce of iron; each cedar shingle was held to its place with cedar +pegs, and the boards of the floors fastened down in the same manner. +They had their galleries, too, all tightly pegged to place. Gabriel +was obliged to work, but he was so big he did not mind that. He was +made very straight, with a high-lifted head and a full chest. He could +throw any man in a wrestling match. And he was always first with +a kindness, and would nurse the sick, and he was not afraid of +contagious diseases or of anything. Gabriel could match Celeste as a +dancer, but it was not likely Alexis Barbeau would find him a match +in any other particular. And it grew more unlikely, every day that the +man from New Orleans spent in Caho'. + +The stranger said his name was Claudis Beauvois, and he was interested +in great mercantile houses both in Philadelphia and New Orleans, +and had come up the river to see the country. He was about fifty, a +handsome, easy man, with plenty of fine clothes and money, and before +he had been at the tavern a fortnight the hospitable people were +inviting him everywhere, and he danced with the youngest of them all. +There was about him what the city alone gives a man, and the mothers, +when they saw his jewels, considered that there was only one drawback +to marrying their daughters to Claudis Beauvois: his bride must travel +far from Caho'. + +But it was plain whose daughter he had fixed his mind upon, and Alexis +Barbeau would not make any difficulty about parting with Celeste. +She had lived away from him so much since her childhood that he would +scarcely miss her; and it was better to have a daughter well settled +in New Orleans than hampered by a poor match in her native village. +And this was what Gabriel Chartrant was told when he made haste to +propose for Celeste about the same time. + +"I have already accepted for my daughter much more gratifying offers +than any you can make. The banns will be put up next Sunday, and in +three weeks she will be Madame Beauvois." + +When Celeste heard this she was beside herself. She used to tell my +mother that Monsieur Beauvois walked as if his natural gait was on all +fours, and he still took to it when he was not watched. His shoulders +were bent forward, his hands were in his pockets, and he studied the +ground. She could not endure him. But the customs were very strict in +the matter of marriage. No French girl in those days could be so bold +as to reject the husband her father picked, and own that she preferred +some one else. Celeste was taken home to get ready for her wedding. +She hung on my mother's neck when choosing her for a bridesmaid, and +neither of the girls could comfort the other. Madame Barbeau was a fat +woman who loved ease, and never interfered with Alexis. She would +be disturbed enough by settling her daughter without meddling about +bridegrooms. The grandfather and grandmother were sorry for Gabriel +Chartrant, and tearful over Celeste; still, when you are forming +an alliance for your child, it is very imprudent to disregard great +wealth and by preference give her to poverty. Their son Alexis +convinced them of this; and he had always prospered. + +So the banns were put up in church for three weeks, and all Cahokia +was invited to the grand wedding. Alexis Barbeau regretted there was +not time to send to New Orleans for much that he wanted to fit his +daughter out and provide for his guests. + +"If he had sent there a month ago for some certainties about the +bridegroom it might be better," said Paul Le Page. "I have a cousin +in New Orleans who could have told us if he really is the great man he +pretends to be." But the women said it was plain Paul Le Page was one +of those who had wanted Celeste himself. The suspicious nature is a +poison. + +Gabriel Chartrant did not say anything for a week, but went along the +streets haggard, though with his head up, and worked as if he meant +to kill himself. The second week he spent his nights forming desperate +plans. The young men followed him as they always did, and they held +their meeting down the rigolé, clustered together on the bank. They +could hear the frogs croak in the marais; it was dry, and the water +was getting low. Gabriel used to say he never heard a frog croak +afterwards without a sinking of the heart. It was the voice of misery. +But Gabriel had strong partisans in this council. Le Maudit Pensonneau +offered with his own hand to kill that interloping stranger whom he +called the old devil, and argued the matter vehemently when his offer +was declined. Le Maudit was a wild lad, so nervous that he stopped +at nothing in his riding or his frolics; and so got the name of the +Bewitched.[4] + +But the third week, Gabriel said he had decided on a plan which might +break off this detestable marriage if the others would help him. They +all declared they would do anything for him, and he then told them he +had privately sent word about it by Manette to Celeste; and Celeste +was willing to have it or any plan attempted which would prevent the +wedding. + +"We will dress ourselves as Puants," said Gabriel, "and make a rush on +the wedding party on the way to church, and carry off the bride." + +Le Maudit Pensonneau sprung up and danced with joy when he heard that. +Nothing would please him better than to dress as a Puant and carry off +a bride. The Cahokians were so used to being raided by the Puants that +they would readily believe such an attack had been made. That very +week the Puants had galloped at midnight, whooping through the town, +and swept off from the common fields a flock of Le Page's goats and +two of Larue's cattle. One might expect they would hear of such a +wedding as Celeste Barbeau's. Indeed, the people were so tired of the +Puants that they had sent urgently to St. Ange de Bellerive asking +that soldiers be marched from Fort Chartres to give them military +protection. + +It would be easy enough for the young men to make themselves look like +Indians. What one lacked another could supply. + +"But two of us cannot take any part in the raid," said Gabriel. "Two +must be ready at the river with a boat. And they must take Celeste as +fast as they can row up the river to Pain Court to my aunt Choutou. +My aunt Choutou will keep her safely until I can make some terms with +Alexis Barbeau. Maybe he will give me his daughter, if I rescue her +from the Puants. And if worst comes to worst, there is the missionary +priest at Pain Court; he may be persuaded to marry us. But who is +willing to be at the river?" + +Paul and Jacques Le Page said they would undertake the boat. They were +steady and trusty fellows and good river men; not so keen at riding +and hunting as the others, but in better favor with the priest on +account of their behavior. + +So the scheme was very well laid out, and the wedding day came, +clear and bright, as promising as any bride's day that ever was seen. +Claudis Beauvois and a few of his friends galloped off to Prairie du +Pont to bring the bride to church. The road from Caho' to Prairie du +Pont was packed on both sides with dense thickets of black oak, honey +locust, and red haws. Here and there a habitant had cut out a patch +and built his cabin; or a path broken by hunters trailed towards the +Mississippi. You ride the same track to-day, my child, only it is not +as shaggy and savage as the course then lay. + +And as soon as Claudis Beauvois was out of sight, Gabriel Chartrant +followed with his dozen French Puants, in feathers and buckskin, all +smeared with red and yellow ochre, well mounted and well armed. They +rode along until they reached the last path which turns off to the +river. At the end of that path, a mile away through the underbrush, +Paul and Jacques Le Page were stationed with a boat. The young men +with Gabriel dismounted and led their horses into the thicket to wait +for his signal. + +The birds had begun to sing just after three o'clock that clear +morning, for Celeste lying awake heard them; and they were keeping +it up in the bushes. Gabriel leaned his feathered head over the road, +listening for hoof-falls and watching for the first puff of dust in +the direction of Prairie du Pont. The road was not as well trodden +as it is now, and a little ridge of weeds grew along the centre, high +enough to rake the stirrup of a horseman. + +But in the distance, instead of the pat-a-pat of iron hoofs began a +sudden uproar of cries and wild whoops. Then a cloud of dust came in +earnest. Claudis Beauvois alone, without any hat, wild with fright, +was galloping towards Cahokia. Gabriel understood that something had +happened which ruined his own plan. He and his men sprung on their +horses and headed off the fugitive. The bridegroom who had passed that +way so lately with smiles, yelled and tried to wheel his horse into +the brush; but Gabriel caught his bridle and demanded to know what was +the matter. As soon as he heard the French tongue spoken he begged for +his life, and to know what more they required of him, since the rest +of their band had already taken his bride. They made him tell them the +facts. The real Puants had attacked the wedding procession before it +was out of sight of Prairie du Pont, and had scattered it and carried +off Celeste. He did not know what had become of anybody except +himself, after she was taken. + +Gabriel gave his horse a cut which was like a kick to its rider. +He shot ahead, glad to pass what he had taken for a second body of +Indians, and Le Maudit Pensonneau hooted after him. + +"The miserable coward. I wish I had taken his scalp. He makes me feel +a very good Puant indeed." + +"Who cares what becomes of him?" said Gabriel. "It is Celeste that +we want. The real Puants have got ahead of us and kidnaped the bride. +Will any of you go with me?" + +The poor fellow was white as ashes. Not a man needed to ask him where +he was going, but they all answered in a breath and dashed after him. +They broke directly through the thicket on the opposite side of the +road, and came out into the tall prairie grass. They knew every path, +marais, and rigolé for miles around, and took their course eastward, +correctly judging that the Indians would follow the line of the bluffs +and go north. Splash went their horses among the reeds of sloughs and +across sluggish creeks, and by this short cut they soon came on the +fresh trail. + +At Falling Spring they made a halt to rest the horses a few minutes, +and wash the red and yellow paint off their hands and faces; then +galloped on along the rocky bluffs up the Bottom lands. But after a +few miles they saw they had lost the trail. Closely scouting in every +direction, they had to go back to Falling Spring, and there at last +they found that the Indians had left the Bottom and by a winding path +among rocks ascended to the uplands. Much time was lost. They had +heard, while they galloped, the church bell tolling alarm in Cahokia, +and they knew how the excitable inhabitants were running together +at Beauvois' story, the women weeping and the men arming themselves, +calling a council, and loading with contempt a runaway bridegroom. + +Gabriel and his men, with their faces set north, hardly glanced +aside to see the river shining along its distant bed. But one of them +thought of saying,-- + +"Paul and Jacques will have a long wait with the boat." + +The sun passed over their heads, and sunk hour by hour, and set. The +western sky was red; and night began to close in, and still they urged +their tired horses on. There would be a moon a little past its full, +and they counted on its light when it should rise. + +The trail of the Puants descended to the Bottom again at the head of +the Grand Marais. There was heavy timber here. The night shadow of +trees and rocks covered them, and they began to move more cautiously, +for all signs pointed to a camp. And sure enough, when they had passed +an abutment of the ridge, far off through the woods they saw a fire. + +My son (mon Oncle Mathieu would say at this point of the story), will +you do me the favor to bring me a coal for my pipe? + +(The coal being brought in haste, he put it into the bowl with his +finger and thumb, and seemed to doze while he drew at the stem. The +smoke puffed deliberately from his lips, while all the time that +mysterious fire was burning in the woods for my impatience to dance +upon with hot feet, above the Grand Marais!) + +Oh, yes, Gabriel and his men were getting very close to the Puants. +They dismounted, and tied their horses in a crabapple thicket and +crept forward on foot. He halted them, and crawled alone toward the +light to reconnoitre, careful not to crack a twig or make the least +noise. The nearer he crawled the more his throat seemed to choke up +and his ears to fill with buzzing sounds. The camp fire showed him +Celeste tied to a tree. She looked pale and dejected, and her head +rested against the tree stem, but her eyes kept roving the darkness in +every direction as if she expected rescue. Her bridal finery had been +torn by the bushes and her hair was loose, but Gabriel had never seen +Celeste when she looked so beautiful. + +Thirteen big Puants were sitting around the camp fire eating their +supper of half-raw meat. Their horses were hobbled a little beyond, +munching such picking as could be found among the fern. Gabriel went +back as still as a snake and whispered his orders to his men. + +Every Frenchman must pick the Puant directly in front of him, and be +sure to hit that Puant. If the attack was half-hearted and the Indians +gained time to rally, Celeste would suffer the consequences; they +could kill her or escape with her. If you wish to gain an Indian's +respect you must make a neat job of shooting him down. He never +forgives a bungler. + +"And then," said Gabriel, "we will rush in with our knives and +hatchets. It must be all done in a moment." + +The men reprimed their flintlocks, and crawled forward abreast. +Gabriel was at the extreme right. When they were near enough he gave +his signal, the nasal singing of the rattlesnake. The guns cracked all +together, and every Cahokian sprung up to finish the work with knife +and hatchet. Nine of the Puants fell dead, and the rest were gone +before the smoke cleared. They left their meat, their horses, and +arms. They were off like deer, straight through the woods to any place +of safety. Every marksman had taken the Indian directly in front of +him, but as they were abreast and the Puants in a circle, those +four on the opposite side of the fire had been sheltered. Le Maudit +Pensonneau scalped the red heads by the fire and hung the scalps in +his belt. Our French people took up too easily, indeed, with savage +ways; but Le Maudit Pensonneau was always full of his pranks. + +Oh, yes, Gabriel himself untied Celeste. She was wild with joy, and +cried on Gabriel's shoulder; and all the young men who had taken their +first communion with Gabriel and had played with this dear girl when +she was a child, felt the tears come into their own eyes. All but Le +Maudit Pensonneau. He was busy rounding up the horses. + +"Here's my uncle Larue's filly that was taken two weeks ago," said Le +Maudit, calling from the hobbling place. "And here are the blacks that +Ferland lost, and Pierre's pony--half these horses are Caho' horses." + +He tied them together so that they could be driven two or three +abreast ahead of the party, and then he gathered up all the guns left +by the Indians. + +Gabriel now called a council, for it had to be decided directly what +they should do next. Pain Court was seven miles in a straight line +from the spot where they stood; while Cahokia was ten miles to the +southwest. + +"Would it not be best to go at once to Pain Court?" said Gabriel. +"Celeste, after this frightful day, needs food and sleep as soon as +she can get them, and my aunt Choutou is ready for her. And boats can +always be found opposite Pain Court." + +All the young men were ready to go to Pain Court. They really thought, +even after all that had happened, that it would be wisest to deal with +Alexis Barbeau at a distance. But Celeste herself decided the matter. +Gabriel had not let go of her. He kept his hand on her as if afraid +she might be kidnaped again. + +"We will go home to my grandfather and grandmother au Caho'," said +Celeste. "I will not go anywhere else." + +"But you forget that Beauvois is au Caho'?" said one of the young men. + +"Oh, I never can forget anything connected with this day," said +Celeste, and the tears ran down her face. "I never can forget how +willingly I let those Puants take me, and I laughed as one of them +flung me on the horse behind him. We were nearly to the bluffs before +I spoke. He did not say anything, and the others all had eyes which +made me shudder. I pressed my hands on his buckskin sides and said +to him, 'Gabriel.' And he turned and looked at me. I never had seen a +feature of his frightful face before. And then I understood that the +real Puants had me. Do you think I will ever marry anybody but the +man who took me away from them? No. If worst comes to worst, I will +go before the high altar and the image of the Holy Virgin, and make a +public vow never to marry anybody else." + +The young men flung up their arms in the air and raised a hurrah. Hats +they had none to swing. Their cheeks were burnt by the afternoon sun. +They were hungry and thirsty, and so tired that any one of them could +have flung himself on the old leaves and slept as soon as he stretched +himself. But it put new heart in them to see how determined she was. + +So the horses were brought up, and the captured guns were packed upon +some of the recovered ponies. There were some new blankets strapped on +the backs of these Indian horses, and Gabriel took one of the blankets +and secured it as a pillion behind his own saddle for Celeste to ride +upon. As they rode out of the forest shadow they could see the moon +just coming up over the hills beyond the great Cahokian mound. + +It was midnight when the party trampled across the rigolé bridge into +Cahokia streets. The people were sleeping with one eye open. All +day, stragglers from the wedding procession had been coming in, and a +company was organized for defense and pursuit. They had heard that the +whole Pottawattamie nation had risen. And since Celeste Barbeau was +kidnaped, anything might be expected. Gabriel and his men were missed +early, but the excitement was so great that their unexplained absence +was added without question to the general calamity. Candles showed +at once, and men with gun barrels shining in the moonlight gathered +quickly from all directions. + +"Friends, friends!" Celeste called out; for the young men in buckskin, +with their booty of driven horses, were enough like Puants to be in +danger of a volley. "It is Celeste. Gabriel Chartrant and his men have +killed the Indians and brought me back." + +"It is Celeste Barbeau! Gabriel Chartrant and his men have killed the +Indians and brought her back!" the word was passed on. + +Her grandfather hung to her hand on one side of the horse, and her +grandmother embraced her knees on the other. The old father was in his +red nightcap and the old mother had pulled slippers on her bare feet. +But without a thought of their appearance they wept aloud and fell on +the neighbors' necks, and the neighbors fell upon each others' necks. +Some kneeled down in the dust and returned thanks to the saints they +had invoked. The auberge keeper and three old men who smoked their +pipes steadily on his gallery every day took hold of hands and danced +in a circle. Children who had waked to shriek with fear galloped +the streets to proclaim at every window, "Celeste Barbeau is brought +back!" The whole town was in a delirium of joy. Manette Le Compt, who +had been brought home with the terrified bridesmaids and laughed in +her sleeve all day because she thought Gabriel and his men were the +Puants, leaned against a wall and turned sick. I have heard her say +she never was so confused in her life as when she saw the driven +horses, and the firearms, and those coarse-haired scalps hanging to Le +Maudit Pensonneau's belt. The moon showed them all distinctly. Manette +had thought it laughable when she heard that Alexis Barbeau was shut +up in his brick house at Prairie du Pont, with all the men and guns +he could muster to protect his property; but now she wept indignantly +about it. + +The priest had been the first man in the street, having lain down in +all his clothes except his cassock, and he heartily gave Celeste +and the young men his blessing, and counseled everybody to go to bed +again. But Celeste reminded them that she was hungry, and as for the +rescuers, they had ridden hard all day without a mouthful to eat. So +the whole town made a feast, everybody bringing the best he had to +Barbeau's house. They spread the table and crowded around, leaning +over each, other's shoulders to take up bits in their hands and eat +with and talk to the young people. Gabriel's mother sat beside him +with her arm around him, and opposite was Celeste with her grandfather +and grandmother, and all the party were ranged around. The feathers +had been blown out of their hair by that long chase, but their +buckskins were soiled, and the hastily washed colors yet smeared their +ears and necks. Yet this supper was quite like a bridal feast. Ah, +my child, we never know it when we are standing in the end of the +rainbow. Gabriel and Celeste might live a hundred years, but they +could never be quite as happy again. + +Paul and Jacques Le Page sat down with the other young men, and the +noise of tongues in Barbeau's house could be heard out by the rigolé. +It was like the swarming of wild bees. Paul and Jacques had waited +with the boat until nightfall. They heard the firing when the Puants +took Celeste, and watched hour after hour for some one to appear from +the path; but at last concluding that Gabriel had been obliged to +change his plan, they rowed back to Caho'. + +Claudis Beauvois was the only person who did not sit up talking until +dawn. And nobody thought about him until noon the next day, when +Captain Jean Saucier with a company of fusileers rode into the village +from Fort Chartres. + +That was the first time my mother ever saw Captain Saucier. Your uncle +François in Kaskaskia, he was also afterward Captain Saucier. I was +not born until they had been married fifteen years. I was the last +of their children. So Celeste Barbeau was kidnaped the day before my +mother met my father. + +Glad as the Cahokians were to see them, the troops were no longer +needed, for the Puants had gone. They were frightened out of the +country. Oh, yes, all those Indians wanted was a good whipping, and +they got it. Alexis Barbeau had come along with the soldiers from +Prairie du Pont, and he was not the only man who had made use of +military escort. Basil Le Page had come up from New Orleans in the +last fleet of pirogues to Kaskaskia. There he heard so much about the +Puants that he bought a swift horse and armed himself for the ride +northward, and was glad when he reached Fort Chartres to ride into +Cahokia with Captain Saucier. + +You might say Basil Le Page came in at one end of Cahokia and Claudis +Beauvois went out at the other. For they knew one another directly, +and it was noised in a minute that Basil said to his cousins Paul and +Jacques:-- + +"What is that notorious swindler and gambler doing here? He left New +Orleans suddenly, or he would be in prison now, and you will see if he +stops here long after recognizing me." + +Claudis Beauvois did not turn around in the street to look at any +woman, rich or poor, when he left Cahokia, though how he left was not +certainly known. Alexis Barbeau and his other associates knew better +how their pockets were left. + +Oh, yes, Alexis Barbeau was very willing for Celeste to marry Gabriel +after that. He provided for them handsomely, and gave presents to each +of the young men who had helped to take his daughter from the Puants; +and he was so ashamed of the son-in-law he had wanted, that he never +could endure to hear the man's name mentioned afterward. Alexis +and the tavern-keeper used--when they were taking a social cup +together--to hug each other without a word. The fine guest who had +lived so long at the auberge and drank so much good wine, which was as +fine as any in New Orleans, without expense, was as sore a memory +to the poor landlord as to the rich landowner. But Celeste and +Gabriel--my mother said when they were married the dancing and +fiddling and feasting were kept up an entire week in Caho'. + + +[Footnote 1: To Cahokia.] + +[Footnote 2: To Peoria.] + +[Footnote 3: To Kaskaskia.] + +[Footnote 4: Cahokian softening of cursed.] + + + + +PONTIAC'S LOOKOUT. + + +Jenieve Lalotte came out of the back door of her little house on +Mackinac beach. The front door did not open upon either street of the +village; and other domiciles were scattered with it along the strand, +each little homestead having a front inclosure palisaded with oaken +posts. Wooded heights sent a growth of bushes and young trees down to +the pebble rim of the lake. + +It had been raining, and the island was fresh as if new made. Boats +and bateaux, drawn up in a great semicircle about the crescent bay, +had also been washed; but they kept the marks of their long voyages +to the Illinois Territory, or the Lake Superior region, or Canada. The +very last of the winterers were in with their bales of furs, and some +of these men were now roaring along the upper street in new clothes, +exhilarated by spending on good cheer in one month the money it +took them eleven months to earn. While in "hyvernements," or winter +quarters, and on the long forest marches, the allowance of food per +day, for a winterer, was one quart of corn and two ounces of tallow. +On this fare the hardiest voyageurs ever known threaded a pathless +continent and made a great traffic possible. But when they returned to +the front of the world,--that distributing point in the straits,--they +were fiercely importunate for what they considered the best the world +afforded. + +A segment of rainbow showed over one end of Round Island. The sky was +dull rose, and a ship on the eastern horizon turned to a ship of fire, +clean-cut and poised, a glistening object on a black bar of water. The +lake was still, with blackness in its depths. The American flag on the +fort rippled, a thing of living light, the stripes transparent. High +pink clouds were riding down from the north, their flush dying as they +piled aloft. There were shadings of peacock colors in the shoal water. +Jenieve enjoyed this sunset beauty of the island, as she ran over the +rolling pebbles, carrying some leather shoes by their leather strings. +Her face was eager. She lifted the shoes to show them to three little +boys playing on the edge of the lake. + +"Come here. See what I have for you." + +"What is it?" inquired the eldest, gazing betwixt the hairs scattered +on his face; he stood with his back to the wind. His bare shins +reddened in the wash of the lake, standing beyond its rim of shining +gravel. + +"Shoes," answered Jenieve, in a note triumphant over fate. + +"What's shoes?" asked the smallest half-breed, tucking up his smock +around his middle. + +"They are things to wear on your feet," explained Jenieve; and her +red-skinned half-brothers heard her with incredulity. She had told +their mother, in their presence, that she intended to buy the children +some shoes when she got pay for her spinning; and they thought it +meant fashions from the Fur Company's store to wear to mass, but never +suspected she had set her mind on dark-looking clamps for the feet. + +"You must try them on," said Jenieve, and they all stepped +experimentally from the water, reluctant to submit. But Jenieve was +mistress in the house. There is no appeal from a sister who is a +father to you, and even a substitute for your living mother. + +"You sit down first, François, and wipe your feet with this cloth." + +The absurdity of wiping his feet before he turned in for the night +tickled François, though he was of a strongly aboriginal cast, and he +let himself grin. Jenieve helped him struggle to encompass his lithe +feet with the clumsy brogans. + +"You boys are living like Indians." + +"We are Indians," asserted François. + +"But you are French, too. You are my brothers. I want you to go to +mass looking as well as anybody." + +Hitherto their object in life had been to escape mass. They objected +to increasing their chances of church-going. Moccasins were the +natural wear of human beings, and nobody but women needed even +moccasins until cold weather. The proud look of an Iroquois taking +spoils disappeared from the face of the youngest, giving way to uneasy +anguish. The three boys sat down to tug, Jenieve going encouragingly +from one to another. François lay on his back and pushed his heels +skyward. Contempt and rebellion grew also in the faces of Gabriel +and Toussaint. They were the true children of François Iroquois, her +mother's second husband, who had been wont to lounge about Mackinac +village in dirty buckskins and a calico shirt having one red and one +blue sleeve. He had also bought a tall silk hat at the Fur Company's +store, and he wore the hat under his blanket when it rained. If +tobacco failed him, he scraped and dried willow peelings, and called +them kinnickinnick. This worthy relation had worked no increase in +Jenieve's home except an increase of children. He frequently yelled +around the crescent bay, brandishing his silk hat in the exaltation of +rum. And when he finally fell off the wharf into deep water, and was +picked out to make another mound in the Indian burying-ground, Jenieve +was so fiercely elated that she was afraid to confess it to the +priest. Strange matches were made on the frontier, and Indian wives +were commoner than any other kind; but through the whole mortifying +existence of this Indian husband Jenieve avoided the sight of him, and +called her mother steadily Mama Lalotte. The girl had remained with +her grandmother, while François Iroquois carried off his wife to the +Indian village on a western height of the island. Her grandmother had +died, and Jenieve continued to keep house on the beach, having always +with her one or more of the half-breed babies, until the plunge +of François Iroquois allowed her to bring them all home with their +mother. There was but one farm on the island, and Jenieve had all the +spinning which the sheep afforded. She was the finest spinner in that +region. Her grandmother had taught her to spin with a little wheel, +as they still do about Quebec. Her pay was small. There was not much +money then in the country, but bills of credit on the Fur Company's +store were the same as cash, and she managed to feed her mother and +the Indian's family. Fish were to be had for the catching, and +she could get corn-meal and vegetables for her soup pot in partial +exchange for her labor. The luxuries of life on the island were air +and water, and the glories of evening and morning. People who could +buy them got such gorgeous clothes as were brought by the Company. +But usually Jenieve felt happy enough when she put on her best red +homespun bodice and petticoat for mass or to go to dances. She did +wish for shoes. The ladies at the fort had shoes, with heels which +clicked when they danced. Jenieve could dance better, but she always +felt their eyes on her moccasins, and came to regard shoes as the +chief article of one's attire. + +Though the joy of shoeing her brothers was not to be put off, she +had not intended to let them keep on these precious brogans of +civilization while they played beside the water. But she suddenly saw +Mama Lalotte walking along the street near the lake with old Michel +Pensonneau. Beyond these moving figures were many others, of engagés +and Indians, swarming in front of the Fur Company's great warehouse. +Some were talking and laughing; others were in a line, bearing bales +of furs from bateaux just arrived at the log-and-stone wharf stretched +from the centre of the bay. But all of them, and curious women peeping +from their houses on the beach, particularly Jean Bati' McClure's +wife, could see that Michel Pensonneau was walking with Mama Lalotte. + +This sight struck cold down Jenieve's spine. Mama Lalotte was really +the heaviest charge she had. Not twenty minutes before had that +flighty creature been set to watch the supper pot, and here she +was, mincing along, and fixing her pale blue laughing eyes on Michel +Pensonneau, and bobbing her curly flaxen head at every word he spoke. +A daughter who has a marrying mother on her hands may become morbidly +anxious; Jenieve felt she should have no peace of mind during the +month the coureurs-de-bois remained on the island. Whether they +arrived early or late, they had soon to be off to the winter +hunting-grounds; yet here was an emergency. + +"Mama Lalotte!" called Jenieve. Her strong young fingers beckoned with +authority. "Come here to me. I want you." + +The giddy parent, startled and conscious, turned a conciliating smile +that way. "Yes, Jenieve," she answered obediently, "I come." But she +continued to pace by the side of Michel Pensonneau. + +Jenieve desired to grasp her by the shoulder and walk her into the +house; but when the world, especially Jean Bati' McClure's wife, is +watching to see how you manage an unruly mother, it is necessary to +use some adroitness. + +"Will you please come here, dear Mama Lalotte? Toussaint wants you." + +"No, I don't!" shouted Toussaint. "It is Michel Pensonneau I want, to +make me some boats." + +The girl did not hesitate. She intercepted the couple, and took her +mother's arm in hers. The desperation of her act appeared to her while +she was walking Mama Lalotte home; still, if nothing but force will +restrain a parent, you must use force. + +Michel Pensonneau stood squarely in his moccasins, turning redder +and redder at the laugh of his cronies before the warehouse. He was +dressed in new buckskins, and their tawny brightness made his florid +cheeks more evident. Michel Pensonneau had been brought up by the +Cadottes of Sault Ste. Marie, and he had rich relations at Cahokia, +in the Illinois Territory. If he was not as good as the family of +François Iroquois, he wanted to know the reason why. It is true, he +was past forty and a bachelor. To be a bachelor, in that region, where +Indian wives were so plenty and so easily got rid of, might bring +some reproach on a man. Michel had begun to see that it did. He was +an easy, gormandizing, good fellow, shapelessly fat, and he never had +stirred himself during his month of freedom to do any courting. But +Frenchmen of his class considered fifty the limit of an active life. +It behooved him now to begin looking around; to prepare a fireside for +himself. Michel was a good clerk to his employers. Cumbrous though his +body might be, when he was in the woods he never shirked any hardship +to secure a specially fine bale of furs. + +Mama Lalotte, propelled against her will, sat down, trembling, in the +house. Jenieve, trembling also, took the wooden bowls and spoons from +a shelf and ladled out soup for the evening meal. Mama Lalotte was +always willing to have the work done without trouble to herself, and +she sat on a three-legged stool, like a guest. The supper pot boiled +in the centre of the house, hanging on the crane which was fastened to +a beam overhead. Smoke from the clear fire passed that richly darkened +transverse of timber as it ascended, and escaped through a hole in +the bark roof. The Fur Company had a great building with chimneys; +but poor folks were glad to have a cedar hut of one room, covered with +bark all around and on top. A fire-pit, or earthen hearth, was left +in the centre, and the nearer the floor could be brought to this hole, +without danger, the better the house was. On winter nights, fat French +and half-breed children sat with heels to this sunken altar, and heard +tales of massacre or privation which made the family bunks along the +wall seem couches of luxury. It was the aboriginal hut patterned after +his Indian brother's by the Frenchman; and the succession of British +and American powers had not yet improved it. To Jenieve herself, the +crisis before her, so insignificant against the background of that +historic island, was more important than massacre or conquest. + +"Mama,"--she spoke tremulously,--"I was obliged to bring you in. It is +not proper to be seen on the street with an engagé". The town is now +full of these bush-lopers." + +"Bush-lopers, mademoiselle!" The little flaxen-haired woman had a +shrill voice. "What was your own father?" + +"He was a clerk, madame," maintained the girl's softer treble, "and +always kept good credit for his family at the Company's store." + +"I see no difference. They are all the same." + +"François Iroquois was not the same." As the girl said this she felt a +powder-like flash from her own eyes. + +Mama Lalotte was herself a little ashamed of the François Iroquois +alliance, but she answered, "He let me walk outside the house, at +least. You allow me no amusement at all. I cannot even talk over the +fence to Jean Bati' McClure's wife." + +"Mama, you do not understand the danger of all these things, and I do. +Jean Bati' McClure's wife will be certain to get you into trouble. +She is not a proper woman for you to associate with. Her mind runs on +nothing but match-making." + +"Speak to her, then, for yourself. I wish you would get married." + +"I never shall," declared Jenieve. "I have seen the folly of it." + +"You never have been young," complained Mama Lalotte. "You don't know +how a young person feels. + +"I let you go to the dances," argued Jenieve. "You have as good a +time as any woman on the island. But old Michel Pensonneau," she added +sternly, "is not settling down to smoke his pipe for the remainder of +his life on this doorstep." + +"Monsieur Pensonneau is not old." + +"Do you take up for him, Mama Lalotte, in spite of me?" In the girl's +rich brunette face the scarlet of the cheeks deepened. "Am I not more +to you than Michel Pensonneau or any other engagé? He is old; he is +past forty. Would I call him old if he were no more than twenty?" + +"Every one cannot be only twenty and a young agent," retorted her +elder; and Jenieve's ears and throat reddened, also. + +"Have I not done my best for you and the boys? Do you think it does +not hurt me to be severe with you?" + +Mama Lalotte flounced around on her stool, but made no reply. She saw +peeping and smiling at the edge of the door a neighbor's face, that +encouraged her insubordinations. Its broad, good-natured upper +lip thinly veiled with hairs, its fleshy eyelids and thick brows, +expressed a strength which she had not, yet would gladly imitate. + +"Jenieve Lalotte," spoke the neighbor, "before you finish whipping +your mother you had better run and whip the boys. They are throwing +their shoes in the lake." + +"Their shoes!" Jenieve cried, and she scarcely looked at Jean Bati' +McClure's wife, but darted outdoors along the beach. + +"Oh, children, have you lost your shoes?" + +"No," answered Toussaint, looking up with a countenance full of +enjoyment. + +"Where are they?" + +"In the lake." + +"You didn't throw your new shoes in the lake?" + +"We took them for boats," said Gabriel freely. "But they are not even +fit for boats." + +"I threw mine as far as I could," observed François. "You can't make +anything float in them." + +She