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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/16733-8.txt b/16733-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a8bf362 --- /dev/null +++ b/16733-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11462 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Montlivet, by Alice Prescott Smith + + +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: Montlivet + + +Author: Alice Prescott Smith + + + +Release Date: September 23, 2005 [eBook #16733] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONTLIVET*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +MONTLIVET + +by + +ALICE PRESCOTT SMITH + +New York +Grosset & Dunlap +Publishers +Houghton, Mifflin and Co. + +1907 + + + + + + + +TO + +M. C. H. AND A. E. H. + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. THE KEY + II. THE CAPTIVE + III. BEHIND THE COMMANDANT'S DOOR + IV. IN THE OTTAWA CAMP + V. A DECISION + VI. DAME OPPORTUNITY + VII. THE BEGINNING + VIII. PARTNERS + IX. WESTWARD + X. I WAKE A SLEEPER + XI. MARY STARLING + XII. A COMPACT + XIII. WE REACH THE ISLANDS + XIV. A PROVISIONAL BARGAIN + XV. I TAKE A NEW PASSENGER + XVI. THE STORM + XVII. AFTER THE STORM + XVIII. IN WHICH I USE OPPORTUNITY + XIX. IN THE MIST + XX. WHAT I FOUND + XXI. THE PIVOT + XXII. THE PRICE OF SLEEP + XXIII. I ENCOUNTER MIXED MOTIVES + XXIV. I MEET VARIOUS WELCOMES + XXV. OVER CADILLAC'S TABLE + XXVI. FROM HOUR TO HOUR + XXVII. IN COUNCIL + XXVIII. CHILDREN OF OPPORTUNITY + XXIX. I FOLLOW MY PATH + XXX. THE MEANING OF CONQUEST + XXXI. THE UNDESERVED + XXXII. I TELL THE WOMAN + XXXIII. TO US AND TO OUR CHILDREN + + + + +MONTLIVET + +CHAPTER I + +THE KEY + +The May sun was shining on Michillimackinac, and I, Armand de +Montlivet, was walking the strip of beach in front of the French +garrison. + +I did not belong to Michillimackinac. I had come in only the day +before with two canoes and four men, and I was bound for the beaver +lands further west. A halt was necessary, for the trip had been +severe, and remembering that it was necessity, and not idleness, that +held me, I was enjoying the respite. My heart was light, and since the +heart is mistress of the heels, I walked somewhat trippingly. I was on +good terms with myself at the moment. My venture was going well, and I +was glad to be alone, and breathe deep of the sweet spring air, and let +my soul grow big with the consciousness of what it would like to do. +So content was I, that I was annoyed to see La Mothe-Cadillac approach. + +Yet Cadillac was important to me then. He was commandant at +Michillimackinac,--the year was 1695,--and so was in control of the +strategic point of western New France. The significance of all that he +stood for, and all that he might accomplish, filled my thought as he +swaggered toward me now, and I said to myself, somewhat complacently, +that, with all his air of importance, I had a fuller conception than he +of what lay in his palm. + +He hailed me without preface. "Where do you find food for your +laughter in this forsaken country, Montlivet? I have watched you +swagger up and down with a smile on your face for the last hour. What +is the jest?" + +In truth, there was no jest in me by the time he finished. My own +thought had just called him a swaggerer, and now he clapped the same +phrase back at me. + +"There are more swaggerers upon this beach than I," I cried hotly, and +I felt my blood rise. + +My tone was more insulting than my words, and Cadillac, too, grew red. +I saw the veins upon his neck begin to swell, and all my childish +irritation vanished. + +"Come, monsieur," I hastened; "I was wrong. But I meant no harm, and +surely here is a jest fit for your laughter, that two grown men should +stand and swell at each other like turkeycocks, all because they are +drunk with the air of a May day. Come, here is my hand." + +"But you said that I"-- + +"And what if I did?" I interrupted. I had fallen into step, and was +pacing by his side. "What is there in the term that we should hold it +in slight esteem? I swagger. What does that mean, after all, but my +acknowledgment of the presence of Dame Opportunity, and my admission +that I would like to impress her; to draw her eye in my direction. +Surely that is laudable, monsieur." + +Cadillac laughed. His tempers were the ruffle of a passing breeze upon +deep water. "So you think that I swagger to meet opportunity? Well, +if I do, I get but little out of it. Sometimes I push myself near +enough to pluck at the sleeve of the dame; oftener she passes me by." + +"Yet she gave you this key to an empire," I suggested. I had been +rude, and I repented it, and more than that, there was something in the +man that tempted me to offer him flattery even as I desire to give +sweets to an engaging child. + +But this cajolery he swept away with a fling of his heavy arm. "The +key to an empire!" he echoed contemptuously. "They are fine words, and +the mischief is that they are true. Yet food in my stomach, and money +in my pocket, would mean more to me just now. I must speak to this +Indian. Will you wait for me, monsieur? I have business with you." + +I bowed, and resumed my walk. "The key to an empire!" I said my own +words over, and could have blushed for their tone of bombast. They +were true, but they sounded false, I looked at my surroundings, and +marveled that a situation that was of real dignity could wear so mean a +garb. The sandy cove where I stood was on the mainland, and sheltered +four settlements. Behind lay the forest; in front stretched Lake +Huron, a waterway that was our only link with the men and nations we +had left behind. The settlements were contiguous in body, but even my +twenty-four hours' acquaintance had shown me that they were leagues +apart in mind. There were a French fort, a Jesuit convent, a village +of Ottawas, and, barred by the aristocracy of a palisade, a village of +Hurons. The scale of precedence was plain to read. The huts of the +savages were wattled, interlaced of poles and bark; the French +buildings were of wood, but roofed with rough cedar; the only houses +with board roofs were those of the Jesuits. In later times when I +found Father Carheil hard to understand, I used to say to myself that +he was not to be held too strictly to account for his contradictions, +for though one learns to think great thoughts in the wilderness, it is +not done easily when there is sawed lumber to shut away the sky. + +Cadillac came back to me in a few moments. He had lost his swelling +port, and was frowning with thought. "I saw you in the Huron camp, +Montlivet," he said. "Do you understand their speech?" + +Now this was a question that I thought it as well to put by. "Would +you call it speech?" I demurred. "It sounded more like snarling." + +"Then you do understand it?" + +I kicked at the dogs at my feet. "Frowns are a common language. I +could understand them, at least. The camp is restless. Are they +hungry?" + +Cadillac shrugged his shoulders. "Possibly. But it is not hunger that +sagamité or maize cakes can reach. Would a taste of Iroquois broth put +them in better condition, do you think?" + +I turned away somewhat sickened. "It is a savage remedy," I broke out. +"And a good cook will catch his hare before he talks of putting it in +the pot. Where is your Iroquois hare, Monsieur de la Mothe-Cadillac?" + +The commandant shook his head. "My hare is still at large," he +confessed. "Though just now---- Come, Monsieur de Montlivet, let us +to plain speech. We are talking as slantingly as savages. I have a +Huron messenger at my quarters. Come with me, and interpret." + +"A messenger from your own camp?" + +"Is it my own camp?" he queried soberly. "I do not know. I have +reason to think that many of my Hurons are ripe for English bribes,--or +even for the Iroquois. It is a strange menagerie that I rule over +here, and the Hurons are the foxes,--when they are not trying to be +lions. You say that their camp is restless. I do not speak their +language, but I can tell you more. They are in two factions. Those +who follow old Kondiaronk, the Rat, are fairly loyal, but the faction +under the Baron would sell us to the English for the price of a cask of +rum. Truly our scalps sit lightly on our heads here in this garrison." + +I hesitated. I did not like this situation, and prudence whispered +that I had best cut the conversation here, and make my way as swiftly +as possible to the west. But curiosity urged me to one more question. +I asked it with my lips pursing to a whistle, that I might seem +indifferent. "Is the messenger from the Baron?" + +Cadillac nodded contentedly. "So you have decided to help me," he +said, with a smile that read my indecision perfectly, and I felt, with +a rush of blood to my face, much less sure of myself, and more respect +for him. "I wish that I had inducements to keep you here," he went on, +"for I hear from Montreal that you have wonderful command of Indian +dialects. But I will take what you are willing to give, and be +thankful. As to this messenger,--this is the tale. Some months ago a +small band of Hurons left here for the south. Hunting, or war, or +diplomacy, how shall I say what was their errand? But I mistrust them, +for they are followers of the Baron. They returned this morning, and +are in camp on the island. Their sending a messenger in advance looks +as if they had a prisoner, and so desired to be welcomed in state. If +the prisoner should be an Iroquois"---- + +Now certain tales were fresh in my ears, and so I did not like the +implication of the unfinished sentence, and hastened to cover it. "It +is a favorable sign, monsieur, that the messenger came to you first." + +"How do I know that he came to me first? He came to me--yes. But +because a snake slips out of one hole, can you swear that he has not +been in another? Will you go to him now?" + +There was no door open for escape, and the matter was not important +enough for me to be willing to force one. "If you wish," I agreed. + +Cadillac looked relieved. "Good! You will find the messenger at my +quarters. I shall let you go alone, for I can make nothing of the +man's speech, and he smells somewhat rancid for a close acquaintance. +When you are through, you will find me here." + +I bowed, and made my way to his quarters. I knew as I opened his door +that I might be entering more than appeared upon the surface, but the +excitement of the game was worth the hazard,--even the hazard of a +possible delay,--and I pushed the door wide, and went in. + +The Huron was sitting in the middle of the floor, handling his calumet +with some ostentation. The Hurons were but the remnant of a race, for +Iroquois butchery had reduced them in numbers and in spirit, but even +in their exile they preserved a splendor of carriage that made the +Ottawas, who camped beside them here, seem but a poor and shuffling +people. This man was a comely specimen, and he was decked to do honor +to the moment. His blanket was clean, and his head freshly shaved +except for a bristling ridge that ran, like a cock's comb, across his +crown, and that dripped sunflower oil over his shoulders. + +He handed me his calumet, and we smoked for the time required by +ceremony, then he rose, and drew two beaver skins from the folds of his +blanket. + +"The sun has smiled upon us," he said, with a certain sedate pomposity +which, like the black crest on his head, might be ludicrous in itself, +but seemed fitting enough in him. "I speak for my people who are in +camp upon the island. We have been upon strange rivers, and over +mountains where the very name of Frenchman is unknown. Yet we have +returned, and we come to you at once, as the partridge to her young. +We are glad to see a Frenchman's face again. We confirm what we have +said by giving these beavers." + +I smoked for a moment, then leaned over and kicked the skins into the +corner. "Why these words?" I asked, with a slow shrug. "Does the leg +thank the arm for its service? Does the mouth give flatteries and +presents to the tongue? We of Michillimackinac are all of one body. +My brother must be drunk with the bad rum of the English traders, that +he should come to me in this way. No, if my brother has anything to +say, let him think it aloud without ceremony, as if speaking to his own +heart. Let him save his beavers till he goes to treat with strangers." + +There was a long silence. The Huron wrapped his blanket closer, and +looked at me, while I stared back as unwinkingly. His face was a mask, +but I thought--as I have thought before and since when at the council +fire--that there was amusement in the very blankness of his gaze, and +that my effort to outdo him at his own mummery somewhat taxed his +gravity. When he spoke at last he told his story concisely. + +A half hour later, I went in search of Cadillac. He heard my step on +the crunching gravel, and when I was still rods away, he laid his +finger on his lips for silence. I went to him rather resentfully, for +I had had no mind to shout my news in the street of the settlement, and +I thought that he was acting like a child. But he took no notice of my +pique, and clapped me on the shoulder as if we were pot-companions. + +"Hush, man," he whispered fretfully. "Your look is fairly shouting the +news abroad. No need to keep your tongue sealed, when you carry such a +tell-tale face. So they have an Iroquois?" + +I dropped my shoulder away from under his hand. "If that is the news +that you say I shouted, no harm is done,--save to my honor. No, they +have no Iroquois." + +Cadillac stopped. "No Iroquois!" he echoed heavily. + +"No, monsieur. They have an Englishman." + +It was as if I had struck him. He stepped back, and his face grew dull +red. + +"A spy?" + +I shook my head. I could feel my blood pumping hard, but I answered by +rote. "Not by the Huron's story." + +The commandant snapped his fingers. "That for his story! As idle as +wind in the grass!" he snorted. "But what did he say?" + +I grew as laconic as the Huron. "That they left here as a hunting +party," I said categorically. + +"That they soon joined a war party of Algonquins, and went with them to +the English frontier. I could make little of his geography, but I +infer that they went in the direction of Boston,--though not so far. +There the Algonquins fell upon a village, where they scalped and burned +to their fill. He says that the Hurons remained neutral, and this +prisoner, he maintains, is theirs by purchase. They bought him from +the Algonquins for two white dressed deerskins, and they have treated +him well. They have found him a man of spirit and importance, and they +ask that you make a suitable feast in honor of what they have done. +The Huron is waiting for your answer." + +Cadillac had listened nodding, and his reply was ready. "Tell him that +they must bring the prisoner to-morrow early,--soon after daybreak. +Tell him that Monsieur de la Mothe-Cadillac knows his part, and that +the kettles shall be full of dog-meat, and the young men painted and +ready for the dancing." He spoke rapidly, his hand on his sword, and +his great shoulders lifted as if eager to meet their new burden. He +turned to me with a smile that would have conquered enmity in a wolf. +"This is great news, Montlivet. I could almost ask you to drink the +health of the Baron, and all his scurvy, seditious crew. For, look +you, even if the Englishman is a spy, and the Hurons have brought him +here to make a secret treaty, why, he is in our hands, and Boston is a +continent away. He will have opportunity to learn some French before +he goes back to his codfish friends. What say you, monsieur?" + +I laughed rather ruefully. I saw that the game was to be exciting, and +I had never been backward at a sport. Yet I knew that I must turn my +face from it. + +"What do I say?" I repeated. "Nothing, monsieur, but that I am a +trader, not a diplomat, and that to-morrow I must be on my way to the +west. I will take your answer to the Huron. Monsieur, I hope you will +sleep long and sweetly to-night. You will need a clear head to-morrow." + +Cadillac looked at me, and wagged his head. "Good-day to you, trader," +he said, with one of his noiseless laughs. "How well you must sleep +who have no thought beyond your beaver skins,--even though you do carry +brandy and muskets hidden in your cargo. Never mind, never mind. Keep +your secrets. Only see that Father Carheil does not smell your brandy, +or I may be forced to send you back to Montreal." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE CAPTIVE + +I woke the next morning, saying, "I must keep out of this," and I knew +that I had said it in my slumber. It is pitiful that a man should be +so infirm of will that he need cosset his resolution in this fashion, +and I kicked the dogs from the door of my cabin, and went out to meet +the world in a bad humor. + +It was a still world in the great sky and water spaces, but a noisy one +upon the shore. Early as it was--the night dusk was still +lingering--the kettles were simmering, and the Indians decked for a +holiday. The sense of approaching action was powder to my nostrils, +and added to my spleen; so though I went down upon the beach, and +joined Cadillac and his officers, I was but surly company, and soon +turned my back upon them, to stare off at the lake. + +It was a breezeless morning, and the lake was without ripple. It lay +like one of the metal mirrors that we sell the Indians, a lustreless +gray sheet that threw back twisted pictures. I looked off at the east, +and thought of the dull leagues that lay behind me, and the uncounted +ones before, and I realized that the morning air was cold, and that I +hated the dark, secret water that led through this strange land. Yet, +even as I scowled at it, the disk of the sun climbed over the island's +rim, and laid a shining pathway through the gray,--a pathway that ended +at my feet. + +I felt my pulse quicken. After all, it was a fair world, and the air, +though keen, was a cordial. I let my gaze travel up that shining, +glimmering track, and while I looked it was suddenly flecked with +canoes. Long and brown, they swung down toward me like strong-winged +birds upheld by the path of the sunrise. + +I looked back at the Indians. They, too, had seen the canoes, but they +made no sound of welcome. Bedizened and wolf-eyed, they stood in +formal ranks as attentive as children at a pantomime. In a moment the +canoes took clearer shape, and the shine of the paddles could be seen +as the flat of the blades slanted toward the light. The men at the +paddles were indistinguishable, crouching shapes, but their prisoner +was standing. He stood in the foremost canoe, and as his figure was +outlined against the sun I saw that he was rigid as a mummy. I turned +to Cadillac. To see a white man bound! I could feel the thongs eating +into my own flesh. + +"They have bound the Englishman!" I protested. "Let us hope that they +are not daring enough--or crazed enough--to make him sing to grace +their triumph." + +But he laughed at my tone. "What does it matter?" he shrugged. "These +wards of mine--my happy family--must have their fête in their own +fashion, or they will ask that I pay the piper. Well, whatever they +do, the prisoner is in our hands, and it will be long before he escapes +them. Yes, listen,--oh, the play-acting dogs!--they are making him +sing now." + +He had a keen ear, for, even to my forest-trained sense, the sound came +but faintly. The crowd hushed its breathing, and the air was +unwholesomely still. A dog yelped, and an Indian silenced it with a +kick. Each paddle-stroke threw the canoes into sharper relief, and we +could distinguish lank arms, and streaming hair. The prisoner's voice +echoed as clear as if he were in some great playhouse, and were singing +to gain the plaudits of a friendly throng. + +I felt my blood tingling in my fingers' ends. It was a brave song, +bravely sung. I could not understand the English words, but the sound +was rollicking with defiance. It was a glove thrown in our faces; the +challenge of a brave man to a cowardly foe. + +"The plucky beggar!" I said half aloud, and I set my teeth hard. + +But Cadillac was nudging my elbow. "You said that the prisoner was a +man of importance," he accused, with a perplexed frown. "But, listen! +He has the voice of a boy." + +I was greedy to hear, so, with a wave of the hand, I shook Cadillac +away. But, in truth, I was disturbed. The tones were certainly boyish. + +The canoes came within bowshot, and the hush that held the camp +suddenly broke like the release of pent waters. There were yells and +stamping, the smash of tom-toms, and a scattering salvo of musketry. +It was a united roar that shut out from our consciousness the thought +of the calm sky and the silent water. + +The canoes had come as unswervingly as arrows, and the one that held +the prisoner landed at my feet. I looked up, and met his eyes, and I +swept my hat from my head. + +"You are among friends," I called, not knowing that I did so. + +It was a foolish speech, since the prisoner could not understand; but I +suppose that my tone was kind, for it apparently gave him courage. At +least, a flush that might have been the color of returning hope rose in +his cheeks. I was relieved at his appearance, for he was not the +little lad that his song had made me fear. He was slim and beardless, +but there were sorrow and understanding in his look that could not come +with childhood. For the rest, he was dark and gaunt from exposure and +privation. His rough woolen suit, leather-lined, hung loosely on him, +but he wore it with a jauntiness that matched the bravado of his song. + +Cadillac came forward in welcome. He was always an orator that the +Indians themselves envied, and now his rhetoric was as unhampered as +though he thought that the prisoner was following each flowing +syllable. As he unbound the stiffened arms--they were pitifully thin +and small, I thought--he called all mythology to witness his deep +regret that this indignity should have been offered to his brother of +the white race. I followed him and listened, storing away metaphors +even as I carried beads in my cargo. I should need all the eloquence +at my command before the close of the summer, and my own tongue was +always too direct of speech. + +Cadillac felt me at his elbow, and when he saw my listening face he +stopped to give me a slow wink. "Will monsieur turn pupil to learn +swaggering?" he asked, with an upward cock of the eye. "I had thought +him too old for a school." + +I bowed, and hated myself for my lagging wits that would not furnish a +retort. "Never too old to sit at your feet," I assured him, and I went +away knowing that I had been slow, and that the honors were with him, +but knowing, also, that somehow I liked the man, and that I should +drink his health when I opened my next tierce of canary. + +I went to find my men, and it was time that I bestirred myself. +License was in order, and the revel assaulted eyes, ears, and nose, +till a white man was wise if he forsook his dignity, and ran like a fox +to cover. The air was surfeiting with the steam of food. Dog-meat +bubbled in great caldrons, and maize cakes crackled on hot stones. A +bear had been brought in, and was being hacked in pieces to add to the +broth. The women did this, and as I passed them they stopped, with +their hands dripping red, and shook their wampum necklaces at me, and +pointed meaningly toward a neighboring hut, where I had been told that +rum could be bought if you were discreet in choosing your occasion. I +tossed them a handful of small coins, and warned them in Huron that if +they molested my men I should report them to the commandant. I felt +yet more haste to see my canoes under way. + +I was plunging on in this fashion when Father Carheil plucked at my +sleeve. "Do you think you are running from the Iroquois?" he grumbled, +and he pushed his irritable, brilliant face close to mine. It was an +old face, lined and withered, and the hair above it was scanty and +gray, but never have I met a look that showed more fire and +unconquerable will. "The commandant wishes you," he went on. "He +asked me to fetch you. I should not have complied--it is I who should +ask services of him--but I wished to speak to you on my own account. +Monsieur, do you know these men that you have in your employ?" + +I nodded. "As well as I know my own heart. They are my habitants." + +"Your habitants! Then you have a seigniory? Why do you not stay there +as the king wishes?" + +I shook my head at him. "We use large words in this new land, father. +Yes, I have a seigniory. That is, I own some barren acres near +Montreal that I can occupy only at risk of my scalp. As to the king, I +think he wishes me to trade,--at least I carry his license to that +effect. But what are my men doing?" + +The Jesuit's thin old hands clutched each other. "They are turning +this place into a Sodom," he said passionately. "They are drinking and +carousing with the Indian women. You traders are our ruin. But we +will shut you out of the country yet. Mark my words. Those +twenty-five licenses will be revoked before the season ends, and you +will have to find other excuses to bring your rabble here to debauch +our missions." + +In view of what I had just seen, I felt impatient. "You do my handful +of stolid peasants too much honor," I said dryly. "They would need +more wit and ingenuity than I have ever seen in them to be able to +teach outlawry to anything that they find here. But I am looking for +them now. You will pardon me if I hasten." + +But his hand pulled at me. "Is one of your men lipped like a +bull-moose and red as Rufus?" + +"Pierre Boudin to the life," I chuckled. "What deviltry is he at now?" + +The priest's face lost its flame. He looked suddenly the old man worn +out in the service of a savage people. "He is with an Ottawa girl," he +said sadly; "a girl the Indians call Singing Arrow for her wit and her +laughter. She is not a convert, but she is a good girl. I wish you +would get your man away." + +I felt shame for my man and myself. "I will go at once," I promised +soberly. "I will be westward bound by afternoon." + +The old priest looked at me with friendly eyes. "There will be trouble +before sundown," he said gravely. "If you wish to get away, go +quickly, or you may not go at all. Now you must report to the +commandant." + +But I had turned my face the other way. "Not till I have found +Pierre," I returned. + +I had no summer stroll before me. Pierre, Anak that he was, was as +lost as a leaf in a whirlpool, and though I had quick eyes, and +shoulders that could force a passage for me in a crowd, I could see no +sign of his oriole crest of red head in all the bobbing multitude of +blackbirds. Instead I stumbled upon Cadillac. + +He linked his arm in mine. "Do you know," he said abruptly, "the +prisoner has spirit and to spare. He may be a man of importance after +all." + +I answered like a fool. "I think not. He is dressed like a yeoman." + +Cadillac put me at arm's length, and puffed his cheeks with silent +laughter. "Plumage, eh? Are you willing to be judged by your own?" He +stopped to let his glance rest on my shabby gear. "Truly it must be a +long year since you fronted a mirror, or you would not be so +complacent. No, monsieur, the prisoner is a gentleman. No yeoman ever +carried his head with such a poise. But who is he? I would give all +the pistoles in my pocket--though, in faith, they're few enough--if I +could understand English. But you may be able to help me. Go speak to +the prisoner in Huron. He must have picked up something of the Indian +speech in his trip here." + +This was my opportunity. "Monsieur," I said, "I should like an +understanding. Remember how little all this can mean to me,--a +trader,--and do not think me churlish if I try to keep myself free from +this intrigue. I will go to the prisoner now, if you wish; but, that +done, I beg you to hold me excused of any further service in this +matter." + +Cadillac looked me over, and now his glance went, not to my doublet, +but to the man within. "A trader!" he said curtly. "A trader carrying +contraband brandy. A good commandant would send you back where you +belong. No, no, monsieur, wait! I am not threatening you. Though you +know as well as I that the thumb-screws are rather convenient to my +hand should I care to use them. But there should be no necessity for +that. Montlivet, I hardly understand your reluctance in the matter of +this Englishman. We should be one in this affair, whatever our private +concerns. Even Black Gown and I--and the world says we are not +lovers--are working together. Why do you draw back?" + +I could not meet him with less than the truth. "You have stated the +reason, monsieur. My private concerns,--they seem large to me, and I +fear to jeopard them by becoming entangled here. I regret this. You +have shown me great clemency in the matter of the brandy,--though if +you had confiscated it I should still have pushed on,--and for that, +and for your own sake, monsieur, I should be glad to serve you." + +He looked at my outstretched palm, and laid his own upon it. "'T is +fairly spoken," he said slowly, "and I think you mean it." Then he +grew peevish. "A pest on this country!" he cried. "We are all kings +in disguise, and have a monarchy hidden in our hats. And what does it +amount to? No bread, no wine, no thanks; a dog's life and a jackal's +death,--and all to hold some leagues of barren land for his +petticoat-ridden majesty at Versailles. Oh, why not say it? We can +tell the truth here without losing our heads." + +"The king's arm"--I began. + +"Is long," he interrupted. "Yet, in truth, your face is longer. Are +you so eager to be gone? Well, get you to the prisoner, and, my hand +on it, I shall ask for nothing more." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +BEHIND THE COMMANDANT'S DOOR + +The commandant's door had come to be the portal through which I stepped +from safety into meddling. Yet I opened it now with laughter peeping +from my sleeve. To bait the Englishman in Huron seemed a good-natured +enough jest, and full of possibilities. + +But one look at the prisoner drained my laughter. He was lying on a +bench, his face hidden in his out-flung arms, and his slenderness and +helplessness pulled at me hard. I knew that despair, and even tears, +must have conquered now that he was alone, and I wished that I might +save his pride, and slip away until he had fought back his bravery, and +had himself in hand. + +But he had heard my step, and drew himself up to face me. He turned +with composure, and fronted me with so much dignity that I stood like a +blundering oaf trapped by my own emotion. There was no emotion in his +look. He had been thinking, not despairing, and his face was sharpened +and lighted with such concentration that I felt slapped with cold +steel. He looked all intellect and determination,--a thing of +will-power rather than flesh and brawn. + +My Huron speech seemed out of place, but there was no choice left me, +so I used it. There was refuge for my dignity in the sonorous +syllables, and I spoke as to a fellow sachem. Then I asked the +prisoner his name, and waited for response. + +None came. I knew that I had spoken rapidly, so I tried again. I +chose short words, and framed my sentences like a schoolmaster. The +prisoner listened negligently. Then he put out his hand. "Pardon, +monsieur. But I speak French,--though indifferently," he said, with a +slight shrug. + +My anger made my ears buzz; I would not bandy words with a man of so +small and sly a spirit. I turned to leave. + +But the prisoner stepped between me and the door. "You were sent here +with a message," he said; "I am listening." + +His sunken brown eyes were so deep in melancholy that I could not hold +my wrath. "Was it a gentleman's part to lead me on to play the clown?" +I asked. "I came in kindness." + +He smiled a little,--a bitter smile that did not reach his eyes. "I am +not, like you, a gentleman by birth, monsieur," he said slowly, "and so +often trip in my behavior. Granted that you were amusing,--and you +were, monsieur,--can you blame me for using you for a diversion? I +infer that you have come to tell me that the time left me, either for +amusement or penitence, is short." + +It was bravely said, but I knew from the careful repression of his tone +that his hardness was a brittle veneer. He was young to carry so bold +a front when his heart must be hammering, and I would willingly have +talked any doggerel to have afforded him another smile. + +"I know nothing of your future," I hastened, "save that, arguing from +your youth, it will probably be a long one. It was your past that I +was sent to ask concerning. The commandant sent me. Since you speak +French, my mission is over. The commandant will come himself." + +The prisoner laid his hand upon a chair. "Will you sit? I would +rather it be you than the commandant, if it must be any one. What were +you sent to ask?" + +I waved away the chair, for I thought of the passing moments and of +what I had promised Father Carheil. "I must hasten," I said irritably. +"What was I to ask? Why, your name, the account of your capture,--the +story of your being here, in brief." + +He saw that I glanced at the door, and he walked over to it. "Wait!" +he interposed. "I can answer you in a line. But one question first. +Monsieur, I--I"-- + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"Monsieur, I--I must think a moment. Be patient, if you will." + +His voice was calm, but there was something in his look that forced my +pity. "Tell me nothing that I must not tell the commandant," I warned. +"But be assured of my good will." + +I think he did not hear. He sat with his forehead on his hand, and I +knew that he was thinking. He looked up with a new decision in his +glance. + +"Monsieur, you lead a strange life in this place. I see nothing but +men. Have you no families?" + +I swore under my breath. I had expected some meat from his remark, and +he gave me trivialities. I had no time for social preliminaries, and I +felt sudden distaste for him. I pointed him to the window. + +"We are not all men. There are Indian women in plenty. Shall I draw +the shade that you may see? There are many of my countrymen to tell +you that they find them fair." + +"But are there no white families in the settlement?" He was leaning +forward, and he ignored the insult of my air. + +I shook my head. "None, monsieur. None short of Montreal." + +He tapped the floor, and frowned. His look went beyond me, and he was +absorbed. "None short of Montreal. Indeed you live a strange life. +Monsieur, is it far to Montreal?" + +I shrugged. "Yes, it is a long journey. Come, monsieur, we waste +time. I wish you good-day." + +He glanced up quickly. His was a misleading face, for while his words +were meaningless, and showed him of a small and trifling mind, his look +was yet keen. He saw that I had wearied of him, and he put out his +hand to beg my attention. + +"Wait, monsieur!" he cried. + +"Monsieur, you waste my time." + +"I shall waste no more. I have made up my mind. Listen. I promised +you my story." He had regained all his quiet arrogance. "It is soon +told. I am an Englishman,--or a colonist, if you like the term better. +I was in a village on the Connecticut frontier, when your savages came +down upon us. No, I am wrong. They did nothing so manly as to come +down upon us boldly. They slid among us like foul vermin afraid of the +light. They achieved a notable victory, monsieur. I see that you +recognize their prowess, and that the feast you have prepared for them +is lavish. It was a noble battle. I regret you could not have seen +it. There were some hundreds of the Indians, and a scattering handful +of us. A quiet farming community, monsieur, that worked hard, supped +early, and slept the deep sleep of quiet living and sober minds. We +waked to find the scalping knives at our throats, and the death scream +of children in our ears. Look over the bags of scalps, and see the +number of women and old men that your braves had to overcome. You will +be proud of them, monsieur." + +I clenched my hand, and wished myself elsewhere. "But our Hurons say +they were neutral," I defended. + +He lifted his brows. "You prefer to give all the praise to the +Algonquins?" he asked smoothly. "I understand. Yes, I have heard that +the Algonquins stand even closer to you than your Hurons here. They +are more than brothers. Indeed, it is said that your Count Frontenac +calls them his children. Well, they did you credit. It took ten of +them to silence Goodman Ellwood's musket, but they butchered him in the +end. If you find a scalp with long silky white hair, monsieur, it +belongs to John Ellwood. Value it, and nail it among your trophies, +for it cost you the lives of a full half-dozen Algonquin braves." + +I kept my eyes down. I had come here to unearth a certain fact, and I +would pursue it. "But were the Hurons neutral?" I persisted. + +I could not even guess at what raw nerve I touched, but he suddenly +threw his arms wide as men do when a shot is mortal. His cool +insolence dropped from him, and he was all fire and helpless defiance. +He stamped his foot, till, slender as he was, the boards rang. "Were +the Hurons neutral?" he mocked, in a voice so like my own I could have +sworn it was an echo. "What manner of man are you? Are you made of +chalk? If you had seen a child's brains dashed out against a tree, +would you stop to ask the Indian who held the dripping corpse what +dialect he spoke? Oh, a man should be ashamed to live who has seen +such things, and who keeps his sword sheathed while one of your Indian +family--brothers or children--remains alive! If you had blood in your +veins, you would be man enough not to put even an enemy upon the rack, +in this way, and force him to live that time over to glut your +curiosity. Here is my answer, which you may take to your commandant. +I am an Englishman, I am your prisoner, and you are to remember that I +am, first, last, and at all times, your foe. Now go to your +commandant, and tell him to keep himself and his schoolboy orations out +of my way." + +He was shaking, and his face was dead white. I did not answer, but I +took him by the arm, and led him to a chair. He tried to resist, but I +am strong. Then I brought him a cup of water from a pail that stood +near by. + +"Drink it," I said, "and when food is sent you, eat what you can. Your +race is not over, and if you wish to trick and outwit us,--as you were +planning when I found you lying here,--you will need more strength than +you are showing now. I have but one more question. You must tell me +your name." + +For a moment he did not reply. He was still shaking painfully, and +water from the cup in his hand splashed over him. "My name," he said +slowly, "my name is--is Benjamin Starling." + +I took the cup away. "I am waiting," I said after a pause. + +"Waiting for what, monsieur?" When he willed, he could speak +winningly, and he did it now. + +I took paper from my pocket. "For your real name," I answered. "I +shall write it here, and you must swear that it is true. Don't +squander lies. Plain dealing will be best for us both." + +He was as changeable as June weather. Now it was his cue to look +pleading. "The Indians called me by a name that meant bitter waters," +he said hesitatingly. "But my baptismal records say Starling. I am +telling you the truth, monsieur." + +I wrote the name so that he could see. "You give me your word as a +gentleman," I said, "that your name is Benjamin Starling." + +He stopped a moment. "Can a yeoman swear himself a gentleman?" he +asked. "I think not. I will be more explicit. I give you my oath as +a truth-loving person that my name is Starling." + +I put up the paper. "Thank you," I said. "And now. Monsieur +Starling, we will say good-by. I am only a chance wayfarer here, and +leave in an hour. I cannot wish you success, since you are my foe, but +I can wish you a safe return to your own kind. I hope that we shall +meet again. When I am dealing with a foe that I respect, I prefer him +with his hands unbound. Good-day, monsieur." + +But he was before me at the door. I saw that my news troubled him. + +"You mean," he asked, "that you are leaving here for several days?" + +I laid my hand on the latch. "No," I answered. "I leave for several +months, monsieur." + +"For months! Oh no!" he cried, and he drew back and looked at me. +"Then I am like never to see you again," he said thoughtfully. "You +have been kind to me." He suddenly thrust out his hand. "Monsieur, I +will be more generous than you. I wish you success." + +But I would not take his hand on those terms. + +"Don't!" I said roughly. "You cannot wish me success. It will mean +failure to you--to your people. No, we are foes, and let us wear our +colors honestly. Again, I wish you good-day," and, bowing, I raised +the latch, and made my way out of the commandant's door. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +IN THE OTTAWA CAMP + +Chance was disposed to be in a good humor. I had scarcely stepped into +the crowd when I saw Pierre. + +I went to him knowing that I should find opportunity for reproof, but +should probably lack the will. For Pierre was my harlequin, and what +man can easily censure his own amusements even when he sees their harm? +Then there was more to make me lenient. The man's family had served my +own for as many generations as the rooks had builded in our yews, and +so, on one side at least, he inherited blind loyalty to my name. I say +on one side, for his blood was mixed; his father had married a vagrant, +a half-gypsy Irish girl who begged among the villages. It was the +union of a stolid ox and a wildcat, and I had much amusement watching +the two breeds fight for the mastery in the huge Pierre. The cat was +quicker of wit, but the ox was of more use to me in the long run, so I +tried to keep an excess of stimulants--whether of brandy or +adventure--out of Pierre's way. + +He was a figure for Bacchus when I found him, and I pricked at him with +my sword, and drove him to the water, where I saw him well immersed. + +"Now for quick work," I admonished. "I must see the commandant, but +only for a moment. You gather the men, and have the canoes in waiting. +There will be no tobacco for you to-night, if you are not ready when I +come." + +He shook the water from his red locks, and wagged his head in much more +docile fashion than I had expected. "My master cannot go too fast for +me," he said, with a twist of his great protruding lip. "I have no +liking for white meat broth myself." + +He drew back like one who has hit a bull's-eye and waited for me to ask +questions, but I thought that I knew my man, and laughed at his +childishness. + +"No more of that!" I said with perfunctory sternness. "What pot-house +rabble of Indians have you been with that you should prattle of making +broth of white men, and dare bring such speech to me as a jest! That +is not talk for civilized men, and if you repeat it I shall send you +back to France. You are more familiar with the savages than I like a +man of mine to be. Remember that, Pierre. Now go." + +But he lingered. "It is no pot-house story," he defended sulkily. +"The Ottawas say they will go to war if the prisoner is not put in the +pot before to-morrow morning. And what can the commandant do? The +Ottawas are two thousand strong." + +I knew, without comment, that he was telling me the truth, and I stood +still. The din of the dancing and feasting was growing more and more +uproarious, and the Indians were ripe for any insanity. I saw that the +sun was already casting long shadows, and that the night would be on us +before many hours. I looked at the garrison. Two hundred Frenchmen +all told, and most of them half-hearted when it came to defending an +Englishman and a foe! I turned to my man. + +"You have been with an Ottawa girl, called Singing Arrow," I said. +"Are you bringing me some woman's tale you learned from her?" + +He squirmed like a clumsy puppy, but I could see his pride in my +omniscience. "She is smarter than a man," he said vaguely. + +And Pierre were the man, I thought that likely. "Take me to her," I +commanded. + +I expected to follow him among the revelers, but he turned his back on +them, and led the way through a labyrinth of huts, a maze so winding +that I judged him more sober than I had thought. When we found the +girl, she was alone, and I saw from her look that this was not the +first visit Pierre had made. + +He summoned her importantly, while I withdrew to a distance, that I +might have her brought to me in form. I was intent and uneasy, but I +had room in my heart for vain self-satisfaction that I knew something +of the Ottawa speech. My proficiency in Indian dialects, for which the +world praised me lightly, as it might commend the cut of my doublet, +had cost me much drudgery and denial, and my moments of reward were +rare. + +Singing Arrow came forward, and curtsied as the priests had taught her. +I was forced to approve my man's taste. Not that she was beautiful to +my eyes, for brown women were never to my liking; but she had youth and +neatness, and when she raised her eyes I saw that I might look for +intelligence and daring. I motioned her to come nearer. + +"Singing Arrow," I said, in somewhat halting Ottawa, "my man here tells +me that your people are talking as if they were asleep, and were +dreaming that they were all kings. Now when a dog barks at the moon, +we do not stop to tremble for the safety of the moon, but we ask what +is the matter with the dog. That is what I would ask of you. What do +the Ottawas care what Monsieur de la Mothe-Cadillac, the commandant, +does with the English prisoner?" + +She thought a moment, and plaited the folds of her beaver-skin skirt as +I have seen many a white girl do. "I know of no dog," she said, with a +slow upward glance that tried to gauge my temper. "And as for the +moon, it shines alike on the grass and the tall trees, and I have seen +no Frenchman yet who could reach up and pluck it from its place. But I +have seen a chain that was once bright like silver grow dull and eaten +with rust. A wise man will throw such a chain away, and ask for a new +one." + +I shrugged. "You have sharp eyes," I said, shrugging yet more, "if you +can see rust on the covenant chain that binds the French to the +Ottawas. Is that what you mean?" + +She looked up with a flash of fun and diablerie such as I never thought +to see in a savage face. "Then monsieur has seen it himself?" + +Now this would not do; I would leave all gallantries to my subordinate. +"This is idle talk," I said, as I lit my pipe, and prepared as if to +go. "It is the clatter of water among stones that makes a great noise, +but goes nowhere. I have seen many strange things in my life, but +never a cat that could fight fair, nor a woman that could answer a +direct question. Look at this now. I ask you about the English +prisoner, and you talk to me of covenant chains." + +She looked at me with impassive good humor, her hands busy with her +wampum necklaces, and I saw, not only that I had failed to entrap her +into losing her temper, but that I was dealing with a quick-witted +woman of a race whose women were trained politicians. But, for reasons +of her own, she chose to answer me fairly. + +"The Frenchman is right," she said, with a second swift upward look to +test the ice where she was venturing. "I was wrong to talk of the +covenant between the French and my people, for the chain is too weak to +bear even the weight of words. It is rusted till it is as useless as a +band of grasses to bind a wild bull. But blood will cleanse rust. +What can the French want with their enemy, the Englishman? Why should +not the prisoner's blood be used to brighten the chain between the +Ottawas and the French?" + +Now this was plain language. I listened to the girl's speech, which +was as gently cadenced as if she talked of flowers or summer pleasures, +and thought that here was indeed snake's venom offered as a sweetmeat. +But why did she warn me? I had a flash of sense. I went to her, and +compelled her to stop playing with her necklaces, and raise her eyes to +mine. + +"Answer me, Singing Arrow," I commanded. "You are repeating what was +said in council, but you do not agree with it. You would like to save +the prisoner. Look at me again. Am I right?" + +I could as well have held an eel. She slipped from my hands, and ran +back to her lodge. "So!" she cried, as she lifted the mat before her +door. "So it is not the dog alone that smells at its food before it +will eat. Why stay here? I have given you what you came to find. +Take it." And with a look at Pierre she disappeared. + +Pierre gave a great bellow of laughter. "I will catch her," he +volunteered, and made a plunge in the direction of the lodge; but I +caught him by the hood of his blanket coat, and let his own impetus +choke him. + +"Now look you, Pierre Boudin," I said, "if you cross the door of that +lodge on any errand,--on any errand, mind you,--you are no longer man +of mine. I mean that; you are no longer man of mine. Now begone. +Gather the men, go to the canoes, and wait there till I come. I may +come soon; I may not come till morning." + +Pierre was still swelling. "As the master wishes," he said, with his +eyes down; but I thought that he hesitated, and I called him to me. + +"Pierre," I said, "do you want to be sent back to Montreal, and have +François Labarthe put in your place?" + +The giant looked up to see how much I was in earnest, and, as I +returned his look, all his bravado oozed away. It does not seem quite +the part of a man to cow a subordinate till he looks at you with the +eyes of a whipped hound; but it was the only method to use with Pierre, +and I went away satisfied. + +I turned my steps toward the main camp of Ottawas, and there I idled +for an hour. The braves were good-humored with me, for I was a trader, +not an officer, and their noses were keen for the brandy that I might +have for barter. So that I was free to watch them at their gambling, +or dip my ladle in their kettles if I willed. All this was good, but +it went no further. With all my artifices, I could not make my way +into the great circle around the camp fire, and I grew sore with my +incapacity, for I saw that Longuant, the most powerful chief of the +Ottawas, was speaking. I picked up a bone and threw it among the dogs +with an oath for my own slowness. + +The bone was greasy, and I took out my handkerchief, but before I could +use it to wipe my hands, a young squaw pushed her way up to me, and +offered her long black hair as a napkin. She threw the oily length +across my arm, and flattered me in fluent Ottawa. + +Then I forgot myself. The body frequently plays traitor in +emergencies, and my repugnance conquered me so that I pushed her away +before I had time to think. Then I knew that I must make amends. + +"The beauty of your hair is like the black ice with the moon on it," I +said in Ottawa. "You must not soil it." + +She giggled with pleasure to hear me use her own tongue, and would have +come close to me again, but I motioned her away. + +"Stay there, and catch this," I called, and I tossed her a small coin. + +For all her squat figure and her broad, dull face, she was quick of +action as a weasel. She put her hands behind her, and, thrusting her +head forward, caught the coin in her teeth. It was well done; so well +that I said "Brava," and the braves around me gave approving grunts. + +"Look at the stupid Frenchman!" I heard a brave say. "For all his red +coat, and his manners, he cannot catch as well as a squaw." + +I pointed my finger at him, and twirled my mustaches as if I were +playing villain in a comedy. "A Frenchman does not stoop to catch +money," I vaunted, with my arm akimbo. "Money is for slaves and women. +Give the Frenchman a spear, a man's weapon, and then see if he can be +beaten at throwing by a squaw." + +There was a laugh at this, and the squaw to whom I had thrown the coin +seized a sturgeon spear that leaned against a kettle, and hurled it at +me. I turned my back, and caught it over my shoulder. There was a +hush among the braves for a moment, then a low growl of applause. "Let +him do it again," several voices cried. + +I did it again, and yet again, in varying ways. The squaw threw well, +and caught better, but she was no match for my longer reach and better +training. Still we kept the spear hurtling. With each throw I backed +a pace or two toward the council fire, and the crowd made way for me. + +"This is enough," I cried at length. "Have you no men among you who +can throw better than your women?" + +A dozen braves, each clamoring, leaped forward, but before I could +select one of them, a young Huron elbowed his way into the midst of +them and placed himself before me. + +"Try your skill with me," he cried, striking his breast, and though he +spoke a broken mixture of Huron and Ottawa, his air was so rhetorical +that the Ottawas, always keen for a dramatic moment, stopped to listen. + +I balanced the spear in my hand. "I am trying my skill with the +Ottawas," I said. "Since when has Pemaou, the Huron, forsaken his own +camp?" + +The Huron drew back. He was a son of that adroit traitor, the Baron, +and what his presence in this camp meant, I could only surmise. But +that he was of the Baron's blood was enough for me, and I was prepared +to dislike him without searching for excuse. He, on his part, looked +equally unfriendly. He resented my recognition, and taking his war +spear from his belt he sent it at me with a vicious fling. + +This heated my blood. I caught the spear, and tested it across my +knee. It was pliant but tough, and wickedly barbed,--a weapon for a +man to respect. "So you wanted the color of my blood," I called +angrily. "You have a good spear; all that was lacking was a man to aim +it;" and with a contemptuous laugh I tossed the spear back to his hand. + +Now this was mere childishness, and I knew it, and hoped, with shame +for my own lack of sense, that Pemaou would not accept my covert +challenge, and that the matter would end there. But Pemaou had +purposes of his own. He looked at the spear for a moment, then sent it +spinning toward my head. "On guard!" he cried in my own tongue, and I +remembered that he had spent some time among the French at Montreal. + +I caught the spear, and cursed myself for a fool. The Indians again +gave tongue to their approval, and gathered in a ring, leaving the +space between Pemaou and myself clear. All was ready for the game to +proceed. I hesitated a moment, and the Ottawas laughed, while Pemaou +looked disdainful. + +All animals are braggarts, from the cock in the barnyard to the moose +when he hears his rival, and man is not much better. I pricked the +spear point against my hand, and looked at it critically. + +"It is as dull as the Huron's wits," I scoffed, "but we will do the +best that we can with it;" and stepping back several feet nearer the +council fire, I put the weapon into play. + +I have been in weightier occasions than the one that followed, but +never in one that I can remember in more detail. In all lives there +are moments that memory paints in bright, crude colors, like pictures +in a child's book, and so this scene looks to me now. I can see the +crowding Ottawas, their bodies painted red and black, their nose +pendants--a pebble hung on a deer-sinew--swinging against their greasy +lips as they shouted plaudits or derision. But best I can see Pemaou, +dancing between me and the sun like some grotesque dream fantasy. He +was in full war bravery, his body painted red, barred with white +stripes to imitate the lacing on our uniforms, and his hair +feather-decked till he towered in height like a fir tree. I say that +he was grotesque, but at the time I did not think of his appearance; I +thought only that here was a man who was my mate in cunning, and who +wished me ill. + +This was no squaw's game, for each cast was made with force and method. +We both threw warily, and the spear whistled to and fro as regularly as +a weaver's shuttle. I backed my way toward the council fire until I +could hear Longuant distinctly, then I prayed my faculties to serve me +well, and stood my ground. My mind was on the rack. I could not, for +the briefest instant, release the tension of my thought as to the game +before me, yet I missed no sound from the group around the fire. The +low, red sun dazzled my eyes, and I waited, with each throw from the +Huron, for one that should be aimed with deadlier intent. + +For I realized that Pemaou was not doing his best, and, since I had +seen hate in his eyes, this clemency troubled me. I wondered if he +were a decoy, and if some one were coming upon me from the rear, and I +stopped and stared at him with defiance, only to see that he was +looking, not at me, nor at the attentive audience around us, but over +my head at the council fire. + +Then, indeed, the truth clapped me in the face, and I could have +laughed aloud to think what a puppet I had been, just when I was +comforting my vanity with my own shrewdness. Of course, Pemaou would +spare me, and so prolong the game. As the son of the leader of the +Hurons, he had more to learn from Longuant's speech than I. We were +playing with the same cards, but his stakes were the larger. I +suddenly realized that I was enjoying myself more than in a long time. + +But the test was to come. When Pemaou had heard all he wished, he +would aim the spear at my throat, and so, though I threw negligently, I +watched like a starved cat. I heard the council agree upon a decisive +measure, and I knew that the Huron's moment had arrived. He seized it. +His spear whistled at me like a bullet, but my muscles were braced and +waiting. I caught the weapon, and held it, though the wood ate into my +palms. The savages told the Huron in a derisive roar that the +Frenchman was the better man. + +And now it was my turn. So far I had thrown fair, without twist or +trickery, but I knew one turn of the wrist that could do cruel work. +Should I use it? Pemaou had tried to murder me. I looked at his +red-and-white body, and reptile eyes, and hate rushed to my brain like +liquor. I took the spear and snapped it. + +"Take your plaything!" I cried, and I tossed the fragments in his face. +"Learn to use it if you care for a whole skin, for I promise you that +we shall meet again." And turning my back on him, I strode out of the +Ottawa camp the richer by some information, and one foe. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +A DECISION + +I found Cadillac in his private room at the fort, and said to myself that +he looked like a man stripped for running. Not that his apparel had +altered since I had met him swaggering upon the beach the day before, but +his bearing had changed. He had dropped superfluities, and was hardened +and sinewed for action. + +I expected him to rate me for my tardiness in reporting my interview with +the Englishman, but, instead, he greeted me with so much eagerness that I +saw that some of my news must have run before. + +"What do you know?" I cried. + +He looked at the crowd swarming outside the window. "That we are in a +hornets' nest," he said, with a wry smile. "But never mind that now. We +must talk rapidly. I have been waiting for you. I could not act till I +learned what you had done." + +I bowed my regrets. "I was delayed. I saw the Englishman, and"---- + +He cut me short. "Never mind the Englishman," he cried, with a wave of +his impatient hand. "Tell me of the Ottawa camp. You have been there an +hour. I hear that you danced where they danced, and shared dog-meat and +jest alike. In faith, Montlivet, I have a good will to keep you here in +irons if I can do it in no gentler way. But what did Longuant say at the +council fire?" + +I made sure that we were alone, and dropped into a chair. My muscles +were complaining, yet I knew that I had but begun my day's work. "It was +a long council," I said, "and all the old men were there. Longuant was +leader, but he was but one of many. The Ottawas are much stirred." + +"About the prisoner?" + +I shook my head. "The prisoner is the excuse,--the touchstone. The real +matter goes deep. You have not blinded these people. They know that +England and France are at war, but they know, too, that peace may be +declared any day. They know that the Baron has made an underground +treaty with the English and the Iroquois, and they realize that the +Iroquois may attack this place at any time with half the band of Hurons +at their back. They have no illusions as to what such an attack would +mean. They know that the French would make terms and be spared, but that +the Ottawas and the loyal Hurons would be butchered. They are +far-sighted." + +Cadillac nodded heavily. "So they think that we would desert them, and +hand them over to the Iroquois? We must reassure them." + +I rapped on the table. "We did desert them once," I reminded him. "They +know how we abandoned the refugee Hurons at Quebec, and they hold our +word lightly. It shames us to say this, but we must see matters as they +are. No, the Ottawas do not trust us, but they trust the English less. +It is a choice of evils. But they are shrewd enough to see that their +greatest peril lies in a truce between ourselves and the English. Then +they would indeed be between two stools. Now, they see that there are +two paths open." + +Cadillac was breathing heavily. "You mean"--he asked. + +I spoke slowly. "I mean," I said, "that they must either go over to the +English themselves, or succeed in embroiling us with the English." + +"And they chose?" + +"They did not choose. They temporized. They see the advantages of a +union with the English. A better beaver market, and plenty of brandy. +It goes hard with them that we are frugal with our muskets, while the +English keep the Iroquois well armed. Longuant says, and justly, that it +is difficult to kill men with clubs. On the other hand they like us, and +find the English abhorrent. So they have virtually agreed to leave the +casting vote with you. They will come after sundown and demand that the +prisoner be given them for torture. If you agree, they will feel that +you have declared your position against the English; if you refuse"---- +I broke off, and leaned back in the chair. I had not realized, till my +own voice stated it, how black a case we had in hand. + +We sat in silence for a time. Cadillac scowled and beat his palm upon +his knee as a flail beats grain, and I knew he needed no words of mine. +I thought that he was going over his defenses in his mind, and I began to +calculate how many rounds of shot I had in my canoes, and to hope that my +men would not prove cravens. I knew, without argument with myself, that +the beaver lands did not need me half as much as I was needed here. + +At length Cadillac looked up. "Do you think the prisoner is a spy?" he +asked. + +I had dreaded this question. "I am afraid so, but judge of him yourself. +He speaks French." + +Cadillac half rose. "He speaks French? Yet he is an Englishman?" + +I nodded. "Undoubtedly an Englishman." + +"And you made nothing of him?" + +I could only shake my head. "Nothing. He tells the story that I should +tell if I were lying,--yet he may be telling the truth. He is a bundle +of inconsistencies; that may be nature or art. He may be a hot-headed +youth, who knows nothing beyond his own bitterness over his capture, or +he may be a clever actor. I do not know." + +Cadillac gave a long breath that was near a sigh. "Poor soul!" he said +unexpectedly. "Well, spy or otherwise, it matters little for the few +hours remaining." + +I caught his arm across the table. "Cadillac!" I cried, with an oath. +"You would not do that!" + +He shook off my hand, and looked at me with more regret than anger. "I +am the rat in the trap," he said simply. "What did you expect me to do?" + +I rose. "Do you mean," I cried, my voice rasping, "that you will not +attempt a defense? that you will hand a man, a white man, over to those +fiends of hell? Good God, man, you are worse than the Iroquois!" + +He came over, and seized my arm. "I could run you through for that +speech," he said, his teeth grating. "Are you a child, that you cannot +look beyond the moment? Suppose I defy the Ottawas. Then I must call on +the Baron to help me, since it was his men who brought the prisoner to +camp. Why, man, are you crazed? Look at the situation. Kondiaronk, the +Huron, will reason as the Ottawas have done, and throw his forces on +their side. I should be left with only the Baron to back me,--the Baron, +who has been whetting his knife for my throat for the last year. Why, +this is what he wants; this is why he brought the prisoner here! Would +you have me walk into his trap? Would you have me sacrifice my men, this +garrison, why, this country even, to save the life of one puny +Englishman, who is probably himself a spy?" He stopped a moment. "Why, +man, you sicken me!" he cried, and he slashed at me with his sword as if +I were a reptile. + +I took my own sword, and laid it on the table. "I am a fool," I said, +not for the first time that day. "But how will Frontenac look at your +handing a white man over to torture?" + +Cadillac put up his sword. "My orders are plain," he said, tapping a +sheaf of papers on his desk. "They came in the last packet. I am to +treat all prisoners in the Indian manner. As you say, the Indians have +come to think us chicken-hearted. We must give them more than words if +we are to hold them as allies." + +I seized sword and hat. "You are a good servant," I said. "I wish you +joy of your obedience," and I plunged toward the door. + +But an orderly stopped me on the threshold. "Is Monsieur de la +Mothe-Cadillac within?" he asked. "The Baron desires an audience with +him." + +Cadillac pushed up behind me. "I am here," he called to the orderly. +"Tell the Baron that I will see him when the sun touches the water-line." +Then he pulled me back into the room. "How much do you think the Baron +knows?" he demanded. + +I felt shame for my forgetfulness. "Pemaou was in the Ottawa camp," I +said, and I told him what had happened. + +Cadillac's face hardened. "Then they have sent to demand the prisoner," +he pondered moodily. "I had hoped for a few hours' respite. There might +have been some way for the prisoner to escape." + +I had been walking the floor, grinding my mailed heels into the pine +wood. "Escape!" I cried at him. "Escape! To starve or be eaten by +wolves! The torture of the Ottawas were kinder. Now it is your turn to +play the child. Escape? Yes, but not alone. Go, go, monsieur! Go and +meet the Baron. Go before I change my mind. Tell the Baron he can have +the prisoner. Then go to Longuant, and make what terms you will with +him. Make any concessions. Feather your nest while you can. I want +some one to win at this, since I must lose. I will take the prisoner +west with me." + +Cadillac seized me. "Montlivet, you mean this?" he demanded. His grip +ate into my arm. + +I reached up, and unclasped his fingers. "Unhand me!" I grumbled. "I +must be on my way." + +But he paid no heed. "You mean this?" he reiterated, taking a fresh +grip. "The prisoner will hamper you." + +I tore my arm away. "Hamper me!" I jerked out. "He will clog me, +manacle me! But it is the only thing to do. Now go, while this mood +holds with me. Five minutes hence I may not see things in this way. Go! +I will arrange the escape. You, as commandant, must not connive with me +at that. Go to the Indians, and make your terms. If you can hold them +off till moonrise, I promise you the prisoner shall be gone." + +But Cadillac would not hasten. He gave me the long estimating glance +that I had seen him use once before. "Montlivet," he said, with his arm +across my shoulder, "you are doing a great thing; a great thing for +France. No man could serve his country more fully than you are doing at +this moment. It is an obscure deed, but a momentous one. No one can +tell what you may be doing for the empire by helping us through this +crisis." + +But I was in no mood for heroics. "I am not doing this for France," I +cried irritably. "I live to serve France, yes; but I want to serve her +in my own way. Not to have this millstone tied around my neck, whether I +will or no. Don't think for a moment that I do this because I wish." + +Cadillac removed his arm and looked at me. "Then you do it from liking +for the Englishman?" + +I should have had the grace to laugh at this, but now it was the torch to +the magazine. "Like him! No!" I shouted, with an oath. "He is bitter +of tongue, and, I think, a spy. He is obnoxious to me. No, I am doing +this because I am, what the Ottawas call us all,--chicken-hearted!" and +sick with myself and what I had undertaken, I flung out of the door. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +DAME OPPORTUNITY + +The first thing to do was to see the Englishman. For the third time in +twenty-four hours I went to the commandant's quarters. + +The prisoner was at the window when I entered, and again I caught his +look of keen intelligence; a look which he apparently tried to veil as +his eyes met mine. That bred suspicion in me. Yet I could not mistake +the welcome with which he greeted me. + +"I am gratified to see you again, monsieur." Now it was a civil +phrase, and well spoken, but it annoyed me. I could not understand his +change of look, and I dislike complexities. What was the man +concealing that he should drop his eyes before me. In spite of the +seriousness of our joint state, I felt much inclination to take time, +then and there, to box his ears, and tell him to be more forthright. +My annoyance made it easier for me to come without phrases to the meat +of the matter. I pressed him to a chair, and stood over him. + +"You looked out of the window, Monsieur Starling. What did you learn?" + +He glanced upward. "The Indians are excited. Am I the cause?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +His glance fell. "They want me--for torture," he said, with steadiness +I could not but commend. Then he turned suddenly. "Can your +commandant protect me?" + +Now this was unexpected. I had intended to lead up to this situation +gradually, and the question caught me unguarded. The prisoner was +looking me full in the face, and he read there what I had hoped to hide. + +"I understand," he said. + +I have been with many men when they heard their death sentence, and +those who take it as this man did, with spirit and knowledge, rob me of +my hold on myself, so that I show emotion of which I am ashamed. I +turned away. "Wait, wait, monsieur, I have not said all!" I cried. +"There is still one chance for you." + +He shook his head. "Small chance for me with that swarm outside. +Well, what must come, will come." He was white, and his eyes grew even +more sombre; but, though his blood might play him traitor, his will was +unshaken. I saw that. I saw, too, that his manner had lost all +bravado. He suddenly came to me, and laid his hand on my arm. "I am +glad, monsieur, that it was you who came to tell me. It is much easier +to hear it from you. All day you have been thoughtful for me; for me, +a stranger and an enemy. I wish that my blessing might bring you +happiness, monsieur." And before I could check him, he raised my hand +to his lips. + +I was greatly disturbed. "Stop! Stop! Stop!" I expostulated, too +much stirred to think what I was saying. "This is not the end. You +are to go west with me." + +He drew away. "With you? Who are you? What is the west? You +said--you said that I had to die." + +I felt unsteady, and ill at ease. "Let us discuss this like sane men!" +I exclaimed, angry at myself. "You jump at conclusions. That is a +woman's foible. Who am I? A trader, Armand de Montlivet, from +Montreal. I am going west for peltries. It will be a hard trip, and +you will suffer; but it is your only chance. I will get you to the +canoe in some fashion soon after dusk. I have not made my plans. I +must reconnoitre. Hold yourself ready to do what I ask." + +Still he drew away. "I shall be a burden. Tell me the truth, shall I +be a burden?" + +"Yes." + +He did not look angered. Indeed, his eyes softened till I thought him +near tears. "And you will do this for me! Run all this risk! And yet +you never saw me before to-day!" He touched his hand to mine. + +Somehow this again annoyed me. The man was concealing something from +me, yet affected to be moved to open emotion by his gratitude. I was +not at the bottom of him yet. I removed his hand. + +"Monsieur, you forget," I corrected. "You said we were foes, and we +are. I never embraced an Englishman, and I shall not begin now--now +that our nations are at war. You may be a spy." + +"You think me a spy!" + +I sighed from exasperation, and pointed to the window. "Monsieur +Starling, wake up to this situation. What does it matter what you are, +or what I think? We waste time. Say that you will follow me, and I +shall go and make my plans." + +But still he looked at me. "Then you encumber yourself with me from +abstract duty. Personally you distrust me." + +The truth seemed best. I bowed. + +He thought this over. "Then I refuse to go," he decided quietly. "I +refuse." And he bowed toward the door to put a period to our interview. + +But here my patience broke. I took him by the arm, and held him +ungently. "Words! Words! Words!" I mocked at him. "What would you +have me say? That I love you? In faith, I don't. You irritate me; +annoy me. But save you I will, if only for my peace of mind. Look at +me. Look at me, I say." + +He obeyed. All his hard nonchalance had returned. + +"Do you trust me?" I demanded. + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"Then you will come with me?" + +"No, monsieur." + +This was madness--and it took time. "Indeed you will come," I said +between my teeth. "And that without more words. Good-by." + +But he caught my sleeve. "Then you take me against my will." + +I brushed him away. "And against mine, too, if you balk my wishes at +every turn. But I will take you. It is the only chance you have, and +if you are mad enough to refuse it, I must force it on you. Remember, +I shall use force. Now stay by the window, and await my signal. I +shall come when I can." + +He followed to the door. "You will not need to use force with me, +monsieur," he said soberly. "If you insist on taking me, I shall +follow your directions, and use what wit I can. But I cannot thank +you, for I cannot feel grateful. You give under protest, and I accept +in the same way. It is a forced companionship. I do not wish to die; +but, after all, it will soon be over, and life has not been sweet. I +would rather risk what meets me here than take help from you, now that +I see you give it grudgingly." + +This chilled me, and excuses pressed hot on my tongue. Yet it was +unwise to protest. Why should I wish his gratitude? It would hamper +us both. I had no desire to bind him to me with obligations. I felt +shame for my coldness; but, for once, my head ruled, and I let the +situation stand. + +"You are a brave man, monsieur," I said inconsequently. "I know that +you will bear your share to-night." + +He laid his hand on the door, and searched me with his sad eyes. "One +last word," he said, "and then I shall bury this for aye. Monsieur, if +I bring you misfortune, I ask you to remember--to remember from now +on--that you took me against my will." + +For all my impatience, I had some effort not to smile. He would be a +burden, he might be a nuisance, but he could hardly be a misfortune. +He had a weighty sense of his importance, to use so large a term. But +I would not ridicule him. "I promise," I said. + +He held out his hand. "Say that again with your hand in mine. Promise +me that, whatever disaster I bring you, you will remember that I came +against my will." + +Somehow that sobered me. "I promise," I repeated, and touching his +hand, and again bidding him be on the watch, I went away. + +I had no plans. My mind was cloudy as muddy water, and I sauntered +around the camp looking important and weighty with calculation, but +feeling resourceless and slow. Then I bethought me of Singing Arrow. + +I shouldered my way to her lodge with speed that made me a target for +scantily hidden laughter. But I could not find her. Lodge and fire +were alike deserted. I asked questions, but was met by shrugs. My +eagerness had been unwise. I had sought too openly and brusquely, and +the Ottawas suspected my zeal of being official rather than personal. +I saw myself in their eyes as an officer of the law, and knew that I +had closed one door in my own face. I told myself contemptuously that +I had made so many blunders in that one day that I must, by this time, +have exhausted the list, and that I would soon stumble on the right +road as the only one left. + +And so it proved. For I went to my canoes, and there, perched +bird-wise on my cargo, and flinging jests and laughter at Pierre and +the men, sat Singing Arrow. + +It was what I most wanted, and so relieved was I at finding it, that I +could not forbear a word of reproof. + +"I told you to keep away from Singing Arrow!" I stormed at Pierre, like +the mother who stops to shake her recovered child before she cries over +it. + +Pierre grinned shamefacedly, but Singing Arrow smiled like May sunlight. + +"Has monsieur been looking for me?" she asked. "He carries the wet red +clay that lies in front of my wigwam," and she pointed a curving finger +at my boots. + +I could have embraced her. If I had no wit, she had it and to spare. +I made up my mind, then and there, to trust her. It was a mad chance, +but a good gamester likes a dangerous throw. + +"Come here, Singing Arrow," I commanded, and I would have led her down +the beach out of earshot. + +She followed but a step or two, then halted, balancing herself on one +foot like a meditative crane. "I want sunset-head to go too," she +insisted, darting her covert bird-glance at Pierre, and when I would +have objected, I saw her mouth pinch together, and I remembered that no +Indian will submit to force. So I let her have her will. + +We held short council: Pierre the peasant, Singing Arrow the squaw, and +I, the Seignior de Montlivet. We mingled suggestions and advice, and +struck a balance. The sunset flamed in the woods behind us, and I knew +that the moon rose early. I could have used a knife upon Pierre for +the time it took me to convince him that our canoes could carry one man +more. Heretofore my nod had been enough to bring him to my heels, but +now he thought his head in danger, so he fought with me like an animal +or an equal. The equal I would not tolerate, and the animal I cowed in +brute fashion. Then I sent Singing Arrow to do her work, and I went to +the Englishman. + +The Englishman saw me from the window, and was at the door before I +could lift the latch. Yet his eagerness did not trip him into +carelessness, and so long as the guards could see, he greeted me with a +hostile stare. + +I pushed him within, and closed the door. "Have you seen any one?" I +asked. + +"Only the guard with my supper." + +I drew a freer breath. "Good tidings. Then Cadillac has succeeded in +holding off the Indians until moonrise." + +He glanced out at the dusk. "That is not long," he said +dispassionately. + +I put out my hand. Somehow this youth could move me curiously by his +calmness, although I was no stranger to brave men. + +"The time is terribly short," I agreed, "but we will make it suffice. +And we need not haste. We can do nothing till it is a little darker, +then we shall move swiftly. A young squaw, Singing Arrow, will be here +in a few minutes. You are to escape in her dress." + +He wasted no time in comment. "Am I dark enough?" he demurred. "My +neck, where I am not sunburned, is very white." + +I had thought of this, and had warned Singing Arrow. "There is no +opportunity to stain your skin," I said, "so we must trust to the dark, +and a blanket wrapping. The Indian will wear leggings, skirt and +blouse of skin, so you will be fairly covered. The hands and hair are +the weak points. You will have to keep them in the blanket." + +He hesitated. "You can trust this girl?" he asked slowly. + +Now why should he ask what he knew I could not answer? "Can you trust +me--or I you, for the matter of that?" I jerked out with a frown. +"This is an outlaw's land, and the wise man trusts no one except under +compulsion. I would not trust Singing Arrow for a moment if I could +help myself, but she is our only hope, so I trust her implicitly. I +advise you to do the same. Half measures are folly. If you try to be +cautious in your dealings with her, you will tie her hands so that the +whole thing will fall through. If she betrays us--well, you are in no +worse estate than now, and we will still have my sword and my men to +depend on. But that is a slender hope, and we will save it for a last +resort. Now we will hazard everything on this plan." + +I had made my long speech nervously, knowing, in my heart, that what I +asked the man to do would take more courage of soul than one would +expect to find in his slender frame. For I might be throwing him over +to fiendish torment. The Indian women were cruel as weasels, and more +ingenious in their trap-setting than the men. It cooled my blood to +think what Singing Arrow's friendliness might really mean. + +The prisoner heard me without flinching. "But what is Singing Arrow's +motive?" he asked, with his mournful eyes full on my own. "We cannot +read men's hearts, but, after all, there are but few springs that rule +their action. You know that I will be loyal to you to save my head, to +which, though it has served me badly, I yet cling. I know that you +will be loyal to me because I see that God gave you a softness of heart +which your brain tells you is unwise. But what string pulls this +Indian that she should be a traitor to her people? If you will give me +a hint, I will play upon it as best I can." + +I could only shrug. "It may be my man, Pierre," I hazarded. "He is +red as a flamingo, and a fool into the bargain; but he has shoulders +like an ox, so the women want him. I can see no other motive. Will +you trust to that, monsieur?" + +He looked back at me with the flicker of a smile. "It is sufficient." + +I do not like smiles that I cannot understand, so I changed the +subject. "The plan is simple, monsieur," I said briskly. "Singing +Arrow will come to the window, and you are to make love to her. After +a time--not too long--you are to beguile her inside. I think the +guards will be complaisant, if you play your part well. Be as debonair +as possible. A soldier is always tempted to be lenient to a jaunty +foe." + +The prisoner nodded. "And you will meet me?" + +"Outside in the camp. I shall stand near a fire, so that you can find +me at once. Remember, monsieur, that you are Singing Arrow, and that +it will be your cue to follow me, and mine to shrug you away." + +The Englishman drew a long breath. "I am ready, monsieur," he said, +with a little squaring of the shoulders, and I saw that, mortal danger +that he was in, his spirit yet responded to the touch of comedy in the +game. + +I saluted him with a laugh of my own. "Then I will go, monsieur. Go +into the next room to change your clothing, or the guard may come in +and find you. One thing more. Remember you have overpowered Singing +Arrow, and taken your disguise by force. It may be well to lock her in +that inside room before you leave; but do as you like. I leave details +to you." + +He made acknowledgment with a sweeping bow. "I will be a monster of +cruelty," he promised, and he pulled at imaginary mustachios like a +child at play. + +Now it may be well to commend nonchalance, but there are bounds that +should not be passed. Had this man no reverence toward the mystery of +his own life that he jested on the edge of it? I had rather have seen +him with a rosary in his hand than with defiance on his lips. + +"Is life all bitterness and sharp-edged laughter with you, monsieur?" I +asked bluntly. "This may be our last talk. It is hardly a seemly one. +If you have messages to send that will not compromise you, I will try +and get them through--in case our plans fail." + +The prisoner eyed me oddly. "And in case you still live, monsieur," he +corrected. "You show much solicitude that I meet my end decorously, +yet I cannot see that you display any dolor over your own condition. +Why should I have less fortitude? You are like a man who cares not for +religion for himself, yet insists upon it for children and for his +womenkind,--for his inferiors in general. Why should you feel that I +need so much prompting?" His voice suddenly hardened. "Tell me. Is +it my youth that makes you feel yourself my mentor, or have I failed +you in any way? Answer." And he gave the stamp of the foot that I had +heard once before. + +How could I answer but with laughter? "You are a leopard, and a lamb, +and a bantam cock all in one," I jeered at him. "No wonder that I feel +you need a priest to shrive you;" and I laughed again, and would not +notice the hurt shining of his eyes as I went away. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE BEGINNING + +I had not vaunted idly when I told the prisoner that our plans were +ready. I had scarcely dropped the latch of the commandant's door when +I saw Singing Arrow sauntering near. + +She was graceful in her finery. Even a white man might commend. Her +skin garments looked soft and clean, and draped her cunningly. In the +dusk and the firelight with the bright blanket falling from her hair, +she looked so winning that I thought the guards could find excuse if +the prisoner loitered at the window. + +And loiter he did. I sauntered and watched while the prisoner and +Singing Arrow threw glances that proved them no tyros in the game of +love and life. The comedy was pleasing, and I did not wonder that the +guards tilted their heads to one side, and looked on with grins. +Singing Arrow bridled, and drew away and then drew near. All was going +as we planned, till Pemaou and a band of his Hurons came around the +corner of the house. + +I had done Pemaou the justice to hate him when I first saw him. And +one does not hate an inferior. He had as keen a mind as I have ever +known, and he was not hampered by any of the scruples and decencies +that interfere with a white man. So he was my superior in resource. I +knew, as I saw him look at me now, that my share in the game was over. +He had seen me listening to Longuant. Where had my wits been lagging +that I had not foreseen that he would have spies watching me, and would +trace some connection between the prisoner and myself? Well, there was +nothing left me but to stroll away. I did not dare go in the direction +of the canoes; it would be unwise to seek Cadillac; so I turned boldly +to the Ottawa camp. Hardly knowing what I planned, I asked for +Longuant. + +Somewhat to my surprise, the Ottawas listened with respect. I had +apparently won some reputation among them, and without demur they took +me to the chief. + +Longuant was squatting before his lodge. A piece of wood was laid +across his lap, and he was chopping rank tobacco with a scalping knife. +He smelled of oil, and smoke, and half-cured hides; yet he met me as a +ruler meets an ambassador. As I stumbled after him into his dark +lodge, I saw that he was preparing to greet me with all the silence and +circumlocution of a state messenger. I had no time for that,--though +it gratified me. I tramped my way through all ceremony and plunged at +my point. + +"I am no envoy," I began, shaking my head in refusal of the proffered +seat upon the mat beside him. "I am only a voice. A bird that calls +'beware' from the branches, and then flits away. Why watch the old +wolf, and let the cub play free? Would you make yourself a +laughing-stock among your people, by letting the Englishman escape into +the Baron's hands? Pemaou, son of the Baron, stands with his followers +outside the Englishman's window. What does he seek? I am no Ottawa. +I am a free man, bound to no clan, and to no covenant, and friend to +the Ottawas and Hurons alike. But I do not like to see a wise man +tricked by a boy. I have spoken." + +Longuant rose. "My brother's voice speaks the truth," he said, +gathering his robes to leave me. "My brother sent his words, even as +he flung his spear at Pemaou, straight at the mark. Only one word goes +astray. My brother is not the free man he vaunts himself. He is tied +by hate;" and pushing out his lip till his huge nose pendant stood at a +right angle, he went on his way to be my willing, but entirely +unhoodwinked agent. + +I went to my canoes, stumbling a little, for I was tired. It was dark +now, and the fires glowed brazenly, so that the Indians showed like +dancing silhouettes. The sky was cloudless, and to the east lay a band +of uncertain light that meant the rising moon. This was the time that +I had planned to use in action, and the knowledge that I was powerless +to accomplish anything myself made me so irritable that I could not +bear to speak even to Pierre and the men. I sent them to a distance, +and sat down on the sand so torn and frayed by anxiety that I was like +a sick man. + +And here, after long minutes, Singing Arrow found me. She came running +down the beach, slipping on the rolling pebbles, and careless either of +her grace, or of the noise she made. + +"And you sit here doing nothing!" she cried, quite as a white girl +might have done. + +I pushed her down on the sand. "Stop!" I said. "I knew you would seek +me here. Now answer briefly. Pemaou and his men would not let you get +near the window?" + +"No." + +"They had seen you with me," I explained. "I feared it. Did Longuant +and his men come?" + +"Like bees," she answered, with a fling of her arms. "They are +everywhere. We can do nothing;" and she dropped her head in her arms +and cried. + +Now what indeed could be her motive? "Never mind, Singing Arrow," I +said experimentally. "What is it to you, after all?" + +She wriggled her head to throw me a wrathful look. "I always win at a +game," she mumbled. + +She was as hard to read as a purring cat, but that did not matter. +"We've not lost yet," I said, as slowly and coolly as if I did not see +the disk of the moon looking at me. "I sent Longuant there. I was +sure that Pemaou would keep you away, and I am playing for time. So +long as the Ottawas and Hurons are squabbling with one another, +Cadillac will not deliver the prisoner. But we must get them farther +away. Singing Arrow, I have brandy in my cargo. I have drawn off two +large flasks. Could you carry them to the other end of the camp, and +send word among the braves?" + +Now this was a contemptible thing to suggest; but any one who stoops, +as I was letting myself do, to use a cat's-paw to work out his ends +will surely soil his fingers. The sword is the clean weapon. I felt +that even this Indian would look at me with disdain, but she did not. +She thought a moment, then wagged her head in assent. + +"But I promised Father Carheil not to drink any brandy myself," she +added defiantly, as if she feared I might protest, and I felt myself as +low as the hound that I had kicked that day because it would have +stolen a child's sagamité. + +"Make haste!" I cried, in a fury with myself, and with the speeding +time. "Tell the prisoner to saunter away from the door, to pass the +largest fire, and then to go straight through the old maize field +toward the timber. I will be waiting there." + +"I can do it," she vaunted, and she gathered the brandy under her +blanket, and ran like a quail, while I went to my red-topped giant. + +"Pierre Boudin," I cried, with my hand on his collar, "if we get back +to this place alive, you are to marry that Ottawa girl; to marry her +fairly with priest and book. Remember that." + +My man turned a complacent eye. "If the master wishes," he said +dutifully. Then he gave a fat chuckle. "I promised to marry her when +we came back if she would save the Englishman,--but then I thought that +we should go home the other way." + +Why try to teach decency to a barnyard brood! I dusted my fingers free +from the soil of him. "I will marry her to you, if only to see her +flout you," I promised vengefully. "Now to the canoes, and have your +paddles ready." I had no smile for him, though he sought it, as I +walked away. + +The moon had swung free of the horizon, and cabins and trees stood out +as if made of white cardboard. The night was chilly, and as I crept +along the edge of the maize field, I caught my numbed toes on the +stiffened clods of earth turned up by last year's plowing. Yet I moved +silently, and by keeping in the shadow of blackened stumps and withered +maize stalks, I reached bow-shot of the commandant's door. + +Truly one part of my plan had succeeded. The house was the centre of +an ant-like swarm skurrying here and there, apparently without method, +but with a jerkiness of movement that suggested attack and recoil. I +could distinguish the nose pendants of the Ottawas and the bristling +crests of the Hurons. It was a crew with choice potentialities for +mischief. Cadillac was justified in feeling that his scalp sat but +unsteadily upon his head. + +I had given Singing Arrow fifteen minutes to hide her brandy and send +word to the braves, and I counted off the time to myself, trying to +numb my anxiety. But among savages news runs underground as well as +over, and I had scarcely covered half the space that I had set for +myself before the crowd began to disappear. It slipped away like water +between the fingers, and in a moment there remained only the guards, +Pemaou, and a few Ottawas. The guards, relieved from immediate anxiety +of a riot, leaned listlessly on their muskets, the Ottawas would not +interfere with a girl of their own tribe, and Pemaou could not watch +all quarters at once. Now was certainly the time to act; but where was +Singing Arrow? My inaction pressed on me like a hideous weight. It +seemed days instead of hours that I had sat like a crone by her distaff +and let others do my work--or fail to do it. Why was Singing Arrow so +slow to come? + +I thought that I had not shifted my gaze from the house for more than +an instant; but now, as I watched the door, I learned, and not for the +first time, that a white man should have a score of eyes instead of two +when it comes to watching an Indian. For the commandant's door +suddenly opened, and out came a blanket-draped, skin-clad figure. My +muscles stiffened. It was the Englishman. Singing Arrow had brought +him the clothing, and I had not seen. + +So the moment had come. I gripped my sword as one turns instinctively +to the friend loved best. Would the prisoner act his part? So keen +was my anxiety, that I felt my spirit leap out to stand by his side, +and I shut my teeth upon the cry of encouragement that welled within me. + +But he needed no help of mine. He made his way leisurely past the +great fire, walking with wonderful mimicry of a woman's gait, and he +kept his face well in the shelter of the blanket in a way that +suggested coquetry rather than disguise. + +And in this manner he came straight to me. He came, unerringly as a +sleep-walker, past fires, past Indians, and through the gaunt rows of +maize. He looked neither to right nor left, and no one molested him. +He came to where I stood silent, and put out his hand to touch mine. + +"It is done," he said quietly. + +His fingers were warm, and his touch tingled. I marveled. "It is a +miracle," I said. + +He looked at me in question. "Your hand is very cold. Monsieur, +monsieur, did you fear for me so much?" + +I bowed. "Yes. I did not think it could be done. You are an able +man, monsieur." + +He did not answer for a moment, and he followed me silently along the +edge of the maize field. Then he touched my shoulder. + +"Monsieur, how strange the world looks to-night. The moon,--have you +ever seen it so remote and chill? Oh, we are puppets! No, it was not +my wit that carried me through. It was Fate. Life has been hard on +me. She is saving me now for some further trick she has to play. I +pray that it may not bring you ill, monsieur." + +I knew not how to answer, for I was moved. As he said, the moon made +the world strange. Great beauty is disturbing, and the night was like +enchantment. He had come to me like a dream spirit in his woman's +dress. I felt the need of a dash of cold water on my spirit. + +"You must not put on woman's fancies with your petticoats, monsieur," I +cautioned over my shoulder. "Now we had best not talk till we are safe +afloat in the canoes." + +The men were ebon, the canoes vague gray, and the water like sheet ice +under the moon. The Englishman and I crept across the pebbles with +panther feet, and the splash of a frightened otter was the only sound. +I laid my finger on my lips, and my men checked their breathing. We +were silent as figures in a mirror. I tapped the Englishman on the +shoulder, and motioned where he should sit in the canoe. + +And then, from the timber fringe behind us, came a call. "Singing +Arrow! Singing Arrow! Stop! Stop!" + +Sword unsheathed, I dashed across the open space of moonlight toward +the trees. Who called, or why, I did not question. But I must smother +the noise. "Singing Arrow!" the call came again, and the roar of it in +the quiet night made my flesh crawl. + +I had not taken two strides into the timber when I saw a man running +toward me. He was still calling. I leaped upon him, winding an arm +about his neck, and covering his mouth. He was a small armful; a +weazened body to have sheltered so great a power of lung. + +"Hush! For the Virgin's sake, hush!" I stormed in noisy whispers. +"Father Carheil, is it you? Hush! Hush!" I dropped my hand from his +mouth. "Now speak in whispers," I implored. + +The father shook his cassock free from my fingers. My embrace had been +fervid, and his cassock was rumpled, and his scant hair was stringing +wildly from under his skullcap. But shrunken and tumbled as he was, he +was impressive. With some men, if you disarrange their outer habit, +you lower their inner dignity as well. It was not so with Father +Carheil. + +He looked at me closely, with a sober gentleness that became him well, +and that he did not often use. "Why should I go quietly?" he asked. +"My errand is righteous. It is only black work that needs the cover of +a silent tongue. My son, you are letting your men abduct Singing +Arrow. Did your promise to me count for so little in your mind?" + +I bowed, and mumbled something meaningless to gain time. I was not +clear as to my course. "Why do you think that we have Singing Arrow?" +I blurted out finally. + +"Pemaou told me." + +Pemaou again! But we had tricked him. I grinned with joy to think of +him with his nose still rooted close to the deserted hole. I could +almost forgive him for the trouble he was causing now. + +"Pemaou lied," I said cheerfully. "Singing Arrow is not with us, +Father Carheil. Will you go back now? My mission is urgent and +demands secrecy." + +He looked at the ground. "You swear to this? You swear that Singing +Arrow is not with you?" + +I laid my hand on my sword, and bared my head. "I swear." + +He turned away. "You seem a gentleman," he said reluctantly. "I +regret that I troubled you. I wish you fair winds, monsieur." + +Beshrew me, but the man could get close to my heart. "Thank you, +father," I cried earnestly. "I wish that I might requite your trust +with greater candor. But, in the end, I hope to justify my means. I +would that I might have your blessing on my mission and my cargo." + +Blockhead that I was, not to have let well enough alone. For I was to +blame for what followed. I may have grown unconsciously rhetorical, +and waved my hand in the direction of the canoes. I do not know. I do +know that at the word "cargo" Father Carheil turned and looked toward +the shore. There, in my canoe, with gaze searching the timber where I +had disappeared, stood a figure,--a woman's figure in Singing Arrow's +dress and blanket. + +Father Carheil looked at me. He did not speak; it was not necessary. +I endured his gaze for a moment, then sold my prudence to save my +honor. I laid my finger on the priest's arm. + +"Come with me to the canoes," I demanded. "If you find yourself in the +wrong, it may teach you to trust a man's word against your own +eyesight." + +He assented. We walked swiftly across the moon-lighted open, and I had +scant time for fear. Yet I was afraid. I could give the Englishman no +helping hand, no word of warning. Would he rise to the moment? + +He did. He turned his back upon us, Indian-fashion, and squatted in +his blanket. He lost all suggestion of Singing Arrow's slim +elasticity, and sat in a shapeless huddle. I laughed with relief. + +"Where is Singing Arrow now?" I twitted the priest. "Is this she?" + +The old priest peered. "No," he meditated. "No, this is not Singing +Arrow." He wheeled on me with one of his flashes of temper. "I cannot +recognize this girl. Let her take off her blanket." + +I motioned my men to take stations in the canoes. "Father Carheil, I +beg you to let me go at once," I implored. "You see you were wrong. +As to this Indian, you never saw her; she is a stranger here." + +But the father was not pacified. "Let her take off her blanket," he +repeated, with all the aimless persistency of age. + +Did I say that the man had grown close to my heart? Why, I could have +shaken him. But the Englishman cut the knot. He turned with a hunch +of the shoulder, and peered at us over the corner of his blanket. +Gesture, and roll of the head, he was an Indian. I was so pleased at +the mimicry, that I gave way to witless laughter. + +"Now!" I cried triumphantly. "Now, are you satisfied?" + +But the priest did not reply. He stared, and his eyes grew +ferret-sharp. Then he shifted his position, and stared again. It beat +into my brain that he had lived thirty years among the Indians, and +that his eyes were trained. He could see meanings, where I saw a blank +wall. + +"This is no Indian woman," he said slowly, with a wagging forefinger +that beat off his words like the minute hand of Fate. "This is--this +is--why, this is the English prisoner!" + +He brought out the last words in a crescendo, and again my hand clapped +tight against his mouth. + +"Be still! Be still!" I spluttered wildly, and I threw a disordered +glance at the horizon, and at my astonished crew. I had not meant that +the men, except Pierre, should be taken into the secret until we were +well afloat. Here was another contretemps. + +"Are you mad, Father Carheil!" I began, with a sorry show of dignity, +while my palm stuck like a leech against his lips. "This is not"---- + +"Not any one but the prisoner himself," interrupted the Englishman's +voice. He dropped his blanket, and sprang to the sand. "Do not lie +for me, monsieur," he went on in his indolent, drawling French that +already had come to have a pleasant quaintness in my ears. "Monsieur, +let me speak to the father." + +If Nature had given me a third hand, I should have used it to throttle +the Englishman. "Get back in the canoe!" I stormed. + +He motioned me away. Standing slim and tall in Singing Arrow's dress, +he put me--such creatures of outward seeming are we--absurdly in the +wrong, as if I had been rude to a woman. + +"Father Carheil," he began, "your ears at least are not fettered. +Listen, if you will. This man is not to blame. I was thrown in his +way, and he took me from pity, to save my life. Now that I am +discovered, I will go back to prison with you. Let this man go west. +Whatever his business, it is pressing." + +With two mad men on my hands, I had to choose between them. I dropped +the priest, and gripped the Englishman. + +"If you go back, I go with you!" I raged in his ear. Then I turned to +Father Carheil. "Are you going to report this, father? It is as the +Englishman says. I take him as the only way to save him from torture. +May we go?" + +The father thought a moment. "No," he said. + +I gripped my sword. "You have seen torture, Father Carheil. Would you +hand this man over to it?" + +The father looked at me as if I were print for his reading. "I am +piecing facts together," he said, with unmoved slowness. "Singing +Arrow is in league with you, for the prisoner is wearing her clothes. +The Indians are wild with brandy, which, it is rumored, Singing Arrow +furnished. The brandy must have come from you. Is that so? Answer +me. Answer, in the name of the Holy Church. Is that so?" + +I bowed. "You are a logician," I said bitterly. "Father, I can hear +the tom-toms. It is a miracle that we have escaped undetected so long. +Our respite cannot last many minutes longer. May we go?" + +My tone seemed to reach him, and he wavered a moment. "Perhaps," he +began haltingly; then he backed several paces. "No!" he cried, all his +small wiry figure suddenly tense. "No! You are a dangerous man. You +carry brandy, and no one knows your errand. If I let you go, I may +save one man from torture,--which, after all, is but an open door to +the blessed after life,--but I shall be letting you carry brandy and +perdition on to scores of souls. No." And he opened his mouth to call +for help. + +But I was on him before his shout could frame itself to sound. I drew +my handkerchief, and tied it, bandage-firm, across his mouth. Then I +called to Pierre, and bidding him bring me thongs from our store in the +canoe, I proceeded to bind the priest firmly. He was slight as a woman +in my hands. I could feel the sharpness and brittleness of his old +bones through his wrinkled skin, and I was sick at myself. "I am +sorry. I am sorry. I am sorry," I heard myself repeating, explaining +to him, and to myself, and, mostly, to the God who judges us. I looked +at the wonderful mobile old face, with all its weakness, and all its +wonderful white goodness, and hated myself for laying hands of violence +on such a man. "I am sorry," I cried again. I looked at the spit of +land that separated us from the camp, and the light from the fires +glowed red above it. The din of dogs and men swelled high. Something +was happening. I glanced down at the priest, but turned away quickly, +for I had no stomach for what I had done. + +"They will find you soon," I said, with my throat tightening. "God +knows I'm sorry." + +Then I dashed to the canoes. "Quickly!" I cried, and I shoved the +Englishman down behind me, that I might not have to see even the glint +of his red blanket to anger me by thought of what I had sacrificed. + +In a moment, our paddles were dipping. I looked back at the +settlement. "It is done!" I cried under my breath, and I could not +forbid a moment of exultation. I glanced at the Englishman. + +But I met no exultation there. The man's strange eyes were still +grave. "No, monsieur, it is just begun," he corrected, and I thought, +as I saw his look at the retreating shore, that he shrunk from the +uncertainties ahead more than from the death behind. Was there a +coward streak in him, after all? I turned my back, and did not speak +again. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +PARTNERS + +To paddle by day, to work in sun and breeze, is a pastime, but to +paddle by night drains a man's endurance. For long hours our canoes +nosed their way around headland after headland and along wild shores +peopled by beasts and shadows. The black water was a threat and a +mystery, and the moonlight was chill, so that our limbs, which should +have bounded with red blood, were aching and leaden with the cold. I +stretched myself with relief when the red-streaked horizon told me it +was time to land and make camp. + +I was prepared for pursuit, but knew that, with Pierre in one canoe and +Labarthe in the other, we must be well in advance of it. Now I +purposed to stop and hide. It is more to my taste to be hound than +hare, and I do not like an enemy snapping at my heels. So I prepared +to land. Once the pursuing canoes had passed us we could take up the +chase on our own part and follow at leisure. + +I called the word to the other canoe, and then as we swung shoreward I +turned to look at the Englishman. All night I had heard no sound from +him, nor glanced his way. My thoughts of him had been bitter, for he +was a sore weight on my hands. Yet this I knew was unjust, and I was +shamed for my own bad temper. My surliness must have pricked him, as +he sat silent through the long hours of dark and cold; and now that the +approaching sun was putting me in a better humor, I could see that I +had been hard, and I determined to speak to him fairly. + +And so I turned, puckering my lips to a smile that did not come easily, +for my face was stiff and my spirit sore. But I might have spared my +pains. The prisoner was asleep. He lay in a chrysalis of red blanket, +his head tipped back on a bundle of sailcloth, his face to the stars. +He was submerged in the deep slumber where the soul deserts the body +and travels unknown ways. Judged by his look of lax muscles and +surrender, he had lain that way for hours,--the hours when I had been +punishing him with my averted glance. + +I woke him with a hand on his shoulder. + +"You slept well," I accused. + +He shivered under my hand and opened his eyes. It took him an instant +to recognize me, but when he did he smiled with relief. I could not +but see that there was something pleasant in his smile. I saw, too, +that sleep had wiped the lines from his face, and given him a touch of +color. + +"Did I sleep? Did I really sleep?" he marveled. "Monsieur, you are +very good to me." + +But I was in no holiday humor, so only shrugged, and told him to unload +the bales. He smiled again, nodding, and jumped to the shore with +buoyancy that was an affront to our numbed muscles. But once at work +he was as useless as a sailor in a hayfield. He could lift nothing, +and he was hopelessly under foot. I bade him stand aside, and I prayed +for patience. After all he was young, and had been through great +hardship. I would spare him what I could for a time. + +It is depressing to work in a cold dawn on an empty stomach. Our +landing had been made at the mouth of a rivulet, and we followed it +till we found a place, some quarter mile inland, that was open enough +for a camp. Here bale by bale we brought the cargo, piling it under +trees and covering it with sailcloth. The canoes we put bottom up in +the open, that the sun might dry them. I left Pierre hidden at the +shore to watch the horizon for our pursuers, and the rest of us +proceeded to breakfast. + +It was cheerless. When I say we made a camp it is misleading, for we +could not swing our kettles for fear of the betraying smoke. We sat +down stiffly, for the ground was still wet from the night dew, and we +passed our bags of dried maize and jerked meat from hand to hand. I +made some ado to eat cheerfully, for I saw that the men were surly from +this unnecessary hardship. The western Indians were friendly, and if +we had not had this incubus of an Englishman on our hands we should +have had fire and song, a boiling pot, and roasting maize cakes. There +was no muttering among the men, for I was there, but they looked +glowering, and drew away. + +The Englishman ate in silence. I was too ruffled and crossgrained to +talk to him, but I could not keep myself from watching him. His eyes +were less sad than I had thought. I could imagine that they might +easily be merry. But they were watchful eyes. He saw the discontent +among the men, and finally he rose and went to them. I followed him +with some warning in my look, for I thought that he was vexed, and I +knew that his tongue was sharp, but I realized in a moment that his +brain was in control and that he was safe. + +"I have brought you all discomfort," he said, with a shake of the head, +and his slow French gave his words more meaning than they perhaps +deserved. "I regret this. It is hard for me to bear, for it is new to +me to be a burden. But what can I do? I cannot go away. I am not +enamored of this voyage, for I do not like being thrust upon your +company, but you saved my life, and I have no right to throw away what +you went to such lengths to preserve. What would you have me do?" + +The oafs exchanged glances. They spoke after a minute in a united, +disjointed grumble. + +"You don't work." + +The Englishman looked at them and at me. I realized that he was +curiously slight and young, and that we seemed hostile. That was +hardly just, and I was ready to go to his rescue. But he turned from +me to the men. + +"It is true that I work very badly," he said. "I do not know how. But +men are born of women, and--well, what a man can do I can learn. +Suppose, now, that I go and relieve Pierre at the watch. If you will +show me what to do I think you will find me teachable. I shall try to +be as little of a burden as possible. Here is my hand on it." And he +held out his slim palm for their grasp. + +Again they stared; but the hand won them. They touched it fumblingly +and were impressed. They were a slow lot, selected for various +purposes other than wit. Their minds moved too sluggishly for swift +reactions, and I dismissed anxiety about them from my mind. + +The Englishman turned to me. "Will you conduct me to the shore? I +will take Pierre's place." + +It was my turn to stare. "Suppose you conduct yourself," was on my +tongue, but I let it escape unsaid. "Come, then," I answered, with a +shrug. + +I led the way over logs and under bushes, and the Englishman followed +silently; silently at least as to his tongue, but his feet were +garrulous. They stepped on twigs, stumbled on slippery lichen, and +shouted their passage for rods around. + +"I would rather lead a buffalo in tether," I fretted, and just as I +said it he completed the sum of his blundering by catching his toe in a +root and plunging head foremost to the ground. I pulled him up by the +sleeve of his skin blouse and shook him free from loam and twigs. + +"Now will you stop that?" I cried. + +He looked at me gravely, unabashed, but curious. "I did not fall +purposely to irritate you. Gravity, which, I understand, operates +alike on the learned and the foolish, had some share in it. Why are +you angry?" + +"Why are you reckless? You have crashed through here as careless of +noise as a stag with the hounds hot behind." + +He dropped to the ground, and took one slim moccasined foot in his +hand. He looked at it soberly. "It seems a small thing, does it not, +to cause so much ill-will between us? It has neither weight nor mental +force above it, that it should make the earth tremble. No, monsieur, +you are searching for excuses for your annoyance with me. You are +annoyed all the time. I vex you by my silence, still more by my +speech. We are to be some time together, and I do not want to be a +constant canker. Is it not possible for you to forget me, to ignore +me?" + +I saw he was in earnest. "And so you really do not know what irritated +me? Are you so little of a woodsman?" + +"I have never traveled through the woods." + +I gave him a dubious glance. "Yet you were weeks with the Hurons after +your capture." + +I saw him set his teeth hard as if at a memory. "We traveled by water +ways. I was little on the shore except at night." + +A sudden picture sickened me. The nightly camp and this slender lad +with his curious air of daintiness, and the great oily Hurons lounging +in the dirt and smoke. + +"Were they cruel to you?" I broke out. + +He shook his head. "No," he said, with the air of justice I had liked +in him heretofore; "no, they were not cruel. Indeed they were almost +kind, in that they left me a great deal alone. I feared from the +clemency they showed me that they were reserving me for torture." + +I eyed him with some skepticism. "It was not the Hurons, but their +rivals, the Ottawas, who would have sent you to the stake," I explained +curtly. "The Hurons--those of the Baron's band--would have held you as +a hostage,--perhaps as a deputy." + +He looked up with interested eyes. "You are playing some political +game, and these tribes are your counters. I should like to understand." + +I examined his look, but could make nothing of it. "You will pardon +me, monsieur," I said with a shrug, "but these are troublous times, and +I find it hard to believe you as ignorant as you seem." + +He still met my look. "And if I were not ignorant?" he asked. "Could +I, one Englishman, alone and unarmed, accomplish anything that would +hurt you? You see that I am harmless. Why not be friends?" + +I shrugged my shoulders. + +"So you are determined that I am a secret ambassador," he meditated. +"Well, I must act my part with dignity. And you think we cannot be +comrades? I dislike to irritate you as I do." + +I answered him soberly. "We will be partners," I agreed; "friends for +the night's bivouac, willing to help and to share." + +"But you will not trust me?" + +I looked away. "What would a truce between us mean? You are English, +I, French. Be assured that sooner or later the fox eats the hen." + +He laughed. "Who is to be the fox?" He jumped to his feet. +"Partners, then, it shall be. A strange creed. A helping hand to-day +and a knife in the back to-morrow. But I shall follow you, monsieur." + +"You will follow?" + +"In this path as in others. If you refuse to admit even a truce +between us, I agree. I shall keep out of your way as much as possible. +Only--I would not have you think me ungrateful." + +I could never forbear a smile when he was serious. "We shall probably +think very little about each other," I said comfortably. "Once settled +into routine we shall have work to fill our thought. You will learn to +do your share. I think you willing." + +"Indeed I am willing, monsieur." + +"Good. So we shall work hard, sleep early, and the months will pass +before we know. Let us not talk of trust or friendship, since our ways +are divided." + +He bowed. "You are right, monsieur. And I meant only this,--I will +try not to be an irritation. You will try not to think of me as such. +You agree?" + +I smiled again. "Yes. Partners for the night," I reminded him. "I am +gratified, Monsieur Starling, that you see the matter so reasonably. +There is a gulf between us, and we cannot change it." We did not speak +again till we reached Pierre at the shore. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +WESTWARD + +Where were the pursuing Indians? For two days we watched, and the +water was unflecked by sign of life. We listened in the murk of night +and strained our eyes in the sun's dazzle. But we found nothing but +forest and sky and mystery. We were alone with our shadows. + +The forty-eight hours crawled. Except at noonday we were chilled, our +stomachs complained of the cold food, and our minds, and therefore our +bodies, were sluggish. The Englishman had the best of it, for he could +sleep like a bear in winter. Save for the hours when he was on watch +he knew but little of what was passing. He lay on the warm side of the +bank and slept with his face to the sun. + +At the end of two days I felt that I had paid all reasonable due to +Prudence, and could follow Inclination and be comfortable. + +"We shall push on at daybreak to-morrow," I told the men. "Hang the +kettles. To-night we shall have a boiling pot." + +Truly a fire makes home of a wilderness. We sat with our heels to the +blaze, and grew jovial. The Englishman said little, but was alert to +serve us. + +"It is salt to the broth to have it given me by a pretty squaw," I told +him as he filled my bowl a second time. + +He flushed with anger, and I thought myself that it was a cheap jest +and unworthy. He had been considerate to wear his disguise without +complaint. + +"I shall find something for you to wear when we shift our cargo to +leave," I promised him, and since my mood was still mellow, I looked +him over with a smile. He had smoothed and rounded in a wonderful +manner in his two days of rest, and I was pleased by the red in his +cheeks. "You will soon be a second Pierre if you sleep and eat in this +fashion," I laughed at him, "and then there will be no room for you in +the canoe. If all your countrymen sleep as you do, it is small wonder +that they have left us undisturbed in the beaver lands." + +He smiled a little in deference to my small jest, but the next instant +he looked away. "I had not slept in weeks," he said softly, as if +ashamed of his excuse. + +That shamed me, and I came to my feet and let my bowl of broth spill +where it would. + +"Sleep well, lad. You are safe with us," I cried, and I left my meal +unfinished, and went to the hidden cargo. Then and there I would find +proper clothing for the Englishman. I had been slothful in the matter. + +The clothing was stored deep, and I was bending to the search with some +shortness of breath, when the Englishman touched my shoulder. + +"Is it clothing for me?" + +I handed him a blanket coat for answer. "It is large, but warm," I +said, and bent again to my task. + +Still he kept a hand on my shoulder. "Monsieur, I am satisfied with my +dress." + +I could be putty in his hands one moment and scorn him the next. +"Nonsense!" I snapped over my shoulder. + +But he clung like a gnat. "It is not nonsense. Stop a moment and +listen to my reasons." + +I drew myself up reluctantly. "Well?" + +He stood with arms akimbo, his head to one side. "It is as plain as a +pikestaff. In this dress I can go where you cannot. I can reconnoitre +for you. In your man's coat I should be grotesque, for it is twice my +size. I should be noticeable and draw comment on us. As it is, I can +go unobserved." + +Now this was partly true. "But the presence of a woman would discredit +our canoes," I objected. + +He turned this over. "A woman would discredit your party?" + +"Of course." + +"But no one sees you but the Indians." + +"They report to the priests." + +"And you care what the priests think?" + +"I care for the good name of my company. Monsieur, do you like to wear +a squaw's dress?" + +He laughed. "Why not? I like women. Why scorn their garb? But I see +your reasons, monsieur. They are better than mine. So get out the +clothing,--though I shall look like an eel in a bear's skin." + +But I had lost my haste. Mock woman that he was, he was yet somewhat +pleasant to the eye. I had noticed more than once the picture that he +made as he came and went among the trees. Yet I thought lightly of +myself for enjoying the deceit of my eyesight. I rose. + +"Wear your skirts, then, for a few days longer," I said coldly. "It is +too dark to find what I want. Come now. We must sleep early, and be +up betimes, for we shall take up our journey in the morning." + +We were astir at daybreak. It was a red morning, and the birds were +singing. The air was keen, but the fire snapped cheerfully, and the +sky gave promise of a warm day. We carried the bales to the beach, and +were ready for the canoes. Then I missed the Englishman. He had been +aloof and moody during breakfast, and I searched for him with some +alarm. + +I found him in the hollow where he slept at night; he would not sleep +near the rest of us, saying that we disturbed him with our snoring. He +was on his back, his gaze on the tree-tops, and he was frowning heavily. + +I broke through the bushes. "You are ill!" + +He jumped to his feet. "No, no, monsieur! Ill only in mind. +Monsieur, I have failed you." + +I had never seen his aplomb so shaken. "Why were you lying on the +ground?" + +"To find out whether I could see again what I saw last night. Do you +see that balsam,--the one with the forked top? Monsieur, I saw an +Indian's face in that tree last night." + +I took his hands, which were cold. "Now tell me." + +He drew his hands away. "I am often awake in the night. Last night +the moon was clear. All at once I saw an Indian's face looking out +from that tree." + +"And you did not call me!" + +"Monsieur, I thought it must be fancy. I have troubled dreams. I +often--since my capture--think I see an Indian, and it proves to be +nothing but a bush. So I distrust my eyes, especially at night. Then +François was on watch, and several times he walked this way. If it had +really been an Indian would not François have seen?" + +I pointed him to the forest. "Do you see anything? We seem alone, yet +there are countless eyes watching us, from the squirrel over your head +to the Indian who may be listening now. When you lay on your back just +now did you see anything that looked like a face?" + +He shook his head. "No, the space was open. But, monsieur, I have +been over the ground. I can find no track." + +I went to the balsam and examined it. Then I called the Englishman and +pointed to a patch of rubbed lichen on the bark above our heads. "His +foot slipped. What was he like? How was his hair dressed?" + +He gasped a little. "Monsieur, it could not have been a real Indian. +The rubbed moss,--why, an animal could have done that. As to his +appearance, it was strange. His head was shaved on one side, and he +had long braided hair on the other. Surely it was a dream." + +I laughed. "Come, Starling, the canoes are waiting." + +"Monsieur, did you ever see an Indian shaved in that way?" + +I nodded. "Many times." + +"Monsieur, monsieur! What kind of Indians?" + +"It is a Huron mode." + +"Then we have been followed?" + +I shrugged. "Evidently. I do not understand their game, but they will +declare it soon enough. Come, Starling." + +But he lingered. "Monsieur, I blundered. I should have waked you." + +I stopped to lay a hand on his shoulder. "And you will blunder again +if you waste strength in regrets. Come, a hangdog look means a divided +mind, and I need your wits. Keep what watch you can, and we shall say +nothing of this." + +The men had carried the canoes to the beach, and now sat beside them, +drumming their heels in idleness. This gave me excuse for rating them, +and I did it with force of lung. Thinking that there were Indians--or, +at least, an Indian--in hiding, I hoped to draw them from cover in this +fashion. But my brave periods rattled uselessly. The forest kept its +springtime peace, and all that I got out of my display of spirit was +the excitement of playing my part well to an unseen audience. We were +allowed to load our canoes in peace. + +And more, we were allowed to depart. I was prepared for a flight of +arrows as a parting courtesy, but none came. Well, I could make +nothing of the situation. I stored the incident away as something to +remember, but not to distress myself about. The men sang as they +dipped their blades. I sang, too, when I could get the tune. It was a +fine morning, and my blood was astir. I saw the Englishman's color +rise under the whip of the quick motion and the keen air. He did not +speak unless I addressed him, but his look was almost happy. I could +not help liking it in him that he should enjoy the freedom of our +journeying, and should feel the majesty of the untraveled waters. I +saw that he was trying, as he promised, not to intrude upon my notice, +and I wondered a little what he would be saying to me now if I had +answered him otherwise, and had said that we could be friends. Perhaps +I had cut myself off from pleasant intercourse. He certainly had +gayety of spirit, even if he somewhat lacked in strength of head. + +We paddled only till mid-afternoon. I was as eager to meet the western +Indians as I had been anxious to avoid those we left behind, and now my +object was to invite attention. It was the season for beaver and otter +trapping, and I hoped to encounter hunting parties, so we landed, made +camp in the open, and piled our fire till the smoke blurred the sky. + +The spirit of the afternoon was toward idleness. We fished some, but +loitered more, and I had no word of reproof for the men for using hours +of good daylight playing the dish game they had learned among the +Ottawas. I heard them stake their patrimony in this world, and their +hopes of the next, on the throw of the black and yellow balls, but I +smoked my pipe, and let them brag and squabble. The bees were droning, +the sun lay warm on my back, and the forest was at peace. Two years +before, I remembered, I had worn lace and periwig on this day, and had +stood in his majesty's antechamber. Now I was gaunt and rusty as a +bear in spring. I looked at the secret forest, the uncharted water, +and at my smoke-grimed men squatting like monkeys over a savage game, +and I smote my knee with content. Truly it was a satisfying thing to +live while the world afforded such contrasts! And if I played my +present cards with skill, there might be a still greater contrast in +store for me when next I stood in that ante-chamber and heard my name +carried within. But that thought made me restless, and I went in +search of the Englishman. + +The Englishman had sat apart from us since we landed, and now I found +him with his back against a rock ledge looking at the water. I was in +a mood when I had to wag my tongue to some one and ease myself of some +spreading fancies. So I dropped down beside him. + +"Monsieur," I began by way of introduction to my theme, "are you indeed +a yeoman?" + +He looked up with an excess of solemnity. "No, monsieur." + +This was not the answer I had expected,--though, in truth, I had given +the matter little thought. "Then you are a gentleman?" I asked, +deflected from my intended speech. + +He shook his head. "No, monsieur, no gentleman." + +I did not like his hidden play with words, although I understood it. +"That is a farce!" I said unkindly. "It is folly to say that in your +Colonies you will have no caste. You cannot change nature. Can you +make a camel of a marmoset? I asked you what you were born?" + +He smiled. "I was born an English subject. Monsieur, I have answered +three questions. You owe me three in turn. Did you ever know Robert +Cavelier?" + +I stared. "The Seigneur de la Salle?" + +"The same." + +I stared again. "He has been dead for eight years. What do you, an +Englishman, know of him?" + +He gave a wave of the hand. "It was my question," he reminded. "I +asked if you knew him." + +I could not but be amused. How he liked to play at mystery! I would +copy his brevity. "Yes," I replied. + +He looked up with much interest. "So you knew him. Tell me, monsieur, +was he mountebank and freebooter, or a gallant gentleman much maligned?" + +I removed my hat. "He was neither. He was an ambition incarnate; an +ambition so vast there were few to understand it, for it had no +personal side. You said the other night that but few motives rule men. +La Salle has been misunderstood because the usual motives--greed, the +love of woman, and the desire for fame--did not touch him. He was the +slave of one great idea, and so he was lonely and men feared him." I +finished with some defiance. I knew that the blood had risen in my +cheeks as I spoke, for some subjects touch me as if I were a woman. +The Englishman was watching me, and I disliked to have him see what I +felt was weakness. But he did not scoff. His own cheeks flushed +somewhat, and he looked off at the water. + +"La Salle had more than a great idea," he said meditatively. "He had +great opportunity. He desired to found an empire in the west, did he +not, monsieur? Well, he failed, but, perhaps, that was accident. He +might have succeeded. It is not often in the history of the world that +such an opportunity comes to any person, man or woman. La Salle, at +least, tried to live up to his full stature. Monsieur, how pitiable it +would be, yes, more, how terrible it would be, to have such an +opportunity thrown in your way and know that you were too weak to seize +it." + +His voice rose to some earnestness, but I was ashamed of my own +emotion, and so threw pebbles at the water and kept my mood cold. I +suspected that through all this random philosophizing I was being +probed,--probed by an Englishman who ate my rations, and wore a squaw's +dress. I grew angry. + +"Who are you?" I demanded roughly. "Who are you, that you know of La +Salle and of his plans, and use the French speech. Can you, for once, +answer me fairly, or is there no sound core of honesty in you?" + +He rose. But he replied, not to what I had said, but to what I had +thought. "It is true that I share your food and your escort, and that +I requite you but poorly. Yet I must remind you again, I share it +under compulsion. I cannot be entirely open with you,--are you open +with me?--but I will tell you all that it is necessary for you to know, +all that touches you in any way. I said that I was a colonist. It was +the truth, but I had been but a year in the Colonies at the time of my +capture. I was born in England, and I have passed some time in France. +As to La Salle, I know nothing of him save what any man might hear. Is +it strange that I should be interested in him now that I find myself +following in his steps? Why do you always see a double meaning in my +words, monsieur?" + +I filled my pipe, and answered truthfully, "I do not know." + +But here he began to laugh. "Monsieur, forgive me, but truly I forget +at times that I am a spy, that you distrust me. You are kind and I am +interested, and so I grow careless of the fact that I am in a land +where no speech is idle, where every glance is weighed. This life must +unfit one for court talk, monsieur." + +What was he after? I eyed him over my pipe bowl, but said nothing. I +was minded to tell him to clean the whitefish for our supper, but +reflected in time that he would undoubtedly do it badly, so I spoke to +François instead. But when I would have gone away the Englishman +followed. He clapped me lightly on the shoulder, a familiarity he had +not ventured before, and he put his head on one side with a little +bantam swagger. + +"If I am an enemy, I am an enemy," he bowed. "Yet one question, +please, and I swear in the name of our joint father Noah that I ask it +with the fairest motives in mind. Tell me something of what we are +going to do. Is today a sample?" + +I could not hold my ill-temper. He must have led a psalm-singing youth +that every attempt at rakishness should make him as piquant as a figure +at a masque. + +"Yes," I replied. "To-day is a sample except that we have been +indolent this afternoon. I made this a semi-holiday as a sop to the +men for the added burden I have laid on them. I wish to do some +exploring along the coast here, and we shall have to spend some time +hunting. If you show yourself capable I shall leave you in charge of +the camp while we are away." + +This time he bowed gravely. "Thank you, monsieur. I have not been +blind to the way you have spared me hardship, but when I said that I +would do whatever you would teach me, I meant it. I think that I shall +make a good woodsman in time." + +But I laughed. "You wash yourself too much ever to make a good +woodsman," I told him, and I set him to measuring the meal for our +supper, for indeed his hands were well kept, and it was pleasant to see +him handle the food. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +I WAKE A SLEEPER + +What enchantment came upon the weather for the next week I do not know. +May is often somewhat sour of visage, but now she smiled from dawn till +starlight. We paddled and hunted and slept, well fed and fire-warmed. +It was more like junketing than business, and we were as amiable as +fat-bellied puppies. Even the Englishman looked content. We left him +in camp when we went to hunt, and on our return he had a boiling pot +and hot coals ready for our venison. I saw that he had won favor with +the men. Yet he kept aloof from all of us, as he had promised. + +This had gone on for a week, when one day, after we had placed the +Englishman on guard and were tramping back into the timber to see what +our eyes and muskets could find, Pierre pointed to a bent tree. "It +looks like a cow's back," he ruminated. "Trees are queer. Today, +where we made camp, I saw a tree that looked like a Huron with his +topknot." + +I stopped. "Where?" + +"I told the master. Near the camp." + +"You think it was a tree?" + +Pierre shuffled. "There are no Hurons here. This is the Pottawatamie +country. But I have thought about it all day. It was a queer tree. +Shall I go back and see?" + +I shook my head. I pointed to a stale bear print, and set the men upon +it. Then I turned and slipped back to camp. + +I walked with uneasiness in my throat. Why did a Huron dog us in this +fashion? Was he alone? Did he mean mischief to the Englishman? Was +the Englishman in league with him? Too many questions for a slow man. +I felt entrapped and befogged. I must see for myself. And so I crept +to the camp to spy upon it. + +I have never seen sweeter spot for an anchorage than we had found that +day. We had not camped on the open coast as had been our custom, but +in a sun-warmed meadow a few paces inland, where there were birds, and +tasseling grasses, and all kinds of glancing lights and odors to steal +into a man's blood. I parted the trees. The blur of gray ashes from +our fire was undisturbed; our canoes lay, bottom upwards, waiting to +have the seams newly pitched, and the cargo was piled, untouched, +against a tree. All was as we left it. And there, in the shade of a +maple, lay the Englishman, asleep on his scarlet blanket. + +I went softly, and looked down at him. I ought to have waked him, and +rated him for sleeping at his post, but I could not. It was balm to +find him here safe. He was twisted like a kitten with his head in his +arm, and I noticed that his dark hair, which he kept roughly cut, was +curly. He must have been wandering in the woods, for he had a bunch of +pink blossoms, very waxy and odorous, shut tight in his hand. I looked +at him till I suddenly wanted him to wake and look at me. I picked a +grass stalk, and, leaning over, brushed it against his lips. + +He woke as a child does, not alert at once, but with drowsy stirrings, +and finally with open eyes so sleep-filled that they were as +expressionless as a fawn's. He stared as if trying to remember who I +was. + +I sat beside him. "I am the owner of that cargo you are guarding," I +supplied to aid his memory, and then laughed to see the red flood his +face when he came to himself and realized what he had done. But I was +not at ease. He had shivered and drawn back when he first opened his +eyes. Could he be afraid of me? I should not wish that. I tried to +be crafty. + +"Who did you think I was when you first woke?" I asked, taking my pipe +and preparing to be comfortable. + +He pushed back his hair. "Benjamin," he answered vaguely. He was +still half asleep. + +"But you told me your name was Benjamin!" I put down my flint and +tinder. + +He met my look. "I have a cousin Benjamin, as well," he rejoined. "I +was dreaming of him. Monsieur, I am humiliated to think that I went to +sleep. I have never done so before." + +My pipe drew well, and I did not feel like chiding. "It does not +matter," I said, with a yawn. "You must not take it amiss, monsieur, +if I confess that, as a guard, I have never considered you much more +seriously than I would that brown thrush above you. What is your +posy?" and I leaned over and took the flowers from his hand. + +He smiled at me drowsily. "The arbutus," he explained, with a +lingering touch of his finger upon the blossoms. "Smell them, +monsieur. I found them in Connecticut last spring. Are they not well +suited to be the first flowers of this wild land? Repellent +without,--see how rough the leaves are to your finger,--but fragrant +and beautiful under its harsh coating. Life in the Colonies grew to +seem to me much the same." + +I turned the flowers over, and considered his philosophy. "You are +less cynical than your wont, monsieur." I reflected. "May I say that I +like it better in you? Cynicism is a court exotic. It should not grow +under these pines." + +He put out his hand to brush a twig from my doublet. "Cynicism is +often the flower of bitterness. Monsieur, you have been very good to +me. I cannot keep in mind my constant bitterness against life when I +think of the thoughtfulness and justice you have shown me." + +I jerked away. "Sufficient! Sufficient! Let us be comfortable," I +expostulated, and I turned my back, and gave myself to my pipe and +silence. + +The birds sang softly as if wearied, and the earth was warm to the +hand. I held the flowers in my fingers, and they smelled, somehow, +like the roses on our terrace at home on moonlight evenings when I had +been young and thought myself in love. I watched a drift of white +butterflies hang over an opening red blossom. Such moments pay for +hours of famine. It disturbed me to have the Englishman rise and go +away. + +"Why do you go?" I demanded. + +He came back at once. "What can I do for you, monsieur?" + +His gentleness shamed my shortness of speech. "It was nothing," I +replied. "The truth is, it was pleasant to have you here beside me." +I laughed at my own folly. "Starling, I will put you in man's dress +to-morrow!" I cried. + +He turned away. "As you like, monsieur. I think myself it would be +best. Will you get out the clothes to-night?" + +But I stared at him. "Why blush about it, Starling?" I shrugged. I +felt some disdain of his sensitiveness. "I did not mean to twit you. +I understand that you have worn the squaw's dress to help us. But I +think that the necessity for disguise is past. I see the skirts +embarrass you." + +He turned to look at me fairly. "I am not blushing, monsieur," he +explained, with a great air of candor. "It is the heat of the +afternoon;" but even as he spoke the red flowed from chin to forehead, +and when I looked at him with another laugh, his eyes fell before mine. + +I rose on my elbow. "Starling! Starling!" I cried. He made no sound. +His head drooped, and I saw him clench his hand. I stared. He threw +his head back, but when he tried to meet my look he failed. Yet I +looked again. "My God!" I heard my voice say, and my teeth bit into my +lip. I could smell the flowers in my hand, but they seemed a long +distance away. "My God!" I cried again, and I rose and felt my way +into the woods with the step of a blind man. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +MARY STARLING + +I do not know how long I walked, nor where, but the sun dropped some +space. When I returned to the camp, I found the men before me. They +had returned early, empty-handed, and were in an ill humor because the +Englishman was away, and there was nothing done. I commanded Pierre to +build a larger fire than usual, and keep it piled high till I returned. +Then I began a search for footprints. + +They were easily found. The young grass crushed at a touch, and it was +child's work to pick out the moccasin track across the meadow. When +the steps reached the beach they were harder to follow. I lost them +for a while, though there were scattered pebbles that would have led me +straight as a homing pigeon, had I been cool enough in mind to have my +eyes and wits as sharp as usual. As it was, I doubled, and squandered +time, until the sun began to loom red near the horizon. And all the +time I was saying to myself, "It is not true. It is not true." + +The windings of the track puzzled me. It would go straight into the +forest for a space, then double sharply, and come back to the beach. +It came to me at last that the wish to hide pulled the steps into the +timber, and that the fear and solitude of the great woods speedily +drove them out again. Then I determined to pay no attention to these +detours, but push along the beach. And doing this, I speedily came +upon the red blanket flung down in the shelter of a rock, and its owner +resting upon it. + +When I saw that all was well, I became suddenly exhausted, and went +forward slowly. I reached the red blanket, and looked down. Yes, all +was well. A hunting knife lay in an open bundle. I stooped and seized +it, and hurled it far into the water, and then I asked, rather huskily, +a question that had not been in my mind at all:-- + +"What is your name?" + +"Mary Starling." The woman had risen, and stood with her hands pressed +tight against her throat; the look she gave me was the saddest I had +ever seen. "Monsieur, you wrong me. The knife that you threw away was +for my protection,--for my food." + +I stood over her. "You swear this?" I said, breathing hard. + +She held her head high. "Monsieur, I am a coward in many ways, but not +in this. Life is bitter, but I will live it as long as the Powers +please. I will take what comes. Even among the Indians I was not +tempted to--to that." + +"You would have died. Starved here in the wilderness, if I had not +found you." + +"Perhaps, monsieur. Yet I gave myself what chance I could. I took +some food, a fishing line, and that knife." + +"Why did you leave me?" + +"Monsieur!" + +"I say, why did you leave me?" + +"Monsieur, what else could I do? I would have discredited you. Those +were your words. 'A woman would discredit our canoes.'" + +"Yet you were--you were a woman all the time." + +"Not in your eyes, monsieur." + +I gripped her hand. "Did the Indians suspect?" + +"Never for a moment." + +"Yet when they captured you"-- + +"I was in man's dress. I--I was trying to defend the blockhouse. The +men had--had--had"-- + +I seized her in my arm, and made her drink from my brandy flask. In a +moment the color came back to her lips, and she drew away. + +"I have never done this before," she explained unsteadily. "Never +since my capture. I suppose it is because--because you know. And so I +cannot play the man. Monsieur, believe me. I would never have come +with you, never, if I had not felt sure of myself. Sure that I could +play my part, and that you would not know. I--I--tried, a little, to +make you understand there at the commandant's, and when I saw that you +were really blind I thought that I was safe. Believe me, monsieur." + +I handed her my flask. "Drink more," I commanded. I took the blanket +and wrapped it around her though the air was still warm. "You must not +let yourself have chills in this fashion if you would save your +strength. Madame, I believe nothing about you that is not brave and +admirable. Are you Madame Starling, and is Benjamin your husband that +you took his name to shield you, and even repeated the name in your +dreams?" + +She looked at me, and I felt rebuked for something that had been in my +tone. "I am unmarried," she said steadily. "Benjamin Starling is a +cousin. Monsieur, there is nothing left either of us but to let me go. +Oh, if I could live this day over and be more careful! How was it, how +was it that I let you know?" + +I walked away. A frightened mink ran across my feet, and I cursed at +it. Then I walked back. + +"You did not let me know," I said, and I stooped to pick up her bundle. +"I know nothing. I was always the blindest of men. Come, Monsieur +Starling, let us go back to camp." + +Again she put her hands to her throat. "You mean that?" + +I took the bundle in my arm. "It is the only way. Come, monsieur." + +"I cannot." + +"I think that you must." + +"And can we go on as before?" + +I shrugged my shoulders. "We can try. Come, Monsieur Starling, the +men are growling, for you should have made the fire. Remember, you +strayed into the woods and lost your way. Come, come, you must do your +part." + +She looked at me, and a sudden dry sob shook her. "Forgive me, +monsieur!" she cried. "Yes, I will come." She tried to square her +shoulders. "I must get my spirit back before I can meet the men in +camp. Why am I such a coward!" + +I dropped the bundle that I might take both her hands. "Mademoiselle," +I said, "look at me. We are puppets in this matter. You have been +thrown into my hands against my will and your own, and I swear to you +that I will deal with you as fairly as I have strength. But you must +play your part. So long as I treat you as a woman you will be a +coward. Therefore I must be harsh with you. You have great will and +can endure loneliness of soul. I must thrust you back upon yourself. +There must be no woman in the camp. Come, monsieur, let us not talk of +this longer. Are you ready?" And not waiting for assent, I led the +way back to camp without word or look; I even kept myself from putting +out a helping hand when I heard the steps behind me falter and almost +fall. + +As we came to the fire and met the men, I found myself fingering my +sword. But it was a useless motion. The oafs saw nothing amiss, +though to me the very air was shouting the secret. We had a fat +larder, broiled whitefish and bear-steak from the kill of the day +before, and the men were thinking much of their stomachs and not at all +of the Englishman, save when they turned their backs upon him to show +that he was out of favor. So we sat down to meat. We sat a long time, +while the twilight faded and the stars pricked out clear, and there was +little talk between us. I was sitting at meat with a woman, a woman of +my own class, and I dared not offer her even the courtesy that one may +show a serving maid. Well, I would take what each day might bring and +not look ahead. I would think nothing about this person, as man or +woman, but would fill my thought with the purpose that had brought me +to the beaver lands. I told the men to be early astir that we might +make a longer day of travel on the morrow. + +The morrow was gray. The wind was in the east, and the sunrise watery +and streaked with slate-colored bands. The water was clammy and +opaque, repellent to touch and sight. The way looked dreary, and the +woman carried her head high, as if in challenge to her courage. She +had risen early, and had gone through her trifling share in the +preparations, and though she had avoided me, I could see that she was +ready to play her part. + +We paddled on our knees that morning, for the waves were choppy. By +ten o'clock the bands of cloud had merged into a dun canopy, and by +noon a slow, cold rain was drizzling. I dreaded a halt, but the +necessity pressed. I selected a small cove, well tree-grown, and we +turned our canoes inland. + +Fortunately the rain, though persistent, had been gentle, and had not +penetrated far under the heavy foliaged pines. We selected a clump of +large trees, chopped the lower branches, and scraping away the surface +layer of moss and needles found dry ground. Here we piled the cargo in +two mounds, which we hooded with tarpaulins and with our overturned +canoes. Our provisions were snug enough; it was ourselves who were in +dreary estate. + +It rained all the afternoon, stopped for a half hour at sunset, when +the sky, for a few moments, showed streaks of red, then closed in for a +night's drizzle. I had built what shelter I could for the woman out of +boughs covered with sheets of paper birch and elm. I had made a +similar shelter for myself that I might not seem to discriminate too +much in favor of the Englishman, and had told the men to do the same. +But they were indolent, and stopped at chopping a few hemlock boughs, +which they laid across crotched aspens. In truth, our shelters +accomplished little against the cold and wet. Do what we could, we had +great discomfort, and morning found the rain still dripping and the sky +still unbroken gray. + +And so it went for three days. The north country has such storms in +the spring, and they chill all beauty out of the woods. We could do +nothing. We kept what fire we could, regummed the seams of the canoes, +and for the rest ate, sulked, and tried to sleep. The men gambled +among themselves, and I grew weary of the click, click of their balls +and the sound of their stupid boasts and low jesting. Yet I had no +ground for stopping them, for the woman understood almost nothing of +their uncouth speech. Indeed, she was little in sight or hearing. She +stayed in her bark shelter, and I could hear her moving about, trying +to keep it neat and herself in order. In those three days I learned +one secret of her spirit. She had a natural merriment that did not +seem a matter of will power nor even of wish. It was an instinctive, +inborn content, that was perhaps partly physical, in that it enabled +her to sleep well, and so to wake with zest and courage. By night her +eyes might be dark circled and her step slow, but each morning there +was interest in her looks to see what the strange day was about to +bring. I had seen this nature in men many times; I had not thought +that it belonged to women who are framed to follow rather than to look +ahead. + +For twenty-four hours we held little more intercourse than dumb people, +but the second day she came to me. + +"Monsieur, would you teach me?" she asked. "Would you explain to me +about the Indian dialects?" + +I agreed. I threw her a blanket, which she wrapped around her, and we +cowered close to the bole of a pine. I took birch bark and a crayon +and turned schoolmaster, explaining that the Huron and Iroquois nations +came of the same stock, but that most of the western tribes were +Algonquin in blood, and that, though they had tribal differences in +speech, Algonquin was the basic language, as Latin is the root of all +our tongues at home. I took the damp bark, and wrote some phrases of +Algonquin, showing her the syntax as well as I had been able to reduce +it to rule myself. She had a quick ear and the power of attention, but +after an hour of it I tore the bark in pieces. + +"We will not try this again," I told her roughly, and we scarcely met +or spoke for the next day. + +The fourth morning came without rain, and the sun struggled out. We +built great fires, dried our clothing, repacked the canoes, and were +afloat by noon. By contrast it was pleasant, but it still was cold, +and we stood to our paddling. I wrapped the woman in extra blankets, +and made her swallow some brandy. I hoped that she would sleep, but +she did not, for it was she who called to us that there were three +canoes ahead. + +It showed how clogged I was by sombre thought that I had not seen them, +for in a moment they swept in full sight. I crowded the woman down in +the canoe, and covered her with sailcloth. Then I hailed the canoes +with a long cry, "Tanipi endayenk?" which means, "Whence come you?" and +added "Peca," that they might know I called in peace. + +The canoes wheeled and soon hung like water birds at our side. They +were filled with a hunting party of Pottawatamies, and the young braves +grunted and chaffered at me in high good humor. I gave them knives and +vermilion, and they talked freely. I saw them look at the draped shape +in the canoe, but I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Ouskouebi!" which +might mean either "drunken" or a "fool," and they grinned and seemed +satisfied. They promised to report to me at La Baye des Puants, and I +saw by their complaisance that the French star was at the zenith. I +should have stretched my legs in comfort as I went on my way. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +A COMPACT + +We paddled that afternoon till the men splashed water into the canoes, +which was their way of telling me that I had worked them hard enough. +It was dusk when we landed, and starlight before our kettles were hot. +I had been silent, when I had not been fault finding, till, supper +over, the woman, leaning across the fire, asked me why. + +"Is something wrong?" she ventured. "Ever since we met the +Pottawatamies you have seemed in haste." + +I looked around. The men were at a distance preparing for sleep. "I +wish to reach the Pottawatamie Islands before to-morrow night. +Mademoiselle Starling, may I talk of our future?" + +She rose. "You called me mademoiselle." + +"Yes, mademoiselle." + +"And you mean"-- + +I took off my hat. "Will you come with me?" I asked,--"come where we +shall not be overheard? We must talk of our future." + +I knew that she trembled as she bowed her assent, but I pretended to be +blind. I led the way outside of the circle of light, then waited for +her to come to me. I stood with my hat in hand, and my heart cried in +pity for the woman, but my tongue was heavy as a savage's. + +"I learned from the Pottawatamies," I said, "that Father Nouvel is +tarrying at their islands. If we haste, we may find him there. +Mademoiselle, will you marry me?" + +I do not know that I was cool enough to measure rightly the space of +the silence that ensued, but it seemed a long one. The woman stood +very still. A star fell slanting from the mid-sky, and I watched it +slip behind the horizon. The woman's head was high, and I knew that +she was thinking. It troubled me that she could think at such a time. + +"Mademoiselle"--I began. + +"Wait!" she interrupted. She raised her hand, and her fingers looked +carven white in the moonlight, though by daylight they were brown. +"Monsieur, you watched the star. It went into the unknown,--a way so +wide and terrible that we may not follow it even in thought. We live +alone with majestic forces,--forests greater than an empire, unmapped +waters, and strange, savage men. We are pygmies; yet, if we have +spirit we can grow into some measure of the greatness and inflexibility +around us. Monsieur, when you asked me--what you asked me now--you +were thinking of France and its standards. Of little, tidy, hedged-in +France. You were not---- Oh, monsieur, I am sorry you asked me that +question. Of course I answer 'no,' but--but I am sorry that you asked +it." + +I went to her. "You are cold. Come with me to the fire. Come. The +men are asleep by this time. Mademoiselle, your spirit is steel and +fire, but your body betrays you. You are shivering and afraid. +Yet---- Well, mademoiselle, pygmies or giants, whichever we may be, we +must not scorn counsel. You once called us partners. On that basis, +will you listen to me now?" + +"But you must not"---- + +"Mademoiselle, on that basis will you listen to me now?" + +"Yes." + +"Then come." I led her to the warmth, and placed her snugly, with logs +to pillow her and her face away from the sleeping men. Then I sat +beside her. But my speech had left me. I had no reasons, no +persuasions at my tongue. + +"Father Nouvel is at the islands," I said. "Mademoiselle, you must +marry me. You must." + +"Why 'must,' monsieur?" + +"We cannot travel in this way." + +"A week ago you thought it possible." + +"I had not tried it then. It will not do." + +"Monsieur, what has gone wrong?" + +I took out my hunting knife and tried its edge. + +"My mind," I answered savagely. "Mademoiselle, I may, as you say, have +tidy, circumscribed France behind my thought, but---- Well, +mademoiselle, I was brought up to certain observances in regard to a +woman. And I cannot forget you are a woman. When the men speak +roughly to you I put my hand on my sword." + +"I have seen you, monsieur." + +"And so I lose much thought and time conquering my anger. It fills my +thought. When I taught you Indian verbs the other day the rain dripped +from your hair. And I sat like a clod. What could I do? I could not +shelter you for fear of rousing suspicion in the men. Mademoiselle, I +cannot stand it. I must let the men know that you are a woman. And +then I must marry you when we reach Father Nouvel." + +She rose. "Monsieur, you must send me back to Montreal." + +I kept my seat. "Mademoiselle, I have your word," I reminded. "You +agreed to listen." + +I had meant to plead, not to rebuke, and I regretted that she flushed. +She seated herself lingeringly, but I saw that she leaned back, and did +not sit as she had done before with her muscles braced for flight. + +"Why not send me back to Montreal?" she begged. + +The embers of the fire fell into irregular, rectangular shapes like the +stone buildings on the Marne, where I was born. My father had beggared +us, but those buildings were left. I scorned my father's memory, but I +had strange pride in the name and place that had been his. + +"I have thought over this matter by night and day," I replied slowly. +"I cannot send you to Montreal, for I cannot trust these men. If I +take you myself I shall lose six weeks out of the summer. Then it will +be too late to accomplish anything. No, I cannot afford so much time. +The summer is all too short as it is." + +"You would marry me--marry me to get me out of the way--rather than +lose six weeks of time!" + +I rose. "Spare your scorn, mademoiselle. This is no joust of wits. I +would sell everything--except the honor of my sword--rather than lose +six weeks of time." + +"Then you have a mission?" + +"A self-sent one, mademoiselle." + +"But you can come again next year." + +"Next year will be too late." + +She threw out her hands. "Monsieur, try me. Let me travel with you as +a man. I will be a man. I will be Monsieur Starling in truth. Try me +once more." + +I took her hand. "Mademoiselle, mademoiselle," I said, "think a +moment. Would I force you to this marriage--would I suggest it +even--if it did not seem a necessity, a necessity for my own ends? For +I must have my head and hands clear. It is a selfish view. I know +that. It is crushingly selfish. But it is for a large purpose. I am +a small man fitted to a great undertaking, and I can permit no divided +interests. I need an unhampered mind." + +She walked a few steps. "And if I should travel with you as a woman +and yet not marry you," she asked over her shoulder, "what then?" + +I looked away. "I should be obliged to fight every man of my company +first, then every white man that we might meet. It would hardly leave +me with an unhampered mind, mademoiselle." + +She made no comment with word or eye, and going back to the place where +we had been sitting, she dropped upon the sand. I covered her +shoulders with the red blanket, and again sat beside her. I would be +silent till she chose to speak. After a time I went back into the +forest to search fresh fuel for our fire. + +When I returned with my arms laden, she turned her face toward me; her +sorrowful eyes looked as if she could never again know sleep or +forgetfulness. "I am a coward," she said, "yet I thought that +cowardice and my desire for life had both died together. I did not +draw back from the knives of the Indians, but now I am afraid of a +loveless marriage. We are young. We may live many years. Oh, +monsieur, I have not the courage!" + +I piled the wood on the fire and did not answer. I stirred the red +coals and marked how the flames slipped along the dried branches in +festoons of light. Pierre was snoring, and I kicked him till he rolled +over and swore in bastard French. Then I went to the woman. + +"You have won," I said, and I laughed a little,--a mean, harsh laugh, +my ears told me, not the laugh of a gentleman. "Mademoiselle, you have +won. We start toward Montreal tomorrow. Then marry--whom you will." + +She looked into my eyes. "Wait a moment;" she stopped. "Monsieur, how +much time have you spent in learning the Indian dialects and preparing +for this expedition?" + +"Two years." + +"And next year will indeed be too late?" + +I shrugged my shoulders. "We waste good hours," I suggested. +"Mademoiselle, may I say 'good-night'?" + +She stepped toward me. "Monsieur, do not spoil your courtesy," she +begged. "I asked you a question." + +I smiled at her. "The answer has lost pith and meaning. Yes, +mademoiselle, next year will indeed be too late." + +She put her hands before her eyes. "Then I will change my answer. +Monsieur, I will marry you when we reach Father Nouvel." + +But I would not reply. I walked to the beach where there were dark and +stars. I ground my heel into the pebbles, and I did not hear her +moccasined step behind me. She had to touch my arm. + +"I meant it, monsieur," she whispered. + +I raised her fingers, and laid them back against her side. "Why tempt +me?" I said rudely. "Happily for you my word is a man's word. We +start toward Montreal to-morrow." + +"Monsieur, I beg you. Go west to-morrow." + +"No, mademoiselle." + +"Then--then--monsieur, I give you warning. If we start toward Montreal +to-morrow I shall escape you at the first opportunity, and try my +fortune alone in the woods." + +"You threaten me?" + +She stood in front of me. "I would bring you to reason. Yes, I +threaten you, in that I shall do what I say. Come, monsieur, I will +follow you westward. Your years of preparation, your great +opportunity, shall not be wasted because of me." + +I took her hand. "You are a strange woman. A sage and a child; a +woman and a warrior. But I will not marry you, mademoiselle." + +"Why not, monsieur?" + +"Because I will not hoodwink you. So long as I took you blindly +against your will, I felt no shame at going about my own ends. But now +that you have turned the tables on me and come without force, I cannot +let you be a tool. I would not take you without telling you my +plans,--and then you would not come." + +"I know your plans, monsieur." + +"You know that I hunt beaver." + +"I know that you hunt men. Monsieur, are all the women of your nation +puppets, that you should think me blind? Listen. You plan a coalition +of the western tribes. La Salle's plan--with changes. You hope to +make yourself a dictator, chief of a league of red men that shall +control this western water-way. Is not this so, monsieur?" + +"I---- Yes, mademoiselle." + +"You intend to form your league this summer and advance upon the +Iroquois in the autumn before the ice locks the lakes. You are in +haste, for if you delay another twelvemonth you are convinced that the +Iroquois will make a treaty with the Hurons at Michillimackinac, +massacre your garrison there, cow the western tribes, and so wrest this +country from the French. Is not this so, monsieur?" + +"Yes, mademoiselle." + +"You see that I understand all this, monsieur. Yet, I will go with +you." + +I did not stir. "You are acute. Yet there is one point in my plan +that you did not mention," I said dully. + +She turned away. "I hoped to spare us both," she returned in a tone as +lifeless as my own. "Yet, if you wish words, take them. Monsieur, the +Iroquois are allies of the English. Your warfare with them is but a +step in pursuit of larger game. In founding an empire for your own +land you would take one away from mine. You hope in the end to crush +the English on this continent. Have I stated you correctly, monsieur?" + +I bowed. + +She laughed--a laugh more bitter than my own had been. "I am indeed +the plaything of Fate," she said a little wildly. "But I will marry +you. You saved my life. Yes, more. You threw your career into the +balance for an unknown man, your foe. You jeopardized all that you +hoped for, and you never whined nor lost sleep. You are a superb +gamester, monsieur." + +I smiled. "Not enough of a gamester to accept your sacrifice, +mademoiselle." + +She clenched her hands. "I will marry you," she retorted. "You shall +follow out your purpose. Though, after all, you cannot succeed. Who +are you? A dreamer, a soldier of fortune, a man without place or +following. You think slowly, and your heart rules your head. How can +you hope to wrest an empire from--from us? You cannot do it. You +cannot. But you shall have your chance. You gave me mine and you +shall have yours. We go west. Otherwise--I have warned you, monsieur." + +I seized her wrist, and made her meet my look. "That is a coward's +threat," I said contemptuously. + +I could not daunt her. "I mean it. I mean it, monsieur," she repeated +quietly. + +I stood and looked at her. "You have a man's equity," I said. "You +are determined to give me my chance. Well, I will take it,--and +remember that you gave it to me. But, would you have me in any way +weaken my purpose, mademoiselle?" + +She looked up with a flash of anger. "Am I a child or an intriguing +woman? No, no. Do your best, or your worst, or I shall despise you +for your weakness. I have told you that I have scant hopes for your +success, monsieur." + +What could I say? I stood before her awkwardly. "Mademoiselle, may I +tell you something of myself and my people? You should know what sort +of name you are to bear." + +But she pressed her hands outward. "No, no!" she cried. "Why tell +me?" Then she sobered. "I know that you are brave and kind," she +said, with her eyes down. "Beyond that--I do not think that I am +interested, monsieur." + +I felt angered. "You should be interested," I said bluntly. "Well, +the night is slipping away. Let me lead you to the fire and bid you +good-night." + +Her finger tips met mine as we walked back together, but the touch was +as remote as the brushing of the pine boughs on my cheek. Yet when I +would have handed her her blanket and turned away, she detained me. +"Sit with me a little longer, monsieur," she begged. "I--I think I am +afraid of the woods to-night. Let us sit here a while." + +I could not grasp her mood, but there was nothing for me but to yield +to it. I made her as comfortable as possible, and saw that the fire +was kept alight; then I sat near her. I was tired, but time went +swiftly. My mind would not have given my body rest, even had I lain +down. + +In time the woman leaned toward me. "There is--there is no woman who +will suffer from this?" she asked slowly. + +I stirred the fire. "I have no wife, mademoiselle." + +"I did not mean that. There is no woman who--who cares for you?" + +"Not to my knowledge." + +"And you--and you, monsieur? There is no one whom you are giving up?" + +I answered slowly. "Mademoiselle," I said, "you are a strangely wise +woman. You know the value of reticence,--something few women seem to +know. We have talked of many things, of ambition, of justice, of +generosity, but never, never of love. Are you wise to open the past in +that one matter? I have asked you no questions." + +She hid her face in her hands. "But I will tell you. I was betrothed +to my cousin,--to Benjamin Starling. I would not marry him now, I +would not marry him now to save him from the rack. I have nothing more +to tell you, monsieur." + +I let the moments slip. The east was brightening, and in an hour it +would be dawn. I knew we needed rest. I rose, and, standing behind +the woman, bent over her. + +"Mademoiselle Starling," I whispered, "tomorrow, at this time, you will +be Madame Montlivet." She did not stir, and I laid my hand on her +shoulder where it rose slim and sinewy as a boy's from the low neck of +her squaw's dress. I bent lower. "You strange woman," I went on, +marveling at her calm. "You strange woman, with the justice of a man +and the tempers of a child. Have you a woman's heart, I wonder? I do +not talk to you of love, but it may be that it will come to us. I will +try to be good to you, Mary Starling. Carry that promise with you when +I say good-night." + +And then she trembled. "Wait, wait, monsieur! There is one word +first. I have tried--I have tried to say it." + +I knelt beside her. "What would you say to me, mademoiselle?" + +But she turned away. "Monsieur, monsieur! I will marry you, yes. But +it is to save your hopes,--your future. We have--we have no love. +Monsieur, will you not hold me as your guest, your sister? It is I who +would kneel to you, monsieur." + +I pushed her down. "Sit still," I commanded. I turned my back to her, +for I had no speech. She did not plead, but I could feel her tremble. +I forced words out of me. + +"You are a Protestant?