could see one of them stranded on the lake bottom, loaded with +stones, its strings playing back and forth in the clear water. The +others were gone out to the straits. Jenieve remembered all her toil +for them, and her denial of her own wants that she might give to these +half-savage boys, who considered nothing lost that they threw into the +lake. + +She turned around to run to the house. But there stood Jean Bati' +McClure's wife, talking through the door, and encouraging her mother +to walk with coureurs-de-bois. The girl's heart broke. She took to the +bushes to hide her weeping, and ran through them towards the path she +had followed so many times when her only living kindred were at the +Indian village. The pine woods received her into their ascending +heights, and she mounted towards sunset. + +Panting from her long walk, Jenieve came out of the woods upon a +grassy open cliff, called by the islanders Pontiac's Lookout, because +the great war chief used to stand on that spot, forty years before, +and gaze southward, as if he never could give up his hope of the union +of his people. Jenieve knew the story. She had built playhouses +here, when a child, without being afraid of the old chief's lingering +influence; for she seemed to understand his trouble, and this night +she was more in sympathy with Pontiac than ever before in her life. +She sat down on the grass, wiping the tears from her hot cheeks, +her dark eyes brooding on the lovely straits. There might be more +beautiful sights in the world, but Jenieve doubted it; and a white +gull drifted across her vision like a moving star. + +Pontiac's Lookout had been the spot from which she watched her +father's bateau disappear behind Round Island. He used to go by way of +Detroit to the Canadian woods. Here she wept out her first grief for +his death; and here she stopped, coming and going between her mother +and grandmother. The cliff down to the beach was clothed with a thick +growth which took away the terror of falling, and many a time Jenieve +had thrust her bare legs over the edge to sit and enjoy the outlook. + +There were old women on the island who could remember seeing Pontiac. +Her grandmother had told her how he looked. She had heard that, though +his bones had been buried forty years beside the Mississippi, he yet +came back to the Lookout every night during that summer month when +all the tribes assembled at the island to receive money from a new +government. He could not lie still while they took a little metal and +ammunition in their hands in exchange for their country. As for the +tribes, they enjoyed it. Jenieve could see their night fires begin to +twinkle on Round Island and Bois Blanc, and the rising hubbub of their +carnival came to her like echoes across the strait. There was one +growing star on the long hooked reef which reached out from Round +Island, and figures of Indians were silhouetted against the lake, +running back and forth along that high stone ridge. Evening coolness +stole up to Jenieve, for the whole water world was purpling; and sweet +pine and cedar breaths, humid and invisible, were all around her. Her +trouble grew small, laid against the granite breast of the island, and +the woods darkened and sighed behind her. Jenieve could hear the shout +of some Indian boy at the distant village. She was not afraid, but her +shoulders contracted with a shiver. The place began to smell rankly +of sweetbrier. There was no sweetbrier on the cliff or in the woods, +though many bushes grew on alluvial slopes around the bay. Jenieve +loved the plant, and often stuck a piece of it in her bosom. But this +was a cold smell, striking chill to the bones. Her flesh and hair +and clothes absorbed the scent, and it cooled her nostrils with its +strange ether, the breath of sweetbrier, which always before seemed +tinctured by the sun. She had a sensation of moving sidewise out of +her own person; and then she saw the chief Pontiac standing on the +edge of the cliff. Jenieve knew his back, and the feathers in his hair +which the wind did not move. His head turned on a pivot, sweeping the +horizon from St. Ignace, where the white man first set foot, to Round +Island, where the shameful fires burned. His hard, set features were +silver color rather than copper, as she saw his profile against the +sky. His arms were folded in his blanket. Jenieve was as sure that she +saw Pontiac as she was sure of the rock on which she sat. She poked +one finger through the sward to the hardness underneath. The rock was +below her, and Pontiac stood before her. He turned his head back from +Round Island to St. Ignace. The wind blew against him, and the brier +odor, sickening sweet, poured over Jenieve. + +She heard the dogs bark in Mackinac village, and leaves moving behind +her, and the wash of water at the base of the island which always +sounded like a small rain. Instead of feeling afraid, she was in a +nightmare of sorrow. Pontiac had loved the French almost as well as +he loved his own people. She breathed the sweetbrier scent, her neck +stretched forward and her dark eyes fixed on him; and as his head +turned back from St. Ignace his whole body moved with it, and he +looked at Jenieve. + +His eyes were like a cat's in the purple darkness, or like that +heatless fire which shines on rotting bark. The hoar-frosted +countenance was noble even in its most brutal lines. Jenieve, without +knowing she was saying a word, spoke out:-- + +"Monsieur the chief Pontiac, what ails the French and Indians?" + +"Malatat," answered Pontiac. The word came at her with force. + +"Monsieur the chief Pontiac," repeated Jenieve, struggling to +understand, "I say, what ails the French and Indians?" + +"Malatat!" His guttural cry rang through the bushes. Jenieve was so +startled that she sprung back, catching herself on her hands. But +without the least motion of walking he was far westward, showing like +a phosphorescent bar through the trees, and still moving on, until the +pallor was lost from sight. + +Jenieve at once began to cross herself. She had forgotten to do it +before. The rankness of sweetbrier followed her some distance down the +path, and she said prayers all the way home. + +You cannot talk with great spirits and continue to chafe about little +things. The boys' shoes and Mama Lalotte's lightness were the same +as forgotten. Jenieve entered her house with dew in her hair, and +an unterrified freshness of body for whatever might happen. She was +certain she had seen Pontiac, but she would never tell anybody to have +it laughed at. There was no candle burning, and the fire had almost +died under the supper pot. She put a couple of sticks on the coals, +more for their blaze than to heat her food. But the Mackinac night +was chill, and it was pleasant to see the interior of her little home +flickering to view. Candles were lighted in many houses along the +beach, and amongst them Mama Lalotte was probably roaming,--for she +had left the door open towards the lake,--and the boys' voices could +be heard with others in the direction of the log wharf. + +Jenieve took her supper bowl and sat down on the doorstep. The light +cloud of smoke, drawn up to the roof-hole, ascended behind her, +forming an azure gray curtain against which her figure showed, +round-wristed and full-throated. The starlike camp fires on Round +Island were before her, and the incessant wash of the water on its +pebbles was company to her. Somebody knocked on the front door. + +"It is that insolent Michel Pensonneau," thought Jenieve. "When he +is tired he will go away." Yet she was not greatly surprised when the +visitor ceased knocking and came around the palisades. + +"Good-evening, Monsieur Crooks," said Jenieve. + +"Good-evening, mademoiselle," responded Monsieur Crooks, and he leaned +against the hut side, cap in hand, where he could look at her. He had +never yet been asked to enter the house. Jenieve continued to eat her +supper. + +"I hope monsieur your uncle is well?" + +"My uncle is well. It isn't necessary for me to inquire about madame +your mother, for I have just seen her sitting on McClure's doorstep." + +"Oh," said Jenieve. + +The young man shook his cap in a restless hand. Though he spoke French +easily, he was not dressed like an engagé, and he showed through the +dark the white skin of the Saxon. + +"Mademoiselle Jenieve,"--he spoke suddenly,--"you know my uncle is +well established as agent of the Fur Company, and as his assistant I +expect to stay here." + +"Yes, monsieur. Did you take in some fine bales of furs to-day?" + +"That is not what I was going to say." + +"Monsieur Crooks, you speak all languages, don't you?" + +"Not all. A few. I know a little of nearly every one of our Indian +dialects." + +"Monsieur, what does 'malatat' mean?" + +"'Malatat'? That's a Chippewa word. You will often hear that. It means +'good for nothing.'" + +"But I have heard that the chief Pontiac was an Ottawa." + +The young man was not interested in Pontiac. + +"A chief would know a great many dialects," he replied. "Chippewa was +the tongue of this island. But what I wanted to say is that I have +had a serious talk with the agent. He is entirely willing to have me +settle down. And he says, what is the truth, that you are the best and +prettiest girl at the straits. I have spoken my mind often enough. Why +shouldn't we get married right away?" + +Jenieve set her bowl and spoon inside the house, and folded her arms. + +"Monsieur, have I not told you many times? I cannot marry. I have a +family already." + +The young agent struck his cap impatiently against the bark +weather-boarding. "You are the most offish girl I ever saw. A man +cannot get near enough to you to talk reason." + +"It would be better if you did not come down here at all, Monsieur +Crooks," said Jenieve. "The neighbors will be saying I am setting a +bad example to my mother." + +"Bring your mother up to the Fur Company's quarters with you, and the +neighbors will no longer have a chance to put mischief into her head." + +Jenieve took him seriously, though she had often suspected, from +what she could see at the fort, that Americans had not the custom of +marrying an entire family. + +"It is really too fine a place for us." + +Young Crooks laughed. Squaws had lived in the Fur Company's quarters, +but he would not mention this fact to the girl. + +His eyes dwelt fondly on her in the darkness, for though the fire +behind her had again sunk to embers, it cast up a little glow; and he +stood entirely in the star-embossed outside world. It is not safe +to talk in the dark: you tell too much. The primitive instinct of +truth-speaking revives in force, and the restraints of another's +presence are gone. You speak from the unseen to the unseen over +leveled barriers of reserve. Young Crooks had scarcely said that +place was nothing, and he would rather live in that little house +with Jenieve than in the Fur Company's quarters without her, when she +exclaimed openly, "And have old Michel Pensonneau put over you!" + +The idea of Michel Pensonneau taking precedence of him as master +of the cedar hut was delicious to the American, as he recalled the +engagé's respectful slouch while receiving the usual bill of credit. + +"One may laugh, monsieur. I laugh myself; it is better than crying. +But it is the truth that Mama Lalotte is more care to me than all the +boys. I have no peace except when she is asleep in bed." + +"There is no harm in Madame Lalotte." + +"You are right, monsieur. Jean Bati' McClure's wife puts all the +mischief in her head. She would even learn to spin, if that woman +would let her alone." + +"And I never heard any harm of Michel Pensonneau. He is a good enough +fellow, and he has more to his credit on the Company's books than any +other engagé now on the island." + +"I suppose you would like to have him sit and smoke his pipe the rest +of his days on your doorstep?" + +"No, I wouldn't," confessed the young agent. "Michel is a saving man, +and he uses very mean tobacco, the cheapest in the house." + +"You see how I am situated, monsieur. It is no use to talk to me." + +"But Michel Pensonneau is not going to trouble you long. He has +relations at Cahokia, in the Illinois Territory, and he is fitting +himself out to go there to settle." + +"Are you sure of this, monsieur?" + +"Certainly I am, for we have already made him a bill of credit to our +correspondent at Cahokia. He wants very few goods to carry across the +Chicago portage." + +"Monsieur, how soon does he intend to go?" + +"On the first schooner that sails to the head of the lake; so he may +set out any day. Michel is anxious to try life on the Mississippi, and +his three years' engagement with the Company is just ended." + +"I also am anxious to have him try life on the Mississippi," said +Jenieve, and she drew a deep breath of relief. "Why did you not tell +me this before?" + +"How could I know you were interested in him?" + +"He is not a bad man," she admitted kindly. "I can see that he means +very well. If the McClures would go to the Illinois Territory +with him--But, Monsieur Crooks," Jenieve asked sharply, "do people +sometimes make sudden marriages?" + +"In my case they have not," sighed the young man. "But I think well of +sudden marriages myself. The priest comes to the island this week." + +"Yes, and I must take the children to confession." + +"What are you going to do with me, Jenieve?" + +"I am going to say good-night to you, and shut my door." She stepped +into the house. + +"Not yet. It is only a little while since they fired the sunset gun at +the fort. You are not kind to shut me out the moment I come." + +She gave him her hand, as she always did when she said good-night, and +he prolonged his hold of it. + +"You are full of sweetbrier. I didn't know it grew down here on the +beach." + +"It never did grow here, Monsieur Crooks." + +"You shall have plenty of it in your garden, when you come home with +me." + +"Oh, go away, and let me shut my door, monsieur. It seems no use to +tell you I cannot come." + +"No use at all. Until you come, then, good-night." + +Seldom are two days alike on the island. Before sunrise the lost dews +of paradise always sweeten those scented woods, and the birds begin to +remind you of something you heard in another life, but have forgotten. +Jenieve loved to open her door and surprise the east. She stepped out +the next morning to fill her pail. There was a lake of translucent +cloud beyond the water lake: the first unruffled, and the second +wind-stirred. The sun pushed up, a flattened red ball, from the lake +of steel ripples to the lake of calm clouds. Nearer, a schooner with +its sails down stood black as ebony between two bars of light drawn +across the water, which lay dull and bleak towards the shore. The +addition of a schooner to the scattered fleet of sailboats, bateaux, +and birch canoes made Jenieve laugh. It must have arrived from Sault +Ste. Marie in the night. She had hopes of getting rid of Michel +Pensonneau that very day. Since he was going to Cahokia, she felt +stinging regret for the way she had treated him before the whole +village; yet her mother could not be sacrificed to politeness. Except +his capacity for marrying, there was really no harm in the old fellow, +as Monsieur Crooks had said. + +The humid blockhouse and walls of the fort high above the bay began to +glisten in emerging sunlight, and Jenieve determined not to be hard on +Mama Lalotte that day. If Michel came to say good-by, she would shake +his hand herself. It was not agreeable for a woman so fond of company +to sit in the house with nobody but her daughter. Mama Lalotte did +not love the pine woods, or any place where she would be alone. But +Jenieve could sit and spin in solitude all day, and think of that +chill silver face she had seen at Pontiac's Lookout, and the floating +away of the figure, a phosphorescent bar through the trees, and of +that spoken word which had denounced the French and Indians as good +for nothing. She decided to tell the priest, even if he rebuked her. +It did not seem any stranger to Jenieve than many things which were +called natural, such as the morning miracles in the eastern sky, and +the growth of the boys, her dear torments. To Jenieve's serious eyes, +trained by her grandmother, it was not as strange as the sight of Mama +Lalotte, a child in maturity, always craving amusement, and easily led +by any chance hand. + +The priest had come to Mackinac in the schooner during the night. He +combined this parish with others more or less distant, and he opened +the chapel and began his duties as soon as he arrived. Mama Lalotte +herself offered to dress the boys for confession. She put their best +clothes on them, and then she took out all her own finery. Jenieve +had no suspicion while the little figure preened and burnished itself, +making up for the lack of a mirror by curves of the neck to look +itself well over. Mama Lalotte thought a great deal about what she +wore. She was pleased, and her flaxen curls danced. She kissed Jenieve +on both cheeks, as if there had been no quarrel, though unpleasant +things never lingered in her memory. And she made the boys kiss +Jenieve; and while they were saddened by clothes, she also made them +say they were sorry about the shoes. + +By sunset, the schooner, which had sat in the straits all day, hoisted +its sails and rounded the hooked point of the opposite island. The +gun at the fort was like a parting salute, and a shout was raised by +coureurs-de-bois thronging the log wharf. They trooped up to the fur +warehouse, and the sound of a fiddle and the thump of soft-shod feet +were soon heard; for the French were ready to celebrate any occasion +with dancing. Laughter and the high excited voices of women also +came from the little ball-room, which was only the office of the Fur +Company. + +Here the engagés felt at home. The fiddler sat on the top of the desk, +and men lounging on a row of benches around the walls sprang to their +feet and began to caper at the violin's first invitation. Such maids +and wives as were nearest the building were haled in, laughing, by +their relations; and in the absence of the agents, and of that awe +which goes with making your cross-mark on a paper, a quick carnival +was held on the spot where so many solemn contracts had been signed. +An odor of furs came from the packing-rooms around, mixed with gums +and incense-like whiffs. Added to this was the breath of the general +store kept by the agency. Tobacco and snuff, rum, chocolate, calico, +blankets, wood and iron utensils, fire-arms, West India sugar and +rice,--all sifted their invisible essences on the air. Unceiled joists +showed heavy and brown overhead. But there was no fireplace, for when +the straits stood locked in ice and the island was deep in snow, no +engagé claimed admission here. He would be a thousand miles away, +toiling on snow-shoes with his pack of furs through the trees, +or bargaining with trappers for his contribution to this month of +enormous traffic. + +Clean buckskin legs and brand-new belted hunting-shirts whirled on the +floor, brightened by sashes of crimson or kerchiefs of orange. Indians +from the reservation on Round Island, who happened to be standing, +like statues, in front of the building, turned and looked with lenient +eye on the performance of their French brothers. The fiddler was a +nervous little Frenchman with eyes like a weasel, and he detected +Jenieve Lalotte putting her head into the room. She glanced from +figure to figure of the dancers, searching through the twilight for +what she could not find; but before he could call her she was off. +None of the men, except a few Scotch-French, were very tall, but +they were a handsome, muscular race, fierce in enjoyment, yet with a +languor which prolonged it, and gave grace to every picturesque pose. +Not one of them wanted to pain Lalotte's girl, but, as they danced, +a joyful fellow would here and there spring high above the floor and +shout, "Good voyage to Michel Pensonneau and his new family!" They had +forgotten the one who amused them yesterday, and remembered only the +one who amused them to-day. + +Jenieve struck on Jean Bati' McClure's door, and faced his wife, +speechless, pointing to the schooner ploughing southward. + +"Yes, she's gone," said Jean Bati' McClure's wife, "and the boys with +her." + +The confidante came out on the step, and tried to lay her hand on +Jenieve's shoulder, but the girl moved backward from her. + +"Now let me tell you, it is a good thing for you, Jenieve Lalotte. You +can make a fine match of your own to-morrow. It is not natural for a +girl to live as you have lived. You are better off without them." + +"But my mother has left me!" + +"Well, I am sorry for you; but you were hard on her." + +"I blame you, madame!" + +"You might as well blame the priest, who thought it best not to let +them go unmarried. And she has taken a much worse man than Michel +Pensonneau in her time." + +"My mother and my brothers have left me here alone," repeated Jenieve; +and she wrung her hands and put them over her face. The trouble was so +overwhelming that it broke her down before her enemy. + +"Oh, don't take it to heart," said Jean Bati' McClure's wife, with +ready interest in the person nearest at hand. "Come and eat supper +with my man and me to-night, and sleep in our house if you are +afraid." + +Jenieve leaned her forehead against the hut, and made no reply to +these neighborly overtures. + +"Did she say nothing at all about me, madame?" + +"Yes; she was afraid you would come at the last minute and take her by +the arm and walk her home. You were too strict with her, and that is +the truth. She was glad to get away to Cahokia. They say it is fine in +the Illinois Territory. You know she is fond of seeing the world." + +The young supple creature trying to restrain her shivers and sobs of +anguish against the bark house side was really a moving sight; and +Jean Bati' McClure's wife, flattening a masculine upper lip with +resolution, said promptly,-- + +"I am going this moment to the Fur Company's quarters to send young +Monsieur Crooks after you." + +At that Jenieve fled along the beach and took to the bushes. As she +ran, weeping aloud like a child, she watched the lessening schooner; +and it seemed a monstrous thing, out of nature, that her mother was +on that little ship, fleeing from her, with a thoughtless face set +smiling towards a new world. She climbed on, to keep the schooner in +sight, and made for Pontiac's Lookout, reckless of what she had seen +there. + +The distant canvas became one leaning sail, and then a speck, and +then nothing. There was an afterglow on the water which turned it to +a wavering pavement of yellow-pink sheen. In that clear, high +atmosphere, mainland shores and islands seemed to throw out the +evening purples from themselves, and thus to slowly reach for one +another and form darkness. Jenieve had lain on the grass, crying, "O +Mama--François--Toussaint--Gabriel!" But she sat up at last, with her +dejected head on her breast, submitting to the pettiness and treachery +of what she loved. Bats flew across the open place. A sudden rankness +of sweetbrier, taking her breath away by its icy puff, reminded her of +other things, and she tried to get up and run. Instead of running she +seemed to move sidewise out of herself, and saw Pontiac standing on +the edge of the cliff. His head turned from St. Ignace to the reviving +fires on Round Island, and slowly back again from Round Island to St. +Ignace. Jenieve felt as if she were choking, but again she asked out +of her heart to his,-- + +"Monsieur the chief Pontiac, what ails the French and Indians?" + +He floated around to face her, the high ridges of his bleached +features catching light; but this time he showed only dim dead eyes. +His head sunk on his breast, and Jenieve could see the fronds of the +feathers he wore traced indistinctly against the sky. The dead eyes +searched for her and could not see her; he whispered hoarsely to +himself, "Malatat!" + +The voice of the living world calling her name sounded directly +afterwards in the woods, and Jenieve leaped as if she were shot. She +had the instinct that her lover must not see this thing, for there +were reasons of race and religion against it. But she need not +have feared that Pontiac would show himself, or his long and savage +mourning for the destruction of the red man, to any descendant of +the English. As the bushes closed behind her she looked back: the +phosphoric blur was already so far in the west that she could hardly +be sure she saw it again. And the young agent of the Fur Company, +breaking his way among leaves, met her with both hands; saying gayly, +to save her the shock of talking about her mother:-- + +"Come home, come home, my sweetbrier maid. No wonder you smell +of sweetbrier. I am rank with it myself, rubbing against the dewy +bushes." + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Chase Of Saint-Castin And Other +Stories Of The French In The New World, by Mary Hartwell Catherwood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHASE OF SAINT-CASTIN *** + +***** This file should be named 12199-8.txt or 12199-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/1/9/12199/ + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Leah Moser and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + + +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. 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For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: + https://www.gutenberg.org/GUTINDEX.ALL + + diff --git a/old/12199-8.zip b/old/12199-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ebe2f40 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12199-8.zip diff --git a/old/12199.txt b/old/12199.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..587b999 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12199.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5398 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Chase Of Saint-Castin And Other Stories +Of The French In The New World, by Mary Hartwell Catherwood + +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 Chase Of Saint-Castin And Other Stories Of The French In The New World + +Author: Mary Hartwell Catherwood + +Release Date: April 29, 2004 [EBook #12199] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHASE OF SAINT-CASTIN *** + + + + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Leah Moser and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + + + + + + + +THE CHASE OF SAINT-CASTIN + +AND OTHER STORIES OF + +THE FRENCH IN THE + +NEW WORLD + + + +BY + +MARY HARTWELL CATHERWOOD + +[Illustration] + +1894 + + + + +THE CHASE OF SAINT-CASTIN. + + +The waiting April woods, sensitive in every leafless twig to spring, +stood in silence and dim nightfall around a lodge. Wherever a human +dwelling is set in the wilderness, it becomes, by the very humility of +its proportions, a prominent and aggressive point. But this lodge +of bark and poles was the color of the woods, and nearly escaped +intruding as man's work. A glow lighted the top, revealing the faint +azure of smoke which rose straight upward in the cool, clear air. + +Such a habitation usually resounded at nightfall with Indian noises, +especially if the day's hunting had been good. The mossy rocks lying +around, were not more silent than the inmates of this lodge. You could +hear the Penobscot River foaming along its uneasy bed half a mile +eastward. The poles showed freshly cut disks of yellow at the top; and +though the bark coverings were such movables as any Indian household +carried, they were newly fastened to their present support. This was +plainly the night encampment of a traveling party, and two French +hunters and their attendant Abenaquis recognized that, as it barred +their trail to the river. An odor of roasted meat was wafted out like +an invitation to them. + +"Excellent, Saint-Castin," pronounced the older Frenchman. "Here +is another of your wilderness surprises. No wonder you prefer an +enchanted land to the rough mountains around Bearn. I shall never go +back to France myself." + +"Stop, La Hontan!" The young man restrained his guest from plunging +into the wigwam with a headlong gesture recently learned and practiced +with delight. "I never saw this lodge before." + +"Did you not have it set up here for the night?" + +"No; it is not mine. Our Abenaquis are going to build one for us +nearer the river." + +"I stay here," observed La Hontan. "Supper is ready, and adventures +are in the air." + +"But this is not a hunter's lodge. You see that our very dogs +understand they have no business here. Come on." + +"Come on, without seeing who is hid herein? No. I begin to think it is +something thou wouldst conceal from me. I go in; and if it be a bear +trap, I cheerfully perish." + +The young Frenchman stood resting the end of his gun on sodden leaves. +He felt vexed at La Hontan. But that inquisitive nobleman stooped +to lift the tent flap, and the young man turned toward his waiting +Indians and talked a moment in Abenaqui, when they went on in the +direction of the river, carrying game and camp luggage. They thought, +as he did, that this might be a lodge with which no man ought to +meddle. The daughter of Madockawando, the chief, was known to be +coming from her winter retreat. Every Abenaqui in the tribe stood +in awe of the maid. She did not rule them as a wise woman, but lived +apart from them as a superior spirit. + +Baron La Hontan, on all fours, intruded his gay face on the inmates of +the lodge. There were three of them. His palms encountered a carpet +of hemlock twigs, which spread around a central fire to the circular +wall, and was made sweetly odorous by the heat. A thick couch of the +twigs was piled up beyond the fire, and there sat an Abenaqui girl in +her winter dress of furs. She was so white-skinned that she startled +La Hontan as an apparition of Europe. He got but one black-eyed +glance. She drew her blanket over her head. The group had doubtless +heard the conference outside, but ignored it with reticent gravity. +The hunter of the lodge was on his heels by the embers, toasting +collops of meat for the blanketed princess; and an Etchemin woman, the +other inmate, took one from his hand, and paused, while dressing it +with salt, to gaze at the Frenchman. + +La Hontan had not found himself distasteful to northwestern Indian +girls. It was the first time an aboriginal face had ever covered +itself from exposure to his eyes. He felt the sudden respect which +nuns command, even in those who scoff at their visible consecration. +The usual announcement made on entering a cabin--"I come to see this +man," or "I come to see that woman,"--he saw was to be omitted in +addressing this strangely civilized Indian girl. + +"Mademoiselle," said Baron La Hontan in very French Abenaqui, rising +to one knee, and sweeping the twigs with the brim of his hat as he +pulled it off, "the Baron de Saint-Castin of Pentegoet, the friend of +your chief Madockawando, is at your lodge door, tired and chilled from +a long hunt. Can you not permit him to warm at your fire?" + +The Abenaqui girl bowed her covered head. Her woman companion passed +the permission on, and the hunter made it audible by a grunt of +assent. La Hontan backed nimbly out, and seized the waiting man by the +leg. The main portion of the baron was in the darkening April woods, +but his perpendicular soles stood behind the flap within the lodge. + +"Enter, my child," he whispered in excitement. "A warm fire, +hot collops, a black eye to be coaxed out of a blanket, and full +permission given to enjoy all. What, man! Out of countenance at +thought of facing a pretty squaw, when you have three keeping house +with you at the fort?" + +"Come out, La Hontan," whispered back Saint-Castin, on his part +grasping the elder's arm. "It is Madockawando's daughter." + +"The red nun thou hast told me about? The saints be praised! But art +thou sure?" + +"How can I be sure? I have never seen her myself. But I judge from her +avoiding your impudent eye. She does not like to be looked at." + +"It was my mentioning the name of Saint-Castin of Pentegoet that +made her whip her head under the blanket. I see, if I am to keep my +reputation in the woods, I shall have to withdraw from your company." + +"Withdraw your heels from this lodge," replied Saint-Castin +impatiently. "You will embroil me with the tribe." + +"Why should it embroil you with the tribe," argued the merry sitter, +"if we warm our heels decently at this ready fire until the Indians +light our own? Any Christian, white or red, would grant us that +privilege." + +"If I enter with you, will you come out with me as soon as I make you +a sign?" + +"Doubt it not," said La Hontan, and he eclipsed himself directly. + +Though Saint-Castin had been more than a year in Acadia, this was the +first time he had ever seen Madockawando's daughter. He knew it was +that elusive being, on her way from her winter retreat to the tribe's +summer fishing station near the coast. Father Petit, the priest of +this woodland parish, spoke of her as one who might in time found a +house of holy women amidst the license of the wilderness. + +Saint-Castin wanted to ask her pardon for entering; but he sat without +a sound. Some power went out from that silent shape far stronger than +the hinted beauty of girlish ankle and arm. The glow of brands lighted +the lodge, showing the bark seams on its poles. Pale smoke and the +pulse of heat quivered betwixt him and a presence which, by some swift +contrast, made his face burn at the recollection of his household +at Pentegoet. He had seen many good women in his life, with the +patronizing tolerance which men bestow on unpiquant things that are +harmless; and he did not understand why her hiding should stab him +like a reproach. She hid from all common eyes. But his were not common +eyes. Saint-Castin felt impatient at getting no recognition from a +girl, saint though she might be, whose tribe he had actually adopted. + +The blunt-faced Etchemin woman, once a prisoner brought from northern +Acadia, now the companion of Madockawando's daughter, knew her duty to +the strangers, and gave them food as rapidly as the hunter could broil +it. The hunter was a big-legged, small-headed Abenaqui, with knees +over-topping his tuft of hair when he squatted on his heels. He looked +like a man whose emaciated trunk and arms had been taken possession of +by colossal legs and feet. This singular deformity made him the best +hunter in his tribe. He tracked game with a sweep of great beams as +tireless as the tread of a modern steamer. The little sense in his +head was woodcraft. He thought of nothing but taking and dressing +game. + +Saint-Castin barely tasted the offered meat; but La Hontan enjoyed it +unabashed, warming himself while he ate, and avoiding any chance of a +hint from his friend that the meal should be cut short. + +"My child," he said in lame Abenaqui to the Etchemin woman, while his +sly regard dwelt on the blanket-robed statue opposite, "I wish you the +best of gifts, a good husband." + +The Etchemin woman heard him in such silence as one perhaps brings +from making a long religious retreat, and forbore to explain that +she already had the best of gifts, and was the wife of the big-legged +hunter. + +"I myself had an aunt who, never married," warned La Hontan. "She +was an excellent woman, but she turned like fruit withered in the +ripening. The fantastic airs of her girlhood clung to her. She was at +a disadvantage among the married, and young people passed her by as +an experiment that had failed. So she was driven to be very religious; +but prayers are cold comfort for the want of a bouncing family." + +If the Etchemin woman had absorbed from her mistress a habit of +meditation which shut out the world, Saint-Castin had not. He gave La +Hontan the sign to move before him out of the lodge, and no choice +but to obey it, crowding the reluctant and comfortable man into +undignified attitudes. La Hontan saw that he had taken offense. There +was no accounting for the humors of those disbanded soldiers of the +Carignan-Salieres, though Saint-Castin was usually a gentle fellow. +They spread out their sensitive military honor over every inch of +their new seigniories; and if you chucked the wrong little Indian or +habitant's naked baby under the chin, you might unconsciously stir +up war in the mind of your host. La Hontan was glad he was directly +leaving Acadia. He was fond of Saint-Castin. Few people could approach +that young man without feeling the charm which made the Indians adore +him. But any one who establishes himself in the woods loses touch with +the light manners of civilization; his very vices take on an air of +brutal candor. + +Next evening, however, both men were merry by the hall fire at +Pentegoet over their parting cup. La Hontan was returning to Quebec. +A vessel waited the tide at the Penobscot's mouth, a bay which the +Indians call "bad harbor." + +The long, low, and irregular building which Saint-Castin had +constructed as his baronial seat was as snug as the governor's castle +at Quebec. It was only one story high, and the small square +windows were set under the eaves, so outsiders could not look in. +Saint-Castin's enemies said he built thus to hide his deeds; but +Father Petit himself could see how excellent a plan it was for +defense. A holding already claimed by the encroaching English needed +loop-holes, not windows. The fort surrounding the house was also well +adapted to its situation. Twelve cannon guarded the bastions. All the +necessary buildings, besides a chapel with a bell, were within the +walls, and a deep well insured a supply of water. A garden and fruit +orchard were laid out opposite the fort, and encompassed by palisades. + +The luxury of the house consisted in an abundant use of crude, +unpolished material. Though built grotesquely of stone and wood +intermingled, it had the solid dignity of that rugged coast. A chimney +spacious as a crater let smoke and white ashes upward, and sections of +trees smouldered on Saint-Castin's hearth. An Indian girl, ruddy from +high living, and wearing the brightest stuffs imported from France, +sat on the floor at the hearth corner. This was the usual night scene +at Pentegoet. Candle and firelight shone on her, on oak timbers, and +settles made of unpeeled balsam, on plate and glasses which always +heaped a table with ready food and drink, on moose horns and gun +racks, on stores of books, on festoons of wampum, and usually on a +dozen figures beside Saint-Castin. The other rooms in the house were +mere tributaries to this baronial presence chamber. Madockawando and +the dignitaries of the Abenaqui tribe made it their council hall, the +white sagamore presiding. They were superior to rude western nations. +It was Saint-Castin's plan to make a strong principality here, and to +unite his people in a compact state. He lavished his inherited money +upon them. Whatever they wanted from Saint-Castin they got, as from a +father. On their part, they poured the wealth of the woods upon him. +Not a beaver skin went out of Acadia except through his hands. The +traders of New France grumbled at his profits and monopoly, and the +English of New England claimed his seigniory. He stood on debatable +ground, in dangerous times, trying to mould an independent nation. +The Abenaquis did not know that a king of France had been reared +on Saint-Castin's native mountains, but they believed that a human +divinity had. + +Their permanent settlement was about the fort, on land he had paid +for, but held in common with them. They went to their winter's hunting +or their summer's fishing from Pentegoet. It was the seat of power. +The cannon protected fields and a town of lodges which Saint-Castin +meant to convert into a town of stone and hewed wood houses as soon as +the aboriginal nature conformed itself to such stability. Even now +the village had left home and gone into the woods again. The Abenaqui +women were busy there, inserting tubes of bark in pierced maple-trees, +and troughs caught the flow of ascending sap. Kettles boiled over +fires in the bald spaces, incense of the forest's very heart rising +from them and sweetening the air. All day Indian children raced from +one mother's fire to another, or dipped unforbidden cups of hands into +the brimming troughs; and at night they lay down among the dogs, with +their heels to the blaze, watching these lower constellations blink +through the woods until their eyes swam into unconsciousness. It was +good weather for making maple sugar. In the mornings hoar frost +or light snows silvered the world, disappearing as soon as the sun +touched them, when the bark of every tree leaked moisture. This was +festive labor compared with planting the fields, and drew the men, +also. + +The morning after La Hontan sailed, Saint-Castin went out and skirted +this wide-spread sugar industry like a spy. The year before, he had +moved heartily from fire to fire, hailed and entertained by every red +manufacturer. The unrest of spring was upon him. He had brought many +conveniences among the Abenaquis, and taught them some civilized arts. +They were his adopted people. But he felt a sudden separateness from +them, like the loneliness of his early boyhood. + +Saint-Castin was a good hunter. He had more than once watched a slim +young doe stand gazing curiously at him, and had not startled it by a +breath. Therefore he was able to become a stump behind the tree which +Madockawando's daughter sought with her sap pail. Usually he wore +buckskins, in the free and easy life of Pentegoet. But he had put on +his Carignan-Salieres uniform, filling its boyish outlines with his +full man's figure. He would not on any account have had La Hontan see +him thus gathering the light of the open woods on military finery. +He felt ashamed of returning to it, and could not account for his +own impulses; and when he saw Madockawando's daughter walking +unconsciously toward him as toward a trap, he drew his bright surfaces +entirely behind the column of the tree. + +She had taken no part in this festival of labor for several years. She +moved among the women still in solitude, not one of them feeling at +liberty to draw near her except as she encouraged them. The Abenaquis +were not a polygamous tribe, but they enjoyed the freedom of the +woods. Squaws who had made several experimental marriages since +this young celibate began her course naturally felt rebuked by her +standards, and preferred stirring kettles to meeting her. It was not +so long since the princess had been a hoiden among them, abounding +in the life which rushes to extravagant action. Her juvenile whoops +scared the birds. She rode astride of saplings, and played pranks +on solemn old warriors and the medicine-man. Her body grew into +suppleness and beauty. As for her spirit, the women of the tribe knew +very little about it. They saw none of her struggles. In childhood +she was ashamed of the finer nature whose wants found no answer in +her world. It was anguish to look into the faces of her kindred and +friends as into the faces of hounds who live, it is true, but a lower +life, made up of chasing and eating. She wondered why she was created +different from them. A loyalty of race constrained her sometimes to +imitate them; but it was imitation; she could not be a savage. Then +Father Petit came, preceding Saint-Castin, and set up his altar and +built his chapel. The Abenaqui girl was converted as soon as she +looked in at the door and saw the gracious image of Mary lifted up to +be her pattern of womanhood. Those silent and terrible days, when she +lost interest in the bustle of living, and felt an awful homesickness +for some unknown good, passed entirely away. Religion opened an +invisible world. She sprang toward it, lying on the wings of her +spirit and gazing forever above. The minutest observances of the +Church were learned with an exactness which delighted a priest who had +not too many encouragements. Finally, she begged her father to let +her make a winter retreat to some place near the headwaters of the +Penobscot. When the hunters were abroad, it did them no harm to +remember there was a maid in a wilderness cloister praying for the +good of her people; and when they were fortunate, they believed in the +material advantage of her prayers. Nobody thought of searching out her +hidden cell, or of asking the big-legged hunter and his wife to tell +its mysteries. The dealer with invisible spirits commanded respect in +Indian minds before the priest came. + +Madockawando's daughter was of a lighter color than most of her tribe, +and finer in her proportions, though they were a well-made people. She +was the highest expression of unadulterated Abenaqui blood. She set +her sap pail down by the trough, and Saint-Castin shifted silently to +watch her while she dipped the juice. Her eyelids were lowered. She +had well-marked brows, and the high cheek-bones were lost in a general +acquiline rosiness. It was a girl's face, modest and sweet, that he +saw; reflecting the society of holier beings than the one behind the +tree. She had no blemish of sunken temples or shrunk features, or the +glaring aspect of a devotee. Saint-Castin was a good Catholic, but he +did not like fanatics. It was as if the choicest tree in the forest +had been flung open, and a perfect woman had stepped out, whom no +other man's eye had seen. Her throat was round, and at the base of it, +in the little hollow where women love to nestle ornaments, hung the +cross of her rosary, which she wore twisted about her neck. The +beads were large and white, and the cross was ivory. Father Petit had +furnished them, blessed for their purpose, to his incipient abbess, +but Saint-Castin noticed how they set off the dark rosiness of her +skin. The collar of her fur dress was pushed back, for the day was +warm, like an autumn day when there is no wind. A luminous smoke which +magnified the light hung between treetops and zenith. The nakedness of +the swelling forest let heaven come strangely close to the ground. It +was like standing on a mountain plateau in a gray dazzle of clouds. + +Madockawando's daughter dipped her pail full of the clear water. The +appreciative motion of her eyelashes and the placid lines of her face +told how she enjoyed the limpid plaything. But Saint-Castin understood +well that she had not come out to boil sap entirely for the love of +it. Father Petit believed the time was ripe for her ministry to the +Abenaqui women. He had intimated to the seignior what land might be +convenient for the location of a convent. The community was now to +be drawn around her. Other girls must take vows when she did. Some +half-covered children, who stalked her wherever she went, stood like +terra-cotta images at a distance and waited for her next movement. + +The girl had just finished her dipping when she looked up and met the +steady gaze of Saint-Castin. He was in an anguish of dread that she +would run. But her startled eyes held his image while three changes +passed over her,--terror and recognition and disapproval. He stepped +more into view, a white-and-gold apparition, which scattered the +Abenaqui children to their mothers' camp-fires. + +"I am Saint-Castin," he said. + +"Yes, I have many times seen you, sagamore." + +Her voice, shaken a little by her heart, was modulated to such +softness that the liquid gutturals gave him a distinct new pleasure. + +"I want to ask your pardon for my friend's rudeness, when you warmed +and fed us in your lodge." + +"I did not listen to him." Her fingers sought the cross on her +neck. She seemed to threaten a prayer which might stop her ears to +Saint-Castin. + +"He meant no discourtesy. If you knew his good heart, you would like +him." + +"I do not like men." She made a calm statement of her peculiar tastes. + +"Why?" inquired Saint-Castin. + +Madockawando's daughter summoned her reasons from distant vistas of +the woods, with meditative dark eyes. Evidently her dislike of men had +no element of fear or of sentimental avoidance. + +"I cannot like them," she apologized, declining to set forth her +reasons. "I wish they would always stay away from me." + +"Your father and the priest are men." + +"I know it," admitted the girl, with a deep breath like commiseration. +"They cannot help it; and our Etchemin's husband, who keeps the lodge +supplied with meat, he cannot help it, either, any more than he can +his deformity. But there is grace for men," she added. "They may, +by repenting of their sins and living holy lives, finally save their +souls." + +Saint-Castin repented of his sins that moment, and tried to look +contrite. + +"In some of my books," he said, "I read of an old belief held by +people on the other side of the earth. They thought our souls were +born into the world a great many times, now in this body, and now in +that. I feel as if you and I had been friends in some other state." + +The girl's face seemed to flare toward him as flame is blown, +acknowledging the claim he made upon her; but the look passed like an +illusion, and she said seriously, "The sagamore should speak to Father +Petit. This is heresy." + +Madockawando's daughter stood up, and took her pail by the handle. + +"Let me carry it," said Saint-Castin. + +Her lifted palm barred his approach. + +"I do not like men, sagamore. I wish them to keep away from me." + +"But that is not Christian," he argued. + +"It cannot be unchristian: the priest would lay me under penance for +it." + +"Father Petit is a lenient soul." + +With the simplicity of an angel who would not be longer hindered by +mundane society, she took up her pail, saying, "Good-day, sagamore," +and swept on across the dead leaves. + +Saint-Castin walked after her. + +"Go back," commanded Madockawando's daughter, turning. + +The officer of the Carignan-Salieres regiment halted, but did not +retreat. + +"You must not follow me, sagamore," she remonstrated, as with a child. +"I cannot talk to you." + +"You must let me talk to you," said Saint-Castin. "I want you for my +wife." + +She looked at him in a way that made his face scorch. He remembered +the year wife, the half-year wife, and the two-months wife at +Pentegoet. These three squaws whom he had allowed to form his +household, and had taught to boil the pot au feu, came to him from +many previous experimental marriages. They were externals of his life, +much as hounds, boats, or guns. He could give them all rich dowers, +and divorce them easily any day to a succeeding line of legal Abenaqui +husbands. The lax code of the wilderness was irresistible to a +Frenchman; but he was near enough in age and in texture of soul +to this noble pagan to see at once, with her eyesight, how he had +degraded the very vices of her people. + +"Before the sun goes down," vowed Saint-Castin, "there shall be nobody +in my house but the two Etchemin slave men that your father gave me." + +The girl heard of his promised reformation without any kindling of the +spirit. + +"I am not for a wife," she answered him, and walked on with the pail. + +Again Saint-Castin followed her, and took the sap pail from her hand. +He set it aside on the leaves, and folded his arms. The blood came +and went in his face. He was not used to pleading with women. They +belonged to him easily, like his natural advantages over barbarians +in a new world. The slopes of the Pyrenees bred strong-limbed men, +cautious in policy, striking and bold in figure and countenance. The +English themselves have borne witness to his fascinations. Manhood had +darkened only the surface of his skin, a milk-white cleanness breaking +through it like the outflushing of some inner purity. His eyes and +hair had a golden beauty. It would have been strange if he had not +roused at least a degree of comradeship in the aboriginal woman living +up to her highest aspirations. + +"I love you. I have thought of you, of nobody but you, even when I +behaved the worst. You have kept yourself hid from me, while I have +been thinking about you ever since I came to Acadia. You are the woman +I want to marry." + +Madockawando's daughter shook her head. She had patience with his +fantastic persistence, but it annoyed her. + +"I am not for a wife," she repeated. "I do not like men." + +"Is it that you do not like me?" + +"No," she answered sincerely, probing her mind for the truth. "You +yourself are different from our Abenaqui men." + +"Then why do you make me unhappy?" + +"I do not make you unhappy. I do not even think of you." + +Again she took to her hurried course, forgetting the pail of sap. +Saint-Castin seized it, and once more followed her. + +"I beg that you will kiss me," he pleaded, trembling. + +The Abenaqui girl laughed aloud. + +"Does the sagamore think he is an object of veneration, that I should +kiss him?" + +"But will you not at least touch your lips to my forehead?" + +"No. I touch my lips to holy things." + +"You do not understand the feeling I have." + +"No, I do not understand it. If you talked every day, it would do no +good. My thoughts are different." + +Saint-Castin gave her the pail, and looked her in the eyes. + +"Perhaps you will some time understand," he said. "I lived many wild +years before I did." + +She was so glad to leave him behind that her escape was like a +backward blow, and he did not make enough allowance for the natural +antagonism of a young girl. Her beautiful free motion was something to +watch. She was a convert whose penances were usually worked out afoot, +for Father Petit knew better than to shut her up. + +Saint-Castin had never dreamed there were such women. She was like a +nymph out of a tree, without human responsiveness, yet with round arms +and waist and rosy column of neck, made to be helplessly adored. He +remembered the lonesome moods of his early youth. They must have been +a premonition of his fate in falling completely under the spell of an +unloving woman. + +Saint-Castin took a roundabout course, and went to Madockawando's +lodge, near the fort. All the members of the family, except the old +chief, were away at the sugar-making. The great Abenaqui's dignity +would not allow him to drag in fuel to the fire, so he squatted +nursing the ashes, and raked out a coal to light tobacco for himself +and Saint-Castin. The white sagamore had never before come in full +uniform to a private talk, and it was necessary to smoke half an hour +before a word could be said. + +There was a difference between the chatter of civilized men and the +deliberations of barbarians. With La Hontan, the Baron de Saint-Castin +would have led up to his business by a long prelude on other subjects. +With Madockawando, he waited until the tobacco had mellowed both their +spirits, and then said,-- + +"Father, I want to marry your daughter in the French way, with priest +and contract, and make her the Baroness de Saint-Castin." + +Madockawando, on his part, smoked the matter fairly out. He put an arm +on the sagamore's shoulder, and lamented the extreme devotion of his +daughter. It was a good religion which the black-robed father had +brought among the Abenaquis, but who had ever heard of a woman's +refusing to look at men before that religion came? His own child, when +she was at home with the tribe, lived as separate from the family and +as independently as a war-chief. In his time, the women dressed game +and carried the children and drew sledges. What would happen if his +daughter began to teach them, in a house by themselves, to do nothing +but pray? Madockawando repeated that his son, the sagamore, and +his father, the priest, had a good religion, but they might see for +themselves what the Abenaqui tribe would come to when the women all +set up for medicine squaws. Then there was his daughter's hiding in +winter to make what she called her retreats, and her proposing to take +a new name from some of the priest's okies or saint-spirits, and to be +called "Sister." + +"I will never call my own child 'Sister,'" vowed Madockawando. "I +could be a better Christian myself, if Father Petit had not put spells +on her." + +The two conspirators against Father Petit's proposed nunnery felt +grave and wicked, but they encouraged one another in iniquity. +Madockawando smiled in bronze wrinkles when Saint-Castin told him +about the proposal in the woods. The proper time for courtship was +evening, as any Frenchman who had lived a year with the tribe ought to +know; but when one considered the task he had undertaken, any time +was suitable; and the chief encouraged him with full consent. A French +marriage contract was no better than an Abenaqui marriage contract in +Madockawando's eyes; but if Saint-Castin could bind up his daughter +for good, he would be glad of it. + +The chapel of saplings and bark which first sheltered Father Petit's +altar had been abandoned when Saint-Castin built a substantial one +of stone and timber within the fortress walls, and hung in its little +tower a bell, which the most reluctant Abenaqui must hear at mass +time. But as it is well to cherish the sacred regard which man has for +any spot where he has worshiped, the priest left a picture hanging on +the wall above the bare chancel, and he kept the door repaired on its +wooden hinges. The chapel stood beyond the forest, east of Pentegoet, +and close to those battlements which form the coast line here. The +tide made thunder as it rose among caverns and frothed almost at the +verge of the heights. From this headland Mount Desert could be seen, +leading the host of islands which go out into the Atlantic, ethereal +in fog or lurid in the glare of sunset. + +Madockawando's daughter tended the old chapel in summer, for she had +first seen religion through its door. She wound the homely chancel +rail with evergreens, and put leaves and red berries on the walls, and +flowers under the sacred picture; her Etchemin woman always keeping +her company. Father Petit hoped to see this rough shrine become a +religious seminary, and strings of women led there every day to take, +like contagion, from an abbess the instruction they took so slowly +from a priest. + +She and the Etchemin found it a dismal place, on their first visit +after the winter retreat. She reproached herself for coming so late; +but day and night an influence now encompassed Madockawando's daughter +which she felt as a restraint on her freedom. A voice singing softly +the love-songs of southern France often waked her from her sleep. The +words she could not interpret, but the tone the whole village could, +and she blushed, crowding paters on aves, until her voice sometimes +became as distinct as Saint-Castin's in resolute opposition. It was so +grotesque that it made her laugh. Yet to a woman the most formidable +quality in a suitor is determination. + +When the three girls who had constituted Saint-Castin's household +at the fort passed complacently back to their own homes laden with +riches, Madockawando's daughter was unreasonably angry, and felt their +loss as they were incapable of feeling it for themselves. She was +alien to the customs of her people. The fact pressed upon her that her +people were completely bound to the white sagamore and all his deeds. +Saint-Castin's sins had been open to the tribe, and his repentance was +just as open. Father Petit praised him. + +"My son Jean Vincent de l'Abadie, Baron de Saint-Castin, has need of +spiritual aid to sustain him in the paths of virtue," said the priest +impressively, "and he is seeking it." + +At every church service the lax sinner was now on his knees in plain +sight of the devotee; but she never looked at him. All the tribe soon +knew what he had at heart, and it was told from camp-fire to camp-fire +how he sat silent every night in the hall at Pentegoet, with his hair +ruffled on his forehead, growing more haggard from day to day. + +The Abenaqui girl did not talk with other women about what happened in +the community. Dead saints crowded her mind to the exclusion of living +sinners. All that she heard came by way of her companion, the stolid +Etchemin, and when it was unprofitable talk it was silenced. They +labored together all the chill April afternoon, bringing the chapel +out of its winter desolation. The Etchemin made brooms of hemlock, and +brushed down cobwebs and dust, and laboriously swept the rocky earthen +floor, while the princess, standing upon a scaffold of split log +benches, wiped the sacred picture and set a border of tender moss +around it. It was a gaudy red print representing a pierced heart. +The Indian girl kissed every sanguinary drop which dribbled down the +coarse paper. Fog and salt air had given it a musty odor, and stained +the edges with mildew. She found it no small labor to cover these +stains, and pin the moss securely in place with thorns. + +There were no windows in this chapel. A platform of hewed slabs had +supported the altar; and when the princess came down, and the benches +were replaced, she lifted one of these slabs, as she had often done +before, to look into the earthen-floored box which they made. Little +animals did not take refuge in the wind-beaten building. She often +wondered that it stood; though the light materials used by aboriginal +tribes, when anchored to the earth as this house was, toughly resisted +wind and weather. + +The Etchemin sat down on the ground, and her mistress on the platform +behind the chancel rail, when everything else was done, to make a +fresh rope of evergreen. The climbing and reaching and lifting had +heated their faces, and the cool salt air flowed in, refreshing +them. Their hands were pricked by the spiny foliage, but they labored +without complaint, in unbroken meditation. A monotonous low singing +of the Etchemin's kept company with the breathing of the sea. This +decking of the chapel acted like music on the Abenaqui girl. She +wanted to be quiet, to enjoy it. + +By the time they were ready to shut the door for the night the splash +of a rising tide could be heard. Fog obliterated the islands, and a +bleak gray twilight, like the twilights of winter, began to dim the +woods. + +"The sagamore has made a new law," said the Etchemin woman, as they +came in sight of the fort. + +Madockawando's daughter looked at the unguarded bastions, and the +chimneys of Pentegoet rising in a stack above the walls. + +"What new law has the sagamore made?" she inquired. + +"He says he will no more allow a man to put away his first and true +wife, for he is convinced that God does not love inconstancy in men." + +"The sagamore should have kept his first wife himself." + +"But he says he has not yet had her," answered the Etchemin woman, +glancing aside at the princess. "The sagamore will not see the end of +the sugar-making to-night." + +"Because he sits alone every night by his fire," said Madockawando's +daughter; "there is too much talk about the sagamore. It is the end of +the sugar-making that your mind is set on." + +"My husband is at the camps," said the Etchemin plaintively. "Besides, +I am very tired." + +"Rest yourself, therefore, by tramping far to wait on your husband +and keep his hands filled with warm sugar. I am tired, and I go to my +lodge." + +"But there is a feast in the camps, and nobody has thought of putting +a kettle on in the village. I will first get your meat ready." + +"No, I intend to observe a fast to-night. Go on to the camps, and +serve my family there." + +The Etchemin looked toward the darkening bay, and around them at those +thickening hosts of invisible terrors which are yet dreaded by more +enlightened minds than hers. + +"No," responded the princess, "I am not afraid. Go on to the camps +while you have the courage to be abroad alone." + +The Etchemin woman set off at a trot, her heavy body shaking, and +distance soon swallowed her. Madockawando's daughter stood still in +the humid dimness before turning aside to her lodge. Perhaps the ruddy +light which showed through the open fortress gate from the hall of +Pentegoet gave her a feeling of security. She knew a man was there; +and there was not a man anywhere else within half a league. It was the +last great night of sugar-making. Not even an Abenaqui woman or child +remained around the fort. Father Petit himself was at the camps to +restrain riot. It would be a hard patrol for him, moving from fire to +fire half the night. The master of Pentegoet rested very carelessly in +his hold. It was hardly a day's sail westward to the English post of +Pemaquid. Saint-Castin had really made ready for his people's spring +sowing and fishing with some anxiety for their undisturbed peace. +Pemaquid aggressed on him, and he seriously thought of fitting out a +ship and burning Pemaquid. In that time, as in this, the strong hand +upheld its own rights at any cost. + +The Abenaqui girl stood under the north-west bastion, letting +early night make its impressions on her. Her motionless figure, +in indistinct garments, could not be seen from the river; but she +discerned, rising up the path from the water, one behind the other, a +row of peaked hats. Beside the hats appeared gunstocks. She had never +seen any English, but neither her people nor the French showed such +tops, or came stealthily up from the boat landing under cover of +night. She did not stop to count them. Their business must be with +Saint-Castin. She ran along the wall. The invaders would probably see +her as she tried to close the gate; it had settled on its hinges, and +was too heavy for her. She thought of ringing the chapel bell; +but before any Abenaqui could reach the spot the single man in the +fortress must be overpowered. + +Saint-Castin stood on his bachelor hearth, leaning an arm on the +mantel. The light shone on his buckskin fringes, his dejected +shoulders, and his clean-shaven youthful face. A supper stood on the +table near him, where his Etchemin servants had placed it before they +trotted off to the camps. The high windows flickered, and there was +not a sound in the house except the low murmur or crackle of the +glowing backlog, until the door-latch clanked, and the door flew wide +and was slammed shut again. Saint-Castin looked up with a frown, which +changed to stupid astonishment. + +Madockawando's daughter seized him by the wrist. + +"Is there any way out of the fort except through the gate?" + +"None," answered Saint-Castin. + +"Is there no way of getting over the wall?" + +"The ladder can be used." + +"Run, then, to the ladder! Be quick." + +"What is the matter?" demanded Saint-Castin. + +The Abenaqui girl dragged on him with all her strength as he reached +for the iron door-latch. + +"Not that way--they will see you--they are coming from the river! Go +through some other door." + +"Who are coming?" + +Yielding himself to her will, Saint-Castin hurried with her from room +to room, and out through his kitchen, where the untidy implements of +his Etchemin slaves lay scattered about. They ran past the storehouse, +and he picked up a ladder and set it against the wall. + +"I will run back and ring the chapel bell," panted the girl. + +"Mount!" said Saint-Castin sternly; and she climbed the ladder, +convinced that he would not leave her behind. + +He sat on the wall and dragged the ladder up, and let it down on the +outside. As they both reached the ground, he understood what enemy had +nearly trapped him in his own fortress. + +"The doors were all standing wide," said a cautious nasal voice, +speaking English, at the other side of the wall. "Our fox hath barely +sprung from cover. He must be near." + +"Is not that the top of a ladder?" inquired another voice. + +At this there was a rush for the gate. Madockawando's daughter ran +like the wind, with Saint-Castin's hand locked in hers. She knew, by +night or day, every turn of the slender trail leading to the deserted +chapel. It came to her mind as the best place of refuge. They were cut +off from the camps, because they must cross their pursuers on the way. + +The lord of Pentegoet could hear bushes crackling behind him. The +position of the ladder had pointed the direction of the chase. He +laughed in his headlong flight. This was not ignominious running from +foes, but a royal exhilaration. He could run all night, holding the +hand that guided him. Unheeded branches struck him across the face. +He shook his hair back and flew light-footed, the sweep of the +magnificent body beside him keeping step. He could hear the tide boom +against the headland, and the swish of its recoiling waters. The girl +had her way with him. It did not occur to the officer of the Carignan +regiment that he should direct the escape, or in any way oppose the +will manifested for the first time in his favor. She felt for the +door of the, dark little chapel, and drew him in and closed it. His +judgment rejected the place, but without a word he groped at her side +across to the chancel rail. She lifted the loose slab of the platform, +and tried to thrust him into the earthen-floored box. + +"Hide yourself first," whispered Saint-Castin. + +They could hear feet running on the flinty approach. The chase was so +close that the English might have seen them enter the chapel. + +"Get in, get in!" begged the Abenaqui girl. "They will not hurt me." + +"Hide!" said Saint-Castin, thrusting her fiercely in. "Would they not +carry off the core of Saint-Castin's heart if they could?" + +She flattened herself on the ground under the platform, and gave him +all the space at her side that the contraction of her body left clear, +and he let the slab down carefully over their heads. They existed +almost without breath for many minutes. + +The wooden door-hinges creaked, and stumbling shins blundered against +the benches. + +"What is this place?" spoke an English voice. "Let some one take his +tinder-box and strike a light." + +"Have care," warned another. "We are only half a score in number. Our +errand was to kidnap Saint-Castin from his hold, not to get ourselves +ambushed by the Abenaquis." + +"We are too far from the sloop now," said a third. "We shall be cut +off before we get back, if we have not a care." + +"But he must be in here." + +"There are naught but benches and walls to hide him. This must be +an idolatrous chapel where the filthy savages congregate to worship +images." + +"Come out of the abomination, and let us make haste back to the boat. +He may be this moment marshaling all his Indians to surround us." + +"Wait. Let a light first be made." + +Saint-Castin and his companion heard the clicks of flint and steel; +then an instant's blaze of tinder made cracks visible over their +Heads. It died away, the hurried, wrangling men shuffling about. One +kicked the platform. + +"Here is a cover," he said; but darkness again enveloped them all. + +"Nothing is to be gained by searching farther," decided the majority. +"Did I not tell you this Saint-Castin will never be caught? The tide +will turn, and we shall get stranded among the rocks of that bay. It +is better to go back without Saint-Castin than to stay and be burnt by +his Abenaquis." + +"But here is a loose board in some flooring," insisted the discoverer +of the platform. "I will feel with the butt of my gun if there be +anything thereunder." + +The others had found the door, and were filing through it. + +"Why not with thy knife, man?" suggested one of them. + +"That is well thought of," he answered, and struck a half circle +under the boards. Whether in this flourish he slashed anything he only +learned by the stain on the knife, when the sloop was dropping down +the bay. But the Abenaqui girl knew what he had done, before the +footsteps ceased. She sat beside Saint-Castin on the platform, their +feet resting on the ground within the boards. No groan betrayed him, +but her arms went jealously around his body, and her searching fingers +found the cut in the buckskin. She drew her blanket about him with a +strength of compression that made it a ligature, and tied the corners +in a knot. + +"Is it deep, sagamore?" + +"Not deep enough," said Saint-Castin. "It will glue me to my buckskins +with a little blood, but it will not let me out of my troubles. I +wonder why I ran such a race from the English? They might have had me, +since they want me, and no one else does." + +"I will kiss you now, sagamore," whispered the Abenaqui girl, +trembling and weeping in the chaos of her broken reserve. "I cannot +any longer hold out against being your wife." + +She gave him her first kiss in the sacred darkness of the chapel, and +under the picture of the pierced heart. And it has since been recorded +of her that the Baroness de Saint-Castin was, during her entire +lifetime, the best worshiped wife in Acadia. + + + + +THE BEAUPORT LOUP-GAROU. + + +October dusk was bleak on the St. Lawrence, an east wind feeling along +the river's surface and rocking the vessels of Sir William Phips +on tawny rollers. It was the second night that his fleet sat there +inactive. During that day a small ship had approached Beauport +landing; but it stuck fast in the mud and became a mark for gathering +Canadians until the tide rose and floated it off. At this hour all +the habitants about Beauport except one, and even the Huron Indians +of Lorette, were safe inside the fort walls. Cattle were driven and +sheltered inland. Not a child's voice could be heard in the parish of +Beauport, and not a woman's face looked through windows fronting the +road leading up toward Montmorenci. Juchereau de Saint-Denis, the +seignior of Beauport, had taken his tenants with him as soon as the +New England invaders pushed into Quebec Basin. Only one man of the +muster hid himself and stayed behind, and he was too old for military +service. His seignior might lament him, but there was no woman to do +so. Gaspard had not stepped off his farm for years. The priest visited +him there, humoring a bent which seemed as inelastic as a vow. He had +not seen the ceremonial of high mass in the cathedral of Upper Town +since he was a young man. + +Gaspard's farm was fifteen feet wide and a mile long. It was one of +several strips lying between the St. Charles River and those heights +east of Beauport which rise to Montmorenci Falls. He had his front on +the greater stream, and his inland boundary among woods skirting the +mountain. He raised his food and the tobacco he smoked, and braided +his summer hats of straw and knitted his winter caps of wool. One suit +of well-fulled woolen clothes would have lasted a habitant a lifetime. +But Gaspard had been unlucky. He lost all his family by smallpox, and +the priest made him burn his clothes, and ruinously fit himself with +new. There was no use in putting savings in the stocking any longer, +however; the children were gone. He could only buy masses for them. +He lived alone, the neighbors taking that loving interest in him which +French Canadians bestow on one another. + +More than once Gaspard thought he would leave his farm and go into the +world. When Frontenac returned to take the paralyzed province in hand, +and fight Iroquois, and repair the mistakes of the last governor, +Gaspard put on his best moccasins and the red tasseled sash he wore +only at Christmas. "Gaspard is going to the fort," ran along the whole +row of Beauport houses. His neighbors waited for him. They all carried +their guns and powder for the purpose of firing salutes to Frontenac. +It was a grand day. But when Gaspard stepped out with the rest, his +countenance fell. He could not tell what ailed him. His friends coaxed +and pulled him; they gave him a little brandy. He sat down, and they +were obliged to leave him, or miss the cannonading and fireworks +themselves. From his own river front Gaspard saw the old lion's, ship +come to port, and, in unformed sentences, he reasoned then that a man +need not leave his place to take part in the world. + +Frontenac had not been back a month, and here was the New England +colony of Massachusetts swarming against New France. "They may carry +me away from my hearth feet first," thought Gaspard, "but I am not to +be scared away from it." + +Every night, before putting the bar across his door, the old habitant +went out to survey the two ends of the earth typified by the road +crossing his strip of farm. These were usually good moments for him. +He did not groan, as at dawn, that there were no children to relieve +him of labor. A noble landscape lifted on either hand from the hollow +of Beauport. The ascending road went on to the little chapel of Ste. +Anne de Beaupre, which for thirty years had been considered a shrine +in New France. The left hand road forded the St. Charles and climbed +the long slope to Quebec rock. + +Gaspard loved the sounds which made home so satisfying at autumn dusk. +Faint and far off he thought he could hear the lowing of his cow and +calf. To remember they were exiled gave him the pang of the unusual. +He was just chilled through, and therefore as ready for his own hearth +as a long journey could have made him, when a gray thing loped past in +the flinty dust, showing him sudden awful eyes and tongue of red fire. + +Gaspard clapped the house door to behind him and put up the bar. He +was not afraid of Phips and the fleet, of battle or night attack, but +the terror which walked in the darkness of sorcerers' times abjectly +bowed his old legs. + +"O good Ste. Anne, pray for us!" he whispered, using an invocation +familiar to his lips. "If loups-garous are abroad, also, what is to +become of this unhappy land?" + +There was a rattling knock on his door. It might be made by the +hilt of a sword; or did a loup-garou ever clatter paw against man's +dwelling? Gaspard climbed on his bed. + +"Father Gaspard! Father Gaspard! Are you within?" + +"Who is there?" + +"Le Moyne de Sainte-Helene. Don't you know my voice?" + +"My master Sainte-Helene, are you alone?" + +"Quite alone, except for my horse tied to your apple-tree. Let me in." + +The command was not to be slighted. Gaspard got down and admitted +his visitor. More than once had Sainte-Helene come to this hearth. He +appreciated the large fire, and sat down on a chair with heavy legs +which were joined by bars resting on the floor. + +"My hands tingle. The dust on these, flint roads is cold." + +"But Monsieur Sainte-Helene never walked with his hands in the dust," +protested Gaspard. The erect figure, bright with all the military +finery of that period, checked even his superstition by imposing +another kind of awe. + +"The New England men expect to make us bite it yet," responded +Sainte-Helene. "Saint-Denis is anxious about you, old man. Why don't +you go to the fort?" + +"I will go to-morrow," promised Gaspard, relaxing sheepishly from +terror. "These New Englanders have not yet landed, and one's own bed +is very comfortable in the cool nights." + +"I am used to sleeping anywhere." + +"Yes, monsieur, for you are young." + +"It would make you young again, Gaspard, to see Count Frontenac. I +wish all New France had seen him yesterday when he defied Phips +and sent the envoy back to the fleet. The officer was sweating; our +mischievous fellows had blinded him at the water's edge, and dragged +him, to the damage of his shins, over all the barricades of Mountain +Street. He took breath and courage when they turned him loose before +the governor,--though the sight of Frontenac startled him,--and handed +over the letter of his commandant requiring the surrender of Quebec." + +"My faith, Monsieur Sainte-Helene, did the governor blow him out of +the room?" + +"The man offered his open watch, demanding an answer within the hour. +The governor said, 'I do not need so much time. Go back at once to +your master and tell him I will answer this insolent message by the +mouths of my cannon.'" + +"By all the saints, that was a good word!" swore Gaspard, slapping his +knee with his wool cap. "Neither the Iroquois nor the Bostonnais will +run over us, now that the old governor is back. You heard him say it, +monsieur?" + +"I heard him, yes; for all his officers stood by. La Hontan was there, +too, and that pet of La Hontan's, Baron de Saint-Castin's half-breed +son, of Pentegoet." + +The martial note in the officer's voice sunk to contempt. Gaspard +was diverted from the governor to recognize, with the speechless +perception of an untrained mind, that jealousy which men established +in the world have of very young men. The male instinct of predominance +is fierce even in saints. Le Moyne de Sainte-Helene, though of the +purest stock in New France, had no prejudice against a half-breed. + +"How is Mademoiselle Clementine?" inquired Gaspard, arriving at the +question in natural sequence. "You will see her oftener now than when +you had to ride from the fort." + +The veins looked black in his visitor's face. "Ask the little +Saint-Castin. Boys stand under windows and talk to women now. Men have +to be reconnoitering the enemy." + +"Monsieur Anselm de Saint-Castin is the son of a good fighter," +observed Gaspard. "It is said the New England men hate his very name." + +"Anselm de Saint-Castin is barely eighteen years old." + +"It is the age of Mademoiselle Clementine." + +The old habitant drew his three-legged stool to the hearth corner, and +took the liberty of sitting down as the talk was prolonged. He noticed +the leaden color which comes of extreme weariness and depression +dulling Sainte-Helene's usually dark and rosy skin. Gaspard had heard +that this young man was quickest afoot, readiest with his weapon, +most untiring in the dance, and keenest for adventure of all the eight +brothers in his noble family. He had done the French arms credit +in the expedition to Hudson Bay and many another brush with their +enemies. The fire was burning high and clear, lighting rafters and +their curious brown tassels of smoked meat, and making the crucifix +over the bed shine out the whitest spot in a smoke-stained room. + +"Father Gaspard," inquired Sainte-Helene suddenly, "did you ever hear +of such a thing as a loup-garou?" + +The old habitant felt terror returning with cold feet up his back and +crowding its blackness upon him through the windows. Yet as he rolled +his eyes at the questioner he felt piqued at such ignorance of his +natural claims. + +"Was I not born on the island of Orleans, monsieur?" + +Everybody knew that the island of Orleans had been from the time of +its discovery the abode of loups-garous, sorcerers, and all those +uncanny cattle that run in the twilights of the world. The western +point of its wooded ridge, which parts the St. Lawrence for twenty-two +miles, from Beauport to Beaupre, lay opposite Gaspard's door. + +"Oh, you were born on the island of Orleans?" + +"Yes, monsieur," answered Gaspard, with the pride we take in +distinction of any kind. + +"But you came to live in Beauport parish." + +"Does a goat turn to a pig, monsieur, because you carry it to the +north shore?" + +"Perhaps so: everything changes." + +Sainte-Helene leaned forward, resting his arms on the arms of the +chair. He wrinkled his eyelids around central points of fire. + +"What is a loup-garou?" + +"Does monsieur not know? Monsieur Sainte-Helene surely knows that a +loup-garou is a man-wolf." + +"A man-wolf," mused the soldier. "But when a person is so afflicted, +is he a man or is he a wolf?" + +"It is not an affliction, monsieur; it is sorcery." + +"I think you are right. Then the wretched man-wolf is past being +prayed for?" + +"If one should repent"-- + +"I don't repent anything," returned Sainte-Helene; and Gaspard's jaw +relaxed, and he had the feeling of pin-feathers in his hair. "Is he a +man or is he a wolf?" repeated the questioner. + +"The loup-garou is a man, but he takes the form of a wolf." + +"Not all the time?" + +"No, monsieur, not all the time?" + +"Of course not." + +Gaspard experienced with us all this paradox: that the older we grow, +the more visible becomes the unseen. In childhood the external senses +are sharp; but maturity fuses flesh and spirit. He wished for a +priest, desiring to feel the arm of the Church around him. It was +late October,--a time which might be called the yearly Sabbath of +loups-garous. + +"And what must a loup-garou do with himself?" pursued Sainte-Helene. +"I should take to the woods, and sit and lick my chaps, and bless my +hide that I was for the time no longer a man." + +"Saints! monsieur, he goes on a chase. He runs with his tongue lolled +out, and his eyes red as blood." + +"What color are my eyes, Gaspard?" + +The old Frenchman sputtered, "Monsieur, they are very black." + +Sainte-Helene drew his hand across them. + +"It must be your firelight that is so red. I have been seeing as +through a glass of claret ever since I came in." + +Gaspard moved farther into the corner, the stool legs scraping the +floor. Though every hair on his body crawled with superstition, he +could not suspect Le Moyne de Sainte-Helene. Yet the familiar face +altered strangely while he looked at it: the nose sunk with sudden +emaciation, and the jaws lengthened to a gaunt muzzle. There was a +crouching forward of the shoulders, as if the man were about to drop +on his hands and feet. Gaspard had once fallen down unconscious in +haying time; and this recalled to him the breaking up and shimmering +apart of a solid landscape. The deep cleft mouth parted, lifting first +at the corners and showing teeth, then widening to the utterance of a +low howl. + +Gaspard tumbled over the stool, and, seizing it by a leg, held it +between himself and Sainte-Helene. + +"What is the matter, Gaspard?" exclaimed the officer, clattering his +scabbard against the chair as he rose, his lace and plumes and ribbons +stirring anew. Many a woman in the province had not as fine and +sensitive a face as the one confronting the old habitant. + +Gaspard stood back against the wall, holding the stool with its legs +bristling towards Sainte-Helene. He shook from head to foot. + +"Have I done anything to frighten you? What is the matter with me, +Gaspard, that people should treat me as they do? It is unbearable! I +take the hardest work, the most dangerous posts; and they are against +me--against me." + +The soldier lifted his clenched fists, and turned his back on the old +man. The fire showed every curve of his magnificent stature. Wind, +diving into the chimney, strove against the sides for freedom, and +startled the silence with its hollow rumble. + +"I forded the St. Charles when the tide was rising, to take you back +with me to the fort. I see you dread the New Englanders less than you +do me. She told her father she feared you were ill. But every one is +well," said Sainte-Helene, lowering his arms and making for the door. +And it sounded like an accusation against the world. + +He was scarcely outside in the wind, though still holding the door, +when Gaspard was ready to put up the bar. + +"Good-night, old man." + +"Good-night, monsieur, good-night, good-night!" called Gaspard, with +quavering dispatch. He pushed the door, but Sainte-Helene looked +around its edge. Again the officer's face had changed, pinched by the +wind, and his eyes were full of mocking laughter. + +"I will say this for a loup-garou, Father Gaspard: a loup-garou may +have a harder time in this world than the other beasts, but he is no +coward; he can make a good death." + +Ashes spun out over the floor, and smoke rolled up around the joists, +as Sainte-Helene shut himself into the darkness. Not satisfied with +barring the door, the old habitant pushed his chest against it. To +this he added the chair and stool, and barricaded it further with his +night's supply of firewood. + +"Would I go over the ford of the St. Charles with him?" Gaspard +hoarsely whispered as he crossed himself. "If the New England men were +burning my house, I would not go. And how can a loup-garou get over +that water? The St. Charles is blessed; I am certain it is blessed. +Yet he talked about fording it like any Christian." + +The old habitant was not clear in his mind what should be done, except +that it was no business of his to meddle with one of Frontenac's great +officers and a noble of New France. But as a measure of safety for +himself he took down his bottle of holy water, hanging on the wall for +emergencies, and sprinkled every part of his dwelling. + +Next morning, however, when the misty autumn light was on the hills, +promising a clear day and penetrating sunshine, as soon as he awoke he +felt ashamed of the barricade, and climbed out of bed to remove it. + +"The time has at last come when I am obliged to go to the fort," +thought Gaspard, groaning. "Governor Frontenac will not permit any +sorcery in his presence. The New England men might do me no harm, but +I cannot again face a loup-garou." + +He dressed himself accordingly, and, taking his gathered coin from its +hiding-place, wrapped every piece separately in a bit of rag, slid it +into his deep pocket, and sewed the pocket up. Then he cut off enough +bacon to toast on the raked-out coals for his breakfast, and hid +the rest under the floor. There was no fastening on the outside of +Gaspard's house. He was obliged to latch the door, and leave it at the +mercy of the enemy. + +Nothing was stirring in the frosted world. He could not yet see +the citadel clearly, or the heights of Levis; but the ascent to +Montmorenci bristled with naked trees, and in the stillness he could +hear the roar of the falls. Gaspard ambled along his belt of ground +to take a last look. It was like a patchwork quilt: a square of wheat +stubble showed here, and a few yards of brown prostrate peavines +showed there; his hayfield was less than a stone's throw long; and +his garden beds, in triangles and sections of all shapes, filled the +interstices of more ambitious crops. + +He had nearly reached the limit of the farm, and entered his neck of +woods, when the breathing of a cow trying to nip some comfort from the +frosty sod delighted his ear. The pretty milker was there, with her +calf at her side. Gaspard stroked and patted them. Though the New +Englanders should seize them for beef, he could not regret they were +wending home again. That invisible cord binding him to his own place, +which had wrenched his vitals as it stretched, now drew him back like +fate. He worked several hours to make his truants a concealing corral +of hay and stakes and straw and stumps at a place where a hill spring +threaded across his land, and then returned between his own boundaries +to the house again. + +The homesick zest of one who has traveled made his lips and unshaven +chin protrude, as he smelled the good interior. There was the wooden +crane. There was his wife's old wheel. There was the sacred row of +children's snow-shoes, which the priest had spared from burning. One +really had to leave home to find out what home was. + +But a great hubbub was beginning in Phips's fleet. Fifes were +screaming, drums were beating, and shouts were lifted and answered by +hearty voices. After their long deliberation, the New Englanders had +agreed upon some plan of attack. Gaspard went down to his landing, and +watched boatload follow boatload, until the river was swarming with +little craft pulling directly for Beauport. He looked uneasily toward +Quebec. The old lion in the citadel hardly waited for Phips to shift +position, but sent the first shot booming out to meet him. The New +England cannon answered, and soon Quebec height and Levis palisades +rumbled prodigious thunder, and the whole day was black with smoke and +streaked with fire. + +Gaspard took his gun, and trotted along his farm to the cover of the +trees. He had learned to fight in the Indian fashion; and Le Moyne +de Sainte-Helene fought the same way. Before the boatloads of New +Englanders had all waded through tidal mud, and ranged themselves +by companies on the bank, Sainte-Helene, who had been dispatched by +Frontenac at the first drumbeat on the river, appeared, ready to +check them, from the woods of Beauport. He had, besides three hundred +sharpshooters, the Lorette Hurons and the muster of Beauport militia, +all men with homes to save. + +The New Englanders charged them, a solid force, driving the +light-footed bush fighters. But it was like driving the wind, which +turns, and at some unexpected quarter is always ready for you again. + +This long-range fighting went on until nightfall, when the English +commander, finding that his tormentors had disappeared as suddenly as +they had appeared in the morning, tried to draw his men together at +the St. Charles ford, where he expected some small vessels would +be sent to help him across. He made a night camp here, without any +provisions. + +Gaspard's house was dark, like the deserted Beauport homes all that +night; yet one watching might have seen smoke issuing from his chimney +toward the stars. The weary New England men did not forage through +these places, nor seek shelter in them. It was impossible to know +where Indians and Frenchmen did not lie in ambush. On the other side +of the blankets which muffled Gaspard's windows, however, firelight +shone with its usual ruddiness, showing the seignior of Beauport +prostrate on his old tenant's bed. Juchereau de Saint-Denis was +wounded, and La Hontan, who was with the skirmishers, and Gaspard had +brought him in the dark down to the farmhouse as the nearest hospital. +Baron La Hontan was skillful in surgery; most men had need to be in +those days. He took the keys, and groped into the seigniory house for +the linen chest, and provided lint and bandages, and brought cordials +from the cellar; making his patient as comfortable as a wounded man +who was a veteran in years could be made in the first fever and thirst +of suffering. La Hontan knew the woods, and crept away before dawn to +a hidden bivouac of Hurons and militia; wiry and venturesome in his +age as he had been in his youth. But Saint-Denis lay helpless and +partially delirious in Gaspard's house all Thursday, while the +bombardment of Quebec made the earth tremble, and the New England +ships were being splintered by Frontenac's cannon; while Sainte-Helene +and his brother themselves manned the two batteries of Lower Town, +aiming twenty-four-pound balls directly against the fleet; while they +cut the cross of St. George from the flagstaff of the admiral, and +Frenchmen above them in the citadel rent the sky with joy; while the +fleet, ship by ship, with shattered masts and leaking hulls, drew off +from the fight, some of them leaving cable and anchor, and drifting +almost in pieces; while the land force, discouraged, sick, and hungry, +waited for the promised help which never came. + +Thursday night was so cold that the St. Charles was skimmed with ice, +and hoarfrost lay white on the fields. But Saint-Denis was in the fire +of fever, and Gaspard, slipping like a thief, continually brought him +fresh water from the spring. + +He lay there on Friday, while the land force, refreshed by half +rations sent from the almost wrecked fleet, made a last stand, +fighting hotly as they were repulsed from New France. It was twilight +on Friday when Sainte-Helene was carried into Gaspard's house and +laid on the floor. Gaspard felt emboldened to take the blankets from +a window and roll them up to place under the soldier's head. Many +Beauport people were even then returning to their homes. The land +force did not reembark until the next night, and the invaders did not +entirely withdraw for four days; but Quebec was already yielding up +its refugees. A disabled foe--though a brave and stubborn one--who had +his ships to repair, if he would not sink in them, was no longer to be +greatly dreaded. + +At first the dusk room was packed with Hurons and Montreal men. This +young seignior Sainte-Helene was one of the best leaders of his time. +They were indignant that the enemy's last scattering shots had picked +him off. The surgeon and La Hontan put all his followers out of the +door,--he was scarcely conscious that they stood by him,--and left, +beside his brother Longueuil, only one young man who had helped carry +him in. + +Saint-Denis, on the bed, saw him with the swimming eyes of fever. +The seignior of Beauport had hoped to have Sainte-Helene for his +son-in-law. His little Clementine, the child of his old age,--it was +after all a fortunate thing that she was shut for safety in Quebec, +while her father depended for care on Gaspard. Saint-Denis tried to +see Sainte-Helene's face; but the surgeon's helpers constantly balked +him, stooping and rising and reaching for things. And presently a face +he was not expecting to see grew on the air before him. + +Clementine's foot had always made a light click, like a sheep's on a +naked floor. But Saint-Denis did not hear her enter. She touched her +cheek to her father's. It was smooth and cold from the October air. +Clementine's hair hung in large pale ringlets; for she was an ashen +maid, gray-toned and subdued; the roughest wind never ruffled her +smoothness. She made her father know that she had come with Beauport +women and men from Quebec, as soon as any were allowed to leave the +fort, to escort her. She leaned against the bed, soft as a fleece, +yielding her head to her father's painful fondling. There was no +heroism in Clementine; but her snug domestic ways made him happy in +his house. + +"Sainte-Helene is wounded," observed Saint-Denis. + +She cast a glance of fright over her shoulder. + +"Did you not see him when you came in?" + +"I saw some one; but it is to you that I have been wishing to come +since Wednesday night." + +"I shall get well; they tell me it is not so bad with me. But how is +it with Sainte-Helene?" + +"I do not know, father." + +"Where is young Saint-Castin? Ask him." + +"He is helping the surgeon, father." + +"Poor child, how she trembles! I would thou hadst stayed in the fort, +for these sights are unfit for women. New France can as ill spare him +as we can, Clementine. Was that his groan?" + +She cowered closer to the bed, and answered, "I do not know." + +Saint-Denis tried to sit up in bed, but was obliged to resign himself, +with a gasp, to the straw pillows. + +Night pressed against the unblinded window. A stir, not made by the +wind, was heard at the door, and Frontenac, and Frontenac's Recollet +confessor, and Sainte-Helene's two brothers from the citadel, came +into the room. The governor of New France was imposing in presence. +Perhaps there was no other officer in the province to whom he would +have galloped in such haste from Quebec. It was a tidal moment in his +affairs, and Frontenac knew the value of such moments better than +most men. But Sainte-Helene did not know the governor was there. The +Recollet father fell on his knees and at once began his office. + +Longueuil sat down on Gaspard's stool and covered his face against +the wall. He had been hurt by a spent bullet, and one arm needed +bandaging, but he said nothing about it, though the surgeon was now at +liberty, standing and looking at a patient for whom nothing could be +done. The sterner brothers watched, also, silent, as Normans taught +themselves to be in trouble. The sons of Charles Le Moyne carried his +name and the lilies of France from the Gulf of St. Lawrence to the +Gulf of Mexico. + +Anselm de Saint-Castin had fought two days alongside the man who lay +dying. The boy had an ardent face, like his father's. He was sorry, +with the skin-deep commiseration of youth for those who fall, whose +falling thins the crowded ranks of competition. But he was not for a +moment unconscious of the girl hiding her head against her father from +the sight of death. The hope of one man forever springing beside the +grave of another must work sadness in God. Yet Sainte-Helene did not +know any young supplanter was there. He did not miss or care for +the fickle vanity of applause; he did not torment himself with the +spectres of the mind, or feel himself shrinking with the littleness of +jealousy; he did not hunger for a love that was not in the world, or +waste a Titan's passion on a human ewe any more. For him, the aching +and bewilderment, exaltations and self-distrusts, animal gladness and +subjection to the elements, were done. + +Clementine's father beckoned to the boy, and put her in his care. + +"Take her home to the women," Saint-Denis whispered. "She is not used +to war and such sight as these. And bid some of the older ones stay +with her." + +Anselm and Clementine went out, their hands just touching as he led +her in wide avoidance of the figure on the floor. Sainte-Helene +did not know the boy and girl left him, for starlight, for silence +together, treading the silvered earth in one cadenced step, as +he awaited that moment when the solitary spirit finds its utmost +loneliness. + +Gaspard also went out. When the governor sat in his armchair, and his +seignior lay on the bed, and Le Moyne de Sainte-Helene was stretched +that way on the floor, it could hardly be decent for an old habitant +to stand by, even cap in hand. Yet he could scarcely take his eyes +from the familiar face as it changed in phosphorescent light. +The features lifted themselves with firm nobility, expressing an +archangel's beauty. Sainte-Helene's lips parted, and above the patter +of the reciting Recollet the watchers were startled by one note like +the sigh of a wind-harp. + +The Montreal militia, the Lorette Hurons, and Beauport men were still +thronging about, overflowing laterally upon the other farms. They +demanded word of the young seignior, hushing their voices. Some of +them had gone into Gaspard's milk cave and handed out stale milk for +their own and their neighbors' refreshment. A group were sitting on +the crisp ground, with a lantern in their midst, playing some game; +their heads and shoulders moving with an alacrity objectless to +observers, so closely was the light hemmed in. + +Gaspard reached his gateway with the certainty of custom. He looked +off at both ends of the world. The starlit stretch of road was almost +as deserted as when Quebec shut in the inhabitants of Beauport. From +the direction of Montmorenci he saw a gray thing come loping down, +showing eyes and tongue of red fire. He screamed an old man's scream, +pointing to it, and the cry of "Loup-garou!" brought all Beauport men +to their feet. The flints clicked. It was a time of alarms. Two shots +were fired together, and an under officer sprung across the fence of a +neighboring farm to take command of the threatened action. + +The camp of sturdy New Englanders on the St. Charles was hid by a +swell in the land. At the outcry, those Frenchmen around the lantern +parted company, some recoiling backwards, and others scrambling +to seize their guns. But one caught up the lantern, and ran to the +struggling beast in the road. + +Gaspard pushed into the gathering crowd, and craned himself to see the +thing, also. He saw a gaunt dog, searching yet from face to face for +some lost idol, and beating the flinty world with a last thump of +propitiation. + +Frontenac opened the door and stood upon the doorstep. His head almost +reached the overhanging straw thatch. + +"What is the alarm, my men?" + +"Your excellency," the subaltern answered, "it was nothing but a dog. +It came down from Montmorenci, and some of the men shot it." + +"Le Moyne de Sainte-Helene," declared Frontenac, lowering his plumed +hat, "has just died for New France." + + * * * * * + +Gaspard stayed out on his river front until he felt half frozen. The +old habitant had not been so disturbed and uncomfortable since his +family died of smallpox. Phips's vessels lay near the point of Orleans +Island, a few portholes lighting their mass of gloom, while two red +lanterns aloft burned like baleful eyes at the lost coast of Canada. +Nothing else showed on the river. The distant wall of Levis palisades +could be discerned, and Quebec stood a mighty crown, its gems all +sparkling. Behind Gaspard, Beauport was alive. The siege was virtually +over, and he had not set foot off his farm during Phips's invasion of +New France. He did not mind sleeping on the floor, with his heels to +the fire. But there were displacements and changes and sorrows which +he did mind. + +"However," muttered the old man, and it was some comfort to the vague +aching in his breast to formulate one fact as solid as the heights +around, "it is certain that there are loups-garous." + + + + +THE MILL AT PETIT CAP + + +August night air, sweet with a half salt breath from the St. Lawrence, +met the miller of San Joachim as he looked out; but he bolted the +single thick door of the mill, and cast across it into a staple a +hook as long as his body and as thick as his arm. At any alarm in the +village he must undo these fastenings, and receive the refugees from +Montgomery; yet he could not sleep without locking the door. So all +that summer he had slept on a bench in the mill basement, to be ready +for the call. + +All the parishes on the island of Orleans, and on each side of the +river, quite to Montmorenci Falls, where Wolfe's army was encamped, +had been sacked by that evil man, Captain Alexander Montgomery, whom +the English general himself could hardly restrain. San Joachim du +Petit Cap need not hope to escape. It was really Wolfe's policy to +harry the country which in that despairing summer of 1759 he saw no +chance of conquering. + +The mill was grinding with a shuddering noise which covered all +country night sounds. But so accustomed was the miller to this lullaby +that he fell asleep on his chaff cushion directly, without his usual +review of the trouble betwixt La Vigne and himself. He was sensitive +to his neighbors' claims, and the state of the country troubled him, +but he knew he could endure La Vigne's misfortunes better than any +other man's. + +Loopholes in the hoary stone walls of the basement were carefully +covered, but a burning dip on the hearth betrayed them within. There +was a deep blackened oven built at right angles to the fireplace in +the south wall. The stairway rose like a giant's ladder to the vast +dimness overhead. No other such fortress-mill was to be found between +Cap Tourmente and the citadel, or indeed anywhere on the St. Lawrence. +It had been built not many years before by the Seminaire priests of +Quebec for the protection and nourishment of their seigniory, that +huge grant of rich land stretching from Beaupre to Cap Tourmente, +bequeathed to the church by the first bishop of Canada. + +The miller suddenly dashed up with a shout. He heard his wife scream +above the rattle of the mill, and stumbling over basement litter he +unstopped a loophole and saw the village already mounting in flames. + +The mill door's iron-clamped timbers were beaten by a crowd of +entreating hands, and he tore back the fastenings and dragged his +neighbors in. Children, women, men, fell past him on the basement +floor, and he screamed for help to hold the door against Montgomery's +men. The priest was the last one to enter and the first to set a +shoulder with the miller's. A discharge of firearms from without +made lightning in the dim inclosure, and the cure, Father Robineau de +Portneuf, reminded his flock of the guns they had stored in the mill +basement. Loopholes were soon manned, and the enemy were driven back +from the mill door. The roaring torch of each cottage thatch showed +them in the redness of their uniforms,--good marks for enraged +refugees; so they drew a little farther westward still, along the hot +narrow street of San Joachim du Petit Cap. + +At an unoccupied loophole Father Robineau watched his chapel burning, +with its meagre enrichments, added year by year. But this was nothing, +when his eye dropped to the two or three figures lying face downward +on the road. He turned himself toward the wailing of a widow and a +mother. + +The miller's wife was coming downstairs with a candle, leaving her +children huddled in darkness at the top. Those two dozen or more +people whom she could see lifting dazed looks at her were perhaps +of small account in the province; but they were her friends and +neighbors, and bounded her whole experience of the world, except that +anxiety of having her son Laurent with Montcalm's militia. The dip +light dropped tallow down her petticoat, and even unheeded on one bare +foot. + +"My children," exhorted Father Robineau through the wailing of +bereaved women, "have patience." The miller's wife stooped and passed +a hand across a bright head leaning against the stair side. + +"Thy mother is safe, Angele?" + +"Oh, yes, Madame Sandeau." + +"Thy father and the children are safe?" + +"Oh, yes," testified the miller, passing towards the fireplace, "La +Vigne and all his are within. I counted them." + +"The saints be praised," said his wife. + +"Yes, La Vigne got in safely," added the miller, "while that excellent +Jules Martin, our good neighbor, lies scalped out there in the +road."[1] + +"He does not know what he is saying, Angele," whispered his wife to +the weeping girl. But the miller snatched the candle from the hearth +as if he meant to fling his indignation with it at La Vigne. His +worthy act, however, was to light the sticks he kept built in the +fireplace for such emergency. A flame arose, gradually revealing +the black earthen floor, the swarm of refugees, and even the +tear-suspending lashes of little children's eyes. + +La Vigne appeared, sitting with his hands in his hair. And the +miller's wife saw there was a strange young demoiselle among the women +of the cote, trying to quiet them. She had a calm dark beauty and an +elegance of manner unusual to the provinces, and even Father Robineau +beheld her with surprise. + +"Mademoiselle, it is unfortunate that you should be in Petit Cap at +this time," said the priest. + +"Father, I count myself fortunate," she answered, "if no worse +calamity has befallen me. My father is safe within here. Can you tell +me anything about my husband, Captain De Mattissart, of the Languedoc +regiment, with General Montcalm?" + +"Madame, I never saw your husband." + +"He was to meet me with escort at Petit Cap. We landed on a little +point, secretly, with no people at all, and my father would have +returned in his sailboat, but my husband did not meet us. These +English must have cut him off, father." + +"These are not times in which a woman should stir abroad," said the +priest. + +"Monsieur the cure, there is no such comfortable doctrine for a man +with a daughter," said a figure at the nearest loophole, turning and +revealing himself by face and presence a gentilhomme. "Especially a +daughter married to a soldier. I am Denys of Bonaventure, galloping +hither out of Acadia at her word of command." + +The priest made him a gesture of respect and welcome. + +"One of the best men in Acadia should be of advantage to us here. But +I regret madame's exposure. You were not by yourselves attempting to +reach Montcalm's camp?" + +"How do I know, monsieur the cure? My daughter commanded this +expedition." Denys of Bonaventure shrugged his shoulders and spread +his palms with a smile. + +"We were going to knock at the door of the cure of Petit Cap," said +the lady. "There was nothing else for us to do; but the English +appeared." + +Successive shots at the loopholes proved that the English had not yet +disappeared. Denys seized his gun again, and turned to the defense, +urging that the children and women be sent out of the way of balls. + +Father Robineau, on his part, gave instant command to the miller's +wife, and she climbed the stairs again, heading a long line of +distressed neighbors. + +The burrs were in the second story, and here the roaring of the mill +took possession of all the shuddering air. Every massive joist half +growing from dimness overhead was hung with ghostly shreds of cobweb; +and on the grayish whiteness of the floor the children's naked soles +cut out oblongs dotted with toe-marks. + +Mother Sandeau made her way first to an inclosed corner, and looked +around to invite the attention of her followers. Such violence had +been done to her stolid habits that she seemed to need the sight of +her milk-room to restore her to intelligent action. The group was +left in half darkness while she thrust her candle into the milk-room, +showing its orderly array of flowered bowls amidst moist coolness. +Here was a promise of sustenance to people dependent for the next +mouthful of food. "It will last a few days, even if the cows be driven +off and killed!" said the miller's good wife. + +But there was the Acadian lady to be first thought of. Neighbors could +be easily spread out on the great floor, with rolls of bedding. Her +own oasis of homestead stood open, showing a small fireplace hollowed +in one wall, two feet above the floor; table and heavy chairs; and +sleeping rooms beyond. Yet none of these things were good enough to +offer such a stranger. + +"Take no thought about me, good friend," said the girl, noticing +Mother Sandeau's anxiously creased face. "I shall presently go back to +my father." + +"But, no," exclaimed the miller's wife, "the priest forbids women +below, and there is my son's bridal room upstairs with even a +dressing-table in it. I only held back on account of Angele La Vigne," +she added to comprehending neighbors, "but Angele will attend to the +lady there." + +"Angele will gladly attend to the lady anywhere," spoke out Angele's +mother, with a resentment of her child's position which ruin could not +crush. "It is the same as if marriage was never talked of between your +son Laurent and her." + +"Yes, neighbor, yes," said the miller's wife appeasingly. It was not +her fault that a pig had stopped the marriage. She gave her own +candle to Angele, with a motherly look. The girl had a pink and golden +prettiness unusual among habitantes. Though all flush was gone out of +her skin under the stress of the hour, she retained the innocent clear +pallor of an infant. Angele hurried to straighten her disordered dress +before taking the candle, and then led Madame De Mattissart up the +next flight of stairs. + +The mill's noise had forced talkers to lift their voices, and it now +half dulled the clamp of habitante shoes below, and the whining of +children longing again for sleep. Huge square wooden hoppers were +shaking down grain, and the two or three square sashes in the +thickness of front wall let in some light from the burning cote. + +The building's mighty stone hollows were as cool as the dew-pearled +and river-vapored landscape outside. Occasional shots from below kept +reverberating upward through two more floors overhead. + +Laurent's bridal apartment was of new boards built like a deck cabin +at one side of the third story. It was hard for Angele to throw open +the door of this sacred little place which she had expected to +enter as a bride, and the French officer's young wife understood it, +restraining the girl's hand. + +"Stop, my child. Let us not go in. I came up here simply to quiet the +others." + +"But you were to rest in this chamber, madame." + +"Do you think I can rest when I do not know whether I am wife or +widow?" + +The young girls looked at each other with piteous eyes. + +"This is a terrible time, madame." + +"It will, however, pass by, in some fashion." + +"But what shall I do for you, madame? Where will you sit? Is there +nothing you require?" + +"Yes, I am thirsty. Is there not running water somewhere in this +mill?" + +"There is the flume-chamber overhead," said Angele. "I will set the +light here, and go down for a cup, madame." + +"Do not. We will go to the flume-chamber together. My hands, my +throat, my eyes burn. Go on, Angele, show me the way." + +Laurent's room, therefore, was left in darkness, holding unseen its +best furniture, the family's holiday clothes of huge grained flannel, +and the little yellow spinning-wheel, with its pile of unspun wool +like forgotten snow. + +In the fourth story, as below, deep-set swinging windows had small +square panes, well dusted with flour. Nothing broke the monotony of +wall except a row of family snow-shoes. The flume-chamber, inclosed +from floor to ceiling, suggested a grain's sprouting here and there in +its upright humid boards. + +As the two girls glanced around this grim space, they were startled by +silence through the building, for the burrs ceased to work. Feet and +voices indeed stirred below, but the sashes no longer rattled. Then a +tramping seemed following them up, and Angele dragged the young lady +behind a stone pillar, and blew out their candle. + +"What are you doing?" demanded Madame De Mattissart in displeasure. +"If the door has been forced, should we desert our fathers?" + +"It is not that," whispered Angele. And before she could give any +reason for her impulse, the miller's head and light appeared above the +stairs. It was natural enough for Angele La Vigne to avoid Laurent's +father. What puzzled her was to see her own barefooted father creeping +after the miller, his red wool night-cap pulled over dejected brows. + +These good men had been unable to meet without quarreling since the +match between Laurent and Angele was broken off, on account of a +pig which Father La Vigne would not add to her dower. Angele had a +blanket, three dishes, six tin plates, and a kneading-trough; at +the pig her father drew the line, and for a pig Laurent's father +contended. But now all the La Vigne pigs were roasted or scattered, +Angele's dower was destroyed, and what had a ruined habitant to say to +the miller of Petit Cap? + +Father Robineau had stopped the mill because its noise might cover +attacks. As the milder ungeared his primitive machinery, he had +thought of saving water in the flume-chamber. There were wires and +chains for shutting off its escape. + +He now opened a door in the humid wall and put his candle over the +clear, dark water. The flume no longer furnished a supply, and he +stared open-lipped, wondering if the enemy had meddled with his +water-gate in the upland. + +The flume, at that time the most ambitious wooden channel on the north +shore, supported on high stilts of timber, dripped all the way from +a hill stream to the fourth story of Petit Cap mill. The miller had +watched it escape burning thatches, yet something had happened at the +dam. Shreds of moss, half floating and half moored, reminded him to +close the reservoir, and he had just moved the chains when La Vigne +startled him by speaking at his ear. + +The miller recoiled, but almost in the action his face recovered +itself. He wore a gray wool night-cap, and its tassel hung down over +one lifted eyebrow. + +"Pierre Sandeau, my friend," opened La Vigne with a whimper, "I +followed you up here to weep with you." + +"You did well," replied the miller bluntly, "for I am a ruined man +with the parish to feed, unless the Seminaire fathers take pity on +me." + +"Yes, you have lost more than all of us," said La Vigne. + +"I am not the man to measure losses and exult over my neighbors," +declared the miller; "but how many pigs would you give to your girl's +dower now, Guillaume?" + +"None at all, my poor Pierre. At least she is not a widow." + +"Nor ever likely to be now, since she has no dower to make her a +wife." + +"How could she be a wife without a husband? Taunt me no more about +that pig. I tell you it is worse with you: you have no son." + +"What do you mean? I have half a dozen." + +"But Laurent is shot." + +"Laurent--shot?" whispered the miller, relaxing his flabby face, and +letting the candle sink downward until it spread their shadows on the +floor. + +"Yes, my friend," whimpered La Vigne. "I saw him through my window +when the alarm was given. He was doubtless coming to save us all, for +an officer was with him. Jules Martin's thatch was just fired. It was +bright as sunrise against the hill, and the English saw our Laurent +and his officer, no doubt, for they shot them down, and I saw it +through my back window." + +The miller sunk to his knees, and set the candle on the floor; La +Vigne approached and mingled night-cap tassels and groans with him. + +"Oh, my son! And I quarreled with thee, Guillaume, about a pig, and +made the children unhappy." + +"But I was to blame for that, Pierre," wept La Vigne, "and now we have +neither pig nor son!" + +"Perhaps Montgomery's men have scalped him;" the miller pulled the +night-cap from his own head and threw it on the floor in helpless +wretchedness. + +La Vigne uttered a low bellow in response, and they fell upon each +other's necks and were about to lament together in true Latin fashion, +when the wife of Montcalm's officer called to them. + +She stood out from the shadow of the stone column, dead to all +appearances, yet animate, and trying to hold up Angele whose whole +body lapsed downward in half unconsciousness. "Bring water," demanded +Madame De Mattissart. + +And seeing who had overheard the dreadful news, La Vigne ran to the +flume-chamber, and the miller scrambled up and reached over him to dip +the first handful. Both stooped within the door, both recoiled, and +both raised a yell which echoed among high rafters in the attic above. +The miller thought Montgomery's entire troop were stealing into the +mill through the flume; for a man's legs protruded from the opening +and wriggled with such vigor that his body instantly followed and he +dropped into the water. + +His beholders seized and dragged him out upon the floor; but he +threw off their hands, sprang astride of the door-sill, and stretched +himself to the flume mouth to help another man out of it. + +La Vigne ran downstairs shrieking for the priest, as if he had seen +witchcraft. But the miller stood still, with the candle flaring on the +floor behind him, not sure of his son Laurent in militia uniform, but +trembling with some hope. + +It was Madame De Mattissart's cry to her husband which confirmed the +miller's senses. She knew the young officer through the drenching +and raggedness of his white and gold uniform; she understood how two +wounded men could creep through any length of flume, from which a +miller's son would know how to turn off the water. She had no need to +ask what their sensations were, sliding down that slimy duct, or how +they entered it without being seen by the enemy. Let villagers talk +over such matters, and shout and exclaim when they came to hear this +strange thing. It was enough that her husband had met her through +every danger, and that he was able to stand and receive her in his +arms. + +Laurent's wound was serious. After all his exertions he fainted; but +Angele took his head upon her knee, and the fathers and mothers and +neighbors swarmed around him, and Father Robineau did him doctor's +service. Every priest then on the St. Lawrence knew how to dress +wounds as well as bind up spirits. + +Denys of Bonaventure, notwithstanding the excitement overhead, kept +men at the basement loopholes until Montgomery had long withdrawn and +returned to camp. + +He then felt that he could indulge himself with a sight of his +son-in-law, and tiptoed up past the colony of women and children whom +the priest had just driven again to their rest on the second floor; +past that sacred chamber on the third floor, and on up to the flume +loft. There Monsieur De Bonaventure paused, with his head just above +the boards, like a pleasant-faced sphinx. + +"Accept my salutations, Captain De Mattissart," he said laughing. +"I am told that you and this young militia-man floated down the +mill-stream into this mill, with the French flag waving over your +heads, to the no small discouragement of the English. Quebec will +never be taken, monsieur." + +Long ago those who found shelter in the mill dispersed to rebuild +their homes under a new order of things, or wedded like Laurent and +Angele, and lived their lives and died. Yet, witnessing to all these +things, the old mill stands to-day at Petit Cap, huge and cavernous; +with its oasis of home, its milk-room, its square hoppers and +flume-chamber unchanged. Daylight refuses to follow you into the +blackened basement; and the shouts of Montgomery's sacking horde seem +to linger in the mighty hollows overhead. + + +[Footnote 1: Wolfe forbade such barbarities, but Montgomery did not +always obey. It was practiced on both sides.] + + + + +WOLFE'S COVE. + + +The cannon was for the time silent, the gunners being elsewhere, but a +boy's voice called from the bastion:-- + +"Come out here, mademoiselle. I have an apple for you." + +"Where did you get an apple?" replied a girl's voice. + +"Monsieur Bigot gave it to me. He has everything the king's stores +will buy. His slave was carrying a basketful." + +"I do not like Monsieur Bigot. His face is blotched, and he kisses +little girls." + +"His apples are better than his manners," observed the boy, waiting, +knife in hand, for her to come and see that the division was a fair +one. + +She tiptoed out from the gallery of the commandant's house, the wind +blowing her curls back from her shoulders. A bastion of Fort St. Louis +was like a balcony in the clouds. The child's lithe, long body made a +graceful line in every posture, and her face was vivid with light and +expression. + +"Perhaps your sick mother would like this apple, Monsieur Jacques. We +do not have any in the fort." + +The boy flushed. He held the halves ready on his palm. + +"I thought of her; but the surgeon might forbid it, and she is not +fond of apples when she is well. And you are always fond of apples, +Mademoiselle Anglaise." + +"My name is Clara Baker. If you call me Mademoiselle Anglaise, I will +box your ears." + +"But you are English," persisted the boy. "You cannot help it. I am +sorry for it myself; and when I am grown I will whip anybody that +reproaches you for it." + +They began to eat the halves of the apple, forgetful of Jacques's sick +mother, and to quarrel as their two nations have done since France and +England stood on the waters. + +"Don't distress yourself, Monsieur Jacques Repentigny. The English +will be the fashion in Quebec when you are grown." + +It was amusing to hear her talk his language glibly while she +prophesied. + +"Do you think your ugly General Wolfe can ever make himself the +fashion?" retorted Jacques. "I saw him once across the Montmorenci +when I was in my father's camp. His face runs to a point in the +middle, and his legs are like stilts." + +"His stilts will lift him into Quebec yet." + +The boy shook his black queue. He had a cheek in which the flush came +and went, and black sparkling eyes. + +"The English never can take this province. What can you know about it? +You were only a little baby when Madame Ramesay bought you from the +Iroquois Indians who had stolen you. If your name had not been on your +arm, you would not even know that. But a Le Moyne of Montreal knows +all about the province. My grandfather, Le Moyne de Longueuil, was +wounded down there at Beauport, when the English came to take Canada +before. And his brother Jacques that I am named for--Le Moyne de +Sainte-Helene--was killed. I have often seen the place where he died +when I went with my father to our camp." + +The little girl pushed back her sleeve, as she did many times a day, +and looked at the name tattooed in pale blue upon her arm. Jacques +envied her that mark, and she was proud of it. Her traditions were +all French, but the indelible stamp, perhaps of an English seaman, +reminded her what blood was in her veins. + +The children stepped nearer the parapet, where they could see all +Quebec Basin, and the French camp stretching its city of tents across +the valley of the St. Charles. Beneath them was Lower Town, a huddle +of blackened shells and tottering walls. + +"See there what the English have done," said Clara, pointing down the +sheer rock. "It will be a long time before you and I go down Breakneck +Stairs again to see the pretty images in the church of Our Lady of +Victories." + +"They did that two months ago," replied Jacques. "It was all they +could do. And now they are sick of bombarding, and are going home. +All their soldiers at Montmorenci and on the point of Orleans are +embarking. Their vessels keep running around like hens in a shower, +hardly knowing what to do." + +"Look at them getting in a line yonder," insisted his born enemy. + +"General Montcalm is in front of them at Beauport," responded Jacques. + +The ground was moist underfoot, and the rock on which they leaned felt +damp. Quebec grayness infused with light softened the autumn world. No +one could behold without a leap of the heart that vast reach of river +and islands, and palisade and valley, and far-away melting mountain +lines. Inside Quebec walls the children could see the Ursuline convent +near the top of the slope, showing holes in its roof. Nearly every +building in the city had suffered. + +Drums began to beat on the British ships ranged in front of Beauport, +and a cannon flashed. Its roar was shaken from height to height. Then +whole broadsides of fire broke forth, and the earth rumbled with the +sound, and scarlet uniforms filled the boats like floating poppies. + +"The English may be going home," exulted Clara, "but you now see for +yourself, Monsieur Jacques Repentigny, what they intend to do before +they go." + +"I wish my father had not been sent with his men back to Montreal!" +exclaimed Jacques in excitement. "But I shall go down to the camps, +anyhow." + +"Your mother will cry," threatened the girl. + +"My mother is used to war. She often lets me sleep in my father's +tent. Tell her I have gone to the camps." + +"They will put you in the guard-house." + +"They do not put a Repentigny in the guard-house." + +"If you will stay here," called the girl, running after him towards +the fortress gate, "I will play anything you wish. The cannon balls +might hit you." + +Deaf to the threat of danger, he made off through cross-cuts toward +the Palace Gate, the one nearest the bridge of boats on the St. +Charles River. + +"Very good, monsieur. I'll tell your mother," she said, trembling and +putting up a lip. + +But nothing except noise was attempted at Beauport. Jacques was +so weary, as he toiled back uphill in diminishing light, that he +gratefully crawled upon a cart and lay still, letting it take him +wherever the carter might be going. There were not enough horses and +oxen in Canada to move the supplies for the army from Montreal to +Quebec by land. Transports had to slip down the St. Lawrence by night, +running a gauntlet of vigilant English vessels. Yet whenever the +intendant Bigot wanted to shift anything, he did not lack oxen or +wheels. Jacques did not talk to the carter, but he knew a load of +king's provisions was going out to some favorite of the intendant's +who had been set to guard the northern heights. The stealings of this +popular civil officer were common talk in Quebec. + +That long slope called the Plains of Abraham, which swept away from +the summit of the rock toward Cap Rouge, seemed very near the sky. +Jacques watched dusk envelop this place. Patches of faded herbage and +stripped corn, and a few trees only, broke the monotony of its extent. +On the north side, overhanging the winding valley of the St. Charles, +the rock's great shoulder was called Cote Ste. Genevieve. The bald +plain was about a mile wide, but the cart jogged a mile and a half +from Quebec before it reached the tents where its freight was to be +discharged. + +Habit had taken the young Repentigny daily to his father's camp, +but this was the first time he had seen the guard along the heights. +Montcalm's soldiers knew him. He was permitted to handle arms. Many +a boy of fifteen was then in the ranks, and children of his age were +growing used to war. His father called it his apprenticeship to the +trade. A few empty houses stood some distance back of the tents; and +farther along the precipice, beyond brush and trees, other guards were +posted. Seventy men and four cannon completed the defensive line which +Montcalm had drawn around the top of the rock. Half the number could +have kept it, by vigilance. And it was evident that the officer in +charge thought so, and was taking advantage of his general's bounty. + +"Remember I am sending you to my field as well as to your own," the +boy overheard him say. Nearly all his company were gathered in a +little mob before his tent. He sat there on a camp stool. They were +Canadians from Lorette, anxious for leave of absence, and full of +promises. + +"Yes, monsieur, we will remember your field." "Yes, Captain Vergor, +your grain as soon as we have gathered ours in." "It shall be done, +captain." + +Jacques had heard of Vergor. A few years before, Vergor had been put +under arrest for giving up Fort Beausejour, in Acadia, to the English +without firing a shot. The boy thought it strange that such a man +should be put in charge of any part of the defensive cordon around +Quebec. But Vergor had a friend in the intendant Bigot, who knew +how to reinstate his disgraced favorites. The arriving cart drew the +captain's attention from his departing men. He smiled, his depressed +nose and fleshy lips being entirely good-natured. + +"A load of provisions, and a recruit for my company," he said. + +"Monsieur the captain needs recruits," observed Jacques. + +"Society is what I need most," said Vergor. "And from appearances I +am going to have it at my supper which the cook is about to set before +me." + +"I think I will stay all night here," said Jacques. + +"You overwhelm me," responded Vergor. + +"There are so many empty tents." + +"Fill as many of them as you can," suggested Vergor. "You are +doubtless much away from your mother, inspecting the troops; but what +will madame say if you fail to answer at her roll call to-night?" + +"Nothing. I should be in my father's tent at Montreal, if she had been +able to go when he was ordered back there." + +"Who is your father?" + +"Le Gardeur de Repentigny." + +Vergor drew his lips together for a soft whistle, as he rose to direct +the storing of his goods. + +"It is a young general with whom I am to have the honor of messing. I +thought he had the air of camps and courts the moment I saw his head +over the side of the cart." + +Many a boy secretly despises the man to whose merry insolence he +submits. But the young Repentigny felt for Vergor such contempt as +only an incompetent officer inspires. + +No sentinels were stationed. The few soldiers remaining busied +themselves over their mess fires. Jacques looked down a cove not quite +as steep as the rest of the cliff, yet as nearly perpendicular as any +surface on which trees and bushes can take hold. It was clothed with +a thick growth of sere weeds, cut by one hint of a diagonal line. +Perhaps laborers at a fulling mill now rotting below had once climbed +this rock. Rain had carried the earth from above in small cataracts +down its face, making a thin alluvial coating. A strip of land +separated the rock from the St. Lawrence, which looked wide and gray +in the evening light. Showers raked the far-off opposite hills. Leaves +showing scarlet or orange were dulled by flying mist. + +The boy noticed more boats drifting up river on the tide than he had +counted in Quebec Basin. + +"Where are all the vessels going?" he asked the nearest soldier. + +"Nowhere. They only move back and forth with the tide." + +"But they are English ships. Why don't you fire on them?" + +"We have no orders. And besides, our own transports have to slip down +among them at night. One is pretty careful not to knock the bottom out +of the dish which carries his meat." + +"The English might land down there some dark night." + +"They may land; but, unfortunately for themselves, they have no +wings." + +The boy did not answer, but he thought, "If my father and General +Levis were posted here, wings would be of no use to the English." + +His distinct little figure, outlined against the sky, could be seen +from the prisoners' ship. One prisoner saw him without taking any note +that he was a child. Her eyes were fierce and red-rimmed. She was +the only woman on the deck, having come up the gangway to get rid of +habitantes. These fellow-prisoners of hers were that moment putting +their heads together below and talking about Mademoiselle Jeannette +Descheneaux. They were perhaps the only people in the world who took +any thought of her. Highlanders and seamen moving on deck scarcely +saw her. In every age of the world beauty has ruled men. Jeannette +Descheneaux was a big, manly Frenchwoman, with a heavy voice. In +Quebec, she was a contrast to the exquisite and diaphanous creatures +who sometimes kneeled beside her in the cathedral, or looked out of +sledge or sedan chair at her as she tramped the narrow streets. They +were the beauties of the governor's court, who permitted in a new +land the corrupt gallantries of Versailles. She was the daughter of +a shoemaker, and had been raised to a semi-official position by the +promotion of her brother in the government. Her brother had grown rich +with the company of speculators who preyed on the province and the +king's stores. He had one motherless child, and Jeannette took charge +of it and his house until the child died. She was perhaps a masculine +nourisher of infancy; yet the upright mark between her black eyebrows, +so deep that it seemed made by a hatchet, had never been there before +the baby's death; and it was by stubbornly venturing too far among the +parishes to seek the child's foster mother, who was said to be in some +peril at Petit Cap, that Jeannette got herself taken prisoner. + +For a month this active woman had been a dreamer of dreams. Every day +the prison ship floated down to Quebec, and her past stood before her +like a picture. Every night it floated up to Cap Rouge, where French +camp fires flecked the gorge and the north shore stretching westward. +No strict guard was kept over the prisoners. She sat on the ship's +deck, and a delicious languor, unlike any former experience, grew +and grew upon her. The coaxing graces of pretty women she never +caricatured. Her skin was of the dark red tint which denotes a testy +disposition. She had fierce one-sided wars for trivial reasons, and +was by nature an aggressive partisan, even in the cause of a dog or a +cat. Being a woman of few phrases, she repeated these as often as +she had occasion for speech, and divided the world simply into two +classes: two or three individuals, including herself, were human +beings; the rest of mankind she denounced, in a voice which shook the +walls, as spawn. One does not like to be called spawn. + +Though Jeannette had never given herself to exaggerated worship, she +was religious. The lack of priest and mass on the prison transport +was blamed for the change which came over her. A haze of real feminine +softness, like the autumn's purpling of rocks, made her bones less +prominent. But the habitantes, common women from the parishes, who had +children and a few of their men with them, saw what ailed her. They +noticed that while her enmity to the English remained unchanged, she +would not hear a word against the Highlanders, though Colonel Fraser +and his Seventy-Eighth Highland regiment had taken her prisoner. It is +true, Jeannette was treated with deference, and her food was sent to +her from the officer's table, and she had privacy on the ship which +the commoner prisoners had not. It is also true that Colonel Fraser +was a gentleman, detesting the parish-burning to which his command was +ordered for a time. But the habitantes laid much to his blue eyes and +yellow hair, and the picturesqueness of the red and pale green Fraser +tartan. They nudged one another when Jeannette began to plait her +strong black locks, and make a coronet of them on her sloping head. +She was always exact and neat in her dress, and its mannishness stood +her in good stead during her month's imprisonment. Rough wool was +her invariable wear, instead of taffetas and silky furs, which Quebec +women delighted in. She groomed herself carefully each day for +that approach to the English camp at Point Levi which the tide +accomplished. Her features could be distinguished half a mile. On the +days when Colonel Fraser's fezlike plumed bonnet was lifted to her in +the camp, she went up the river again in a trance of quiet. On other +days the habitantes laughed, and said to one another, "Mademoiselle +will certainly break through the deck with her tramping." + +There was a general restlessness on the prison ship. The English +sailors wanted to go home. The Canadians had been patient since the +middle of August. But this particular September night, as they drifted +up past the rock, and saw the defenses of their country bristling +against them, the feeling of homesickness vented itself in complaints. +Jeannette was in her cabin, and heard them abuse Colonel Fraser and +his Highlanders as kidnapers of women and children, and burners of +churches. She came out of her retreat, and hovered over them like a +hawk. The men pulled their caps off, drolly grinning. + +"It is true," added one of them, "that General Montcalm is to blame +for letting the parishes burn. And at least he might take us away from +the English." + +"Do you think Monsieur de Montcalm has nothing to do but bring you in +off the river?" demanded Jeannette. + +"Mademoiselle does not want to be brought in," retorted one of the +women. "As for us, we are not in love with these officers who wear +petticoats, or with any of our enemies." + +"Spawn!" Jeanette hurled at them. Yet her partisan fury died in her +throat. She went up on deck to be away from her accusers. The seamed +precipice, the indented cove with the child's figure standing at the +top, and all the panorama to which she was so accustomed by morning +light or twilight passed before her without being seen by her fierce +red-rimmed eyes. + +Jeannette Descheneaux had walked through the midst of colonial +intrigues without knowing that they existed. Men she ignored; and she +could not now account for her keen knowledge that there was a colonel +of the Seventy-Eighth Highlanders. Her entanglement had taken her in +the very simplicity of childhood. She could not blame him. He had +done nothing but lift his bonnet to her, and treat her with deference +because he was sorry she had fallen into his hands. But at first she +fought with silent fury the power he unconsciously held over her. She +felt only the shame of it, which the habitantes had cast upon her. +Nobody had ever called Jeannette Descheneaux a silly woman. In early +life it was thought she had a vocation for the convent; but she drew +back from that, and now she was suddenly desolate. Her brother had his +consolations. There was nothing for her. + +Scant tears, oozing like blood, moistened her eyes. She took hold of +her throat to strangle a sob. Her teeth chattered in the wind blowing +down river. Constellations came up over the rock's long shoulder. +Though it was a dark night, the stars were clear. She took no heed +of the French camp fires in the gorge and along the bank. The French +commander there had followed the erratic motions of English boats +until they ceased to alarm him. It was flood tide. The prison ship sat +on the water, scarcely swinging. + +At one o'clock Jeannette was still on deck, having watched through the +midnight of her experience. She had no phrases for her thoughts. They +were dumb, but they filled her to the outermost layer of her skin, and +deadened sensation. + +Boats began to disturb her, however. They trailed past the ship with +a muffled swish, all of them disappearing in the darkness. This +gathering must have been going on some time before she noticed it. The +lantern hanging aloft made a mere warning spot in the darkness, for +the lights on deck had been put out. All the English ships, when she +looked about her, were to be guessed at, for not a port-hole cast +its cylinder of radiance on the water. Night muffled their hulls, and +their safety lights hung in a scattered constellation. In one place +two lanterns hung on one mast. + +Jeannette felt the pull of the ebbing tide. The ship gave way to it. +As it swung, and the monotonous flow of the water became constant, she +heard a boat grate, and directly Colonel Fraser came up the vessel's +side, and stood on deck where she could touch him. He did not know +that the lump of blackness almost beneath his hand was a breathing +woman; and if he had known, he would have disregarded her then. But +she knew him, from indistinct cap and the white pouch at his girdle to +the flat Highland shoes. + +Whether the Highlanders on the ship were watching for him to appear as +their signal, or he had some private admonition for them, they started +up from spots which Jeannette had thought vacant darkness, probably +armed and wrapped in their plaids. She did not know what he said to +them. One by one they got quickly over the ship's side. She did not +form any resolution, and neither did she hesitate; but, drawing tight +around her the plaidlike length of shawl which had served her nearly a +lifetime, she stood up ready to take her turn. + +Jeannette seemed to swallow her heart as she climbed over the rail. +The Highlanders were all in the boat except their colonel. He drew in +his breath with a startled sound, and she knew the sweep of her skirt +must have betrayed her. She expected to fall into the river; but her +hand took sure hold of a ladder of rope, and, creeping down backward, +she set her foot in the bateau. It was a large and steady open boat. +Some of the men were standing. She had entered the bow, and as Colonel +Fraser dropped in they cast off, and she sat down, finding a bench +as she had found foothold. The Highland officer was beside her. They +could not see each other's faces. She was not sure he had detected +her. The hardihood which had taken her beyond the French lines in +search of on whom she felt under her protection was no longer in her. +A cowering woman with a boatload of English soldiers palpitated under +the darkness. It was necessary only to steer; both tide and current +carried them steadily down. On the surface of the river, lines of dark +objects followed. A fleet of the enemy's transports was moving towards +Quebec. + +To most women country means home. Jeannette was tenaciously fond +of the gray old city of Quebec, but home to her was to be near that +Highland officer. Her humiliation passed into the very agony of +tenderness. To go wherever he was going was enough. She did not want +him to speak to her, or touch her, or give any sign that he knew +she was in the world. She wanted to sit still by his side under the +negation of darkness and be satisfied. Jeannette had never dreamed +how long the hours between turn of tide and dawn may be. They were the +principal part of her life. + +Keen stars held the sky at immeasurable heights. There was no mist. +The chill wind had swept the river clear like a great path. Within +reach of Jeannette's hand, but hidden from her, as most of us are +hidden from one another, sat one more solitary than herself. He had +not her robust body. Disease and anxiety had worn him away while he +was hopelessly besieging Quebec. In that last hour before the 13th of +September dawned, General Wolfe was groping down river toward one of +the most desperate military attempts in the history of the world. + +There was no sound but the rustle of the water, the stir of a foot as +some standing man shifted his weight, and the light click of metal +as guns in unsteady hands touched barrels. A voice, modulating rhythm +which Jeannette could not understand, began to speak. General Wolfe +was reciting an English poem. The strain upon his soul was more +than he could bear, and he relieved it by those low-uttered rhymes. +Jeannette did not know one word of English. The meaning which reached +her was a dirge, but a noble dirge; the death hymn of a human being +who has lived up to his capacities. She felt strangely influenced, +as by the neighborhood of some large angel, and at the same time the +tragedy of being alive overswept her. For one's duty is never all +done; or when we have accomplished it with painstaking care, we are +smitten through with finding that the greater things have passed us +by. + +The tide carried the boats near the great wall of rock. Woods made +denser shade on the background of night. The cautious murmur of the +speaker was cut short. + +"Who goes there?" came the sharp challenge of a French sentry. + +The soldiers were silent as dead men. + +"France!" answered Colonel Fraser in the same language. + +"Of what regiment?" + +"The Queen's." + +The sentry was satisfied. To the Queen's regiment, stationed at Cap +Rouge, belonged the duty of convoying provisions down to Quebec. He +did not further peril what he believed to be a French transport by +asking for the password. + +Jeannette breathed. So low had she sunk that she would have used her +language herself to get the Highland colonel past danger. + +It was fortunate for his general that he had the accent and readiness +of a Frenchman. Again they were challenged. They could see another +sentry running parallel with their course. + +"Provision boats," this time answered the Highlander. "Don't make a +noise. The English will hear us." + +That hint was enough, for an English sloop of war lay within sound of +their voices. + +With the swift tide the boats shot around a headland, and here was a +cove in the huge precipice, clothed with sere herbage and bushes and +a few trees; steep, with the hint of a once-used path across it, but +a little less perpendicular than the rest of the rock. No sentinel was +stationed at this place. + +The world was just beginning to come out of positive shadow into the +indistinctness of dawn. Current and tide were so strong that the boats +could not be steered directly to shore, but on the alluvial strip at +the base of this cove they beached themselves with such success as +they could. Twenty-four men sprung out and ran to the ascent. Their +muskets were slung upon their backs. A humid look was coming upon the +earth, and blurs were over the fading stars. The climbers separated, +each making his own way from point to point of the slippery cliff, and +swarms followed them as boat after boat discharged its load. The cove +by which he breached the stronghold of this continent, and which was +from that day to bear his name, cast its shadow on the gaunt, upturned +face of Wolfe. He waited while the troops in whom he put his trust, +with knotted muscles and panting breasts, lifted themselves to the +top. No orders were spoken. Wolfe had issued instructions the night +before, and England expected every man to do his duty. + +There was not enough light to show how Canada was taken. Jeannette +Descheneaux stepped on the sand, and the single thought which took +shape in her mind was that she must scale that ascent if the English +scaled it. + +The hope of escape to her own people did not animate her labor. She +had no hope of any sort. She felt only present necessity, which was to +climb where the Highland officer climbed. He was in front of her, and +took no notice of her until they reached a slippery wall where there +were no bushes. There he turned and caught her by the wrist, drawing +her up after him. Their faces came near together in the swimming +vapors of dawn. He had the bright look of determination. His eyes +shone. He was about to burst into the man's arena of glory. The woman, +whom he drew up because she was a woman, and because he regretted +having taken her prisoner, had the pallid look of a victim. Her tragic +black eyes and brows, and the hairs clinging in untidy threads +about her haggard cheeks instead of curling up with the damp as the +Highlandman's fleece inclined to do, worked an instant's compassion +in him. But his business was not the squiring of angular Frenchwomen. +Shots were heard at the top of the rock, a trampling rush, and then +exulting shouts. The English had taken Vergor's camp. + +The hand was gone from Jeannette's wrist,--the hand which gave her +such rapture and such pain by its firm fraternal grip. Colonel Fraser +leaped to the plain, and was in the midst of the skirmish. Cannon +spoke, like thunder rolling across one's head. A battery guarded by +the sentinels they had passed was aroused, and must be silenced. The +whole face of the cliff suddenly bloomed with scarlet uniforms. All +the men remaining in the boats went up as fire sweeps when carried +by the wind. Nothing could restrain them. They smelled gunpowder and +heard the noise of victory, and would have stormed heaven at that +instant. They surrounded Jeannette without seeing her, every man +looking up to the heights of glory, and passed her in fierce and +panting emulation. + +Jeannette leaned against the rough side of Wolfe's Cove. On the +inner surface of her eyelids she could see again the image of the +Highlandman stooping to help her, his muscular legs and neck showing +like a young god's in the early light. There she lost him, for he +forgot her. The passion of women whom nature has made unfeminine, and +who are too honest to stoop to arts, is one of the tragedies of the +world. + +Daylight broke reluctantly, with clouds mustering from the inverted +deep of the sky. A few drops of rain sprinkled the British uniforms as +battalions were formed. The battery which gave the first intimation +of danger to the French general, on the other side of Quebec, had been +taken and silenced. Wolfe and his officers hurried up the high plateau +and chose their ground. Then the troops advanced, marching by files, +Highland bagpipes screaming and droning, the earth reverberating with +a measured tread. As they moved toward Quebec they wheeled to form +their line of battle, in ranks three deep, and stretched across the +plain. The city was scarcely a mile away, but a ridge of ground still +hid it from sight. + +From her hiding-place in one of the empty houses behind Vergor's +tents, Jeannette Descheneaux watched the scarlet backs and the tartans +of the Highlanders grow smaller. She could also see the prisoners that +were taken standing under guard. As for herself, she felt that she +had no longer a visible presence, so easy had it been for her to move +among swarms of men and escape in darkness. She never had favored her +body with soft usage, but it trembled now in every part from muscular +strain. She was probably cold and hungry, but her poignant sensation +was that she had no friends. It did not matter to Jeannette that +history was being made before her, and one of the great battles of the +world was about to be fought. It only mattered that she should discern +the Fraser plaid as far as eye could follow it. There is no more +piteous thing than for one human being to be overpowered by the god in +another. + +She sat on the ground in the unfloored hut, watching through broken +chinking. There was a back door as well as a front door, hung on +wooden hinges, and she had pinned the front door as she came in. The +opening of the back door made Jeannette turn her head, though with +little interest in the comer. It was a boy, with a streak of blood +down his face and neck, and his clothes stained by the weather. He +had no hat on, and one of his shoes was missing. He put himself at +Jeannette's side without any hesitation, and joined her watch through +the broken chinking. A tear and a drop of scarlet raced down his +cheek, uniting as they dripped from his chin. + +"Have you been wounded?" inquired Jeannette. + +"It isn't the wound," he answered, "but that Captain Vergor has let +them take the heights. I heard something myself, and tried to wake +him. The pig turned over and went to sleep again." + +"Let me tie it up," said Jeannette. + +"He is shot in the heel and taken prisoner. I wish he had been shot in +the heart. He hopped out of bed and ran away when the English fired on +his tent. I have been trying to get past their lines to run to General +Montcalm; but they are everywhere," declared the boy, his chin shaking +and his breast swelling with grief. + +Jeannette turned her back on him, and found some linen about her +person which she could tear. She made a bandage for his head. It +comforted her to take hold of the little fellow and part his clotted +hair. + +"The skin of my head is torn," he admitted, while suffering the +attempted surgery. "If I had been taller, the bullet might have killed +me; and I would rather be killed than see the English on this rock, +marching to take Quebec. What will my father say? I am ashamed to look +him in the face and own I slept in the camp of Vergor last night. The +Le Moynes and Repentignys never let enemies get past them before. And +I knew that man was not keeping watch; he did not set any sentry." + +"Is it painful?" she inquired, wiping the bloody cut, which still +welled forth along its channel. + +The boy lifted his brimming eyes, and answered her from his deeper +hurt:-- + +"I don't know what to do. I think my father would make for General +Montcalm's camp if he were alone and could not attack the enemy's +rear; for something ought to be done as quickly as possible." + +Jeannette bandaged his head, the rain spattering through the broken +log house upon them both. + +"Who brought you here?" inquired Jacques. "There was nobody in these +houses last night, for I searched them myself." + +"I hid here before daybreak," she answered briefly. + +"But if you knew the English were coming, why did you not give the +alarm?" + +"I was their prisoner." + +"And where will you go now?" + +She looked towards the Plains of Abraham and said nothing. The open +chink showed Wolfe's six battalions of scarlet lines moving forward or +pausing, and the ridge above them thronging with white uniforms. + +"If you will trust yourself to me, mamoiselle," proposed Jacques, who +considered that it was not the part of a soldier or a gentleman to +leave any woman alone in this hut to take the chances of battle, and +particularly a woman who had bound up his head, "I will do my best to +help you inside the French lines." + +The singular woman did not reply to him, but continued looking through +the chink. Skirmishers were out. Puffs of smoke from cornfields and +knolls showed where Canadians and Indians hid, creeping to the flank +of the enemy. + +Jacques stooped down himself, and struck his hands together at these +sights. + +"Monsieur de Montcalm is awake, mademoiselle! And see our +sharpshooters picking them off! We can easily run inside the French +lines now. These English will soon be tumbled back the way they came +up." + +In another hour the group of houses was a roaring furnace. A +detachment of English light infantry, wheeled to drive out the +bushfighters, had lost and retaken it many times, and neither party +gave up the ready fortress until it was set on fire. Crumbling red +logs hissed in the thin rain, and smoke spread from them across the +sodden ground where Wolfe moved. The sick man had become an invincible +spirit. He flew along the ranks, waving his sword, the sleeve falling +away from his thin arm. The great soldier had thrown himself on this +venture without a chance of retreat, but every risk had been thought +of and met. He had a battalion guarding the landing. He had a force +far in the rear to watch the motions of the French at Cap Rouge. By +the arrangement of his front he had taken precautions against being +outflanked. And he knew his army was with him to a man. But Montcalm +rode up to meet him hampered by insubordinate confusion. + +Jeannette Descheneaux, carried along, with the boy, by Canadians and +Indians from the English rear to the Cote Ste. Genevieve, lay dazed in +the withered grass during the greater part of the action which decided +her people's hold on the New World. The ground resounded like a drum +with measured treading. The blaze and crash of musketry and cannon +blinded and deafened her; but when she lifted her head from the shock +of the first charge, the most instantaneous and shameful panic that +ever seized a French army had already begun. The skirmishers in +the bushes could not understand it. Smoke parted, and she saw the +white-and-gold French general trying to drive his men back. But they +evaded the horses of officers. + +Jacques rose, with the Canadians and Indians, to his knees. He had a +musket. Jeannette rose, also, as the Highlanders came sweeping on in +pursuit. She had scarcely been a woman to the bushfighters. They were +too eager in their aim to glance aside at a rawboned camp follower +in a wet shawl. Neither did the Highlanders distinguish from other +Canadian heads the one with a woman's braids and a faint shadowing of +hair at the corners of the mouth. They came on without suspecting +an ambush, and she heard their strange cries--"Cath-Shairm!" and +"Caisteal Duna!"--when the shock of a volley stopped the streaming +tartans. She saw the play of surprise and fury in those mountaineer +faces. They threw down their muskets, and turned on the ambushed +Canadians, short sword in hand. + +Never did knight receive the blow of the accolade as that crouching +woman took a Highland knife in her breast. For one breath she grasped +the back of it with both hands, and her rapt eyes met the horrified +eyes of Colonel Fraser. He withdrew the weapon, standing defenseless, +and a ball struck him, cutting the blood across his arm, and again he +was lost in the fury of battle, while Jeannette felt herself dragged +down the slope. + +She resisted. She heard a boy's voice pleading with her, but she got +up and tried to go back to the spot from which she had been dragged. +The Canadians and Indians were holding their ground. She heard their +muskets, but they were far behind her, and the great rout caught her +and whirled her. Officers on their horses were borne struggling along +in it. She fell down and was trampled on, but something helped her up. + +The flood of men poured along the front of the ramparts and down to +the bridge of boats on the St. Charles, or into the city walls through +the St. Louis and St. John gates. + +To Jeannette the world was far away. Yet she found it once more close +at hand, as she stood with her back against the lofty inner wall. The +mad crowd had passed, and gone shouting down the narrow streets. +But the St. Louis gate was still choked with fugitives when Montcalm +appeared, reeling on his horse, supported by a soldier on each side. +His white uniform was stained on the breast, and blood dripped from +the saddle. Jeannette heard the piercing cry of a little girl: +"Oh heavens! Oh heavens! The marquis is killed!" And she heard +the fainting general gasp, "It is nothing, it is nothing. Don't be +troubled for me, my children." + +She knew how he felt as he was led by. The indistinctness of the +opposite wall, which widened from the gate, was astonishing. And she +was troubled by the same little boy whose head she had tied up in +the log house. Jeannette looked obliquely down at him as she braced +herself with chill fingers, and discerned that he was claimed by a +weeping little girl to whom he yet paid no attention. + +"Let me help you, mademoiselle," he urged, troubling her. + +"Go away," said Jeannette. + +"But, mademoiselle, you have been badly hurt." + +"Go away," said Jeannette, and her limbs began to settle. She thought +of smiling at the children, but her features were already cast. The +English child held her on one side, and the French child on the other, +as she collapsed in a sitting posture. Tender nuns, going from friend +to foe, would find this stoical face against the wall. It was no +strange sight then. Canada was taken. + +Men with bloody faces were already running with barricades for the +gates. Wailing for Montcalm could be heard. + +The boy put his arm abound the girl and turned her eyes away. They ran +together up towards the citadel: England and France with their hands +locked; young Canada weeping, but having a future. + + + + +THE WINDIGO. + + +The cry of those rapids in Ste. Marie's River called the Sault could +be heard at all hours through the settlement on the rising shore and +into the forest beyond. Three quarters of a mile of frothing billows, +like some colossal instrument, never ceased playing music down an +inclined channel until the trance of winter locked it up. At August +dusk, when all that shaggy world was sinking to darkness, the gushing +monotone became very distinct. + +Louizon Cadotte and his father's young seignior, Jacques de +Repentigny, stepped from a birch canoe on the bank near the fort, two +Chippewa Indians following with their game. Hunting furnished no +small addition to the food supply of the settlement, for the English +conquest had brought about scarcity at this as well as other Western +posts. Peace was declared in Europe; but soldiers on the frontier, +waiting orders to march out at any time, were not abundantly supplied +with stores, and they let season after season go by, reluctant to put +in harvests which might be reaped by their successors. + +Jacques was barely nineteen, and Louizon was considerably older. But +the Repentignys had gone back to France after the fall of Quebec; and +five years of European life had matured the young seignior as decades +of border experience would never mature his half-breed tenant. Yet +Louizon was a fine dark-skinned fellow, well made for one of short +stature. He trod close by his tall superior with visible fondness; +enjoying this spectacle of a man the like of whom he had not seen on +the frontier. + +Jacques looked back, as he walked, at the long zigzag shadows on the +river. Forest fire in the distance showed a leaning column, black at +base, pearl-colored in the primrose air, like smoke from some gigantic +altar. He had seen islands in the lake under which the sky seemed to +slip, throwing them above the horizon in mirage, and trees standing +like detached bushes on a world rim of water. The Ste. Marie River was +a beautiful light green in color, and sunset and twilight played upon +it all the miracles of change. + +"I wish my father had never left this country," said young Repentigny, +feeling that spell cast by the wilderness. "Here is his place. He +should have withdrawn to the Sault, and accommodated himself to the +English, instead of returning to France. The service in other parts +of the world does not suit him. Plenty of good men have held to Canada +and their honor also." + +"Yes, yes," assented Louizon. "The English cannot be got rid of. For +my part, I shall be glad when this post changes hands. I am sick of +our officers." + +He scowled with open resentment. The seigniory house faced the parade +ground, and they could see against its large low mass, lounging on the +gallery, one each side of a window, the white uniforms of two French +soldiers. The window sashes, screened by small curtains across the +middle, were swung into the room; and Louizon's wife leaned on her +elbows across the sill, the rosy atmosphere of his own fire projecting +to view every ring of her bewitching hair, and even her long eyelashes +as she turned her gaze from side to side. + +It was so dark, and the object of their regard was so bright, that +these buzzing bees of Frenchmen did not see her husband until he ran +up the steps facing them. Both of them greeted him heartily. He felt +it a peculiar indignity that his wife's danglers forever passed their +good-will on to him; and he left them in the common hall, with his +father and the young seignior, and the two or three Indians who +congregated there every evening to ask for presents or to smoke. + +Louizon's wife met him in the middle of the broad low apartment where +he had been so proud to introduce her as a bride, and turned her +cheek to be kissed. She was not fond of having her lips touched. Her +hazel-colored hair was perfumed. She was so supple and exquisite, so +dimpled and aggravating, that the Chippewa in him longed to take her +by the scalp-lock of her light head; but the Frenchman bestowed the +salute. Louizon had married the prettiest woman in the settlement. +Life overflowed in her, so that her presence spread animation. Both +men and women paid homage to her. Her very mother-in-law was her +slave. And this was the stranger spectacle because Madame Cadotte +the senior, though born a Chippewa, did not easily make herself +subservient to anybody. + +The time had been when Louizon was proud of any notice this siren +conferred on him. But so exacting and tyrannical is the nature of man +that when he got her he wanted to keep her entirely to himself. From +his Chippewa mother, who, though treated with deference, had never +dared to disobey his father, he inherited a fond and jealous nature; +and his beautiful wife chafed it. Young Repentigny saw that she was +like a Parisian. But Louizon felt that she was a spirit too fine and +tantalizing for him to grasp, and she had him in her power. + +He hung his powderhorn behind the door, and stepped upon a stool to +put his gun on its rack above the fireplace. The fire showed his round +figure, short but well muscled, and the boyish petulance of his shaven +lip. The sun shone hot upon the Sault of an August noon, but morning +and night were cool, and a blaze was usually kept in the chimney. + +"You found plenty of game?" said his wife; and it was one of this +woman's wickedest charms that she could be so interested in her +companion of the moment. + +"Yes," he answered, scowling more, and thinking of the brace on the +gallery whom he had not shot, but wished to. + +She laughed at him. + +"Archange Cadotte," said Louizon, turning around on the stool before +he descended; and she spread out her skirts, taking two dancing steps +to indicate that she heard him. "How long am I to be mortified by your +conduct to Monsieur de Repentigny?" + +"Oh--Monsieur de Repentigny. It is now that boy from France, at whom I +have never looked." + +"The man I would have you look at, madame, you scarcely notice." + +"Why should I notice him? He pays little attention to me." + +"Ah, he is not one of your danglers, madame. He would not look at +another man's wife. He has had trouble himself." + +"So will you have if you scorch the backs of your legs," observed +Archange. + +Louizon stood obstinately on the stool and ignored the heat. He was in +the act of stepping down, but he checked it as she spoke. + +"Monsieur de Repentigny came back to this country to marry a young +English lady of Quebec. He thinks of her, not of you." + +"I am sure he is welcome," murmured Archange. "But it seems the young +English lady prefers to stay in Quebec." + +"She never looked at any other man, madame. She is dead." + +"No wonder. I should be dead, too, if I had looked at one stupid man +all my life." + +Louizon's eyes sparkled. "Madame, I will have you know that the +seignior of Sault Ste. Marie is entitled to your homage." + +"Monsieur, I will have you know that I do not pay homage to any man." + +"You, Archange Cadotte? You are in love with a new man every day." + +"Not in the least, monsieur. I only desire to have a new man in love +with me every day." + +Her mischievous mouth was a scarlet button in her face, and Louizon +leaped to the floor, and kicked the stool across the room. + +"The devil himself is no match at all for you!" + +"But I married him before I knew that," returned Archange; and Louizon +grinned in his wrath. + +"I don't like such women." + +"Oh yes, you do. Men always like women whom they cannot chain." + +"I have never tried to chain you." Her husband approached, shaking his +finger at her. "There is not another woman in the settlement who has +her way as you have. And see how you treat me!" + +"How do I treat you?" inquired Archange, sitting down and resigning +herself to statistics. + +"Ste. Marie! St. Joseph!" shouted the Frenchman. "How does she treat +me! And every man in the seigniory dangling at her apron string!" + +"You are mistaken. There is the young seignior; and there is the new +English commandant, who must be now within the seigniory, for they +expect him at the post to-morrow morning. It is all the same: if I +look at a man you are furious, and if I refuse to look at him you are +more furious still." + +Louizon felt that inward breaking up which proved to him that he could +not stand before the tongue of this woman. Groping for expression, he +declared,-- + +"If thou wert sickly or blind, I would be just as good to thee as when +thou wert a bride. I am not the kind that changes if a woman loses her +fine looks." + +"No doubt you would like to see me with the smallpox," suggested +Archange. "But it is never best to try a man too far." + +"You try me too far,--let me tell you that. But you shall try me no +further." + +The Indian appeared distinctly on his softer French features, as one +picture may be stamped over another. + +"Smoke a pipe, Louizon," urged the thorn in his flesh. "You are always +so much more agreeable when your mouth is stopped." + +But he left the room without looking at her again. Archange remarked +to herself that he would be better natured when his mother had given +him his supper; and she yawned, smiling at the maladroit creatures +whom she made her sport. Her husband was the best young man in the +settlement. She was entirely satisfied with him, and grateful to +him for taking the orphan niece of a poor post commandant, without +prospects since the conquest, and giving her sumptuous quarters and +comparative wealth; but she could not forbear amusing herself with his +masculine weaknesses. + +Archange was by no means a slave in the frontier household. She did +not spin, or draw water, or tend the oven. Her mother-in-law, Madame +Cadotte, had a hold on perennially destitute Chippewa women who could +be made to work for longer or shorter periods in a Frenchman's kitchen +or loom-house instead of with savage implements. Archange's bed had +ruffled curtains, and her pretty dresses, carefully folded, filled a +large chest. + +She returned to the high window sill, and watched the purple distances +growing black. She could smell the tobacco the men were smoking in the +open hall, and hear their voices. Archange knew what her mother-in-law +was giving the young seignior and Louizon for their supper. She could +fancy the officers laying down their pipes to draw to the board, also, +for the Cadottes kept open house all the year round. + +The thump of the Indian drum was added to the deep melody of the +rapids. There were always a few lodges of Chippewas about the Sault. +When the trapping season and the maple-sugar making were over and his +profits drunk up, time was the largest possession of an Indian. He +spent it around the door of his French brother, ready to fish or to +drink whenever invited. If no one cared to go on the river, he turned +to his hereditary amusements. Every night that the rapids were void of +torches showing where the canoes of white fishers darted, the thump of +the Indian drum and the yell of Indian dancers could be heard. + +Archange's mind was running on the new English garrison who were said +to be so near taking possession of the picketed fort, when she +saw something red on the parade ground. The figure stood erect and +motionless, gathering all the remaining light on its indistinct +coloring, and Archange's heart gave a leap at the hint of a military +man in a red uniform. She was all alive, like a whitefisher casting +the net or a hunter sighting game. It was Archange's nature, without +even taking thought, to turn her head on her round neck so that the +illuminated curls would show against a background of wall, and wreathe +her half-bare arms across the sill. To be looked at, to lure and +tantalize, was more than pastime. It was a woman's chief privilege. +Archange held the secret conviction that the priest himself could be +made to give her lighter penances by an angelic expression she could +assume. It is convenient to have large brown eyes and the trick of +casting them sidewise in sweet distress. + +But the Chippewa widow came in earlier than usual that evening, being +anxious to go back to the lodges to watch the dancing. Archange pushed +the sashes shut, ready for other diversion, and Michel Pensonneau +never failed to furnish her that. The little boy was at the widow's +heels. Michel was an orphan. + +"If Archange had children," Madame Cadotte had said to Louizon, "she +would not seek other amusement. Take the little Pensonneau lad that +his grandmother can hardly feed. He will give Archange something to +do." + +So Louizon brought home the little Pensonneau lad. Archange looked at +him, and considered that here was another person to wait on her. As to +keeping him clean and making clothes for him, they might as well have +expected her to train the sledge dogs. She made him serve her, but for +mothering he had to go to Madame Cadotte. Yet Archange far outweighed +Madame Cadotte with him. The labors put upon him by the autocrat of +the house were sweeter than mococks full of maple sugar from the hand +of the Chippewa housekeeper. At first Archange would not let him come +into her room. She dictated to him through door or window. But when he +grew fat with good food and was decently clad under Madame Cadotte's +hand, the great promotion of entering that sacred apartment was +allowed him. Michel came in whenever he could. It was his nightly +habit to follow the Chippewa widow there after supper, and watch her +brush Archange's hair. + +Michel stood at the end of the hearth with a roll of pagessanung or +plum-leather in his fist. His cheeks had a hard garnered redness like +polished apples. The Chippewa widow set her husband carefully against +the wall. The husband was a bundle about two feet long, containing +her best clothes tied up in her dead warrior's sashes and rolled in a +piece of cloth. His armbands and his necklace of bear's-claws appeared +at the top as a grotesque head. This bundle the widow was obliged to +carry with her everywhere. To be seen without it was a disgrace, until +that time when her husband's nearest relations should take it away +from her and give her new clothes, thus signifying that she had +mourned long enough to satisfy them. As the husband's relations +were unable to cover themselves, the prospect of her release seemed +distant. For her food she was glad to depend on her labor in the +Cadotte household. There was no hunter to supply her lodge now. + +The widow let down Archange's hair and began to brush it. The long +mass was too much for its owner to handle. It spread around her like +a garment, as she sat on her chair, and its ends touched the floor. +Michel thought there was nothing more wonderful in the world than this +glory of hair, its rings and ripples shining in the firelight. The +widow's jaws worked in unobtrusive rumination on a piece of pleasantly +bitter fungus, the Indian substitute for quinine, which the Chippewas +called waubudone. As she consoled herself much with this medicine, +and her many-syllabled name was hard to pronounce, Archange called her +Waubudone, an offense against her dignity which the widow might not +have endured from anybody else, though she bore it without a word from +this soft-haired magnate. + +As she carefully carded the mass of hair lock by lock, thinking it +an unnecessary nightly labor, the restless head under her hands +was turned towards the portable husband. Archange had not much +imagination, but to her the thing was uncanny. She repeated what she +said every night:-- + +"Do stand him in the hall and let him smell the smoke, Waubudone." + +"No," refused the widow. + +"But I don't want him in my bedroom. You are not obliged to keep that +thing in your sight all the time." + +"Yes," said the widow. + +A dialect of mingled French and Chippewa was what they spoke, and +Michel knew enough of both tongues to follow the talk. + +"Are they never going to take him from you? If they don't take him +from you soon, I shall go to the lodges and speak to his people about +it myself." + +The Chippewa widow usually passed over this threat in silence; but, +threading a lock with the comb, she now said,-- + +"Best not go to the lodges awhile." + +"Why?" inquired Archange. "Have the English already arrived? Is the +tribe dissatisfied?" + +"Don't know that." + +"Then why should I not go to the lodges?" + +"Windigo at the Sault now." + +Archange wheeled to look at her face. The widow was unmoved. She +was little older than Archange, but her features showed a stoical +harshness in the firelight. Michel, who often went to the lodges, +widened his mouth and forgot to fill it with plum-leather. There was +no sweet which Michel loved as he did this confection of wild plums +and maple sugar boiled down and spread on sheets of birch bark. Madame +Cadotte made the best pagessanung at the Sault. + +"Look at the boy," laughed Archange. "He will not want to go to the +lodges any more after dark." + +The widow remarked, noting Michel's fat legs and arms,-- + +"Windigo like to eat him." + +"I would kill a windigo," declared Michel, in full revolt. + +"Not so easy to kill a windigo. Bad spirits help windigos. If man kill +windigo and not tear him to pieces, he come to life again." + +Archange herself shuddered at such a tenacious creature. She was less +superstitious than the Chippewa woman, but the Northwest had its human +terrors as dark as the shadow of witchcraft. + +Though a Chippewa was bound to dip his hand in the war kettle and +taste the flesh of enemies after victory, there was nothing he +considered more horrible than a confirmed cannibal. He believed that +a person who had eaten human flesh to satisfy hunger was never +afterwards contented with any other kind, and, being deranged and +possessed by the spirit of a beast, he had to be killed for the safety +of the community. The cannibal usually became what he was by stress +of starvation: in the winter when hunting failed and he was far from +help, or on a journey when provisions gave out, and his only choice +was to eat a companion or die. But this did not excuse him. As soon as +he was detected the name of "windigo" was given him, and if he did not +betake himself again to solitude he was shot or knocked on the head +at the first convenient opportunity. Archange remembered one such +wretched creature who had haunted the settlement awhile, and then +disappeared. His canoe was known, and when it hovered even distantly +on the river every child ran to its mother. The priest was less +successful with this kind of outcast than with any other barbarian on +the frontier. + +"Have you seen him, Waubudone?" inquired Archange. "I wonder if it is +the same man who used to frighten us?" + +"This windigo a woman. Porcupine in her. She lie down and roll up and +hide her head when you drive her off." + +"Did you drive her off?" + +"No. She only come past my lodge in the night." + +"Did you see her?" + +"No, I smell her." + +Archange had heard of the atmosphere which windigos far gone in +cannibalism carried around them. She desired to know nothing more +about the poor creature, or the class to which the poor creature +belonged, if such isolated beings may be classed. The Chippewa +widow talked without being questioned, however, preparing to reduce +Archange's mass of hair to the compass of a nightcap. + +"My grandmother told me there was a man dreamed he had to eat seven +persons. He sat by the fire and shivered. If his squaw wanted meat, he +quarreled with her. 'Squaw, take care. Thou wilt drive me so far that +I shall turn windigo.'" + +People who did not give Archange the keen interest of fascinating them +were a great weariness to her. Humble or wretched human life filled +her with disgust. She could dance all night at the weekly dances, +laughing in her sleeve at girls from whom she took the best partners. +But she never helped nurse a sick child, and it made her sleepy to +hear of windigos and misery. Michel wanted to squat by the chimney and +listen until Louizon came in; but she drove him out early. Louizon +was kind to the orphan, who had been in some respects a failure, and +occasionally let him sleep on blankets or skins by the hearth instead +of groping to the dark attic. And if Michel ever wanted to escape the +attic, it was to-night, when a windigo was abroad. But Louizon did not +come. + +It must have been midnight when Archange sat up in bed, startled out +of sleep by her mother-in-law, who held a candle between the curtains. +Madame Cadotte's features were of a mild Chippewa type, yet the +restless aboriginal eye made Archange uncomfortable with its anxiety. + +"Louizon is still away," said his mother. + +"Perhaps he went whitefishing after he had his supper." The young wife +yawned and rubbed her eyes, beginning to notice that her husband might +be doing something unusual. + +"He did not come to his supper." + +"Yes, mama. He came in with Monsieur de Repentigny." + +"I did not see him. The seignior ate alone." + +Archange stared, fully awake. "Where does the seignior say he is?" + +"The seignior does not know. They parted at the door." + +"Oh, he has gone to the lodges to watch the dancing." + +"I have been there. No one has seen him since he set out to hunt this +morning." + +"Where are Louizon's canoemen?" + +"Jean Boucher and his son are at the dancing. They say he came into +this house." + +Archange could not adjust her mind to anxiety without the suspicion +that her mother-in-law might be acting as the instrument of Louizon's +resentment. The huge feather bed was a tangible comfort interposed +betwixt herself and calamity. + +"He was sulky to-night," she declared. "He has gone up to sleep in +Michel's attic to frighten me." + +"I have been there. I have searched the house." + +"But are you sure it was Michel in the bed?" + +"There was no one. Michel is here." + +Archange snatched the curtain aside, and leaned out to see the orphan +sprawled on a bearskin in front of the collapsing logs. He had pushed +the sashes inward from the gallery and hoisted himself over the high +sill after the bed drapery was closed for the night, for the window +yet stood open. Madame Cadotte sheltered the candle she carried, but +the wind blew it out. There was a rich glow from the fireplace upon +Michel's stuffed legs and arms, his cheeks, and the full parted lips +through which his breath audibly flowed. The other end of the room, +lacking the candle, was in shadow. The thump of the Indian drum could +still be heard, and distinctly and more distinctly, as if they were +approaching the house, the rapids. + +Both women heard more. They had not noticed any voice at the window +when they were speaking themselves, but some offensive thing scented +the wind, and they heard, hoarsely spoken in Chippewa from the +gallery,-- + +"How fat he is!" + +Archange, with a gasp, threw herself upon her mother-in-law for +safety, and Madame Cadotte put both arms and the smoking candle around +her. A feeble yet dexterous scramble on the sill resulted in something +dropping into the room. It moved toward the hearth glow, a gaunt +vertebrate body scarcely expanded by ribs, but covered by a red +blanket, and a head with deathlike features overhung by strips of +hair. This vision of famine leaned forward and indented Michel with +one finger, croaking again,-- + +"How fat he is!" + +The boy roused himself, and, for one instant stupid and apologetic, +was going to sit up and whine. He saw what bent over him, and, +bristling with unimaginable revolutions of arms and legs, he yelled a +yell which seemed to sweep the thing back through the window. + +Next day no one thought of dancing or fishing or of the coming +English. Frenchmen and Indians turned out together to search for +Louizon Cadotte. Though he never in his life had set foot to any +expedition without first notifying his household, and it was not the +custom to hunt alone in the woods, his disappearance would not have +roused the settlement in so short a time had there been no windigo +hanging about the Sault. It was told that the windigo, who entered his +house again in the night, must have made way with him. + +Jacques Repentigny heard this with some amusement. Of windigos he had +no experience, but he had hunted and camped much of the summer with +Louizon. + +"I do not think he would let himself be knocked on the head by a +woman," said Jacques. + +"White chief doesn't know what helps a windigo," explained a Chippewa; +and the canoeman Jean Boucher interpreted him. "Bad spirit makes a +windigo strong as a bear. I saw this one. She stole my whitefish and +ate them raw." + +"Why didn't you give her cooked food when you saw her?" demanded +Jacques. + +"She would not eat that now. She likes offal better." + +"Yes, she was going to eat me," declared Michel Pensonneau. "After +she finished Monsieur Louizon, she got through the window to carry me +off." + +Michel enjoyed the windigo. Though he strummed on his lip and mourned +aloud whenever Madame Cadotte was by, he felt so comfortably full of +food and horror, and so important with his story, that life threatened +him with nothing worse than satiety. + +While parties went up the river and down the river, and talked about +the chutes in the rapids where a victim could be sucked down to death +in an instant, or about tracing the windigo's secret camp, Archange +hid herself in the attic. She lay upon Michel's bed and wept, or +walked the plank floor. It was no place for her. At noon the bark roof +heated her almost to fever. The dormer windows gave her little air, +and there was dust as well as something like an individual sediment of +the poverty from which the boy had come. Yet she could endure the loft +dungeon better than the face of the Chippewa mother who blamed her, +or the bluff excitement of Monsieur Cadotte. She could hear his voice +from time to time, as he ran in for spirits or provisions for parties +of searchers. And Archange had aversion, like the instinct of a maid, +to betraying fondness for her husband. She was furious with him, also, +for causing her pain. When she thought of the windigo, of the rapids, +of any peril which might be working his limitless absence, she set +clenched hands in her loosened hair and trembled with hysterical +anguish. But the enormity of his behavior if he were alive made her +hiss at the rafters. "Good, monsieur! Next time I will have four +officers. I will have the entire garrison sitting along the gallery! +Yes, and they shall be English, too. And there is one thing you will +never know, besides." She laughed through her weeping. "You will never +know I made eyes at a windigo." + +The preenings and posings of a creature whose perfections he once +thought were the result of a happy chance had made Louizon roar. She +remembered all their life together, and moaned, "I will say this: +he was the best husband that any girl ever had. We scarcely had a +disagreement. But to be the widow of a man who is eaten up--O Ste. +Marie!" + +In the clear August weather the wide river seemed to bring its +opposite shores nearer. Islands within a stone's throw of the +settlement, rocky drops in a boiling current, vividly showed their +rich foliage of pines. On one of these islands Father Dablon and +Father Marquette had built their first mission chapel; and though they +afterwards removed it to the mainland, the old tracery of foundation +stones could still be seen. The mountains of Lake Superior showed like +a cloud. On the ridge above fort and houses the Chippewa lodges were +pleasant in the sunlight, sending ribbons of smoke from their camp +fires far above the serrated edge of the woods. Naked Indian children +and their playmates of the settlement shouted to one another, as they +ran along the river margin, threats of instant seizure by the windigo. +The Chippewa widow, holding her husband in her arms, for she was +not permitted to hang him on her back, stood and talked with her +red-skinned intimates of the lodges. The Frenchwomen collected at the +seigniory house. As for the men of the garrison, they were obliged +to stay and receive the English then on the way from Detour. But +they came out to see the boats off with the concern of brothers, and +Archange's uncle, the post commandant, embraced Monsieur Cadotte. + +The priest and Jacques Repentigny did not speak to each other about +that wretched creature whose hoverings around the Sault were connected +with Louizon Cadotte's disappearance. But the priest went with +Louizon's father down the river, and Jacques led the party which took +the opposite direction. Though so many years had passed since Father +Dablon and Father Marquette built the first bark chapel, their +successor found his work very little easier than theirs had been. + +A canoe was missing from the little fleet usually tied alongshore, but +it was not the one belonging to Louizon. The young seignior took that +one, having Jean Boucher and Jean's son to paddle for him. No other +man of Sault Ste. Marie could pole up the rapids or paddle down them +as this expert Chippewa could. He had been baptized with a French +name, and his son after him, but no Chippewa of pure blood and name +looked habitually as he did into those whirlpools called the chutes, +where the slip of a paddle meant death. Yet nobody feared the rapids. +It was common for boys and girls to flit around near shore in birch +canoes, balancing themselves and expertly dipping up whitefish. + +Jean Boucher thrust out his boat from behind an island, and, turning +it as a fish glides, moved over thin sheets of water spraying upon +rocks. The fall of the Ste. Marie is gradual, but even at its upper +end there is a little hill to climb. Jean set his pole into the stone +floor of the river, and lifted the vessel length by length from crest +to crest of foam. His paddles lay behind him, and his arms were bare +to the elbows, showing their strong red sinews. He had let his hair +grow like a Frenchman's, and it hung forward shading his hatless +brows. A skin apron was girded in front of him to meet waves which +frothed up over the canoe's high prow. Blacksmith of the waters, he +beat a path between juts of rock; struggling to hold a point with the +pole, calling a quick word to his helper, and laughing as he forged +his way. Other voyagers who did not care to tax themselves with this +labor made a portage with their canoes alongshore, and started above +the glassy curve where the river bends down to its leap. + +Gros Cap rose in the sky, revealing its peak in bolder lines as the +searchers pushed up the Ste. Marie, exploring mile after mile of pine +and white birch and fantastic rock. The shaggy bank stooped to them, +the illimitable glory of the wilderness witnessing a little procession +of boats like chips floating by. + +It was almost sunset when they came back, the tired paddlers keeping +near that shore on which they intended to land. No trace of Louizon +Cadotte could be found; and those who had not seen the windigo were +ready to declare that there was no such thing about the Sault, when, +just above the rapids, she appeared from the dense up-slope of forest. + +Jacques Repentigny's canoe had kept the lead, but a dozen light-bodied +Chippewas sprung on shore and rushed past him into the bushes. + +The woman had disappeared in underbrush, but, surrounded by hunters +in full chase, she came running out, and fell on her hands, making +a hoarse noise in her throat. As she looked up, all the marks in her +aged aboriginal face were distinct to Jacques Repentigny. The sutures +in her temples were parted. She rolled herself around in a ball, and +hid her head in her dirty red blanket. Any wild beast was in harmony +with the wilderness, but this sick human being was a blot upon it. +Jacques felt the compassion of a god for her. Her pursuers were after +her, and the thud of stones they threw made him heartsick, as if the +thing were done to the woman he loved. + +"Let her alone!" he commanded fiercely. + +"Kill her!" shouted the hunters. "Hit the windigo on the head!" + +All that world of northern air could not sweeten her, but Jacques +picked her up without a thought of her offensiveness and ran to his +canoe. The bones resisted him; the claws scratched at him through her +blanket. Jean Boucher lifted a paddle to hit the creature as soon as +she was down. + +"If you strike her, I will kill you!" warned Jacques, and he sprung +into the boat. + +The superstitious Chippewas threw themselves madly into their canoes +to follow. It would go hard, but they would get the windigo and +take the young seignior out of her spell. The Frenchmen, with man's +instinct for the chase, were in full cry with them. + +Jean Boucher laid down his paddle sulkily, and his son did the same. +Jacques took a long pistol from his belt and pointed it at the old +Indian. + +"If you don't paddle for life, I will shoot you." And his eyes were +eyes which Jean respected as he never had respected anything before. +The young man was a beautiful fellow. If he wanted to save a windigo, +why, the saints let him. The priest might say a good word about it +when you came to think, also. + +"Where shall I paddle to?" inquired Jean Boucher, drawing in his +breath. The canoe leaped ahead, grazing hands stretched out to seize +it. + +"To the other side of the river." + +"Down the rapids?" + +"Yes." + +"Go down rough or go down smooth?" + +"Rough--rough--where they cannot catch you." + +The old canoeman snorted. He would like to see any of them catch him. +They were straining after him, and half a dozen canoes shot down that +glassy slide which leads to the rocks. + +It takes three minutes for a skillful paddler to run that dangerous +race of three quarters of a mile. Jean Boucher stood at the prow, and +the waves boiled as high as his waist. Jacques dreaded only that the +windigo might move and destroy the delicate poise of the boat; but she +lay very still. The little craft quivered from rock to rock without +grazing one, rearing itself over a great breaker or sinking under a +crest of foam. Now a billow towered up, and Jean broke it with his +paddle, shouting his joy. Showers fell on the woman coiled in the +bottom of the boat. They were going down very rough indeed. Yells from +the other canoes grew less distinct. Jacques turned his head, keeping +a true balance, and saw that their pursuers were skirting toward the +shore. They must make a long detour to catch him after he reached the +foot of the fall. + +The roar of awful waters met him as he looked ahead. Jean Boucher +drove the paddle down and spoke to his son. The canoe leaned sidewise, +sucked by the first chute, a caldron in the river bed where all Ste. +Marie's current seemed to go down, and whirl, and rise, and froth, and +roar. + +"Ha!" shouted Jean Boucher. His face glistened with beads of water and +the glory of mastering Nature. + +Scarcely were they past the first pit when the canoe plunged on the +verge of another. This sight was a moment of madness. The great chute, +lined with moving water walls and floored with whirling foam, bellowed +as if it were submerging the world. Columns of green water sheeted in +white rose above it and fell forward on the current. As the canoemen +held on with their paddles and shot by through spume and rain, every +soul in the boat exulted except the woman who lay flat on its keel. +The rapids gave a voyager the illusion that they were running uphill +to meet him, that they were breasting and opposing him instead of +carrying him forward. There was scarcely a breath between riding the +edge of the bottomless pit and shooting out on clear water. The rapids +were past, and they paddled for the other shore, a mile away. + +On the west side the green water seemed turning to fire, but as the +sunset went out, shadows sunk on the broad surface. The fresh evening +breath of a primitive world blew across it. Down river the channel +turned, and Jacques could see nothing of the English or of the other +party. His pursuers had decided to land at the settlement. + +It was twilight when Jean Boucher brought the canoe to pine woods +which met them at the edge of the water. The young Repentigny had been +wondering what he should do with his windigo. There was no settlement +on this shore, and had there been one it would offer no hospitality to +such as she was. His canoemen would hardly camp with her, and he had +no provisions. To keep her from being stoned or torn to pieces he had +made an inconsiderate flight. But his perplexity dissolved in a moment +before the sight of Louizon Cadotte coming out of the woods towards +them, having no hunting equipments and looking foolish. + +"Where have you been?" called Jacques. + +"Down this shore," responded Louizon. + +"Did you take a canoe and come out here last night?" + +"Yes, monsieur. I wished to be by myself. The canoe is below. I was +coming home." + +"It is time you were coming home, when all the men in the settlement +are searching for you, and all the women trying to console your mother +and your wife." + +"My wife--she is not then talking with any one on the gallery?" +Louizon's voice betrayed gratified revenge. + +"I do not know. But there is a woman in this canoe who might talk on +the gallery and complain to the priest against a man who has got her +stoned on his account." + +Louizon did not understand this, even when he looked at the heap of +dirty blanket in the canoe. + +"Who is it?" he inquired. + +"The Chippewas call her a windigo. They were all chasing her for +eating you up. But now we can take her back to the priest, and they +will let her alone when they see you. Where is your canoe?" + +"Down here among the bushes," answered Louizon. He went to get it, +ashamed to look the young seignior in the face. He was light-headed +from hunger and exposure, and what followed seemed to him afterwards a +piteous dream. + +"Come back!" called the young seignior, and Louizon turned back. The +two men's eyes met in a solemn look. + +"Jean Boucher says this woman is dead." + +Jean Boucher stood on the bank, holding the canoe with one hand, and +turning her unresisting face with the other. Jacques and Louizon took +off their hats. + +They heard the cry of the whip-poor-will. The river had lost all its +green and was purple, and purple shadows lay on the distant mountains +and opposite ridge. Darkness was mercifully covering this poor +demented Indian woman, overcome by the burdens of her life, aged +without being venerable, perhaps made hideous by want and sorrow. + +When they had looked at her in silence, respecting her because she +could no longer be hurt by anything in the world, Louizon whispered +aside to his seignior,-- + +"What shall we do with her?" + +"Bury her," the old canoeman answered for him. + +One of the party yet thought of taking her back to the priest. But she +did not belong to priests and rites. Jean Boucher said they could dig +in the forest mould with a paddle, and he and his son would make her a +grave. The two Chippewas left the burden to the young men. + +Jacques Repentigny and Louizon Cadotte took up the woman who, perhaps +had never been what they considered woman; who had missed the good, +and got for her portion the ignorance and degradation of the world; +yet who must be something to the Almighty, for he had sent youth and +love to pity and take care of her in her death. They carried her into +the woods between them. + + + + +THE KIDNAPED BRIDE. + +(For this story, little changed from the form in which it was handed +down to him, I am indebted to Dr. J.F. Snyder of Virginia, Illinois, +a descendant of the Saucier family. Even the title remains unchanged, +since he insisted on keeping the one always used by his uncle, Mathieu +Saucier. "Mon Oncle Mathieu," he says, "I knew well, and often sat +with breathless interest listening to his narration of incidents +in the early settlement of the Bottom lands. He was a very quiet, +dignified, and unobtrusive gentleman, and in point of common sense and +intelligence much above the average of the race to which he belonged; +but, like all the rest of the French stock, woefully wanting in energy +and never in a hurry. He was a splendid fiddler, and consequently a +favorite with all, especially the young folks, who easily pressed him +into service on all occasions to play for their numerous dances. He +died at Prairie du Pont, in 1863, at the age of eighty-one years. +His mother, Manette Le Compt, then a young girl, was one of the +bridesmaids of the kidnaped bride.") + + +Yes, the marshes were then in a chain along the foot of the bluffs: +Grand Marais, Marais de Bois Coupe, Marais de l'Ourse, Marais Perdu; +with a rigole here and there, straight as a canal, to carry the water +into the Mississippi. You do not see Cahokia beautiful as it was when +Monsieur St. Ange de Bellerive was acting as governor of the Illinois +Territory, and waiting at Fort Chartres for the British to take +possession after the conquest. Some people had indeed gone off to +Ste. Grenevieve, and to Pain Court, that you now call Sah Loui', where +Pontiac was afterwards buried under sweetbrier, and is to-day trampled +under pavements. An Indian killed Pontiac between Cahokia and Prairie +du Pont. When he rose from his body and saw it was not a British +knife, but a red man's tomahawk, he was not a chief who would lie +still and bear it in silence. Yes, I have heard that he has been +seen walking through the grapevine tangle, all bleached as if the bad +redness was burned out of him. But the priest will tell you better, my +son. Do not believe such tales. + +Besides, no two stories are alike. Pontiac was killed in his French +officer's uniform, which Monsieur de Montcalm gave him, and half the +people who saw him walking declared he wore that, while the rest swore +he was in buckskins and a blanket. You see how it is. A veritable +ghost would always appear the same, and not keep changing its clothes +like a vain girl. Paul Le Page had a fit one night from seeing the +dead chief with feathers in his hair, standing like stone in the white +French uniform. But do not credit such things. + +It was half a dozen years before Pontiac's death that Celeste Barbeau +was kidnaped on her wedding day. She lived at Prairie du Pont; and +though Prairie du Pont is but a mile and a half south of Cahokia, +the road was not as safe then as it now is. My mother was one of the +bridesmaids; she has told it over to me a score of times. The wedding +was to be in the church; the same church that now stands on the east +side of the square. And on the south side of the square was the old +auberge. Claudis Beauvois said you could get as good wines at that +tavern as you could in New Orleans. But the court-house was not +built until 1795. The people did not need a court-house. They had no +quarrels among themselves which the priest could not settle, and +after the British conquest their only enemies were those Puants, the +Pottawattamie Indians, who took the English side, and paid no regard +when peace was declared, but still tormented the French because there +was no military power to check them. You see the common fields across +the rigole. The Puants stole stock from the common fields, they +trampled down crops, and kidnaped children and even women, to be +ransomed for so many horses each. The French tried to be friendly, and +with presents and good words to induce the Puants to leave. But those +Puants--Oh, they were British Indians: nothing but whipping would take +the impudence out of them. + +Celeste Barbeau's father and mother lived at Prairie du Pont, and +Alexis Barbeau was the richest man in this part of the American +Bottom. When Alexis Barbeau was down on his knees at mass, people used +to say he counted his money instead of his beads; it was at least as +dear to him as religion. And when he came au Caho',[1] he hadn't a +word for a poor man. At Prairie du Pont he had built himself a fine +brick house; the bricks were brought from Philadelphia by way of New +Orleans. You have yourself seen it many a time, and the crack down +the side made by the great earthquake of 1811. There he lived like an +estated gentleman, for Prairie du Pont was then nothing but a cluster +of tenants around his feet. It was after his death that the village +grew. Celeste did not stay at Prairie du Pont; she was always au +Caho', with her grandmother and grandfather, the old Barbeaus. + +Along the south bank of this rigole which bounds the north end of +Caho' were all the pleasantest houses then: rez-de-chaussee, of +course, but large; with dormer windows in the roofs; and high of +foundation, having flights of steps going up to the galleries. For +though the Mississippi was a mile away in those days, and had not yet +eaten in to our very sides, it often came visiting. I have seen this +grassy-bottomed rigole many a time swimming with fifteen feet of +water, and sending ripples to the gallery steps. Between the marais +and the Mississippi, the spring rains were a perpetual danger. There +are men who want the marshes all filled up. They say it will add to us +on one side what the great river is taking from us on the other; but +myself--I would never throw in a shovelful: God made this world; it is +good enough; and when the water rises we can take to boats. + +The Le Compts lived in this very house, and the old Barbeaus lived +next, on the corner, where this rigole road crosses the street running +north and south. Every house along the rigole was set in spacious +grounds, with shade trees and gardens, and the sloping lawns blazed +with flowers. My mother said it was much prettier than Kaskaskia; not +crowded with traffic; not overrun with foreigners. Everybody seemed +to be making a fete, to be visiting or receiving visits. At sunset the +fiddle and the banjo began their melody. The young girls would gather +at Barbeau's or Le Compt's or Pensonneau's--at any one of a dozen +places, and the young men would follow. It was no trouble to have +a dance every evening, and on feast days and great days there were +balls, of course. The violin ran in my family. Celeste Barbeau would +call across the hedge to my mother,-- + +"Manette, will Monsieur Le Compt play for us again to-night?" + +And Monsieur Le Compt or anybody who could handle a bow would play for +her. Celeste was the life of the place: she sang like a lark, she was +like thistledown in the dance, she talked well, and was so handsome +that a stranger from New Orleans stopped in the street to gaze after +her. At the auberge he said he was going au Pay,[2] but after he saw +Celeste Barbeau he stayed in Caho'. I have heard my mother tell--who +often saw it combed out--that Celeste's long black hair hung below her +knees, though it was so curly that half its length was taken up by the +natural creping of the locks. + +The old French women, especially about Pain Court and Caho', loved +to go into their children's bedrooms and sit on the side of the bed, +telling stories half the night. It was part of the general good time. +And thus they often found out what the girls were thinking about; for +women of experience need only a hint. It is true old Madame Barbeau +had never been even au Kaw;[3] but one may live and grow wise without +crossing the rigoles north and south, or the bluffs and river east and +west. + +"Gra'mere, Manette is sleepy," Celeste would say, when my mother was +with her. + +"Well, I will go to my bed," the grandmother would promise. But still +she sat and joined in the chatter. Sometimes the girls would doze, and +wake in the middle of a long tale. But Madame Barbeau heard more than +she told, for she said to her husband:-- + +"It may come to pass that the widow Chartrant's Gabriel will be making +proposals to Alexis for little Celeste." + +"Poor lad," said the grandfather, "he has nothing to back his +proposals with. It will do him no good." + +And so it proved. Gabriel Chartrant was the leader of the young men +as Celeste was of the girls. But he only inherited the cedar house +his mother lived in. Those cedar houses were built in Caho' without +an ounce of iron; each cedar shingle was held to its place with cedar +pegs, and the boards of the floors fastened down in the same manner. +They had their galleries, too, all tightly pegged to place. Gabriel +was obliged to work, but he was so big he did not mind that. He was +made very straight, with a high-lifted head and a full chest. He could +throw any man in a wrestling match. And he was always first with +a kindness, and would nurse the sick, and he was not afraid of +contagious diseases or of anything. Gabriel could match Celeste as a +dancer, but it was not likely Alexis Barbeau would find him a match +in any other particular. And it grew more unlikely, every day that the +man from New Orleans spent in Caho'. + +The stranger said his name was Claudis Beauvois, and he was interested +in great mercantile houses both in Philadelphia and New Orleans, +and had come up the river to see the country. He was about fifty, a +handsome, easy man, with plenty of fine clothes and money, and before +he had been at the tavern a fortnight the hospitable people were +inviting him everywhere, and he danced with the youngest of them all. +There was about him what the city alone gives a man, and the mothers, +when they saw his jewels, considered that there was only one drawback +to marrying their daughters to Claudis Beauvois: his bride must travel +far from Caho'. + +But it was plain whose daughter he had fixed his mind upon, and Alexis +Barbeau would not make any difficulty about parting with Celeste. +She had lived away from him so much since her childhood that he would +scarcely miss her; and it was better to have a daughter well settled +in New Orleans than hampered by a poor match in her native village. +And this was what Gabriel Chartrant was told when he made haste to +propose for Celeste about the same time. + +"I have already accepted for my daughter much more gratifying offers +than any you can make. The banns will be put up next Sunday, and in +three weeks she will be Madame Beauvois." + +When Celeste heard this she was beside herself. She used to tell my +mother that Monsieur Beauvois walked as if his natural gait was on all +fours, and he still took to it when he was not watched. His shoulders +were bent forward, his hands were in his pockets, and he studied the +ground. She could not endure him. But the customs were very strict in +the matter of marriage. No French girl in those days could be so bold +as to reject the husband her father picked, and own that she preferred +some one else. Celeste was taken home to get ready for her wedding. +She hung on my mother's neck when choosing her for a bridesmaid, and +neither of the girls could comfort the other. Madame Barbeau was a fat +woman who loved ease, and never interfered with Alexis. She would +be disturbed enough by settling her daughter without meddling about +bridegrooms. The grandfather and grandmother were sorry for Gabriel +Chartrant, and tearful over Celeste; still, when you are forming +an alliance for your child, it is very imprudent to disregard great +wealth and by preference give her to poverty. Their son Alexis +convinced them of this; and he had always prospered. + +So the banns were put up in church for three weeks, and all Cahokia +was invited to the grand wedding. Alexis Barbeau regretted there was +not time to send to New Orleans for much that he wanted to fit his +daughter out and provide for his guests. + +"If he had sent there a month ago for some certainties about the +bridegroom it might be better," said Paul Le Page. "I have a cousin +in New Orleans who could have told us if he really is the great man he +pretends to be." But the women said it was plain Paul Le Page was one +of those who had wanted Celeste himself. The suspicious nature is a +poison. + +Gabriel Chartrant did not say anything for a week, but went along the +streets haggard, though with his head up, and worked as if he meant +to kill himself. The second week he spent his nights forming desperate +plans. The young men followed him as they always did, and they held +their meeting down the rigole, clustered together on the bank. They +could hear the frogs croak in the marais; it was dry, and the water +was getting low. Gabriel used to say he never heard a frog croak +afterwards without a sinking of the heart. It was the voice of misery. +But Gabriel had strong partisans in this council. Le Maudit Pensonneau +offered with his own hand to kill that interloping stranger whom he +called the old devil, and argued the matter vehemently when his offer +was declined. Le Maudit was a wild lad, so nervous that he stopped +at nothing in his riding or his frolics; and so got the name of the +Bewitched.[4] + +But the third week, Gabriel said he had decided on a plan which might +break off this detestable marriage if the others would help him. They +all declared they would do anything for him, and he then told them he +had privately sent word about it by Manette to Celeste; and Celeste +was willing to have it or any plan attempted which would prevent the +wedding. + +"We will dress ourselves as Puants," said Gabriel, "and make a rush on +the wedding party on the way to church, and carry off the bride." + +Le Maudit Pensonneau sprung up and danced with joy when he heard that. +Nothing would please him better than to dress as a Puant and carry off +a bride. The Cahokians were so used to being raided by the Puants that +they would readily believe such an attack had been made. That very +week the Puants had galloped at midnight, whooping through the town, +and swept off from the common fields a flock of Le Page's goats and +two of Larue's cattle. One might expect they would hear of such a +wedding as Celeste Barbeau's. Indeed, the people were so tired of the +Puants that they had sent urgently to St. Ange de Bellerive asking +that soldiers be marched from Fort Chartres to give them military +protection. + +It would be easy enough for the young men to make themselves look like +Indians. What one lacked another could supply. + +"But two of us cannot take any part in the raid," said Gabriel. "Two +must be ready at the river with a boat. And they must take Celeste as +fast as they can row up the river to Pain Court to my aunt Choutou. +My aunt Choutou will keep her safely until I can make some terms with +Alexis Barbeau. Maybe he will give me his daughter, if I rescue her +from the Puants. And if worst comes to worst, there is the missionary +priest at Pain Court; he may be persuaded to marry us. But who is +willing to be at the river?" + +Paul and Jacques Le Page said they would undertake the boat. They were +steady and trusty fellows and good river men; not so keen at riding +and hunting as the others, but in better favor with the priest on +account of their behavior. + +So the scheme was very well laid out, and the wedding day came, +clear and bright, as promising as any bride's day that ever was seen. +Claudis Beauvois and a few of his friends galloped off to Prairie du +Pont to bring the bride to church. The road from Caho' to Prairie du +Pont was packed on both sides with dense thickets of black oak, honey +locust, and red haws. Here and there a habitant had cut out a patch +and built his cabin; or a path broken by hunters trailed towards the +Mississippi. You ride the same track to-day, my child, only it is not +as shaggy and savage as the course then lay. + +And as soon as Claudis Beauvois was out of sight, Gabriel Chartrant +followed with his dozen French Puants, in feathers and buckskin, all +smeared with red and yellow ochre, well mounted and well armed. They +rode along until they reached the last path which turns off to the +river. At the end of that path, a mile away through the underbrush, +Paul and Jacques Le Page were stationed with a boat. The young men +with Gabriel dismounted and led their horses into the thicket to wait +for his signal. + +The birds had begun to sing just after three o'clock that clear +morning, for Celeste lying awake heard them; and they were keeping +it up in the bushes. Gabriel leaned his feathered head over the road, +listening for hoof-falls and watching for the first puff of dust in +the direction of Prairie du Pont. The road was not as well trodden +as it is now, and a little ridge of weeds grew along the centre, high +enough to rake the stirrup of a horseman. + +But in the distance, instead of the pat-a-pat of iron hoofs began a +sudden uproar of cries and wild whoops. Then a cloud of dust came in +earnest. Claudis Beauvois alone, without any hat, wild with fright, +was galloping towards Cahokia. Gabriel understood that something had +happened which ruined his own plan. He and his men sprung on their +horses and headed off the fugitive. The bridegroom who had passed that +way so lately with smiles, yelled and tried to wheel his horse into +the brush; but Gabriel caught his bridle and demanded to know what was +the matter. As soon as he heard the French tongue spoken he begged for +his life, and to know what more they required of him, since the rest +of their band had already taken his bride. They made him tell them the +facts. The real Puants had attacked the wedding procession before it +was out of sight of Prairie du Pont, and had scattered it and carried +off Celeste. He did not know what had become of anybody except +himself, after she was taken. + +Gabriel gave his horse a cut which was like a kick to its rider. +He shot ahead, glad to pass what he had taken for a second body of +Indians, and Le Maudit Pensonneau hooted after him. + +"The miserable coward. I wish I had taken his scalp. He makes me feel +a very good Puant indeed." + +"Who cares what becomes of him?" said Gabriel. "It is Celeste that +we want. The real Puants have got ahead of us and kidnaped the bride. +Will any of you go with me?" + +The poor fellow was white as ashes. Not a man needed to ask him where +he was going, but they all answered in a breath and dashed after him. +They broke directly through the thicket on the opposite side of the +road, and came out into the tall prairie grass. They knew every path, +marais, and rigole for miles around, and took their course eastward, +correctly judging that the Indians would follow the line of the bluffs +and go north. Splash went their horses among the reeds of sloughs and +across sluggish creeks, and by this short cut they soon came on the +fresh trail. + +At Falling Spring they made a halt to rest the horses a few minutes, +and wash the red and yellow paint off their hands and faces; then +galloped on along the rocky bluffs up the Bottom lands. But after a +few miles they saw they had lost the trail. Closely scouting in every +direction, they had to go back to Falling Spring, and there at last +they found that the Indians had left the Bottom and by a winding path +among rocks ascended to the uplands. Much time was lost. They had +heard, while they galloped, the church bell tolling alarm in Cahokia, +and they knew how the excitable inhabitants were running together +at Beauvois' story, the women weeping and the men arming themselves, +calling a council, and loading with contempt a runaway bridegroom. + +Gabriel and his men, with their faces set north, hardly glanced +aside to see the river shining along its distant bed. But one of them +thought of saying,-- + +"Paul and Jacques will have a long wait with the boat." + +The sun passed over their heads, and sunk hour by hour, and set. The +western sky was red; and night began to close in, and still they urged +their tired horses on. There would be a moon a little past its full, +and they counted on its light when it should rise. + +The trail of the Puants descended to the Bottom again at the head of +the Grand Marais. There was heavy timber here. The night shadow of +trees and rocks covered them, and they began to move more cautiously, +for all signs pointed to a camp. And sure enough, when they had passed +an abutment of the ridge, far off through the woods they saw a fire. + +My son (mon Oncle Mathieu would say at this point of the story), will +you do me the favor to bring me a coal for my pipe? + +(The coal being brought in haste, he put it into the bowl with his +finger and thumb, and seemed to doze while he drew at the stem. The +smoke puffed deliberately from his lips, while all the time that +mysterious fire was burning in the woods for my impatience to dance +upon with hot feet, above the Grand Marais!) + +Oh, yes, Gabriel and his men were getting very close to the Puants. +They dismounted, and tied their horses in a crabapple thicket and +crept forward on foot. He halted them, and crawled alone toward the +light to reconnoitre, careful not to crack a twig or make the least +noise. The nearer he crawled the more his throat seemed to choke up +and his ears to fill with buzzing sounds. The camp fire showed him +Celeste tied to a tree. She looked pale and dejected, and her head +rested against the tree stem, but her eyes kept roving the darkness in +every direction as if she expected rescue. Her bridal finery had been +torn by the bushes and her hair was loose, but Gabriel had never seen +Celeste when she looked so beautiful. + +Thirteen big Puants were sitting around the camp fire eating their +supper of half-raw meat. Their horses were hobbled a little beyond, +munching such picking as could be found among the fern. Gabriel went +back as still as a snake and whispered his orders to his men. + +Every Frenchman must pick the Puant directly in front of him, and be +sure to hit that Puant. If the attack was half-hearted and the Indians +gained time to rally, Celeste would suffer the consequences; they +could kill her or escape with her. If you wish to gain an Indian's +respect you must make a neat job of shooting him down. He never +forgives a bungler. + +"And then," said Gabriel, "we will rush in with our knives and +hatchets. It must be all done in a moment." + +The men reprimed their flintlocks, and crawled forward abreast. +Gabriel was at the extreme right. When they were near enough he gave +his signal, the nasal singing of the rattlesnake. The guns cracked all +together, and every Cahokian sprung up to finish the work with knife +and hatchet. Nine of the Puants fell dead, and the rest were gone +before the smoke cleared. They left their meat, their horses, and +arms. They were off like deer, straight through the woods to any place +of safety. Every marksman had taken the Indian directly in front of +him, but as they were abreast and the Puants in a circle, those +four on the opposite side of the fire had been sheltered. Le Maudit +Pensonneau scalped the red heads by the fire and hung the scalps in +his belt. Our French people took up too easily, indeed, with savage +ways; but Le Maudit Pensonneau was always full of his pranks. + +Oh, yes, Gabriel himself untied Celeste. She was wild with joy, and +cried on Gabriel's shoulder; and all the young men who had taken their +first communion with Gabriel and had played with this dear girl when +she was a child, felt the tears come into their own eyes. All but Le +Maudit Pensonneau. He was busy rounding up the horses. + +"Here's my uncle Larue's filly that was taken two weeks ago," said Le +Maudit, calling from the hobbling place. "And here are the blacks that +Ferland lost, and Pierre's pony--half these horses are Caho' horses." + +He tied them together so that they could be driven two or three +abreast ahead of the party, and then he gathered up all the guns left +by the Indians. + +Gabriel now called a council, for it had to be decided directly what +they should do next. Pain Court was seven miles in a straight line +from the spot where they stood; while Cahokia was ten miles to the +southwest. + +"Would it not be best to go at once to Pain Court?" said Gabriel. +"Celeste, after this frightful day, needs food and sleep as soon as +she can get them, and my aunt Choutou is ready for her. And boats can +always be found opposite Pain Court." + +All the young men were ready to go to Pain Court. They really thought, +even after all that had happened, that it would be wisest to deal with +Alexis Barbeau at a distance. But Celeste herself decided the matter. +Gabriel had not let go of her. He kept his hand on her as if afraid +she might be kidnaped again. + +"We will go home to my grandfather and grandmother au Caho'," said +Celeste. "I will not go anywhere else." + +"But you forget that Beauvois is au Caho'?" said one of the young men. + +"Oh, I never can forget anything connected with this day," said +Celeste, and the tears ran down her face. "I never can forget how +willingly I let those Puants take me, and I laughed as one of them +flung me on the horse behind him. We were nearly to the bluffs before +I spoke. He did not say anything, and the others all had eyes which +made me shudder. I pressed my hands on his buckskin sides and said +to him, 'Gabriel.' And he turned and looked at me. I never had seen a +feature of his frightful face before. And then I understood that the +real Puants had me. Do you think I will ever marry anybody but the +man who took me away from them? No. If worst comes to worst, I will +go before the high altar and the image of the Holy Virgin, and make a +public vow never to marry anybody else." + +The young men flung up their arms in the air and raised a hurrah. Hats +they had none to swing. Their cheeks were burnt by the afternoon sun. +They were hungry and thirsty, and so tired that any one of them could +have flung himself on the old leaves and slept as soon as he stretched +himself. But it put new heart in them to see how determined she was. + +So the horses were brought up, and the captured guns were packed upon +some of the recovered ponies. There were some new blankets strapped on +the backs of these Indian horses, and Gabriel took one of the blankets +and secured it as a pillion behind his own saddle for Celeste to ride +upon. As they rode out of the forest shadow they could see the moon +just coming up over the hills beyond the great Cahokian mound. + +It was midnight when the party trampled across the rigole bridge into +Cahokia streets. The people were sleeping with one eye open. All +day, stragglers from the wedding procession had been coming in, and a +company was organized for defense and pursuit. They had heard that the +whole Pottawattamie nation had risen. And since Celeste Barbeau was +kidnaped, anything might be expected. Gabriel and his men were missed +early, but the excitement was so great that their unexplained absence +was added without question to the general calamity. Candles showed +at once, and men with gun barrels shining in the moonlight gathered +quickly from all directions. + +"Friends, friends!" Celeste called out; for the young men in buckskin, +with their booty of driven horses, were enough like Puants to be in +danger of a volley. "It is Celeste. Gabriel Chartrant and his men have +killed the Indians and brought me back." + +"It is Celeste Barbeau! Gabriel Chartrant and his men have killed the +Indians and brought her back!" the word was passed on. + +Her grandfather hung to her hand on one side of the horse, and her +grandmother embraced her knees on the other. The old father was in his +red nightcap and the old mother had pulled slippers on her bare feet. +But without a thought of their appearance they wept aloud and fell on +the neighbors' necks, and the neighbors fell upon each others' necks. +Some kneeled down in the dust and returned thanks to the saints they +had invoked. The auberge keeper and three old men who smoked their +pipes steadily on his gallery every day took hold of hands and danced +in a circle. Children who had waked to shriek with fear galloped +the streets to proclaim at every window, "Celeste Barbeau is brought +back!" The whole town was in a delirium of joy. Manette Le Compt, who +had been brought home with the terrified bridesmaids and laughed in +her sleeve all day because she thought Gabriel and his men were the +Puants, leaned against a wall and turned sick. I have heard her say +she never was so confused in her life as when she saw the driven +horses, and the firearms, and those coarse-haired scalps hanging to Le +Maudit Pensonneau's belt. The moon showed them all distinctly. Manette +had thought it laughable when she heard that Alexis Barbeau was shut +up in his brick house at Prairie du Pont, with all the men and guns +he could muster to protect his property; but now she wept indignantly +about it. + +The priest had been the first man in the street, having lain down in +all his clothes except his cassock, and he heartily gave Celeste +and the young men his blessing, and counseled everybody to go to bed +again. But Celeste reminded them that she was hungry, and as for the +rescuers, they had ridden hard all day without a mouthful to eat. So +the whole town made a feast, everybody bringing the best he had to +Barbeau's house. They spread the table and crowded around, leaning +over each, other's shoulders to take up bits in their hands and eat +with and talk to the young people. Gabriel's mother sat beside him +with her arm around him, and opposite was Celeste with her grandfather +and grandmother, and all the party were ranged around. The feathers +had been blown out of their hair by that long chase, but their +buckskins were soiled, and the hastily washed colors yet smeared their +ears and necks. Yet this supper was quite like a bridal feast. Ah, +my child, we never know it when we are standing in the end of the +rainbow. Gabriel and Celeste might live a hundred years, but they +could never be quite as happy again. + +Paul and Jacques Le Page sat down with the other young men, and the +noise of tongues in Barbeau's house could be heard out by the rigole. +It was like the swarming of wild bees. Paul and Jacques had waited +with the boat until nightfall. They heard the firing when the Puants +took Celeste, and watched hour after hour for some one to appear from +the path; but at last concluding that Gabriel had been obliged to +change his plan, they rowed back to Caho'. + +Claudis Beauvois was the only person who did not sit up talking until +dawn. And nobody thought about him until noon the next day, when +Captain Jean Saucier with a company of fusileers rode into the village +from Fort Chartres. + +That was the first time my mother ever saw Captain Saucier. Your uncle +Francois in Kaskaskia, he was also afterward Captain Saucier. I was +not born until they had been married fifteen years. I was the last +of their children. So Celeste Barbeau was kidnaped the day before my +mother met my father. + +Glad as the Cahokians were to see them, the troops were no longer +needed, for the Puants had gone. They were frightened out of the +country. Oh, yes, all those Indians wanted was a good whipping, and +they got it. Alexis Barbeau had come along with the soldiers from +Prairie du Pont, and he was not the only man who had made use of +military escort. Basil Le Page had come up from New Orleans in the +last fleet of pirogues to Kaskaskia. There he heard so much about the +Puants that he bought a swift horse and armed himself for the ride +northward, and was glad when he reached Fort Chartres to ride into +Cahokia with Captain Saucier. + +You might say Basil Le Page came in at one end of Cahokia and Claudis +Beauvois went out at the other. For they knew one another directly, +and it was noised in a minute that Basil said to his cousins Paul and +Jacques:-- + +"What is that notorious swindler and gambler doing here? He left New +Orleans suddenly, or he would be in prison now, and you will see if he +stops here long after recognizing me." + +Claudis Beauvois did not turn around in the street to look at any +woman, rich or poor, when he left Cahokia, though how he left was not +certainly known. Alexis Barbeau and his other associates knew better +how their pockets were left. + +Oh, yes, Alexis Barbeau was very willing for Celeste to marry Gabriel +after that. He provided for them handsomely, and gave presents to each +of the young men who had helped to take his daughter from the Puants; +and he was so ashamed of the son-in-law he had wanted, that he never +could endure to hear the man's name mentioned afterward. Alexis +and the tavern-keeper used--when they were taking a social cup +together--to hug each other without a word. The fine guest who had +lived so long at the auberge and drank so much good wine, which was as +fine as any in New Orleans, without expense, was as sore a memory +to the poor landlord as to the rich landowner. But Celeste and +Gabriel--my mother said when they were married the dancing and +fiddling and feasting were kept up an entire week in Caho'. + + +[Footnote 1: To Cahokia.] + +[Footnote 2: To Peoria.] + +[Footnote 3: To Kaskaskia.] + +[Footnote 4: Cahokian softening of cursed.] + + + + +PONTIAC'S LOOKOUT. + + +Jenieve Lalotte came out of the back door of her little house on +Mackinac beach. The front door did not open upon either street of the +village; and other domiciles were scattered with it along the strand, +each little homestead having a front inclosure palisaded with oaken +posts. Wooded heights sent a growth of bushes and young trees down to +the pebble rim of the lake. + +It had been raining, and the island was fresh as if new made. Boats +and bateaux, drawn up in a great semicircle about the crescent bay, +had also been washed; but they kept the marks of their long voyages +to the Illinois Territory, or the Lake Superior region, or Canada. The +very last of the winterers were in with their bales of furs, and some +of these men were now roaring along the upper street in new clothes, +exhilarated by spending on good cheer in one month the money it +took them eleven months to earn. While in "hyvernements," or winter +quarters, and on the long forest marches, the allowance of food per +day, for a winterer, was one quart of corn and two ounces of tallow. +On this fare the hardiest voyageurs ever known threaded a pathless +continent and made a great traffic possible. But when they returned to +the front of the world,--that distributing point in the straits,--they +were fiercely importunate for what they considered the best the world +afforded. + +A segment of rainbow showed over one end of Round Island. The sky was +dull rose, and a ship on the eastern horizon turned to a ship of fire, +clean-cut and poised, a glistening object on a black bar of water. The +lake was still, with blackness in its depths. The American flag on the +fort rippled, a thing of living light, the stripes transparent. High +pink clouds were riding down from the north, their flush dying as they +piled aloft. There were shadings of peacock colors in the shoal water. +Jenieve enjoyed this sunset beauty of the island, as she ran over the +rolling pebbles, carrying some leather shoes by their leather strings. +Her face was eager. She lifted the shoes to show them to three little +boys playing on the edge of the lake. + +"Come here. See what I have for you." + +"What is it?" inquired the eldest, gazing betwixt the hairs scattered +on his face; he stood with his back to the wind. His bare shins +reddened in the wash of the lake, standing beyond its rim of shining +gravel. + +"Shoes," answered Jenieve, in a note triumphant over fate. + +"What's shoes?" asked the smallest half-breed, tucking up his smock +around his middle. + +"They are things to wear on your feet," explained Jenieve; and her +red-skinned half-brothers heard her with incredulity. She had told +their mother, in their presence, that she intended to buy the children +some shoes when she got pay for her spinning; and they thought it +meant fashions from the Fur Company's store to wear to mass, but never +suspected she had set her mind on dark-looking clamps for the feet. + +"You must try them on," said Jenieve, and they all stepped +experimentally from the water, reluctant to submit. But Jenieve was +mistress in the house. There is no appeal from a sister who is a +father to you, and even a substitute for your living mother. + +"You sit down first, Francois, and wipe your feet with this cloth." + +The absurdity of wiping his feet before he turned in for the night +tickled Francois, though he was of a strongly aboriginal cast, and he +let himself grin. Jenieve helped him struggle to encompass his lithe +feet with the clumsy brogans. + +"You boys are living like Indians." + +"We are Indians," asserted Francois. + +"But you are French, too. You are my brothers. I want you to go to +mass looking as well as anybody." + +Hitherto their object in life had been to escape mass. They objected +to increasing their chances of church-going. Moccasins were the +natural wear of human beings, and nobody but women needed even +moccasins until cold weather. The proud look of an Iroquois taking +spoils disappeared from the face of the youngest, giving way to uneasy +anguish. The three boys sat down to tug, Jenieve going encouragingly +from one to another. Francois lay on his back and pushed his heels +skyward. Contempt and rebellion grew also in the faces of Gabriel +and Toussaint. They were the true children of Francois Iroquois, her +mother's second husband, who had been wont to lounge about Mackinac +village in dirty buckskins and a calico shirt having one red and one +blue sleeve. He had also bought a tall silk hat at the Fur Company's +store, and he wore the hat under his blanket when it rained. If +tobacco failed him, he scraped and dried willow peelings, and called +them kinnickinnick. This worthy relation had worked no increase in +Jenieve's home except an increase of children. He frequently yelled +around the crescent bay, brandishing his silk hat in the exaltation of +rum. And when he finally fell off the wharf into deep water, and was +picked out to make another mound in the Indian burying-ground, Jenieve +was so fiercely elated that she was afraid to confess it to the +priest. Strange matches were made on the frontier, and Indian wives +were commoner than any other kind; but through the whole mortifying +existence of this Indian husband Jenieve avoided the sight of him, and +called her mother steadily Mama Lalotte. The girl had remained with +her grandmother, while Francois Iroquois carried off his wife to the +Indian village on a western height of the island. Her grandmother had +died, and Jenieve continued to keep house on the beach, having always +with her one or more of the half-breed babies, until the plunge +of Francois Iroquois allowed her to bring them all home with their +mother. There was but one farm on the island, and Jenieve had all the +spinning which the sheep afforded. She was the finest spinner in that +region. Her grandmother had taught her to spin with a little wheel, +as they still do about Quebec. Her pay was small. There was not much +money then in the country, but bills of credit on the Fur Company's +store were the same as cash, and she managed to feed her mother and +the Indian's family. Fish were to be had for the catching, and +she could get corn-meal and vegetables for her soup pot in partial +exchange for her labor. The luxuries of life on the island were air +and water, and the glories of evening and morning. People who could +buy them got such gorgeous clothes as were brought by the Company. +But usually Jenieve felt happy enough when she put on her best red +homespun bodice and petticoat for mass or to go to dances. She did +wish for shoes. The ladies at the fort had shoes, with heels which +clicked when they danced. Jenieve could dance better, but she always +felt their eyes on her moccasins, and came to regard shoes as the +chief article of one's attire. + +Though the joy of shoeing her brothers was not to be put off, she +had not intended to let them keep on these precious brogans of +civilization while they played beside the water. But she suddenly saw +Mama Lalotte walking along the street near the lake with old Michel +Pensonneau. Beyond these moving figures were many others, of engages +and Indians, swarming in front of the Fur Company's great warehouse. +Some were talking and laughing; others were in a line, bearing bales +of furs from bateaux just arrived at the log-and-stone wharf stretched +from the centre of the bay. But all of them, and curious women peeping +from their houses on the beach, particularly Jean Bati' McClure's +wife, could see that Michel Pensonneau was walking with Mama Lalotte. + +This sight struck cold down Jenieve's spine. Mama Lalotte was really +the heaviest charge she had. Not twenty minutes before had that +flighty creature been set to watch the supper pot, and here she +was, mincing along, and fixing her pale blue laughing eyes on Michel +Pensonneau, and bobbing her curly flaxen head at every word he spoke. +A daughter who has a marrying mother on her hands may become morbidly +anxious; Jenieve felt she should have no peace of mind during the +month the coureurs-de-bois remained on the island. Whether they +arrived early or late, they had soon to be off to the winter +hunting-grounds; yet here was an emergency. + +"Mama Lalotte!" called Jenieve. Her strong young fingers beckoned with +authority. "Come here to me. I want you." + +The giddy parent, startled and conscious, turned a conciliating smile +that way. "Yes, Jenieve," she answered obediently, "I come." But she +continued to pace by the side of Michel Pensonneau. + +Jenieve desired to grasp her by the shoulder and walk her into the +house; but when the world, especially Jean Bati' McClure's wife, is +watching to see how you manage an unruly mother, it is necessary to +use some adroitness. + +"Will you please come here, dear Mama Lalotte? Toussaint wants you." + +"No, I don't!" shouted Toussaint. "It is Michel Pensonneau I want, to +make me some boats." + +The girl did not hesitate. She intercepted the couple, and took her +mother's arm in hers. The desperation of her act appeared to her while +she was walking Mama Lalotte home; still, if nothing but force will +restrain a parent, you must use force. + +Michel Pensonneau stood squarely in his moccasins, turning redder +and redder at the laugh of his cronies before the warehouse. He was +dressed in new buckskins, and their tawny brightness made his florid +cheeks more evident. Michel Pensonneau had been brought up by the +Cadottes of Sault Ste. Marie, and he had rich relations at Cahokia, +in the Illinois Territory. If he was not as good as the family of +Francois Iroquois, he wanted to know the reason why. It is true, he +was past forty and a bachelor. To be a bachelor, in that region, where +Indian wives were so plenty and so easily got rid of, might bring +some reproach on a man. Michel had begun to see that it did. He was +an easy, gormandizing, good fellow, shapelessly fat, and he never had +stirred himself during his month of freedom to do any courting. But +Frenchmen of his class considered fifty the limit of an active life. +It behooved him now to begin looking around; to prepare a fireside for +himself. Michel was a good clerk to his employers. Cumbrous though his +body might be, when he was in the woods he never shirked any hardship +to secure a specially fine bale of furs. + +Mama Lalotte, propelled against her will, sat down, trembling, in the +house. Jenieve, trembling also, took the wooden bowls and spoons from +a shelf and ladled out soup for the evening meal. Mama Lalotte was +always willing to have the work done without trouble to herself, and +she sat on a three-legged stool, like a guest. The supper pot boiled +in the centre of the house, hanging on the crane which was fastened to +a beam overhead. Smoke from the clear fire passed that richly darkened +transverse of timber as it ascended, and escaped through a hole in +the bark roof. The Fur Company had a great building with chimneys; +but poor folks were glad to have a cedar hut of one room, covered with +bark all around and on top. A fire-pit, or earthen hearth, was left +in the centre, and the nearer the floor could be brought to this hole, +without danger, the better the house was. On winter nights, fat French +and half-breed children sat with heels to this sunken altar, and heard +tales of massacre or privation which made the family bunks along the +wall seem couches of luxury. It was the aboriginal hut patterned after +his Indian brother's by the Frenchman; and the succession of British +and American powers had not yet improved it. To Jenieve herself, the +crisis before her, so insignificant against the background of that +historic island, was more important than massacre or conquest. + +"Mama,"--she spoke tremulously,--"I was obliged to bring you in. It is +not proper to be seen on the street with an engage". The town is now +full of these bush-lopers." + +"Bush-lopers, mademoiselle!" The little flaxen-haired woman had a +shrill voice. "What was your own father?" + +"He was a clerk, madame," maintained the girl's softer treble, "and +always kept good credit for his family at the Company's store." + +"I see no difference. They are all the same." + +"Francois Iroquois was not the same." As the girl said this she felt a +powder-like flash from her own eyes. + +Mama Lalotte was herself a little ashamed of the Francois Iroquois +alliance, but she answered, "He let me walk outside the house, at +least. You allow me no amusement at all. I cannot even talk over the +fence to Jean Bati' McClure's wife." + +"Mama, you do not understand the danger of all these things, and I do. +Jean Bati' McClure's wife will be certain to get you into trouble. +She is not a proper woman for you to associate with. Her mind runs on +nothing but match-making." + +"Speak to her, then, for yourself. I wish you would get married." + +"I never shall," declared Jenieve. "I have seen the folly of it." + +"You never have been young," complained Mama Lalotte. "You don't know +how a young person feels. + +"I let you go to the dances," argued Jenieve. "You have as good a +time as any woman on the island. But old Michel Pensonneau," she added +sternly, "is not settling down to smoke his pipe for the remainder of +his life on this doorstep." + +"Monsieur Pensonneau is not old." + +"Do you take up for him, Mama Lalotte, in spite of me?" In the girl's +rich brunette face the scarlet of the cheeks deepened. "Am I not more +to you than Michel Pensonneau or any other engage? He is old; he is +past forty. Would I call him old if he were no more than twenty?" + +"Every one cannot be only twenty and a young agent," retorted her +elder; and Jenieve's ears and throat reddened, also. + +"Have I not done my best for you and the boys? Do you think it does +not hurt me to be severe with you?" + +Mama Lalotte flounced around on her stool, but made no reply. She saw +peeping and smiling at the edge of the door a neighbor's face, that +encouraged her insubordinations. Its broad, good-natured upper +lip thinly veiled with hairs, its fleshy eyelids and thick brows, +expressed a strength which she had not, yet would gladly imitate. + +"Jenieve Lalotte," spoke the neighbor, "before you finish whipping +your mother you had better run and whip the boys. They are throwing +their shoes in the lake." + +"Their shoes!" Jenieve cried, and she scarcely looked at Jean Bati' +McClure's wife, but darted outdoors along the beach. + +"Oh, children, have you lost your shoes?" + +"No," answered Toussaint, looking up with a countenance full of +enjoyment. + +"Where are they?" + +"In the lake." + +"You didn't throw your new shoes in the lake?" + +"We took them for boats," said Gabriel freely. "But they are not even +fit for boats." + +"I threw mine as far as I could," observed Francois. "You can't make +anything float in them." + +She could see one of them stranded on the lake bottom, loaded with +stones, its strings playing back and forth in the clear water. The +others were gone out to the straits. Jenieve remembered all her toil +for them, and her denial of her own wants that she might give to these +half-savage boys, who considered nothing lost that they threw into the +lake. + +She turned around to run to the house. But there stood Jean Bati' +McClure's wife, talking through the door, and encouraging her mother +to walk with coureurs-de-bois. The girl's heart broke. She took to the +bushes to hide her weeping, and ran through them towards the path she +had followed so many times when her only living kindred were at the +Indian village. The pine woods received her into their ascending +heights, and she mounted towards sunset. + +Panting from her long walk, Jenieve came out of the woods upon a +grassy open cliff, called by the islanders Pontiac's Lookout, because +the great war chief used to stand on that spot, forty years before, +and gaze southward, as if he never could give up his hope of the union +of his people. Jenieve knew the story. She had built playhouses +here, when a child, without being afraid of the old chief's lingering +influence; for she seemed to understand his trouble, and this night +she was more in sympathy with Pontiac than ever before in her life. +She sat down on the grass, wiping the tears from her hot cheeks, +her dark eyes brooding on the lovely straits. There might be more +beautiful sights in the world, but Jenieve doubted it; and a white +gull drifted across her vision like a moving star. + +Pontiac's Lookout had been the spot from which she watched her +father's bateau disappear behind Round Island. He used to go by way of +Detroit to the Canadian woods. Here she wept out her first grief for +his death; and here she stopped, coming and going between her mother +and grandmother. The cliff down to the beach was clothed with a thick +growth which took away the terror of falling, and many a time Jenieve +had thrust her bare legs over the edge to sit and enjoy the outlook. + +There were old women on the island who could remember seeing Pontiac. +Her grandmother had told her how he looked. She had heard that, though +his bones had been buried forty years beside the Mississippi, he yet +came back to the Lookout every night during that summer month when +all the tribes assembled at the island to receive money from a new +government. He could not lie still while they took a little metal and +ammunition in their hands in exchange for their country. As for the +tribes, they enjoyed it. Jenieve could see their night fires begin to +twinkle on Round Island and Bois Blanc, and the rising hubbub of their +carnival came to her like echoes across the strait. There was one +growing star on the long hooked reef which reached out from Round +Island, and figures of Indians were silhouetted against the lake, +running back and forth along that high stone ridge. Evening coolness +stole up to Jenieve, for the whole water world was purpling; and sweet +pine and cedar breaths, humid and invisible, were all around her. Her +trouble grew small, laid against the granite breast of the island, and +the woods darkened and sighed behind her. Jenieve could hear the shout +of some Indian boy at the distant village. She was not afraid, but her +shoulders contracted with a shiver. The place began to smell rankly +of sweetbrier. There was no sweetbrier on the cliff or in the woods, +though many bushes grew on alluvial slopes around the bay. Jenieve +loved the plant, and often stuck a piece of it in her bosom. But this +was a cold smell, striking chill to the bones. Her flesh and hair +and clothes absorbed the scent, and it cooled her nostrils with its +strange ether, the breath of sweetbrier, which always before seemed +tinctured by the sun. She had a sensation of moving sidewise out of +her own person; and then she saw the chief Pontiac standing on the +edge of the cliff. Jenieve knew his back, and the feathers in his hair +which the wind did not move. His head turned on a pivot, sweeping the +horizon from St. Ignace, where the white man first set foot, to Round +Island, where the shameful fires burned. His hard, set features were +silver color rather than copper, as she saw his profile against the +sky. His arms were folded in his blanket. Jenieve was as sure that she +saw Pontiac as she was sure of the rock on which she sat. She poked +one finger through the sward to the hardness underneath. The rock was +below her, and Pontiac stood before her. He turned his head back from +Round Island to St. Ignace. The wind blew against him, and the brier +odor, sickening sweet, poured over Jenieve. + +She heard the dogs bark in Mackinac village, and leaves moving behind +her, and the wash of water at the base of the island which always +sounded like a small rain. Instead of feeling afraid, she was in a +nightmare of sorrow. Pontiac had loved the French almost as well as +he loved his own people. She breathed the sweetbrier scent, her neck +stretched forward and her dark eyes fixed on him; and as his head +turned back from St. Ignace his whole body moved with it, and he +looked at Jenieve. + +His eyes were like a cat's in the purple darkness, or like that +heatless fire which shines on rotting bark. The hoar-frosted +countenance was noble even in its most brutal lines. Jenieve, without +knowing she was saying a word, spoke out:-- + +"Monsieur the chief Pontiac, what ails the French and Indians?" + +"Malatat," answered Pontiac. The word came at her with force. + +"Monsieur the chief Pontiac," repeated Jenieve, struggling to +understand, "I say, what ails the French and Indians?" + +"Malatat!" His guttural cry rang through the bushes. Jenieve was so +startled that she sprung back, catching herself on her hands. But +without the least motion of walking he was far westward, showing like +a phosphorescent bar through the trees, and still moving on, until the +pallor was lost from sight. + +Jenieve at once began to cross herself. She had forgotten to do it +before. The rankness of sweetbrier followed her some distance down the +path, and she said prayers all the way home. + +You cannot talk with great spirits and continue to chafe about little +things. The boys' shoes and Mama Lalotte's lightness were the same +as forgotten. Jenieve entered her house with dew in her hair, and +an unterrified freshness of body for whatever might happen. She was +certain she had seen Pontiac, but she would never tell anybody to have +it laughed at. There was no candle burning, and the fire had almost +died under the supper pot. She put a couple of sticks on the coals, +more for their blaze than to heat her food. But the Mackinac night +was chill, and it was pleasant to see the interior of her little home +flickering to view. Candles were lighted in many houses along the +beach, and amongst them Mama Lalotte was probably roaming,--for she +had left the door open towards the lake,--and the boys' voices could +be heard with others in the direction of the log wharf. + +Jenieve took her supper bowl and sat down on the doorstep. The light +cloud of smoke, drawn up to the roof-hole, ascended behind her, +forming an azure gray curtain against which her figure showed, +round-wristed and full-throated. The starlike camp fires on Round +Island were before her, and the incessant wash of the water on its +pebbles was company to her. Somebody knocked on the front door. + +"It is that insolent Michel Pensonneau," thought Jenieve. "When he +is tired he will go away." Yet she was not greatly surprised when the +visitor ceased knocking and came around the palisades. + +"Good-evening, Monsieur Crooks," said Jenieve. + +"Good-evening, mademoiselle," responded Monsieur Crooks, and he leaned +against the hut side, cap in hand, where he could look at her. He had +never yet been asked to enter the house. Jenieve continued to eat her +supper. + +"I hope monsieur your uncle is well?" + +"My uncle is well. It isn't necessary for me to inquire about madame +your mother, for I have just seen her sitting on McClure's doorstep." + +"Oh," said Jenieve. + +The young man shook his cap in a restless hand. Though he spoke French +easily, he was not dressed like an engage, and he showed through the +dark the white skin of the Saxon. + +"Mademoiselle Jenieve,"--he spoke suddenly,--"you know my uncle is +well established as agent of the Fur Company, and as his assistant I +expect to stay here." + +"Yes, monsieur. Did you take in some fine bales of furs to-day?" + +"That is not what I was going to say." + +"Monsieur Crooks, you speak all languages, don't you?" + +"Not all. A few. I know a little of nearly every one of our Indian +dialects." + +"Monsieur, what does 'malatat' mean?" + +"'Malatat'? That's a Chippewa word. You will often hear that. It means +'good for nothing.'" + +"But I have heard that the chief Pontiac was an Ottawa." + +The young man was not interested in Pontiac. + +"A chief would know a great many dialects," he replied. "Chippewa was +the tongue of this island. But what I wanted to say is that I have +had a serious talk with the agent. He is entirely willing to have me +settle down. And he says, what is the truth, that you are the best and +prettiest girl at the straits. I have spoken my mind often enough. Why +shouldn't we get married right away?" + +Jenieve set her bowl and spoon inside the house, and folded her arms. + +"Monsieur, have I not told you many times? I cannot marry. I have a +family already." + +The young agent struck his cap impatiently against the bark +weather-boarding. "You are the most offish girl I ever saw. A man +cannot get near enough to you to talk reason." + +"It would be better if you did not come down here at all, Monsieur +Crooks," said Jenieve. "The neighbors will be saying I am setting a +bad example to my mother." + +"Bring your mother up to the Fur Company's quarters with you, and the +neighbors will no longer have a chance to put mischief into her head." + +Jenieve took him seriously, though she had often suspected, from +what she could see at the fort, that Americans had not the custom of +marrying an entire family. + +"It is really too fine a place for us." + +Young Crooks laughed. Squaws had lived in the Fur Company's quarters, +but he would not mention this fact to the girl. + +His eyes dwelt fondly on her in the darkness, for though the fire +behind her had again sunk to embers, it cast up a little glow; and he +stood entirely in the star-embossed outside world. It is not safe +to talk in the dark: you tell too much. The primitive instinct of +truth-speaking revives in force, and the restraints of another's +presence are gone. You speak from the unseen to the unseen over +leveled barriers of reserve. Young Crooks had scarcely said that +place was nothing, and he would rather live in that little house +with Jenieve than in the Fur Company's quarters without her, when she +exclaimed openly, "And have old Michel Pensonneau put over you!" + +The idea of Michel Pensonneau taking precedence of him as master +of the cedar hut was delicious to the American, as he recalled the +engage's respectful slouch while receiving the usual bill of credit. + +"One may laugh, monsieur. I laugh myself; it is better than crying. +But it is the truth that Mama Lalotte is more care to me than all the +boys. I have no peace except when she is asleep in bed." + +"There is no harm in Madame Lalotte." + +"You are right, monsieur. Jean Bati' McClure's wife puts all the +mischief in her head. She would even learn to spin, if that woman +would let her alone." + +"And I never heard any harm of Michel Pensonneau. He is a good enough +fellow, and he has more to his credit on the Company's books than any +other engage now on the island." + +"I suppose you would like to have him sit and smoke his pipe the rest +of his days on your doorstep?" + +"No, I wouldn't," confessed the young agent. "Michel is a saving man, +and he uses very mean tobacco, the cheapest in the house." + +"You see how I am situated, monsieur. It is no use to talk to me." + +"But Michel Pensonneau is not going to trouble you long. He has +relations at Cahokia, in the Illinois Territory, and he is fitting +himself out to go there to settle." + +"Are you sure of this, monsieur?" + +"Certainly I am, for we have already made him a bill of credit to our +correspondent at Cahokia. He wants very few goods to carry across the +Chicago portage." + +"Monsieur, how soon does he intend to go?" + +"On the first schooner that sails to the head of the lake; so he may +set out any day. Michel is anxious to try life on the Mississippi, and +his three years' engagement with the Company is just ended." + +"I also am anxious to have him try life on the Mississippi," said +Jenieve, and she drew a deep breath of relief. "Why did you not tell +me this before?" + +"How could I know you were interested in him?" + +"He is not a bad man," she admitted kindly. "I can see that he means +very well. If the McClures would go to the Illinois Territory +with him--But, Monsieur Crooks," Jenieve asked sharply, "do people +sometimes make sudden marriages?" + +"In my case they have not," sighed the young man. "But I think well of +sudden marriages myself. The priest comes to the island this week." + +"Yes, and I must take the children to confession." + +"What are you going to do with me, Jenieve?" + +"I am going to say good-night to you, and shut my door." She stepped +into the house. + +"Not yet. It is only a little while since they fired the sunset gun at +the fort. You are not kind to shut me out the moment I come." + +She gave him her hand, as she always did when she said good-night, and +he prolonged his hold of it. + +"You are full of sweetbrier. I didn't know it grew down here on the +beach." + +"It never did grow here, Monsieur Crooks." + +"You shall have plenty of it in your garden, when you come home with +me." + +"Oh, go away, and let me shut my door, monsieur. It seems no use to +tell you I cannot come." + +"No use at all. Until you come, then, good-night." + +Seldom are two days alike on the island. Before sunrise the lost dews +of paradise always sweeten those scented woods, and the birds begin to +remind you of something you heard in another life, but have forgotten. +Jenieve loved to open her door and surprise the east. She stepped out +the next morning to fill her pail. There was a lake of translucent +cloud beyond the water lake: the first unruffled, and the second +wind-stirred. The sun pushed up, a flattened red ball, from the lake +of steel ripples to the lake of calm clouds. Nearer, a schooner with +its sails down stood black as ebony between two bars of light drawn +across the water, which lay dull and bleak towards the shore. The +addition of a schooner to the scattered fleet of sailboats, bateaux, +and birch canoes made Jenieve laugh. It must have arrived from Sault +Ste. Marie in the night. She had hopes of getting rid of Michel +Pensonneau that very day. Since he was going to Cahokia, she felt +stinging regret for the way she had treated him before the whole +village; yet her mother could not be sacrificed to politeness. Except +his capacity for marrying, there was really no harm in the old fellow, +as Monsieur Crooks had said. + +The humid blockhouse and walls of the fort high above the bay began to +glisten in emerging sunlight, and Jenieve determined not to be hard on +Mama Lalotte that day. If Michel came to say good-by, she would shake +his hand herself. It was not agreeable for a woman so fond of company +to sit in the house with nobody but her daughter. Mama Lalotte did +not love the pine woods, or any place where she would be alone. But +Jenieve could sit and spin in solitude all day, and think of that +chill silver face she had seen at Pontiac's Lookout, and the floating +away of the figure, a phosphorescent bar through the trees, and of +that spoken word which had denounced the French and Indians as good +for nothing. She decided to tell the priest, even if he rebuked her. +It did not seem any stranger to Jenieve than many things which were +called natural, such as the morning miracles in the eastern sky, and +the growth of the boys, her dear torments. To Jenieve's serious eyes, +trained by her grandmother, it was not as strange as the sight of Mama +Lalotte, a child in maturity, always craving amusement, and easily led +by any chance hand. + +The priest had come to Mackinac in the schooner during the night. He +combined this parish with others more or less distant, and he opened +the chapel and began his duties as soon as he arrived. Mama Lalotte +herself offered to dress the boys for confession. She put their best +clothes on them, and then she took out all her own finery. Jenieve +had no suspicion while the little figure preened and burnished itself, +making up for the lack of a mirror by curves of the neck to look +itself well over. Mama Lalotte thought a great deal about what she +wore. She was pleased, and her flaxen curls danced. She kissed Jenieve +on both cheeks, as if there had been no quarrel, though unpleasant +things never lingered in her memory. And she made the boys kiss +Jenieve; and while they were saddened by clothes, she also made them +say they were sorry about the shoes. + +By sunset, the schooner, which had sat in the straits all day, hoisted +its sails and rounded the hooked point of the opposite island. The +gun at the fort was like a parting salute, and a shout was raised by +coureurs-de-bois thronging the log wharf. They trooped up to the fur +warehouse, and the sound of a fiddle and the thump of soft-shod feet +were soon heard; for the French were ready to celebrate any occasion +with dancing. Laughter and the high excited voices of women also +came from the little ball-room, which was only the office of the Fur +Company. + +Here the engages felt at home. The fiddler sat on the top of the desk, +and men lounging on a row of benches around the walls sprang to their +feet and began to caper at the violin's first invitation. Such maids +and wives as were nearest the building were haled in, laughing, by +their relations; and in the absence of the agents, and of that awe +which goes with making your cross-mark on a paper, a quick carnival +was held on the spot where so many solemn contracts had been signed. +An odor of furs came from the packing-rooms around, mixed with gums +and incense-like whiffs. Added to this was the breath of the general +store kept by the agency. Tobacco and snuff, rum, chocolate, calico, +blankets, wood and iron utensils, fire-arms, West India sugar and +rice,--all sifted their invisible essences on the air. Unceiled joists +showed heavy and brown overhead. But there was no fireplace, for when +the straits stood locked in ice and the island was deep in snow, no +engage claimed admission here. He would be a thousand miles away, +toiling on snow-shoes with his pack of furs through the trees, +or bargaining with trappers for his contribution to this month of +enormous traffic. + +Clean buckskin legs and brand-new belted hunting-shirts whirled on the +floor, brightened by sashes of crimson or kerchiefs of orange. Indians +from the reservation on Round Island, who happened to be standing, +like statues, in front of the building, turned and looked with lenient +eye on the performance of their French brothers. The fiddler was a +nervous little Frenchman with eyes like a weasel, and he detected +Jenieve Lalotte putting her head into the room. She glanced from +figure to figure of the dancers, searching through the twilight for +what she could not find; but before he could call her she was off. +None of the men, except a few Scotch-French, were very tall, but +they were a handsome, muscular race, fierce in enjoyment, yet with a +languor which prolonged it, and gave grace to every picturesque pose. +Not one of them wanted to pain Lalotte's girl, but, as they danced, +a joyful fellow would here and there spring high above the floor and +shout, "Good voyage to Michel Pensonneau and his new family!" They had +forgotten the one who amused them yesterday, and remembered only the +one who amused them to-day. + +Jenieve struck on Jean Bati' McClure's door, and faced his wife, +speechless, pointing to the schooner ploughing southward. + +"Yes, she's gone," said Jean Bati' McClure's wife, "and the boys with +her." + +The confidante came out on the step, and tried to lay her hand on +Jenieve's shoulder, but the girl moved backward from her. + +"Now let me tell you, it is a good thing for you, Jenieve Lalotte. You +can make a fine match of your own to-morrow. It is not natural for a +girl to live as you have lived. You are better off without them." + +"But my mother has left me!" + +"Well, I am sorry for you; but you were hard on her." + +"I blame you, madame!" + +"You might as well blame the priest, who thought it best not to let +them go unmarried. And she has taken a much worse man than Michel +Pensonneau in her time." + +"My mother and my brothers have left me here alone," repeated Jenieve; +and she wrung her hands and put them over her face. The trouble was so +overwhelming that it broke her down before her enemy. + +"Oh, don't take it to heart," said Jean Bati' McClure's wife, with +ready interest in the person nearest at hand. "Come and eat supper +with my man and me to-night, and sleep in our house if you are +afraid." + +Jenieve leaned her forehead against the hut, and made no reply to +these neighborly overtures. + +"Did she say nothing at all about me, madame?" + +"Yes; she was afraid you would come at the last minute and take her by +the arm and walk her home. You were too strict with her, and that is +the truth. She was glad to get away to Cahokia. They say it is fine in +the Illinois Territory. You know she is fond of seeing the world." + +The young supple creature trying to restrain her shivers and sobs of +anguish against the bark house side was really a moving sight; and +Jean Bati' McClure's wife, flattening a masculine upper lip with +resolution, said promptly,-- + +"I am going this moment to the Fur Company's quarters to send young +Monsieur Crooks after you." + +At that Jenieve fled along the beach and took to the bushes. As she +ran, weeping aloud like a child, she watched the lessening schooner; +and it seemed a monstrous thing, out of nature, that her mother was +on that little ship, fleeing from her, with a thoughtless face set +smiling towards a new world. She climbed on, to keep the schooner in +sight, and made for Pontiac's Lookout, reckless of what she had seen +there. + +The distant canvas became one leaning sail, and then a speck, and +then nothing. There was an afterglow on the water which turned it to +a wavering pavement of yellow-pink sheen. In that clear, high +atmosphere, mainland shores and islands seemed to throw out the +evening purples from themselves, and thus to slowly reach for one +another and form darkness. Jenieve had lain on the grass, crying, "O +Mama--Francois--Toussaint--Gabriel!" But she sat up at last, with her +dejected head on her breast, submitting to the pettiness and treachery +of what she loved. Bats flew across the open place. A sudden rankness +of sweetbrier, taking her breath away by its icy puff, reminded her of +other things, and she tried to get up and run. Instead of running she +seemed to move sidewise out of herself, and saw Pontiac standing on +the edge of the cliff. His head turned from St. Ignace to the reviving +fires on Round Island, and slowly back again from Round Island to St. +Ignace. Jenieve felt as if she were choking, but again she asked out +of her heart to his,-- + +"Monsieur the chief Pontiac, what ails the French and Indians?" + +He floated around to face her, the high ridges of his bleached +features catching light; but this time he showed only dim dead eyes. +His head sunk on his breast, and Jenieve could see the fronds of the +feathers he wore traced indistinctly against the sky. The dead eyes +searched for her and could not see her; he whispered hoarsely to +himself, "Malatat!" + +The voice of the living world calling her name sounded directly +afterwards in the woods, and Jenieve leaped as if she were shot. She +had the instinct that her lover must not see this thing, for there +were reasons of race and religion against it. But she need not +have feared that Pontiac would show himself, or his long and savage +mourning for the destruction of the red man, to any descendant of +the English. As the bushes closed behind her she looked back: the +phosphoric blur was already so far in the west that she could hardly +be sure she saw it again. And the young agent of the Fur Company, +breaking his way among leaves, met her with both hands; saying gayly, +to save her the shock of talking about her mother:-- + +"Come home, come home, my sweetbrier maid. No wonder you smell +of sweetbrier. I am rank with it myself, rubbing against the dewy +bushes." + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Chase Of Saint-Castin And Other +Stories Of The French In The New World, by Mary Hartwell Catherwood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHASE OF SAINT-CASTIN *** + +***** This file should be named 12199.txt or 12199.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/1/9/12199/ + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Leah Moser and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + + +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. 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