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +I picked up the corner of her blanket. "I am a Catholic," I said, +drawing away the woolen folds that I might look at her. "In our church +marriage is a sacrament, mademoiselle." + +She lifted her great eyes. "Monsieur, our marriage will be no +sacrament. It will be a political contract. A marriage--a marriage of +convenience--in name only---- Surely when we reach home it can be +annulled. Must I--must I beg of you, monsieur?" + +I rose and looked down at her. "A strange woman of a strange race," I +said. "No, you need not beg of me. I have never had a captive in my +life,--not even a bird. Mademoiselle, you shall bear my name, if you +are willing, for your protection, but you shall go as my guest to +Montreal." And I left her in her red blanket and went away. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +WE REACH THE ISLANDS + +The dawn came with an uprush of unclouded light showing burnished green +leaves and dancing water. I bowed my head to the woman's hand to bid +her good-morning, and I served her with meal cakes and sweet water from +a maple tree. I was reckless of Pierre's eyes, though I knew them to +be weasel sharp for certain sides of life. The woman answered me but +scantily, and when we were embarked sat quiet in the bottom of the +canoe. I forbore to look at her. + +The men feared my mood that day, so paddled well. I charged them not +to speak nor sing, for I would have no wasted breath, and the sombre +shore, pine and tamarack and savage rock, passed before us like +pictures dropping from a roll. Toward sunset I sighted a canoe full of +warriors, and when we drew near I saw that they were Pottawatamies. + +"Are we near your islands?" I hailed. + +The men bowed toward the southwest. "The space of the star rising, and +you will reach them if you travel," spoke the tallest. "You ride fast. +I have seen you come like the white squall on the water." + +I called again. "Does Father Nouvel tarry with you?" I cried. + +I thought that they looked at the maid in the canoe. "He tarries," +they answered. + +I gave the signal and we slipped away. "To the shore," I commanded, +and the two canoes took new vigor. The men, like stall-fed beasts, +spurred themselves by the prospect of eating and idleness, and we were +soon at the beach. I bent over the woman. + +"Be prepared," I whispered. "I must tell the men. If I play the clown +it is but to impress them, mademoiselle." + +She met my glance with a look of entire understanding, and rising gave +me her finger tips and stepped from the canoe. I do not know how she +turned all in one instant from a sun-burned stripling to a great lady, +but that was what occurred. The men, stretching themselves as they +stepped to the shore, stopped and stared. I saw that I must speak +quickly. + +"Let the canoes alone," I said. "We will stop here but a moment. +Go--all of you--and gather green twigs and young ferns, and flowers if +you can find them. Then bring them to me here. Go." + +The men stood as jointless as tin images. But I saw that they were not +only dumfounded but afraid, so I laid my hand on my sword, to give them +better cause for their stupefaction. "Go!" I shouted again, and so +perverse is my nature that, though I knew well I had no cause for +merriment, I swallowed hard to keep back a smile. + +The woman and I stood alone while the men jerked their way like +automatons from bush to tree. The chaos of their minds had numbed +their muscles, and they stripped the young boughs clumsily like a herd +of browsing moose. I did not look at the woman. I knew that she +needed all my courtesy, but it was hard to speak to her just then. + +The men wandered for perhaps five minutes, then ranged themselves +before me. They bore a curious collection of grasses, mutilated +tamarack boughs, and crushed brakes. They eyed my sword hilt, and +looked ready for flight. Yet I was master, and they remembered it. +Had I ordered them to eat the fodder that they bore, they would not +have spoken, and I think that they would have endeavored to obey. + +I pointed to the canoe where the woman was accustomed to sit. "Place +the greens there," I said. "Make a carpet of them where the red +blanket is lying. Work quickly,--then come here. No talking." + +They obeyed. They dressed the canoe like a river barge on a fête day, +and again they lined themselves before me. I took the woman by the +hand. + +"You have decked the canoe for my wedding journey," I said, and all my +perverse inner merriment suddenly died. "This traveler, whom you have +known as a man, is Mademoiselle Marie Starling and my promised wife. +We are to be married when we reach the Pottawatamie Islands. She is +your future mistress, and you may come and touch her hand and swear to +serve her as faithfully as you have served me. Pierre, you may come +first." + +A man who has seen battle knows that the pang of a bullet can clear +even a peasant's clogged brain. The churls took this blow in silence +and tried to make something out of it. What they made I could not +fathom, but it lifted them out of themselves, for after a moment they +raised their eyes and came forward like men. I had never seen them in +an equal guise; I could have grasped them by the hand had it been wise. + +The woman extended her palm to them, and gave them each a word as they +passed in review. She was gracious, she was smiling, yet somehow she +was negligent. I was not prepared that she should be used to homage. +Perhaps I had thought that this bit of vassalage would give her +pleasure. She treated it like an old tale. + +"Enough," I ordered. "Pierre, you may draw a portion of brandy all +around and drink to the health of your mistress. Then we shall get +under way." + +Pierre's portions were always ample, and the western red was dulling by +the time we were again afloat. I did not paddle, but seated myself +beside the woman on the crushed leaves and watched in inactivity and +silence while the starlight came. As the dusk deepened we slipped by +strange islands, but I held the canoes straight in advance till a +limestone headland rose white out of the blurred, violet water. The +star shine showed a deep bay and wavering lights among the trees. I +touched the woman's shoulder. + +"The largest of the Pottawatamie Islands," I explained. "I have had +maps. Pray God we may find what we seek." + +The canoes bumped and slid upward on the sand, and I left the men on +guard, and taking the woman's hand led her toward the lights. A rabble +of dogs trooped upon us and gave tongue, and black shapes, arrow-laden, +clustered out of the wigwams. + +"Peca," I cried, in greeting, and again, "Where is your chief? Where +is Onanguissé?" + +A French voice answered, "Who calls?" The mat that hung before the +entrance of the nearest lodge was pulled aside, and smoke and red light +flared out of the opening. I saw the black robe of a priest! + +"Father Nouvel, Father Nouvel!" I cried like a schoolboy. "You are +indeed here!" + +The priest stooped to pass through the skin-draped opening, and came +peering into the starlight. + +"Who calls Father Nouvel?" he demanded in a mellow voice, rich in +intonations. "What, an Indian woman, monsieur! Who are you? What +means this?" + +I led the woman forward. "Father Nouvel, this is Mademoiselle +Starling, an Englishwoman who was captured by the Indians. We have +traveled fast and far to find you. Can you marry us at once?" + +It was badly done. I had jumbled my speech without wit or address, +like a peasant dragging his milkmaid before the village curé. The +woman may have felt my clumsiness. She dropped my hand, and curtsied +deeply to the father, and he, staring, checked the hand that he had +raised to extend to her, and bowed deeply in turn. It was a meeting, +not of priest and refugee, but of a man and woman who had known the +world. Father Nouvel was very old and his skin was wrinkled ivory, but +at this moment he wore his cassock as if it were a doublet slashed with +gold. His command was an entreaty. + +"Come nearer, daughter. I wish to see your face." + +She followed him close to the flaring light that poured from the +wigwam, and he looked at her as unsparingly as if she were a portrait +of paint and oil. + +"I have never seen you," he decided. "Yet the name Starling,--it is +unusual, and it brings troubling memories to my mind." + +The woman deliberated a moment. She was indeed a woman with wit that +did not need mine, and I felt it to be so, and I stood at one side, and +thought out my own conclusions. She looked up. "At Meudon?" she +suggested to the priest. + +He smote his palms together. "I am old," he mourned. "Else I could +never have forgotten. At Meudon, of course. It was at a meeting of +Jacobites. An exile named Starling--he was a commanding man, my +daughter--was their leader. How did you know?" + +She stood there in her Indian dress of skins with a forest around her +and talked of courts. + +"I remembered that you were in Paris three years ago," she explained, +"and that our king--yes, our king, Father Nouvel, although a king in +exile--talked sometimes with you. There was often one of your order at +the meetings at Meudon." + +The father looked at her. "I could almost think that age and +loneliness have undone my mind," he said slowly. "You talk of kings +and courtiers. Who are you?" + +I waited, perhaps more eagerly than the priest himself, for her reply. +None came. I thought she gave a flitting look toward me, and so I +shrugged my shoulders and thrust myself again into the priest's thought. + +"If we were kings, courtiers, and Jacobites all in one," I said as +airily as might be in view of my aching muscles, "the titles would yet +clink dully as leaden coins, travel-worn as we are. Can you marry us +this evening, Father Nouvel?" + +He looked at me keenly, not altogether pleased. "And you are"--he +asked. + +"Armand de Montlivet, from Montreal." + +He relaxed somewhat. "I have heard of you. No, I cannot marry you +to-night. I will find a lodge for this demoiselle, and we will talk of +this to-morrow. Come now and let me bring you to the chief," and with +a beckoning of the hand he led the way into the lodge behind him. + +We followed closely. The lodge was large, and was roofed and floored +with rush mats. The smoke hung in a cloud over our heads, but the air +around us was sufficiently clear for us to see,--though with some +rubbing of the eyes. An aged Indian sat close to the blaze, and Father +Nouvel walked over to him. + +"Onanguissé," he said, "two strangers lift the mat before your +door,--strangers with white faces. Do you bid them take broth and +shelter?" + +The old chief nodded. He had lacked curiosity to look out at us while +we had stood talking before his door, and now he scarcely lifted his +eyes. + +"Is the Huron with them?" he asked the priest. + +I pushed forward. "What Huron?" I demanded, in the Pottawatamie speech. + +The chief stirred somewhat at hearing me use his language. "A Huron is +in the woods," he said indifferently. "Every one must live, thieves as +well as others, but I do not like it that he stole our squashes. When +a Huron comes, you will soon see the French." + +I would have asked questions, for I craved more news, but before the +words could form, since I am slow, the woman spoke. + +"Nadouk!" she exclaimed. "I understand that word. It means Huron. +Are the Hurons pursuing us?" + +Her woman's voice echoed oddly in that smoke-grimed place. Onanguissé +looked up. I have lived among Indians, and know some sides of their +nature, but I am never prepared for what they may do. The old chief +stared and then rose. "A white thrush!" he said, and he looked at +Father Nouvel for explanation. + +"They come to be married," the priest hastened. "Have you an empty +lodge for the maiden?" + +Onanguissé listened, then walked to the woman, and looked at her as he +would study a blurred trail in the forest. She bore his scrutiny well, +and he grunted approval. Now that he had risen he was impressive. He +was tall, and had that curious, loose-jointed suppleness that, I have +heard women say, comes only from gentle blood. As he stood beside +Father Nouvel it came to me that the two men were somewhat kin. One +face was patrician and the other savage, but they were both old men who +bore their years with wisdom and kept the salt of humor close at hand. +The chief turned to me. + +"To marry? It is the moon of flowers, and the birds are mating. It is +well. The white thrush shall sleep in my lodge to-night. I will go +elsewhere. Come," and pointing to the door, he would have driven the +priest and myself outside without more words. + +I glanced around. The lodge was unexpectedly neat, and though I +dreaded to leave the woman in the smoke, I knew it was unwise to +protest. Would she be willing to stay? She was often ruled by +impulse, and it would be like her to clamor for the clean starlight. I +told her, in short phrase, what the chief had said. "And I beg you to +show as little repugnance as possible," I added. + +She listened without showing me her eyes,--which were always the only +index I had to what was in her mind. + +"Thank the chief for his hospitality," she rejoined, and she looked +toward Onanguissé, and bowed with a pretty gesture of acceptance. Then +she walked over to me. + +"When you thought me a man," she said hurriedly, and in a tone so low +that only I could hear, "you trusted somewhat to my judgment,--even +though you saw me fail. When you found me a woman, you trusted less, +and since--since you arranged to marry me, you have assumed that I +would fail you at every turn. Ours is a crooked road, monsieur, and +there are many turns ahead. If you burden your mind so heavily with me +you cannot attend to what is your real concern. Trust me more. Think +less about me. I will show no irritation, no initiative, and I will +follow where you point. I should like to think that you would rest +to-night,--rest care free. I wish you good-night, monsieur." + +She had spoken with a hurry of low-toned words that left me no opening, +and now she turned away before my tongue was ready to serve my mind. +She bowed us to the door, and the rush mat fell between us. I watched +the old chief stalk away and wondered what was in his mind. + +"Is this the first white woman he has seen?" I asked the priest. + +Father Nouvel smiled reflectively at the retreating back. "Oh, no," he +replied. "He has been in Quebec. He is the chief you must have heard +quoted, who vaunted that God had made three great men,--La Salle, +Frontenac, and himself. He is a crafty man and able. You see that he +never squanders strength nor words. No, monsieur, you must not follow +me." He stopped to lay a hand on my shoulder. "Take heed, my son. Ox +that you look to be for endurance, there are yet lines under your eyes. +I will not talk to you to-night. Sleep well. I take it for granted +that you prefer to sleep as I do, under the stars." And putting out +his thin, ivory hand in blessing, he went away. + +But I was not ready for sleep. I went to the canoes, sent the men to +rest, and found food which I carried to the woman, and left, with a +whispered word, outside her door. Then I ate some parched corn, and +lighting my pipe, lay down to take counsel of what had befallen me. I +lay at some distance from the woman's lodge, but not so far but that I +could see the rush mat that hung before it. The Indians watched me, +but kept at a distance. I saw that Onanguissé had given commands. + +I had so much to work out in my mind that I thought sleep would come +slowly, but I remember nothing from the moment when I bolstered my head +in my arms till I found the moon shining in my face. It had been +starlight when I went to sleep, I remembered, and I raised my eyelids +warily. A wild life teaches the dullest to know when he has been +wakened by some one watching him. And I knew it now. + +The world was white light and thick shadow. Wigwams, dogs, stumps, +trees, sleeping Indians, I counted them in turn. Then I saw more. A +pine tree near me had too thick a trunk. That was what I had expected. +I let my eyes travel cautiously upward till they met the shining points +of eyes watching me. + +I lay and looked, and the eyes looked in return. I did not dare glance +away and the Indian would not, so we stared like basilisks. It was not +an heroic position, and having a white man's love for open action, I +had to argue with myself to keep from letting my sword whistle. But +fighting with savages is not open nor heroic. It is tedious, oblique, +often uninteresting, and frequently fatal. I was unwilling to lose my +head just then. So I lay still. If this were the Huron, he was +probably merely reconnoitring, as I had reason to believe he had done +several times before. His game interested me, for he seemed to work +unnecessarily hard for meagre returns, and Indians are seldom +spendthrifts of endeavor. I could accomplish nothing by capturing him, +for I should learn nothing. There was ostensible peace between the +Huron nation and myself. I would let him work out his plans till he +did something that I could lay hold of. Yet I would not look away. I +had grown very curious to see his face. + +I do not know how it would have ended, or whether dawn would have found +us still staring like barnyard cats, for chance, and a dog, suddenly +settled the matter. The dog, a forlorn, flea-driven cur, snuffed the +fresh trail, followed it to the tree, and snarled out a shout of +protest. He snarled but once. The Indian drew his knife, stooped, and +I heard the sound of tearing hide and spouting blood. It was only a +dog, but I cursed myself for not having been quicker. + +And so I sat up. I was forced to shift my eyes for an instant in order +to pick up my musket, which, secure in a friendly camp, I had dropped +at a careless arm's length from me on the ground. When I looked again +the Indian was gone. I went to the tree. The Indian had had but an +instant, but he had secured himself out of reach of my eyesight; had +faded into the background as a partridge screens itself behind mottled +leaves. If I followed him, a knife would be slipped out at me from +behind stump or tree trunk, and the dog might not have burial alone. + +I went to the dog and stirred him with my sword point. He was a +noisome heap, but I knew that I must overcome my repugnance and bury +him, or I should have to explain the whole tale to the camp at dawn. +And explanation would take time and was not necessary. The Huron was +following me, and had no quarrel with the Pottawatamies. When I +departed on the morrow he would undoubtedly retie his sandals and +continue the voyage. A wife and a ghost! Two traveling guests I had +not reckoned with in planning this expedition. I shrugged, and stooped +to spit the dog upon my sword, when I saw a skin pouch lying +blood-bathed at the creature's side. It was a bag such as savages wear +around their necks, and the Indian had probably let it fall when he +stooped to kill the dog. + +I seized it, careless of the smearing of my fingers, and took it to the +moonlight. It was made of the softest of dressed doeskin, and +embroidered in red porcupine quills with the figure of a beaver +squatting on a rounded lodge. I had seen that design before. It was +the totem sign of the house of the Baron, and this bag had hung from +Pemaou's neck that day when he danced between me and the sunset and +flung the war spear at my heart. + +I felt myself grow keenly awake and alive. So it was Pemaou who was +following. Well, I had told him that we should meet again. I untied +the strings of the bag and turned its contents into my handkerchief. +There was an amulet in the form of a beaver's paw, a twist of tobacco, +a flint, a tin looking-glass, and a folded sheet of birch bark. I +stopped a moment. Should I look further? It was wartime and I was +dealing with a savage. I unfolded the bark and pressed it open in my +palm. There, boldly drawn in crayon, was a head in profile; it was the +profile of the woman who lay in the lodge, and whose mat-hung door I +was guarding. Yes, it was her profile, and it was one that no man +could forget, though when I speak of a straight nose and an oddly +rounded chin, they are but words to fit a thousand faces. + +I refolded the bark, put it in my pocket, and buried the dog. Then I +sat down before the woman's wigwam. I had one point to work on in my +speculations. No Indian would draw a head in profile, for he would be +superstitious about creating half of a person. I slept no more that +night. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A PROVISIONAL BARGAIN + +I began my day as early as I thought it wise to disturb the sleepers +around me, and by the time the sun was two hours high I had +accomplished several things. I had confessed to the priest, had had a +clean lodge of green boughs built for the woman, and had bargained and +bantered with the Indians, and blustered over them with knowledge of +their language till they accorded me reluctant grins. They had a +village of seven or eight hundred souls, and I found them a marked +people. They were cleaner than any savages I had seen,--the women were +modest and almost neat,--and their manners had a somewhat European air. +I judged them to be politicians rather than warriors, for the braves, +though well shaped and wiry, lacked the look of ferocious hardihood +that terrified white men in the Iroquois race. But I found them keen +traders. + +One purchase that I made took time. I wished a new suit of skins for +the woman, and I went from lodge to lodge, searching and brow-beating +and dangling my trinkets till I was ready to join with the squaws in +their laughter at my expense. But my purchase once completed pleasured +me greatly. I had found it a little here and a little there, and it +was worthy any princess of the woods. I had gathered blouse, skirt, +leggings, and moccasins, all new, and made of white dressed deerskin +pliable as velvet to the hand. They looked to me full of feminine +bravery. The leggings and moccasins were beaded and quill broidered, +and the skirt was fringed and trimmed with tiny hawk's bells. + +I took the garments to the green lodge, laid them out in order, saw +that there were trenchers of fresh water, and brought what conveniences +we had from the canoe. The pity of the situation came upon me hard. I +had to be father and friend,--lover I could not be. The woman had +great self-control, but she would need it. Well, I could trust her to +do her best. I went to find her. + +As yet I had not said good-morning to her, although I had seen her from +the distance, and knew that she had breakfasted and had talked with +Father Nouvel. She was sitting now under a beech tree on the headland, +and when I bent before her she shook her head. + +"It is not real," she said, with a look over water and forest. "It is +all a dream." + +I stopped to send a group of curious squaws upon their way. It was +indeed like a pictured spectacle,--the green wood, the Indian village, +and the headland-guarded bay opening northward over rolling water. + +"Yes, it is a dream," I agreed. "You will soon wake. Where would you +like the wakening to take place, mademoiselle? At Meudon?" + +She looked up with a smile. "What would you like to know about me?" +she asked, with a sober directness, which, like her smile, was friendly +and brave. "You heard something last night. I am entirely willing to +tell you more. But is it not wise for us to know as little as possible +about each other?" + +"Why, mademoiselle?" + +She hesitated. "As we stand now," she explained slowly, "we have no +past nor future. We live in a fantasy. We are cold and hungry, but +life is so strange that we forget our bodies. It is all as unreal as a +mirage. When it is over, we part. If we part knowing nothing of each +other, it will all seem like a dream." + +I thought a moment. "Then you think that we must guard against growing +interested in each other, mademoiselle?" + +She looked at me gravely. "Yes. Do you not think so, monsieur? +'Friends for the night's bivouac.' Those were your words." + +Now was here a woman who felt deeply and talked lightly? I had not met +such. "It is wise," I rejoined, "but difficult." I took the crayon +from my pocket and began drawing faces on the white limestone rock at +my side. I drew idly and scowled at my work. "The Indians can do +better," I lamented. "Was your cousin, Benjamin Starling, clever with +his pencil, mademoiselle?" + +She drew back, but she answered me fairly. "Very clever," she said +quietly. "It was a talent. Why do you ask, monsieur?" + +"I find myself thinking of him." I dropped the crayon. "Listen, +mademoiselle. I must ask you some questions. Believe me, I have +reasons. Now as to your cousin,--is he alive?" + +She looked off at the water. "I do not know, monsieur." + +She had become another woman. I hated Benjamin Starling that his name +could so instantly sap the life from her tone. + +"Please look at me," I begged irritably. "Mademoiselle, I think that I +must ask you to tell me more,--to tell me much more." + +She rose. "Is it necessary?" + +I bowed. "Else I should not ask it. Please sit, mademoiselle." + +She sat where my hand pointed. "You know that we were Tories," she +began, in the quiet monotone I had learned to expect from her under +stress, "and that our family followed King James to France. My parents +died. I had no brothers or sisters, and so, a year ago, I came to the +Colonies where I had friends. Later, my cousin followed, and we were +betrothed. We had the same cause at heart, and our joint estates would +give us some power. We planned to use them for that purpose." + +"And your capture? Did your cousin know of it?" + +"Monsieur, you say that this is necessary? My nurse had come to +America, and married a settler, in a village on the frontier. She was +ill, and I went to see her, and stayed some days. My cousin followed, +and stayed at a neighboring house. One night the Indians came. The +woman's husband was away, and the little maid-servant ran at the first +outcry. I was alone with the woman, who could not leave her bed. I +cut my hair roughly, put on a suit of her husband's clothing, and took +a musket. It was a blockhouse, and I hoped that I might hold the +Indians off for a time if they thought me a man." + +"And your cousin?" + +"He came to me. He was running. He said it was of no use. He had +seen men brained. There were legions of Indians. He said there was +nothing left but flight. He tried to take me with him." + +"And when you would not go? When you would not desert?" + +"Monsieur, he went alone." + +I laid myself down on the grass before her, and covered her hands with +mine. "I am not quite a brute," I said. "I had to ask it. Look, +look, mademoiselle, it is all over. See, the sky is gentle, and the +Indians are friendly, and my sword---- Well, I will not leave you, +mademoiselle, until you tell me to go. But I must say more. Your +cousin---- Is he Lord Starling?" + +"Yes." + +"Lord Starling is probably alive. If he is, he is searching for you. +Have you thought of that?" + +"But the wilderness,--the terrible leagues of wilderness! He could not +track me, monsieur." + +"When there is money and influence, even the wilderness has messengers. +He was close to the person of James. Is he a Catholic?" + +"He professed it, monsieur." + +I shook my head. "You are very bitter. You need not be. He was +insane that night. I have known the sight of Indian butchery to turn +good men into whimpering animals. He was not responsible. I know that +he is lavishing time and fortune and strength to find you now." + +I thought she winced. "You know this, monsieur?" + +It was my turn to look away. "I know something of a man's heart," I +answered deliberately. "If I loved you, mademoiselle, and lost +you--lost you, and played the craven,--I should find you. The +wilderness would not matter. I should find you. I should find you, +and retrieve myself--some way. Lord Starling has wit and daring, else +he would not be an exile, else you would not have promised to marry +him. Be assured that he is following you, and is probably not far +behind. Do you want him to find you, mademoiselle?" + +I turned with the last word, and looked her full in the face. It was a +stupid trick, but it served. I had her answer. + +"There!" I cried, and I laughed a little jerkily. "Never mind. Don't +answer. We have talked enough, mademoiselle. We will be married at +noon to-day. Ah, you never loved him, else, no matter what he had +done, you could never look as you look now. Wherever he is, or +whatever kind of man he may be, I do him no wrong in giving you my name +to-day." I took the pictured birch bark from my pocket, and tore it in +fine strips. "A useless map," I said in explanation. "Mademoiselle, +may I have your finger to measure?" + +She gave me her hand, and I circled her finger with a grass blade, and +warned her that the ring that I should give her would be almost as +crude. She was trying to keep herself from asking questions, and was +going to succeed. I liked that. It was useless to terrify her with +fables of prowling Indians, and profiles on bark. And then, what was +there to tell? I knew at once too much and too little. I took some +bent gold wire from my pocket, and showed it to her. + +"I am going to plait it into a braid for the ring," I said. "I think +that I can file the ends, and make it serve. It is all I have. I wear +no jewelry, and would not give you one of the brass rings we use in +trade. This is at least gold." + +She watched me straighten the kinks in the wire. "You took that from +something you valued," she said. "I will wear the brass ring. Surely +you can replace this wire where it belongs." + +I shook my head. "It was a filigree frame," I volunteered. + +I had spoken with as little thought as a dog barks, and quite as +witlessly. I knew that as soon as I heard my words. I looked at the +woman. But she was not going to question me. + +"If it was a frame, it held a miniature," she said quietly. "Please +twist the wire around it again. I prefer the brass ring." + +"Because?" + +"I would not rob any one. If you have carried the picture all these +leagues, it is a token from some one you love; some one who loves you. +I have no part in that." + +I went on plaiting the wire. "The woman of the miniature will know no +robbery," I said, "because she knew no possession. Mademoiselle, you +seem in every way to be a woman with whom it is wisest to have a clear +understanding." + +"You need tell me nothing." + +"It is better to tell the whole, now that you have stumbled on a part. +I was nothing to that woman whose face I carried with me. She did not +know I had the picture. I might never have told her. It was nothing, +you see. It was all in a man's mind, and the man now has sterner +matters to fill his thought. I would like you to wear this ring." + +"Why not the other?" + +I laughed at her a little. "I shall try not to give you spurious +metal,--even granted that our bargain is provisional. Now, +mademoiselle, may I take you to the lodge I have had made? In two +hours we are to be married." + +She followed at my side, and I took her to the lodge, and pointed her +within. She glanced at what I had done, and I saw her bite her lip. +She turned to me without a smile. + +"It all makes it harder," she said indefinitely. "Harder to think of +the wrong that I am doing you and the other woman." + +I cannot abide misapprehension. We were alone. "Wait!" I begged. +"Mademoiselle, you cannot probe a man's thought. Often he cannot probe +his own. But I am not unhappy. A man marries many brides, and +Ambition, if the truth be told, is, perhaps, the dearest. I shall +embrace her. You should be able to understand." + +"But the woman. She must have seen that you loved her. She may have +cared more in return than you knew." + +I looked at her. "The lady of the miniature," I said slowly, "had many +lovers. If she showed me special favor, I assure you I did not know. +But even if her fancy did stray toward me,--which I think it did +not,--why, she was---- She was a winsome, softly smiling, gentle lady, +mademoiselle. She was not fire, and spirit, and courage, and loyalty, +and temper, and tenderness. No, she was not in the least like that. I +think that she would soon forget. Have we dropped this subject +forever, mademoiselle?" + +She made me a grave curtsy. "Till we reach Montreal," she promised, +and she did not raise her eyes. + +We were married at noon. The altar stood under an oak tree, and the +light sifted in patterns on the ground. I wore satin, and ribbon, and +shining buckle, for I carried those gewgaws in my cargo, but my finery +did not shame my bride's attire. She stood proud, and rounded, and +supple in her deerskins, and a man might have gloried in her. Seven +hundred Indians, glistening like snakes with oil and vermilion, +squatted around us, but they held themselves as lifeless as +marionettes. It was so still that I heard the snore of a sleeping dog +and the gulls in the harbor squawking over a floating fish. Father +Nouvel spoke very slowly. This was a real marriage, a sacrament, to +him. + +As we turned from the ceremony, Onanguissé came forward. He was not +painted, but he wore a mantle of embroidered buffalo skin, and his +hair, which was dressed high with eagle's feathers, was powdered with +down from the breasts of white gulls. He stood in front of the woman. + +"Listen," he said. "I speak to the white thrush. She cannot +understand my words, but her heart has called to my heart, and that +will teach her to know my meaning. Brethren, bear witness. An eagle +cares naught for a partridge, but an eagle calls to an eagle though +there be much water and many high rocks between. You know the lodge of +Onanguissé. It has fire, but no warmth. I am old, and age needs love +to warm it, but I am alone. First my wife, then my two sons, last of +all, at the time the chestnuts were in blossom, my daughter Mimi,--the +Master of Life called them one by one. I have washed my face, and I +have combed my hair, yet who can say I have not mourned? My life has +been as dead as the dried grass that thatches the muskrat's lodges. +When have any of you seen Onanguissé smile? Yet think not that I +stretch out my hands to the country of souls. I will live, and sit at +the council fire till many of you who are before me have evaporated +like smoke from a pipe. For I am of the race of the bear, and the bear +never yields while one drop of blood is left. And the Master of Life +has been kind. He has brought me at last a woman who has an eagle's +eyesight and a bear's endurance. She is worthy to be of my family. I +have waited for such an one. Her speech is strange, but her blood +answers mine. It is idle to mourn. I will replace the dead with the +living. This woman shall be no more the white thrush. She shall be +Mimi, the turtle dove, the daughter of Onanguissé. Brethren, bear +witness. Mimi is no longer dead. She stands here." He stepped closer +to the woman. "I give you this cloak that you may wrap me in your +memory," he went on. "I hereby confirm my words;" and thereupon, he +threw over her shoulders a long, shining mantle made of the small skins +of the white hare. It was a robe for an empress. + +I stepped forward, then stood still, and resolved to trust the woman as +she had asked. + +"You are adopted," I prompted softly, with no motion of my lips. + +She understood. Wrapped in her white cloak, she curtsied low before +Onanguissé. Then she turned to me. "Tell him," she said, "that my +heart is wiser than my tongue; the one is dumb, but the other answers. +Say to him that I see his face, and it tells me that he has lived +wisely and with honor. I am now of his family. I, too, will strive to +live wisely, that he need not be shamed. Say to him that I will not +forget." She stopped with her glance upon the old chief, and her eyes +held something I had not seen in them before. With me, their +self-reliance had sometimes been hard, almost provocative, as if the +spirit behind them defied the world to break it down. But as she met +this kindness--this kindness that was instinctive, and not a matter of +prudence or reason--all hardness vanished, and her dignity was almost +wistful. I thought of my mother, the saddened head of a great house, +who had seen the ruin of home and heart, but whose spirit would not +die. Something in this woman's face, as she stood silent, suddenly +gave me back the vision of my mother as I had seen her last. I looked +with my heart beating hard. The hush lasted fully a moment, then the +woman drew her cloak closer, curtsied again, and walked back to her +green lodge. + +I turned to the chief, and would have translated what had been said, +but after the first phrase, he motioned me to silence. "She has taken +my robe. She has become of my family. That is sufficient." He lifted +his calumet, and went to give orders for the feasting. + +So the priest and I stood alone. He looked at me, and shook his head. +His mouth was smiling, but I saw him brush at his eyes. "You have +married a woman of great spirit, monsieur," he said, with a touch of +his hand on my sleeve. "They are rare,--most rare." He stopped. "Yet +the roedeer is not made for the paddock," he said impersonally. + +I laughed, and it sounded exultant. I felt the blood hammer in my +temples. "Nor can the thrush be tamed to sit the finger like the +parrakeet," I completed. "I understand that, Father Nouvel." + +The wedding feast followed. Madame de Montlivet, the priest, +Onanguissé, and I sat in a semicircle on the ground, and slaves served +us with wooden trenchers of food. We each had our separate service, +like monks in a refectory, but we were not treated with equal state, +for the woman drank from a copper-trimmed ladle, made from the polished +skull of a buffalo, while my cup was a dried gourd. We ate in +ceremonial silence, and were sunk in our own thoughts. There was food +till the stomach sickened at its gross abundance: whitefish, broth, +sagamité, the feet of a bear, the roasted tail of a beaver. I watched +the slaves bring the food and bear it away, and I said to myself that I +was sitting at my wedding feast,--a feast to celebrate a false marriage. + +After the feast, the calumet was danced before us. Still there was +silence between the woman and myself as we sat side by side. I +wondered if she realized that this strange dance was still further +confirmation of what we had done; that it was part of the ceremony of +our marriage. It was a picture as unreal, as incomprehensible, as the +fate we had invited. The sun was westering, and shone full upon the +dancing braves. Their corded muscles and protruding eyes made them +ghastly as tortured wretches of some red-lit inferno. There was no +laughter nor jesting. The kettle-drum rumbled like water in a cave, +and the chant of the singers wailed, and died, and wailed again. And +this was for my wedding. I looked down at the woman's hand that bore +my ring, and saw that the strong, nervous fingers were gripped till +they were bloodless. What was she thinking? I tried to meet her look, +but it was rapt and awed. A wave of heat ran through me; the wild +music beat into my blood. This savage ritual that I had looked at with +alien eyes suddenly took to itself the dignity of the terrible +wilderness that bound us. The pageantry of its barbarism seized upon +me; it was a fitting setting for one kind of marriage,--not a marriage +of flowers and dowry, but the union of two great, stormy hearts who, +through clash and turmoil, had found peace at last. But ours was a +mock marriage, and we had not found peace. My breath choked me. I +leaped to my feet, and begged Onanguissé to end the ceremony, and let +me do my share. I knew what was my part as bridegroom, and Pierre and +Labarthe were waiting with their arms laden. I distributed hatchets, +Brazil tobacco, and beads from Venice. Then I turned to Onanguissé. + +"We go to the land of the Malhominis, to the wild rice people. They +live toward the south-west?" + +He nodded. "Across La Baye des Puants as the wild goose flies. Then +down till you find the mouth of the wild rice river. But why go till +another sunrise?" + +I hesitated. But I thought of the shadowing Huron, and decided that I +could elude him best at night. "We are in haste," I told Onanguissé, +and I pointed the men toward their work. + +But before I myself had time to step toward the canoes, I felt the +woman's touch upon my arm. Though, in truth, it was odd that I felt +it, for the movement was light as the brushing of a grass stalk. + +"Monsieur, do we go now?" she asked. "You have had no opportunity for +council with these Indians, yet I see that they are powerful." + +She was watching my interests. I laid my fingers on hers, and looked +full at her as I had not done since we had been man and wife. Her eyes +were mournful as they often were, but they were starry with a thought I +could not read. The awe and the wonder were still there, and her +fingers were unsteady under mine. I dropped to my knees. + +"I have done more than you saw," I said, with my eyes on hers. "I have +talked with Onanguissé, and have smoked a full pipe with the old men in +council. Thank you for your interest. Thank you, Madame de Montlivet." + +But she would not look at me bent before her. "That I wish you to do +your best, unhampered by me, does not mean that I wish you success," +she said, with her head high, and she went to Onanguissé, and curtsied +her adieus. Her last words were with Father Nouvel, and she hid her +eyes for a moment, while he blessed her and said good-by. + +Our canoes pointed to the sunset as we rounded the headland and slid +outward. On the shore, the Indian women chanted a hymn to Messou,--to +Messou, the Maker of Life, and the God of Marriage, to whom, on our +behalf, many pipes had been smoked that day. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +I TAKE A NEW PASSENGER + +Now the great bay on which we were embarked was a water empire, fair to +the eye, but tricky of wind and current. La Baye des Puants the French +called it, from the odor that came at seasons from the swamps on the +shore, and it ran southwest from Lake Illinois. The Pottawatamie +Islands that we had just left well-nigh blocked its mouth, and its +southern end was the outlet of a shining stream that was known as the +River of the Fox. The bay was thirty leagues long by eight broad, and +had tides like the ocean. Five tribes dwelt around it: the +Pottawatamies at its mouth, the Malhominis halfway down on its western +shore, and the Sacs, the Chippewas, and the Winnebagoes scattered at +different points in more transitory camps. To the east the bay was +separated from Lake Illinois by a long peninsula that lay like a +rough-hewn arrow with its point to the polestar. It was goodly land, I +had been told, rich in game, and splashed with ponds, but since it was +too small to support the hunting of a tribe it was left comparatively +unoccupied. All of the five tribes, and sometimes the Miamis, fished +there at intervals; it was neutral ground. I told all this to the +woman as our canoes swept toward the sunset. + +She sat with her back to the west, and the sun, that dazzled my eyes, +shone red through her brown hair, and I scorned myself that I should +have believed for a moment that such soft, fine abundance ever framed a +man's forehead. I talked to her freely; talked of winds and tides and +Indians, and was not deterred when she answered me but sparingly. I +could not see her face distinctly, because of the light, but there was +something in the gentleness and intentness of her listening poise that +made me feel that she welcomed the safeguard of my aimless speech, but +that for the moment she had no similar weapons of her own. + +So long as daylight lasted, we traveled swiftly toward the southwest, +but when the sunset had burned itself to ashes, and the sky had blurred +into the tree line, I told the men to shift their paddles, and drift +for a time. The last twenty-four hours had hardened them to surprise. +They obeyed me as they did Providence,--as a troublesome, but +all-powerful enigma. + +And so we floated, swinging like dead leaves on the long swells. The +stars came out, the gulls went shoreward for the night, and we were as +alone as if on the sea. The woman's slender figure, wrapped in her +white cloak, became a silent, shining wraith. She was within touch of +my hand, yet unreachably remote. I lost my glib speech. The gray +loneliness that one feels in a crowd came over me. If I had been alone +with my men, I should have felt well accompanied, master of my craft, +and in tune with my condition. It was the presence of this alien +woman, whom I must protect, but not approach, that made me realize that +I was thousands of leagues from my own kind, and that I must depend on +my own judgment--with which I felt much out of conceit--to carry this +expedition safely through the barbarous wilderness. I shook myself, +and told my men to pick up their paddles. + +But we were to travel no more toward the southwest that night. My plan +was to turn back, paddle due east, and reach the peninsula before the +late moonrise. This doubling on my track was to cheat Pemaou if he +were indeed pursuing. Then I was planning to make the peninsula my +headquarters for a time. I had left word at the islands that I was on +my way to confer with the Malhominis, but I had not committed myself as +to where I should make my permanent camp. I hoped, in this game of +hide and seek, to shake off the Huron, and leave the woman in safe +hiding, while I went on my mission from tribe to tribe. + +And so I told the men to work with muffled paddles. I thought the +precaution somewhat unnecessary, but took it as a matter of form. Now +that I was in action again, I felt in command of the situation. And +then, from some shadowy distance, I heard the splash of a pursuing oar. + +I commanded silence, and we craned into the darkness, and listened. We +all heard it. The sound came as regularly as a heart-beat, and it was +no muffled stroke. The oarsman was using his paddle openly and fast. +The sound came from behind us, a little to the north, and, judging from +its growing distinctness, it was following hard in our track. There +was nothing for it but a race. I gave orders. + +The men worked well, and we sped through foaming water for perhaps a +quarter hour. Then land rose in front of us. It shot up, all in an +instant, out of the murk, and we had quick work to keep from grounding +our canoes. I could see no shore line to north or south. We had found +either the end of a promontory or a small island. We landed on a +shelving beach, and lifted the canoes out of danger. + +"Lie down," I commanded; and we dropped on the sand, and strained our +ears for sound of pursuit. + +For a time we heard nothing. Our burst of speed had carried us some +distance, and I had begun to think that we had shaken off our pursuer, +when again came the beat, beat, beat of the distant oar. We lay close +as alligators on a bank, and waited. The strokes came nearer, and at +last we saw a sliding shape. As well as we could make out, there was +but one canoe, and it was passing us a little to the northward. It +would miss the jut of land where we were hiding, and land on the main +shore of the peninsula. We could hear but one paddle, so judged that +there was but one person in the canoe. Still we did not know. + +It was growing near moonrise, and there was nothing to be done. I told +the men to lie near together, and sleep till I called them. Then I cut +boughs and laid a couple of blankets on them for the woman's couch. +She had sat quiet all these hours, and now, as I bade her good-night, +she asked her first question. + +"Are you willing to tell me why you fear pursuit, monsieur?" + +I hesitated. "We grow like animals in the wilderness," I parried, "and +so suspect every sound as coming from a foe." + +"Then you do not know who it is in the canoe?" + +I could have answered "no," but I would not. + +"Yes, I think that I know," I replied. "I think that it is Pemaou, a +Huron. An Indian whom you have never seen." + +She read the hate in my voice. "Do you know what he wants, monsieur?" + +And now I could answer truthfully, and with a laugh. "I suspect that +he wants, or has been sent to get, something that I have determined to +keep,--at least for the present," I told her. "Good-night, madame." + +I told my inner self that I must sleep soundly, and wake just before +dawn; and so that was what happened. The horizon was flushing when I +rose and looked around. My company was asleep. The woman lay on her +bright blankets, and I looked at her a moment to make sure that all was +well. She was smiling as if her dreams were pleasant, and her face +wore such a look of peace, that I turned to the east, ready to begin +the day, and to thank God that I had not done everything entirely +wrong. I took the lighter of the canoes, carried it to the water, and +dipping a cautious paddle, crept off along the shore. + +If I wake in the woods every dawn for a year, I can never grow stale to +the miracle of it. I was on no pleasant errand, yet I could not help +tingling at the cleanness of the air and at the smell of the mint that +our canoes had crushed. I hugged the shore like a shadow, and rounded +a little bend. It was as I had thought. We had landed on the western +side of a small island, and before me, not a quarter hour's paddling +away, stretched the shore line of the peninsula. + +Here was my risk. I paddled softly across the open stretch, but that +availed me little, for I was an unprotected target. I slanted my +course northward, and strained my gaze along the shore. Yet I hardly +expected to find anything. It came like a surprise when I saw in +advance of me a light canoe drawn up on the sand. + +I landed, drew my own canoe to shelter, and reconnoitred. I had both +knife and musket ready, and I pulled myself over logs as silent as a +snake. Yet, cautious as I was, little furtive rustlings preceded me. +The wood folks had seen me and were spreading the warning. Unless +Pemaou were asleep I had little chance of surprising him. Yet I crept +on till I saw through the leaves the outlines of a brown figure on the +ground. + +I stopped. I had been trying for a good many hours to balance the +right and wrong of this matter in my mind, and my reason had insisted +to my inclination that, if I had opportunity, I must kill Pemaou +without warning. We respect no code in dealing with a rattlesnake, and +I must use this Huron like the vermin that he was. So I had taught +myself. + +But now I could not do it. The blanket-wrapped shape was as +unconscious as a child in its cradle, and though the wilderness may +breed hardness of purpose it need not teach butchery. I crept out +determined to scuttle the Indian's canoe and go away. If the man +waked, my knife was ready to try conclusions with him in a fair field. + +I suppose that I really desired him to wake, and that made me careless, +for just as I bent to the canoe, I let my foot blunder on a twig, and +it cracked like shattering glass. I grasped my knife and whirled. The +figure on the ground jerked, threw off its shrouding blanket, and +stretched up. It was not Pemaou. It was the Ottawa girl Singing Arrow. + +I did not drop my knife. My thought was of decoy and ambush, which was +no credit to me, for this girl had been faithful before. But we train +ourselves not to trust an Indian except of necessity. + +"Are you alone?" I demanded. + +She nodded, pressing her lips together and dimpling. She feared me as +little as a kitten might. + +"I came to the Pottawatamie camp just after you left," she volunteered. + +And then I laughed, laughed as I had not done in days. So this was the +quarry that I had been stalking! I had been under a long tension, and +it was suddenly comfortable to be ridiculous. I sat down and laughed +again. + +"Are you following Pierre?" I asked, sobering, and trying to be stern. + +But she put her head sidewise and considered me. She looked like a +squirrel about to crack a nut. + +"A hare may track a stag," she announced judicially. "I have followed +you. My back is bent like a worm with the aching of it, but I came +faster than a man. I have this for you," and fumbling in her blouse +she brought out a bulky packet addressed with my name. + +I took it with the marvel that a child takes a sleight-of-hand toy and +stared at the seal. + +"From Cadillac! From the commandant!" I ejaculated. + +She nodded. It was her moment of triumph, but she passed it without +outward show. + +"Read it. I am sleepy," she said, and yawning in my face she tumbled +herself back into the blanket and closed her eyes. + +The packet was well wrapped and secured, and I dug my way to the heart +of it and found the written pages. The letter began abruptly. + +"Monsieur," it said, "I send you strange tidings by a stranger +messenger. It is new to me to trust petticoats in matters of secrecy, +but it is rumored that you set me the example, and that you carried off +the Englishman dressed in this Singing Arrow's clothes. The Indian +herself will tell me nothing. That determined me to trust her. + +"Briefly, you are followed. That fire-eating English lad that you have +with you--I warrant that he has proved a porcupine to travel with--must +be of some importance. At all events, an Englishman, who gives his +name as Starling, has made his way here in pursuit. He tells a fair +tale. He says that the lad, who is dear as a brother to him, is a +cousin, who was captured in an Indian raid on the frontier. As soon as +he, Starling, learned of the capture, he started after them, and he has +spent months searching the wilderness, as you would sift the sand of +the sea. He found the trail at last, and followed it here. He begs +that I send him on to you with a convoy. + +"Now this, as you see, sounds very fair, and part of it I know to be +true. The man is certainly in earnest--about something,--and has spent +great time and endeavor in this search. He has even been to Quebec, +and worked on Frontenac's sympathies, for he bears from the governor a +letter of safe conduct to me, and another, from the Jesuits, to Father +Carheil. He comes--apparently--on no political mission; he is alone, +and his tale is entirely plausible. There is but one course open to +me. I must let him go on. + +"But I do it with misgivings. The story is fair, but I can tell a fair +story myself upon occasion, and there is no great originality in this +one. I remember that you said after your first interview with your +Englishman, that you were afraid he was a spy. There is always that +danger,--a danger that Frontenac underestimates because he has not +grasped the possibilities that we have here. If both these men should +prove to be spies, and in collusion---- Well, they are brave men, and +crafty; it will be the greater pleasure to outwit them. I cannot +overlook the fact that the first Englishman was brought here by the +Baron's band of Hurons, and that this man selects his messengers from +the same dirty clan. I have reason to think he was in communication +with them before he came,--which is no credit to a white man. +Dubisson, my lieutenant, tells me that a Huron told his Indian servant +that pictures of the prisoner drawn on bark had been scattered among +the Indians for a fortnight past. The story was roundabout, and I +could not run it down. But it makes me watchful. + +"So this is where we stand. I must give this man Starling a letter to +you. The letter will be official, and will direct you to deliver your +prisoner into Starling's hands. If he finds you, you have no choice +but to obey; so, if you think from your further knowledge of your +prisoner that it is unwise for these two men to meet, it is your cue +not to be found. I leave it with you. + +"There is, of course, great doubt whether this will find you. You +asked me about Onanguisseé so I infer that you will stop at the islands +at the mouth of La Baye, and I shall send the Indian girl directly +there. I shall suggest to Starling that he hug the coast line, and +search each bay, and if he listens to me, the girl should reach you +well in advance. But it is all guess-work. Starling may have spies +among the Indians, and know exactly where you are. I wish he were out +of the way. Granted that his errand is fair, he will still see too +much. For all men, in whatever state they are born, lack neither +vanity nor ambition, and this man is accustomed to command. It is a +crack in the dike, and I do not like it. + +"But enough. I hear that you trussed Father Blackgown like a pigeon +for the spit the night that you went away. I would have given my best +tobacco box to have seen it. There was some excitement here over the +loss of the prisoner, but no talk of pursuit. Indeed, the Hurons +seemed relieved to have him spirited out of the way. Which is odd, for +they took great pains to obtain him. But I am wonted to the +unexpected; it is the usual that finds me unprepared. Even Father +Blackgown surprises me. He has not complained to me of you, though +heretofore I have found him as ready to shout his wrongs as a crow in a +cornfield. But again, enough. + +"And I have the honor to be, with great respect, monsieur, + +"Your very obedient servant, + +"ANTOINE DE LA MOTHE-CADILLAC." + + +I read the letter through twice. Then I turned to Singing Arrow. I +was glad she was a savage. If she had been white, man or woman, I +should have been obliged to go through a long explanation, and I was +not in the mood for it. Now savages are content to begin things in the +middle, and omit questions. It may be indolence with them, and it may +be philosophy. I have never decided to my satisfaction. But the fact +serves. + +"Do you think that you were followed?" I asked. + +The girl sat up and shook her head. "Only by the stars and the +clouds," she answered. + +I felt relieved. "And how did you happen to come this way?" I went on. +"What did they tell you at the Pottawatamie Islands?" + +She stopped to laugh. "That you went the other way," she replied, and +she swept her arm to the southwest. + +I shrugged my shoulders. "And you thought I lied to them?" + +She nodded her answer. "The bird who hides her nest cries and makes a +great noise and runs away from it," she explained. "You told all the +Pottawatamies who would listen that you were going southwest. So I +went southeast." + +I could afford to let her laugh at me. "We stopped at that island over +there," I said, without comment. "Now we will follow this shore line +for a distance south. You must go with us. Singing Arrow, did they +tell you at the islands that the English prisoner was a woman, and that +she is now my wife?" + +The girl did not answer nor look in my direction. She pulled her +blanket over her head, and sat as stiffly as a badger above his hole. +I could not determine whether the news of the marriage was a surprise +or not. It did not matter. I lit my pipe and let her work it out. + +"Are you coming?" I asked at last. "I must go back to the island now." + +She rose and pulled her blanket around her. She was typically Indian +at the moment, unreadable and cold. But she nodded in acquiescence and +went to her canoe. + +I found my own canoe and we paddled side by side. The sun was over the +horizon now and fish were jumping. I saw a great bass that must have +weighed five pounds spring his whole length out of the water for a fly. +A sportsman in France would have traveled leagues to have seen such a +fish, and here it lay ready for my hand. Perhaps after all there was +no need to search for reasons for the exultation that was possessing me. + +A few moments brought us to the island, and we rounded the point and +came into the cove. The little camp was awake and startled by my +absence. Pierre was searching the horizon from under a red, hairy +hand, and Labarthe was looking to the priming of his arquebus. Only +the woman sat steadfast. All this I saw at a glance. + +I rushed the canoes to the shore, and helped the Indian girl to alight +as I would have helped any woman. I gave one look at the men, and +said, "Be still," and then I led Singing Arrow to the woman. + +"Madame," I said, "here is the Indian girl who befriended you when you +were a prisoner. It was she who passed us last night. She comes to me +with documents from Cadillac, and I have great reason to be grateful to +her. I commend her to you, madame." + +I doubt that the woman heard much of my speech, though I made it +earnestly. She was looking at the Indian girl, and the Indian girl at +her. I should have liked cordiality between them, but I did not expect +it. The woman would do her best, but she would not know how. I had +come to think her gracious by nature, and she would treat this girl +with courtesy, but she was a great lady while Singing Arrow was a +squaw, and she would remember it. Yet Singing Arrow, even though she +might admit her inferiority to a white man, would think herself the +equal of any woman of whatever rank or race. I could not see how the +gulf could be bridged. + +But bridged it was, and that oddly. The woman stood for a moment half +smiling, and then suddenly tears gathered in her eyes. She put out her +hand to Singing Arrow, and the Indian took it, and they walked together +back into the trees. They could not understand each other, and I +wondered what they would do. But later I heard them laughing. + +Well, the woman was destined to surprise me, and she had done it again. +I had thought her too finely woven and strong of fibre to be easily +emotional. It was some hours before it came to me that she had not +been with another woman since the night the savages had found her in +the Connecticut farmhouse. All the world had been a foe to be feared +and parried except myself, and I had been a despot. Perhaps she did +not know herself. Perhaps she would welcome Benjamin Starling after +all. No matter what her horror of him, she could at least be natural +with him, if only to show her scorn. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE STORM + +We embarked in good season that morning and followed the line of the +peninsula in its slant to the southwest. It was a pleasant shore, +limestone-scarped and tree-bannered, and we paddled so near to it that +the squirrels scolded at us, and a daisy-spotted fawn crashed through +the young cedars and stared at us with shy eyes. The birds were +singing and calling like maids in a hayfield, and the woman sat with +her back straight and her eyes laughing, and imitated each new note as +the breeze brought it to her. She did it fairly well, but Singing +Arrow could have done it better. In my heart I commended the Indian +for sitting silent, for I knew that the vanity of her sex and the +inherent boastfulness of her savage blood must both be whispering to +her that this was the place to show her superiority. But she resisted. + +I had taken her in the canoe with the woman and myself, and putting +Pierre in her canoe had bidden him follow. I was well satisfied to +keep them apart for a time. Yet no sister of the Ursulines could have +been more exemplary with her glances than this Indian was just then. +She sat like a figure of destiny and watched the woman. Whether she +admired or not I should not know till I saw whether she intended to +imitate. + +Cadillac's letter lay heavy in my pocket that day and disinclined me to +speech. Should I show it to the woman and ask her what she would like +to do? And having asked her, should I let her preference warp my final +decision? I was not sure. The manner of my life had confirmed me in +my natural inclination to decide things for myself and take no counsel. +And now all my desires called out to me to destroy this letter and say +nothing. Why should I wish to meet Lord Starling? And by keeping out +of the way I should be playing into Cadillac's hands and therefore +furthering my own ends. Yet the woman! After all, Starling was her +cousin. Had she not the right to choose for herself whether she should +see him? My training and instinct said no to this last question. +Women were made to be cared for, at whatever cost, but not to be taken +into confidence as to ways and means. Still I had entered into a bond +with this woman. I breathed hard. I had always been restive under any +bond, though by nature plodding enough when it was removed. I was +aware that I was but sullen company while I rolled this matter in my +mind. + +The day was warm, and by afternoon soaring pinions of cloud pushed up +from the western horizon. I watched their white edges curl and +blacken, and when they began to be laced with red lightning I said to +the woman that we should have to land. + +"Though I hoped to make the Sturgeon Cove," I added idly. + +The breeze was rising, drawing sharp criss-cross furrows on the water, +and I noticed how it ruffled the woman's hair; her hair was like her +eyes, a warm red-brown. + +"What is Sturgeon Cove?" she asked. "Is it a bay,--a larger one than +we have passed?" + +I took a rough map from my wallet and handed it to her. "Much larger, +you see," I said. "It almost bisects the peninsula. Only the Sturgeon +portage, about a mile long, separates it from the lake of the Illinois. +We must be near it now." + +She gave but a look at the map, then glanced at the cloud-streaked west +and at the shore. + +"Try to make it. Try to reach Sturgeon Cove," she urged. + +I was thinking of something else, so I answered her only by a shake of +the head. Perhaps that angered her. At all events she smote her palms +together with a short, soft little clap, such as I use when I call my +dog. + +"I do not wish to land here," she said, throwing back her head at me +quite as she had done when I thought her a boy. "I wish to go on. Why +not?" + +I motioned Pierre to the shore. "Because you would get wet," I +answered stoically. + +She flushed as redly as if I had hurt her. "And if I did?" she cried. +"Better discomfort than this constant humiliation. Monsieur, I refuse +to be made a burden of in this fashion. It is not fair. You made your +plans to reach a certain point, and you would go on, rain or otherwise, +if it were not for me. For me, for me, for me! I am sick of the sound +of the words in my own brain. I am sick of the excuse. Each added +sacrifice you make for me weighs me like lead. It binds me. I cannot +endure the obligation. Believe me, monsieur." + +I had no choice but to believe her. Yet she stopped with a gasp of the +breath, as if she had said too much, or perhaps too little,--as if she +were dissatisfied. Well, I had but scant desire to reply. I should +have liked to walk away, and rebelled in my heart at our forced +nearness in the canoe. My feeling was not new. When I had thought her +a man she had antagonized me in spite of my interest; as a maid she had +troubled me, and now as my wife I found that she had already power to +wound. Still, with all my inner heat, I could look as it were in a +mirror and understand her unhappiness and vexation. She was trying to +act towards me with a man's fairness and detachment, but each move that +I made showed that I considered her solely as a woman and therefore an +encumbrance. Let her act with whatever bravery and wisdom she might, +her sex still enmeshed us like a silken trap. We could not escape it. +And it was a fetter. Mask it as courteously as I would, the fact +remained that it was undoubtedly a fetter. I felt a certain compassion +for her and her forced dependence, and said to myself that I would hide +my own soreness. But her words had bitten, and I am not a patient man. + +I turned my canoe inland, and looked to it that the others did the +same. Then I leaned toward her. + +"No, we will land here," I said. "Madame, I am frequently forced to +look behind your words, which are sharp, and search for your meaning, +which is admirable. You resent being an encumbrance. May I suggest +that you will be less one if you follow my plans without opposition? I +mean no discourtesy, madame, when I say that no successful expedition +can have two heads in control." + +With all her great self-discipline in some directions, she had none in +others, and I braced myself for her retort. But none came. Instead +she looked at me almost wistfully. + +"I lose my temper when I wish I did not," she said. "But I should like +to help you, monsieur." + +I laid down my paddle. "Help is a curious quantity," I replied. +"Especially here in the wilderness where what we say counts for so +little and what we are for so much. I think,--it comes to me +now,--madame, you have given me strength more than once when you did +not suspect it. So you need not try to help me consciously. But now I +need your counsel. Will you read this?" and I took Cadillac's letter +from my pocket and handed it to her. + +She examined the seal with amazement as I had done, then looked at +Singing Arrow. "The Indian brought this? It must be very important. +Ought I---- Is it right for me to see it, monsieur?" + +I laughed. I looked off at the piling thundercaps and the ruffling +water, and the exhilaration of the coming storm whipped through me. +There was a pleasant tang to life. + +"Read it, yes," I insisted. "You are Madame de Montlivet. No one can +have a better right. Read it after we land." + +It took some moments to make a landing, for the waves were already high +and the shore rough. In spite of ourselves we tore the canoes on +hidden rocks. We unloaded the cargo and had things snug and tidy by +the time the first great drops plumped down upon us. We worked like +ants, and I did not look at the woman. I knew that she was reading the +letter, and I had no wish to spy. + +But when I went to her there was no letter in sight. I did not stop to +talk, but I wrapped her in the cloak that Onanguissé had given her, and +wound her still further with blankets. "You will be cool enough in a +few minutes," I assured her, and I made a nest for her in a thicket of +young pines. She obeyed me dumbly, but with a certain gentleness, a +sort of submission. As she gazed up at me with her brown face and +inscrutable eyes, my hands were not quite steady. Heretofore I had +felt her power; now I felt only her inexperience, her dependence. +Child, woman, sphinx! What should I do with her? I turned away. The +rain was upon us in earnest. + +I looked for my crew. The men were curled under trees, but Singing +Arrow had used more craft. She had hidden herself under her light +canoe,--which she had first secured with pegs that it might not blow +away,--and she lay as compact and comfortable as a tree-housed grub. I +lifted the corner of the canoe and peered at her, whereat she giggled +happily, serene in the thought that I was wet while she was dry. She +was as restful to the brain as a frolicking puppy, and I shook my head +at her to hear her giggle again. I was about to wonder whether she had +ever known awe of anything, but just then the thunder, which had been +merely growling, barked out like a howitzer above us, and she covered +her head and screamed like any of her sex. + +The thunder sent me back to the woman. I crept, wet as I was, into her +pine-needled hollow, and started to ask if she were afraid. But the +question died at sight of her. She was propped on her elbows, and had +parted the low boughs in front of her that she might look out at the +storm. She turned at sound of me, and the blood was in her cheeks as I +felt it in mine. + +"Come," she cried with her motion. + +I went and lay close beside her, peering, as she did, through the +trees. The world was all wind and red light and churning water. I +could feel her quick breathing. + +"I can hear the spirit of the wilderness crying," she said to me. The +lightning played over her face and eyes, and they shone like flame. + +I laid a hand on her wet blankets. "Has the rain soaked through?" + +But she did not listen. The exultation in her look I have seen +sometimes in the face of a young priest; I have also seen it in a +savage dancer. It is all one. It is the leaping response of the soul +to the call of a great freedom. Storm was summoning storm. I found +the woman's hand, and lay with it in mine. + +She remembered me again after a time. "Does it call to you?" she cried. + +I could feel the blood racing in her palm. "As it does to you," I +answered, and I lay still, and let the storm riot in me, and around me, +with her hand held close. + +We could not speak for some time. The thunder was constant, and the +play of the lightning was like the dazzle of a fencer's sword. Mingled +with the thunder came the slap of frothing water and the whine of +bending trees. The wind was ice to the cheeks. + +At the first lull the woman turned to me. "If you had followed my +wishes we should have been drowned." + +I nodded. I had no wish to speak. The storm in me was not lessening. +I kept the woman's hand and was swept on by the tempest. + +And the woman, too, lay silent. I saw her look at me once, and look +away. And then, because I could think more coherently, it came to me +that she had changed. The change had come since she had read +Cadillac's letter. She had said nothing, but she was different. What +did it mean? Was she natural at last because she thought succor was +near? I was not ready to know. The moments that I had now were mine. +Ten minutes later they might, if she decreed, belong to Benjamin +Starling. + +The storm passed as swiftly as the shifting of a tableau. The rain +stopped, not lingeringly, but as if a key had been turned, and cracks +came in the clouds like clefts in black ice and showed the blue beyond. +In five minutes the sun was shining. We all crept out from under trees +and canoes, and shook ourselves like drenched fowls. + +It was magic the way the world changed. The wind died, and the sun +shone low and yellow, and a robin began to sing. The water was still +white and fretting, and the sand was strewn with torn leaves, but +otherwise there was peace. I told Pierre to take one of the men and +find dry fuel for a fire, and Labarthe to take the other and attend to +gumming the canoes. Then I went to the woman, who had slipped dry and +red-cheeked from her wrappings, and was walking in the sun. + +"Well, Madame Montlivet," I said, with a bow, "what shall we do about +Monsieur Cadillac's letter?" + +There was laughter in my voice, and it confused her. "What shall we +do?" she echoed doubtfully. "Did you mean to say 'we'?" + +I bowed again. "'We' assuredly. It must be a joint decision. Come, +it is for you to declare your mind. Do we seek Lord Starling, do we +hide from him, or do we stand still and let Fate throw the dice for us? +What do you wish, madame?" + +She looked at me with a little puzzled withdrawal. "Why do you laugh?" +she asked. + +I was loath to vex her. But, indeed, I could not check the tide of +joyous excitement that was surging through me. "I do not know quite +why I laugh," I answered truly. "Perhaps it is because the sun is +shining, and because life looks so fair and rich and full of +possibilities. But, madame, we have been tragic too long; it irks us +both. Tell me, now. It rests with you. Shall we paddle northwest and +search for your cousin, Lord Starling?" + +She thought a moment. "You wish it?" + +"No, madame." + +She turned away. "Then why ask me? You said there could not be two +heads in this command." + +I sobered. "Now that was a cat's scratch," I rebuked. "You have never +done that before." + +The gentleness of her look made me ashamed. "You are suspicious of +me," she said a little sadly. "That was not a scratch, monsieur. I +said what I mean; I prefer to leave the decision in your hands." + +"But your wish?" + +"It is confused, monsieur." + +"But your sense of justice in the matter?" + +She was silent a moment, and walked up and down. "I have been trying +to see the right ever since I read the letter," she said quietly. +"This is the best answer I can make. I think that we had better avoid +meeting Lord Starling, monsieur." + +I stepped to her side and matched my pace to hers. The robin had been +joined by his mate, and they were singing. "Why, madame?" I asked her, +and when she was still silent I persisted. "Why, madame?" + +She lifted grave eyes to me. "I think it will be wise to keep Lord +Starling in the wilderness as long as possible," she answered. "If he +does not find me it may be that he will keep on searching. He may +not,--but again he may. On the other hand, if he finds me he will +assuredly go home." + +"And if he does go home? I assure you the wilderness is no sweeter in +my eyes while he is here." + +She handed me Cadillac's letter. "I think that you know what I mean," +She said. "Your commandant is a wise man. Monsieur, I do not +understand Lord Starling's purpose in this journey, but I am afraid +that Monsieur de la Mothe-Cadillac is right. My cousin may be treating +secretly with the Indians. He is a capable man, and not easy to read. +I do not know why he should be here." + +I looked down at her. "But I know. He is here to find you. Have you +forgotten what I said to you yesterday morning? He will not rest till +he has found you. Ought we to save him anxiety? I can understand that +he has suffered." + +But she shook her head, and her eyes as she looked up at me showed the +deep sadness that always seemed, while it lasted, to be too rooted ever +to be erased. + +"You are an idealist, monsieur. You believe in man's constancy as I do +not. I cannot believe that I am the moving cause of Lord Starling's +journey. He would undoubtedly like to find me, for I am of his house +and of use to him, but he has other purposes. Of that I am sure." + +I grew cruel because I was glad; there is nothing so ruthless as +happiness. "And you would thwart his purposes, madame?" I cried. + +She looked at me coldly. "I will not be used as a tool against you," +she said. + +"And that is all?" + +"It is enough. I have said this to you many times. Why do you make me +say it again? I have undertaken to do something, and I will carry it +through. I will not lend myself to any plot against your interests. I +will not. So long as we are together, I will play the game fair." + +"And when we are no longer together?" + +She pushed out her hands. "I do not know. I am glad that you asked me +that. Monsieur, if any chance should free us from each other, if we +should reach Montreal in safety, why, then, I do not know. I come of +an ambitious race. It may be that I shall use the information that I +have. I love my country as you do yours, and when a woman has had some +beliefs taken from her there is little remaining her but ambition. So +let me know as little as possible of your plans, for I may use my +knowledge. I give you warning, monsieur." + +The happiness in me would not die, and so, perhaps, I smiled. She +looked at me keenly. + +"You think that I am vaunting idly," she said. "Perhaps I am. I do +not know what I shall do. But, monsieur, for your own sake do not +underestimate my capacity for doing you harm. I mean that as a gauge." + +She stood against the sunset, and her delicate height and proud head +showed like a statue's. I stooped and lifted an imaginary glove from +the sand. + +"I take your gauge," I said. "But I find it a small and delicate +gauntlet for so warlike a purpose. May I wear it next my heart, +madame?" + +She looked at me proudly. "I am serious," she said. + +"And I take you seriously," I rejoined. I stepped to her and let my +hand touch hers. "You wrong me. I find that I take you very seriously +indeed. Believe me. But I have always lived in the present. Come, we +have been grave long enough. Let us be children and take the passing +moment. Madame, Montreal is very far away." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +AFTER THE STORM + +We slept at that place that night, and the stars came out clear, and +the water on the sand sang like a harp played by the wind. I slept, +but I dreamed. I thought that Lord Starling came to me, and that the +woman went away. And then the dream shifted, and I stood in a strange, +barren mist-world, and I was alone. I saw the awful loneliness of +creation, and immensity stretched around me. I traveled through +infinite spaces of void and blackness, and found no sound of voice or +life, yet all the time, welling high within me, was a tide, the +fullness of which I had never known in my waking hours. All the +strength that I had hoarded, all the desire for love that I had pushed +aside, all of the fierce commotions of unrest that mark us from the +brute, stirred in me till I felt as if I were suffocating, and cried +out for a helping hand. But I was alone, and gray wastes surrounded +me, and my surge of feeling beat itself out against desolation. I woke +with sweat on my forehead. + +I woke to a black night. The stars looked cold, and the men beside me +lay as if dead. I looked up and watched the roll of the planets. The +mystery of infinity which lies naked at midnight in the wilderness +drives some men mad. Heretofore I had been untouched by it except with +delight. Now I crept cautiously to my feet and went softly to the +woman. + +I know that I stepped without sound, but as I stood for a moment +looking down at the couch of boughs where she lay I heard a guarded +whisper. + +"Monsieur, monsieur." + +I bent over her. Her eyes were not only open, but wakeful, and her +small face looked white against the dark blanket. + +"What is it, monsieur?" she whispered. + +I knelt that I might answer softly. "I woke, and thought you were in +danger. I came to look at you and be sure that all was well. You do +not sleep, madame?" + +She shook her head. "I slept, but I dreamed. And you, monsieur?" + +"I, too, have dreamed." + +I thought that she smiled at me, though her face, when I leaned to see +it clearly, blurred into the dark. + +"Will you sleep the rest of the night within sound of my voice?" she +asked, with a little tremble in her whisper. "The wilderness tonight +is like that storm. Its greatness terrifies me. Do you think that all +is well, monsieur?" + +I was glad that she could not see my face. "Yes, I think that all is +very well," I answered. "Blessedly well. Sleep, now, madame. I shall +stay here, and your whisper would wake me. Is there terror in the +wilderness now?" + +Again she shook her head. "No," she whispered. + +I lay beside her couch and cushioned my head in my arm. I had answered +her truly. All was very well with me, for at last I saw clearly; I +knew myself. The dream, the night, and something that I could not +name, had stripped me naked to my own understanding. I felt as if, man +that I had thought myself, I had played with toys until this moment, +and that now, for the first time, I was conscious of my full power for +joy or suffering. I looked up through the star spaces and was grateful +for knowledge, for knowledge even if it brought pain. + +I had not lain this way long when I heard her stir. + +"Monsieur," came her whisper. + +I lifted myself to my knees. "Yes, madame." + +"You were not asleep?" + +"No, madame." + +"Monsieur, I was loath to disturb you, but I cannot sleep. Tell me. +Suppose that Lord Starling should find us. Will he have power to take +me?" + +"Away from your husband? How could he, madame?" + +She stirred, and turned her face from me, even though I could not see +it in the dark. + +"But he has a warrant," she whispered. "The letter said that you must +deliver me to my cousin if we were found. What will be done with you, +monsieur, if you refuse to obey?" + +Then I bent close and let her hear me laugh softly. + +"I know of no warrant that applies to you," I murmured. "Cadillac's +letter mentioned an Englishman. I know of none such. I travel with a +woman, my wife, and commandants have naught to do with us. Was that +what was troubling you, madame?" + +She bowed, and her breath came unevenly. Her right hand lay outside +the blanket, and I bent and touched it with my lips. + +"How you hate Lord Starling! How you hate him!" I whispered. "I +wonder, can you love as singly? Can you love with as little care for +self and comfort and for all the fat conveniences of life? Madame, you +are a willful child to lie here and tilt at shadows when you should be +garnering strength by sleep. I promised you my sword and my name, and +I agreed that they should both be yours till of your own wish you +should send me away. Had you forgotten that I promised? I had not." + +I had slipped to my knees again and rested with my forehead on her +hand. I could feel her other hand stray toward me. + +"No," she whispered. "No, I had not forgotten, but the dark and a +sudden loneliness made me a coward. Thank you. It is over now and I +will sleep. Monsieur, my partner, I will say good-night, and this time +I will not call you." + +But I rested a moment longer on my knees with my head against her palm. +Then I rose. + +"Partners, perhaps," I said softly. "Yet more than that. Madame, are +we not like pilgrims groping our way together on a dark road? We +cannot see far ahead, but there is a light in the distance. I think +that we shall reach it. Good-night. We shall both sleep now, madame." + +But she slept and I did not. It was nearly day when I closed my eyes +again, yet I did not find the moments long. + +The next morning was quiet and the sky clear. I had read my maps +rightly, and once embarked, an hour of paddling brought us to Sturgeon +Cove. It opened before us suddenly, a wedge of flecked turquoise laid +across the shaded greens of the peninsula. As we entered it a flock of +white gulls rose from the rocky shore and flew before us. The air, +rain washed, was so limpid that it seemed a marvel that it could +sustain the heavy-pinioned birds, but they moved in sure curves and +seemed to bear us with them. I pointed the woman's glance toward them. + +"An omen. We shall follow them and rest here. It is our home." + +We nosed our way, with leisurely paddles, close to the northern shore. +The land sloped gently from the beach, and the quivering water, a faded +green from the tree shadows, crawled over gravel that was patterned +with the white of quartz and with the pomegranate of carnelian. It was +a jeweled pavement, and it led to forest aisles where cathedral lights +splashed through the trees. But I would not stop. The gulls were +still leading. + +The bay narrowed, and the shores pressed close to us, with compact +ranks of cedars held spearwise. Yet we pushed on, and the water path +spread out once more, a final widening. We saw before us the rounded +end of the bay, and the neck of land that formed the Sturgeon portage. +The woman looked at me. + +"What now, monsieur?" + +But I smiled at her with my conceit untroubled. I had seen reeds close +to the northern shore. "Halt!" I cried to the canoes. + +We lay quiet a moment, and the birds glancing back at us found us +suddenly harmless. The reeds under them were swarming with young fish. +The gulls looked down and squawked in a hungry chorus. In a moment +they lighted, balancing their great wings like reefing sails. + +I laughed as I looked at the woman. It was a small triumph, but +intoxication breeds easy laughter. I had been drinking deep that +morning of a sparkling happiness more disturbing than any wine. + +We sent the canoes shoreward into the curve where the reeds lay. The +stiff green withes rattled against our canoes like hail, and gave +warning of our approach for a half mile distant. I nodded my inner +approval. + +"The gulls are wise," I said to the woman. "We could not plan a better +water defense to our camp." + +The grass came down to the water, and we pulled the canoes over short +turf and into beds of white blossoms. A cloud of butterflies rose to +greet us; they too were satin-white, the color that a bride should +wear, and they fluttered over us without fear. The smell of the +grasses rose like incense. With all the light and perfume there was a +sense of quiet, of deep content and peace. Even the woods that fringed +the meadow seemed kindly. They did not have the sombre awe of the +heavy timber, but looked sun-drenched and gay. + +"We shall stay here," I said. "Unload the canoes." + +Five men with good sinews, some understanding, and well-sharpened axe +blades, can make a great change in the forest in one day. When the +sunset found us I had a fortified house built for my wife. It was +framed of fragrant pine, and occupied the extremity of a spit of land +that lay next the meadow. Its door opened on the water, and I made the +opening wide so that the stars might look in at night. All about the +sides and rear of the house were laid boughs, one upon another, and on +the top of this barricade was stretched a long cord threaded with +hawk's bells. The lodges for myself and the men we placed in the rear, +and behind them we laid still another wall of brush to separate us from +the forest. I was satisfied with the defenses. With the reeds in +front and the brush behind, any intruder would sound his own alarm. + +The woman took Singing Arrow and went to her house early that night, +but I sat late over my charts and journal. I had much to study and +more to plan. + +Yet I was abroad the next morning while the stars were still reflected +in the bay. Labarthe was with me, and we took Singing Arrow's light +canoe and packed it with supplies and merchandise. Then we breakfasted +on meal and jerked meat and were ready to start. + +But the rest of the men were not yet astir, and the woman's house was +silent. I walked to it and stood irresolute. I disliked to wake her. +Yet I could not leave her without some message. But while I pondered I +heard her step behind me. She came up from the water, and she looked +all vigor and morning gladness. + +"Why the canoe so early?" she called. "Do we have fish for breakfast?" + +I took her hand. "Come with me to the water." I led her to the canoe +and pointed out the bales of supplies. "You see we are ready for work. +We shall be back in a few days." + +She dropped my hand. "Then why did you build that house?" + +"Why not, madame?" + +"But you say that we are to go this morning." + +"I must go, madame." + +"And you intend to leave me here?" + +"Why, yes, madame." + +"But you said 'we.'" + +I looked some amazement. "I take Labarthe with me. I leave three men +with you on guard. There is nothing to fear." + +And then she threw back her head. "I do not think that I am afraid," +she said more quietly. "But--I was not prepared for this. It had not +occurred to me that you would go away." + +I stopped a moment. "I do not go for pleasure. Indeed, I cannot +imagine a fairer spot in which to linger and forget the world. But did +you think that I would sit in idleness, madame?" + +She looked down. "I do not know that I thought at all about it. It +has gone on like a play, a dream. Perhaps I thought it would continue. +Your plan is to travel from tribe to tribe, and come back here at +intervals?" + +"That is my plan. I shall buy furs and cache them here. I shall try +not to be away more than a week at a time. I regret that I surprised +you. I did not think but that you understood." + +She stood biting her lips and smiling to herself in half-satiric, +half-whimsical fashion. "It says little for my intelligence that I was +unprepared. You are a man, not a courtier. I should have known that +you would not waste an hour. I wish that I might go with you." + +"Madame, I wish it, too." + +She looked up more briskly. "But that would be impossible. Have you +instructions for me, monsieur?" + +"Madame, if you are afraid, come with me." + +"I am not afraid if you say that it is safe, monsieur." + +"Thank you, madame. I think that it is entirely safe. Pierre is a +good deal of a fool and more of a knave, but in some few respects there +is no one like him; he is a rock. You are my wife and in his charge. +He will guard you absolutely." + +"Are we in danger of attack?" + +"I can imagine no possible reason for attack, else I should not leave +you. The Indians are friendly. One thing troubles me. Your +cousin---- Should"---- + +She looked up. "Should Lord Starling find me?" she completed. "Well, +he would tarry here until you came. He would at least show that +courtesy. I can promise as much as that for the family name, monsieur." + +I smiled at her. "I shall await the meeting," I said with unction. I +motioned Labarthe to the paddle, and I kissed the woman's hand. + +"I salute your courage. I shall see you within the week, madame." + +She looked straight at me. "And until then, good fortune." + +But I paused. "Wish me opportunity. That is all that I ask from you +or of you,--opportunity. Good-by for a week, madame." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +IN WHICH I USE OPPORTUNITY + +I squatted beside many camp fires in the next week. I sat in the +flattened cones of the Chippewas' tepees and smoked innumerable pipes +of rank tobacco with the old men. I traded some, but talked more, and +at the end of the week I started home. I waited for a pleasant day and +a westerly wind, for the small canoe was perilously laden with skins. +There was scarcely room for Labarthe and myself to crowd down on our +knees and use our paddles. + +We slipped into Sturgeon Cove late in the afternoon, and swept with the +wind up the stretches of the bay to the camping ground. Summer was at +flood tide, and the air was pungent and the leaves shining. The sunset +shone through tattered ends of cloud, so that the west was hung with +crimson banners. It was my first homecoming. + +Before we reached the camp I saw the woman. She had strayed down the +shore to the west,--too far for safety, I thought,--and was standing +alone on the sand, looking toward the sunset. Her head was back, and +her arms flung out to the woods and the shining sky. I have sometimes +found myself stretching my own arms in just that fashion when I have +been alone and have felt something pressing within me that was too +large for speech. I motioned Labarthe to ship his paddle that I might +look. The western glow was full upon the woman, and her lips were +parted. The open sleeves of her skin blouse fell away from her arms, +which had grown gently rounded since I saw her first. I could not see +her eyes, but she looked somewhere off into the untraveled west,--the +west that was the portal of my enterprise. What was her thought? I +must not let myself trap it unaware. I gave a long, low call; the call +of the loon as he skirts the marshes in the twilight. + +She turned instantly and saw us. I bent forward. The drabbled plume +of my hat swept the water, and I heard Labarthe curse under his breath, +and beg me remember that the canoe was laden. But just then I had no +caution in me. + +The woman's arms dropped. She had a moment of indecision, and she +stood looking at me with the sunset in her face and eyes. Then she +suddenly thrust out both hands towards me across the stretch of water. +I could see her smooth-skinned brown fingers, and one wore my ring. +She bade me welcome. I bent to my paddle, and would have crashed the +canoe up to the shore. + +But she forestalled me. She was already on her way back to the camp, +and if she knew that I had started toward her she did not let me see. +So I had, perforce, to follow. She walked with the free, gliding step +of a woman whose foot had been trained on polished surfaces. I watched +her, and let Labarthe paddle our way through the reeds. + +We reached the camp, deafened by Pierre's bellow of greeting. The +woman had kept pace with us, and stood waiting for us to disembark. +She was breathing quickly and the blood was in her brown cheeks; her +great eyes were frankly opened and shining. I pushed by the men and +bent to kiss her hand. + +"Madame, thank you for my welcome home." + +She bowed, and I caught the perfume of a rose on her breast. +"Monsieur, we are all rejoiced to see you safe." Her tone took, +half-whimsically, the note of court and compliment. The fingers that I +still held were berry stained. She showed them to me with a laugh and +a light word, and so made excuse to draw them away. Her hair had grown +long enough to blow into her eyes, and she smoothed a soft loose wave +of it as she questioned me about my voyage. + +I was new to the wonder of seeing her there, so answered her stupidly. +For all my day-dreams of the week that I had been away I was not +prepared for her. And indeed she had altered. The strain of fear and +incessant watchfulness was removed, and with the lessening of that +tension had come a pliancy of look and gesture, a richness of tone that +found me unprepared. I made but a poor figure. It was as well that +work clamored at me, and that I had to turn away and direct the men. + +We ate our supper at the time of the last daylight, and the +whippoorwills were calling and the water singing in the reeds. It was +a silent meal, but I sat beside the woman, and when it was over I drew +her with me to the shore. It was very still. Fireflies danced in the +grasses, and the stars pricked out mistily through a gauze of cloud. I +wrapped the woman in her fur coat, and bade her sit, while I stretched +myself at her feet. Then I turned to her. + +"Madame, have you questions for me that you did not wish the men to +hear?" + +She sat very quietly, but I knew that her hand, which was within touch +of mine, grew suddenly rigid. + +"Monsieur, you heard nothing of Lord Starling?" + +I touched her hand lightly. "Nothing, madame. I have no news." + +"Then matters stand just as they did a week ago?" + +I hesitated. "As concerns Lord Starling, yes. As concerns +ourselves---- Madame, I carry a lighter heart than I did. All this +week I have feared that you were fretting at the loneliness and the +rough surroundings. But I find you serene and the surface of life +smooth. It is a gallant spirit that you bring to this situation. I +thank you, madame." + +She did not speak for a moment, so that I wondered if I had vexed her. +I looked up straight into her great eyes that were full on me, and +there was something disquietingly alight in her glance, a flicker of +that lightning that had played between us on the day of the storm. + +"Monsieur!" she cried, with a little sobbing laugh. "I beg you never +to thank me--for anything. The stream of gratitude must always run +from me to you. I have not been serene because of any will of mine. +It has been instinctive. I can sometimes carry out a fixed purpose, +but I do it stiffly, inflexibly, not as you do, with a laugh and a +shrug, monsieur. No, no! My serenity has not been calculated. I have +been--I have been almost happy. It is strange, but it is true." + +I drew my hand away from her finger tips, for my own were shaking. +"Madame, what makes you happy?" + +She looked down at me with frank seriousness, but her eyes still kept +their sweet, strange brightness; she pressed her palms together as she +always did when much in earnest. + +"Monsieur, is it so strange after all? Think of the wonder of what I +see about me! The great stars, the dawns, and the strange waters that +go no one knows where. I have lived all my life in courts and have not +felt trammeled by them, but now---- Monsieur, there is a freedom, yes, +and a happiness stirring in me that I have not known. I wonder if you +understand?" + +I watched the starlight draw elfin lines across her face, and my heart +suddenly cried through my tongue words that my brain would have +forbidden. + +"I understand this at least. Madame, you talk of happiness. I am +finding happiness at this moment that I never felt at court,--no, nor +in the wilderness till now." + +She did not draw back nor protest, but she looked at me with wistful +gravity. + +"Monsieur---- Monsieur"---- + +"I am your servant, madame." + +She halted. "This is a masque, a comedy," she stumbled. "This--this +life in the greenwood. Does it not seem a fantasy?" + +"You seem very real to me, madame." + +"Monsieur, I tell you, it is a masque. Will you not help me play it as +such?" + +"You treat it as a masque in your own heart, madame?" + +She turned her face into the shadow. "I eat, I sleep, I laugh with the +birds, and I play with Singing Arrow. I do not look ahead." She rose. +"Play with me. Play it is a dream, monsieur." + +I rose and stepped beside her toward her cabin. "I am a man," I said, +with a short laugh of my own. "I cannot spin words nor cheat myself. +But I shall not distress you. Do not fear me, madame." + +But her step lingered. "You leave us soon?" + +"At dawn to-morrow." + +"Monsieur! And you go"---- + +"To the Winnebagoes. I shall return in a week." + +She clasped her hands behind her as if her white cloak bound her. "To +the Winnebagoes,--to another tribe of Indians! Are you sure that they +are friendly? I forget that there are Indians in the forest, since I +see none here. Ah, you must sleep now if you are to rise so early. +Good-night, and--thank you, monsieur. Good-night." I had hardly bowed +to her in turn before her long light step had brought her to her door. + +And then I went back to work. The furs had been sorted, labeled, and +cached; the canoe had been dried, and its splints examined and new +bales of merchandise had been made up for the trip on the morrow. But +there remained much writing and figuring to be gone over. It seemed as +if I had but closed my eyes when Labarthe touched me on the shoulder +and told me it was dawn. + +And out in the dawn I found the woman. She had seen to it that the +whole camp was astir, and the fire was crackling and the kettle already +puffing steam. The morning was austere and gray-veiled, so that the +red blaze was like the cheer of home. We ate with laughter, and sleepy +birds scolded in the thickets. The woman sparkled with dainty +merriment that held my thanks at bay. It was only when she waved her +adieus at the beach that she dropped her foils. + +"I shall pray for fair winds, monsieur," she called. + +I looked back at her across the widening water. "Madame, can you hear +me? The wind I pray for will blow me back to you." + +Metaphor aside, it was a favorable day and the breeze was with us. We +pushed up a tarpaulin on our paddles for a square sail, and covered the +distance to the west shore of La Baye in a few hours. Before night we +were lifting the rush mats that hung before the reed-thatched lodges of +the Winnebagoes. + +And here for seven days I plied my trade. A man has many coats and all +may fit him. The one that I wore in those days showed the bells and +ribands of the harlequin, but there was chain armor underneath. I +counted my results as satisfactory when I started home. + +We did not reach the camp on this second homecoming till after the +stars were out. That left me too few hours for a large labor, and I +had but hurried greetings from the woman while all the camp looked on. +The men were sleek from idleness, and I had need to goad them with word +and eye. It was late before I could linger at the woman's cabin and +beg a word. She sat with Singing Arrow, watching the soft night, and +again her first question was of her cousin. + +"You have heard nothing of Lord Starling?" + +Was this fear of him or a covert wish to meet him? "Nothing, madame," +I replied. "But I have been to the south far out of your cousin's way. +I go next to the Malhominis. I think I shall certainly hear tidings of +him there." + +"You go to-morrow?" + +"I must, madame. Madame, I have been anxious about you. Will you +promise me not to stray alone from the camp?" + +She left the cabin and came and stood beside me in the quiet and +starshine. She looked off at the forest. + +"Is there danger around us, monsieur?" + +I followed her look back into the dark timber. We both hushed our +breathing till we heard the moan of the water and the lament of some +strange night bird. The woman was so small, and yet I left her in the +wilderness without me! + +"Keep close to the camp," I said hoarsely. "No, I know of no danger. +But keep close to the camp." + +Her glance came back to me. "Ah, you do think there is danger! But, +monsieur, of yourself---- If there is peril for me there must be more +for you." + +She looked at me fully, with no fear in her eyes, but with quick, +intelligent concern. She stood beside me in the dusk, as wife should +stand with husband, and feared for my safety and forgot her own. Yet I +dared not touch her hand. I lifted my sword and slammed it in its +scabbard. + +"There is no danger," I said, with stupid brusqueness. "I am +over-anxious. I bid you good-night, madame." + +I went to the Malhominis with haste pushing me, for I hoped for news of +Starling. I pressed forward, yet I recoiled. There would be +cross-threads to untangle when I met my wife's cousin. + +It was wonderful voyaging to the Malhominis. Their village was near +the mouth of a river, and they were close bound with great rice swamps +that gave them their name. Our low canoe burrowed through a tunnel of +green as we nosed our way up to their camp. Birds fluttered in the +tangle, and fish bubbled to the surface under our paddles. I did not +wonder that I found the tribe as well fed as summer beavers. But I +learned nothing from them. They were a good-natured people, as running +over with talk as idle women, and they assured me that I was the first +white man they had seen since the moon of worms. We talked of the +Huron situation at Michillimackinac, but they said nothing of having +seen a warrior of that tribe, so I made sure that Pemaou had not been +with them. I swallowed relief and disappointment. They said that a +small company of Sacs was encamped to the north, and that Father Nouvel +was with them. So after a few days I went on. + +A waft of fetid air on a hot day will bring the smell of that Sac camp +to me even now. The Sacs were a migratory, brutish people, who +snatched at life red-handed and growling, and as I squatted in their +dirty hovels, I lost, like a dropped garment, all sense of the wonder +and freedom of my wilderness life. Suddenly all the forest seemed +squalid, and a longing for the soft ease and cleanliness of +civilization came on me like a wave. But I hid the feeling, and +lingered, though my welcome was but slight. Even my small cask of +brandy failed to buy their smiles, and it was only when I talked of war +that they listened. They were a useless people on the water, for they +could not handle canoes, but land warfare was their meat. So I talked +long. + +I found Father Nouvel among them, his delicate old face shining white +and serene amid their grime. I fell upon him eagerly, but he could +tell me nothing. He had left the Pottawatamies the day after the +wedding, and had heard no rumors of any Englishman. I did not take him +into my confidence. He had outlived the time when the abstract terms +"ambition" and "patriotism" had meaning to him. The story of my hopes +would have tinkled in his ears like the blarings of a child's trumpet. +But in one matter he questioned me. + +"Your wife,--should you not have brought her with you, monsieur?" + +I felt piqued. "But her comfort, Father Nouvel!" + +He looked me over. "I think somehow that she would prefer your company +to her own comfort," he said, and when I did not answer he looked +troubled. When he bade me good-by, he spoke again. + +"Your wife came strangely near my heart. You are giving her a hard +life. You will be patient with her, monsieur?" + +I bowed, for I did not wish to answer. Mine was a real marriage to +Father Nouvel. I thought of the look in the priest's eyes as he made +us man and wife, and of the voices of the Indian women as they chanted +of life and marriage, and I shut my teeth on a sudden feeling of +bitterness. A man may be counted rich yet know himself to be a pauper. +I never saw Father Nouvel again. If he were living now I would go far +to meet him. + +It was a long day's travel back to Sturgeon Cove, and night had fallen +before we wound our passage around the curves of the bay and saw the +clear eye of the evening fire burning steadily on the shore. Our +double trip had taken eleven days, and for me the time had lagged. I +had carried an unreasoning weight of oppression, and the shout that I +gave at sight of the black figures around the blaze was an outburst of +relief. + +My company flung themselves at the shore, and all talked at once. + +"For three days we have watched," Singing Arrow scolded. + +The woman stood near, and I went to her. "Have you watched for three +days?" I asked, with my lips on her hand. + +"Yes," she said, and then I felt ashamed, for her eyes looked worn and +troubled. + +"Forgive me, madame," I murmured, though I scarcely knew for what, and +I felt embarrassed and without words. + +"I will stay here to-morrow," I said stupidly, and when she said that +she was glad, it did not seem to me that she meant it. I saw her no +more that night. + +But with the fresh morning I forgot all chill. We lingered over a +breakfast of broiled bass, and the woman showed me a canoe that Simon +had made for her. Simon was the deft-fingered member of my crew, and +he had fashioned a fairy craft. I saw that it would carry two, and I +said to the woman that we would take it, and have a day of idleness +together. I feared she might demur, but she did not. Indeed, she +suddenly laughed out like a child without much reason, and there was +that in the sound that satisfied me, until I swore at the men and their +blundering to keep down my own joy. + +We took materials for lunch and started before the dew was dry. The +woman showed me her new skill with the paddle, and I praised her +without care for my conscience. We went slowly and we talked much. +Yet we talked only of the birds and the woods and the paddling. Never +of ourselves. + +At noon we landed in a pocket of an inlet on the south side of the cove +toward its mouth. There was a wonderful meadow there with tiger lilies +burning like blood and a giant sycamore leaning to the water. I cooked +a venison steak on hot stones, and we had maize cakes and wild berries +and water from a spring. We sat alone at meat as we had never done. + +After lunch the woman sat under the sycamore and I lay at her feet. I +looked up at her till her eyes dropped. + +"Madame," I whispered, "madame, you were vexed with me last night." + +She forced her glance to mine. "Monsieur, I had been terribly anxious +for three days. When I saw you"---- + +A sun ray fell across her face, and I took my hat and held it between +her and the light. "You did not finish," I said. "I will help you. +When you saw that I was safe you were vexed that I had not come earlier +and so saved you anxiety? Is that what you were about to say, madame?" + +She turned to smile and shake her head at my seriousness. She fought +down her rising color and held her head like a gallant boy. + +"I was unreasonable," she said. "Please forget it. Did your trading +prosper, monsieur?" + +But I would not shift my eyes. "I shall try not to vex you again in +that way. I did not think--except of my own anxiety. Let me tell you +what I have been doing. I have been trading, yes, but I have also"---- + +"Careful, monsieur!" + +"I wish you to know. Madame, I am succeeding in my intriguing among +the tribes. I talk more than I trade. You would smile at my rhetoric +and call me a mountebank, but I am succeeding. I tell the tribes that +when more than one Englishman reaches here the whole race will follow +and will overflow the hunting grounds as a torrent does the lowlands. +I tell them the English will bring the Iroquois. I show them that the +French are their only protection. They listen, for what I say is not +new. It has been talked around their fires for a long time, but the +tribes are not powerful enough to act alone, and they have lacked a +leader who could unite them. I think that they will follow me if I +call them to war, madame!" + +She looked at me steadily. "War upon whom, monsieur?" + +"War upon the Iroquois. Upon the English if they venture near." + +"And you tell me this because"---- + +"Because I wish sincerity between us." + +My hat lay at her feet, and she pressed its sorry plume between her +fingers. "Monsieur, if you had heard news of Lord Starling during this +last week you would have told me at once." + +"I should have told you at once, madame. I am glad you introduced this +matter. Does your mind still hold? Or do you now think that we should +seek your cousin?" + +Again she lowered her eyes, but I did not miss the sudden flash in +them. "My cousin chose his path. Why need we interfere? Have +you--have you theories as to where he can be?" + +I flicked my finger at a wandering robin. "I am as guiltless of +theories as that bird. It is passing strange. Your cousin and our +ghostly Huron seem to have gone up in vapor." + +"Our ghostly Huron, monsieur?" + +I planted my elbows on the grass that I might face her. "Listen, +madame. It is time you knew the story of Pemaou." And thereupon I +recited all that had happened between the Huron and myself from the day +when we had played at shuttlecock with spears till the night when he +had shadowed us at the Pottawatamie camp,--the night before our +wedding. I even told her of the profile in his pouch. + +She winced at that. "Why did you not tell me before?" + +"It seemed useless to alarm you." + +"But you tell me now." + +I smiled at her. "I know you better. It seems fitting to tell you +everything now, madame." + +She looked at me with a frown of worry. "Monsieur, you are in danger +from that Huron. He hates you if you humbled him." + +I laughed at her. "He would not dare harm a Frenchman, madame." + +"Then why does he follow you?" + +But there I could only shrug. "He was probably in Lord Starling's pay, +and was keeping track of us that he might direct your cousin to us. +But we have shaken him off." + +She thought this over for some time without speaking, and I was content +to lie silent at her feet. Bees droned in the flowers and white drifts +of afternoon clouds floated over us. I was happy in the moment, and +more than that, I was drugged with my dreams of the future. There were +days and days and days before us. This was but the threshold. And +then, with my ear to the ground, I heard the sound of an axe. The +sound of an axe in an untraveled wilderness! + +I crowded closer to the ground. My blood beat in my temples, and I was +awake with every muscle. But I learned nothing. The sound of an axe +and then silence. + +The woman looked at me. "Monsieur, is something wrong? Your face has +changed." + +I stretched out my hand to her. "You must not grow fanciful. But +come. It is time to go home, madame." + +I pushed her into the canoe in haste, but when we had once rounded the +turn of the bluff we floated home slowly. The light of late afternoon +is warm and yellow. It cradled the woman in lapping waves, and she sat +glowing and fragrant, and her eyes were mirrors of the light. I +dropped my paddle. + +"Tell me more about yourself. Talk to me. Tell me of your childhood," +I breathed. + +She put out her hand. "Monsieur! Our contract!" + +I let the canoe drift. "Madame; tell me the truth. Why do you hold +yourself so detached from me? Is it---- Madame, is it because you +fear that we shall learn to love each other,--to love against our +wills?" + +She looked down. "It would be a tragedy if we did, monsieur." + +"You would think it a tragedy to learn to love me?" + +"It could be nothing else, monsieur." + +The breeze took us where it willed. The mother-of-pearl shimmer of +evening was turning the headlands to mist, and the air smelled of cedar +and pine. Tiny waves lapped complainingly on the sides of our rocking +canoe. I leaned forward. + +"Listen, madame, you know life. You know how little is often given +under the bond of marriage. You know how men and women live long lives +together though completely sundered in heart, and how others though +separated in life walk side by side in the spirit. As this is so, why +do you fear to see or know too much of me? Propinquity does not create +love." + +Still she looked down. "Men say that it does, monsieur." + +"Then why are so many marriages unhappy? No, madame, you know better +than that. And you know that if love should grow between us it would +sweep away your toy barriers like paper. Nearness or absence would not +affect it. Madame, let me have your hand." + +"No, no! Monsieur, I do not know you." + +"You shall know me better. Come, what is a hand? There. Madame, +would you prefer, from now on, to travel in hardship with me rather +than be left in comfort here?" + +"I should indeed, monsieur." + +"Then you shall go with me." + +"But your work, monsieur!" + +I released her hand and picked up my paddle. "I see that Indian tribes +are not my only concern," I explained. "I have other matters to +conquer. We shall not be separated from now on." + +She did not answer, and I paddled home in silence with my eyes on her +face. As we landed, she gave me her hand. + +"I do not care for supper, and am going to my house. Good-night, +monsieur." + +I bowed over her hand. "Are you glad that you are to travel with me +and know me better? Are you glad, madame?" + +She smiled a little. "I--I think so, monsieur." + +"You are not sure? Think of it to-night. Perhaps you will tell me +to-morrow. Will you tell me to-morrow, madame?" + +She drew back into the dusk. "Perhaps--to-morrow. Good-night, +monsieur." + +I walked through the meadow. I would not eat supper and I would not +work. Finally I called Simon. He was a strange, quiet man, not as +strong as the others of the crew, but of use to me for his knowledge of +woodcraft. As a boy he had been held captive by the Mohawks, and he +was almost as deft of hand and eye as they. + +"Have you seen any sign or sound of Indian or white men in these three +weeks?" I asked him. + +He looked at me rather sullenly. "Yes. A canoe went through here one +night about a week ago." + +"Who was in it?" + +"I do not know." + +"You should have followed." + +"I did." + +"You should have reported to me." + +He glowered at me with the eye of a rebellious panther. "I watched. +The master went away." Then he showed his teeth in open defiance. "I +watched every night on the beach. The master slept or went away." + +I opened my mouth to order him under guard, but I did not form the +words. I thought of the way that he had spent his days working on the +delicately fashioned canoe and his nights in keeping guard. And all +for the woman. Women make mischief in the wilderness. I grew pitiful. + +"Watch again to-night," I said kindly, "and you shall sleep to-morrow. +Simon, I thought that I heard the sound of an axe off the south shore +to-day. I shall take the small canoe at daybreak and see what I can +find. Tell the camp I have gone fishing. I shall return by noon. +And, Simon"---- + +"Yes, master." + +"Madame de Montlivet is your special care till I return." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +IN THE MIST + +I slipped off in grayness the next morning. There was a water fog that +hugged me clammily, and sounds echoed in it as in a metal canopy. I +could not have found my way in open water, but here I could crowd tight +to the shore and keep my bearings. I took a keg of pitch with me, for +when I saw the weather I knew that I would give the canoe many a scrape +on rocks and snags. + +It was tedious traveling, and it seemed a long time before I made my +worming way around every inequality in the shore and reached the inlet +where we had eaten lunch. Here I lifted the canoe, turned it bottom +side up in the meadow, and covered it with a sailcloth. I wanted it to +dry, and the air was still dripping moisture. I had expected the fog +to lift before this, but it seemed to be growing heavier. + +I tried to light my pipe, but the tobacco was damp and would not burn. +Slow drops dribbled from the trees and the meadow was soggy. Where +should I go? I could hear nothing, and as for seeing anything I could +have passed my own camp a rod away. It began to seem a fool's errand. +I thought of returning. + +Perhaps it was a boyish feeling that took me to the sycamore. I looked +about. The ashes of our little fire still lay in a rounded pile, and +at the edge of the pile, printed deep in the yielding surface, was a +moccasin print. It was not the woman's moccasin, nor my own boot. One +look showed me that. + +And then I went over the surrounding ground. I learned nothing, for +pebbles and short grass are as non-committal as a Paris pavement. The +print had been made before the mist fell, for the dew was unbrushed. I +looked at the encircling forest, and its dripping uniformity gave no +clue. I knocked the charred tobacco from my pipe, pulled my hat down +on my ears, and plunged straight ahead. + +It was a fool's way of going at the matter, but a fool has as good a +chance as a philosopher in such a case. I clove my way through the +mist as blind and breathless as a swimmer in a breaker. The forest was +thickly grown and the trees stood about me as alike as water-reeds. +Whenever I touched one it pelted me with drops, and I was numbed with +cold. My feet slipped, for the ground was slimy with wet. But I was +not thinking of comfort, nor of speed. I was listening. + +For the strange, gray air was trembling with echoes. Every snapped +twig, every bird murmur, every brush of a padded foot on leaf mould was +multiplied many-fold. The fog was a sounding-board. All the spectral +space around me, above me, below me was quivering and talking. My very +breath was peopled with murmurs. I have been in many fogs, but none +like this one. If the spirits of the dead should revisit us, they +would whisper, I think, as the air whispered around me then. + +How long I groped, learning nothing, I do not know, for when the mind +forgets the body minutes may be long or short, and no count is taken of +them. But at last among the noises that knocked at my ear came a new +note. I heard a human voice. + +And then, indeed, I pressed all my faculties into service. I put my +ear to the wet ground and strained it against tree trunks, trying to +weed out the myriad tiny whisperings that assailed me and grasp that +one sound that I wanted and hold it clear. And at last I heard it +unmistakably; there were voices, more than one it seemed. + +My ears buzzed with my effort to listen. I heard the sound, lost it, +then heard it again. It was like a child's game. I heard it, +blundered after it, then it disappeared. I turned to go back, and it +came behind and mocked me. It was everywhere and nowhere. It came +near, then faded into silence. The fog suffocated me; I found myself +pressing at it with my hands. + +Yet on the whole I made progress. In time the voices grew clearer. +There were several of them, perhaps many. I heard shouting,--orders, +presumably,--and once a clink of metal,--an iron kettle it might have +been. But the sound was back of me, in front of me, at the sides of +me, above me. I could not hold it. It reverberated like the drumming +of a woodcock that comes to the ear from four quarters at once. And +all the time the fog pressed on my eyelids like a hand. + +I had left my musket hidden under the canoe, for I could not have used +it in the dampness, so I had only my knife for guard. I carried it +open, and made an occasional notch upon a tree. Once I came to a +notched tree a second time. The old woodland madness was on me, and I +was stepping in circles. Yet the sounds were growing clearer. They +were approaching, though I could not tell from what quarter. I stood +still. + +What followed was like a dream; like the dream that I had had the night +after the storm when I woke with sweat cold on me. The fog pinioned me +like a clammy winding-sheet; I could see nothing; I was too chilled to +feel; I was as alone and powerless as a lost canoe in the ocean; but +somewhere on earth or in air I heard a company of men pass me by. The +sounds were unmistakable. I heard the swish of wet leaves, the pad of +feet, and even the creak of the damp leather of the carrying-straps. +Something cracked, pricking in my ears in a blur of sound, and I knew +that the men had brushed a branch with the canoe that they were +carrying on their heads. They were near me; at any moment they might +come within touch of my hand. But where were they? Whoever they were, +whatever they were, the wish to see them became an obsession. I knew +no feeling but my tingling to get at them. I pushed to right and left. +I knocked against trees. The sounds were here, then there. I could +not reach them. They taunted me as lost spirits tantalize a soul in +purgatory. Whichever way I turned they were just out of my grasp. I +clenched my hands and swore that I would not be beaten. + +But my pitiful little oath was all bluster and impotent defiance. I +was as helpless as a squirming puppy held by the neck. I ran like a +madman, but I ran the wrong way. The invisible crew passed me, and +their voices faded. I heard them melt, melt into nothing. A sound, an +impression,--that had been all. Not even a gray shadow on the fog to +show that I had not been dreaming. I looked at my skinned knuckles and +disordered clothes, and a strange feeling shook me. A certain rashness +of temperament had all my life made me contemptuous of fear. But this +was different. I tried to laugh at myself, but could not. + +It was a simple matter to retrace my route, for I had left a trail like +a behemoth's. And one thought I chewed all the way back to the meadow. +If I could have done it over again I should have called, and so have +drawn whatever thing it was toward me. That would have been dangerous, +and I might have paid the forfeit of a head that was not my own to part +with, but at least I should have seen what thing it was that passed me +in the fog. There began to be something that was not wholly sound and +sane in the depth of my feeling that I ought, at whatever cost, to have +confronted that noise and forced it to declare itself. + +When I came to the meadow it was wet and spectral. The fog had lifted +somewhat and now the air was curiously luminous. It appeared +transparent, as if the vision could pierce far-stretching reaches, but +when I tried to peer ahead I found my glance baffled a few feet away. +It was as if the world ended suddenly, exhaled in grayness, just beyond +the reach of my hand. It made objects remote and unreal and singularly +shining. I looked toward the sycamore, and my heart beat fast for a +moment, for I thought that a pool of fresh blood lay in the grass where +the woman and I had sat the day before. But I looked again and saw +that it was only the bunch of red lilies that she had plucked and worn +and thrown away. I had told her that their red was the color of war, +and she had let them drop to the ground. I went to them and picked +them up, and they left heavy, scarlet stains upon my fingers. + +When I went to the canoe I found it still damp, but I uncovered it and +went to work to do what I could with the frayed seams. An unreasoning +haste had possession of me, and I worked fumblingly and badly, like a +man with fear behind him. Yet I was not afraid. I was consumed by the +feeling that I must get back to camp and to the woman without delay. + +Kneeling to my work with my back to the forest, strange noises came +behind and begged attention. But I would not look up. I had had +enough of visions and whisperings and a haunted wood. I wanted my +canoe and my paddle and a chance to shoot straight and to get home. +For already I thought of the camp as home, and of this meadow as a +place where I had been held for a long time. It was a strange morning. + +And so it was that even when I heard the thud, thud of a man's step +behind me I did not turn. A man's step is unlike an animal's, and I +had no doubt in my heart that a man was coming. But let him come to +me. My immediate and pressing concern was to repair my canoe that I +might get to camp, and I would squander neither movement nor eyesight +till that was done. A few moments before it had seemed a vital matter +to find what creatures they were that whispered and rustled past me in +the grayness. Now my anxiety was transferred. + +The echoing fog played witchcraft with the step as it had done with the +other noises. The sound came, came, came,--a steady, moderate note; no +haste, no dallying, no indecision. Quiet, purposeful, controlled, it +sounded; that pace, pace, that came through the twig-carpeted timber. +The Greek Fates were pictured as moving with just that even +relentlessness of stride. Yet in life, so far as I have seen it, +tragedies commonly pounce upon us, like a wolfish cat upon her prey, +and we find ourselves stunned and mangled before we gather dignity to +meet the blow. I thought of this, in an incoherent, muddy way, as the +step came nearer. And I worked with hurrying hands at the canoe. + +Then came a voice. No whispering, no rustling, nothing vague and +formless and haunting, but a low, commanding call:-- + +"Bonjour, mon ami." + +I did not start. If I turned slowly it was because I knew what was +waiting me, and was adjusting several possibilities to meet it. It was +a man's voice that called, yet its every inflection was familiar, +familiar as the beating of my heart. For madame, my wife, had called +to me more or less often in the twin of that voice with its slurring +deliberateness and its insolent disregard of the pitfall accents of a +foreign tongue. And now I turned to meet her cousin, the man whom she +had promised to marry; the man who had deserted her to the knives of +savages; the man whom she despised and yet feared, and who now called +to me in a voice that was hers and yet was not; that haunted and +repelled, all in one. I did not think out any of this by rule and +line. I only knew that I dreaded meeting this man who was stepping, +stepping into my life through the fog, and that I turned to meet him +with my heart like ice but my brain on fire. + +I had ado to keep my tongue from exclaiming when I turned. I do not +know why I expected the man to be small, except that I myself am overly +large, and that I was looking for him to be my antithesis in every way. +But the figure that loomed toward me out of the luminous mist dwarfed +my own stature. Never had my eyes seen so powerful a man. Long and +swinging as an elk, he had the immense, humped shoulders of a buffalo +and the length of arm of a baboon. His head would have sat well on +some rough bronze coin of an early day. Semitic in type he looked, +with his eagle-beaked nose and prominent cheek bones, but the blue of +his eyes was English. They were intelligent eyes. + +He looked at me a moment, and I stood silent for his initiative. I +remembered that I was dressed roughly, was torn and rumpled by my +contest with the forest, and that I must appear an out-at-elbows +_coureur de bois_. He would not know me for the man he was seeking. I +waited for him to ask my name, and selected one to give him that was my +own and yet was not M. de Montlivet. Since names cannot be sold nor +squandered, my father had bequeathed me a plethora of them. + +But I credited the Englishman with too little acuteness. He stepped +forward. "This is Monsieur de Montlivet?" + +I could do no less than bow, but I kept my hand by my side. "And you, +monsieur?" + +He smiled as at one indulging a childish skirmish of wits; but +controlled as his face was, I could see the relief that overspread it +at my admission. "My name is Starling. I have a packet for you, +monsieur," and he handed me Cadillac's letter. + +I hated the farce of the whole affair, and when I ran my eye over +Cadillac's message, which I could forecast word for word, I felt like a +play-acting fool. But I read it and put it in my pocket. + +"You have had a long trip, Lord Starling," I said, with some show of +courtesy. "It is new to see a man of your nation in this land!" + +He waved me and my words into limbo. + +"Where is the Englishman,--the prisoner?" + +A folded blanket lay beside the canoe, and I shook it out and spread it +on the dew-drenched grass. "Will you sit, Lord Starling? Forgive me +if I smoke. It is unusual grace to meet a man of my own station, and I +would enjoy it in my own way. Will you do the same? I see you have +your pipe." + +He swung his great arm like a war club. "Where is the prisoner?" + +I sat on the red blanket and filled my pipe. "I know of no prisoner." + +I thought he would have broken into oaths, but instead he shrugged his +shoulders. He walked to the other side of the blanket, and I saw that +he limped painfully. Then he sat down opposite me, his great turtle +neck standing up between his humping shoulders. With all his size and +ugliness he was curiously well finished,--a personality. He was a man +to sway men and women. I felt it as I felt his likeness to his cousin, +a likeness that I could not put my finger on but that I knew was there. +Small wonder that she dreaded him. He was a replica in heavy lines of +the sterner traits in her own nature. He had something of her +curiously winning quality, too. Did she feel that? She had promised +to marry him. I lit my pipe and smoked, and waited for him to declare +himself. + +He did it with his glance hard on me. "You are playing for time. Is +that worthy your very evident intelligence, monsieur, since you can +protract the game only the matter of a few hours at most? I have +Cadillac's warrant for the prisoner." + +I smoked. I felt no haste for speech. What I had to say would make a +brutal, tearing wound, and I hugged my sense of power and gloated over +it like an Iroquois. A woman was between us, and I knew no mercy. + +My silence appeared to amuse him. He studied me and looked unhurried +and reflective. He stretched out a long, yellow arm in simulation of +contented weariness. "I wonder why you wish to keep the prisoner with +you longer," he marveled. + +And then I laughed. I looked him full in the face and laughed again. +"But I have no prisoner. Unless, indeed, matrimony be a sort of +bondage. I travel with my wife, with Madame de Montlivet, née +Starling, monsieur." + +I knew that I had cut him in a vital part, but he held himself well. +An oath burst from him, but it did not move his great, immobile face +into betraying lines. Yet when he tried to speak his voice trailed off +in an unmeaning rattle. He tried twice, and his hands were +sweat-beaded. Then he heaved his great bulk upward and stood over me, +his baboon arms reaching for my throat. + +"The marriage was honest? Speak." + +I could respect that feeling. "Father Nouvel married us," I replied. +"We found him at the Pottawatamie Islands. I marvel that you did not +hear news of us from there, monsieur." + +He sank back on the blanket. "I did not go there. I sprained my +ankle." He talked still with that curious rattling in his voice. "I +lost time and the damned Indians left me. When did you discover"---- + +"I married madame as soon as I discovered. Monsieur, you are of her +family. I can assure you that I have shown your cousin all the respect +and consideration in my power." + +He looked at me as if I were some smirking carpet knight who prated of +conventions when a man was dying. + +"Where is she?" + +"In my camp, monsieur." + +"Take me to her." + +"Monsieur, I must refuse." + +He opened his mouth with a look that cursed me, but before the words +came he thought twice and changed his front. He spoke calmly. "I am +her guardian and her cousin. I was her intended husband. You are a +gentleman. I ask you to bring me to my cousin, monsieur." + +His tone of calm possession fired me, I remembered what he was, and I +enumerated his titles in order. + +"Yes. You are the guardian who would have married her for her estates; +you are the cousin who played the poltroon and outraged her pride of +family; you are the lover who abandoned her,--abandoned her to torture +and the tomahawk. Is it strange that it is her wish never to see you? +You will spare your pride some hurts if you avoid her in the future, +monsieur." + +The great face turned yellow to the eyes. "She told you this?" + +"I am no mind reader, monsieur." + +And then he turned away. I took one glimpse of his face and knew it +was not decent to look a second time. He had done a hideous thing, but +he was having a hideous punishment. Nature had formed him for a proud +man, and he had lived arrogantly, secure of homage. I wondered now +that he could live at all. + +And so I went to work at the canoe, and waited till he should turn to +me. When he did it was with a child's plea for pity, and the +abjectness of his tone was horrible, coming from a man of his girth and +power. + +"You might have done the same thing yourself, monsieur." + +I bowed. I could not but toss him that bone of comfort, for it was the +truth. Sometimes a spring snaps suddenly in a man, and he becomes a +brute. How could I boast that I would be immune? + +"But I would have shot myself the moment after," I said. + +He had regained his level. "Then you would have been a double coward. +I shall do better." + +"You think to reinstate yourself?" + +"I know that I shall reinstate myself. Monsieur, I throw myself upon +your courtesy. I ask to be taken to my cousin." + +"No, monsieur. I follow my wife's wishes." + +"I loved her, monsieur." + +My pity of the moment before was gone like vapor. I looked up from my +canoe, and took the man's measure. "I think not. You loved something, +I grant. Her wit, perhaps, her money, the pleasure she gave your +epicure's taste. But you did not love her, the woman. My God, if you +loved her how could you endure to scatter her likeness broadcast among +the savages as you did? To make that profile, that mouth, that chin, +the jest and property of a greasy Indian! No, you shall not see my +wife, monsieur." + +He changed no line at my outburst. "Then I shall follow by force. I +shall sit here till you move, monsieur." + +I shrugged. "A rash promise. Are your provisions close at hand?" + +He looked at me steadfastly. "Then you absolutely refuse to take me to +her?" + +"I refuse." + +"Yet I shall reach her." + +I took moss from my pocket and calked a seam with some precision. I +did not speak. + +"You think that I cannot reach her?" + +I smiled. There was a womanish vein in the man that he should press me +in this fashion for a useless answer. I began to see his weakness as +well as his obvious strength. I waited till he asked yet again. + +"You think that I shall not be able to reach your wife, monsieur?" + +And then I shrugged and examined him over my pipe-bowl. "Yes, you will +reach her, I think. You have a certain persistence that often wins +small issues,--seldom large ones. But I shall not help you." + +"I shall stay here till you go." + +"Then we shall be companions for some time. May I offer you tobacco, +monsieur?" + +He smiled, though wryly and against his will. It was plain that we +were taking a certain saturnine enjoyment out of the situation. We +could hate each other well, and we were doing it, but we were both +starved for men's talk,--the talk of equals. + +"It seems a pity to detain you," he mused. "You are obviously on +business. When I came up behind you I thought that I had never seen a +man work in such a frenzy of haste. There was sweat on your forehead." + +I waved my pipe at him. I had the upper hand, and I felt cruelly +jovial. "It was haste to meet you," I assured him. "I missed you in +the fog, and feared you would reach camp before me." + +"You feared me, monsieur?" + +I felt an unreasoning impulse to be candid with him. The strange, +choking terror had swept back at that instant, and again it had me by +the throat. Yet here sat the cause of my terror before me, and he was +in my power. + +"I feared your Indians." I spoke gravely. "Handle those Hurons +carefully, monsieur. It is a tricky breed." + +"But I have no"---- He stopped, and looked at me strangely. "What +made you think that I was near?" + +"For one thing I heard your axe yesterday." + +"But yesterday I was five leagues from here." + +I whistled through my teeth. I hate a useless lie. "I heard your +axe," I reiterated. "This morning you and your men passed me in the +fog." + +He stared at me, then at the forest. "Monsieur, I have no men!" + +"What?" + +"I came alone." + +"Monsieur, you are lying." + +"It is you who are mad. Take your hands away!" + +"I will let you go when you tell me the truth. Remember, your men +passed me this morning." + +"I tell you, I came alone." + +"Where are your Indians that Cadillac sent with you?" + +"I sprained my ankle and they left me." + +"Where did they go?" + +"How should I know? I tell you they left me." + +"Was Pemaou, the Huron, one of them?" + +"He was guide. Monsieur, what do you mean?" + +I could not answer. My throat was dry as if I breathed a furnace +blast. I looked at the canoe under my hands. It was not seaworthy. +"Will your canoe carry two?" I cried. + +He nodded. His great rough face was sickly with suspense. "Monsieur, +what does this mean?" + +I swore at him and at the hour he had made me lose. "Men passed me in +a fog. They have been hiding here for a day at least. Show me your +canoe. We must get to camp. Yes, come with me. Come, show me your +canoe." + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +WHAT I FOUND + +Once in the canoe I bade Lord Starling crouch low, and I paddled +fiercely. I breathed hard not from exertion, but like a swimmer +fighting for his breath. I was submerged in waves of terror, yet I had +no name for what I feared. I learned then that there is but one real +terror in the world,--fear of the unseen. The man who feels terror of +an open foe must be a strange craven. + +Lord Starling respected my mood and was silent. He sat warily, +shifting his weight to suit the plunging canoe. + +"The fog chokes me," he said at length. "How large a camp have you? +Whom did you leave on guard?" + +I told him. + +"That should be sufficient." + +"Not for a concerted attack." + +"But who would make a concerted attack?" + +I lengthened my stroke till the canoe quivered. "I am not sure. I +have been shadowed. I thought it was by your order. I cannot talk and +paddle, monsieur." + +But I could paddle and think. And always I saw the meadow as we had +found it that first day with drifts of white butterflies over the +flowers, and the woods warm and beckoning. How would the meadow look +now? + +But when we came to it I thought it looked unchanged, save that the fog +made all things sinister. We crashed through the guarding reeds, and I +let the canoe drive hard upon the sand. No one was in sight, and a +wolf was whining at the edge of the timber. I leaped to the shore. + +I think that I called as I stumbled forward. I saw the ashes of a dead +fire, and a cask that had held rum lying with the sides and end knocked +in. Then I saw a dead body. + +I did not hasten then. My feet crawled. The body lay sprawled and +limp with its out-stretched fingers clutching. One hand pointed toward +the woman's cabin. + +I turned the corpse over. It was Simon. His scarlet head was still +dripping, but his face was untouched. I saw that he had died +despairing, and I laid him back with a prayer on my lips but with the +lust to kill in my heart. + +I went through the cabins quickly but methodically. I think that I +made no sound of grief or excitement, but I knew indefinitely that Lord +Starling was following me, and that, at horribly measured intervals, he +gave short, panting groans. But I did not speak to him, nor he to me. + +I spoke for the first time at the woman's cabin. I looked within and +saw that it was untouched; then I put out my arm and barred Lord +Starling's way. + +"I have never stepped in here, and you shall not," I told him with my +jaws set, and I think that I struck him across the face, though of that +I have never been quite sure. + +In my own lodge I found havoc. Bales had been broken open, and my +papers were thrown and trampled. Many of the papers were blood-smeared. + +I examined every cabin and every bale, then went to the ashes of the +camp fire and stood still. Lord Starling followed, and I heard his +smothered groan. I took out my knife. + +"I shall kill you if you make that noise again," I said. + +I think that I spoke quietly, but he stepped back. I saw that he was +afraid,--afraid of losing his miserable, mistaken life,--and I laughed. +I laughed for a long time. Hearing myself laugh, I knew that it +sounded as if I were near insanity, but I was not. My head had never +been clearer. + +Perhaps Lord Starling conquered his fear. He came nearer and lifted +his magnificent, compelling bulk above me. + +"Listen!" he began. "We have been foes; we shall be again; but now we +are knit closer than eye and brain in a common cause. I will deal with +you with absolute truth as with my own right hand. Tell me. Tell me, +in God's mercy! What do you know? Who did this? What can we do?" + +His voice was judicial, but I saw his great frame swaying like a +shambling ox. I marveled that he could show emotion. My own body felt +dead. + +"The woman has been taken away," my stiff, strange voice explained. +"So far they have not harmed her." + +"How do you know?" + +"There are no marks of struggle. Simon resisted, and they killed him. +The other men surrendered. The Indians wanted prisoners, not scalps." + +"Was it Pemaou and his Hurons?" + +"Yes." + +"You are sure?" + +"He left a broken spear in my lodge. There was bad blood between us +once, and I broke the spear in two and tossed the pieces at him, +telling him to keep them,--to keep them, for we should meet again. I +humbled him. Now it is his jest. He is a capable Indian. He seems to +have outwitted even you, monsieur." + +Because I spoke as one dead he thought I needed leading. He took me by +the arm and would have guided me gently to the canoe. + +"Come, Monsieur de Montlivet, you must rouse yourself. We must start +in pursuit." + +I shook him off. "Sit here where it is dry. You need your strength. +We have hours to get through here before we leave, and little to do to +help us through the time. We must wait here for Pierre." + +"What do you mean? We must go at once." + +"No, we wait for Pierre. It may be dusk before he returns. I sent him +over the portage yesterday with orders to explore some leagues to the +south. We must wait for him. He can tell us whether Pemaou went east +by way of the portage." + +"But we lose time!" + +"We gain it. If Pemaou did not go by way of the portage, he went west. +He would not dare go north, for fear of the Pottawatamies, and he would +have no object in going south. He went east or west. We can learn +from Pierre." + +The man's shoulders heaved. "Your men were cowards," he muttered. + +I looked at him. So a coward could despise a coward! "My men were +wise," I corrected. "With Simon killed there were only two men +left,--one, rather, for Leclerc is a nonentity. Labarthe, left alone, +was wise to surrender. He is skillful with Indians. Monsieur, tell me +of your dealings with Pemaou. Tell me your trip here. I need details." + +He measured me. "You dictate, monsieur?" + +I pointed to Simon's body. "That is my claim." + +He gulped at that, and turned his back on the red horror to fix his +steady, critical gaze on my face. "After the massacre," he began, with +an effort, "I followed many false trails. I went to Quebec, to +Montreal. All this has nothing to do with what you wish to know. But +at Montreal I first heard rumors of an English prisoner who was being +carried westward. That sent me to Michillimackinac." + +"You heard this rumor through the priests?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"I thought so. It is fortunate for the success of your somewhat +complicated plans that you are a Catholic and a Jacobite." + +"Is there a slur in that remark, monsieur?" + +"Not unless the facts themselves are insulting, Our priests would see +no hidden purpose in your story. They would be predisposed in favor of +a Catholic and follower of James. They would give you letters where a +commandant would not. It was good policy to go to them." + +"But, monsieur, I am a Catholic!" + +"Which, I repeat, is fortunate." + +"Monsieur, this is wanton insult. Are you trying to pick a quarrel +with me here, here with this tragedy around us? It is a dog's trick. +I will not fight you." + +Again I took out my knife. "I will not fight you here,--here with this +tragedy around us,--but I may kill you. I shall do it if you do not +tell me this story fairly. I care nothing for your life, and I need +this story. I will have it if I have to choke it out of your throat." + +"I am trying to tell you the story, monsieur." + +"No. You are telling me a pleasant fairy tale of a love-lorn knight +searching the wilderness for his lost mistress. A moving tale, +monsieur, but not the true one. I want the real story. The story of +the English spy who wishes to ransom his cousin, but who also treats +secretly with the Hurons,--who treats with Pemaou, monsieur. Tell me +his story." + +His face did not alter. "You believe me a spy?" + +"I have reason, monsieur." + +Still he regarded me. "You might be right, but you are not. Monsieur, +I am a broken man. I want nothing but my cousin. If there is intrigue +around me I do not know it. I am telling you the truth." + +I fought hard against the man's fascination, his splendid, ruined pomp. +"You must have a code," I burst out. "There must be something you hold +dear. Will you swear to me by the name of the woman that you have not +had secret dealings with the Hurons?" + +"I swear." + +"But the profile that the Huron carried!" + +"Those pictures I scattered broadcast. You will find them among the +Algonquins, and the Ottawas of the upper river. My cousin has a +distinctive profile. I offered rewards for news of any one--man or +woman--who looked like the face that I had drawn." + +I put out my hand. "I hope that I have wronged you, monsieur." + +He bowed and touched my fingers. His own were icy, yet he shivered at +the chill of mine. "Pemaou would not dare harm the woman. Monsieur de +Montlivet, you know Indians. Surely Pemaou would not dare?" + +I gripped my knife. "No man knows Indians! Where did you see Pemaou +first?" + +"At Michillimackinac. When I reached there and learned that the +prisoner had gone with you I sent interpreters through the camps with +offers of reward for news of your whereabouts. Pemaou came. He said +he could locate you and I took him as guide." + +"He selected his own escort?" + +"Yes." + +"And you traveled slowly?" + +"Very slowly." + +I fingered my pipe and bit hard at its stem. "Pemaou has played +carefully. He had the woman captured and brought to camp. The time +was not ripe for him to use her, so he let me carry her away. But he +has had me shadowed. You played well into his hands, for you furnished +blankets and provisions. He had no intention of letting you find us. +We are equal dupes. I see that I wronged you, monsieur." + +He looked down, his breath laboring. I could look at him now without +recoil, for a common humiliation bound us. We were white and we had +been tricked by a savage. We sat in heavy silence. + +At last Starling spoke dully. "Why did Pemaou wait so long?" + +I gripped my knife the closer. "That we shall learn when we learn what +he has done with the woman." + +He looked up with his jaw shaking. "Monsieur, we must make haste." + +But I shook my head. "Monsieur, no. We must await Pierre." + +The fog was withdrawing. It was noon, and I rose and made ready a +grave for Simon. I chose a spot under a pine where I had seen the +woman sit, and I dug deep as my crude implements would permit. Then I +piled stones on the mound. The Englishman helped me, and together we +said a prayer. We did not comment till our work was over. Then +Starling looked down at the mound. + +"I wonder why he was killed? The others surrendered." + +I shrugged a trifle bitterly. "He loved the woman. It was not her +fault. I doubt that she knew it, and she could not help it. But it +cost him his life, for it made him attempt to carry a forlorn hope. +And she never even knew. It is suicide to love a woman hopelessly, +monsieur." + +It was hideous when we went back to our seats by the ashes. The sun +had come out hot and nauseating, and the flies buzzed horribly. We +tried to crowd down food, but we could not swallow. We sat and chewed +on our despairing thoughts, and hate that was a compound of physical +faintness and sick uncertainty rose between us. + +The Englishman took a miniature from his pocket and handed it to me. + +"She gave it to me herself," he said. "With laughter and with kisses, +monsieur." + +I tried to wave the picture away, but I had not strength to resist +looking. It was no profile that I saw. The brown eyes looked full in +mine; merry eyes, challenging, fun-crowded, innocent. There were no +sombre shadows there. There was spirit in plenty, but no sorrow. +White shoulders rose from clouds of pink gauze, and the hair was +powdered and pearl-wreathed and piled high in a coronet. It was not +the face of the woman that I knew. I said so, and returned the +portrait to the Englishman. + +He could not resist baiting me. "You do not like it, monsieur?" + +I shook my head. "It is nothing to me. It is the face of a laughing, +trusting, untouched girl. I have never seen her." + +"You say that you married her." + +"Monsieur, this is a girl. I married a woman, a woman matured by +tragedy. The eyes that are laughing in this portrait are wiser now. +They have seen the depths of a man's treachery. But they have not lost +their spirit, no, nor their tenderness, monsieur. You will find little +that you recognize in the woman who is now my wife." + +He kept his composure. "You use the word 'wife' very glibly," he said, +with a yawn. "Do you use it when the lady is within hearing, as you do +now?" + +"She is my wife." + +He laughed, for he saw he had drawn blood. "Your wife in name, +perhaps,--I grant you that,--but not in fact. Do you think me blind +that I should not see the two cabins. And you said that you had never +crossed the threshold of the woman's room. I see that I shall find my +cousin the maiden that I left her, monsieur." + +I kept my lips closed. He had indeed drawn blood. I could not answer. +He leaned forward and tapped a significant forefinger on my knee. + +"Remember, she has kissed me, monsieur. She has kissed me often of her +own will." + +And then my spirit did return. "That does not concern me." + +He lifted his great lip. "You are indulgent." + +The flies buzzed odiously. The Englishman was gloating over me, his +great head craned forward like a buzzard's. My brain took fire. + +"I am not indulgent," I said slowly, with my throat dry. "I am wise. +She has kissed you, yes. I have no doubt that she has kissed you many +times, casually, lightly, indifferently. She brushed the plumage of +her falcon in the same way. You are welcome to the memory of those +kisses, my lord. You may have more like them in the future, and I +shall not say you nay. They mean nothing." + +He scowled at me. "What do you know of her kisses?" he said under his +breath. + +I looked him in the eye. "I know this. There is but one kiss that +means anything from a woman, and she gives it, if she is the right kind +of a woman, to but one man in her life. For the rest,--I value them no +more than the brush of her finger-tips. Tell me, have you felt her +lips pressed to yours till her breath and her soul were one with you? +Tell me that. Answer, I say." + +I had let the cord of reason and decency slip. I rose, and I think +that the hate in my face must have been wolfish, for the man drew back. +He tried to look contemptuous, but I saw fear in his eyes. Fear and +something more,--a sudden pain and longing. The emotion that +heretofore he had kept well in hand trapped him for the moment. I was +answered. The woman might never be mine, but she had never been his, +either. I turned away. I was triumphant, but I loathed myself. I was +sick with the situation, and the man who had brought me to it. + +"You may keep your kisses, monsieur," I said savagely. "You may keep +them. But if you mention them to me again I shall throttle you where +you stand." + +The Englishman had felt the revulsion, and he showed no resentment of +my heat. He heaved himself up in the hot, horrible sunshine and rubbed +his hands as if washing them free. + +"We are curs," he said quietly. + +I could not say nay. "We must eat," I cautioned; "we must eat, and +keep ourselves sane. If we can get through this day without murder or +worse, we shall have work to do from now on that will serve to keep our +heads clear. Pierre will be coming soon now." + +Starling was regarding me keenly. "You lose your temper, and therefore +you should be easy to read," he said reflectively. "But you are not. +You evidently married my cousin for convenience. I can understand the +situation. But you stand by your bargain well. You have the honor of +your name somewhat sensitively at heart. But if you had not married +her---- If there were no compulsion, no outside reason--tell me, would +you marry her now?" + +But that I left unanswered. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE PIVOT + +Pierre came at five o'clock. He was keen for the approaching supper +hour and came jovially. + +I was sick with haste, and deep sunk in my own grief, so I was cruel +and a fool; I plumped the facts at him without a softening word. And +so I frustrated my own ends. The great, slow creature cowered and grew +dumb under my story. Then he went, great-eyed and hanging-lipped, from +cabin to cabin. I had locked up his springs of word and thought. + +But one thing my sword and my words prodded out of him. He had come by +the portage path from the east, and had seen no marks of passage that +were less than a week old. Our star led west. + +I baled what provision and ammunition we needed, loaded the canoes, and +cached the furs and the balance of the stores at the edge of the +forest. At six o'clock we were afloat. I led the way, and Pierre +followed with the Englishman. This gave me space to think in silence. + +The sun sank red and clear, and we paddled from a colored dusk to a +clear starlight. I knew this dimly, as the lost in the inferno know +the barred joys above them. Unless we found Pemaou within the next few +hours I should never be one with the loveliness of nature again. + +I held my way due west to the Malhominis. I could secure their +cooperation, if nothing more. Pierre followed at a canoe length, and +we traveled unbrokenly. It was an hour short of midnight when we saw +the west shore. I could take no bearings in the dim light, so we nosed +along, uncertain whether to go north or south to find the mouth of the +Wild Rice River where the Malhominis had their home. We held a short +colloquy and started northward. Suddenly Pierre shot his canoe beside +my own. + +"A camp!" he breathed in a giant whisper. + +I suspended my paddle. On the shore to the north of us were lights. +It could not be the Malhominis, for they lived inland; it was not +Pemaou, for the camp was many times larger than his would be. It was +probably a hunting party. All the western tribes were friendly; more, +they were my allies. I saw no necessity for caution. I raised a long +halloo, and our canoes raced toward the lights. + +We landed in a medley. Indians sprang from the squatting groups around +the fire and ran to meet us. They were black shapes that I could not +recognize. I leaped from my canoe and held up my hand in greeting. +But an arm reached out and tore my musket from me. I looked up. A +leering Iroquois stood over me. + +I dropped my arms and stood passive. A look over my shoulder told me +that Pierre and Starling had been seized and were fighting well. + +"Caution!" I called. "Do not resist. Watch me." + +"Where are we? What does it mean?" Starling called back. His voice +was shaking. + +I held out my arms to be bound. "The Iroquois!" I shouted to Pierre in +dialect. "I did not know there were any within a thousand miles. Keep +steady. Follow me. We may find Pemaou here." + +The Indians bound us systematically, but without undue elation, so that +I judged that they had many captives. They were Senecas and had the +look of picked men. I understood their speech, but beyond ribald jests +at our expense they said nothing. It was all swift, unreal. Owls +hooted in the woods and dogs snarled at us. The groups that remained +by the fire peered in our direction, but were too lethargic to come +near. I tried for a word with Starling. I feared for his spirit. + +"They are Senecas," I managed to say to him; "the most diplomatic +nation of the Iroquois league. They will not butcher us without +consideration. Keep cool." + +He nodded with some patronage. He looked impressive, unshaken; yet the +moment before he had been terror-stricken. I saw that I did not +understand him, after all. + +Having bound us, our captors raised a shout and shouldered us toward +the camp. A young brave capered before us, beating his breast and +singing. The braves by the fire took up the cry. + +And so we were pushed into the circle of flaming light. The Indians +crowded to us, and pressed their oily, grinning faces so near that I +felt their breath. I stumbled over refuse, and dirt-crusted dogs +blocked my way. The mangled carcass of a deer lay on the ground, and +the stench of fresh blood mingled with the reek of the camp. Yet I saw +only one thing clearly. In the midst of it stood the woman and Singing +Arrow. + +My relief caught at my throat, and the cry I gave was hoarse and +strangled. But the woman heard it. My first look had shown me not +only that she was unharmed, but that she was undaunted, that she stood +white-faced in all the grime, and held herself above it, a thing of +spirit that soil could not reach. Yet when she saw me, the cry that +came from her in answer changed her from an effigy to something so warm +and living that I forgot where I stood, and stopped my breath to hold +her gaze to mine, and drink the moment to the full. We stood with +captivity between us and torture at our elbow, but the woman looked +only at me, and her lips grew red and tremulous, and her breath came +fast. "You are safe. You are safe." I heard the words even among the +babel, and I pulled like a wild animal at my bonds to free myself and +reach her side. + +But I was held fast, and while I struggled came a mighty cry from +behind me, "Mary! Mary! Mary!" Starling's Goliath frame pushed by +me, and his captors were hurled like pygmies to each side. + +The woman was unprepared. She cried at sight of him with a deep +throaty terror that sent the blood to my brain. Starling would have +pressed himself to her, but she put out her unbound arms and fended him +away. And then he stood with his great height bowed and pleaded to +her. I had shrugged at the English for their hard reserve, but when I +heard this man I learned again that it is always the dammed torrent +that is to be feared. Even the Indians heard in silence. + +The silence lasted. Never before nor since have I known savages to +take the background and let two whites play out a tragedy unchecked. +But now they formed a ring and watched. They forgot their interest in +me and let me go. I could stand unheeded. An old man threw tinder on +the fire, and we saw each other's faces as in the searching, red light +of a storm. I watched the cords in Starling's neck tighten and relax +as he talked on and on. + +The drama was in pantomime to me, as to the Indians, for the cousins +spoke in English. But I could understand the woman's face. She spoke +in monosyllables, but I could have pitied any other man for the gulf +she put between them by her look. She was more than scornful; torn and +disheveled as she was, she was cruelly radiant, her eyes black-lined +and her lips hard. She was unassailable. And when she met her +kinsman's eye I gloried in her till I could have laid my cheek on the +ground at her feet. + +It was plain they were kinsmen. I had marked the strange blood +resemblance between them when I first saw the man, and it was doubly to +be noted now. It was blood against blood as they faced each other. +And it came to me that it was more than a personal duel. No wrong is +so unforgivable as one from our own family whose secret weaknesses we +know and share, and I felt that the repulsion in the woman's eyes was +part for herself and part for her pride of race. Yet I was uncertain +of the issue. The tie of blood is strong, and after a few minutes I +thought that Starling was gaining ground. His great personality +enwrapped us all, and his strange, compelling voice went on and on and +on, pleading, pleading in a tongue that I could not understand. His +eyes never left the woman's, and in time hers fell. I tried to clench +my bound hands, for my pride in her was hurt; yet I could understand +his power. + +It was just then that the savages wearied of the spectacle and hustled +Starling away. They saw that he was English, and they unbound his +arms, and began to take counsel concerning him. In a flash I saw my +path clear. They were friendly to the English. The woman was English. +I must not let her identify herself with me. And so when her glance +crept back to me, I was prepared. I would not stop to read what her +look might say. I shook my head at her and dropped my eyes. I made +the same signal to Singing Arrow. The Indian would understand my +motive; I could not be sure about the woman. + +And then I turned and mingled with the crowd, with my heart beating +strangely but my brain cool. The interest was centring in Starling, +and the older men had their calumets in hand and were preparing for the +council. I saw that for a few hours at least I should have life and +semi-liberty. There was no possibility of my escape, so, bound as I +was, I was free to wander within limits. I would keep as near the +women as possible and try and herd my faction together. + +I had been too absorbed to use my eyes, but now I saw that a captive +was lying near my feet. He was closely tied on two pieces of rough +wood shaped like a St. Andrew's cross, and was a hideous sight with his +tongue protruding and his eyes beginning to glaze. Dogs were +scrambling and tearing at him, and I edged nearer and tried to drive +them away. I examined him as closely as I dared, and judged by the +dressing of his long hair that he was a Miami. In that case the war +party must have come from the south by way of the Ohio and the Illinois +country, and they were probably working their way north to reach +Michillimackinac on its unguarded side. I saw it was a war party, for +there were no women with them, and the Iroquois carry their families on +all hunting trips. + +I looked at the dying man and wished for my knife. So they tortured +Indian captives while they let me, a Frenchman, go lightly bound. +Well, my turn was yet to come. My white skin probably gave me +importance enough so that I would be referred to the council. I would +not look ahead. I would plan for the moment, and open eyes and ears. + +There were many captives, I saw now, and my anxiety for Leclerc and +Labarthe grew keen. I made my slow way around the bound figures. Some +were pegged to the ground by their out-stretched hands and feet, and +some were stretched on crosses. But all were Indians. I saw more +Miamis, a few Kickapoos, and some whom I did not know; I learned later +that they were Mascoutens. And then I saw Labarthe. He was tied to a +tree, Leclerc beside him. Leclerc, who was ever a fool, would have +motioned to me, but Labarthe struck down his arm and gave a blank +stare. So I was able to get near them. They looked blood-stained and +jaded, but practically unhurt, and I saw a half-eaten chunk of meat in +Leclerc's hand. They had been fed and reasonably well treated. But +that meant nothing as guide to what might come. + +I had not made my way alone. Starling was the chief attraction, but I, +too, was the centre of a curious, chaffering crowd. The braves were +unwontedly good-humored, childishly pleased with the evening's +excitement, and I amused them still further by shrugging at them and +making great faces of contempt. When one offered me a meal cake I +kicked at him and trampled the food into the ground, and as I swaggered +away I heard him tell the others that I was a bear for courage. I +could have smiled at that, for I was acting more like a blustering +terrier than any nobler animal, but I would not let them see that I +understood their tongue. + +And so I pushed my way about. But wherever I went, or whatever else my +eyes were doing, I kept watch upon the woman. She stood quiet with +Singing Arrow and waited for what might come. Her fate was hanging +with Starling's at the council ring, and I knew that I must keep away +from her. That was not easy. Each time that I let my glance rest upon +the foulness of the camp I felt that I must go to her and blind her +eyes. But I never made more than one step. I had only to look at her +to understand that her spirit had learned in these months to hold +itself above the body. What was passing did not touch her; she lived +in the fortress of her splendidly garrisoned pride. Singing Arrow +stood equally aloof, intrenched in her stoicism, but I think the root +motives of the two were different, though the outside index was the +same. Indeed, we all had different wellsprings for our composure. +Pierre's stolidity was largely training. Starling's quiet might mean +instinctive imitation, but I feared it was something more sinister. +While mine---- But I had no composure. I swaggered and shrugged and +played harlequin and boaster. + +We were soon to learn that Starling's quiet was not impervious. I saw +him start. His hand flew to where his knife had been, and his teeth +showed like a jackal's. A figure that had lain, blanket-shrouded in +the shadow, had risen and come forward. It was Pemaou. He had pleased +his humor by being an unseen auditor and letting us play out our +various forms of resistance and despair for his delight. Now he would +make a dramatic entry. He was dressed for the part in a loin cloth, a +high laced hat of scarlet, and the boots of a captain of dragoons. He +stopped before Starling and grinned silently. Then he held his hat, +French fashion, and made a derisive bow. The Englishman forgot his +dignity and cursed. I wished that I had been near enough to hold up a +warning hand. + +I knew my turn was next, so was prepared. Pemaou sought me, and stood +before me, but I would not see him; I looked through him as through +glass. He spoke to me in French, but I was deaf. I heard the Senecas +grunt with amusement. + +Pemaou heard it too, and his war plume quivered. He gave an order in +Huron, and one of his men came behind me and unbound my hands. I could +have jeered at the childishness of his open purpose. He hoped that, +with my hands free, I would spring at him, impotent and vengeful as a +caged rattlesnake, and that then he could turn me over to the sport and +torture of the mob. I stretched my freed arms, laughed to myself, and +turned away. My laugh was genuine. It was wine to me that he should +have shown weakness in this fashion, when in some ways he had proved +himself a better general than I. It was a small victory, but it +cheered me. + +I do not know how long the council lasted, but it seemed hours. The +old men rose at last, and going to Starling, patted him, grunted over +him, and examined him. I could not hear what they said, but it was +evidently pacific; they led him off in the direction of the largest +lodge. + +And then came the woman's turn. I knew that my face was strained, +though I strove to keep it sneering. I saw the oldest man give +instructions, then he went to the two women and pointed the way before +him. I pushed along as best I could. He took them to a small hut of +bark and motioned them within, while he himself dropped the mat in +front of the opening. They were safe for that night at least. + +The savages were wearied now and turned to Pierre and me with yawns. +They made short work of us. I was bound to the arm of a stout warrior, +and he dragged me under a tree and dropped on the ground. He was +snoring before I had finished building a barricade of cloak between us +to keep as much as possible of his touch and smell away. + +The camp quieted rapidly, and I soon had only silence between me and +the stars. My mind was active but curiously placid. Inch by inch I +went over the ground of the last twenty-four hours. I stated the case +to myself as a foreigner translates a lesson. It is sometimes a help +to put a situation in the concrete, to phrase it as to a stranger. In +that way you stand aloof and see new light. So I put the matter in +category, sharing it with the stars, and with the back of the snoring +Indian. + +We were in Pemaou's hands. He had known that the Iroquois were coming; +had probably known it months before, and had instigated this campaign. +He wished an alliance with the English, and, though he could work to +that end through the Iroquois, he would find an English prisoner a +material aid. I could see how useful I had been to him in keeping the +Englishwoman away from Michillimackinac,--where he would have had ado +to hold his title of possession to her,--and I could not but respect +the skill with which he had timed his blow, and brought her to the +Iroquois camp at the right moment. Yes, I had served him well, from +the time when I had assisted him to hear Longuant's speech in the +Ottawa camp to the present hour. The accident that had strengthened +him still further by throwing Lord Starling into his hands he also owed +to me. But I looked up at the stars and did not lose courage. The +game was not over; the score was yet to be paid. + +I had many plans to arrange. Day was coming, and I watched the horizon +breaking and felt that the morning would bring new opportunity. + +And then, just as I needed all my wit and presence, I fell into a deep, +exhausted sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE PRICE OF SLEEP + +I do not know that, after all, I can call that sleep which fell upon +me. Sleep is merely a blessed veiling of the faculties; this was +collapse, deadness. The Indian beside me must have been equally worn, +for he lay like a log. We were huddled close to a tree, so were +unnoticed, or at least undisturbed. The sun was hours high when I +opened my eyes. + +I sprang to my feet, dragging the Indian to his knees. He grunted, +rubbed his eyes, and feeling sluggish and uncomfortable from the warmth +of the morning, found me an incubus. He grunted again, untied the +thongs that bound us, and went, stretching and yawning, to find his +breakfast. + +I stood for a moment marshaling my wits. The bright day and the noise +confused me, for I had been deep sunk in unconsciousness, and grasped +the real world unsteadily. The camp was even larger than the night had +shown, and it took some looking to find the woman's lodge. It was +empty; the mat was pulled down from before the door. + +I should have expected nothing else, for the morning was far advanced, +but I felt baffled, belated, like one whose long unconsciousness had +carried him hopelessly out of touch with his surroundings. Most of the +Indians were gathered at the shore, and I made my way toward them. I +went but slowly, for I had to feign indifference. I knew that every +step was watched. Perhaps the woman herself was watching. I burned +with shame to think she should have seen me sleep so soddenly. I +expected every moment to see her in the crowd. + +But when I reached the beach the crowd was straying as if the +excitement were over. Far out on the water to the northeast was a +flotilla of canoes fast disappearing. Whom did they carry? Had they +left from the camp? I cursed myself for my lost hours. The threads of +the situation had slipped from my hand, and all my feeling of +competence and hope of the night before had gone with them. I could +see no sign of the woman nor of Starling. Pierre's red head was a +beacon, but I dared not go to him. He was bending over a caldron of +boiling meat, and I saw that my man was himself again, and that the +trencher called him more winningly than any voice of mine. I shrugged, +and went to the beach to make what toilet I could. The cold water +recreated me. I was more a man when I strolled back in the crowd. + +And then I saw Labarthe. He was unbound and mingling with the Indians. +Leclerc was close beside him, shuffling and docile; he, too, was free, +as was Pierre. Four of us, and our hands at liberty. This looked +better. I hummed a tune, clapped a brave on the shoulder, and motioned +him to bring me meat and meal. But where was the woman? + +I saw Labarthe working toward me with his eyes the other way, so I knew +he had news. He was nimbler witted than Pierre, though less valuable +on a long stretch. I dreaded Leclerc, for he could not be trusted even +for good sense, and I heartily wished him elsewhere. But Pierre came +to the rescue; he called Leclerc boldly, and drew him to the meat +caldron. I was satisfied. Three of us were working in unison,--and we +had worked together in this way before, and won. But where were +Pemaou, and Starling, and the woman? + +Labarthe made his way near, and stood with his back toward me. I +remembered a roundelay that we had sung in camp. I whistled it, +picking, in the meantime, at the bone the Indian had brought. I +whistled the tune once, twice, several times. Then I fitted words to +it. + +"Where is the woman? Where is the Englishman? Tell me." I sang the +words boldly, but in bastard French with clipped accents. I feared +that among all these Senecas there might be one or more who had some +smattering of the French tongue. + +Labarthe did not answer at once nor look around, so I went on singing. +Nonsense words now, with no coherence or meaning, and all in French +that a cowherd would have been ashamed to own. + +I worked at last to a crescendo of sound that gave Labarthe his cue. +He turned and laughed, as if noticing me for the first time. He cocked +his head like a game bird, planted his legs apart, and joined the song. +He had the biggest voice from Montreal to Chambly, and he sung with +full lung power and at breathless speed. It was a torrent of sound; my +ears were strained to follow it. + +"Five large canoes left this morning," he warbled. "They carried +madame, the Englishman, Pemaou, and his Hurons, and a detachment of the +Senecas,--some seventy-five in all. They went to Michillimackinac." + +The news hit me like a bullet, and I must have whitened, but I kept on +singing. I nodded at Labarthe, and sang, I think, of spring and +running brooks. Then I flung a jeer at him and ate my breakfast. I +ate it systematically and stolidly, though it would not have tempted +any but a starving man. I was a fool and a dullard. I had slept away +my opportunities, and I could not see that my strength was important to +any one. But I determined to preserve it. + +If I kept up jest and laughter for the next hours--and I have some +memory that I did--it was automatic. For I more nearly touched despair +than ever before. I did not need the sentences that I picked up +further among the Indians to tell me what had happened. The Senecas, +under Pemaou's guidance, had gone to Michillimackinac; had put their +heads into the bear's mouth, and yet were as safe as in their own +village, for the bear's teeth were drawn, and the Senecas were armored. +They traveled with Pemaou, and they had two English prisoners. That +insured them protection from the Hurons, who desired the English +alliance and had leanings toward the Iroquois. As to the +Ottawas,--there was Singing Arrow as hostage. It was significant that +the Senecas had allowed Singing Arrow to go unbound. They desired an +alliance with the Ottawas. I remembered Longuant's speech, and his +indicated policy of casting his strength with the winning side, and I +thought it probable they would succeed. + +And if they succeeded? Well, Cadillac had his two hundred regulars. +Yet he could not hope to win, and he would do what he could to hold off +the necessity of trying. He would not dare seize the Senecas. No, the +league of the Long House had won. Their braves could sit in our +garrison at their leisure and exchange peace belts with our Indians +under our eyes. I set my teeth and wondered what part Starling had +played in it all. He had grown curiously at ease when he had found +himself in an Iroquois camp. I had no choice but to believe that +Pemaou had tricked and deceived him, as he had said, but that did not +mean that he had not been in league with Pemaou in the beginning. +Pemaou was capable of tricking a confederate. No Englishman +understands an Indian, and if he had patronized Pemaou the Huron would +have retaliated in just this way. I grew sick with the maze of my +thought. But one thing I grasped. With part of the Senecas in the +French camp, we Frenchmen would be spared for a time. We would be +convenient for exchange, or to exact terms of compromise. They might +torture us, but they would keep us alive till the issue of this +expedition was known. + +All about me were preparations for a permanent camp. This puzzled me +for a time, but I soon worked out the reason. They were afraid to +march with their full force on Michillimackinac, for they feared the +friendship of the western tribes for the French, and thought that if a +large war party marched openly toward the garrison these tribes would +rally to Cadillac's defense. So this camp was kept as watch-dog for +the western region. I prayed that Cadillac keep his judgment cool. + +One thing brought smiles that I had to turn into vacant and misleading +laughter. Through all the talk ran my name,--that they did not know +was mine. They had heard that I was stirring among the western tribes, +and that I was making them dangerous. They spoke of my knowledge of +Indian tongues, and added apocryphal tales of my feats of wit and +daring. My image loomed large, and it was no wonder that they did not +connect this mythical Colossus with the swaggering royster who played +buffoon for their mirth. I wondered that Pemaou had not told them, but +I reflected that there is a mutual distrust among Indians that takes +the place of reticence, and that that had saved me. I had escaped for +the moment, but the ice was thin. I should be given short shrift once +my name was known. + +The day passed, warm and lovely in the woods and on the water, hideous +and sweltering in the stench of the camp. I saw captives die of heat +and flies, but I could do nothing. My men took cue from me, and we all +laughed and chaffered. I even took a turn at spear throwing, but was +too discreet to win. I gained some good-will, perhaps, but nothing +more, and when the stars came out that night I ground my teeth to think +of how little I had accomplished, and of the slender opportunity ahead. + +But the next morning I saw a straw to grasp. Up to that time we had +been left to the guardianship of all the camp, but the second day I saw +that the huge brave to whom I was tied at night followed me +incessantly. I watched, and saw that my men had similar attendants. +This was a gain, as I said to Labarthe. I did not try to have +connected speech with the men, but by saying a word at a time as we +passed we could patch together a few sentences. + +From that on I gave the day to winning my special jailer. He was an +intelligent Indian and inclined to be good-humored. I amused him, and +when I took a net and motioned that we go to the swamp to fish he +grunted and agreed. + +The swamp lay on the north of the camp, and was, I was sure, part of +the great rice field on which the Malhominis had their village to the +west. The swamp was flooded so that it would bear a canoe, and it +teemed with fish. I took the net,--it was ingeniously woven of nettles +pounded to a fibre and then spun into cords,--and showed the Indian how +to swing it across an eddy and draw it under with a swift, circular +sweep that would entangle any fish. I had success, and the Indian +warmed to the sport and tried it himself. He could not do it; he could +not get the twist of the hand that was the whole secret, and I had to +show him again. He improved and grew ambitious. A few braves wandered +over to look at us, but my jailer was jealous of his new +accomplishment, and we took a canoe and paddled out of sight. We spent +most of the day in the swamp. + +That evening I went boldly to Pierre and said a few swift words. I +told him to keep as near the swamp as possible, and to tell the other +men to do the same. In about two days, if my plans carried, we should +be able to accomplish something. In the meantime they must appear +contented, and try for the confidence of their guards. + +Now my plan was simple. I had in my shirt the bottle of laudanum that +all traders carry, and it was my only weapon. Pierre had shown me a +small flask of rum which the Indians had not discovered, and which he +had had the unexpected self-control to leave untouched. I hoped that +when my Indian had learned the casting of his net his vanity could be +played on to invite the other Frenchmen and their guards to see his +prowess, and that we should then have opportunity to treat the Indians +to the laudanum-dosed rum. It was a crazy scheme, but worth a trial. +If we could get possession of the canoe, there was some hope that we +could make our way to the Malhominis village. + +No teacher was ever more zealous than I for my net-thrower. Early the +next morning I winked toward the swamp, and jerked my thumb over my +shoulder. The Indian came willingly. Why should he not? I was +unarmed, and he had knife and hatchet and was my peer in strength. He +thought me a strange fool, but useful. + +But that morning the lesson went badly. The Indian was clumsy, and +being ashamed of himself, grew surly and indifferent. The sun was hot, +the water dazzling, and mosquitoes rose in clouds. The Indian wanted +to go back to camp, and I cudgeled my wits for expedients to keep him +there. + +And then I bethought me of an accomplishment which I had shown Indians +before. Quickness of hand is my greatest resource, and I had been +known to noose a fish. I tore my handkerchief in ribands, made a +weighted sling, and had the Indian swing the canoe over a ripple where +a great bass lay. I waited my time, then plunged my hand down with the +weighted noose. I drew it up, with the fish caught through the gills. + +The Indian was pleased. He grunted and exclaimed in his own speech, +though he thought I could not understand. + +"They say the Frenchman, Montlivet, can do that." Then he looked at me +and light dawned. + +"You are Montlivet!" + +I wasted no time. I do not know how I did it, but I sprang the length +of the canoe and was on him before he could reach his knife. The canoe +rocked, but righted itself. I knotted my fingers in the Indian's +throat, and my body pinioned his arms. + +The surprise of my attack gave me a second's vantage, and in it I +snatched at the vial in my shirt, and drew the stopper with my teeth. +It was difficult, for the great, naked frame was writhing under me, and +the canoe pitched like a cork in an eddy. I felt the Indian's hot +breath, and his teeth snapping to reach me. His arm was working free +and his knife unsheathed. I threw my whole weight on his chest, +released my clutch on his neck, and taking both hands, forced his mouth +open and dashed the contents of my laudanum vial down his throat. Then +I sprang into the water, dragging Indian and canoe after me. + +I felt the slash of a knife in my right shoulder as I touched the +water, and the Indian's wiry grasp on my coat. I rolled and grappled +with him, and the canoe floated away. Hugging each other like twining +water snakes, we sank down through the reeds to the slimy ooze of the +bottom. + +Down there we wrestled for a second, blinded and choking. Then +self-love conquered hate, and we kicked ourselves free and spluttered +to the surface. My shoulder was stinging, and I could not tell how +long I could depend on it. I made a desperate stroke or two, dived, +and put myself in the cover of the reeds. + +The Indian splashed after me, but the water flowed through the reeds in +a dozen channels, and he took the wrong one. He would find his mistake +in a moment. I swam a few paces under water, then lay quiet, holding +myself up by the reeds, and keeping my mouth to the air. Piece by +piece I freed myself of my clothing and let it drop. The cut in my +shoulder was raw and made me faint. It was not dangerous, but deep +enough to give me trouble, and would make my swimming slow, if, indeed, +I could swim at all. I felt the water swash against me and knew the +Indian was swimming back. There was only a thin wall of reeds between +us, and in a moment he would come to where the channels joined and see +my floating garments. I could not stop to secure them, though I had +hoped to tie them in a bundle on my back. I dropped under the water +and swam away. + +I have often marveled how I distanced that Indian so easily. It may +have been his discomfort from the opiate, though I have never known how +much of what I splashed over him went into his mouth, nor what effect +it had. But after a little I heard no sound of pursuit. I thought +that perhaps the Indian had gone back to spread the alarm, and I took +no risks. I swam as fast as I had strength, resting occasionally by +holding on to the reeds, and trying to keep my course due northwest. + +And hour by hour passed, and still I kept on swimming. It was torture +after the first. I could rest as often as I needed, but the cold water +palsied me, and I feared cramp. My shoulder was feverish, and the pain +of it sapped my strength. Occasionally I found a log tangled in the +reeds, and I pulled myself up on it into the sun. If I had not been +able to do that I could not have gone on. + +With chill and fever and pain I had light-headed intervals. These came +as the afternoon waned, and while they lasted I thought that the woman +was in the Seneca camp, and that I must get back to her. Then I would +turn and swim with the current, losing in a few minutes as much as I +had gained in double the time. Fortunately these seizures were brief, +but they would leave me sick and shaken and grasping the reeds for +support. Another illusion came at this time: I would hear the woman +calling, calling my name. Sometimes she cried that I had forsaken her. +That left me weaker than the fever of my wound. + +It was impossible to see where I was going, for the reeds were high +above my head, but so long as my reason lasted I steered by the sun. I +presume that I doubled many times, and lost much space, but that I do +not know, for toward the end I traveled like an automaton. I could not +fix my mind on where I was going or why, but I kept repeating to myself +that I must push against the current, and so, though I lost the idea at +times, and found myself drifting, I think that I went some distance +after my brain had ceased to direct. + +And then I found peace. My mind, freed of the burden of thinking of +its surroundings, turned to the woman. She called to me, talked to me, +sometimes she walked the reeds at my side. She was all smiles and +lightness, and her tongue had never a barb. I forgot to struggle. The +narrow channel where I had been fighting my way opened now into a +broader passage, and the current flowed under me like an uplifting +hand. The woman's voice called me from down-stream; I turned on my +back, and floated, dreamy and expectant, toward the river's mouth. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +I ENCOUNTER MIXED MOTIVES + +I was called to semi-consciousness by the tinkling clamor of small +bells, and by feeling my feet caught in something clinging yet +yielding. Then my body swung into it. It was a web. I pulled at it, +and tried to brush it away. And all the while the bells kept ringing, +ringing. A shower of arrows fell around me, and one grazed my foot. + +A man must be far gone indeed when an arrow point will not sting him to +life. I was no longer a fever-riven log of driftwood. I knew where I +was and what was happening. I had reached the Malhominis village. +Working through the rice swamp, I had come into the main river too far +to the west, but following the woman's voice I had floated back. I was +caught in one of the nets that the Malhominis strung with small bells, +and stretched across the stream to keep both fish and enemies in +bounds. I set my teeth hard. + +"It is Montlivet. It is Montlivet," I called. + +Had I thought the Malhominis stolid and none too intelligent! They +heard me call, they pushed a canoe to my rescue, and they carried me to +a warm lodge. I remember that I bandied words with them as they +carried me. They made sport to see me naked, for on my former visit I +had rebuked them severely on that score. But they were tender of my +shoulder. + +The time for the next few hours--indeed for the night--is confused. My +shoulder was dressed and bound with herbs, and I was laid on a bed of +rushes. Outchipouac, the Malhominis war chief, knew from former +acquaintance with me that I had prejudices and would not lie where it +was not clean, and so he humored me and gave orders that the rushes be +freshly cut. By this I knew that he had not only respect for me, but +something that was like affection, since savages are indolent and +intolerant, and will not bestir themselves for Europeans unless they +are unwontedly interested. I treasured this kindness. One meets +little that savors of personal regard in the wilderness, and I was ill. + +Now, savages know little of the laws of health and abuse what they +know, but in the matter of herbs they can be trusted. The herb drink +which they gave me had virtue, for I woke with my head clear. A gourd +of water stood beside my pallet, and I drained it and called lustily +for another. A man pushed aside the skins and came in. It was Pierre. +Pierre, alive, clothed, and with every hair of his flamingo head +bristling and unharmed! He answered my cry with a huge smile, and then +because he had a gypsy mother in the background of his nature, he put +his great hands before his face, and I saw tears pushing between the +fingers. + +That made me fear ill news. I half rose, and would have shaken his +tidings out of him like corn out of a bag. But the pain of my shoulder +sent me back again with my teeth jammed hard together. + +"What has happened? Out with it!" I cried. + +But Pierre was inarticulate. He came to my pallet and mumbled +something between tears about my shoulder. + +--"and the master with no clothes but a dirty Indian's!" he finished. + +So I was the cause of this demonstration. I patted his hand. + +"But your escape, Pierre? Where are the other men?" + +"Master, I do not know." + +"But where did you come from? How did you get here? Talk, man!" + +"The master does not give me time. I came by land. It is a fine land. +They raise great squashes. Yes, and grain and vegetables! I have +never seen their like in France. If I had a farm here I could have +more than I could eat the whole year round." + +I took time to curse. I had never heard my giant prate of agriculture; +the camp and the tap-room had been his haunts. This appeared to be a +method of working toward ill news. I lay back on my rushes and tried +to fix his eye. + +"Pierre, answer. Where is Labarthe?" + +"I told the master"-- + +"Answer!" + +"I don't know." + +"Did he escape with you?" + +Pierre rubbed his sleeve across his face. "The master will not listen. +I do not know about Labarthe. I saw him at camp yesterday morning. +The master saw him at the same time. Then the master went to the +swamp, and I went, too, with my Indian. But I kept behind. By and by +I saw the canoe upside down, and the master's cloak floating on the +water; by that I knew that the master was drowned or had got away. I +thought he had gone to the Malhominis, and I wanted to go, too. So I +killed my Indian, and hid him in the grass. I came by land." + +I rose on my elbow, careless of my shoulder. "How could you kill the +Indian? You had no weapon." + +Pierre stretched out his arms, knotted like an oak's branches, and +illustrated. "I hugged him. Once I broke the ribs of a bear." + +I lay and wagged my head like an old man who hears of warlocks and +witch charms, and knows the tales to be true. The stupefying +simplicity of it! If you want a thing, take it. Pierre wanted to +follow me, so he killed his guard and came. That was all there was of +it. I looked at him long, my head still wagging. He had done this +sort of thing before. I had never understood it. It was this that I +meant when I had called Pierre, dull of wit as he seemed, the most +useful of my men. + +I lay all day on my pallet, and Outchipouac served me with his own +hands. + +"It is thus that we treat those whom we delight to honor," he said, and +he held the gourd to my lips and wiped my face with a square of linen +that some trader had left in camp. He would give me no solid food, but +dosed me with brewed herbs and great draughts of steaming broth. The +juggler looked into the lodge and would have tried his charms on me, +but Outchipouac sent him away. + +A storm rose toward night, and I heard the knocking of the rain on the +skin roof above me, and thought of the woman traveling northward in the +Iroquois canoes. Starling was with her. I lay with tight-clenched +hands. + +The storm swelled high. I asked that the mat be dropped from before +the door that I might see the lightning, and while I watched it +Outchipouac slipped in. He felt me over, and patted my moist skin +approvingly. Then he sat by my side and began to talk. + +His talk at first was a chant, a saga, a recitation of the glories of +his ancestors. The Malhominis had been a proud race,--now they were +dwindled to this village of eighty braves. He crooned long tales of +famine, of tribal bickerings, of ambuscade and defeat; his voice +rustled monotonously like wind in dried grass. + +Then his tone rose. He spoke of the present, its possibilities. The +Iroquois league was a scourge, a pestilence. Could it be abolished, +the western nations would return to health. Security would reign, and +tribal laws be respected. The French would be friends, +partners,--never masters,--and a golden age would descend upon the +west. It was the gospel that I had cried in the wilderness, but +phrased in finer imagery than mine. I felt the wooing of his argument, +even as I had wooed others, and I listened silently and watched the +lightning's play. + +But I dreaded the moment when his argument should leave theory and face +me in the concrete. The change came suddenly, as in music a tender +melody will merge abruptly into a summons to arms. He called me to +witness. The Iroquois were at the gates. They outnumbered the +Malhominis, but the Sacs, the Chippewas, and the Winnebagoes were all +within a day's journey, and would come at my call. The time for the +alliance of which I had told them was at hand. My body was crippled +but my brain was whole. To-morrow he, the chief, at my bidding, and +with my watchword, would send runners through the tribes. Within the +week a giant force could be gathered and an attack made. The Iroquois +camp would be exterminated, and then I, at the head of the force, could +march where I willed. Never had the western tribes followed a white +man, but I had called their hearts from their bodies, and they would go. + +But one thing I was to remember. He, Outchipouac, the chief, was my +brother in arms. He had rescued me, clothed me, furnished me the means +of war. My victories were his victories. These were his conditions. +All Iroquois slaves that might be captured were to belong to the +Malhominis to be incorporated in their tribe. The other tribes could +divide the plunder, but the Malhominis needed new blood for adoption. +I must agree to that. + +He stopped. I was too sick of mind to speak, and my distemper was not +of my wound. I had builded for this moment for two years, and now that +it had come I was going to turn my back on it. More, I was going to +refuse aid to a man who had succored me, had shown me genuine kindness. +Self-pity is contemptible, but I felt it now. + +"I cannot lead you," I said dully. "Gather your troops if you like, +and make the attack without me. I cannot be here. To-morrow I must +start for Michillimackinac. You will give me a canoe and a man?" + +The lightning filled the tent and lit our faces, and I saw the chief +start back under the blow of my words. He was shocked out of all his +inherited and acquired phlegm. He did not speak, but he rose and +peered into my eyes and I saw bewilderment go and contempt rise to take +its place. To feel the righteous disdain of an Indian! That is an +unusual experience for a white man. + +And still he did not reply. He sat down and pulled his blanket over +him. He was sorting out the evidence against me and giving judgment. +It seemed at least an hour that he sat silent. And when he did speak +he brought no manna. + +"You have sold yourself to the Iroquois wolf. You are a child. You +see only what is in front of your nose and forget what may come later. +You are a fox. You hand us over to the wolf, but what do you expect? +Has a wolf gratitude? No, but he has hunger. Fox meat is poor and +stringy, but the wolf has a large stomach. Let the fox beware." + +I pulled myself to my feet, though my shoulder cried to me for mercy. +I jerked the chief's blanket aside. + +"Outchipouac, I have listened. You have used an old trick. When a man +wishes to be rid of a dog he cries that it is mad; then he can kill it, +and no one will call him to account. So you. If you wish to break the +covenant between us, now is your time. You can call me a fox, you can +say that I have sold my honor to the Iroquois wolf. No one will check +you, for I am naked and ill, and you are powerful. But you will have +lied. This is my answer. I have called you 'brother;' I have kept the +bond unbroken. If there is a fox here it is the man who calls me one." + +I waited, and my mind was heavy. If the chief called me "brother" in +turn, I was ready to embrace him as of my kin. For he was full of +vigor of mind and honesty, and I respected him. He had been kind to +me. Would he trust me against the evidence,--the evidence of his ears +and of my reluctant tongue? + +He temporized. "The Frenchman has a tongue like a bobolink,--pleasant +to hear. Whether it says much,--that is a different matter. Can the +Frenchman tell me why he wishes to go to Michillimackinac? Can he tell +me why he spends time from the moon of breaking ice to the moon of +strawberries building a lodge of promises, and then when he is just +ready to use the lodge blows it down with a breath?" + +What could I tell him? That I was following a woman? That I had given +her my name, and that I must protect her? It would sound to him like a +parrot's laughter. This was no court of love. It was war. A +troubadour's lute would tinkle emptily in these woods that had seen +massacre and knew the shriek of the death cry. Again I set my teeth +and rose. + +"Outchipouac, war is secret. I cannot tell you why I go to +Michillimackinac. But trust me. I go on business; I shall return at +once, within ten days, unless the wind be foul. Will you furnish me a +canoe and a man to paddle?" I stooped and pulled rushes from my +pallet, plaited them, and bound them in a ring. "Take this ring; keep +it. It is firm, like my purpose, and unending, like my endeavor. I +shall replace it with a chain of bright silver when I come to you +again. I give it to you in pledge of my friendship." + +The chief took the ring and handled it loosely. I thought he was about +to throw it away, but he did not. He put it in his blanket. + +"It is well," he said, and left the lodge. I was held on probation. + +I had a good night and woke with new sinews. I saw that the sun was +shining and the sky untroubled. A squaw brought me broth, and I drank +it hungrily and tried to see no evil augury in the fact that I was +served by a woman. I flattered her, and asked her to summon Pierre. + +She brought him at once. He thrust himself into the entrance, and I +saw dismay written large upon him. + +"There is a canoe waiting to take the master away," he cried. "I am +going, too." + +Now I was prepared for this battle. "Pierre, you are to stay here. +You are to keep near the Seneca camp to help Labarthe and Leclerc. If +they escape, go, all of you, to our camp on Sturgeon Cove and guard the +stores till I send you word. You understand?" + +"But the master is sick. I go with him." + +"You stay here." + +"I go with the master." + +"I will not allow it." + +"Then I follow behind." + +"You have no canoe, no provision." + +"I have legs. I can walk. I can eat tripe de roche." + +The giant was trembling. I could not but respect this rebellion. He +had broken the chains of three centuries in his defiance. The thought +of his filling his cavernous stomach with tripe de roche--which is a +rock lichen, slimy and tasteless--moved me somewhat. + +"You dare disobey me, Pierre?" + +"But the master is sick." + +I shrugged, but the logic held. "Then tell the chief," I capitulated. +"And see that I have something to wear." + +Water was brought by one squaw, and another fetched more broth and +bound my shoulder with fresh dressings. Then leggings, robe, and +girdle of wolfskin were left for me. I put them on with difficulty, +and went to find Outchipouac. + +I stepped out into a glare of sunshine and stood blinking. The braves +were gathered in a group, and a line of squaws barred me from them. I +started toward them, but the squaws waved me back; they pointed me to +the shore and the waiting canoe. Pierre rolled forward, uneasy and +scowling. + +"The braves will not speak to us; they say our talk means nothing." + +"Who said that?" + +"Outchipouac. He showed me a grass ring hanging on a pole by his +lodge. He says that when you come again and hang a silver one in its +place it will be time for him to listen." + +I knew the Indians were watching, though covertly, so I could only bow. +I went to the canoe and looked to its provisioning. There were two +bags of rice, one of jerked meat, some ears of maize, and the dried +rind of a squash; a knife and a hatchet lay with them. Our hosts had +been generous. We were to be aided even if we were to be disciplined. +I found my place, and Pierre took the paddle and pushed away. + +It is one thing to be at enmity with savages, it is another to be an +outcast among them. I knew that their attitude had excuse, and I was +sick with myself. Then my Indian dress chafed my pride. I was sure +that Pierre was laughing under his wrinkled red skin, and I was +childish enough to be ready to rate him if he showed so much as a +pucker of an eye. For I had always refused to let my men adopt the +slightest particular of the savage dress. I had held--and I contend +rightly--that a man must resist the wilderness most when he loves it +most, and that he is in danger when he forgets the least point of his +dress or manner. After that the downward plunge is swift. I had said +this many times, and I knew Pierre must be recalling it. + +And so I was sore with fate. Wounded, skin-clad, I was not heroic in +look; it was hard to be heroic in mind. I had jeopardized the chance +of an empire for a woman. But that proved nothing. The weakest could +do that. It must be shown that I could justify my sacrifice. + +These were irritations, yet they were but the surface of my suffering. +Underneath was the grinding, never-ceasing ache of anxiety. What was +happening at Michillimackinac? Would I reach there in time? I could +do nothing but sit and think. Always, from dawn to dusk, my impatient +spirit fretted and pushed at that canoe, but my hands were idle. I +tried paddling with my left hand, but it dislocated my bandages, and I +did not dare. I was in some pain, but exposed as I was, broiled by the +sun and drenched by showers, I yet mended daily. I ate well and drank +deep of the cold lake water and felt my strength come. My cut was +healing wholesomely without fever, and Pierre washed and bandaged it +twice a day. He told me with many a twist of his hanging lip that it +was well for me that he was there. + +But on the point of his being there I had new light. It came one day +after long silence. The giant rested and wiped his forehead. + +"There are plovers on the waters," he pointed. "They make good eating. +Singing Arrow can cook them with bear's grease. I am going to marry +the Indian when we get to Michillimackinac. Then when we reach +Montreal you will give her a dowry. There is the grain field on the +lower river that was planted by Martin. Martin has no wife. What does +he need of grain? The king wishes his subjects to marry. And if the +master gave us a house we could live, oh, very well. I thought of it +when I went through the Malhominis land and saw all those squashes. +The Indian sews her own dresses, and I shall tell her I do not like her +in finery. We will send a capon to the master every Christmas." + +I grinned despite myself. I had grown fatuous, for I had taken it +without question that the oaf had followed from his loyalty to me. But +I nodded at him and promised recklessly--house, pigs, and granary. The +same star ruled master and man. + +But the way was long, long, long. Nights came and days came, and still +more nights and days. Yet it ended at last. Late one afternoon we saw +the shore line that marked Michillimackinac. Once in sight it came +fast, fast, fast,--faster than I could prepare my courage for what +might meet me. What should I find? + +We reached the beach where I had tied Father Carheil. We rounded the +point. The garrison, the board roofs of the Jesuit houses, the Indian +camps,--all were as usual. They were peaceful, untouched. I +swallowed, for my throat and tongue were dry. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +I MEET VARIOUS WELCOMES + +It was Father Carheil who first sighted us. He sounded the cry of our +arrival, and came skurrying like a sandpiper, his scant gown tripping +him, his cap askew. + +I leaped from the canoe and hurried to him. The man must hate me, but +he could not refuse me news. I stretched out my hand. + +"Is all well here, father? Is all well?" + +He disdained my hand, and held his arms wide. "All is well with us. +But you---- We feared the Iroquois wolf had devoured you." + +And I had thought the man capable of petty spite. I dropped on my +knees to him. "Father Carheil, I grieve for what I did, yet I could +not have done otherwise." + +He drew back a little and rumpled his thin hair with a bloodless hand. +His face was frowning, but his restless, brilliant eyes were full of +amusement. + +"So your conscience is not at ease? My son, you are as strong as a +Flemish work horse. I limped to mass for the next fortnight, and my +gown was in fiddle-strings,--you may send me another. As for the rest, +we need new altar hangings. Now, come, come, come. Tell us what has +happened." + +And there it ended. One makes enemies in strange ways in this world +and friends in stranger. I should not have said that the way to win a +man's heart was to bind him like a Christmas fowl and then leave him +with his back on the sand. + +The priest's cry had waked the garrison, and the officers came running. +Cadillac, stout as he was, was in the lead. I knew, from the press of +his arms about me, that he had thought me dead. + +"Is Madame de Montlivet safe? Are the Senecas here?" I clamored at him. + +A babel of affirmatives arose. Yes, madame was there. The Senecas +were there. So the English prisoner had proved to be a woman. Had I +known it at the time? I was a sly dog. All tongues talked at once, +while I fought for a hearing. We turned toward the commandant's. The +door of the nearest cabin opened and Starling came out. He did not +look toward us, and he walked the other way. The woman walked beside +him. + +A hush clapped down on us as if our very breathing were strangled. A +lane opened in front of me. I took one step in it, then stopped. +There was the woman. I had followed her through wounds and hardship. +Through the long nights I had watched the stars and planned for our +meeting. But when I would have gone to her my feet were manacled, for +this was not the woman of my dreams. This woman wore trailing silk, +and her hair was coifed. And she was walking away from me; no instinct +told her that I was near. She was walking away, and Starling walked +beside her. I did not remember that I was wounded and a sorry figure; +I did not remember that I was dressed in skins. I remembered that I +had married this woman by force, and that she had once wished of her +own accord to marry Starling. And now she walked with him; she wore a +gown he must have brought; she had forgiven him. A hot spark ran from +my heart to my brain. I turned and started toward the beach. + +I heard a breath from the throats around me and a stretching of cramped +limbs. Cadillac's arm dropped round my shoulders, and I felt the +pressure of his fingers. + +"Come to my quarters," he said. "You have mail waiting. And we will +find you something to wear. Dubisson is near your size." + +And so I let him lead me away. I pressed him for news of the Indian +situation, but he only shrugged and said, "Wait. Matters are quiescent +enough on the surface. We will talk later." + +It was strange. I bathed and dressed quite as I had done many times +before, when I had come in from months in camp; quite as if there were +no woman, and as if massacre were not knocking at the window. But I +carried a black weight that made my tongue leaden, and I excused myself +from table on the plea of going through my mail. + +The news the letters brought was good but unimportant. In the Montreal +packet was a sealed line in a woman's hand. + +"I have tracked my miniature," it read. "I mourned its disappearance; +I should welcome its return. Can you find excuses for the man who took +it from me? If you can, I beg that you let me hear them. He was once +my friend, and I am loath to think of him hardly." The note bore no +signature. It was dated at the governor's house at Montreal, and +directed to me at Michillimackinac. + +I was alone with Dubisson and I turned to him. "Madame Bertheau is at +Montreal?" + +He shrugged. "So I hear." + +"She has come to see her brother?" + +Now he grinned. "Ostensibly, monsieur." + +There was no need to hide my feeling from Dubisson, so I sat with my +chin sunk low and thought it over. I was ill pleased. I had been long +and openly in Madame Bertheau's train, and this was a land of gossips. +I turned to the lieutenant. + +"Madame de Montlivet, where is she housed?" + +He looked relieved. "She has a room next door. Starling we have taken +in with us. I would rather have a tethered elk. He is so big he fills +the whole place." + +Now, square issues please me. "Dubisson, why has no one offered to +take me to my wife?" + +The man laughed rather helplessly. "'T is from no lack of respect for +either of you, monsieur. But you said nothing, and Starling"---- + +"Yes, it is from Starling that I wish to hear." + +"Well, Starling has said---- Monsieur, why repeat the man's gossip?" + +"Go on, Dubisson." + +"After all, it is only what the Englishman has said. Madame, so far as +I know, has said nothing. But Starling has told us that yours was a +marriage of form only,--that the woman consented under stress, and +now"---- + +"And now regretted it?" + +"I am only quoting Starling. Monsieur, would you like to see your +wife?" + +I rose. "Yes. Will you send word and see if I may?" + +Dubisson bowed and left me with a speed that gave me a wry smile. The +laughter-loving lieutenant hated embarrassment as he did fast-days, and +I had given him a bad hour. + +He was back before I thought it possible. + +"She will see you at once in the commandant's waiting-room." He looked +at me oddly. + +"Your wife is a queenly woman, monsieur." + +The lights shone uncertainly in the commandant's waiting-room. It was +the room where I had met the English captive. From a defiant boy to a +court lady! It was a long road, and I was conscious of all the steps +that had gone to make it. I went to the woman in silk who waited by +the door. She stood erect and silent, but her eyes shone softly +through a haze, and when I bent to kiss her hand I found that she was +quivering from feet to hair. + +"Monsieur!" she whispered unsteadily, "monsieur!" Then I felt her +light touch. "God is good. I have prayed for your safety night and +day. Ah--but your shoulder! They did not tell me. Are you wounded, +monsieur?" + +I was cold as a clod. She had forgiven Starling. She had walked with +him. I answered the usual thing mechanically. "My shoulder,--it is a +scratch, madame." I kept my lips on her hand, and with the feeling her +touch brought me I could not contain my bitterness. "Madame, you wear +rich raiment. Does that mean that you and Lord Starling are again +friends?" + +She drew away. "Monsieur, should we not be friends?" + +"Have you forgiven Lord Starling, madame?" + +She looked at me with wistful quiet. In her strange gown she seemed +saddened, matured. And she answered me gravely. "Monsieur, please +understand. My cousin and I---- Why, we traveled side by side in the +Iroquois canoes. He served me, was careful of me; he--he has suffered +for me, monsieur. I was hard to him for a long time,--a longer time +than I like to remember. But I could not but listen to his +explanation. And, whatever he did, he is, after all, my cousin, and he +regrets deeply all that happened. As to this gown,--it is one I wore +in Boston. My cousin brought it in his canoe and left it here at the +garrison when he went west. Monsieur"---- + +"Yes, madame." + +"Monsieur, I was wrong when I suspected my cousin. I have an unkind +nature in many ways. He came here to find me,--for that alone. He +honors you greatly for all you have done for me. I hope that you will +give him opportunity to thank you as he wishes." + +I thought of Starling's great voice, his air of power. "I hope to meet +your cousin," I replied. + +It was a churlish return, and she had been gentle. The chill that fell +between us was of my making. I knew that with every second of silence +I was putting myself more deeply in the wrong. But I had to ask one +thing more. + +"Madame, they tell me here that you say that you regret our +marriage,--that I forced you to bear my name. Have you said that?" + +I could not be blind to the hurt in her face. "Monsieur, how can you +ask?" + +And then I was shamed. I knelt again to her hand. "Only to prove in +open words that Lord Starling lied. Did you think I doubted? No, +madame, no woman of our house has ever had finer pride or a truer +instinct. Believe me, I see that. But so the story flies. Madame, +all eyes are on us. We must define the situation in some manner as +regards the world. May I talk to you of this?" + +The hand under my lips grew warm. "Monsieur, we are to wait. When we +reach Montreal"---- + +"But, madame! These intervening months! It will be late autumn before +we return to Montreal." + +She drew in her breath. "Late autumn! Monsieur, what are your plans? +You forget that I know nothing. And tell me of your escape." + +I rose and looked down at her. "We have both escaped," I said, and +because emotion was smiting me my voice was hard. "Let us not talk of +it. I see that you are here, and I thank God. But I cannot yet bring +myself to ask what you have been through. I cannot face the horror of +it for you. I beg you to understand." + +But it was I who did not understand when she drew away. "As you will," +she agreed, and there was pride in her great eyes, but there was a +wound as well. "Yet why," she went on, "should a knowledge of human +tragedy harden a woman? It strengthens a man. But enough. Monsieur, +have you heard--the lady of the miniature is at Montreal?" + +I was slow, for I was wondering how I had vexed her. "You never saw +the miniature," I parried. "How can you connect a name with it, +madame?" + +She looked at me calmly. I hated her silk gown that shone like a +breastplate between us. She brushed away my evasion. + +"It is well known that you carried Madame Bertheau's miniature. You +were an ardent suitor, monsieur." + +Yes, I had been an ardent suitor. I remembered it with amaze. My +tongue had not been clogged and middle-aged, in those blithe days, and +yet those days were only two years gone. With this woman even Pierre +had better speech at his command. + +"Madame, who told you this?" + +"Monsieur, the tale is common property in Paris." + +"May I ask who told you, madame?" + +"My cousin, monsieur." + +"I thought so." + +She looked at me fairly, almost sadly, as if she begged to read my +mind. "Monsieur, why should you regret my knowing? It is to your +credit that you admire Madame Bertheau. They tell me that she is a +woman formed for love, beautiful, childlike, untouched by knowledge of +crime or hardship. Monsieur, forgive me. Are you willing---- May I +see the miniature?" + +The transition in my thought was so abrupt that I clapped my hand to my +pocket as if it were still there. + +"It--I am not carrying the miniature." + +"Did--did the Indians take it from you?" + +I stepped nearer. "Madame de Montlivet, what right have I to be +carrying another woman's miniature? I shall write the fact of my +marriage to Madame Bertheau, and the matter will be closed. No, the +Indians did not take the miniature. I buried it in the woods." + +"Monsieur, that was not necessary!" + +"I thought that it was, madame." + +She stood with a chair between us. "Monsieur," she said, with her eyes +down, "I wish that I had known. It was not necessary. Did you bury +the miniature when you married me?" + +I put the chair aside and stood over her. "No, madame, I did not bury +the miniature the day we were married. Do you remember the night of +the storm, the night when you asked me if I could save you from your +cousin? I rose early the next morning and digged a grave for the +picture. It is buried deep,--with all that I once thought that it +implied. If I confess now that it implied little you must find excuses +for me. I--my heart was in the camp in those days. The rest was +pastime. I have left pastimes behind, madame." + +She would not look at me, yet I felt her change. The flitting, +indescribable air of elation that marked her from all women in the +world came back. She was again the woman of the forest, the woman who +had waked with a song and looked with unhurried pulse into the face of +danger. I breathed hard and bent to her, but she kept her eyes away. + +"The fair little French face," she murmured. "You should not have put +it in the cold earth. You were needlessly cruel, monsieur." + +I bent lower. "I was not cruel. I gave her a giant sepulchre. That +is over. But I--I shall have another miniature. I know a skilled man +in Paris. Some time--some time I mean to have your portrait in your +Indian blouse; in your skin blouse with the sun in your hair." My free +hand suddenly crept to her shoulder, "May I have it? May I have it, +madame?" + +I cannot remember. Often as I have tried, I can never quite remember. +I am not sure that I heard her whisper. But I think that I did. She +quivered under my touch, but she did not draw away, and so we stood for +a moment, while my hand wandered where it had gone in dreams and rested +on her hair. "Mary!" I whispered, and once more we let the silence lie +like a pledge between us. + +But in the moment of silence I heard again what I had forgotten,--the +roar of the camp outside. It seemed louder than it had been, and it +claimed my thought. I checked my breath to listen, holding the woman's +hand in mine. And while we listened, Cadillac's loud step and cheerful +voice came down the passage. The woman drew her hand away, and I let +her go. I let her go as if I were ashamed. I have cursed myself for +that ever since. + +Cadillac stopped. "Are you there, Montlivet?" he called. "When you +are at leisure, come to my room." I heard his step retreat. + +And then I turned to the woman. But with Cadillac's voice a change had +come. My mind was again heavy with anxiety. I remembered the +thronging Indians without, the pressing responsibilities within. I +remembered the volcano under us. For the moment I could not think of +my personal claims on the woman. I could think only of my anxiety for +her. Yet I went to her and took her hand. + +"Mary,--I am weary of madame and monsieur between us,--you are my wife. +May I talk of our future?" + +I spoke in the very words I had used the night I asked her to marry +me,--to marry me for my convenience. I remembered it as I heard my +tongue form the phrase, and it recalled my argument of that time,--that +she must marry me because my plans were more to me than her wishes. + +She withdrew from me. "Monsieur Cadillac is waiting for you. You +wield great power." + +Something new had come to her tone. I would have none of it. "Mary, +may I talk to you?" + +But still she drew away. "Monsieur, I am confused, and you are needed +elsewhere. Not to-night, I beg you, not to-night." + +I could not protest. In truth, I knew that Cadillac needed me. I went +with her to the door. + +"To-morrow, then?" I begged. "Will you listen to-morrow, madame?" + +But she had grown very white. "You are important here. There is work +for you. Be careful of your safety. Please be careful." + +I took her hand. "Thank you, madame." + +There was much in my tone that I kept out of my words, but she was not +conscious of it. She was not thinking of herself, and her eyes, that +were on mine, were full of trouble. All the restraint that the last +weeks had taught her had come back to her look. + +"You wield great power," she repeated. "You are to be the leader of +the west. I see that. But oh, be careful! Good-night, monsieur." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +OVER CADILLAC'S TABLE + +I found Cadillac writing, writing. Letters were his safety valve. I +had only to look at his table to see how much he was perturbed. + +And when I sat across from him, with the candles between, I saw that he +was also perplexed. That was unusual, for commonly he was off-hand in +his judgments, and leaped to conclusions like a pouncing cat. He +looked at me through the candle-gloom and shook his head. + +"Montlivet, you have lost twenty pounds since I saw you, and aged. Out +on you, man! It is not worth it. We live ten years in one in this +wilderness. We throw away our youth. Then we go back to France and +find ourselves old men, worn out, uncouth, out at elbows, at odds with +our generation. It is not worth it. It is not worth it, I say." + +I was impatient. "What has happened since the Senecas came?" + +He made a tired grimace. "Principally that I have not slept," he +yawned. + +"You have seen no signs of an uprising?" + +He put his head between his hands, and I saw that he was indeed weary. +"There are never signs till the uprising is on us. You know that. I +have done what I could. The guards are trebled, and we sleep on our +swords. Montlivet, tell me. What have you been doing in the west?" + +I had expected him to finesse to this question. I liked it that he +gave it to me with a naked blade. + +"I have been forming an Indian league," I answered bluntly. + +He nodded. "I know. There have been rumors. Then I knew what you did +with the St. Lawrence tribes last year. Why did you not tell me when +you went through here last spring?" + +I shook my head. "I wished to prove myself. It was an experiment. +Then I desired a free hand." + +"You did not wish my help?" + +"I wished to test the ground without entangling you. If I +failed,--why, I was nothing but a fur trader. There had been no talk, +no explanations, nothing. A trader went west; he returned. That would +end it." + +"But if you succeeded?" + +I bowed to him. "If I succeeded I intended to come to you for help and +consultation, monsieur." + +I saw his eyes gleam. The man loved war, and his imagination was +fertile as a jungle. I knew that already he had taken my small vision, +magnified it a thousand-fold, and peopled it with fantasies. That was +the man's mind. Fortunately he had humor, and that saved him,--that +and letter-writing. He tapped out his emotion through noisy +finger-tips. + +"How much are you ready to tell me now?" he asked. + +"Everything,--if you have patience." I rested my well arm on the +table, and went carefully--almost day by day--over the time that +separated me from May. I gave detail but not embroidery. Facts even +if they be numerous can be disposed of shortly, if fancy and philosophy +be put aside. So my recital did not take me long. + +The gleam was still in Cadillac's eyes. "And, you think the western +tribes would follow you now?" + +"They would have followed me a week ago." + +He heard something sinister in my reply. "You could have wiped out +that Seneca camp," he meditated. + +"Yes, it could have been done." + +He gave me a look. "The Malhominis wished it?" + +"Yes." + +"And you thought it unwise?" + +"They could not have done it without a leader. And I could not lead +them. I had to come here." + +He smote the table till the candles flared. "You were wrong. You were +wrong. You could have gathered your forces and had the attack over in +a week,--in less time. Then you could have brought your troops with +you, and come to my aid. You were wrong." + +I moved the candles out of danger. "I had to follow madame," I said +mechanically. "She might have needed me." + +Cadillac's teeth clicked. "Madame"--he began, but he swallowed the +sentence, and rose and walked the floor. "Do you realize what you have +done? Do you realize what you have done?" he boiled out at me. "This +desertion may have cost you your hold with the western tribes." + +"I realize that." + +And then he cursed till the candles flared again. "It was the chance +of a lifetime," he concluded. + +Why does the audience always feel that they understand the situation +better than the actor? I was willing enough to let Cadillac rage, but +resentful of the time he was using. + +"What happened when the Senecas came?" I demanded. + +He looked at me with puffing lips. "You know nothing?" + +"Nothing." + +"But Madame de Montlivet"---- + +"I asked her no questions." + +He whistled under his breath. "Well--nothing happened. The flotilla +reached here at sundown three days ago. The Baron and his followers +met them at the beach and rushed the Senecas into the Huron camp. They +are there now." + +"But madame and Starling?" + +"I demanded them of Pemaou, and he made no objection." + +"He made no conditions?" + +"No." + +I frowned at that and thought it over. + +"What do you make of it?" Cadillac questioned. + +But I could only say I did not know. "Pemaou is skillful about using +us as his jailers," I went on. "That may be his object now. He +evidently finds some opposition in the Huron camp, or you would have +had massacre before this." + +"You think the Senecas are here for conquest?" + +"From all I could overhear, they are here to look over the situation +and exchange peace belts with the Hurons. If they can command a +sufficient force, they will fall on us now; if not, they will rejoin +the main camp and come to us later." + +Cadillac fingered his sword. "It is rather desperate," he said +quietly, and he smiled. "But we are not conquered yet. We shall have +some scalps first." + +I shook my head. "Your sword is ever too uneasy. We may hold off an +outbreak. They have been here three days, and they have not dared act. +You wish to call a council?" + +"If you will interpret." + +"Give me a day first to see what I can learn. I shall be out at +daybreak. What does Starling say?" + +"He talks of nothing but safe conduct home. He sticks to his tale +well. He is a simple-hearted, suffering man who has found his cousin +and whose mission is over. He is grateful for our hospitality, he is +grateful to you, he is grateful to everybody. How much shall we +believe?" + +"Not more than is necessary." + +"Montlivet, be frank. What do you make of the man?" + +I looked down. "He is a compelling man. He has a hero's frame." + +"I am not blind. I asked what the frame housed." + +With hate in my throat I tried to speak justly. "He has an intelligent +mind, but a coward's spirit. I think the two elements war in him +ceaselessly. I would not trust him, monsieur. Is he on friendly terms +with Pemaou now?" + +"I do not know." + +"I wish you would find out for me. You have agents." + +"Madame de Montlivet could tell you." + +I felt Cadillac's eyes. "I shall not question Madame de Montlivet +about her cousin." + +Perhaps my tone was weary. It is hard to hold up a shield night and +day. I was conscious that Cadillac's look altered. He withdrew his +glance; he pushed a hand toward me. + +"It is a shame, Montlivet." + +"Shall we let it go without discussion, monsieur?" + +"No. Montlivet, you are more a fool than any man I ever knew. You +have more strained ideas. You are preposterous. You belong to the +Middle Ages. Every one says so. Let me speak." + +"Not about my marriage, monsieur." + +"Why not? I am responsible. I let you saddle yourself with the +situation. You did it partly to save me. You are always doing some +crack-brained thing like that. I tell you, you are more a fool than I +ever knew. Perhaps that is the reason that we all went into mourning +when we thought the Iroquois had you." + +"Monsieur! Monsieur!" + +"No, wait, wait! I got you into this, I shall get you out. Unless the +Indians make trouble I shall send Starling home with a convoy of my own +Indians. Your--the woman shall go with him. Then we will see what can +be done about the marriage. The story shall go to the Vatican." + +I moved the candles that I might see his face without the play of light +and shadow between. + +"Monsieur, you forget. The story that you speak of is mine. If I wish +to refer it to the Vatican, I, myself, take it there. As to Madame de +Montlivet,--she may wish to go east with her cousin; she may wish to +remain here. The decision will rest with her. Monsieur?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"I may depend on you not to mention what we have just said to any one?" + +He gave me his hand. "Naturally, monsieur." + +His tone touched me. + +"Then to to-morrow's work," I said briskly. "Now I am to bed. I must +rise early." + +Cadillac went with me to the door, his arm on my well shoulder. I saw +by the delay in his walk that he had more to say. It came slowly. + +"Monsieur, one word. If you do not care to see madame,--if it is +awkward---- Well, I can arrange it without gossip. You need not see +her again, and no one need know. Leave that to me." + +Not see her again! I do not know what savage, insane thing sprang to +life in me. I struck down Cadillac's arm. + +"You take liberties. You meddle insufferably. She is my wife. I will +see her when I please." + +I like to think that I was not responsible, that it was the cry of a +baited animal that could stand no more. Yet all the torture Cadillac +had been giving me had been unconscious. He stepped back and looked at +me. + +"My God! You fool!" + +Oh, I could have knelt to him for shame! My tongue began apology, but +my face told a better tale. Cadillac held up his hand. + +"Stop. Montlivet, you love the Englishwoman? Why, I thought---- I +beg your pardon. I was the fool." + +I went stumblingly toward the door before I could face him. Then I +turned and held out my hand. "There is no monopoly in fools. +Monsieur, if to love a woman, to love her against her will and your own +judgment, to love her hopelessly,--if that is folly, well, I am the +worst of fools, the most incurable. I am glad for you to know this. +Will you forget that I was a madman, monsieur?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +FROM HOUR TO HOUR + +It was well that I slept alone that night, for more than once before +day dawned I found myself with my feet on the floor and my free arm +searching for a knife. I had flouted at imagination, but now every +howling dog became an Indian raising the death cry. I asked Cadillac +to double the guard before the woman's quarters, but even then I slept +with an ear pricked for trouble. And I was abroad early. + +There are no straight roads in the wilderness; all trails are devious. +So with an Indian's mind. I sat in Longuant's skin-roofed lodge and +filled hours with talk of Singing Arrow. The girl was to wed Pierre at +noon the next day. The marriage was to be solemnized in the chapel the +next afternoon, and the whites were to attend. The affair was perhaps +worth some talk, if Longuant and I had been squaws yawning over our +basket-work. But we were men with knives, and Fear was whispering at +our shoulders. + +The sun climbed, and noises and odors of midday came in the tent door. +I plumped out a direct question. + +"The tree of friendship that grows for the Ottawas and the French,--are +its roots deep, Longuant?" + +The old chief looked at me. "What has my brother seen?" + +"The Iroquois wolf, my brother. The Iroquois wolf snapping at the +roots of this stately tree. What will the Ottawas do, Longuant? Will +they drive the wolf away?" + +The chief still studied me. "When a tree is healthy," he argued, "a +wolf cannot harm it; as well dread the butterfly that lights on its +leaves or the ant that runs around its trunk. It is only when a tree +is unsound at heart that the snapping of a wolf can jar it. And an +unsound tree is dangerous. My brother will agree that it is best to +cut it down." + +I rose. "The wolf can do more than snap; his fangs are poisoned. +Listen, my brother. This tree of friendship is dear to me. I have +given labor to preserve it; I have watered it; I have killed the +insects and small pests that would have nibbled at its branches. Now +that I see its roots threatened, my heart is heavy and the sun looks +dim. Can my brother brighten the world for me? Can he tell me that my +fears are light as mist?" + +Longuant looked at the ground. In repose his face was very sad, as are +the faces of most savage leaders. + +"I have only two eyes, two ears," he crooned monotonously. "My brother +has as many. Let him use them." + +"And you will not lift your hatchet to save the tree?" + +Longuant raised his eyes. "The hatchet of the Ottawas is always +bright. My brethren will hold it in readiness. If the tree looks +strong and worth saving, they will raise the hatchet and defend it. If +the tree is unsound, they will put the hatchet at its roots." + +Well, I had my answer. And, to be just, I could not blame them. The +Ottawas were never a commanding people. Their chief was wise to throw +his vote with the winning side. But I turned away saddened. + +Longuant followed. "There is always a bed in the lodges of the Ottawas +for my brother of the red heart. Will he sleep in it?" + +I turned. "Would my head be safer if I did, O brother of the wise +tongue?" + +"My brother has said it." + +I took a Flemish knife from my pocket and handed it to him. + +"Take it, my brother, for my gratitude. It shall not cut the +friendship between us. It shall cut any stranger that would come +between your heart and mine. Longuant, I have a wife. She is fair, +and stars shine in her eyes. She has loved a daughter of your people. +I cannot hide in your lodge,--a man who carries a sword must use +it,--but will you take my wife and keep her? Will you keep her with +Singing Arrow for a few days?" + +Longuant thought a moment. He looked at the knife as if it were a +talisman to teach him how much he could trust me; he tried its edge, +put it in his pouch, and made up his mind. + +"My brother is keen and true as the blade of the knife. I will tell +him a story, a story that the birds sang. The eagle once married. He +married one of the family of the hawk. But the hawk found the eagle's +nest too high, so she flew lower to a nest near her own kin. Listen. +So long as the hawk stays near the hawk and is not seen with the eagle, +the wolf will spare her. But when she comes back to the eagle's nest +in the high tree, then let her beware. I have spoken. Now let my +brother go on his way and see what his eyes and ears can teach him." + +But I went my way with thought busier than eyes. So I must keep away +from the woman. I went to my room, found paper and a quill, and wrote +to her. It was the first time I had written her name. It seemed +foreign to me, almost a sad jest, as it flowed out under my hand. + +"I cannot come to you to-day," I wrote; "perhaps not for some days to +come. I shall be watching you, guarding you. I think I can assure you +that you are in no danger. For the rest, I must beg of you to wait for +me and to trust me. The women of the name you bear have often had the +same burden laid on them and have carried it nobly. Yet I know that +your courage will match and overreach anything they have shown. I +salute you, madame, in homage. I shall come to you the moment that I +may." + +I subscribed myself her husband. Yet even the Indians gossiped that +the eagle's nest was empty. Well, I had work on hand. + +So I found Cadillac. I told him in five minutes what it had taken me +five hours to learn. + +"We must give our strength now to winning the Hurons," I said. "I will +work with them this afternoon. If we can get through this one night +safely I think we can carry the council." + +Cadillac shrugged, but sped me on my way. "Be careful of to-night. Be +careful of to-night," he repeated monotonously. His eyes were growing +bloodshot from anxiety and loss of sleep. + +The afternoon slipped away from me like running water, yet I wasted no +word or look. I dropped my old custom of letting my tongue win the way +for my ears, and I dealt out blunt questions like a man at a forge. At +one point I was foiled. I could not discover whether Starling--whom +personally I had not seen--was in communication with the Hurons. + +The sun set, the sky purpled, and the moon rose. It rose white and +beautiful, and it shone on a peaceful settlement. I went to my room +and found a Huron squatting on my threshold. He gave me a handful of +maize. + +"Our chief, whom you call the Baron, sends this to you," he said. "He +bids you eat the corn, and swallow with it the suspicion that you feel. +You have sat all day with other chiefs, but your brother the Baron has +not seen you. His lodge cries out with emptiness. He bids you come to +him now." + +I thought a moment. "Go in front of me," I told the Huron. + +I whistled as I went. A sheep that goes to the shambles of its own +accord deserves to be butchered, and I was walking into ambush. But +still I whistled. I whistled the same tune again and again, and I did +it with great lung power. My progress was noisy. + +And so we went through the Huron camp. The lodges of the Baron's +followers were massed to one side, and as I whistled and swaggered my +way past their great bark parallelograms, I saw preparations for war. +The braves carried quivers, and were elaborately painted. Fires were +burning, though the night was warm, and women nearly naked, and +swinging kettles of red-hot coals, danced heavily around the blaze. +They leered at me when they heard my whistle, but they made no attempt +to hide from me. Evidently I was not important; I was not to be +allowed to go back to the French camp alive, so I could do no harm. I +whistled the louder. + +I reached the Baron's lodge, and looked within. Two fires blazed in +the centre, and some fifty Indians sat in council. I would not enter. +The smoke and fire were in my eyes, but I recognized several of the +younger chiefs, and called them by name. + +"Come out here to me," I commanded. "I will show you something." + +There was a grunting demur, and no one rose. I whistled again and +stopped to laugh. The laugh pricked their curiosity, and the chiefs +straggled out. They stood in an uncertain group and looked at me. It +was dark; the moon was still low, and the shadows black and sprawling. +The open doors of the lodges sent out as much smoke as fireshine. + +I let them look for a moment, then I took the handful of maize and +threw it in their faces. "Listen!" I cried. "Chiefs, you are +traitors. You eat the bread of the French, yet you would betray them. +You plan an uprising to-night. Well, you will find us ready. I +whistled as I came to you. That was a signal. You think you can +overpower us. Try it. Seize me, if you like. If you do, I shall give +one more whistle, and my troops--the loyal Indians--will go to work. +You can see them gathering. Look." + +I waved my hand at the murk around us. My words were brave but my +flesh was cold. I had told them to look, but what would they see? +Would my men be loyal? Then the signal,--it had been hastily agreed +upon,--would they understand it? I had to push myself around like a +dead body to face what I might find. + +For a moment I thought that I had found nothing. But I looked again, +and saw that my eyes had been made blank by fear. For my men were +massed to east and west. They pressed nearer and nearer, and the moon +picked out points of light that marked knives and arquebuses. Some +wore uniforms, and some were naked and vermilion-dyed, but all were +watching me. I could not see their eyes, but I was conscious of them. + +I pointed the chiefs to the prospect. "You see. I have only to +whistle, and we shall settle this question of who is master here. +Seize me, and I shall whistle. But I shall do nothing till you move +first. If we are to have war, you must begin it. Are you ready?" + +Silence followed. It was a hard silence to me to get through calmly, +for I knew that my men were not so numerous as they appeared, and I +feared to be taken at my word. Pemaou glided up and spoke to his +father. I had not seen him since the night in the Seneca camp, and I +argued with myself to keep my head cool so that I should not spring on +him. His body was blackened with charcoal, and he wore a girdle of +otter skin with the body of a crow hanging from it. I had sometimes +been called the crow because of my many tongues, and I understood his +meaning. But I could only stand waiting, and the moments went on and +on. + +It was a small thing that determined the issue. In the distance Pierre +began to whistle,--Pierre, the bridegroom of the morrow, the merry +bully of the night. He had a whistle in keeping with his breadth of +shoulder, and he used it like a mating cock. He whistled my tune, the +signal. It was not accident, I think, neither was it design. It was +his unconscious, blundering black art, his intuition that was +witchcraft. + +The Baron drew himself up. He put out a protesting hand, and his +dignity of gesture would have shamed an Israelitish patriarch. + +"We called our brother to council. What does our brother mean? He is +moon-mad when he talks of war in the house of his friends, the Hurons." + +I yawned in his face. "You called me to council? But the council is +to-morrow night. The commandant calls it. Save your fair words for +him." + +I turned on my heel to leave, but the Baron held me. He eyed me above +his blanket. + +"My brother has been called the man who steals the Indian's heart from +his body," he purred at me. "He has stolen mine. The commandant is a +fool; I cannot talk to him. But to you, my brother, I can open my +heart. Come with me to my lodge and listen. You shall be safe. In +token of my love I give you this calumet," and he took his great +feathered pipe--the pipe that means honor to the lowest of savages--and +would have thrust it in my hands. + +I was too nonplussed to remember to laugh. An offer to buy me, and +from the Indian who hated me most! They must indeed be afraid of +me,--and with what little cause. Where had my reputation come? I knew +my own weakness. Well, I must play on my fame while it lasted. So, +without deigning to answer, I turned away. My troops hedged me like a +wall as I went back to the French camp, but I did not speak to them. +It was strange to see them melt before me. I did not wonder that the +Hurons smelled witchcraft where, in fact, there was only bluster and a +pleading tongue. + +I stood for a moment and looked at the garrison. The moon had crept +high and the place was very still. We were safe for the night. I lit +my pipe, and the smoke that spiraled above me did not seem more filmy +than the chance that had saved us. I suddenly shivered. But we were +safe. I gave the troops the signal to disband. + +I stopped for a moment at Cadillac's door. "Sleep well," I said, with +my hand on his; "we have bridged to-night. Now for the council +tomorrow." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +IN COUNCIL + +The next morning showed the face of War without her mask. The Indians +sat in open council, and the tom-toms sounded from lodge to lodge. In +the Huron camp there were council rings of the women; it was a tribal +crisis and was met by a frenzy of speech-making. As a rival interest +Singing Arrow's wedding made little stir. + +I went to the wedding and saw Pierre the savage transformed into Pierre +the citizen, the yoke-bearer. I feared the transformation was not +final. Yet I could never read my giant. There were unexpected ridges +of principle in the general slough of his makeup and perhaps the Indian +girl was resting on one of them. + +The woman came to the wedding, Starling with her. I bowed to them +both, but I would do no more, for the Indians were watching. The woman +looked pale and grave. I had seen her angry and I had seen her +despairing, but I had never before seen her dispirited. She looked so +now. + +And then came the general council with Cadillac in the chair. It was +held in a barrack room and the tribes had forty chiefs in waiting. +There were Ottawas, Hurons, and the party of Senecas. Feathered and +painted, they were as expressionless as the stone calumets in their +hands; by contrast, our French faces were childishly open and +expressive. + +Cadillac looked them over and began his speech. Commonly his tongue +ran trippingly, but with the opening words his speech halted. I knew +he was moved. With all his volubility the man took responsibility +heavily, and these strange bronze men with their cruel eyes and +impassive faces were his wards. He spoke in French, and I translated +first to the Hurons, then to the Ottawas. He called the tribes to aid +him in brightening the covenant chain, and his rhetoric mounted with +his theme till I felt my blood heat with admiration for him. He +concluded with a plea for loyalty, and he gave each nation a belt to +bind his words. + +And then the chiefs rose in reply. The Hurons spoke first, and though +they hedged their meaning by look and word I could feel the sentiment +swaying toward our side. They brought up many minor points and gave +belts in confirmation. Kondiaronk's clan were openly friendly, openly +touched by Cadillac's speech, and when one of the Baron's band took the +cue and gave a wampum necklace, "to deter the French brothers from +unkind thoughts," I felt that the worst of the day was over, and +welcomed the Ottawa speakers with a relaxation of the tension that had +held me, for I had been upon the rack. Mind and ear had been taxed to +miss no word or intonation, for a slighted syllable might lose our +cause. The speeches had droned like flies at midday, but all the +verbiage had been heavy with significance. I spoke French, Huron, and +Ottawa in turn, and through it all I listened, listened for the opening +of the door. + +For Cadillac had told me that Madame de Montlivet had asked if she +might come in for a moment and listen to the council, and he had +referred the matter to me. It had seemed a strange request, but I +could see no reason for refusing it. The woman had seen Indians in +camp and field; it was perhaps no wonder that she wished to see the +machinery of their politics. It was agreed that Dubisson should bring +her in for a short time. + +Yet when she did come in I could not look at her. Longuant had just +finished speaking, and I had all my mind could handle to do him justice +as I wished. He spoke as the moderate leader who desired that his +people leave the hatchet unlifted if they could do so with safety. He +gave a robe stained with red to show that his people remembered the +French who had died for them. + +I knew, as I repeated Longuant's speech, that I was doing it well, +helping it out with trick and metaphor. And I also knew, with a shrug +for my childishness, that my wits were working more swiftly than they +had, because the woman was listening. I saw the whole scene with added +vividness and significance because her eyes rested on it, too. Once I +glanced up and looked at her briefly. Day had slipped into dusk, and +the bare, shadow-haunted room was lighted with torches stuck in the +crannies of the log walls. The flaring light lapped her like a waving +garment and showed her daintily erect, silk-clad, elate and resolute, a +flower of a carefully tended civilization. And then my eyes went back +where they belonged, to the lines of warriors robed like senators, +attentive and august, full of wisdom where the woman knew nothing, yet +blank as animals to the treasures of her mind. The contrast thrilled +through me like a violin note. I heard my tongue use imagery that I +did not know was in me. The woman waited till I was through, and I +could feel that she was listening. Then she turned with Dubisson and +they went out of the door. + +Longuant was the last of our garrison Indians to speak, and when he +finished it remained to Cadillac to sum up the situation. He picked +out the oldest men from each delegation and stood before them. Yet, +though he spoke to all, it was at Longuant that he looked. + +"Listen," he said. "Hast ever seen the moon in the lake when the +evening is clear and the weather calm? It appears in the water, yet +nothing is truer than that it is in the sky. Some among you are very +old; but know, that were you all to return to early youth and take it +into your heads to fish up the moon in the lake, you would more easily +succeed in scooping that planet up in your nets than in effecting what +you are ruminating now. In vain do you fatigue your brains. You +cannot live with the bear and share your food with the wolf. You must +choose. Be assured of this; the English and French cannot be in the +same place without killing one another." + +There was more in the same vein. Only one nation could hold the +country for the fur trade. If the French were that nation the Indians +would be protected, their fighting men would be given arms, their +families would be cared for, the great father at Quebec would reward +them as brothers. He gave the Hurons and Ottawas each a war belt to +testify to his intention. + +Here was the crisis. But each tribe took the belt and kept it. I +could scarcely forbear glancing at Cadillac. But I dared not be too +elated, for we had yet the Senecas to deal with. Cadillac turned to +them and asked their mission among us. He did it briefly, and I hoped +they would answer with equal bluntness, for I dreaded this part of the +council. All of the Iroquois nations were trained rhetoricians, and I +would need a long ear to catch their verbal quibbles and see where +their sophistry was hiding. + +Cannehoot, their oldest chief, spoke for them all. He made proposal +after proposal with belts and tokens to seal them. His speech was +moderate, but his ideas crowded; it was hard to keep them in sequence. + +They had come to learn wisdom of us. They gave a belt. + +They had come to wipe the war paint from our soldiers' faces. They +gave another belt. + +They wished the sun to shine on us. They gave a large marble as red as +the sun. + +They wished the rain of heaven to wash away hatred. They gave a chain +of wampum. + +And so on and on and on. They gave belts, beavers, trinkets. They had +peace in their mouths and kindness in their hearts. They desired to +tie up the hatchet, to sweep the road between the French and themselves +free from blood. But with that clause they gave no belt. They made no +mention of the English prisoners, and they desired to close their +friendly visit and to go home. + +Cadillac looked at them with contempt. He was always too choleric to +hide his mind, and he answered with little pretense at civility. He +gave them permission to go home, and sent a knife by them to their +kindred. It was not for war, he told them, but that they might cut the +veil that hung before their eyes, and see things as they really were. +He left their belts lying on the floor, and dismissed the council. He +motioned to me to follow, and we went at once to his room. + +And alone in his room we looked at each other with relief. We had +gained one point, and though the road was long ahead, we could breathe +for a moment. We had not healed the sore, but it was covered, +cauterized. We dropped into chairs and sought our pipes. + +But Cadillac's fingers were soon drumming. "It was odd that they did +not demand the English prisoners," he said. + +I felt placid enough as regarded that point. "They did not dare. When +do the Senecas leave?" + +"To-morrow morning. Oh, Montlivet, it grinds me to let them go!" + +I shrugged at his choler. "We will follow," I comforted. "We will +overtake them at La Baye." + +"But suppose they leave La Baye. They may break camp at once and push +on. We may miss them." + +I smoked, and shook my head. "If they do, we cannot help it. But I +think there is no danger. They will want to halt some time at La Baye, +and try for terms with those tribes. My work there has been +secret,--even Pemaou does not seem to know of it,--and they do not +suspect a coalition. So they feel safe. I think that we shall find +them." + +And then we sat for a time in silence. I stared at the future, and saw +a big decision beetling before me. When I dread a moment, I rush to +meet it, which is the behavior of a spoiled boy. + +"You will get rid of Starling to-morrow?" I asked. + +Cadillac nodded. "Yes. He is best out of the way, and, though I see +nothing to mistrust in the man, I shall feel better if he goes east +while the Senecas go west." + +"How will you send him?" + +"To Montreal with an escort of Ottawas. From there he can make his own +way." + +I looked down. "Madame de Montlivet may wish to go at the same time. +You must arrange for her also if she wishes." + +Cadillac shrugged. "You leave the decision with her?" + +"Absolutely, monsieur." + +Cadillac rapped his knuckles together. "Don't run romanticism into the +ground, Montlivet." + +But my inflammable temper did not rise. "A woman certainly has some +right of selection. Starling says that I forced her to marry me. That +is substantially true. What time do you plan to have Starling leave?" + +"As early as possible. I shall not tell him tonight. It will take a +little time to get the canoes in readiness." + +"Then I shall see Madame de Montlivet in the morning, as early as +possible. I shall let you know her decision at once, monsieur." + +"Montlivet, she will need time to consider." + +I shook my head. "She has thought the matter out. I think her answer +will be ready." And then we said good-night. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +CHILDREN OF OPPORTUNITY + +It was but little after dawn the next morning when I met Madame de +Montlivet in the waiting-room of the commandant. + +It was a crisp, clear morning, blue of water and sky. I stood at the +window and looked at the water-way that led to the east, and waited for +my wife. I had several speeches prepared for her, but when she came I +said none of them. I took her hand and led her to the window. + +"Look at the path of the sun, madame. It was just such a morning when +you came to me first." + +Her hand lingered a moment in mine. "I came to the most gallant +gentleman that I have ever known." + +With all the kindness of her words there was something in them that +spoke of parting. "Then will you stay with him?" I cried. "Mary, I +know no gallant gentleman. To me he seems much a fool and a dreamer. +But such as he is he is loyally yours. Will you stay with him? Or +will you start for Montreal this morning with your cousin?" + +"This morning?" + +"Yes, as soon as the canoes can be made ready. I did not know this +till after midnight. I wish I might have warned you." + +"This is warning enough. I was sure that this was what you had to tell +me when you asked for me so early. There is but one thing for me to +do. I must go with my cousin." + +I heard the words, but I felt incredulous, stupid. I was prepared to +meet this decision after argument, not to have it fall on me in this +leaden way. I dropped her hand and walked to and fro. It was useless +to ask if she had thought out her decision carefully. Her tone +disposed of that. I went back and stood before her. + +"The question is yours to decide. Yet I should be a strange man if I +let you go without being sure I understood your motives. If you go +because you wish to be free from me,--that is all that need be said. +But if I have failed to woo you as a man should---- You sealed my +lips. Will you let me open them now?" + +Perhaps my hand went out to her. At all events she drew away, and I +thought her look frightened, as if something urged her to me that she +must resist. + +"No, no, you must not woo me, you must not. I beg you, monsieur." + +I looked at her panic and shook my head. + +"Why do you fear to love me, to yield to me? You are my wife." + +"I told you. I told you the day--the last day that we were together in +the woods. It would be a tragedy if we loved, monsieur." + +"But you are my wife." + +She looked at me. The light from the window fell full in her great +eyes, and they were the eyes of the boy who had looked up at me in that +very room; the boy who had captured me, against my reason, by his +spirit and will, I felt the same challenge now. + +"I am your wife, yes," she was saying slowly. "That is, the priest +said some words over us that we both denied in our hearts. I cannot +look at marriage in that way, monsieur. No priest, no ritual can make +a marriage if the right thing is not there. The fact that you gave me +your name to shield me does not give me a claim on you in my mind. +Wait. Let me say more. You have great plans, great opportunity. You +will make a great leader, monsieur." + +Her words sounded mockery. "Thank you, madame." I knew my tone was +bitter. + +She looked at me reproachfully. "Monsieur, you are unkind. I meant +what I said. I heard you in the council yesterday. I asked to go in +that I might hear you. I know something of what you have done this +summer. I know how you fended away massacre the other night. This is +a crucial time, and you are the only man who can handle the situation; +the only man who has influence to lead the united tribes. Your +opportunity is wonderful. You are making history. You may be changing +the map of nations, you--alone here--working with a few Indians. +Believe me, I see it all. It is wonderful, monsieur." + +"But what has this to do with you and me?" + +"Just this, monsieur. I cannot forget my blood. I am an Englishwoman. +I come of a family that has chosen exile rather than yield a point of +honor that involved the crown. I have been bred to that idea of +country, nurtured on it. Could I stay with you and see you work +against my people? If I were a different sort of woman; if I were the +gentle girl that you should marry,--one who knew no life but flattery +and courts, like the lady of the miniature,--why, then it might be +possible for me to think of you only in relation to myself, and to +forget all that you stood for. But I am--what I am. I have known +tragedy and suffering. I cannot blind myself with dreams as a girl +might, and I understand fully the significance of what you are doing. +We should have a divided hearth, monsieur." + +She had made her long speech with breaks, but I had not interrupted +her. And now that she had finished I did not speak till she looked at +me in wonder. + +"I am thinking. I see that it comes to this, madame. I must renounce +either my work or my wife." + +She suddenly stretched out her hand. "Oh, I would not have you +renounce your work, monsieur!" + +A chair stood in front of her, and I brushed it away and let it clatter +on the floor. + +"Mary! Mary, you love me!" + +"No, no!" she cried. "No, monsieur, it need not mean I love you,--it +need not." She fled from me and placed a table between us. "Surely a +woman can understand a man's power, and glory in it--yes, glory in it, +monsieur--without loving the man!" + +"But if you did love me,--if you did love me, what then?" + +"Oh, monsieur, the misery of it for us if we loved! I have seen it +from the beginning, though at times I forgot. For there is nothing for +us but to part." + +"Many women have forgotten country for their husbands. The world has +called them wise." + +She put out her hand. "Not in my family, monsieur." + +And then the face of Lord Starling came before me. "You have changed +from the woman of the wilderness. You changed when you put on this +gown. You were different even three days ago. Some influence has +worked on you here." + +She understood me. "Yes, my cousin has talked to me. Yet I think that +I am not echoing him, monsieur. If I have hardened in the last few +days, it is because I have come to see the inevitableness of what I am +saying now. I have grasped the terrible significance of what is +happening. May I ask you some questions?" + +"Yes, Mary." + +"Oh, you must not---- The Seneca messengers, you will let them go back +and rejoin their camp?" + +"We can do nothing else." + +"And you will follow them, and attack them at La Baye?" + +"So we plan." + +"But the Senecas trust you." + +"Not for a moment. They think we fear their power over the Hurons,--as +we do,--so they are reckless. They are undoubtedly carrying peace +belts from our Hurons to the Iroquois and the English. We must +intercept them." + +She tried to ward my words, and all that they stood for, away. "You +see! You see!" she cried, "we must part. We must part while we can. +Monsieur, say no more. I beg you, monsieur." And she dropped in a +chair by the table and laid her head in her arms. + +I could say nothing. I stood helpless and dizzy. I had asked her to +forget her country. Yet not once had she asked me to forget mine. If +I gave up my plans I could go to her now and draw her to my breast. I +gripped the table, and I did not see clearly. To save her life I had +jeopardized my plans; to follow her here I had jeopardized them again. +But now that I knew her to be safe---- No, I could not turn back; I +must walk the path I had laid for myself. + +"What will you do with yourself, with your life?" I asked with stiff +lips. + +She did not raise her head. "We are both children of opportunity. +What is left either of us but ambition, monsieur?" + +"You will help your cousin in his plans?" + +"If he will work for the state." + +"But you will not marry him?" + +"Monsieur, I bear your name! That--that troubles me sorely. To bear +your name yet work against France! Yet what can I do?" + +I touched her hair. "Carry my name and do what you will. I shall +understand. As to what the world thinks,--we are past caring for that, +madame." + +And then for a time we sat silent. I thought, with stupid iteration, +of how like a jest this had sounded when the woman said it to me in the +forest: a matter for coquetry, a furnishing of foils for the game. If +I had realized then---- But no, what could I have done? + +One thing my thought cried incessantly,--women were not made for +patriotism. Yet even as accompaniment to the thought, a long line of +women who had given up life and family for country passed before my +memory. Could I say that this woman beside me had not equal spirit? + +It seemed long that we sat there, though I think that it was not. I +laid my hand on hers, and she turned her palm that she might clasp my +fingers. + +"You have never failed me, never, never," she whispered. "You are not +failing me now." And then I heard Starling's voice at the door calling +my name. + +I opened to him mechanically, and accepted his pleasant phrases with a +face like wood, though my manner was apt enough, I think. I had no +feeling as regarded him; all my thought was with the woman by the table. + +He went to her with his news, but she interrupted him. "I know." Her +face was as expressionless as my own. "I am going with you," she said +to him. "When do we leave?" + +"In a few minutes." He looked from one to the other of us, and if he +could not probe the situation it was perhaps no wonder. We had +forgotten him, and we sat like dead people. For once his tremendous, +compelling presence was ignored, yet my tongue replied to him +courteously, and I could not but admit the perfection of his attitude. +He deplored the necessity that took his cousin from me; he, and all of +his people, labored under great indebtedness to me. He was dignified, +direct of thought and speech. The man whom I had seen by the dead +ashes of the camp fire; the man who had held my wife's miniature, and +taunted me with what it meant,--that man was gone. This was an elder +brother, a grave elder brother, chastened by suffering. + +The woman closed the scene. "I am prepared to go with you," she told +him. "I shall wait here till the canoes are ready. Will you leave me +with my husband?" + +She had never before said "husband" in my hearing. As soon as the door +clicked behind Starling I went to her. I knelt and laid my cheek on +her hand. + +"You are going to stay with me, Mary. You are my wife. You cannot +escape that. It is fundamental. Patriotism is a man-made feeling. +You are going to stay with me. I am going now to tell Cadillac." + +But I could feel her tremble. "If you say more, I must leave you. You +cannot alter my mind. What has come must come. Can we not sit +together in silence till I go?" + +And so I sat beside her. "You are a strange woman," I said at length. + +She looked at me as if to plead her own cause. "Strange events have +made me. I cannot marvel if you are bitter, for I have brought you +unhappiness. Yet it was in this room that I asked you to remember that +I went with you against my will." + +"I remember." + +"And will you remember what--what I have seen? Is it strange that I +understand; that I know we must part?" + +I shook my head. "It is your cousin's mind impressed on yours that +tells you that we must part,--that and your unfathomable spirit,--the +spirit that carried you in man's dress through those weeks as a +captive. It is that same spirit that will bring you back to me some +day." + +"Monsieur!" + +"That will bring you back." + +"Monsieur, no. I cannot change myself." + +"Would I have you change? Mary, Mary! I took you as a boy with me to +the wilderness because you had an unbreakable will and a fanatic's +courage. Yet this is not the end. It is not the end." + +She did not answer, and again she laid her head on the table. We had +but a few minutes left now. I saw her look up at me twice before I +heard her whisper, "Monsieur, you said that I loved you. But you never +said that you"---- + +"Would it change your decision if I said it now?" + +"No, no! It could not." + +I slipped to my knees and laid my lips on her clasped hands. "You are +part of me. You go with me whether you will or no. You are in the red +sunsets that we saw together, and in the white dawns when we ate our +meal and meat side by side. You are fettered to me. I cannot rid +myself of your presence for a moment. I shall tell you more of this +when you come to me again." + +She bent to me with the color driven from her lips. "Don't! Don't! +We will learn to forget. We are both rulers of our wills. We will +learn to forget. Wait---- Are they calling me?" + +We listened. Cadillac was at the door. We both rose. + +"In a moment," I called to him. Then I turned. "Whatever happens, +keep to the eastward. Don't let your Indians turn. Refuse, and make +Starling refuse, to listen to any change of plan." + +She was trembling. She seemed not to hear me, and I said the words +again. "You must promise. You are not to go to the west." + +And then she put out her hands to me. "Yes, yes, I understand. I +promise. I shall not go west. But, monsieur, do not--do not go with +me to the shore. Let me go alone. Let us part here." + +I could have envied her the power to tremble. I felt like stone. I +had but one arm, but I drew her to me till I felt her heart on mine. +"This is not the end. This is not the end. But till you come to me +again"---- And I would have laid my lips on hers. + +But she was out of my grasp. "We--we---- It was a compact. If we---- +If we did that, we could not part. Good-by, monsieur. I beg you not +to go with me. God be with you. God be with you, monsieur." + +I followed to the door and held to its casing as I looked after her. +She had met Cadillac, and was walking with him. She, whom I had always +seen erect, was leaning on his arm. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +I FOLLOW MY PATH + +A full hour later I went to Cadillac. "I am leaving," I said. "I am +taking Pierre. The Ottawa girl, his wife, says she is going with us. +It is foolish,--but Pierre wishes it. He is dough in her hands." + +Cadillac shook my well shoulder. "Go to bed for a day. You are ash +color." + +"No, I must be on my way. The time is short enough as it is. Have the +Senecas gone?" + +"No, it will be some hours before they are ready. If you start now, +you will be enough in advance to keep out of sight." + +I could not forbear a shrug. "Three hours' start to collect an army! +Well, it shall serve. And you follow to-morrow?" + +Cadillac gave a trumpeting laugh. "Yes, tomorrow. I shall take a +hundred men and leave a hundred here for guard. I have made +arrangements. Longuant leads the Ottawas, and old Kondiaronk the loyal +Hurons. Where shall we meet you?" + +"I cannot tell. Stop at the Pottawatamie Islands and Onanguissé will +know. Keep watch of Pemaou. He will make trouble if he can." + +Cadillac looked at the horizon. "Montlivet, I have bad news. Pemaou +has gone." + +"Gone! Where?" + +"I don't know. To the Seneca camp, probably. His canoes have just +left." + +I tapped the ground. I was tired and angry. "You should have +prevented such a possibility," I let myself say. + +But he kept his temper. "What could I have done?" he asked quietly. +"I have no authority in my garrison." + +I regretted my outburst. "You could not have done anything," I +hastened. "And if Pemaou has indeed gone to the Senecas, it is good +news for me. I am impatient for a meeting with him that I did not dare +have here for fear of entangling myself and losing time. I shall hope +for an encounter in the west. And now I am away, monsieur." + +I wished to leave with as little stir as possible, so Pierre took the +canoe around the point, and I joined him there. To reach the +rendezvous I walked through the old maize field where I had met the +English captive. It had been moonlight then. Now it was hot noon, and +the waves of light made me faint. I had forgotten breakfast. I cursed +myself at the omission, for I needed strength. + +But I was not to leave quite unattended. When I reached the canoe, I +found Father Carheil talking to Singing Arrow. I was glad to see him. +There was something that propped my pride and courage in his irritable, +tender greeting. + +He pressed a vial into my hands. "It is confection of Jacinth. It has +great virtue. Take it with you, my son." + +I knelt. "I would rather take your blessing, father." + +He gave it to me, and his old hands trembled. "Come back, my son. +Come back safely. You will return this way?" + +I looked off at the blue, beckoning west. "I do not know, father. I +go without ties or responsibilities. I am not sure where I shall end. +I doubt that I return this way." + +"But where, my son? Where do you go?" + +I pointed, and his mystic glance followed my hand. "Out there in the +blue, father,--somewhere. I don't know where. It has beckoned you +thus far; can you resist its cry to you to come farther and force its +secrets from it?" + +He clutched his rosary, and I knew I had touched one of his +temptations. He loved the wilderness as I have never seen it loved. +Even his fellow priests and the few soldiers and traders crowded him. +He wanted the land alone,--alone with his Indians. He would not look +at the blue track. + +"It is the path of ambition, and it is strewn with wrecks. Come back +to us here, my son." + +But I would not look away from the west. "Some day I shall come back. +Not now. Father, I married Ambition. She lives in the wilderness. I +think I shall abide with her the next year." + +He frowned at me. "Where has Madame de Montlivet gone?" + +"She has started for her home in England, father." + +He tapped his teeth with his forefinger. "You sent a curious guard +with her. Take the advice of an old man who has lived among Indians. +It is usually unwise to mix tribes." + +"What do you mean?" + +"You should have sent a guard of Ottawas with your wife and Starling." + +"They were all Ottawas." + +"No, they were more than half Hurons. I counted." + +I jammed my teeth together and tried to think. I had just said that +the west was calling me, that I was untrammeled. Untrammeled! Why, I +was enmeshed, choked by conflicting duties. I put my head back, and +breathed hard. + +"Father, are you sure? Cadillac himself saw to it that they were all +Ottawas." + +The priest stepped forward and wiped his handkerchief across my face. +It was wet. "My son, take this more calmly. Cadillac does not know +one Indian from another. Does this mean harm?" + +I shook the sweat from my fingers. "I do not know what it means. But +I must go west. I must. Hundreds of men depend on me. Father +Carheil?" + +"Yes, my son." + +"I bound you once on this very spot. May I bind you again?" + +"With promises?" + +"Yes. Will you see Cadillac at once, tell him what you know, and have +a company of Ottawas sent in pursuit of Lord Starling? Will you +yourself see that it is rightly done?" + +His foot drummed a tattoo. "I ask no favors of the commandant." + +"Father!" + +"Oh yes, I"---- + +"Then go at once, I beg you. Hasten." + +He shook his head at me, but he turned and ran. I watched him a +moment, then I stepped in the canoe. + +"I will take a paddle," I told Pierre. "I can do something with my +left hand. Singing Arrow must take one, too." + +It had come to me before in my life to be compelled to force the +apparently impossible out of opportunity. But never had I asked myself +to attempt such a task as this. I had only one day the start of +Cadillac, and in that time I must collect an army. But if success were +within human reach I was well armored to secure it, for I carried a +desperate heart. + +So if I say we went swiftly, it conveys no meaning of what we really +accomplished. We paddled as long as our arms would obey us, slept +sparingly, and paddled again. Singing Arrow was worth two men. She +paddled for us, cooked for us, and packed the bales when our hands +blundered with weariness. She was tireless. + +And watching her I saw something lived before me day by day that I had +tried to forget was in the world. There was love between this Indian +woman and my peasant Pierre. They had found the real love, the love +that is wine and meat. It was very strange. Pierre was quiet, and he +was wont to be boisterous, but he looked into the girl's eyes, and I +saw that both of them forgot that the hours of work were long. I have +not seen this miracle many times, though I have seen many marriages. +What had Pierre done that he should find it? + +Well, the west called me. And if a man whines under his luck, that +proves that he deserves all that has happened. + +And so we reached the Pottawatamie Islands. + +We were so cramped and exhausted that we staggered as we tried to walk +from the canoe, yet we remained at the islands but an hour. And in +that hour I talked to Onanguissé and the old men, and perfected our +plans. When we embarked again we had two large canoes with +strong-armed Pottawatamies at the paddles. We were on our way to the +Malhominis, and I slept most of the distance, for nature was in revolt. +Yet through all my heavy slumber droned the voice of Onanguissé, and +always he repeated what he had said when we parted. + +"I called her the turtle dove. But at heart she was an eagle. Did you +ask her to peck and twitter like a tame robin? I could have told you +that she would fly away." + +We reached the mouth of the Wild Rice River at evening, and pushed up +through the reeds in the darkness. I knew if Pemaou was lying in +ambush for me this would be the place for him. But we reached the +village safely, so I said to myself that the Huron had grown +slow-witted. + +In other times, in times before the broth of life had lost its salt, I +should have enjoyed that moment of entry into the Malhominis camp. The +cry that met me was of relief and welcome, but I ignored all greetings +till I had pushed my way to the pole where the dried band of rushes +still hung. I tore it away, and hung a silver chain in its place. +"Brother!" I said to Outchipouac, and he gave me his calumet in answer. + +And then I had ado to compel a hearing. The Malhominis repented their +injustice, and would have overpowered me with rejoicings and flattery, +but I made them understand at last that I had but two hours to spend +with them, and they quieted like children before a tutor. My first +question was for news of Labarthe and Leclerc, but I learned nothing. +Indeed, the Malhominis could tell me nothing of the Seneca camp beyond +the fact that it was still there. They had cowered in their village +dreading a Seneca attack, and they were feverishly anxious for +concerted action. They suggested that I save time by sending +messengers to the Chippewas and Winnebagoes, while I went myself to the +Sac camp. + +This was good advice and I adopted it. I drew maps on bark, gave the +messengers my watchword, and instructed them what to say. The +rendezvous I had selected was easy to find. Some few miles south of +the Seneca camp a small river debouched into La Baye des Puants. We +would meet there. Cadillac and the Pottawatamies would come together +from the north; the Malhominis, the Winnebagoes, and the Chippewas +would come separately, and I would lead the Sacs under my command. All +was agreed upon, and I saw the messengers dispatched. Then I took a +canoe and eight men, and started on my own journey. It was then past +midnight. + +The eight men worked well. By sunrise I was fighting the dogs and the +stench in the Sacs village, and by eleven the same morning I was on my +way again with eighty braves following. The Sacs were such clumsy +people in canoes that I did not dare trust them on the water, so we +arranged to make a detour to the west and reach the rendezvous by land. + +It was a terrible journey. We had to make on foot nearly double the +distance that the other tribes would make by canoe, so we gave +ourselves no rest. The trail led by morass and fallen timber, and it +was the season of stinging gnats and breathless days. The Sacs were +always filthy in camp or journeying, and I turned coward at the food I +was obliged to eat. But I did not dare leave them and trust them to +come alone. They were a fierce, sullen people, unstable as hyenas, but +they were terrible in war. I had won some power over them, and they +followed me with the eyes of snarling dogs. But they would not have +gone a mile without my hand to beckon. + +So through filth and gnats, heat, toil, and lack of food, I followed +Ambition. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE MEANING OP CONQUEST + +When I stumbled along the bank of the little stream that marked our +rendezvous, I was mud-splashed, torn, and insect-poisoned, and I led a +brutish set of ruffians. Yet I heard a muffled cheer roar out as I +came into view. The Winnebagoes were in camp and in waiting. + +I forgot ache and weariness. The Winnebagoes were fifty in all, picked +men, and I looked them over and exulted. Erect and clean-limbed, they +were as dignified and wonderful as a row of fir trees, and physically I +felt a sorry object beside them. Yet they hailed me as leader, and +placing me on a robe of deerskins carried me into camp. They smoked +the pipe of fealty with me, and when I slept that night I knew that my +dream castles of the last two years were at last shaping into something +I could touch and handle. Their glitter was giving way to masonry. + +The morning brought the Malhominis, the noon the Chippewas. I hoped +for the French and the Pottawatamies by night. + +But the night did not bring them, nor the next morning, nor the next +day, nor yet the day following. + +And in the waiting days I lived in four camps of savages, and it was my +duty to cover them with the robe of peace. + +The wolf-eyed Sacs, the stately Winnebagoes, the Chippewas, and +Malhominis,--they sat like gamecocks, quiet, but alert for a ruffle of +one another's plumage. In council they were men; in idleness, +children. When I was with them, they talked of war and spoke like +senators. When I turned my back they gambled, lied, bragged, and +stole. I needed four bodies and uncounted minds. + +And I saw how my union was composed. The tribes would unite and +destroy the Senecas,--that done, it was probable they would find the +game merry, and fall upon one another. + +With every hour of delay they grew harder to control. There was +jealousy between the war chiefs. I stepped on thin ice in my walks +from lodge to lodge. + +But the third day brought Cadillac. We saw the blur of his canoes far +to the north, and when they came within earshot we were ranged to +receive them. + +A man should know pride in his achievement,--else why is striving given +him? I looked over my warriors, rank on rank. Fierce-eyed, muscled +like panthers, they were terrible engines of war. And I controlled +them! I felt the lift of the heart that strengthens a man's will. +That is something rarer than pride; a flitting vision of the unsounded +depths of human power. + +And the canoes that approached made a strange pageant. I could not in +a moment rid myself of a rooted custom; I wished the woman were there +to see. French and Indians sat side by side, so that blankets rubbed +uniforms. They were packed in close bending ranks, their bodies +crouching to the paddles, their eyes upon the shore. There were +ferret-sharp black eyes and peasant-dull blue ones, but all were +glittering. And the faces, bronze or white, took on the same +look,--they were strained, arid of all expression but the fever for +war. A slow tingle crawled over me, and I saw the crowd sway. A +cautious, muffled cry broke from the shore and was answered from the +canoes. It was a hoarse note, for the lust for blood crowds the throat +full. + +I looked to see Cadillac riding a surge of triumph, but when our hands +met I was chilled. He showed no gladness. His purple face had lines, +and he looked hot and jaded. Had his men failed him? No, I reviewed +them. French, Hurons, and Ottawas, they made a goodly showing. +Onanguissé was there, and his Pottawatamies, oiled, feathered, and +paint-decked, were beautiful as catamounts. All was well. Cadillac +was not in his first youth, and had abused himself. His look meant +fatigue. + +"Ottawas, Hurons, Pottawatamies, Malhominis, Chippewas, Sacs, +Winnebagoes." I counted them off to him. "Monsieur de la +Mothe-Cadillac, it is a sight worthy your eyes. New France has not +seen such a gathering since the day when Saint Lusson planted our +standard at the straits and fourteen tribes looked on." + +He nodded heavily, "The Senecas are still in camp?" + +"Yes, monsieur. We can attack to-night." + +But he turned away. "Montlivet, your wife is in the Seneca camp." + +I looked at him coldly, I think, though I remember that I clutched his +shoulder. + +"Monsieur, you mistake. My wife went east." + +He tried to draw me aside, but I resisted him stolidly. I eyed him +searchingly, angrily, but he could not look at me. "Listen," he +begged, and he spoke very slowly and tapped my arm. Yet I was +understanding him perfectly. "Listen, Montlivet, there is no mistake. +When Father Carheil told me that there were Hurons in Starling's escort +I sent Ottawas in pursuit. I have heard from them. Starling's party +went east till they were out of sight of the garrison. Then they +turned west and joined Pemaou. It was by Starling's direction. The +Ottawas would have objected, for I had ordered them to travel east, but +they were overpowered. It is supposed, since they traveled in this +direction, that they went to the Seneca camp. But that may not be +true." + +"It is undoubtedly true," I said. + +Cadillac pushed me out of earshot of the men. "Montlivet, you cannot +understand. Listen to me." + +I tried to shake him away. "There is nothing more that you can say. +Monsieur, unhand me. My wife left with Starling. She is undoubtedly +in the Seneca camp. Pemaou and Starling are in league, and they go to +the Senecas because they hope to make terms on behalf of the English +with the western tribes. I understand." + +Cadillac looked at me fully, and I realized dully that his face grew +white as he examined mine. "Go away. Go at once," he urged. + +"Leave things here to me." + +I nodded and stumbled away. Stretched tarpaulins made my tent, and I +crawled under them, drew down the folds, and was alone. The noise of +the camp muttered around me like a wind. + +And then I lay alone with myself and my beliefs, and fought to know +where my feet were set. There was tempest without my tent, but not +within. In the valleys where I struggled there was great quiet. And +at last I found certainty. + +In an hour I went to find Cadillac. He would not let me speak. + +"Montlivet, we will stop this attack--if we can hold the Indians." + +"It is not possible to hold the Indians. They are blood drunk. We +should have general massacre." + +"Then you must leave. You can go with Onanguissé. He says that if his +adopted daughter is with the Senecas he will not join in the attack." + +"No, I shall not go with him. I shall lead the allied force of +Indians, monsieur." + +Cadillac looked me over. I saw, with my own face cold, that his was +not steady. + +"No victory is worth that," I heard him say, and I listened as if he +spoke of another's sorrow. "It is not necessary, Montlivet." + +"It is absolutely necessary. The war chiefs are jealous. Without a +leader they will fall on one another and we shall have sickening +massacre. You cannot lead them, for you do not speak their language." + +"But even granting that"---- + +I touched his sleeve. "Monsieur, I have been alone. I have thought it +out. There is no escape. I do not know why life should give a man +such a thing to do, but it is here. I have told the Indians that I +represented the king; that I stood for government, protection. I have +called them here in the name of law. It is a new word to them, and I +have forced its meaning into their minds. And so they trust me. They +trust me in the name of this law I talk about. If I desert them now, +they will lapse into savagery of the worst kind. We shall have +anarchy. Blood will flow for years. No Frenchman's life will be safe. +I have the best men of six tribes here, and they will think themselves +deceived and pay us in red coin. I have been alone. I have thought it +out. I cannot do wholesale murder to save one life, even if it is my +wife whose life is to be forfeit. We must go on." + +Cadillac put out his hand and caught my shoulder. I had reeled against +him as I spoke. He removed his hat. + +"I await your plans, Monsieur de Montlivet. My troops are ready." + +When I found Onanguissé he examined me from under drooping lids. +Despite his age, he was wont to hold his head like a deer, but now his +look was on the ground. He handed me a richly feathered bow and a +sheaf of arrows. + +"I cannot use them," he said. "I called her daughter. I gave her a +robe in token. It is only a porcupine who turns against his own. A +chief remembers." + +I pressed the bow back. "Take it, and save her. I do not know how. +You are an old man in knowledge, I am a child. I trust to you to bring +her to me." + +He looked up at that, and shook his head in sorrow when he saw my face. +But he would not take his bow. "One man cannot save her," he said, and +he bowed his head again and went away. + +I did not speak. I saw him summon his warriors and reembark. In the +general tumult his leaving made little stir. The Pottawatamies were +arrogant, called themselves "lords," and exacted tribute of the other +tribes of La Baye. Yet they accomplished this more by diplomacy than +warfare. I knew that Onanguissé's desertion was well in tune with his +reputation and would not be combated. + +I found Pierre, and told him about the woman. "You are to save her. +You are to get her away. It is for you to do. You are to think +nothing else, work for nothing else. You can do it. I depend on you +to do it. You are never to come to me again if you fail." + +But he, too, looked away. "It cannot be done. The Indians will kill +her." He turned his head from me, and his voice was thick and grating. + +I raged at him. "I shall give the Indians orders to spare all women," +I declared. + +He nodded his great head. "I will help the master. I will do all I +can." He humored me as one hushes an ailing child, but I saw the +caution and blankness in his look. As soon as he could he slipped out +of my sight. + +And then I went to work. If I staggered as I made my stumbling, +blinded way from war chief to war chief, there was none to know, for +blood lust had closed eyes and ears. Yet, though my muscles failed, my +brain was clear. + +The kettle-drums snarled and buzzed like lazy hornets. They sounded +spiteful rather than wicked, but I knew what their droning stood for, +and my body grew cold. In the Ottawa camp the drummers sat beside a +post in the centre of a great circle of warriors, and Longuant stood +with them in the ring singing a war chant. His body was painted green +and he was hung with chains of wampum. I halted. He was one of the +sanest, the most admirable, of the war chiefs, and I listened to him. +He kept his eyes fixed on the westering sun, and yelped his recitation +in a sharp, barking voice. I heard of children dashed to death against +trees; of men disemboweled and left to the mercy of dogs and flies. +After the recitation of each exploit, he struck his hatchet against the +post, and the clamor of the drums doubled. + +I found myself sick as well as faint. I beat the air with my clenched +fist, and Cadillac saw me, and begged me to go away alone till I had +myself in hand. But I pushed by him. + +"My mind is clear," I said, and I spoke as coldly as a machine. +"Clearer than yours, for I see this as it is. Let me go. I have +undertaken this and I shall go through." + +We were ready to march an hour before sunset. The fifty Sacs formed +the vanguard, and I was with them. The Winnebagoes followed, then the +French troops. The remaining tribes, and the Indians who carried the +stores, brought up the rear. Our intention was to march as quietly as +possible while daylight lasted, then work our way by dark and starlight +till we were near the Seneca camp. We would then drop on the ground, +and lie in ambush till it grew light enough to attack. We hoped to +surprise the camp. They had fortified themselves, but apparently had +no scouts at work, and from all we could learn they were feasting and +drinking in Babylonish security, celebrating the return of their +messengers from Michillimackinac. With that exploit in mind it was +small wonder that they felt arrogant and unassailable. Now was indeed +our time. + +Our ranks were formed, and I looked them over man by man. Each savage +carried a bag with ten pounds of maize flour, a light covering, a bow +and arrows, or a fusee. The Winnebagoes I had put well in the lead, +for they were protected by great shields of dried buffalo skin. I +tried one of the skin shields and found it like iron. It would turn a +hatchet. + +Cadillac's bugler sounded the call and we started. The late sun was +unclouded and warm, and the smell of paint and breath and unwashed +bodies filled my lungs. The stench was hot and brutish in my nostrils, +and it was the smell of war. + +So long as daylight lasted we moved with some regularity in spite of +the rough ground. Then, knowing we were drawing nearer the Senecas, we +began to slip from tree to tree. The Indians did this like phantoms, +and the French troops imitated. Three hundred men went through the +forest, and sometimes a twig cracked. There was no other sound. We +went for some time. We heard owls hoot around us, and knew they might +be watch cries. Still we went on. We went till I felt the ground rise +steadily under my groping feet. The Seneca stronghold was on an +eminence. I gave the signal to drop where we were and wait for day. + +We melted into the shadows, and lay rigid while the stars looked down. +The savage next me slept. His war club lay by his side and I felt of +it in the dark. It was made of a deer's horn, shaped like a cutlass; +it had a large ball at the end. The ball was heavy and jagged, and +would crush a skull. + +There were hundreds of such clubs. In a few hours they would be in +use. And the woman was in camp. + +My right arm was free from the sling and I dug my hands together. I +could feel the blood running in my palms, and I checked myself. If I +injured my hands how could I save the woman? + +But nothing could save the woman. + +I had given commands to spare all whites and to torture no one. But +Pierre was right. I was a fool to have pretended, even to myself, that +I thought the savages listened. + +A fool can do harm enough, but a cowardly, soft-hearted man is the most +dangerous of knaves. I might have killed Pemaou when I threw the spear +at him; I might have killed him the night before my wedding in the +Pottawatamie camp. I had withheld my hand because it was disagreeable +to me to kill. And now the woman's life was to pay the forfeit of my +lax softness. I rolled in my agony, and bit the ground till my mouth +was full of leaf mould. + +A planet swung from one tree-top to the next. What lay behind it? She +would know soon. But I could not follow her where she was going. I +should live. I knew that. When Death is courted he will not strike. +I had seen that in battle. + +That first morning when she had come to me with the sunrise,--when she +had drifted to me, bound and singing,--I had called to her to have no +fear, that no harm should come to her. And she had trusted me. + +She had a little hollow in her brown throat where I had watched the +breath flutter. I had never touched it. + +I could thank God for her, for one thing. She had refused my kiss. + +I saw the planet again, tipping another tree-top. I understood its +remoteness; in my agony I was part of it. What were men, countries, +empires! I felt the insignificance of life, of suffering. What did it +matter if these Indians died! Why should we not all die? I crawled to +my knees. I would give the signal to retreat. I would give it now. +Let the massacre come. + +But I fell back. I could not. I could not. Three hundred lives for +one life. I could spill my own blood for her, but not theirs. + +But as for empire, I had forgotten its meaning. + +All of these men lying in the shadows had women who were dear. Many of +the wives would kill themselves if their husbands died. I had seen an +Indian wife do it; she had smiled while she was dying. + +Would the woman think of me--at the last? She would not know that I +had failed her. She would not know that I was worse than Starling. + +She was the highest-couraged, the most finely wrought woman that the +world knew. Yet two men had failed her. + +"Monsieur," she had said, "life has not been so pleasant that I should +wish to live." + +It was only a week ago that she--she, alive, untouched, my own--had +walked away from me in the sunshine, leaning on Cadillac's arm. And I +had let her go. And I had let her go. + +And I had let her go. I said that over and over, with my mouth dry, +and I forgot time. I did not know that minutes were passing, but I +looked up, and the stars were dim, and branches and twigs were taking +form. Day would be on us soon. + +I raised myself on my elbow and peered. I could see very little, but I +could hear the strange rhythmic rustle that I call the breathing of the +forest. And with it mingled the breathing of three hundred warriors. +They carried clubs, arrows, muskets. I was to give them the signal for +war. + +I tried to rise. I was up on my knees. I fell back. I tried again. +My muscles did not obey. I saw the war club of the Indian beside me. +My hands stole out to it. A blow on my own head would end matters. My +hands closed on the handle of the club. + +Then the savage next me stirred. That roused me. The insanity was +over, and sweat rained from me at realization of my weakness,--the +weakness that always traps a man unsure of his values, his judgment. +When men say that a man's life is not his own to take, I am not sure. +But that had nothing to do with me now. I was not a man in the sense +of having a man's free volition. When I had given up human claims for +myself, I had ceased to exist as an independent agent. It was only by +knowing that I was a tool that I could keep myself alive. + +And so I sat upon my knees and whispered to the Indians about me. They +whispered in turn, and soon three hundred men were waked and ready. + +Yet the forest scarcely rustled. + +I motioned, and the line started. We crept some twenty paces from tree +to tree. Then ahead of us I saw an opening. I could distinguish the +outlines of a rough redoubt. + +I stepped in front and stopped a moment. It had grown light enough for +me to see the faces of the Sac warriors. Dirt-crusted, red-eyed, +wolfish, they awaited my signal. + +I raised my sword. "Ready!" I called. An inferno of yells arose. We +ran at the top of our speed. We charged the stake-built redoubt with +knives in hands. Mingled with our war cry I heard the screams of the +awakening camp. + +I reached the palings. They were of bass wood, roughly split and +tough. I could not scale them with my lame shoulder. I seized a +hatchet from an Indian, struck the stakes, wrenched one free, and +climbed through the hole. + +The camp was in an uproar. A few Sacs had scaled the redoubt ahead of +me, and one of them was grappling with a Seneca just in my path. I +dodged them and ran on. Behind me I heard the terrible roar of the +blood-hungry army. + +I fought my way on. Warriors and slaves rose before me and screamed at +my knife, and at something that was in my face. I did not touch them. +I had to find the woman. She might be hiding in one of the huts. But +there were many bark huts, and all alike. I ran on. + +The air was thickening with powder smoke, and the taste of blood was in +my throat. A hatchet whistled by me and cut the cloth from my +shoulder. I saw the Seneca who threw the hatchet, but I would not +stop. Corpses were in my way. Twice I slipped in blood and went to my +knees. + +I must search each lodge, each group. I had seen nothing that looked +like a woman. + +An Indian grappled with me, and I slashed at him till he was helpless. +I was covered with blood that was not my own. I let him drop and +stumbled on. + +I could not find the woman. I had not seen Starling nor Pierre nor +Labarthe nor Leclerc. + +And over all the noise of tearing flesh and the screams of dying men +came the sound of singing, of constant, exultant singing,--the singing +of victors binding their captives; the death songs of wounded preparing +to die. + +I saw two bodies lying together as if the same arrow had cleft them. +Their hands sprawled toward me, red and beckoning. They were +mutilated, but I knew their clothes. They were Leclerc and Labarthe. +Leclerc was hanging on Labarthe as he had leaned in life. + +I had brought these men to the wilderness. And Simon was dead, too. I +went on. + +I saw a Seneca, stripped and running blood, crouch to a white man on +the ground and lift his knife to take the scalp. I sprang upon him, +but he dashed my knife away, found his feet, and pressed at me. I +dodged his hatchet, and catching up a skin shield from the ground +turned on him. I was taller than he, and I smashed the shield down on +his head so that he dropped. I pounded him till he was beyond doing +harm to any one, then I took his knife and hatchet, tossed him aside, +and turned to the white man. + +It was Starling, and there was life in him, for he opened his eyes. + +I took my flask and forced brandy between his teeth. He recognized me +but could not speak. A great spear had torn through his chest. I +started to pull it out, but when I looked farther and saw what a +hatchet had done I checked myself. + +His eyes were on mine and he tried to speak. It was more than I could +look at,--his effort to hold life in his torn body and tell me +something. I eased his head and gave him more brandy. + +And then he found strength to try to push me away. "Go! Go! The +woman!" I made the words out of the writhing of his lips. + +I leaned over him. "Where? Where is she? Where?" + +He tried many times before he made a sound that I could catch, and his +strength ebbed. I tried more brandy, but he was past reviving. I +strained to hear, till my agony matched his. I thought I caught a +word. "Woods!" I cried. "Is she in the woods?" + +"Yes." He suddenly spoke clearly. "Go." And he fell back in my arms. + +I thought that he died with that word, but I held him a moment longer +to make sure. It did not matter now that I hated him. As to what he +had brought on me,--I could not visit my despair on him for that. As +well rage at the forces that made him. Life had given him a little +soul in a compelling body. The world believed the body, and expected +of the man what he could not reach. I looked at his dead face and +trembled before the mystery of inheritance. + +But he was not dead. He opened his eyes to mine, quivered, and spoke, +and his voice was clear. + +"I would have followed her into the woods but they bound me. I was not +a coward that time. I would have followed her." + +And then the end came to him in a way that I could not mistake, for +with the last struggle he cried to the woman. + +I laid him down. While I had held him I had known that Frenchmen were +fighting around me, and my neck was slimy with warm blood, for an arrow +had nicked my ear. But the battle had swayed on to the north of the +camp, and only dead and dying were left in sight. I looked at +Starling. I could not carry him. I took off my coat, covered the +body, and went on. + +The woman had gone to the woods. She had gone to the woods. + +But woods lay on every side. + +As I ran through the camp toward the north I saw a woman ahead of me. +She had a broad, fat figure, and I knew she was an Indian. But she was +a woman and the first that I had seen. I caught her and jerked her +around to face me. + +"The woman? The white woman? Where is she?" I used the Illinois +speech. + +The woman was a Miami slave and apparently unhurt. But as I stood over +her a line of foam bubbled out of her blue lips. Her eyes were +meaningless. I had frightened her into catalepsy, and I ground my +teeth at my ill luck, for she could have told me something of the +woman. I took my brandy flask and tried to pry her teeth apart. + +Both of my hands were busy with her when Pierre's bellow rose from +behind me. "Master! Jump! Jump!" In the same instant I heard +breathing close upon me. + +I jumped. As I did it I heard the crash of a hatchet through bone, and +the pounding of a great body heaving down upon its knees. I turned. + +Pemaou's hatchet was in Pierre's brain, and my giant, my man who had +lived with me, was crumpled down on hands and knees, looking at me and +dying. + +I called out like a mad thing, and insanity gave me power. I tore the +red hatchet from Pemaou's hands and pinioned him. My fingers dug into +his throat, and I threw him to the ground. He bared his wolf's teeth +and began his death song. But I raved at him, and choked him to +silence. "You are not to die now!" I shouted at his glazing eyes. +"You shall live. I shall torture you. You shall live to be tortured." + +I carried rope around my waist, and I took it and bound him. How I did +it is not clear, for I had a weak shoulder and he was muscular. But +now he seemed palsied and I a giant. It was done. I bound him till he +was rigid and helpless. + +And then I fell to my knees beside Pierre. He was dead. I had lost +even the parting from him. My giant was dead. He had taken the blow +meant for me. + +Pierre was dead, and Simon and Labarthe and Leclerc. I had brought +them to the wilderness because I believed in a western empire for +France. I left Pierre and went on. + +But I had not gone far when a cry rose behind me. It was louder than +the calls of the dying. It was the wail of an Indian woman for her +dead. I ran back. Singing Arrow lay stretched on Pierre's body. + +I looked at her. I did not ask myself how she came there, though I had +thought her safe in the Malhominis village. So she had loved the man +enough to follow secretly. I left her with him and went on. + +I stepped over men who were mangled and scalped. Some of them were not +dead, and they clutched at me. But I went on my way. + +Indians and troops were gathered at the north of the camp. The warfare +was over. Corpses were stacked like logs, and the savages were binding +their captives and chanting of their victories. The French stood +together, leaning on their muskets. I saw Cadillac unhurt, and went to +him. + +"Is the bugler alive? Have him sound the call." + +The commandant turned at sound of my voice. He was elated and would +have embraced me, but seeing my face his mood altered. He gave the +order. + +The bugle restored quiet, and I raised my sword for attention. I asked +each tribe in turn if they had seen a white woman. Then I asked the +French. I gained only a storm of negatives. + +I went on with the orders to the tribes. All captives were to be +treated kindly and their wounds dressed. This was because they were to +be adopted, and it was prudent to keep them in good condition. The +argument might restrain the savages. I was not sure. + +And all the time that I was speaking I wondered if I looked and talked +as other men did. Would the savages obey me as they had done when I +was a live, breathing force, full of ardor and belief? They seemed to +see no difference. I finished my talk to them and turned to Cadillac. + +"You do not need me now. You will be occupied caring for the wounded +and burying the dead. The Indians will not attempt torture to-day. I +am going to the woods." + +"To the woods?" + +"The woman is in the woods. She must have gone at the first alarm. I +cannot find her here." + +"Ask the captives. They will know." + +"It is useless to ask them. They will not speak now. It is a code. I +am going to the woods. Send what soldiers you can to search with me." + +"Shall I send Indians with you, too?" + +"Not now. They are useless now. They could trail nothing. Let me go." + +He followed like a father. "You will come back?" + +"Yes, I will come back." + +But I had three things to do before I was free to go to the woods. To +go to the woods where I would find the woman. + +I searched for the Miami slave woman. She was dead. That cut my last +hope of news. + +I saw that Pemaou was still well bound, and I had him carried into a +hut to await my orders. + +I went to Pierre's body. Singing Arrow still wailed beside it, and +cried out that it should not be moved. I told her the soldiers would +obey her orders, and carry it where she wished. + +But there was a fourth matter. I spoke to Dubisson, and my tongue was +furry and cold. + +"See that watch is kept on the bags of scalps for European hair." + +Then I went to the woods. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +THE UNDESERVED + +There were birds in the woods, and soft breezes. Squirrels chattered +at me, and I saw flowers. And sometimes I saw blood on trampled moss +where fugitives had been before. + +I called, and fired my arquebus. I whistled, for that sound carried +far. Since that day the sound of a whistle is terrible to me. It +means despair. + +Soldiers, grave-faced, respectful, followed me. + +They were faint for food, and sore and sick from warfare, but they came +with me without protest. They gave me the deference we show a mourner +in a house of death. I turned to them in a rage. + +"Make more noise. Laugh. Talk. Be natural. I command you." + +We divided the woods among us, like game-beaters in a thicket, and went +over the ground foot by foot. We found nothing. The birds sang and +the sun went higher. Though the woods were pure and clean I could +smell blood everywhere. In time a man dropped from exhaustion. At +that I gave the word to go back to camp. + +The camp itself was less terrible than the memories that had been with +me as I walked through the unsullied woods. The wounded were cared for +and the dead buried. The Indians were gathered around their separate +fires, chanting, feeding, bragging, and sleeping. The French had made +a camp at one side, and they, too, were seeking comfort through food +and sleep. Life was progressing as if the mutilated dead had never +been. + +We had succeeded, Cadillac assured me. All the Senecas were dead or +captured and our total loss, French and savage, was only seventy-five +men. We had but few wounded, and the surgeon said they would recover. + +I nodded, took food, and went alone to eat. I sat there a long time. +Cadillac came toward me once as if to speak, but looked at me and +turned away. + +At last I had made up my mind, and I went to the hut where I had left +Pemaou. It had taken time to fight down my longing for even combat +with him, but I knew that I must not risk that, for I needed to keep my +life for a time. So I would try for speech with him first, and then he +should die. And since he must die helpless, he must die as painlessly +as possible. Physical revenge had become abominable to me. It was +inadequate. + +I entered the hut. Pemaou's figure lay, face downward, on the floor. +It had a rigidity that did not come from the thongs that bound it. I +turned it over. The Indian's throat was cut. Life had flowed out of +the red, horrible opening. + +I think that I cursed at the dead man. Corpse that he was, he had +tricked me again, for I had hoped, against reason, to force information +from him. Death had not dignified his wolfish face. He had died, as +he had lived, a snarling animal, whose sagacity was that of the brute. +And I had lost with him this time, as I had lost before, by taking +thought, and so losing time. An animal does not hesitate, and he is a +fool who deliberates in dealing with him. I tasted desolation as I +stood there. + +A moccasin stepped behind me. "I killed him," said Singing Arrow's +voice. + +I turned. She was terrible to look at. Life had given this savage +woman strength of will and soul without training to balance it. She +was Nemesis incarnate. Yet blood-stained and tragic as was her face, +her words were calm. + +"He killed my man." + +What was there to say? It was only her look that showed she had been +through tempests; in mind she seemed as numbed as I. I took her by the +arm and led her outside. I turned away from the blood-soaked camp, and +took her to the beach where the water was yellow-white and rippled on +the sand. I motioned her to wash away the blood stains on her face and +arms. Then I spoke. + +"Singing Arrow, do you intend to kill yourself and follow Pierre?" + +She drew her blanket high and folded her arms. "Yes, if he calls me. +When I dream of him twice I shall know that he is crying for me and +cannot rest, so I shall go after him. I have dreamed once +already,--after I killed the Huron. When I dream once more I can go." + +I touched her arm. "Look at me. Singing Arrow, Pierre is not calling +you to follow him. He is calling you to pick up his work where he had +to drop it. He died trying to save me. He wants you to help me now. +My wife is in the woods. You are to help me find her. Will you help +me, Singing Arrow?" + +She shook her head. As she looked at me, scornful and sorrowful and +absolutely unmoved, she was one of the most beautiful women I had ever +seen. I knew this remotely, as an unblest ghost might know a warmth he +could not feel. + +"You do not need me. If your whisper cannot reach the white woman she +would not hear my shouts. I must go with my man." + +"Singing Arrow, the Great Spirit is not ready for you. When he is +ready he will send. You must wait for him to send." + +She did not shift her look from me. "Your Great Spirit is strange. He +tells you that you are brave men and good when you take other lives, +but he will not let you take your own. Why should you have power over +other men's bodies if your own does not belong to you? Your Great +Spirit may be right for you white men, but for me he speaks like a +child. When my man calls me I shall go." She dropped her eyes, +wrapped her blanket closer, and went away. I did not follow her. She +had as sound a right to her belief as I to mine. + +And what was my belief? + +The sun was at the horizon, and I went to Cadillac. "You hold council +to-morrow?" + +"Yes, to-morrow morning." + +"I shall be here." + +"But where are you going now?" + +"To the woods." + +Cadillac took me by the arm. "Montlivet, be sane!" + +But I think that as he looked at me he saw that I was sane. "I shall +be with you in the morning," I promised. And I would have no further +words. + +All that night in the woods, both waking and dreaming, the thought of +the woman was like a presence near me. I slept some, dropping against +trees, then roused and stumbled on. I do not know that I consciously +searched for her, but I went on and on to meet her. It seemed that I +should always do that while I lived,--should always push my way +forward, feeling that beyond the next turn she stood beckoning. + +The stars rose and set. There were multitudes of them and very bright. +If man could only have his orbit fixed and follow it as they did; be +compelled to follow it by a governing power! The terrible cruelty of a +God who throws volition into a man's hands without giving him +understanding to handle it came to me for the first time. + +When day arrived I ate a portion of meal and meat, and made my way +back. It was a long trip, for I had wandered far, and when I reached +the camp the sun was three hours high. A large tent had been made of +skins and tarpaulins, and French and savages were gathered there and +waiting. I was late. The calumet was already passing as I went in. + +I halted a moment at the entrance. There was no cheer of welcome at +sight of me. Instead there was a hush,--the hush of suspended +breathing. In two days these savages had come to draw aside from me +for what was in my look. "His face is the face of one dead," +Outchipouac had said. I knew that I had grown to seem abnormal, alien. +I tried to form my expression to better lines, but it was out of my +power. I took my place as interpreter, and the long conclave opened. + +The hours of droning speeches went on and on. Each tribe presented its +claims, and metaphor shouldered metaphor. It sounded trivial as the +bragging of blue-jays, but I interpreted carefully and kept the +different headings in mind. Then I asked Cadillac's permission, and +took it on myself to answer. + +Sometimes the Power that rules us, and that shoves us here and there to +play our parts in the game, seems to me nothing but a cold-eyed +justice, remote, indifferent, impartially judicial. So I felt now. In +looking at the issue I saw that meaning and vitality had gone from my +spirit, but I had kept equity. I parceled the spoil among the tribes, +and did it without doubt of my judgment or care for its acceptance. I +remembered Outchipouac's plea for his people, and found it just. The +Malhominis had sent the largest force in proportion to the strength of +their tribe, and their position on the bay was strategical. So I gave +them their choice of a third of the captives. To the remaining tribes +I gave the rest of the captives and the confiscated weapons. Then I +passed the calumet among them. + +I had spoken coldly, as an onlooker. Perhaps my air of detachment gave +me authority. The chiefs smoked the calumet and ratified my words. +That part of the council was over. + +And then to the future. Cadillac rose. His eloquence painted the +prospect till it shimmered like a dream landscape, rose-tinted, +iridescent, with sparkling vistas full of music and bugle calls and the +tramp of marching men with the sun in their faces. We, French and +Indians, were a united people. Our young men were brave and full of +vigor. We should sweep all before us. We should crush the Iroquois +and drive the English far away over seas. We should go now to +Michillimackinac and march from there to conquest and empire. All the +bubble dreams of sovereignty, from Nineveh on, glittered in his words. +I translated faithfully. + +Outchipouac answered. I had somehow won his spirit, which was brave +and vigorous. Perhaps he repented his distrust of me. My silver chain +was on his neck, and he fingered it. He said that where I led the +Malhominis would follow. His wild imagery swept like the torrent of an +epic. The man was warrior, dreamer, fatalist. He called on the chiefs +of the tribes to witness what I was, what I had done. Water could not +drown me, arrows could not harm me. I wore the French garb and my face +was white, but I was something more universal than any race. I spoke +all tongues. I was like the air which belonged to French and Indian +alike. I was a manitou; I had been sent to lead the Indians back to +the supremacy that they had almost lost. + +I could believe him as I listened. I did not remember that he spoke of +me. He was talking of some great principle, some crystallization of +the forces of the woods in man's shape. The woods that had nurtured +the Indian should protect him. At last, out from the woods had come +this spirit,--this spirit that was their voice. He did not talk to me, +he talked to the skies and the clouds and the forces that dwelt in +them. It was the call of a savage king to the soul of the wild earth +that had cradled him. + +So swept away was I that I could not have translated. But it was not +necessary. He had spoken in Algonquin, which all but the French and +Hurons understood. The war chiefs rose. It is strange. An Indian may +scalp and torture, yet have at heart much of the seer and poet. The +chiefs came forward and laid their bows and quivers full of arrows at +my feet. + +For a moment Outchipouac's speech had warmed me as I thought I might +not be warm again. But when I saw the chiefs advancing I became stone. + +"I cannot lead you," I said in Algonquin, and I knew my voice was +blank. "Outchipouac is wrong. I am no manitou, but a man so weak he +does not know the truth even for himself. How can he lead others? +When I brought you here the sun shone brightly, and I thought I saw the +way ahead. Now I am in darkness and mist. Go. Leave me. Find a +leader whose sight is not clouded." I turned my back and stood with my +head down. + +A murmur rose. I had broken the illusion. We had all been riding the +clouds of fancy, and I had dashed us to earth again. The chiefs had +come to me with their hands out, and I had thrown water in their faces. +They had reason for their anger. Cadillac saw the pantomime and +lumbered from his seat. He seized my arm. + +"Montlivet, you are insane! You are insane!" + +I pointed him to the woods. "Monsieur, I have dropped my sword. I +shall go into the forest for a time." + +He shook me as if I were in a torpor. "Your wife"---- + +"I shall search for her. I am going out now with Indian trailers. I +shall not leave this country till all hope is past,--then I shall go +west." + +For a moment suspicion clutched him. "Oh, you would form your union +without me! You are planning a dictatorship." + +I took him by the arm and begged him to understand. "I have dropped my +sword," I reiterated. "I am going on alone. I have skins and +provisions cached at Sturgeon Cove--enough for barter. I am not +insane. I shall go prudently. There are lands and peoples to be +explored in the west." + +The clamor grew. Dubisson and others of the French came nearer. + +"Speak to the chiefs now. Speak to them now," they begged. "You can +save the situation yet." + +I watched the Indians. "They are departing peacefully." + +"But they are departing!" + +I looked at Cadillac. "And why not?" + +He drew his sword. "Montlivet, have you turned priest--or coward? Do +you dare to try and tell me that war is wrong?" + +I looked at him, and left my own sword untouched. "I do not know what +I believe. I am going back in the woods. Perhaps I shall learn. But +now we have done all that we set out to do. We have destroyed the +Seneca war party. We shall be safe from the Iroquois for some time." + +"But we are just ready to go on. Our men are ready." + +His words seemed meaningless. "Ready! Are intoxicated men ready? We +have drunk blood. Now we are drunk with words. I will not"---- + +A roar outside cut my words short. "The woman! The woman!" I heard +the cry in several languages at once, but I could not comprehend it. I +saw the crowd rise and surge toward me, making for the entrance of the +tent. I turned and ran with them. Yet my mind was numb. + +We reached the outside. I was in advance. A great canoe was at the +shore and Onanguissé was directing his oarsmen. In the bow of the +canoe sat the woman. + +I reached her first; I caught her from the canoe. Yes, she was alive; +she was unhurt. Her hands were warm. I heard her breathe. I dropped +on my knees at her feet. + +And then she bent over me and whispered, "Monsieur, monsieur, you are +unhurt!" Her voice had all its old inflections, and I rose and looked +at her in wonder. Yes, she was alive. She was grave-eyed and haggard, +but she was alive. The hands that I held were warm and trembling, +though my own were cold and leaden as my palsied tongue. She was +dressed in skins, and I could see the brown hollow in her throat. I +could not speak. I laid my lips upon her hand and trembled. + +French and savages pressed around us in a gaping, silent ring. +Cadillac had given us the moment together, but he edged nearer, +bewildered by my silence. + +"Madame, we welcome you," he cried. "Your husband has not been like +himself since he heard of your danger. Give him time to recover. We +have been a camp of mourning for you. Tell us of your escape." + +And then I spoke. I drew her hand through my arm and turned her to +face the crowd. "They are your friends, madame," I said, as if it were +the conclusion of a long talk between us. "Thank them, and tell them +of your escape." + +But she halted and turned again to me. She looked up with her face +close to mine, and for the first time she met my eyes fully. We stood +so a moment, and as she stood she flushed under what was in my look; a +wave of deepening pink crept slowly up through her brown pallor, but +she did not look away. I felt my face harden to iron. It was I who +turned from her, and the faces before me swam in red. Up to that time +I had grasped only the fact that she was alive, that she stood there, +warm, beautiful, unscathed, that I could see her, touch her, hear the +strange rise and fall of her voice. But with the clinging of her +glance to mine I remembered more, and sweat poured out on my forehead. +She was my wife. I had forfeited the right to touch her hand. + +The French began to murmur questions and she turned back toward them. +She stood close by my side with her hand in mine, and looked into the +faces, French and savage, that hemmed her round. I think she saw tears +in some eyes, for her voice suddenly faltered. She made a gesture of +courtesy and greeting. + +"I escaped days ago when we were traveling," she said in her +slow-moving French, that all around might hear. "I made my way to the +Pottawatamie Islands. Onanguissé had called me daughter, and I knew +that if I could find his people I was safe." + +The crowd breathed together in one exclamation. "You have not been in +this camp at all?" + +I felt her draw closer to me. "No, I have not been in this camp. You +thought that I was here?" Her grasp on my hand tightened. "Then this +is the Seneca camp. The battle is over," she said under her breath, +and she turned to me. Her eyes were brave, but I knew from her +trembling lips that she understood. "Where is my cousin?" + +I took both her hands in mine. "He died in my arms. He died trying to +send me to you. He forgot self. It was the death of a brave man, +madame." + +She stood and looked at me. She had forgotten the men around her. +"Monsieur," she said, and this time her eyes were soft with tears, "my +cousin was not so bad as he seemed. He could not help being what he +was." + +"I understand." + +"Monsieur, you conquered the Senecas?" + +"Yes. We will forget it, madame." + +She looked over the heads of the lines of soldiers and grew white to +the lips. I knew that she saw rows of scalps, and I could not save her +from it. Yet I implored. + +"Do not think of it. It is all over, madame." + +Her eyes came back to me. "And Pierre? Is Pierre safe?" + +"Madame, he---- He died saving me." + +Her hands grasped me harder. "And Labarthe?" + +"I am all that is left, madame." + +Still she held to me. "Where is Singing Arrow?" + +I looked at Cadillac. He shook his head. "They found the Indian woman +this morning," he said. "She was dead beside her husband. Do not +grieve for her. Her face is more than happy; it is triumphant. My men +called me to look. Will you see her now, madame?" + +But she could not answer. The hands that held mine began to chill, and +I saw the brown throat quiver. I turned to Cadillac. "I have no tent. +May I take madame to yours?" + +He placed all that he had at her service. He was moved, for he did it +with scant phrase. + +"But one moment," he begged. "Montlivet, one word with your wife +first. Madame, I beg you to listen. Will you look around you here?" + +She stopped. "I have looked, monsieur." + +"Madame, you see those Indians. They are war chiefs and picked braves. +The brawn and brain of six tribes are collected here before you. Do +you know what that means?" + +I saw her look at him gravely. "I should understand. I have lived in +Indian camps, monsieur." + +He looked back at her with sudden admiration that crowded the +calculation out of his eyes. "Madame!" he exclaimed. "We know your +spirit and knowledge; we wish that you could teach us some new way to +show you homage. But do you understand your husband's power? You have +never seen him in the field. Look at these war chiefs. They are +arrogant and untamed, but they follow your husband like parish-school +children. It is marvelous, madame." + +She lifted her long deer's throat, and I felt her thrill. "Monsieur, I +think that not even you can know half what I do of my husband's +strength and power." + +Her words were knives. I would have drawn her away, but Cadillac was +before me. "Wait, Montlivet, wait! This is my time. I have more to +say. Then, madame, to the point. These chiefs that you see are +leaving. They would have been gone now if you had not come. They are +leaving us because your husband said he would not lead them further. +Talk to him. I can hold the tribes here a few hours longer. If he +comes back to sanity by night, there will still be time for him to undo +his folly. Talk to him, madame." + +Again I tried to interrupt, but the pressure of her hand begged me to +be silent. "What would you have me say to my husband?" she asked +Cadillac, and she stood close to me with her head high. + +He drove his fists together. "I would have you bring him to reason," +he groaned. "For three days he has lived in a trance. He planned the +attack, and led it without a quiver, but since then he has tried to +wash his hands of us and of the whole affair. It is a crucial time, +and he is acting like a madman. His anxiety about you has unbalanced +him. Bring him to reason, madame." + +I saw her steal a glance at me as a girl might at her lover, and there +was a strange, fierce pride in her look. She bowed to Cadillac. "I am +glad you told me this, monsieur." Then she turned to me. "Shall we +go?" + +But I looked over her head at the commandant. "It will be useless to +keep the tribes in waiting," I warned. + +I went to Onanguissé, the woman on my arm. "My heart is at your feet," +I said to him. "My blood belongs to you, and my sword!'" + +He looked at the woman and at me, and he spoke thoughtfully. "When I +found her in my lodge we had no speech in common, but I understood. I +brought her to you. Now keep what you have. The best fisherman may +let a fish slip once from his net by accident, but his wits are fat if +he lets it go a second time." + +I knew he was troubled. He saw no possession in my face, and he +thought me weak. + +And then I took the woman to Cadillac's tent. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +I TELL THE WOMAN + +Cadillac's tent held a couch of brush covered with skins, and I led the +woman to it and bade her sit. Then I moved away and stood by the rough +table. + +"Madame," I said, "I have something that I must tell you. I"---- + +She rose from the couch and came toward me. "Will you wait?" she +interrupted. "May I speak first?" She stood beside me, and I saw how +thin her hand was as it rested on the table. She had been through +danger, starvation. I found myself shaking. + +"You went alone through the woods!" I cried, and my voice was hoarse, +so that I had to stop and control it. "Did you suffer? You must have +suffered, madame?" + +She smiled up at me. "Monsieur, do not grieve. It is all over. And +the greatest suffering was in my mind. I feared that you would think I +disobeyed you." + +I clenched my hands. "Madame, you must not say such things to me." + +But she touched her fingers to mine. "Monsieur, I beg you. Hear me +out before you speak. As to my coming here, I promised you that I +would not turn westward,--but I could not help it." + +"I know, madame." + +"My cousin--he was--he was a spy, after all. He deceived us both. He +was carrying peace belts. But--but I am sure that he had moments of +saying to himself that he would refuse to act the spy. When he lied to +me, and told me that he had no purpose but my safety, I think that he +thought he spoke the truth." + +"I know, madame." + +"But when--when I saw what he had done, when I saw that we were going +west, I warned him that I would leave him. I told him, too, that he +was going to his death. He did not believe me. No watch was kept on +me. He had a small canoe; I took it one night. I had provision--a +little---- I--I--I am here, monsieur." + +I stood with my eyes down. "Your cousin wished to follow you. The +Indians restrained him. It was as I told you. He was not a coward at +the last, madame."' + +I heard her quick breath. "My cousin,--he was very weak. But he would +have liked not to be. I think that he would have liked to be such a +man as you, monsieur." + +If I had been a live man I should have cried out at the irony of having +to hear her say that to me. But I could not feel even shame. + +"Hush, hush!" I said slowly. "It is my turn now. Madame, I knew that +you were in the Seneca camp." + +"But I was not." + +"It is the same as if you were. We had news from Indian runners that +Starling had turned west and joined Pemaou. I knew that he would take +you to the Senecas." I stopped and forced myself to look at her. But +I found no horror in her face. There was still that strange glow of +pride that had not faded since she talked to Cadillac. I saw that she +did not understand. My voice was thick, but I tried to speak again. +She interrupted. + +"This is not a surprise to me. This wilderness that seems so lonely is +full of eyes and ears. I feared that you would hear that we had turned +west." + +Her face was unsteady with tenderness. I had never seen her look like +that. I warded her away though she was several feet distant. "You do +not understand," I said. "I knew that you were in the camp, yet I gave +the signal to attack it. I gave the signal to attack it with Indians, +and you were inside." + +"But I was not inside, monsieur." + +"I believed you to be, and I gave the signal." + +"But, monsieur, I"---- + +"Madame, I believed you to be in the camp, and I gave the signal to +attack it." + +She was silent at that, and I knew that at last she understood. We +stood side by side. I looked at the litter in Cadillac's tent, and +counted it piece by piece. There were clothes, papers, a handmill for +grinding maize. I felt her touch my hand. + +"Will you sit beside me on the couch?" + +I followed her. She sat facing me, just out of reach of my hand. The +light in the tent was blue and dim, but I could see the breath flutter +in her throat. I looked at her. I should never be alone with her +again. I should never again look at her in this way. I tried to hold +the moment, and not blur it. I looked at the lips that I had never +kissed. I watched the rise and fall of the bosom where my head had +never lain. She was speaking, but I could hardly understand. + +"I was three days in the woods before I found the Pottawatamies," she +said. "I was alone all night with the stars and the trees. I thought +of everything. I thought of this, monsieur. I was sure you would +do--what you did." + +I stared at her stupidly. + +She reached out and touched my hand. "Monsieur, listen. I have lived +beside you. I know you to be a man of fixed purpose and fanatic honor. +When such a man as you lays out a path for himself, he will follow it +even if he has to trample on what is in his way,--even if he has to +trample on his heart, monsieur." + +I could not follow her argument. "You should not touch my hand." I +drew it away. "You do not understand, after all. Madame, I gave the +signal knowing it meant your murder." I rose, and stood like stone. +My arms hung like weights by my side, but I would not look away from +her. + +She rose, too. I saw a strange, wild brightness flame into her eyes. + +"Monsieur," she whispered. "I understand so much more than you +realize. Listen. You will listen? Monsieur, until now you have +always laughed. You have been gay,--gay at all times. Yet, through it +all I have seen--I have always seen--your terrible power of +self-crucifixion. Oh, I have seen it; I have feared it; I have loved +it! I have tried to get away from it. But always I have been +conscious of it. It is you. It has ruled all your dealings with me. +Else why did you take me with you? Why did you marry me? So in this +matter. You knew that the safety of the west, and of the Indians who +trusted you, lay in attacking this camp. I knew that you would attack +it. Monsieur, monsieur, now will you touch my hand?" + +I stepped back. "You cannot want to touch my hand. Madame, you do not +know what you are saying." + +But she did not move. "Monsieur, will you never believe that I +understand?" + +I could not answer. I turned from her. The air was black. I seized +her fur cloak which lay on the couch and pressed it in my hands. I +knew that my breath rattled in groans like a dying man's. If I had +tried to speak I should have snatched her to me. I held fast to the +table. I had no thought of what she was thinking. I knew only that I +must stand there silent if I was to get away from her in safety. If I +touched her, if I looked at her, I should lose control, and take what +she would give in pity. I fought to save her as well as myself from my +madness. + +At last she spoke, and her voice was tired and quiet. "You wish me to +go, monsieur?" + +That brought me to my manhood. I went to her and looked down at her +brown head; the brave brown head that she had carried so high through +all the terror and unkindness that had come to her. I touched her hair +with my lips, and I grew as quiet as she. + +"Mary," I said, "it is I who must go away at once before I make trouble +for both of us. You are trying to forgive me, but you cannot do it. +You may think you have done it, but the time would come when you would +look at me in horror, as you looked at Starling. I could stand death +better. I know that you cannot forgive me. I knew it at the moment +when I gave the signal to attack the camp. You can never forgive me." + +She lifted her eyes to mine. "I have not forgiven you, monsieur. +There is nothing to forgive." + +I let myself look at her, and all my calmness left me. I shut my teeth +and tried to hold myself in bounds. + +"Mary!" I groaned, "be careful! Be careful! It is not your pity I +want. If you forgive me for pity"---- + +I could not finish, for she gave a little sob. She turned to me. "It +is you who marry for pity," she cried, with her eyes brimming. "I +could not. I would not. And I have nothing to forgive; nothing, +nothing. I would not have had you do anything else. I was proud of +you. Oh, so proud, so proud! If you had done anything else I could +never have---- Monsieur, do you love me--a little?" + +I took her in my arms. I held her close to me and looked into her +eyes. I looked deep into them and into the soul of her. I saw +understanding of me, acceptance of me as I was. I saw belief, heart +hunger, love. + +And then I laid my lips on hers. She was my wife. She was the woman +God had made for me, the woman who had trusted me through more than +death, and who had come to me through blood and agony and tears. She +was my own, and I had her there alive. I took her to myself. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +TO US AND TO OUR CHILDREN + +Hours passed and the flap of Cadillac's tent was not lifted. Outside +in the camp the drum beat for sunset. The woman heard it. She pushed +back her soft waves of hair, and a shadow fell across the light that +had been in her eyes. + +"I had forgotten," she cried, with a soft tremble of wonder in her +voice. "We have both forgotten. We promised the commandant that we +would talk about your duty to the tribes." + +I kissed her for her forgetfulness. "Talk is unnecessary," I +whispered. "I have made up my mind." + +But the drum's note had recalled her to what lay outside the tent +walls. She sighed a little and bent to me as I sat at her feet. + +"Do not make up your mind yet," she begged with a curious, tender +reluctance. "Let me tell you something first." + +I pressed her hand between my own. "I cannot listen. I can only feel. +Tell me, when did you love me first?" + +She raised her hand to hide a tide of color. "Monsieur, it is my +shame," she cried, with a little half sob of exultance. "It is my +shame, but I will tell you. The night--the night that we were married, +I lay awake for hours beset by jealousy of the woman of the miniature. +Oh, I am indeed shamed! But how could I help it? Your walk, your +laugh, your way of carrying your head! How could I keep from loving +you? But I fought it. I fought it. I knew we had to part. I went to +sleep every night with that thought uppermost." + +I took the hand I held, and quieted its trembling against my lips. +"You are my wife," I said. "We shall never part. We shall live +together till we are very old." The marvel of my own words awed me. + +But she begged me to hear her out. "I must speak of the past," she +went on. "It leads to what I would have you say to the commandant. +Will you listen?" + +"I will try." + +"Then--then let me speak of the day we parted. I saw that I had to +leave you. I knew--I thought I knew--that country was more sacred than +individual happiness. But I was weaker than I thought. When I saw +Michillimackinac fade, when I knew that I should never see you again, +my life seemed to stop. I begged my cousin to take me back. I--I +begged till I fainted." + +I could not keep my hands from clenching. "And he refused you?" I +asked with my lips dry, and I knew that my voice showed hate of a man +who was dead. + +She did not answer my question, and when she did not defend him I knew +that he had been hard to her. "I must have remained unconscious a long +time," she hurried on, "for when I came to myself again the country was +different and the sun was low. I was exhausted, and I could not think +as I had done. You had said that patriotism was a man-made feeling, +and I repeated your words over and over. It was all I could seem to +remember. I could not see why our parting had been necessary. I +wonder if you can understand. It was as if I had been reborn into a +new set of beliefs. All that had seemed inevitable and great had grown +trivial. I could not see distinctions as I had. God made us--English, +French, Indians. I could not understand what patriotism stood for, +after all. I did not know what had come upon my mind, but I saw that +words that I had thought worth sacrificing life for had lost their +meaning. And so--and so---- You see what I would say. I have +changed. If you wish to lead the tribes you are not to think of me." + +I rose and drew her to me. "But, Mary, I no longer wish to lead the +tribes." + +She could not understand me, as indeed I could not wholly understand +myself. She looked at me gravely and long, and she tried to find the +truth in me,--the truth that was out of sight; the truth about myself +that even I did not know. + +"Was the commandant right?" she queried. "Is it anxiety about me that +has changed your plans?" + +I could only shake my head at her. "I am not sure." Then I sat beside +her and tried to explain. "Simon is dead, Pierre died saving me. +Leclerc and Labarthe died under torture. I sacrificed them to enforce +a belief. And now the belief is a phantom. It is very strange. Mary, +we have traveled by different roads, but we have reached the same goal. +My ambition for conquest is put away." + +She drew a long breath, and I saw splendid understanding of me in the +look she gave. Yet she was unconvinced. + +"Perhaps this feeling may pass," she argued. "It may be temporary. +Then you will regret your lost hold with the tribes." + +I smiled at her. "I love you," I murmured. "I love you. I love you. +I am tired of talk of blood and war. Mary, you accepted me as I was, +accept me, if you can, as I am now. I cannot analyze myself. I cannot +promise what I will believe as time goes on. But this I know. I was +born with a sword in my hand, but now I cannot use it--for aggression. +I do not mean that I think it is wrong. I do not know what I believe. +Time will tell." + +The strange light that made her seem all spirit flamed in the glance +that thanked me. + +"Yet think well," she cautioned. "I--I am proud of you." Her voice +sank to a whisper. "Sometimes even my love seems swallowed in my pride +in you. I live on my pride in your power. Think of your unfinished +work. No, no, you must go on." + +I took her by the shoulders. "You strange, double woman!" I cried, +with my voice unsteady. "You command me to do something, the while you +are trembling from head to foot for fear I will obey. Will you always +play the martyr to your spirit? Mary, I shall not lead the tribes." + +"But your unfinished work!" + +"What was worth doing has been done. This crisis is past. The west +will be safe from the Iroquois for some time. There is other work for +me. We will go to France. I have business there. Then I would show +the world my wife." + +Yet she held me away a moment longer. "You can do this without regret?" + +I folded her to me. "It is the only path I see before me," I answered +her. + +And then, for the first time, she sobbed as she lay in my arms. + +A little later we stood together in the tent door. The sunset was lost +in the woods behind and the shadows were long and cool. The camp was +gay. All memory of death and conquest was put aside, and the men were +living in the moment. French and Indians were feasting, and there were +song and talk and the movement of lithe bodies, gayly clad. The water +babbled strange songs upon the shore, and the forest was full of quiet +and mystery. The wilderness, the calm, unfathomed wilderness, had +forgotten sorrow and carnage. We forgot, too. + +I suddenly laughed as of old, and the sound did not jar. The woman on +my arm laughed with me. A thrush was singing. Life was before me, and +the woman of my love loved me. My blood tingled and I breathed deep. +The wood smoke--the smoke of the pathfinder's fire--pricked keen in my +nostrils. + +I pointed the woman to the forest. "We shall come back to it," I +cried. "We leave it now, but we shall come back to it, some time, +somehow. Perhaps we shall be settlers, explorers. I do not know. But +we shall come back. This land belongs to us; to us and to our children +and our children's children. French or English, what will it matter +then? It will be a new race." + +The woman turned. I heard her quick breath and saw the red flood her +from chin to brow. "A new race!" she repeated, and her eyes grew dark +with the splendor of the thought. She clasped her hands, and looked to +the west over the unmapped forest, and I knew that for the moment her +blood was pulsing, not for me, but for that unborn race which was to +hold this land. I had married a woman, yes, but also I had married a +poet and a dreamer and a will incarnate. It was such spirit as hers +that would shape the destinies of nations yet to come. + +I laughed again, and the joy of life ran through me like delirium. + +"Come!" I cried to her. "Come, we will tell Cadillac that to-morrow we +start for Montreal. The sooner we leave, the sooner we return,--return +to smell the wood smoke, and try the wilderness together. Come, Mary, +come." + +And wrapping my wife in the cloak that the savage king had given her, I +led her out and stood beside her while I sent the tribes upon their way. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONTLIVET*** + + +******* This file should be named 16733-8.txt or 16733-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/7/3/16733 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/16733-8.zip b/16733-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2926888 --- /dev/null +++ b/16733-8.zip diff --git a/16733.txt b/16733.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..231a867 --- /dev/null +++ b/16733.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11462 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Montlivet, by Alice Prescott Smith + + +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: Montlivet + + +Author: Alice Prescott Smith + + + +Release Date: September 23, 2005 [eBook #16733] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONTLIVET*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +MONTLIVET + +by + +ALICE PRESCOTT SMITH + +New York +Grosset & Dunlap +Publishers +Houghton, Mifflin and Co. + +1907 + + + + + + + +TO + +M. C. H. AND A. E. H. + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. THE KEY + II. THE CAPTIVE + III. BEHIND THE COMMANDANT'S DOOR + IV. IN THE OTTAWA CAMP + V. A DECISION + VI. DAME OPPORTUNITY + VII. THE BEGINNING + VIII. PARTNERS + IX. WESTWARD + X. I WAKE A SLEEPER + XI. MARY STARLING + XII. A COMPACT + XIII. WE REACH THE ISLANDS + XIV. A PROVISIONAL BARGAIN + XV. I TAKE A NEW PASSENGER + XVI. THE STORM + XVII. AFTER THE STORM + XVIII. IN WHICH I USE OPPORTUNITY + XIX. IN THE MIST + XX. WHAT I FOUND + XXI. THE PIVOT + XXII. THE PRICE OF SLEEP + XXIII. I ENCOUNTER MIXED MOTIVES + XXIV. I MEET VARIOUS WELCOMES + XXV. OVER CADILLAC'S TABLE + XXVI. FROM HOUR TO HOUR + XXVII. IN COUNCIL + XXVIII. CHILDREN OF OPPORTUNITY + XXIX. I FOLLOW MY PATH + XXX. THE MEANING OF CONQUEST + XXXI. THE UNDESERVED + XXXII. I TELL THE WOMAN + XXXIII. TO US AND TO OUR CHILDREN + + + + +MONTLIVET + +CHAPTER I + +THE KEY + +The May sun was shining on Michillimackinac, and I, Armand de +Montlivet, was walking the strip of beach in front of the French +garrison. + +I did not belong to Michillimackinac. I had come in only the day +before with two canoes and four men, and I was bound for the beaver +lands further west. A halt was necessary, for the trip had been +severe, and remembering that it was necessity, and not idleness, that +held me, I was enjoying the respite. My heart was light, and since the +heart is mistress of the heels, I walked somewhat trippingly. I was on +good terms with myself at the moment. My venture was going well, and I +was glad to be alone, and breathe deep of the sweet spring air, and let +my soul grow big with the consciousness of what it would like to do. +So content was I, that I was annoyed to see La Mothe-Cadillac approach. + +Yet Cadillac was important to me then. He was commandant at +Michillimackinac,--the year was 1695,--and so was in control of the +strategic point of western New France. The significance of all that he +stood for, and all that he might accomplish, filled my thought as he +swaggered toward me now, and I said to myself, somewhat complacently, +that, with all his air of importance, I had a fuller conception than he +of what lay in his palm. + +He hailed me without preface. "Where do you find food for your +laughter in this forsaken country, Montlivet? I have watched you +swagger up and down with a smile on your face for the last hour. What +is the jest?" + +In truth, there was no jest in me by the time he finished. My own +thought had just called him a swaggerer, and now he clapped the same +phrase back at me. + +"There are more swaggerers upon this beach than I," I cried hotly, and +I felt my blood rise. + +My tone was more insulting than my words, and Cadillac, too, grew red. +I saw the veins upon his neck begin to swell, and all my childish +irritation vanished. + +"Come, monsieur," I hastened; "I was wrong. But I meant no harm, and +surely here is a jest fit for your laughter, that two grown men should +stand and swell at each other like turkeycocks, all because they are +drunk with the air of a May day. Come, here is my hand." + +"But you said that I"-- + +"And what if I did?" I interrupted. I had fallen into step, and was +pacing by his side. "What is there in the term that we should hold it +in slight esteem? I swagger. What does that mean, after all, but my +acknowledgment of the presence of Dame Opportunity, and my admission +that I would like to impress her; to draw her eye in my direction. +Surely that is laudable, monsieur." + +Cadillac laughed. His tempers were the ruffle of a passing breeze upon +deep water. "So you think that I swagger to meet opportunity? Well, +if I do, I get but little out of it. Sometimes I push myself near +enough to pluck at the sleeve of the dame; oftener she passes me by." + +"Yet she gave you this key to an empire," I suggested. I had been +rude, and I repented it, and more than that, there was something in the +man that tempted me to offer him flattery even as I desire to give +sweets to an engaging child. + +But this cajolery he swept away with a fling of his heavy arm. "The +key to an empire!" he echoed contemptuously. "They are fine words, and +the mischief is that they are true. Yet food in my stomach, and money +in my pocket, would mean more to me just now. I must speak to this +Indian. Will you wait for me, monsieur? I have business with you." + +I bowed, and resumed my walk. "The key to an empire!" I said my own +words over, and could have blushed for their tone of bombast. They +were true, but they sounded false, I looked at my surroundings, and +marveled that a situation that was of real dignity could wear so mean a +garb. The sandy cove where I stood was on the mainland, and sheltered +four settlements. Behind lay the forest; in front stretched Lake +Huron, a waterway that was our only link with the men and nations we +had left behind. The settlements were contiguous in body, but even my +twenty-four hours' acquaintance had shown me that they were leagues +apart in mind. There were a French fort, a Jesuit convent, a village +of Ottawas, and, barred by the aristocracy of a palisade, a village of +Hurons. The scale of precedence was plain to read. The huts of the +savages were wattled, interlaced of poles and bark; the French +buildings were of wood, but roofed with rough cedar; the only houses +with board roofs were those of the Jesuits. In later times when I +found Father Carheil hard to understand, I used to say to myself that +he was not to be held too strictly to account for his contradictions, +for though one learns to think great thoughts in the wilderness, it is +not done easily when there is sawed lumber to shut away the sky. + +Cadillac came back to me in a few moments. He had lost his swelling +port, and was frowning with thought. "I saw you in the Huron camp, +Montlivet," he said. "Do you understand their speech?" + +Now this was a question that I thought it as well to put by. "Would +you call it speech?" I demurred. "It sounded more like snarling." + +"Then you do understand it?" + +I kicked at the dogs at my feet. "Frowns are a common language. I +could understand them, at least. The camp is restless. Are they +hungry?" + +Cadillac shrugged his shoulders. "Possibly. But it is not hunger that +sagamite or maize cakes can reach. Would a taste of Iroquois broth put +them in better condition, do you think?" + +I turned away somewhat sickened. "It is a savage remedy," I broke out. +"And a good cook will catch his hare before he talks of putting it in +the pot. Where is your Iroquois hare, Monsieur de la Mothe-Cadillac?" + +The commandant shook his head. "My hare is still at large," he +confessed. "Though just now---- Come, Monsieur de Montlivet, let us +to plain speech. We are talking as slantingly as savages. I have a +Huron messenger at my quarters. Come with me, and interpret." + +"A messenger from your own camp?" + +"Is it my own camp?" he queried soberly. "I do not know. I have +reason to think that many of my Hurons are ripe for English bribes,--or +even for the Iroquois. It is a strange menagerie that I rule over +here, and the Hurons are the foxes,--when they are not trying to be +lions. You say that their camp is restless. I do not speak their +language, but I can tell you more. They are in two factions. Those +who follow old Kondiaronk, the Rat, are fairly loyal, but the faction +under the Baron would sell us to the English for the price of a cask of +rum. Truly our scalps sit lightly on our heads here in this garrison." + +I hesitated. I did not like this situation, and prudence whispered +that I had best cut the conversation here, and make my way as swiftly +as possible to the west. But curiosity urged me to one more question. +I asked it with my lips pursing to a whistle, that I might seem +indifferent. "Is the messenger from the Baron?" + +Cadillac nodded contentedly. "So you have decided to help me," he +said, with a smile that read my indecision perfectly, and I felt, with +a rush of blood to my face, much less sure of myself, and more respect +for him. "I wish that I had inducements to keep you here," he went on, +"for I hear from Montreal that you have wonderful command of Indian +dialects. But I will take what you are willing to give, and be +thankful. As to this messenger,--this is the tale. Some months ago a +small band of Hurons left here for the south. Hunting, or war, or +diplomacy, how shall I say what was their errand? But I mistrust them, +for they are followers of the Baron. They returned this morning, and +are in camp on the island. Their sending a messenger in advance looks +as if they had a prisoner, and so desired to be welcomed in state. If +the prisoner should be an Iroquois"---- + +Now certain tales were fresh in my ears, and so I did not like the +implication of the unfinished sentence, and hastened to cover it. "It +is a favorable sign, monsieur, that the messenger came to you first." + +"How do I know that he came to me first? He came to me--yes. But +because a snake slips out of one hole, can you swear that he has not +been in another? Will you go to him now?" + +There was no door open for escape, and the matter was not important +enough for me to be willing to force one. "If you wish," I agreed. + +Cadillac looked relieved. "Good! You will find the messenger at my +quarters. I shall let you go alone, for I can make nothing of the +man's speech, and he smells somewhat rancid for a close acquaintance. +When you are through, you will find me here." + +I bowed, and made my way to his quarters. I knew as I opened his door +that I might be entering more than appeared upon the surface, but the +excitement of the game was worth the hazard,--even the hazard of a +possible delay,--and I pushed the door wide, and went in. + +The Huron was sitting in the middle of the floor, handling his calumet +with some ostentation. The Hurons were but the remnant of a race, for +Iroquois butchery had reduced them in numbers and in spirit, but even +in their exile they preserved a splendor of carriage that made the +Ottawas, who camped beside them here, seem but a poor and shuffling +people. This man was a comely specimen, and he was decked to do honor +to the moment. His blanket was clean, and his head freshly shaved +except for a bristling ridge that ran, like a cock's comb, across his +crown, and that dripped sunflower oil over his shoulders. + +He handed me his calumet, and we smoked for the time required by +ceremony, then he rose, and drew two beaver skins from the folds of his +blanket. + +"The sun has smiled upon us," he said, with a certain sedate pomposity +which, like the black crest on his head, might be ludicrous in itself, +but seemed fitting enough in him. "I speak for my people who are in +camp upon the island. We have been upon strange rivers, and over +mountains where the very name of Frenchman is unknown. Yet we have +returned, and we come to you at once, as the partridge to her young. +We are glad to see a Frenchman's face again. We confirm what we have +said by giving these beavers." + +I smoked for a moment, then leaned over and kicked the skins into the +corner. "Why these words?" I asked, with a slow shrug. "Does the leg +thank the arm for its service? Does the mouth give flatteries and +presents to the tongue? We of Michillimackinac are all of one body. +My brother must be drunk with the bad rum of the English traders, that +he should come to me in this way. No, if my brother has anything to +say, let him think it aloud without ceremony, as if speaking to his own +heart. Let him save his beavers till he goes to treat with strangers." + +There was a long silence. The Huron wrapped his blanket closer, and +looked at me, while I stared back as unwinkingly. His face was a mask, +but I thought--as I have thought before and since when at the council +fire--that there was amusement in the very blankness of his gaze, and +that my effort to outdo him at his own mummery somewhat taxed his +gravity. When he spoke at last he told his story concisely. + +A half hour later, I went in search of Cadillac. He heard my step on +the crunching gravel, and when I was still rods away, he laid his +finger on his lips for silence. I went to him rather resentfully, for +I had had no mind to shout my news in the street of the settlement, and +I thought that he was acting like a child. But he took no notice of my +pique, and clapped me on the shoulder as if we were pot-companions. + +"Hush, man," he whispered fretfully. "Your look is fairly shouting the +news abroad. No need to keep your tongue sealed, when you carry such a +tell-tale face. So they have an Iroquois?" + +I dropped my shoulder away from under his hand. "If that is the news +that you say I shouted, no harm is done,--save to my honor. No, they +have no Iroquois." + +Cadillac stopped. "No Iroquois!" he echoed heavily. + +"No, monsieur. They have an Englishman." + +It was as if I had struck him. He stepped back, and his face grew dull +red. + +"A spy?" + +I shook my head. I could feel my blood pumping hard, but I answered by +rote. "Not by the Huron's story." + +The commandant snapped his fingers. "That for his story! As idle as +wind in the grass!" he snorted. "But what did he say?" + +I grew as laconic as the Huron. "That they left here as a hunting +party," I said categorically. + +"That they soon joined a war party of Algonquins, and went with them to +the English frontier. I could make little of his geography, but I +infer that they went in the direction of Boston,--though not so far. +There the Algonquins fell upon a village, where they scalped and burned +to their fill. He says that the Hurons remained neutral, and this +prisoner, he maintains, is theirs by purchase. They bought him from +the Algonquins for two white dressed deerskins, and they have treated +him well. They have found him a man of spirit and importance, and they +ask that you make a suitable feast in honor of what they have done. +The Huron is waiting for your answer." + +Cadillac had listened nodding, and his reply was ready. "Tell him that +they must bring the prisoner to-morrow early,--soon after daybreak. +Tell him that Monsieur de la Mothe-Cadillac knows his part, and that +the kettles shall be full of dog-meat, and the young men painted and +ready for the dancing." He spoke rapidly, his hand on his sword, and +his great shoulders lifted as if eager to meet their new burden. He +turned to me with a smile that would have conquered enmity in a wolf. +"This is great news, Montlivet. I could almost ask you to drink the +health of the Baron, and all his scurvy, seditious crew. For, look +you, even if the Englishman is a spy, and the Hurons have brought him +here to make a secret treaty, why, he is in our hands, and Boston is a +continent away. He will have opportunity to learn some French before +he goes back to his codfish friends. What say you, monsieur?" + +I laughed rather ruefully. I saw that the game was to be exciting, and +I had never been backward at a sport. Yet I knew that I must turn my +face from it. + +"What do I say?" I repeated. "Nothing, monsieur, but that I am a +trader, not a diplomat, and that to-morrow I must be on my way to the +west. I will take your answer to the Huron. Monsieur, I hope you will +sleep long and sweetly to-night. You will need a clear head to-morrow." + +Cadillac looked at me, and wagged his head. "Good-day to you, trader," +he said, with one of his noiseless laughs. "How well you must sleep +who have no thought beyond your beaver skins,--even though you do carry +brandy and muskets hidden in your cargo. Never mind, never mind. Keep +your secrets. Only see that Father Carheil does not smell your brandy, +or I may be forced to send you back to Montreal." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE CAPTIVE + +I woke the next morning, saying, "I must keep out of this," and I knew +that I had said it in my slumber. It is pitiful that a man should be +so infirm of will that he need cosset his resolution in this fashion, +and I kicked the dogs from the door of my cabin, and went out to meet +the world in a bad humor. + +It was a still world in the great sky and water spaces, but a noisy one +upon the shore. Early as it was--the night dusk was still +lingering--the kettles were simmering, and the Indians decked for a +holiday. The sense of approaching action was powder to my nostrils, +and added to my spleen; so though I went down upon the beach, and +joined Cadillac and his officers, I was but surly company, and soon +turned my back upon them, to stare off at the lake. + +It was a breezeless morning, and the lake was without ripple. It lay +like one of the metal mirrors that we sell the Indians, a lustreless +gray sheet that threw back twisted pictures. I looked off at the east, +and thought of the dull leagues that lay behind me, and the uncounted +ones before, and I realized that the morning air was cold, and that I +hated the dark, secret water that led through this strange land. Yet, +even as I scowled at it, the disk of the sun climbed over the island's +rim, and laid a shining pathway through the gray,--a pathway that ended +at my feet. + +I felt my pulse quicken. After all, it was a fair world, and the air, +though keen, was a cordial. I let my gaze travel up that shining, +glimmering track, and while I looked it was suddenly flecked with +canoes. Long and brown, they swung down toward me like strong-winged +birds upheld by the path of the sunrise. + +I looked back at the Indians. They, too, had seen the canoes, but they +made no sound of welcome. Bedizened and wolf-eyed, they stood in +formal ranks as attentive as children at a pantomime. In a moment the +canoes took clearer shape, and the shine of the paddles could be seen +as the flat of the blades slanted toward the light. The men at the +paddles were indistinguishable, crouching shapes, but their prisoner +was standing. He stood in the foremost canoe, and as his figure was +outlined against the sun I saw that he was rigid as a mummy. I turned +to Cadillac. To see a white man bound! I could feel the thongs eating +into my own flesh. + +"They have bound the Englishman!" I protested. "Let us hope that they +are not daring enough--or crazed enough--to make him sing to grace +their triumph." + +But he laughed at my tone. "What does it matter?" he shrugged. "These +wards of mine--my happy family--must have their fete in their own +fashion, or they will ask that I pay the piper. Well, whatever they +do, the prisoner is in our hands, and it will be long before he escapes +them. Yes, listen,--oh, the play-acting dogs!--they are making him +sing now." + +He had a keen ear, for, even to my forest-trained sense, the sound came +but faintly. The crowd hushed its breathing, and the air was +unwholesomely still. A dog yelped, and an Indian silenced it with a +kick. Each paddle-stroke threw the canoes into sharper relief, and we +could distinguish lank arms, and streaming hair. The prisoner's voice +echoed as clear as if he were in some great playhouse, and were singing +to gain the plaudits of a friendly throng. + +I felt my blood tingling in my fingers' ends. It was a brave song, +bravely sung. I could not understand the English words, but the sound +was rollicking with defiance. It was a glove thrown in our faces; the +challenge of a brave man to a cowardly foe. + +"The plucky beggar!" I said half aloud, and I set my teeth hard. + +But Cadillac was nudging my elbow. "You said that the prisoner was a +man of importance," he accused, with a perplexed frown. "But, listen! +He has the voice of a boy." + +I was greedy to hear, so, with a wave of the hand, I shook Cadillac +away. But, in truth, I was disturbed. The tones were certainly boyish. + +The canoes came within bowshot, and the hush that held the camp +suddenly broke like the release of pent waters. There were yells and +stamping, the smash of tom-toms, and a scattering salvo of musketry. +It was a united roar that shut out from our consciousness the thought +of the calm sky and the silent water. + +The canoes had come as unswervingly as arrows, and the one that held +the prisoner landed at my feet. I looked up, and met his eyes, and I +swept my hat from my head. + +"You are among friends," I called, not knowing that I did so. + +It was a foolish speech, since the prisoner could not understand; but I +suppose that my tone was kind, for it apparently gave him courage. At +least, a flush that might have been the color of returning hope rose in +his cheeks. I was relieved at his appearance, for he was not the +little lad that his song had made me fear. He was slim and beardless, +but there were sorrow and understanding in his look that could not come +with childhood. For the rest, he was dark and gaunt from exposure and +privation. His rough woolen suit, leather-lined, hung loosely on him, +but he wore it with a jauntiness that matched the bravado of his song. + +Cadillac came forward in welcome. He was always an orator that the +Indians themselves envied, and now his rhetoric was as unhampered as +though he thought that the prisoner was following each flowing +syllable. As he unbound the stiffened arms--they were pitifully thin +and small, I thought--he called all mythology to witness his deep +regret that this indignity should have been offered to his brother of +the white race. I followed him and listened, storing away metaphors +even as I carried beads in my cargo. I should need all the eloquence +at my command before the close of the summer, and my own tongue was +always too direct of speech. + +Cadillac felt me at his elbow, and when he saw my listening face he +stopped to give me a slow wink. "Will monsieur turn pupil to learn +swaggering?" he asked, with an upward cock of the eye. "I had thought +him too old for a school." + +I bowed, and hated myself for my lagging wits that would not furnish a +retort. "Never too old to sit at your feet," I assured him, and I went +away knowing that I had been slow, and that the honors were with him, +but knowing, also, that somehow I liked the man, and that I should +drink his health when I opened my next tierce of canary. + +I went to find my men, and it was time that I bestirred myself. +License was in order, and the revel assaulted eyes, ears, and nose, +till a white man was wise if he forsook his dignity, and ran like a fox +to cover. The air was surfeiting with the steam of food. Dog-meat +bubbled in great caldrons, and maize cakes crackled on hot stones. A +bear had been brought in, and was being hacked in pieces to add to the +broth. The women did this, and as I passed them they stopped, with +their hands dripping red, and shook their wampum necklaces at me, and +pointed meaningly toward a neighboring hut, where I had been told that +rum could be bought if you were discreet in choosing your occasion. I +tossed them a handful of small coins, and warned them in Huron that if +they molested my men I should report them to the commandant. I felt +yet more haste to see my canoes under way. + +I was plunging on in this fashion when Father Carheil plucked at my +sleeve. "Do you think you are running from the Iroquois?" he grumbled, +and he pushed his irritable, brilliant face close to mine. It was an +old face, lined and withered, and the hair above it was scanty and +gray, but never have I met a look that showed more fire and +unconquerable will. "The commandant wishes you," he went on. "He +asked me to fetch you. I should not have complied--it is I who should +ask services of him--but I wished to speak to you on my own account. +Monsieur, do you know these men that you have in your employ?" + +I nodded. "As well as I know my own heart. They are my habitants." + +"Your habitants! Then you have a seigniory? Why do you not stay there +as the king wishes?" + +I shook my head at him. "We use large words in this new land, father. +Yes, I have a seigniory. That is, I own some barren acres near +Montreal that I can occupy only at risk of my scalp. As to the king, I +think he wishes me to trade,--at least I carry his license to that +effect. But what are my men doing?" + +The Jesuit's thin old hands clutched each other. "They are turning +this place into a Sodom," he said passionately. "They are drinking and +carousing with the Indian women. You traders are our ruin. But we +will shut you out of the country yet. Mark my words. Those +twenty-five licenses will be revoked before the season ends, and you +will have to find other excuses to bring your rabble here to debauch +our missions." + +In view of what I had just seen, I felt impatient. "You do my handful +of stolid peasants too much honor," I said dryly. "They would need +more wit and ingenuity than I have ever seen in them to be able to +teach outlawry to anything that they find here. But I am looking for +them now. You will pardon me if I hasten." + +But his hand pulled at me. "Is one of your men lipped like a +bull-moose and red as Rufus?" + +"Pierre Boudin to the life," I chuckled. "What deviltry is he at now?" + +The priest's face lost its flame. He looked suddenly the old man worn +out in the service of a savage people. "He is with an Ottawa girl," he +said sadly; "a girl the Indians call Singing Arrow for her wit and her +laughter. She is not a convert, but she is a good girl. I wish you +would get your man away." + +I felt shame for my man and myself. "I will go at once," I promised +soberly. "I will be westward bound by afternoon." + +The old priest looked at me with friendly eyes. "There will be trouble +before sundown," he said gravely. "If you wish to get away, go +quickly, or you may not go at all. Now you must report to the +commandant." + +But I had turned my face the other way. "Not till I have found +Pierre," I returned. + +I had no summer stroll before me. Pierre, Anak that he was, was as +lost as a leaf in a whirlpool, and though I had quick eyes, and +shoulders that could force a passage for me in a crowd, I could see no +sign of his oriole crest of red head in all the bobbing multitude of +blackbirds. Instead I stumbled upon Cadillac. + +He linked his arm in mine. "Do you know," he said abruptly, "the +prisoner has spirit and to spare. He may be a man of importance after +all." + +I answered like a fool. "I think not. He is dressed like a yeoman." + +Cadillac put me at arm's length, and puffed his cheeks with silent +laughter. "Plumage, eh? Are you willing to be judged by your own?" He +stopped to let his glance rest on my shabby gear. "Truly it must be a +long year since you fronted a mirror, or you would not be so +complacent. No, monsieur, the prisoner is a gentleman. No yeoman ever +carried his head with such a poise. But who is he? I would give all +the pistoles in my pocket--though, in faith, they're few enough--if I +could understand English. But you may be able to help me. Go speak to +the prisoner in Huron. He must have picked up something of the Indian +speech in his trip here." + +This was my opportunity. "Monsieur," I said, "I should like an +understanding. Remember how little all this can mean to me,--a +trader,--and do not think me churlish if I try to keep myself free from +this intrigue. I will go to the prisoner now, if you wish; but, that +done, I beg you to hold me excused of any further service in this +matter." + +Cadillac looked me over, and now his glance went, not to my doublet, +but to the man within. "A trader!" he said curtly. "A trader carrying +contraband brandy. A good commandant would send you back where you +belong. No, no, monsieur, wait! I am not threatening you. Though you +know as well as I that the thumb-screws are rather convenient to my +hand should I care to use them. But there should be no necessity for +that. Montlivet, I hardly understand your reluctance in the matter of +this Englishman. We should be one in this affair, whatever our private +concerns. Even Black Gown and I--and the world says we are not +lovers--are working together. Why do you draw back?" + +I could not meet him with less than the truth. "You have stated the +reason, monsieur. My private concerns,--they seem large to me, and I +fear to jeopard them by becoming entangled here. I regret this. You +have shown me great clemency in the matter of the brandy,--though if +you had confiscated it I should still have pushed on,--and for that, +and for your own sake, monsieur, I should be glad to serve you." + +He looked at my outstretched palm, and laid his own upon it. "'T is +fairly spoken," he said slowly, "and I think you mean it." Then he +grew peevish. "A pest on this country!" he cried. "We are all kings +in disguise, and have a monarchy hidden in our hats. And what does it +amount to? No bread, no wine, no thanks; a dog's life and a jackal's +death,--and all to hold some leagues of barren land for his +petticoat-ridden majesty at Versailles. Oh, why not say it? We can +tell the truth here without losing our heads." + +"The king's arm"--I began. + +"Is long," he interrupted. "Yet, in truth, your face is longer. Are +you so eager to be gone? Well, get you to the prisoner, and, my hand +on it, I shall ask for nothing more." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +BEHIND THE COMMANDANT'S DOOR + +The commandant's door had come to be the portal through which I stepped +from safety into meddling. Yet I opened it now with laughter peeping +from my sleeve. To bait the Englishman in Huron seemed a good-natured +enough jest, and full of possibilities. + +But one look at the prisoner drained my laughter. He was lying on a +bench, his face hidden in his out-flung arms, and his slenderness and +helplessness pulled at me hard. I knew that despair, and even tears, +must have conquered now that he was alone, and I wished that I might +save his pride, and slip away until he had fought back his bravery, and +had himself in hand. + +But he had heard my step, and drew himself up to face me. He turned +with composure, and fronted me with so much dignity that I stood like a +blundering oaf trapped by my own emotion. There was no emotion in his +look. He had been thinking, not despairing, and his face was sharpened +and lighted with such concentration that I felt slapped with cold +steel. He looked all intellect and determination,--a thing of +will-power rather than flesh and brawn. + +My Huron speech seemed out of place, but there was no choice left me, +so I used it. There was refuge for my dignity in the sonorous +syllables, and I spoke as to a fellow sachem. Then I asked the +prisoner his name, and waited for response. + +None came. I knew that I had spoken rapidly, so I tried again. I +chose short words, and framed my sentences like a schoolmaster. The +prisoner listened negligently. Then he put out his hand. "Pardon, +monsieur. But I speak French,--though indifferently," he said, with a +slight shrug. + +My anger made my ears buzz; I would not bandy words with a man of so +small and sly a spirit. I turned to leave. + +But the prisoner stepped between me and the door. "You were sent here +with a message," he said; "I am listening." + +His sunken brown eyes were so deep in melancholy that I could not hold +my wrath. "Was it a gentleman's part to lead me on to play the clown?" +I asked. "I came in kindness." + +He smiled a little,--a bitter smile that did not reach his eyes. "I am +not, like you, a gentleman by birth, monsieur," he said slowly, "and so +often trip in my behavior. Granted that you were amusing,--and you +were, monsieur,--can you blame me for using you for a diversion? I +infer that you have come to tell me that the time left me, either for +amusement or penitence, is short." + +It was bravely said, but I knew from the careful repression of his tone +that his hardness was a brittle veneer. He was young to carry so bold +a front when his heart must be hammering, and I would willingly have +talked any doggerel to have afforded him another smile. + +"I know nothing of your future," I hastened, "save that, arguing from +your youth, it will probably be a long one. It was your past that I +was sent to ask concerning. The commandant sent me. Since you speak +French, my mission is over. The commandant will come himself." + +The prisoner laid his hand upon a chair. "Will you sit? I would +rather it be you than the commandant, if it must be any one. What were +you sent to ask?" + +I waved away the chair, for I thought of the passing moments and of +what I had promised Father Carheil. "I must hasten," I said irritably. +"What was I to ask? Why, your name, the account of your capture,--the +story of your being here, in brief." + +He saw that I glanced at the door, and he walked over to it. "Wait!" +he interposed. "I can answer you in a line. But one question first. +Monsieur, I--I"-- + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"Monsieur, I--I must think a moment. Be patient, if you will." + +His voice was calm, but there was something in his look that forced my +pity. "Tell me nothing that I must not tell the commandant," I warned. +"But be assured of my good will." + +I think he did not hear. He sat with his forehead on his hand, and I +knew that he was thinking. He looked up with a new decision in his +glance. + +"Monsieur, you lead a strange life in this place. I see nothing but +men. Have you no families?" + +I swore under my breath. I had expected some meat from his remark, and +he gave me trivialities. I had no time for social preliminaries, and I +felt sudden distaste for him. I pointed him to the window. + +"We are not all men. There are Indian women in plenty. Shall I draw +the shade that you may see? There are many of my countrymen to tell +you that they find them fair." + +"But are there no white families in the settlement?" He was leaning +forward, and he ignored the insult of my air. + +I shook my head. "None, monsieur. None short of Montreal." + +He tapped the floor, and frowned. His look went beyond me, and he was +absorbed. "None short of Montreal. Indeed you live a strange life. +Monsieur, is it far to Montreal?" + +I shrugged. "Yes, it is a long journey. Come, monsieur, we waste +time. I wish you good-day." + +He glanced up quickly. His was a misleading face, for while his words +were meaningless, and showed him of a small and trifling mind, his look +was yet keen. He saw that I had wearied of him, and he put out his +hand to beg my attention. + +"Wait, monsieur!" he cried. + +"Monsieur, you waste my time." + +"I shall waste no more. I have made up my mind. Listen. I promised +you my story." He had regained all his quiet arrogance. "It is soon +told. I am an Englishman,--or a colonist, if you like the term better. +I was in a village on the Connecticut frontier, when your savages came +down upon us. No, I am wrong. They did nothing so manly as to come +down upon us boldly. They slid among us like foul vermin afraid of the +light. They achieved a notable victory, monsieur. I see that you +recognize their prowess, and that the feast you have prepared for them +is lavish. It was a noble battle. I regret you could not have seen +it. There were some hundreds of the Indians, and a scattering handful +of us. A quiet farming community, monsieur, that worked hard, supped +early, and slept the deep sleep of quiet living and sober minds. We +waked to find the scalping knives at our throats, and the death scream +of children in our ears. Look over the bags of scalps, and see the +number of women and old men that your braves had to overcome. You will +be proud of them, monsieur." + +I clenched my hand, and wished myself elsewhere. "But our Hurons say +they were neutral," I defended. + +He lifted his brows. "You prefer to give all the praise to the +Algonquins?" he asked smoothly. "I understand. Yes, I have heard that +the Algonquins stand even closer to you than your Hurons here. They +are more than brothers. Indeed, it is said that your Count Frontenac +calls them his children. Well, they did you credit. It took ten of +them to silence Goodman Ellwood's musket, but they butchered him in the +end. If you find a scalp with long silky white hair, monsieur, it +belongs to John Ellwood. Value it, and nail it among your trophies, +for it cost you the lives of a full half-dozen Algonquin braves." + +I kept my eyes down. I had come here to unearth a certain fact, and I +would pursue it. "But were the Hurons neutral?" I persisted. + +I could not even guess at what raw nerve I touched, but he suddenly +threw his arms wide as men do when a shot is mortal. His cool +insolence dropped from him, and he was all fire and helpless defiance. +He stamped his foot, till, slender as he was, the boards rang. "Were +the Hurons neutral?" he mocked, in a voice so like my own I could have +sworn it was an echo. "What manner of man are you? Are you made of +chalk? If you had seen a child's brains dashed out against a tree, +would you stop to ask the Indian who held the dripping corpse what +dialect he spoke? Oh, a man should be ashamed to live who has seen +such things, and who keeps his sword sheathed while one of your Indian +family--brothers or children--remains alive! If you had blood in your +veins, you would be man enough not to put even an enemy upon the rack, +in this way, and force him to live that time over to glut your +curiosity. Here is my answer, which you may take to your commandant. +I am an Englishman, I am your prisoner, and you are to remember that I +am, first, last, and at all times, your foe. Now go to your +commandant, and tell him to keep himself and his schoolboy orations out +of my way." + +He was shaking, and his face was dead white. I did not answer, but I +took him by the arm, and led him to a chair. He tried to resist, but I +am strong. Then I brought him a cup of water from a pail that stood +near by. + +"Drink it," I said, "and when food is sent you, eat what you can. Your +race is not over, and if you wish to trick and outwit us,--as you were +planning when I found you lying here,--you will need more strength than +you are showing now. I have but one more question. You must tell me +your name." + +For a moment he did not reply. He was still shaking painfully, and +water from the cup in his hand splashed over him. "My name," he said +slowly, "my name is--is Benjamin Starling." + +I took the cup away. "I am waiting," I said after a pause. + +"Waiting for what, monsieur?" When he willed, he could speak +winningly, and he did it now. + +I took paper from my pocket. "For your real name," I answered. "I +shall write it here, and you must swear that it is true. Don't +squander lies. Plain dealing will be best for us both." + +He was as changeable as June weather. Now it was his cue to look +pleading. "The Indians called me by a name that meant bitter waters," +he said hesitatingly. "But my baptismal records say Starling. I am +telling you the truth, monsieur." + +I wrote the name so that he could see. "You give me your word as a +gentleman," I said, "that your name is Benjamin Starling." + +He stopped a moment. "Can a yeoman swear himself a gentleman?" he +asked. "I think not. I will be more explicit. I give you my oath as +a truth-loving person that my name is Starling." + +I put up the paper. "Thank you," I said. "And now. Monsieur +Starling, we will say good-by. I am only a chance wayfarer here, and +leave in an hour. I cannot wish you success, since you are my foe, but +I can wish you a safe return to your own kind. I hope that we shall +meet again. When I am dealing with a foe that I respect, I prefer him +with his hands unbound. Good-day, monsieur." + +But he was before me at the door. I saw that my news troubled him. + +"You mean," he asked, "that you are leaving here for several days?" + +I laid my hand on the latch. "No," I answered. "I leave for several +months, monsieur." + +"For months! Oh no!" he cried, and he drew back and looked at me. +"Then I am like never to see you again," he said thoughtfully. "You +have been kind to me." He suddenly thrust out his hand. "Monsieur, I +will be more generous than you. I wish you success." + +But I would not take his hand on those terms. + +"Don't!" I said roughly. "You cannot wish me success. It will mean +failure to you--to your people. No, we are foes, and let us wear our +colors honestly. Again, I wish you good-day," and, bowing, I raised +the latch, and made my way out of the commandant's door. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +IN THE OTTAWA CAMP + +Chance was disposed to be in a good humor. I had scarcely stepped into +the crowd when I saw Pierre. + +I went to him knowing that I should find opportunity for reproof, but +should probably lack the will. For Pierre was my harlequin, and what +man can easily censure his own amusements even when he sees their harm? +Then there was more to make me lenient. The man's family had served my +own for as many generations as the rooks had builded in our yews, and +so, on one side at least, he inherited blind loyalty to my name. I say +on one side, for his blood was mixed; his father had married a vagrant, +a half-gypsy Irish girl who begged among the villages. It was the +union of a stolid ox and a wildcat, and I had much amusement watching +the two breeds fight for the mastery in the huge Pierre. The cat was +quicker of wit, but the ox was of more use to me in the long run, so I +tried to keep an excess of stimulants--whether of brandy or +adventure--out of Pierre's way. + +He was a figure for Bacchus when I found him, and I pricked at him with +my sword, and drove him to the water, where I saw him well immersed. + +"Now for quick work," I admonished. "I must see the commandant, but +only for a moment. You gather the men, and have the canoes in waiting. +There will be no tobacco for you to-night, if you are not ready when I +come." + +He shook the water from his red locks, and wagged his head in much more +docile fashion than I had expected. "My master cannot go too fast for +me," he said, with a twist of his great protruding lip. "I have no +liking for white meat broth myself." + +He drew back like one who has hit a bull's-eye and waited for me to ask +questions, but I thought that I knew my man, and laughed at his +childishness. + +"No more of that!" I said with perfunctory sternness. "What pot-house +rabble of Indians have you been with that you should prattle of making +broth of white men, and dare bring such speech to me as a jest! That +is not talk for civilized men, and if you repeat it I shall send you +back to France. You are more familiar with the savages than I like a +man of mine to be. Remember that, Pierre. Now go." + +But he lingered. "It is no pot-house story," he defended sulkily. +"The Ottawas say they will go to war if the prisoner is not put in the +pot before to-morrow morning. And what can the commandant do? The +Ottawas are two thousand strong." + +I knew, without comment, that he was telling me the truth, and I stood +still. The din of the dancing and feasting was growing more and more +uproarious, and the Indians were ripe for any insanity. I saw that the +sun was already casting long shadows, and that the night would be on us +before many hours. I looked at the garrison. Two hundred Frenchmen +all told, and most of them half-hearted when it came to defending an +Englishman and a foe! I turned to my man. + +"You have been with an Ottawa girl, called Singing Arrow," I said. +"Are you bringing me some woman's tale you learned from her?" + +He squirmed like a clumsy puppy, but I could see his pride in my +omniscience. "She is smarter than a man," he said vaguely. + +And Pierre were the man, I thought that likely. "Take me to her," I +commanded. + +I expected to follow him among the revelers, but he turned his back on +them, and led the way through a labyrinth of huts, a maze so winding +that I judged him more sober than I had thought. When we found the +girl, she was alone, and I saw from her look that this was not the +first visit Pierre had made. + +He summoned her importantly, while I withdrew to a distance, that I +might have her brought to me in form. I was intent and uneasy, but I +had room in my heart for vain self-satisfaction that I knew something +of the Ottawa speech. My proficiency in Indian dialects, for which the +world praised me lightly, as it might commend the cut of my doublet, +had cost me much drudgery and denial, and my moments of reward were +rare. + +Singing Arrow came forward, and curtsied as the priests had taught her. +I was forced to approve my man's taste. Not that she was beautiful to +my eyes, for brown women were never to my liking; but she had youth and +neatness, and when she raised her eyes I saw that I might look for +intelligence and daring. I motioned her to come nearer. + +"Singing Arrow," I said, in somewhat halting Ottawa, "my man here tells +me that your people are talking as if they were asleep, and were +dreaming that they were all kings. Now when a dog barks at the moon, +we do not stop to tremble for the safety of the moon, but we ask what +is the matter with the dog. That is what I would ask of you. What do +the Ottawas care what Monsieur de la Mothe-Cadillac, the commandant, +does with the English prisoner?" + +She thought a moment, and plaited the folds of her beaver-skin skirt as +I have seen many a white girl do. "I know of no dog," she said, with a +slow upward glance that tried to gauge my temper. "And as for the +moon, it shines alike on the grass and the tall trees, and I have seen +no Frenchman yet who could reach up and pluck it from its place. But I +have seen a chain that was once bright like silver grow dull and eaten +with rust. A wise man will throw such a chain away, and ask for a new +one." + +I shrugged. "You have sharp eyes," I said, shrugging yet more, "if you +can see rust on the covenant chain that binds the French to the +Ottawas. Is that what you mean?" + +She looked up with a flash of fun and diablerie such as I never thought +to see in a savage face. "Then monsieur has seen it himself?" + +Now this would not do; I would leave all gallantries to my subordinate. +"This is idle talk," I said, as I lit my pipe, and prepared as if to +go. "It is the clatter of water among stones that makes a great noise, +but goes nowhere. I have seen many strange things in my life, but +never a cat that could fight fair, nor a woman that could answer a +direct question. Look at this now. I ask you about the English +prisoner, and you talk to me of covenant chains." + +She looked at me with impassive good humor, her hands busy with her +wampum necklaces, and I saw, not only that I had failed to entrap her +into losing her temper, but that I was dealing with a quick-witted +woman of a race whose women were trained politicians. But, for reasons +of her own, she chose to answer me fairly. + +"The Frenchman is right," she said, with a second swift upward look to +test the ice where she was venturing. "I was wrong to talk of the +covenant between the French and my people, for the chain is too weak to +bear even the weight of words. It is rusted till it is as useless as a +band of grasses to bind a wild bull. But blood will cleanse rust. +What can the French want with their enemy, the Englishman? Why should +not the prisoner's blood be used to brighten the chain between the +Ottawas and the French?" + +Now this was plain language. I listened to the girl's speech, which +was as gently cadenced as if she talked of flowers or summer pleasures, +and thought that here was indeed snake's venom offered as a sweetmeat. +But why did she warn me? I had a flash of sense. I went to her, and +compelled her to stop playing with her necklaces, and raise her eyes to +mine. + +"Answer me, Singing Arrow," I commanded. "You are repeating what was +said in council, but you do not agree with it. You would like to save +the prisoner. Look at me again. Am I right?" + +I could as well have held an eel. She slipped from my hands, and ran +back to her lodge. "So!" she cried, as she lifted the mat before her +door. "So it is not the dog alone that smells at its food before it +will eat. Why stay here? I have given you what you came to find. +Take it." And with a look at Pierre she disappeared. + +Pierre gave a great bellow of laughter. "I will catch her," he +volunteered, and made a plunge in the direction of the lodge; but I +caught him by the hood of his blanket coat, and let his own impetus +choke him. + +"Now look you, Pierre Boudin," I said, "if you cross the door of that +lodge on any errand,--on any errand, mind you,--you are no longer man +of mine. I mean that; you are no longer man of mine. Now begone. +Gather the men, go to the canoes, and wait there till I come. I may +come soon; I may not come till morning." + +Pierre was still swelling. "As the master wishes," he said, with his +eyes down; but I thought that he hesitated, and I called him to me. + +"Pierre," I said, "do you want to be sent back to Montreal, and have +Francois Labarthe put in your place?" + +The giant looked up to see how much I was in earnest, and, as I +returned his look, all his bravado oozed away. It does not seem quite +the part of a man to cow a subordinate till he looks at you with the +eyes of a whipped hound; but it was the only method to use with Pierre, +and I went away satisfied. + +I turned my steps toward the main camp of Ottawas, and there I idled +for an hour. The braves were good-humored with me, for I was a trader, +not an officer, and their noses were keen for the brandy that I might +have for barter. So that I was free to watch them at their gambling, +or dip my ladle in their kettles if I willed. All this was good, but +it went no further. With all my artifices, I could not make my way +into the great circle around the camp fire, and I grew sore with my +incapacity, for I saw that Longuant, the most powerful chief of the +Ottawas, was speaking. I picked up a bone and threw it among the dogs +with an oath for my own slowness. + +The bone was greasy, and I took out my handkerchief, but before I could +use it to wipe my hands, a young squaw pushed her way up to me, and +offered her long black hair as a napkin. She threw the oily length +across my arm, and flattered me in fluent Ottawa. + +Then I forgot myself. The body frequently plays traitor in +emergencies, and my repugnance conquered me so that I pushed her away +before I had time to think. Then I knew that I must make amends. + +"The beauty of your hair is like the black ice with the moon on it," I +said in Ottawa. "You must not soil it." + +She giggled with pleasure to hear me use her own tongue, and would have +come close to me again, but I motioned her away. + +"Stay there, and catch this," I called, and I tossed her a small coin. + +For all her squat figure and her broad, dull face, she was quick of +action as a weasel. She put her hands behind her, and, thrusting her +head forward, caught the coin in her teeth. It was well done; so well +that I said "Brava," and the braves around me gave approving grunts. + +"Look at the stupid Frenchman!" I heard a brave say. "For all his red +coat, and his manners, he cannot catch as well as a squaw." + +I pointed my finger at him, and twirled my mustaches as if I were +playing villain in a comedy. "A Frenchman does not stoop to catch +money," I vaunted, with my arm akimbo. "Money is for slaves and women. +Give the Frenchman a spear, a man's weapon, and then see if he can be +beaten at throwing by a squaw." + +There was a laugh at this, and the squaw to whom I had thrown the coin +seized a sturgeon spear that leaned against a kettle, and hurled it at +me. I turned my back, and caught it over my shoulder. There was a +hush among the braves for a moment, then a low growl of applause. "Let +him do it again," several voices cried. + +I did it again, and yet again, in varying ways. The squaw threw well, +and caught better, but she was no match for my longer reach and better +training. Still we kept the spear hurtling. With each throw I backed +a pace or two toward the council fire, and the crowd made way for me. + +"This is enough," I cried at length. "Have you no men among you who +can throw better than your women?" + +A dozen braves, each clamoring, leaped forward, but before I could +select one of them, a young Huron elbowed his way into the midst of +them and placed himself before me. + +"Try your skill with me," he cried, striking his breast, and though he +spoke a broken mixture of Huron and Ottawa, his air was so rhetorical +that the Ottawas, always keen for a dramatic moment, stopped to listen. + +I balanced the spear in my hand. "I am trying my skill with the +Ottawas," I said. "Since when has Pemaou, the Huron, forsaken his own +camp?" + +The Huron drew back. He was a son of that adroit traitor, the Baron, +and what his presence in this camp meant, I could only surmise. But +that he was of the Baron's blood was enough for me, and I was prepared +to dislike him without searching for excuse. He, on his part, looked +equally unfriendly. He resented my recognition, and taking his war +spear from his belt he sent it at me with a vicious fling. + +This heated my blood. I caught the spear, and tested it across my +knee. It was pliant but tough, and wickedly barbed,--a weapon for a +man to respect. "So you wanted the color of my blood," I called +angrily. "You have a good spear; all that was lacking was a man to aim +it;" and with a contemptuous laugh I tossed the spear back to his hand. + +Now this was mere childishness, and I knew it, and hoped, with shame +for my own lack of sense, that Pemaou would not accept my covert +challenge, and that the matter would end there. But Pemaou had +purposes of his own. He looked at the spear for a moment, then sent it +spinning toward my head. "On guard!" he cried in my own tongue, and I +remembered that he had spent some time among the French at Montreal. + +I caught the spear, and cursed myself for a fool. The Indians again +gave tongue to their approval, and gathered in a ring, leaving the +space between Pemaou and myself clear. All was ready for the game to +proceed. I hesitated a moment, and the Ottawas laughed, while Pemaou +looked disdainful. + +All animals are braggarts, from the cock in the barnyard to the moose +when he hears his rival, and man is not much better. I pricked the +spear point against my hand, and looked at it critically. + +"It is as dull as the Huron's wits," I scoffed, "but we will do the +best that we can with it;" and stepping back several feet nearer the +council fire, I put the weapon into play. + +I have been in weightier occasions than the one that followed, but +never in one that I can remember in more detail. In all lives there +are moments that memory paints in bright, crude colors, like pictures +in a child's book, and so this scene looks to me now. I can see the +crowding Ottawas, their bodies painted red and black, their nose +pendants--a pebble hung on a deer-sinew--swinging against their greasy +lips as they shouted plaudits or derision. But best I can see Pemaou, +dancing between me and the sun like some grotesque dream fantasy. He +was in full war bravery, his body painted red, barred with white +stripes to imitate the lacing on our uniforms, and his hair +feather-decked till he towered in height like a fir tree. I say that +he was grotesque, but at the time I did not think of his appearance; I +thought only that here was a man who was my mate in cunning, and who +wished me ill. + +This was no squaw's game, for each cast was made with force and method. +We both threw warily, and the spear whistled to and fro as regularly as +a weaver's shuttle. I backed my way toward the council fire until I +could hear Longuant distinctly, then I prayed my faculties to serve me +well, and stood my ground. My mind was on the rack. I could not, for +the briefest instant, release the tension of my thought as to the game +before me, yet I missed no sound from the group around the fire. The +low, red sun dazzled my eyes, and I waited, with each throw from the +Huron, for one that should be aimed with deadlier intent. + +For I realized that Pemaou was not doing his best, and, since I had +seen hate in his eyes, this clemency troubled me. I wondered if he +were a decoy, and if some one were coming upon me from the rear, and I +stopped and stared at him with defiance, only to see that he was +looking, not at me, nor at the attentive audience around us, but over +my head at the council fire. + +Then, indeed, the truth clapped me in the face, and I could have +laughed aloud to think what a puppet I had been, just when I was +comforting my vanity with my own shrewdness. Of course, Pemaou would +spare me, and so prolong the game. As the son of the leader of the +Hurons, he had more to learn from Longuant's speech than I. We were +playing with the same cards, but his stakes were the larger. I +suddenly realized that I was enjoying myself more than in a long time. + +But the test was to come. When Pemaou had heard all he wished, he +would aim the spear at my throat, and so, though I threw negligently, I +watched like a starved cat. I heard the council agree upon a decisive +measure, and I knew that the Huron's moment had arrived. He seized it. +His spear whistled at me like a bullet, but my muscles were braced and +waiting. I caught the weapon, and held it, though the wood ate into my +palms. The savages told the Huron in a derisive roar that the +Frenchman was the better man. + +And now it was my turn. So far I had thrown fair, without twist or +trickery, but I knew one turn of the wrist that could do cruel work. +Should I use it? Pemaou had tried to murder me. I looked at his +red-and-white body, and reptile eyes, and hate rushed to my brain like +liquor. I took the spear and snapped it. + +"Take your plaything!" I cried, and I tossed the fragments in his face. +"Learn to use it if you care for a whole skin, for I promise you that +we shall meet again." And turning my back on him, I strode out of the +Ottawa camp the richer by some information, and one foe. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +A DECISION + +I found Cadillac in his private room at the fort, and said to myself that +he looked like a man stripped for running. Not that his apparel had +altered since I had met him swaggering upon the beach the day before, but +his bearing had changed. He had dropped superfluities, and was hardened +and sinewed for action. + +I expected him to rate me for my tardiness in reporting my interview with +the Englishman, but, instead, he greeted me with so much eagerness that I +saw that some of my news must have run before. + +"What do you know?" I cried. + +He looked at the crowd swarming outside the window. "That we are in a +hornets' nest," he said, with a wry smile. "But never mind that now. We +must talk rapidly. I have been waiting for you. I could not act till I +learned what you had done." + +I bowed my regrets. "I was delayed. I saw the Englishman, and"---- + +He cut me short. "Never mind the Englishman," he cried, with a wave of +his impatient hand. "Tell me of the Ottawa camp. You have been there an +hour. I hear that you danced where they danced, and shared dog-meat and +jest alike. In faith, Montlivet, I have a good will to keep you here in +irons if I can do it in no gentler way. But what did Longuant say at the +council fire?" + +I made sure that we were alone, and dropped into a chair. My muscles +were complaining, yet I knew that I had but begun my day's work. "It was +a long council," I said, "and all the old men were there. Longuant was +leader, but he was but one of many. The Ottawas are much stirred." + +"About the prisoner?" + +I shook my head. "The prisoner is the excuse,--the touchstone. The real +matter goes deep. You have not blinded these people. They know that +England and France are at war, but they know, too, that peace may be +declared any day. They know that the Baron has made an underground +treaty with the English and the Iroquois, and they realize that the +Iroquois may attack this place at any time with half the band of Hurons +at their back. They have no illusions as to what such an attack would +mean. They know that the French would make terms and be spared, but that +the Ottawas and the loyal Hurons would be butchered. They are +far-sighted." + +Cadillac nodded heavily. "So they think that we would desert them, and +hand them over to the Iroquois? We must reassure them." + +I rapped on the table. "We did desert them once," I reminded him. "They +know how we abandoned the refugee Hurons at Quebec, and they hold our +word lightly. It shames us to say this, but we must see matters as they +are. No, the Ottawas do not trust us, but they trust the English less. +It is a choice of evils. But they are shrewd enough to see that their +greatest peril lies in a truce between ourselves and the English. Then +they would indeed be between two stools. Now, they see that there are +two paths open." + +Cadillac was breathing heavily. "You mean"--he asked. + +I spoke slowly. "I mean," I said, "that they must either go over to the +English themselves, or succeed in embroiling us with the English." + +"And they chose?" + +"They did not choose. They temporized. They see the advantages of a +union with the English. A better beaver market, and plenty of brandy. +It goes hard with them that we are frugal with our muskets, while the +English keep the Iroquois well armed. Longuant says, and justly, that it +is difficult to kill men with clubs. On the other hand they like us, and +find the English abhorrent. So they have virtually agreed to leave the +casting vote with you. They will come after sundown and demand that the +prisoner be given them for torture. If you agree, they will feel that +you have declared your position against the English; if you refuse"---- +I broke off, and leaned back in the chair. I had not realized, till my +own voice stated it, how black a case we had in hand. + +We sat in silence for a time. Cadillac scowled and beat his palm upon +his knee as a flail beats grain, and I knew he needed no words of mine. +I thought that he was going over his defenses in his mind, and I began to +calculate how many rounds of shot I had in my canoes, and to hope that my +men would not prove cravens. I knew, without argument with myself, that +the beaver lands did not need me half as much as I was needed here. + +At length Cadillac looked up. "Do you think the prisoner is a spy?" he +asked. + +I had dreaded this question. "I am afraid so, but judge of him yourself. +He speaks French." + +Cadillac half rose. "He speaks French? Yet he is an Englishman?" + +I nodded. "Undoubtedly an Englishman." + +"And you made nothing of him?" + +I could only shake my head. "Nothing. He tells the story that I should +tell if I were lying,--yet he may be telling the truth. He is a bundle +of inconsistencies; that may be nature or art. He may be a hot-headed +youth, who knows nothing beyond his own bitterness over his capture, or +he may be a clever actor. I do not know." + +Cadillac gave a long breath that was near a sigh. "Poor soul!" he said +unexpectedly. "Well, spy or otherwise, it matters little for the few +hours remaining." + +I caught his arm across the table. "Cadillac!" I cried, with an oath. +"You would not do that!" + +He shook off my hand, and looked at me with more regret than anger. "I +am the rat in the trap," he said simply. "What did you expect me to do?" + +I rose. "Do you mean," I cried, my voice rasping, "that you will not +attempt a defense? that you will hand a man, a white man, over to those +fiends of hell? Good God, man, you are worse than the Iroquois!" + +He came over, and seized my arm. "I could run you through for that +speech," he said, his teeth grating. "Are you a child, that you cannot +look beyond the moment? Suppose I defy the Ottawas. Then I must call on +the Baron to help me, since it was his men who brought the prisoner to +camp. Why, man, are you crazed? Look at the situation. Kondiaronk, the +Huron, will reason as the Ottawas have done, and throw his forces on +their side. I should be left with only the Baron to back me,--the Baron, +who has been whetting his knife for my throat for the last year. Why, +this is what he wants; this is why he brought the prisoner here! Would +you have me walk into his trap? Would you have me sacrifice my men, this +garrison, why, this country even, to save the life of one puny +Englishman, who is probably himself a spy?" He stopped a moment. "Why, +man, you sicken me!" he cried, and he slashed at me with his sword as if +I were a reptile. + +I took my own sword, and laid it on the table. "I am a fool," I said, +not for the first time that day. "But how will Frontenac look at your +handing a white man over to torture?" + +Cadillac put up his sword. "My orders are plain," he said, tapping a +sheaf of papers on his desk. "They came in the last packet. I am to +treat all prisoners in the Indian manner. As you say, the Indians have +come to think us chicken-hearted. We must give them more than words if +we are to hold them as allies." + +I seized sword and hat. "You are a good servant," I said. "I wish you +joy of your obedience," and I plunged toward the door. + +But an orderly stopped me on the threshold. "Is Monsieur de la +Mothe-Cadillac within?" he asked. "The Baron desires an audience with +him." + +Cadillac pushed up behind me. "I am here," he called to the orderly. +"Tell the Baron that I will see him when the sun touches the water-line." +Then he pulled me back into the room. "How much do you think the Baron +knows?" he demanded. + +I felt shame for my forgetfulness. "Pemaou was in the Ottawa camp," I +said, and I told him what had happened. + +Cadillac's face hardened. "Then they have sent to demand the prisoner," +he pondered moodily. "I had hoped for a few hours' respite. There might +have been some way for the prisoner to escape." + +I had been walking the floor, grinding my mailed heels into the pine +wood. "Escape!" I cried at him. "Escape! To starve or be eaten by +wolves! The torture of the Ottawas were kinder. Now it is your turn to +play the child. Escape? Yes, but not alone. Go, go, monsieur! Go and +meet the Baron. Go before I change my mind. Tell the Baron he can have +the prisoner. Then go to Longuant, and make what terms you will with +him. Make any concessions. Feather your nest while you can. I want +some one to win at this, since I must lose. I will take the prisoner +west with me." + +Cadillac seized me. "Montlivet, you mean this?" he demanded. His grip +ate into my arm. + +I reached up, and unclasped his fingers. "Unhand me!" I grumbled. "I +must be on my way." + +But he paid no heed. "You mean this?" he reiterated, taking a fresh +grip. "The prisoner will hamper you." + +I tore my arm away. "Hamper me!" I jerked out. "He will clog me, +manacle me! But it is the only thing to do. Now go, while this mood +holds with me. Five minutes hence I may not see things in this way. Go! +I will arrange the escape. You, as commandant, must not connive with me +at that. Go to the Indians, and make your terms. If you can hold them +off till moonrise, I promise you the prisoner shall be gone." + +But Cadillac would not hasten. He gave me the long estimating glance +that I had seen him use once before. "Montlivet," he said, with his arm +across my shoulder, "you are doing a great thing; a great thing for +France. No man could serve his country more fully than you are doing at +this moment. It is an obscure deed, but a momentous one. No one can +tell what you may be doing for the empire by helping us through this +crisis." + +But I was in no mood for heroics. "I am not doing this for France," I +cried irritably. "I live to serve France, yes; but I want to serve her +in my own way. Not to have this millstone tied around my neck, whether I +will or no. Don't think for a moment that I do this because I wish." + +Cadillac removed his arm and looked at me. "Then you do it from liking +for the Englishman?" + +I should have had the grace to laugh at this, but now it was the torch to +the magazine. "Like him! No!" I shouted, with an oath. "He is bitter +of tongue, and, I think, a spy. He is obnoxious to me. No, I am doing +this because I am, what the Ottawas call us all,--chicken-hearted!" and +sick with myself and what I had undertaken, I flung out of the door. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +DAME OPPORTUNITY + +The first thing to do was to see the Englishman. For the third time in +twenty-four hours I went to the commandant's quarters. + +The prisoner was at the window when I entered, and again I caught his +look of keen intelligence; a look which he apparently tried to veil as +his eyes met mine. That bred suspicion in me. Yet I could not mistake +the welcome with which he greeted me. + +"I am gratified to see you again, monsieur." Now it was a civil +phrase, and well spoken, but it annoyed me. I could not understand his +change of look, and I dislike complexities. What was the man +concealing that he should drop his eyes before me. In spite of the +seriousness of our joint state, I felt much inclination to take time, +then and there, to box his ears, and tell him to be more forthright. +My annoyance made it easier for me to come without phrases to the meat +of the matter. I pressed him to a chair, and stood over him. + +"You looked out of the window, Monsieur Starling. What did you learn?" + +He glanced upward. "The Indians are excited. Am I the cause?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +His glance fell. "They want me--for torture," he said, with steadiness +I could not but commend. Then he turned suddenly. "Can your +commandant protect me?" + +Now this was unexpected. I had intended to lead up to this situation +gradually, and the question caught me unguarded. The prisoner was +looking me full in the face, and he read there what I had hoped to hide. + +"I understand," he said. + +I have been with many men when they heard their death sentence, and +those who take it as this man did, with spirit and knowledge, rob me of +my hold on myself, so that I show emotion of which I am ashamed. I +turned away. "Wait, wait, monsieur, I have not said all!" I cried. +"There is still one chance for you." + +He shook his head. "Small chance for me with that swarm outside. +Well, what must come, will come." He was white, and his eyes grew even +more sombre; but, though his blood might play him traitor, his will was +unshaken. I saw that. I saw, too, that his manner had lost all +bravado. He suddenly came to me, and laid his hand on my arm. "I am +glad, monsieur, that it was you who came to tell me. It is much easier +to hear it from you. All day you have been thoughtful for me; for me, +a stranger and an enemy. I wish that my blessing might bring you +happiness, monsieur." And before I could check him, he raised my hand +to his lips. + +I was greatly disturbed. "Stop! Stop! Stop!" I expostulated, too +much stirred to think what I was saying. "This is not the end. You +are to go west with me." + +He drew away. "With you? Who are you? What is the west? You +said--you said that I had to die." + +I felt unsteady, and ill at ease. "Let us discuss this like sane men!" +I exclaimed, angry at myself. "You jump at conclusions. That is a +woman's foible. Who am I? A trader, Armand de Montlivet, from +Montreal. I am going west for peltries. It will be a hard trip, and +you will suffer; but it is your only chance. I will get you to the +canoe in some fashion soon after dusk. I have not made my plans. I +must reconnoitre. Hold yourself ready to do what I ask." + +Still he drew away. "I shall be a burden. Tell me the truth, shall I +be a burden?" + +"Yes." + +He did not look angered. Indeed, his eyes softened till I thought him +near tears. "And you will do this for me! Run all this risk! And yet +you never saw me before to-day!" He touched his hand to mine. + +Somehow this again annoyed me. The man was concealing something from +me, yet affected to be moved to open emotion by his gratitude. I was +not at the bottom of him yet. I removed his hand. + +"Monsieur, you forget," I corrected. "You said we were foes, and we +are. I never embraced an Englishman, and I shall not begin now--now +that our nations are at war. You may be a spy." + +"You think me a spy!" + +I sighed from exasperation, and pointed to the window. "Monsieur +Starling, wake up to this situation. What does it matter what you are, +or what I think? We waste time. Say that you will follow me, and I +shall go and make my plans." + +But still he looked at me. "Then you encumber yourself with me from +abstract duty. Personally you distrust me." + +The truth seemed best. I bowed. + +He thought this over. "Then I refuse to go," he decided quietly. "I +refuse." And he bowed toward the door to put a period to our interview. + +But here my patience broke. I took him by the arm, and held him +ungently. "Words! Words! Words!" I mocked at him. "What would you +have me say? That I love you? In faith, I don't. You irritate me; +annoy me. But save you I will, if only for my peace of mind. Look at +me. Look at me, I say." + +He obeyed. All his hard nonchalance had returned. + +"Do you trust me?" I demanded. + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"Then you will come with me?" + +"No, monsieur." + +This was madness--and it took time. "Indeed you will come," I said +between my teeth. "And that without more words. Good-by." + +But he caught my sleeve. "Then you take me against my will." + +I brushed him away. "And against mine, too, if you balk my wishes at +every turn. But I will take you. It is the only chance you have, and +if you are mad enough to refuse it, I must force it on you. Remember, +I shall use force. Now stay by the window, and await my signal. I +shall come when I can." + +He followed to the door. "You will not need to use force with me, +monsieur," he said soberly. "If you insist on taking me, I shall +follow your directions, and use what wit I can. But I cannot thank +you, for I cannot feel grateful. You give under protest, and I accept +in the same way. It is a forced companionship. I do not wish to die; +but, after all, it will soon be over, and life has not been sweet. I +would rather risk what meets me here than take help from you, now that +I see you give it grudgingly." + +This chilled me, and excuses pressed hot on my tongue. Yet it was +unwise to protest. Why should I wish his gratitude? It would hamper +us both. I had no desire to bind him to me with obligations. I felt +shame for my coldness; but, for once, my head ruled, and I let the +situation stand. + +"You are a brave man, monsieur," I said inconsequently. "I know that +you will bear your share to-night." + +He laid his hand on the door, and searched me with his sad eyes. "One +last word," he said, "and then I shall bury this for aye. Monsieur, if +I bring you misfortune, I ask you to remember--to remember from now +on--that you took me against my will." + +For all my impatience, I had some effort not to smile. He would be a +burden, he might be a nuisance, but he could hardly be a misfortune. +He had a weighty sense of his importance, to use so large a term. But +I would not ridicule him. "I promise," I said. + +He held out his hand. "Say that again with your hand in mine. Promise +me that, whatever disaster I bring you, you will remember that I came +against my will." + +Somehow that sobered me. "I promise," I repeated, and touching his +hand, and again bidding him be on the watch, I went away. + +I had no plans. My mind was cloudy as muddy water, and I sauntered +around the camp looking important and weighty with calculation, but +feeling resourceless and slow. Then I bethought me of Singing Arrow. + +I shouldered my way to her lodge with speed that made me a target for +scantily hidden laughter. But I could not find her. Lodge and fire +were alike deserted. I asked questions, but was met by shrugs. My +eagerness had been unwise. I had sought too openly and brusquely, and +the Ottawas suspected my zeal of being official rather than personal. +I saw myself in their eyes as an officer of the law, and knew that I +had closed one door in my own face. I told myself contemptuously that +I had made so many blunders in that one day that I must, by this time, +have exhausted the list, and that I would soon stumble on the right +road as the only one left. + +And so it proved. For I went to my canoes, and there, perched +bird-wise on my cargo, and flinging jests and laughter at Pierre and +the men, sat Singing Arrow. + +It was what I most wanted, and so relieved was I at finding it, that I +could not forbear a word of reproof. + +"I told you to keep away from Singing Arrow!" I stormed at Pierre, like +the mother who stops to shake her recovered child before she cries over +it. + +Pierre grinned shamefacedly, but Singing Arrow smiled like May sunlight. + +"Has monsieur been looking for me?" she asked. "He carries the wet red +clay that lies in front of my wigwam," and she pointed a curving finger +at my boots. + +I could have embraced her. If I had no wit, she had it and to spare. +I made up my mind, then and there, to trust her. It was a mad chance, +but a good gamester likes a dangerous throw. + +"Come here, Singing Arrow," I commanded, and I would have led her down +the beach out of earshot. + +She followed but a step or two, then halted, balancing herself on one +foot like a meditative crane. "I want sunset-head to go too," she +insisted, darting her covert bird-glance at Pierre, and when I would +have objected, I saw her mouth pinch together, and I remembered that no +Indian will submit to force. So I let her have her will. + +We held short council: Pierre the peasant, Singing Arrow the squaw, and +I, the Seignior de Montlivet. We mingled suggestions and advice, and +struck a balance. The sunset flamed in the woods behind us, and I knew +that the moon rose early. I could have used a knife upon Pierre for +the time it took me to convince him that our canoes could carry one man +more. Heretofore my nod had been enough to bring him to my heels, but +now he thought his head in danger, so he fought with me like an animal +or an equal. The equal I would not tolerate, and the animal I cowed in +brute fashion. Then I sent Singing Arrow to do her work, and I went to +the Englishman. + +The Englishman saw me from the window, and was at the door before I +could lift the latch. Yet his eagerness did not trip him into +carelessness, and so long as the guards could see, he greeted me with a +hostile stare. + +I pushed him within, and closed the door. "Have you seen any one?" I +asked. + +"Only the guard with my supper." + +I drew a freer breath. "Good tidings. Then Cadillac has succeeded in +holding off the Indians until moonrise." + +He glanced out at the dusk. "That is not long," he said +dispassionately. + +I put out my hand. Somehow this youth could move me curiously by his +calmness, although I was no stranger to brave men. + +"The time is terribly short," I agreed, "but we will make it suffice. +And we need not haste. We can do nothing till it is a little darker, +then we shall move swiftly. A young squaw, Singing Arrow, will be here +in a few minutes. You are to escape in her dress." + +He wasted no time in comment. "Am I dark enough?" he demurred. "My +neck, where I am not sunburned, is very white." + +I had thought of this, and had warned Singing Arrow. "There is no +opportunity to stain your skin," I said, "so we must trust to the dark, +and a blanket wrapping. The Indian will wear leggings, skirt and +blouse of skin, so you will be fairly covered. The hands and hair are +the weak points. You will have to keep them in the blanket." + +He hesitated. "You can trust this girl?" he asked slowly. + +Now why should he ask what he knew I could not answer? "Can you trust +me--or I you, for the matter of that?" I jerked out with a frown. +"This is an outlaw's land, and the wise man trusts no one except under +compulsion. I would not trust Singing Arrow for a moment if I could +help myself, but she is our only hope, so I trust her implicitly. I +advise you to do the same. Half measures are folly. If you try to be +cautious in your dealings with her, you will tie her hands so that the +whole thing will fall through. If she betrays us--well, you are in no +worse estate than now, and we will still have my sword and my men to +depend on. But that is a slender hope, and we will save it for a last +resort. Now we will hazard everything on this plan." + +I had made my long speech nervously, knowing, in my heart, that what I +asked the man to do would take more courage of soul than one would +expect to find in his slender frame. For I might be throwing him over +to fiendish torment. The Indian women were cruel as weasels, and more +ingenious in their trap-setting than the men. It cooled my blood to +think what Singing Arrow's friendliness might really mean. + +The prisoner heard me without flinching. "But what is Singing Arrow's +motive?" he asked, with his mournful eyes full on my own. "We cannot +read men's hearts, but, after all, there are but few springs that rule +their action. You know that I will be loyal to you to save my head, to +which, though it has served me badly, I yet cling. I know that you +will be loyal to me because I see that God gave you a softness of heart +which your brain tells you is unwise. But what string pulls this +Indian that she should be a traitor to her people? If you will give me +a hint, I will play upon it as best I can." + +I could only shrug. "It may be my man, Pierre," I hazarded. "He is +red as a flamingo, and a fool into the bargain; but he has shoulders +like an ox, so the women want him. I can see no other motive. Will +you trust to that, monsieur?" + +He looked back at me with the flicker of a smile. "It is sufficient." + +I do not like smiles that I cannot understand, so I changed the +subject. "The plan is simple, monsieur," I said briskly. "Singing +Arrow will come to the window, and you are to make love to her. After +a time--not too long--you are to beguile her inside. I think the +guards will be complaisant, if you play your part well. Be as debonair +as possible. A soldier is always tempted to be lenient to a jaunty +foe." + +The prisoner nodded. "And you will meet me?" + +"Outside in the camp. I shall stand near a fire, so that you can find +me at once. Remember, monsieur, that you are Singing Arrow, and that +it will be your cue to follow me, and mine to shrug you away." + +The Englishman drew a long breath. "I am ready, monsieur," he said, +with a little squaring of the shoulders, and I saw that, mortal danger +that he was in, his spirit yet responded to the touch of comedy in the +game. + +I saluted him with a laugh of my own. "Then I will go, monsieur. Go +into the next room to change your clothing, or the guard may come in +and find you. One thing more. Remember you have overpowered Singing +Arrow, and taken your disguise by force. It may be well to lock her in +that inside room before you leave; but do as you like. I leave details +to you." + +He made acknowledgment with a sweeping bow. "I will be a monster of +cruelty," he promised, and he pulled at imaginary mustachios like a +child at play. + +Now it may be well to commend nonchalance, but there are bounds that +should not be passed. Had this man no reverence toward the mystery of +his own life that he jested on the edge of it? I had rather have seen +him with a rosary in his hand than with defiance on his lips. + +"Is life all bitterness and sharp-edged laughter with you, monsieur?" I +asked bluntly. "This may be our last talk. It is hardly a seemly one. +If you have messages to send that will not compromise you, I will try +and get them through--in case our plans fail." + +The prisoner eyed me oddly. "And in case you still live, monsieur," he +corrected. "You show much solicitude that I meet my end decorously, +yet I cannot see that you display any dolor over your own condition. +Why should I have less fortitude? You are like a man who cares not for +religion for himself, yet insists upon it for children and for his +womenkind,--for his inferiors in general. Why should you feel that I +need so much prompting?" His voice suddenly hardened. "Tell me. Is +it my youth that makes you feel yourself my mentor, or have I failed +you in any way? Answer." And he gave the stamp of the foot that I had +heard once before. + +How could I answer but with laughter? "You are a leopard, and a lamb, +and a bantam cock all in one," I jeered at him. "No wonder that I feel +you need a priest to shrive you;" and I laughed again, and would not +notice the hurt shining of his eyes as I went away. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE BEGINNING + +I had not vaunted idly when I told the prisoner that our plans were +ready. I had scarcely dropped the latch of the commandant's door when +I saw Singing Arrow sauntering near. + +She was graceful in her finery. Even a white man might commend. Her +skin garments looked soft and clean, and draped her cunningly. In the +dusk and the firelight with the bright blanket falling from her hair, +she looked so winning that I thought the guards could find excuse if +the prisoner loitered at the window. + +And loiter he did. I sauntered and watched while the prisoner and +Singing Arrow threw glances that proved them no tyros in the game of +love and life. The comedy was pleasing, and I did not wonder that the +guards tilted their heads to one side, and looked on with grins. +Singing Arrow bridled, and drew away and then drew near. All was going +as we planned, till Pemaou and a band of his Hurons came around the +corner of the house. + +I had done Pemaou the justice to hate him when I first saw him. And +one does not hate an inferior. He had as keen a mind as I have ever +known, and he was not hampered by any of the scruples and decencies +that interfere with a white man. So he was my superior in resource. I +knew, as I saw him look at me now, that my share in the game was over. +He had seen me listening to Longuant. Where had my wits been lagging +that I had not foreseen that he would have spies watching me, and would +trace some connection between the prisoner and myself? Well, there was +nothing left me but to stroll away. I did not dare go in the direction +of the canoes; it would be unwise to seek Cadillac; so I turned boldly +to the Ottawa camp. Hardly knowing what I planned, I asked for +Longuant. + +Somewhat to my surprise, the Ottawas listened with respect. I had +apparently won some reputation among them, and without demur they took +me to the chief. + +Longuant was squatting before his lodge. A piece of wood was laid +across his lap, and he was chopping rank tobacco with a scalping knife. +He smelled of oil, and smoke, and half-cured hides; yet he met me as a +ruler meets an ambassador. As I stumbled after him into his dark +lodge, I saw that he was preparing to greet me with all the silence and +circumlocution of a state messenger. I had no time for that,--though +it gratified me. I tramped my way through all ceremony and plunged at +my point. + +"I am no envoy," I began, shaking my head in refusal of the proffered +seat upon the mat beside him. "I am only a voice. A bird that calls +'beware' from the branches, and then flits away. Why watch the old +wolf, and let the cub play free? Would you make yourself a +laughing-stock among your people, by letting the Englishman escape into +the Baron's hands? Pemaou, son of the Baron, stands with his followers +outside the Englishman's window. What does he seek? I am no Ottawa. +I am a free man, bound to no clan, and to no covenant, and friend to +the Ottawas and Hurons alike. But I do not like to see a wise man +tricked by a boy. I have spoken." + +Longuant rose. "My brother's voice speaks the truth," he said, +gathering his robes to leave me. "My brother sent his words, even as +he flung his spear at Pemaou, straight at the mark. Only one word goes +astray. My brother is not the free man he vaunts himself. He is tied +by hate;" and pushing out his lip till his huge nose pendant stood at a +right angle, he went on his way to be my willing, but entirely +unhoodwinked agent. + +I went to my canoes, stumbling a little, for I was tired. It was dark +now, and the fires glowed brazenly, so that the Indians showed like +dancing silhouettes. The sky was cloudless, and to the east lay a band +of uncertain light that meant the rising moon. This was the time that +I had planned to use in action, and the knowledge that I was powerless +to accomplish anything myself made me so irritable that I could not +bear to speak even to Pierre and the men. I sent them to a distance, +and sat down on the sand so torn and frayed by anxiety that I was like +a sick man. + +And here, after long minutes, Singing Arrow found me. She came running +down the beach, slipping on the rolling pebbles, and careless either of +her grace, or of the noise she made. + +"And you sit here doing nothing!" she cried, quite as a white girl +might have done. + +I pushed her down on the sand. "Stop!" I said. "I knew you would seek +me here. Now answer briefly. Pemaou and his men would not let you get +near the window?" + +"No." + +"They had seen you with me," I explained. "I feared it. Did Longuant +and his men come?" + +"Like bees," she answered, with a fling of her arms. "They are +everywhere. We can do nothing;" and she dropped her head in her arms +and cried. + +Now what indeed could be her motive? "Never mind, Singing Arrow," I +said experimentally. "What is it to you, after all?" + +She wriggled her head to throw me a wrathful look. "I always win at a +game," she mumbled. + +She was as hard to read as a purring cat, but that did not matter. +"We've not lost yet," I said, as slowly and coolly as if I did not see +the disk of the moon looking at me. "I sent Longuant there. I was +sure that Pemaou would keep you away, and I am playing for time. So +long as the Ottawas and Hurons are squabbling with one another, +Cadillac will not deliver the prisoner. But we must get them farther +away. Singing Arrow, I have brandy in my cargo. I have drawn off two +large flasks. Could you carry them to the other end of the camp, and +send word among the braves?" + +Now this was a contemptible thing to suggest; but any one who stoops, +as I was letting myself do, to use a cat's-paw to work out his ends +will surely soil his fingers. The sword is the clean weapon. I felt +that even this Indian would look at me with disdain, but she did not. +She thought a moment, then wagged her head in assent. + +"But I promised Father Carheil not to drink any brandy myself," she +added defiantly, as if she feared I might protest, and I felt myself as +low as the hound that I had kicked that day because it would have +stolen a child's sagamite. + +"Make haste!" I cried, in a fury with myself, and with the speeding +time. "Tell the prisoner to saunter away from the door, to pass the +largest fire, and then to go straight through the old maize field +toward the timber. I will be waiting there." + +"I can do it," she vaunted, and she gathered the brandy under her +blanket, and ran like a quail, while I went to my red-topped giant. + +"Pierre Boudin," I cried, with my hand on his collar, "if we get back +to this place alive, you are to marry that Ottawa girl; to marry her +fairly with priest and book. Remember that." + +My man turned a complacent eye. "If the master wishes," he said +dutifully. Then he gave a fat chuckle. "I promised to marry her when +we came back if she would save the Englishman,--but then I thought that +we should go home the other way." + +Why try to teach decency to a barnyard brood! I dusted my fingers free +from the soil of him. "I will marry her to you, if only to see her +flout you," I promised vengefully. "Now to the canoes, and have your +paddles ready." I had no smile for him, though he sought it, as I +walked away. + +The moon had swung free of the horizon, and cabins and trees stood out +as if made of white cardboard. The night was chilly, and as I crept +along the edge of the maize field, I caught my numbed toes on the +stiffened clods of earth turned up by last year's plowing. Yet I moved +silently, and by keeping in the shadow of blackened stumps and withered +maize stalks, I reached bow-shot of the commandant's door. + +Truly one part of my plan had succeeded. The house was the centre of +an ant-like swarm skurrying here and there, apparently without method, +but with a jerkiness of movement that suggested attack and recoil. I +could distinguish the nose pendants of the Ottawas and the bristling +crests of the Hurons. It was a crew with choice potentialities for +mischief. Cadillac was justified in feeling that his scalp sat but +unsteadily upon his head. + +I had given Singing Arrow fifteen minutes to hide her brandy and send +word to the braves, and I counted off the time to myself, trying to +numb my anxiety. But among savages news runs underground as well as +over, and I had scarcely covered half the space that I had set for +myself before the crowd began to disappear. It slipped away like water +between the fingers, and in a moment there remained only the guards, +Pemaou, and a few Ottawas. The guards, relieved from immediate anxiety +of a riot, leaned listlessly on their muskets, the Ottawas would not +interfere with a girl of their own tribe, and Pemaou could not watch +all quarters at once. Now was certainly the time to act; but where was +Singing Arrow? My inaction pressed on me like a hideous weight. It +seemed days instead of hours that I had sat like a crone by her distaff +and let others do my work--or fail to do it. Why was Singing Arrow so +slow to come? + +I thought that I had not shifted my gaze from the house for more than +an instant; but now, as I watched the door, I learned, and not for the +first time, that a white man should have a score of eyes instead of two +when it comes to watching an Indian. For the commandant's door +suddenly opened, and out came a blanket-draped, skin-clad figure. My +muscles stiffened. It was the Englishman. Singing Arrow had brought +him the clothing, and I had not seen. + +So the moment had come. I gripped my sword as one turns instinctively +to the friend loved best. Would the prisoner act his part? So keen +was my anxiety, that I felt my spirit leap out to stand by his side, +and I shut my teeth upon the cry of encouragement that welled within me. + +But he needed no help of mine. He made his way leisurely past the +great fire, walking with wonderful mimicry of a woman's gait, and he +kept his face well in the shelter of the blanket in a way that +suggested coquetry rather than disguise. + +And in this manner he came straight to me. He came, unerringly as a +sleep-walker, past fires, past Indians, and through the gaunt rows of +maize. He looked neither to right nor left, and no one molested him. +He came to where I stood silent, and put out his hand to touch mine. + +"It is done," he said quietly. + +His fingers were warm, and his touch tingled. I marveled. "It is a +miracle," I said. + +He looked at me in question. "Your hand is very cold. Monsieur, +monsieur, did you fear for me so much?" + +I bowed. "Yes. I did not think it could be done. You are an able +man, monsieur." + +He did not answer for a moment, and he followed me silently along the +edge of the maize field. Then he touched my shoulder. + +"Monsieur, how strange the world looks to-night. The moon,--have you +ever seen it so remote and chill? Oh, we are puppets! No, it was not +my wit that carried me through. It was Fate. Life has been hard on +me. She is saving me now for some further trick she has to play. I +pray that it may not bring you ill, monsieur." + +I knew not how to answer, for I was moved. As he said, the moon made +the world strange. Great beauty is disturbing, and the night was like +enchantment. He had come to me like a dream spirit in his woman's +dress. I felt the need of a dash of cold water on my spirit. + +"You must not put on woman's fancies with your petticoats, monsieur," I +cautioned over my shoulder. "Now we had best not talk till we are safe +afloat in the canoes." + +The men were ebon, the canoes vague gray, and the water like sheet ice +under the moon. The Englishman and I crept across the pebbles with +panther feet, and the splash of a frightened otter was the only sound. +I laid my finger on my lips, and my men checked their breathing. We +were silent as figures in a mirror. I tapped the Englishman on the +shoulder, and motioned where he should sit in the canoe. + +And then, from the timber fringe behind us, came a call. "Singing +Arrow! Singing Arrow! Stop! Stop!" + +Sword unsheathed, I dashed across the open space of moonlight toward +the trees. Who called, or why, I did not question. But I must smother +the noise. "Singing Arrow!" the call came again, and the roar of it in +the quiet night made my flesh crawl. + +I had not taken two strides into the timber when I saw a man running +toward me. He was still calling. I leaped upon him, winding an arm +about his neck, and covering his mouth. He was a small armful; a +weazened body to have sheltered so great a power of lung. + +"Hush! For the Virgin's sake, hush!" I stormed in noisy whispers. +"Father Carheil, is it you? Hush! Hush!" I dropped my hand from his +mouth. "Now speak in whispers," I implored. + +The father shook his cassock free from my fingers. My embrace had been +fervid, and his cassock was rumpled, and his scant hair was stringing +wildly from under his skullcap. But shrunken and tumbled as he was, he +was impressive. With some men, if you disarrange their outer habit, +you lower their inner dignity as well. It was not so with Father +Carheil. + +He looked at me closely, with a sober gentleness that became him well, +and that he did not often use. "Why should I go quietly?" he asked. +"My errand is righteous. It is only black work that needs the cover of +a silent tongue. My son, you are letting your men abduct Singing +Arrow. Did your promise to me count for so little in your mind?" + +I bowed, and mumbled something meaningless to gain time. I was not +clear as to my course. "Why do you think that we have Singing Arrow?" +I blurted out finally. + +"Pemaou told me." + +Pemaou again! But we had tricked him. I grinned with joy to think of +him with his nose still rooted close to the deserted hole. I could +almost forgive him for the trouble he was causing now. + +"Pemaou lied," I said cheerfully. "Singing Arrow is not with us, +Father Carheil. Will you go back now? My mission is urgent and +demands secrecy." + +He looked at the ground. "You swear to this? You swear that Singing +Arrow is not with you?" + +I laid my hand on my sword, and bared my head. "I swear." + +He turned away. "You seem a gentleman," he said reluctantly. "I +regret that I troubled you. I wish you fair winds, monsieur." + +Beshrew me, but the man could get close to my heart. "Thank you, +father," I cried earnestly. "I wish that I might requite your trust +with greater candor. But, in the end, I hope to justify my means. I +would that I might have your blessing on my mission and my cargo." + +Blockhead that I was, not to have let well enough alone. For I was to +blame for what followed. I may have grown unconsciously rhetorical, +and waved my hand in the direction of the canoes. I do not know. I do +know that at the word "cargo" Father Carheil turned and looked toward +the shore. There, in my canoe, with gaze searching the timber where I +had disappeared, stood a figure,--a woman's figure in Singing Arrow's +dress and blanket. + +Father Carheil looked at me. He did not speak; it was not necessary. +I endured his gaze for a moment, then sold my prudence to save my +honor. I laid my finger on the priest's arm. + +"Come with me to the canoes," I demanded. "If you find yourself in the +wrong, it may teach you to trust a man's word against your own +eyesight." + +He assented. We walked swiftly across the moon-lighted open, and I had +scant time for fear. Yet I was afraid. I could give the Englishman no +helping hand, no word of warning. Would he rise to the moment? + +He did. He turned his back upon us, Indian-fashion, and squatted in +his blanket. He lost all suggestion of Singing Arrow's slim +elasticity, and sat in a shapeless huddle. I laughed with relief. + +"Where is Singing Arrow now?" I twitted the priest. "Is this she?" + +The old priest peered. "No," he meditated. "No, this is not Singing +Arrow." He wheeled on me with one of his flashes of temper. "I cannot +recognize this girl. Let her take off her blanket." + +I motioned my men to take stations in the canoes. "Father Carheil, I +beg you to let me go at once," I implored. "You see you were wrong. +As to this Indian, you never saw her; she is a stranger here." + +But the father was not pacified. "Let her take off her blanket," he +repeated, with all the aimless persistency of age. + +Did I say that the man had grown close to my heart? Why, I could have +shaken him. But the Englishman cut the knot. He turned with a hunch +of the shoulder, and peered at us over the corner of his blanket. +Gesture, and roll of the head, he was an Indian. I was so pleased at +the mimicry, that I gave way to witless laughter. + +"Now!" I cried triumphantly. "Now, are you satisfied?" + +But the priest did not reply. He stared, and his eyes grew +ferret-sharp. Then he shifted his position, and stared again. It beat +into my brain that he had lived thirty years among the Indians, and +that his eyes were trained. He could see meanings, where I saw a blank +wall. + +"This is no Indian woman," he said slowly, with a wagging forefinger +that beat off his words like the minute hand of Fate. "This is--this +is--why, this is the English prisoner!" + +He brought out the last words in a crescendo, and again my hand clapped +tight against his mouth. + +"Be still! Be still!" I spluttered wildly, and I threw a disordered +glance at the horizon, and at my astonished crew. I had not meant that +the men, except Pierre, should be taken into the secret until we were +well afloat. Here was another contretemps. + +"Are you mad, Father Carheil!" I began, with a sorry show of dignity, +while my palm stuck like a leech against his lips. "This is not"---- + +"Not any one but the prisoner himself," interrupted the Englishman's +voice. He dropped his blanket, and sprang to the sand. "Do not lie +for me, monsieur," he went on in his indolent, drawling French that +already had come to have a pleasant quaintness in my ears. "Monsieur, +let me speak to the father." + +If Nature had given me a third hand, I should have used it to throttle +the Englishman. "Get back in the canoe!" I stormed. + +He motioned me away. Standing slim and tall in Singing Arrow's dress, +he put me--such creatures of outward seeming are we--absurdly in the +wrong, as if I had been rude to a woman. + +"Father Carheil," he began, "your ears at least are not fettered. +Listen, if you will. This man is not to blame. I was thrown in his +way, and he took me from pity, to save my life. Now that I am +discovered, I will go back to prison with you. Let this man go west. +Whatever his business, it is pressing." + +With two mad men on my hands, I had to choose between them. I dropped +the priest, and gripped the Englishman. + +"If you go back, I go with you!" I raged in his ear. Then I turned to +Father Carheil. "Are you going to report this, father? It is as the +Englishman says. I take him as the only way to save him from torture. +May we go?" + +The father thought a moment. "No," he said. + +I gripped my sword. "You have seen torture, Father Carheil. Would you +hand this man over to it?" + +The father looked at me as if I were print for his reading. "I am +piecing facts together," he said, with unmoved slowness. "Singing +Arrow is in league with you, for the prisoner is wearing her clothes. +The Indians are wild with brandy, which, it is rumored, Singing Arrow +furnished. The brandy must have come from you. Is that so? Answer +me. Answer, in the name of the Holy Church. Is that so?" + +I bowed. "You are a logician," I said bitterly. "Father, I can hear +the tom-toms. It is a miracle that we have escaped undetected so long. +Our respite cannot last many minutes longer. May we go?" + +My tone seemed to reach him, and he wavered a moment. "Perhaps," he +began haltingly; then he backed several paces. "No!" he cried, all his +small wiry figure suddenly tense. "No! You are a dangerous man. You +carry brandy, and no one knows your errand. If I let you go, I may +save one man from torture,--which, after all, is but an open door to +the blessed after life,--but I shall be letting you carry brandy and +perdition on to scores of souls. No." And he opened his mouth to call +for help. + +But I was on him before his shout could frame itself to sound. I drew +my handkerchief, and tied it, bandage-firm, across his mouth. Then I +called to Pierre, and bidding him bring me thongs from our store in the +canoe, I proceeded to bind the priest firmly. He was slight as a woman +in my hands. I could feel the sharpness and brittleness of his old +bones through his wrinkled skin, and I was sick at myself. "I am +sorry. I am sorry. I am sorry," I heard myself repeating, explaining +to him, and to myself, and, mostly, to the God who judges us. I looked +at the wonderful mobile old face, with all its weakness, and all its +wonderful white goodness, and hated myself for laying hands of violence +on such a man. "I am sorry," I cried again. I looked at the spit of +land that separated us from the camp, and the light from the fires +glowed red above it. The din of dogs and men swelled high. Something +was happening. I glanced down at the priest, but turned away quickly, +for I had no stomach for what I had done. + +"They will find you soon," I said, with my throat tightening. "God +knows I'm sorry." + +Then I dashed to the canoes. "Quickly!" I cried, and I shoved the +Englishman down behind me, that I might not have to see even the glint +of his red blanket to anger me by thought of what I had sacrificed. + +In a moment, our paddles were dipping. I looked back at the +settlement. "It is done!" I cried under my breath, and I could not +forbid a moment of exultation. I glanced at the Englishman. + +But I met no exultation there. The man's strange eyes were still +grave. "No, monsieur, it is just begun," he corrected, and I thought, +as I saw his look at the retreating shore, that he shrunk from the +uncertainties ahead more than from the death behind. Was there a +coward streak in him, after all? I turned my back, and did not speak +again. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +PARTNERS + +To paddle by day, to work in sun and breeze, is a pastime, but to +paddle by night drains a man's endurance. For long hours our canoes +nosed their way around headland after headland and along wild shores +peopled by beasts and shadows. The black water was a threat and a +mystery, and the moonlight was chill, so that our limbs, which should +have bounded with red blood, were aching and leaden with the cold. I +stretched myself with relief when the red-streaked horizon told me it +was time to land and make camp. + +I was prepared for pursuit, but knew that, with Pierre in one canoe and +Labarthe in the other, we must be well in advance of it. Now I +purposed to stop and hide. It is more to my taste to be hound than +hare, and I do not like an enemy snapping at my heels. So I prepared +to land. Once the pursuing canoes had passed us we could take up the +chase on our own part and follow at leisure. + +I called the word to the other canoe, and then as we swung shoreward I +turned to look at the Englishman. All night I had heard no sound from +him, nor glanced his way. My thoughts of him had been bitter, for he +was a sore weight on my hands. Yet this I knew was unjust, and I was +shamed for my own bad temper. My surliness must have pricked him, as +he sat silent through the long hours of dark and cold; and now that the +approaching sun was putting me in a better humor, I could see that I +had been hard, and I determined to speak to him fairly. + +And so I turned, puckering my lips to a smile that did not come easily, +for my face was stiff and my spirit sore. But I might have spared my +pains. The prisoner was asleep. He lay in a chrysalis of red blanket, +his head tipped back on a bundle of sailcloth, his face to the stars. +He was submerged in the deep slumber where the soul deserts the body +and travels unknown ways. Judged by his look of lax muscles and +surrender, he had lain that way for hours,--the hours when I had been +punishing him with my averted glance. + +I woke him with a hand on his shoulder. + +"You slept well," I accused. + +He shivered under my hand and opened his eyes. It took him an instant +to recognize me, but when he did he smiled with relief. I could not +but see that there was something pleasant in his smile. I saw, too, +that sleep had wiped the lines from his face, and given him a touch of +color. + +"Did I sleep? Did I really sleep?" he marveled. "Monsieur, you are +very good to me." + +But I was in no holiday humor, so only shrugged, and told him to unload +the bales. He smiled again, nodding, and jumped to the shore with +buoyancy that was an affront to our numbed muscles. But once at work +he was as useless as a sailor in a hayfield. He could lift nothing, +and he was hopelessly under foot. I bade him stand aside, and I prayed +for patience. After all he was young, and had been through great +hardship. I would spare him what I could for a time. + +It is depressing to work in a cold dawn on an empty stomach. Our +landing had been made at the mouth of a rivulet, and we followed it +till we found a place, some quarter mile inland, that was open enough +for a camp. Here bale by bale we brought the cargo, piling it under +trees and covering it with sailcloth. The canoes we put bottom up in +the open, that the sun might dry them. I left Pierre hidden at the +shore to watch the horizon for our pursuers, and the rest of us +proceeded to breakfast. + +It was cheerless. When I say we made a camp it is misleading, for we +could not swing our kettles for fear of the betraying smoke. We sat +down stiffly, for the ground was still wet from the night dew, and we +passed our bags of dried maize and jerked meat from hand to hand. I +made some ado to eat cheerfully, for I saw that the men were surly from +this unnecessary hardship. The western Indians were friendly, and if +we had not had this incubus of an Englishman on our hands we should +have had fire and song, a boiling pot, and roasting maize cakes. There +was no muttering among the men, for I was there, but they looked +glowering, and drew away. + +The Englishman ate in silence. I was too ruffled and crossgrained to +talk to him, but I could not keep myself from watching him. His eyes +were less sad than I had thought. I could imagine that they might +easily be merry. But they were watchful eyes. He saw the discontent +among the men, and finally he rose and went to them. I followed him +with some warning in my look, for I thought that he was vexed, and I +knew that his tongue was sharp, but I realized in a moment that his +brain was in control and that he was safe. + +"I have brought you all discomfort," he said, with a shake of the head, +and his slow French gave his words more meaning than they perhaps +deserved. "I regret this. It is hard for me to bear, for it is new to +me to be a burden. But what can I do? I cannot go away. I am not +enamored of this voyage, for I do not like being thrust upon your +company, but you saved my life, and I have no right to throw away what +you went to such lengths to preserve. What would you have me do?" + +The oafs exchanged glances. They spoke after a minute in a united, +disjointed grumble. + +"You don't work." + +The Englishman looked at them and at me. I realized that he was +curiously slight and young, and that we seemed hostile. That was +hardly just, and I was ready to go to his rescue. But he turned from +me to the men. + +"It is true that I work very badly," he said. "I do not know how. But +men are born of women, and--well, what a man can do I can learn. +Suppose, now, that I go and relieve Pierre at the watch. If you will +show me what to do I think you will find me teachable. I shall try to +be as little of a burden as possible. Here is my hand on it." And he +held out his slim palm for their grasp. + +Again they stared; but the hand won them. They touched it fumblingly +and were impressed. They were a slow lot, selected for various +purposes other than wit. Their minds moved too sluggishly for swift +reactions, and I dismissed anxiety about them from my mind. + +The Englishman turned to me. "Will you conduct me to the shore? I +will take Pierre's place." + +It was my turn to stare. "Suppose you conduct yourself," was on my +tongue, but I let it escape unsaid. "Come, then," I answered, with a +shrug. + +I led the way over logs and under bushes, and the Englishman followed +silently; silently at least as to his tongue, but his feet were +garrulous. They stepped on twigs, stumbled on slippery lichen, and +shouted their passage for rods around. + +"I would rather lead a buffalo in tether," I fretted, and just as I +said it he completed the sum of his blundering by catching his toe in a +root and plunging head foremost to the ground. I pulled him up by the +sleeve of his skin blouse and shook him free from loam and twigs. + +"Now will you stop that?" I cried. + +He looked at me gravely, unabashed, but curious. "I did not fall +purposely to irritate you. Gravity, which, I understand, operates +alike on the learned and the foolish, had some share in it. Why are +you angry?" + +"Why are you reckless? You have crashed through here as careless of +noise as a stag with the hounds hot behind." + +He dropped to the ground, and took one slim moccasined foot in his +hand. He looked at it soberly. "It seems a small thing, does it not, +to cause so much ill-will between us? It has neither weight nor mental +force above it, that it should make the earth tremble. No, monsieur, +you are searching for excuses for your annoyance with me. You are +annoyed all the time. I vex you by my silence, still more by my +speech. We are to be some time together, and I do not want to be a +constant canker. Is it not possible for you to forget me, to ignore +me?" + +I saw he was in earnest. "And so you really do not know what irritated +me? Are you so little of a woodsman?" + +"I have never traveled through the woods." + +I gave him a dubious glance. "Yet you were weeks with the Hurons after +your capture." + +I saw him set his teeth hard as if at a memory. "We traveled by water +ways. I was little on the shore except at night." + +A sudden picture sickened me. The nightly camp and this slender lad +with his curious air of daintiness, and the great oily Hurons lounging +in the dirt and smoke. + +"Were they cruel to you?" I broke out. + +He shook his head. "No," he said, with the air of justice I had liked +in him heretofore; "no, they were not cruel. Indeed they were almost +kind, in that they left me a great deal alone. I feared from the +clemency they showed me that they were reserving me for torture." + +I eyed him with some skepticism. "It was not the Hurons, but their +rivals, the Ottawas, who would have sent you to the stake," I explained +curtly. "The Hurons--those of the Baron's band--would have held you as +a hostage,--perhaps as a deputy." + +He looked up with interested eyes. "You are playing some political +game, and these tribes are your counters. I should like to understand." + +I examined his look, but could make nothing of it. "You will pardon +me, monsieur," I said with a shrug, "but these are troublous times, and +I find it hard to believe you as ignorant as you seem." + +He still met my look. "And if I were not ignorant?" he asked. "Could +I, one Englishman, alone and unarmed, accomplish anything that would +hurt you? You see that I am harmless. Why not be friends?" + +I shrugged my shoulders. + +"So you are determined that I am a secret ambassador," he meditated. +"Well, I must act my part with dignity. And you think we cannot be +comrades? I dislike to irritate you as I do." + +I answered him soberly. "We will be partners," I agreed; "friends for +the night's bivouac, willing to help and to share." + +"But you will not trust me?" + +I looked away. "What would a truce between us mean? You are English, +I, French. Be assured that sooner or later the fox eats the hen." + +He laughed. "Who is to be the fox?" He jumped to his feet. +"Partners, then, it shall be. A strange creed. A helping hand to-day +and a knife in the back to-morrow. But I shall follow you, monsieur." + +"You will follow?" + +"In this path as in others. If you refuse to admit even a truce +between us, I agree. I shall keep out of your way as much as possible. +Only--I would not have you think me ungrateful." + +I could never forbear a smile when he was serious. "We shall probably +think very little about each other," I said comfortably. "Once settled +into routine we shall have work to fill our thought. You will learn to +do your share. I think you willing." + +"Indeed I am willing, monsieur." + +"Good. So we shall work hard, sleep early, and the months will pass +before we know. Let us not talk of trust or friendship, since our ways +are divided." + +He bowed. "You are right, monsieur. And I meant only this,--I will +try not to be an irritation. You will try not to think of me as such. +You agree?" + +I smiled again. "Yes. Partners for the night," I reminded him. "I am +gratified, Monsieur Starling, that you see the matter so reasonably. +There is a gulf between us, and we cannot change it." We did not speak +again till we reached Pierre at the shore. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +WESTWARD + +Where were the pursuing Indians? For two days we watched, and the +water was unflecked by sign of life. We listened in the murk of night +and strained our eyes in the sun's dazzle. But we found nothing but +forest and sky and mystery. We were alone with our shadows. + +The forty-eight hours crawled. Except at noonday we were chilled, our +stomachs complained of the cold food, and our minds, and therefore our +bodies, were sluggish. The Englishman had the best of it, for he could +sleep like a bear in winter. Save for the hours when he was on watch +he knew but little of what was passing. He lay on the warm side of the +bank and slept with his face to the sun. + +At the end of two days I felt that I had paid all reasonable due to +Prudence, and could follow Inclination and be comfortable. + +"We shall push on at daybreak to-morrow," I told the men. "Hang the +kettles. To-night we shall have a boiling pot." + +Truly a fire makes home of a wilderness. We sat with our heels to the +blaze, and grew jovial. The Englishman said little, but was alert to +serve us. + +"It is salt to the broth to have it given me by a pretty squaw," I told +him as he filled my bowl a second time. + +He flushed with anger, and I thought myself that it was a cheap jest +and unworthy. He had been considerate to wear his disguise without +complaint. + +"I shall find something for you to wear when we shift our cargo to +leave," I promised him, and since my mood was still mellow, I looked +him over with a smile. He had smoothed and rounded in a wonderful +manner in his two days of rest, and I was pleased by the red in his +cheeks. "You will soon be a second Pierre if you sleep and eat in this +fashion," I laughed at him, "and then there will be no room for you in +the canoe. If all your countrymen sleep as you do, it is small wonder +that they have left us undisturbed in the beaver lands." + +He smiled a little in deference to my small jest, but the next instant +he looked away. "I had not slept in weeks," he said softly, as if +ashamed of his excuse. + +That shamed me, and I came to my feet and let my bowl of broth spill +where it would. + +"Sleep well, lad. You are safe with us," I cried, and I left my meal +unfinished, and went to the hidden cargo. Then and there I would find +proper clothing for the Englishman. I had been slothful in the matter. + +The clothing was stored deep, and I was bending to the search with some +shortness of breath, when the Englishman touched my shoulder. + +"Is it clothing for me?" + +I handed him a blanket coat for answer. "It is large, but warm," I +said, and bent again to my task. + +Still he kept a hand on my shoulder. "Monsieur, I am satisfied with my +dress." + +I could be putty in his hands one moment and scorn him the next. +"Nonsense!" I snapped over my shoulder. + +But he clung like a gnat. "It is not nonsense. Stop a moment and +listen to my reasons." + +I drew myself up reluctantly. "Well?" + +He stood with arms akimbo, his head to one side. "It is as plain as a +pikestaff. In this dress I can go where you cannot. I can reconnoitre +for you. In your man's coat I should be grotesque, for it is twice my +size. I should be noticeable and draw comment on us. As it is, I can +go unobserved." + +Now this was partly true. "But the presence of a woman would discredit +our canoes," I objected. + +He turned this over. "A woman would discredit your party?" + +"Of course." + +"But no one sees you but the Indians." + +"They report to the priests." + +"And you care what the priests think?" + +"I care for the good name of my company. Monsieur, do you like to wear +a squaw's dress?" + +He laughed. "Why not? I like women. Why scorn their garb? But I see +your reasons, monsieur. They are better than mine. So get out the +clothing,--though I shall look like an eel in a bear's skin." + +But I had lost my haste. Mock woman that he was, he was yet somewhat +pleasant to the eye. I had noticed more than once the picture that he +made as he came and went among the trees. Yet I thought lightly of +myself for enjoying the deceit of my eyesight. I rose. + +"Wear your skirts, then, for a few days longer," I said coldly. "It is +too dark to find what I want. Come now. We must sleep early, and be +up betimes, for we shall take up our journey in the morning." + +We were astir at daybreak. It was a red morning, and the birds were +singing. The air was keen, but the fire snapped cheerfully, and the +sky gave promise of a warm day. We carried the bales to the beach, and +were ready for the canoes. Then I missed the Englishman. He had been +aloof and moody during breakfast, and I searched for him with some +alarm. + +I found him in the hollow where he slept at night; he would not sleep +near the rest of us, saying that we disturbed him with our snoring. He +was on his back, his gaze on the tree-tops, and he was frowning heavily. + +I broke through the bushes. "You are ill!" + +He jumped to his feet. "No, no, monsieur! Ill only in mind. +Monsieur, I have failed you." + +I had never seen his aplomb so shaken. "Why were you lying on the +ground?" + +"To find out whether I could see again what I saw last night. Do you +see that balsam,--the one with the forked top? Monsieur, I saw an +Indian's face in that tree last night." + +I took his hands, which were cold. "Now tell me." + +He drew his hands away. "I am often awake in the night. Last night +the moon was clear. All at once I saw an Indian's face looking out +from that tree." + +"And you did not call me!" + +"Monsieur, I thought it must be fancy. I have troubled dreams. I +often--since my capture--think I see an Indian, and it proves to be +nothing but a bush. So I distrust my eyes, especially at night. Then +Francois was on watch, and several times he walked this way. If it had +really been an Indian would not Francois have seen?" + +I pointed him to the forest. "Do you see anything? We seem alone, yet +there are countless eyes watching us, from the squirrel over your head +to the Indian who may be listening now. When you lay on your back just +now did you see anything that looked like a face?" + +He shook his head. "No, the space was open. But, monsieur, I have +been over the ground. I can find no track." + +I went to the balsam and examined it. Then I called the Englishman and +pointed to a patch of rubbed lichen on the bark above our heads. "His +foot slipped. What was he like? How was his hair dressed?" + +He gasped a little. "Monsieur, it could not have been a real Indian. +The rubbed moss,--why, an animal could have done that. As to his +appearance, it was strange. His head was shaved on one side, and he +had long braided hair on the other. Surely it was a dream." + +I laughed. "Come, Starling, the canoes are waiting." + +"Monsieur, did you ever see an Indian shaved in that way?" + +I nodded. "Many times." + +"Monsieur, monsieur! What kind of Indians?" + +"It is a Huron mode." + +"Then we have been followed?" + +I shrugged. "Evidently. I do not understand their game, but they will +declare it soon enough. Come, Starling." + +But he lingered. "Monsieur, I blundered. I should have waked you." + +I stopped to lay a hand on his shoulder. "And you will blunder again +if you waste strength in regrets. Come, a hangdog look means a divided +mind, and I need your wits. Keep what watch you can, and we shall say +nothing of this." + +The men had carried the canoes to the beach, and now sat beside them, +drumming their heels in idleness. This gave me excuse for rating them, +and I did it with force of lung. Thinking that there were Indians--or, +at least, an Indian--in hiding, I hoped to draw them from cover in this +fashion. But my brave periods rattled uselessly. The forest kept its +springtime peace, and all that I got out of my display of spirit was +the excitement of playing my part well to an unseen audience. We were +allowed to load our canoes in peace. + +And more, we were allowed to depart. I was prepared for a flight of +arrows as a parting courtesy, but none came. Well, I could make +nothing of the situation. I stored the incident away as something to +remember, but not to distress myself about. The men sang as they +dipped their blades. I sang, too, when I could get the tune. It was a +fine morning, and my blood was astir. I saw the Englishman's color +rise under the whip of the quick motion and the keen air. He did not +speak unless I addressed him, but his look was almost happy. I could +not help liking it in him that he should enjoy the freedom of our +journeying, and should feel the majesty of the untraveled waters. I +saw that he was trying, as he promised, not to intrude upon my notice, +and I wondered a little what he would be saying to me now if I had +answered him otherwise, and had said that we could be friends. Perhaps +I had cut myself off from pleasant intercourse. He certainly had +gayety of spirit, even if he somewhat lacked in strength of head. + +We paddled only till mid-afternoon. I was as eager to meet the western +Indians as I had been anxious to avoid those we left behind, and now my +object was to invite attention. It was the season for beaver and otter +trapping, and I hoped to encounter hunting parties, so we landed, made +camp in the open, and piled our fire till the smoke blurred the sky. + +The spirit of the afternoon was toward idleness. We fished some, but +loitered more, and I had no word of reproof for the men for using hours +of good daylight playing the dish game they had learned among the +Ottawas. I heard them stake their patrimony in this world, and their +hopes of the next, on the throw of the black and yellow balls, but I +smoked my pipe, and let them brag and squabble. The bees were droning, +the sun lay warm on my back, and the forest was at peace. Two years +before, I remembered, I had worn lace and periwig on this day, and had +stood in his majesty's antechamber. Now I was gaunt and rusty as a +bear in spring. I looked at the secret forest, the uncharted water, +and at my smoke-grimed men squatting like monkeys over a savage game, +and I smote my knee with content. Truly it was a satisfying thing to +live while the world afforded such contrasts! And if I played my +present cards with skill, there might be a still greater contrast in +store for me when next I stood in that ante-chamber and heard my name +carried within. But that thought made me restless, and I went in +search of the Englishman. + +The Englishman had sat apart from us since we landed, and now I found +him with his back against a rock ledge looking at the water. I was in +a mood when I had to wag my tongue to some one and ease myself of some +spreading fancies. So I dropped down beside him. + +"Monsieur," I began by way of introduction to my theme, "are you indeed +a yeoman?" + +He looked up with an excess of solemnity. "No, monsieur." + +This was not the answer I had expected,--though, in truth, I had given +the matter little thought. "Then you are a gentleman?" I asked, +deflected from my intended speech. + +He shook his head. "No, monsieur, no gentleman." + +I did not like his hidden play with words, although I understood it. +"That is a farce!" I said unkindly. "It is folly to say that in your +Colonies you will have no caste. You cannot change nature. Can you +make a camel of a marmoset? I asked you what you were born?" + +He smiled. "I was born an English subject. Monsieur, I have answered +three questions. You owe me three in turn. Did you ever know Robert +Cavelier?" + +I stared. "The Seigneur de la Salle?" + +"The same." + +I stared again. "He has been dead for eight years. What do you, an +Englishman, know of him?" + +He gave a wave of the hand. "It was my question," he reminded. "I +asked if you knew him." + +I could not but be amused. How he liked to play at mystery! I would +copy his brevity. "Yes," I replied. + +He looked up with much interest. "So you knew him. Tell me, monsieur, +was he mountebank and freebooter, or a gallant gentleman much maligned?" + +I removed my hat. "He was neither. He was an ambition incarnate; an +ambition so vast there were few to understand it, for it had no +personal side. You said the other night that but few motives rule men. +La Salle has been misunderstood because the usual motives--greed, the +love of woman, and the desire for fame--did not touch him. He was the +slave of one great idea, and so he was lonely and men feared him." I +finished with some defiance. I knew that the blood had risen in my +cheeks as I spoke, for some subjects touch me as if I were a woman. +The Englishman was watching me, and I disliked to have him see what I +felt was weakness. But he did not scoff. His own cheeks flushed +somewhat, and he looked off at the water. + +"La Salle had more than a great idea," he said meditatively. "He had +great opportunity. He desired to found an empire in the west, did he +not, monsieur? Well, he failed, but, perhaps, that was accident. He +might have succeeded. It is not often in the history of the world that +such an opportunity comes to any person, man or woman. La Salle, at +least, tried to live up to his full stature. Monsieur, how pitiable it +would be, yes, more, how terrible it would be, to have such an +opportunity thrown in your way and know that you were too weak to seize +it." + +His voice rose to some earnestness, but I was ashamed of my own +emotion, and so threw pebbles at the water and kept my mood cold. I +suspected that through all this random philosophizing I was being +probed,--probed by an Englishman who ate my rations, and wore a squaw's +dress. I grew angry. + +"Who are you?" I demanded roughly. "Who are you, that you know of La +Salle and of his plans, and use the French speech. Can you, for once, +answer me fairly, or is there no sound core of honesty in you?" + +He rose. But he replied, not to what I had said, but to what I had +thought. "It is true that I share your food and your escort, and that +I requite you but poorly. Yet I must remind you again, I share it +under compulsion. I cannot be entirely open with you,--are you open +with me?--but I will tell you all that it is necessary for you to know, +all that touches you in any way. I said that I was a colonist. It was +the truth, but I had been but a year in the Colonies at the time of my +capture. I was born in England, and I have passed some time in France. +As to La Salle, I know nothing of him save what any man might hear. Is +it strange that I should be interested in him now that I find myself +following in his steps? Why do you always see a double meaning in my +words, monsieur?" + +I filled my pipe, and answered truthfully, "I do not know." + +But here he began to laugh. "Monsieur, forgive me, but truly I forget +at times that I am a spy, that you distrust me. You are kind and I am +interested, and so I grow careless of the fact that I am in a land +where no speech is idle, where every glance is weighed. This life must +unfit one for court talk, monsieur." + +What was he after? I eyed him over my pipe bowl, but said nothing. I +was minded to tell him to clean the whitefish for our supper, but +reflected in time that he would undoubtedly do it badly, so I spoke to +Francois instead. But when I would have gone away the Englishman +followed. He clapped me lightly on the shoulder, a familiarity he had +not ventured before, and he put his head on one side with a little +bantam swagger. + +"If I am an enemy, I am an enemy," he bowed. "Yet one question, +please, and I swear in the name of our joint father Noah that I ask it +with the fairest motives in mind. Tell me something of what we are +going to do. Is today a sample?" + +I could not hold my ill-temper. He must have led a psalm-singing youth +that every attempt at rakishness should make him as piquant as a figure +at a masque. + +"Yes," I replied. "To-day is a sample except that we have been +indolent this afternoon. I made this a semi-holiday as a sop to the +men for the added burden I have laid on them. I wish to do some +exploring along the coast here, and we shall have to spend some time +hunting. If you show yourself capable I shall leave you in charge of +the camp while we are away." + +This time he bowed gravely. "Thank you, monsieur. I have not been +blind to the way you have spared me hardship, but when I said that I +would do whatever you would teach me, I meant it. I think that I shall +make a good woodsman in time." + +But I laughed. "You wash yourself too much ever to make a good +woodsman," I told him, and I set him to measuring the meal for our +supper, for indeed his hands were well kept, and it was pleasant to see +him handle the food. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +I WAKE A SLEEPER + +What enchantment came upon the weather for the next week I do not know. +May is often somewhat sour of visage, but now she smiled from dawn till +starlight. We paddled and hunted and slept, well fed and fire-warmed. +It was more like junketing than business, and we were as amiable as +fat-bellied puppies. Even the Englishman looked content. We left him +in camp when we went to hunt, and on our return he had a boiling pot +and hot coals ready for our venison. I saw that he had won favor with +the men. Yet he kept aloof from all of us, as he had promised. + +This had gone on for a week, when one day, after we had placed the +Englishman on guard and were tramping back into the timber to see what +our eyes and muskets could find, Pierre pointed to a bent tree. "It +looks like a cow's back," he ruminated. "Trees are queer. Today, +where we made camp, I saw a tree that looked like a Huron with his +topknot." + +I stopped. "Where?" + +"I told the master. Near the camp." + +"You think it was a tree?" + +Pierre shuffled. "There are no Hurons here. This is the Pottawatamie +country. But I have thought about it all day. It was a queer tree. +Shall I go back and see?" + +I shook my head. I pointed to a stale bear print, and set the men upon +it. Then I turned and slipped back to camp. + +I walked with uneasiness in my throat. Why did a Huron dog us in this +fashion? Was he alone? Did he mean mischief to the Englishman? Was +the Englishman in league with him? Too many questions for a slow man. +I felt entrapped and befogged. I must see for myself. And so I crept +to the camp to spy upon it. + +I have never seen sweeter spot for an anchorage than we had found that +day. We had not camped on the open coast as had been our custom, but +in a sun-warmed meadow a few paces inland, where there were birds, and +tasseling grasses, and all kinds of glancing lights and odors to steal +into a man's blood. I parted the trees. The blur of gray ashes from +our fire was undisturbed; our canoes lay, bottom upwards, waiting to +have the seams newly pitched, and the cargo was piled, untouched, +against a tree. All was as we left it. And there, in the shade of a +maple, lay the Englishman, asleep on his scarlet blanket. + +I went softly, and looked down at him. I ought to have waked him, and +rated him for sleeping at his post, but I could not. It was balm to +find him here safe. He was twisted like a kitten with his head in his +arm, and I noticed that his dark hair, which he kept roughly cut, was +curly. He must have been wandering in the woods, for he had a bunch of +pink blossoms, very waxy and odorous, shut tight in his hand. I looked +at him till I suddenly wanted him to wake and look at me. I picked a +grass stalk, and, leaning over, brushed it against his lips. + +He woke as a child does, not alert at once, but with drowsy stirrings, +and finally with open eyes so sleep-filled that they were as +expressionless as a fawn's. He stared as if trying to remember who I +was. + +I sat beside him. "I am the owner of that cargo you are guarding," I +supplied to aid his memory, and then laughed to see the red flood his +face when he came to himself and realized what he had done. But I was +not at ease. He had shivered and drawn back when he first opened his +eyes. Could he be afraid of me? I should not wish that. I tried to +be crafty. + +"Who did you think I was when you first woke?" I asked, taking my pipe +and preparing to be comfortable. + +He pushed back his hair. "Benjamin," he answered vaguely. He was +still half asleep. + +"But you told me your name was Benjamin!" I put down my flint and +tinder. + +He met my look. "I have a cousin Benjamin, as well," he rejoined. "I +was dreaming of him. Monsieur, I am humiliated to think that I went to +sleep. I have never done so before." + +My pipe drew well, and I did not feel like chiding. "It does not +matter," I said, with a yawn. "You must not take it amiss, monsieur, +if I confess that, as a guard, I have never considered you much more +seriously than I would that brown thrush above you. What is your +posy?" and I leaned over and took the flowers from his hand. + +He smiled at me drowsily. "The arbutus," he explained, with a +lingering touch of his finger upon the blossoms. "Smell them, +monsieur. I found them in Connecticut last spring. Are they not well +suited to be the first flowers of this wild land? Repellent +without,--see how rough the leaves are to your finger,--but fragrant +and beautiful under its harsh coating. Life in the Colonies grew to +seem to me much the same." + +I turned the flowers over, and considered his philosophy. "You are +less cynical than your wont, monsieur." I reflected. "May I say that I +like it better in you? Cynicism is a court exotic. It should not grow +under these pines." + +He put out his hand to brush a twig from my doublet. "Cynicism is +often the flower of bitterness. Monsieur, you have been very good to +me. I cannot keep in mind my constant bitterness against life when I +think of the thoughtfulness and justice you have shown me." + +I jerked away. "Sufficient! Sufficient! Let us be comfortable," I +expostulated, and I turned my back, and gave myself to my pipe and +silence. + +The birds sang softly as if wearied, and the earth was warm to the +hand. I held the flowers in my fingers, and they smelled, somehow, +like the roses on our terrace at home on moonlight evenings when I had +been young and thought myself in love. I watched a drift of white +butterflies hang over an opening red blossom. Such moments pay for +hours of famine. It disturbed me to have the Englishman rise and go +away. + +"Why do you go?" I demanded. + +He came back at once. "What can I do for you, monsieur?" + +His gentleness shamed my shortness of speech. "It was nothing," I +replied. "The truth is, it was pleasant to have you here beside me." +I laughed at my own folly. "Starling, I will put you in man's dress +to-morrow!" I cried. + +He turned away. "As you like, monsieur. I think myself it would be +best. Will you get out the clothes to-night?" + +But I stared at him. "Why blush about it, Starling?" I shrugged. I +felt some disdain of his sensitiveness. "I did not mean to twit you. +I understand that you have worn the squaw's dress to help us. But I +think that the necessity for disguise is past. I see the skirts +embarrass you." + +He turned to look at me fairly. "I am not blushing, monsieur," he +explained, with a great air of candor. "It is the heat of the +afternoon;" but even as he spoke the red flowed from chin to forehead, +and when I looked at him with another laugh, his eyes fell before mine. + +I rose on my elbow. "Starling! Starling!" I cried. He made no sound. +His head drooped, and I saw him clench his hand. I stared. He threw +his head back, but when he tried to meet my look he failed. Yet I +looked again. "My God!" I heard my voice say, and my teeth bit into my +lip. I could smell the flowers in my hand, but they seemed a long +distance away. "My God!" I cried again, and I rose and felt my way +into the woods with the step of a blind man. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +MARY STARLING + +I do not know how long I walked, nor where, but the sun dropped some +space. When I returned to the camp, I found the men before me. They +had returned early, empty-handed, and were in an ill humor because the +Englishman was away, and there was nothing done. I commanded Pierre to +build a larger fire than usual, and keep it piled high till I returned. +Then I began a search for footprints. + +They were easily found. The young grass crushed at a touch, and it was +child's work to pick out the moccasin track across the meadow. When +the steps reached the beach they were harder to follow. I lost them +for a while, though there were scattered pebbles that would have led me +straight as a homing pigeon, had I been cool enough in mind to have my +eyes and wits as sharp as usual. As it was, I doubled, and squandered +time, until the sun began to loom red near the horizon. And all the +time I was saying to myself, "It is not true. It is not true." + +The windings of the track puzzled me. It would go straight into the +forest for a space, then double sharply, and come back to the beach. +It came to me at last that the wish to hide pulled the steps into the +timber, and that the fear and solitude of the great woods speedily +drove them out again. Then I determined to pay no attention to these +detours, but push along the beach. And doing this, I speedily came +upon the red blanket flung down in the shelter of a rock, and its owner +resting upon it. + +When I saw that all was well, I became suddenly exhausted, and went +forward slowly. I reached the red blanket, and looked down. Yes, all +was well. A hunting knife lay in an open bundle. I stooped and seized +it, and hurled it far into the water, and then I asked, rather huskily, +a question that had not been in my mind at all:-- + +"What is your name?" + +"Mary Starling." The woman had risen, and stood with her hands pressed +tight against her throat; the look she gave me was the saddest I had +ever seen. "Monsieur, you wrong me. The knife that you threw away was +for my protection,--for my food." + +I stood over her. "You swear this?" I said, breathing hard. + +She held her head high. "Monsieur, I am a coward in many ways, but not +in this. Life is bitter, but I will live it as long as the Powers +please. I will take what comes. Even among the Indians I was not +tempted to--to that." + +"You would have died. Starved here in the wilderness, if I had not +found you." + +"Perhaps, monsieur. Yet I gave myself what chance I could. I took +some food, a fishing line, and that knife." + +"Why did you leave me?" + +"Monsieur!" + +"I say, why did you leave me?" + +"Monsieur, what else could I do? I would have discredited you. Those +were your words. 'A woman would discredit our canoes.'" + +"Yet you were--you were a woman all the time." + +"Not in your eyes, monsieur." + +I gripped her hand. "Did the Indians suspect?" + +"Never for a moment." + +"Yet when they captured you"-- + +"I was in man's dress. I--I was trying to defend the blockhouse. The +men had--had--had"-- + +I seized her in my arm, and made her drink from my brandy flask. In a +moment the color came back to her lips, and she drew away. + +"I have never done this before," she explained unsteadily. "Never +since my capture. I suppose it is because--because you know. And so I +cannot play the man. Monsieur, believe me. I would never have come +with you, never, if I had not felt sure of myself. Sure that I could +play my part, and that you would not know. I--I--tried, a little, to +make you understand there at the commandant's, and when I saw that you +were really blind I thought that I was safe. Believe me, monsieur." + +I handed her my flask. "Drink more," I commanded. I took the blanket +and wrapped it around her though the air was still warm. "You must not +let yourself have chills in this fashion if you would save your +strength. Madame, I believe nothing about you that is not brave and +admirable. Are you Madame Starling, and is Benjamin your husband that +you took his name to shield you, and even repeated the name in your +dreams?" + +She looked at me, and I felt rebuked for something that had been in my +tone. "I am unmarried," she said steadily. "Benjamin Starling is a +cousin. Monsieur, there is nothing left either of us but to let me go. +Oh, if I could live this day over and be more careful! How was it, how +was it that I let you know?" + +I walked away. A frightened mink ran across my feet, and I cursed at +it. Then I walked back. + +"You did not let me know," I said, and I stooped to pick up her bundle. +"I know nothing. I was always the blindest of men. Come, Monsieur +Starling, let us go back to camp." + +Again she put her hands to her throat. "You mean that?" + +I took the bundle in my arm. "It is the only way. Come, monsieur." + +"I cannot." + +"I think that you must." + +"And can we go on as before?" + +I shrugged my shoulders. "We can try. Come, Monsieur Starling, the +men are growling, for you should have made the fire. Remember, you +strayed into the woods and lost your way. Come, come, you must do your +part." + +She looked at me, and a sudden dry sob shook her. "Forgive me, +monsieur!" she cried. "Yes, I will come." She tried to square her +shoulders. "I must get my spirit back before I can meet the men in +camp. Why am I such a coward!" + +I dropped the bundle that I might take both her hands. "Mademoiselle," +I said, "look at me. We are puppets in this matter. You have been +thrown into my hands against my will and your own, and I swear to you +that I will deal with you as fairly as I have strength. But you must +play your part. So long as I treat you as a woman you will be a +coward. Therefore I must be harsh with you. You have great will and +can endure loneliness of soul. I must thrust you back upon yourself. +There must be no woman in the camp. Come, monsieur, let us not talk of +this longer. Are you ready?" And not waiting for assent, I led the +way back to camp without word or look; I even kept myself from putting +out a helping hand when I heard the steps behind me falter and almost +fall. + +As we came to the fire and met the men, I found myself fingering my +sword. But it was a useless motion. The oafs saw nothing amiss, +though to me the very air was shouting the secret. We had a fat +larder, broiled whitefish and bear-steak from the kill of the day +before, and the men were thinking much of their stomachs and not at all +of the Englishman, save when they turned their backs upon him to show +that he was out of favor. So we sat down to meat. We sat a long time, +while the twilight faded and the stars pricked out clear, and there was +little talk between us. I was sitting at meat with a woman, a woman of +my own class, and I dared not offer her even the courtesy that one may +show a serving maid. Well, I would take what each day might bring and +not look ahead. I would think nothing about this person, as man or +woman, but would fill my thought with the purpose that had brought me +to the beaver lands. I told the men to be early astir that we might +make a longer day of travel on the morrow. + +The morrow was gray. The wind was in the east, and the sunrise watery +and streaked with slate-colored bands. The water was clammy and +opaque, repellent to touch and sight. The way looked dreary, and the +woman carried her head high, as if in challenge to her courage. She +had risen early, and had gone through her trifling share in the +preparations, and though she had avoided me, I could see that she was +ready to play her part. + +We paddled on our knees that morning, for the waves were choppy. By +ten o'clock the bands of cloud had merged into a dun canopy, and by +noon a slow, cold rain was drizzling. I dreaded a halt, but the +necessity pressed. I selected a small cove, well tree-grown, and we +turned our canoes inland. + +Fortunately the rain, though persistent, had been gentle, and had not +penetrated far under the heavy foliaged pines. We selected a clump of +large trees, chopped the lower branches, and scraping away the surface +layer of moss and needles found dry ground. Here we piled the cargo in +two mounds, which we hooded with tarpaulins and with our overturned +canoes. Our provisions were snug enough; it was ourselves who were in +dreary estate. + +It rained all the afternoon, stopped for a half hour at sunset, when +the sky, for a few moments, showed streaks of red, then closed in for a +night's drizzle. I had built what shelter I could for the woman out of +boughs covered with sheets of paper birch and elm. I had made a +similar shelter for myself that I might not seem to discriminate too +much in favor of the Englishman, and had told the men to do the same. +But they were indolent, and stopped at chopping a few hemlock boughs, +which they laid across crotched aspens. In truth, our shelters +accomplished little against the cold and wet. Do what we could, we had +great discomfort, and morning found the rain still dripping and the sky +still unbroken gray. + +And so it went for three days. The north country has such storms in +the spring, and they chill all beauty out of the woods. We could do +nothing. We kept what fire we could, regummed the seams of the canoes, +and for the rest ate, sulked, and tried to sleep. The men gambled +among themselves, and I grew weary of the click, click of their balls +and the sound of their stupid boasts and low jesting. Yet I had no +ground for stopping them, for the woman understood almost nothing of +their uncouth speech. Indeed, she was little in sight or hearing. She +stayed in her bark shelter, and I could hear her moving about, trying +to keep it neat and herself in order. In those three days I learned +one secret of her spirit. She had a natural merriment that did not +seem a matter of will power nor even of wish. It was an instinctive, +inborn content, that was perhaps partly physical, in that it enabled +her to sleep well, and so to wake with zest and courage. By night her +eyes might be dark circled and her step slow, but each morning there +was interest in her looks to see what the strange day was about to +bring. I had seen this nature in men many times; I had not thought +that it belonged to women who are framed to follow rather than to look +ahead. + +For twenty-four hours we held little more intercourse than dumb people, +but the second day she came to me. + +"Monsieur, would you teach me?" she asked. "Would you explain to me +about the Indian dialects?" + +I agreed. I threw her a blanket, which she wrapped around her, and we +cowered close to the bole of a pine. I took birch bark and a crayon +and turned schoolmaster, explaining that the Huron and Iroquois nations +came of the same stock, but that most of the western tribes were +Algonquin in blood, and that, though they had tribal differences in +speech, Algonquin was the basic language, as Latin is the root of all +our tongues at home. I took the damp bark, and wrote some phrases of +Algonquin, showing her the syntax as well as I had been able to reduce +it to rule myself. She had a quick ear and the power of attention, but +after an hour of it I tore the bark in pieces. + +"We will not try this again," I told her roughly, and we scarcely met +or spoke for the next day. + +The fourth morning came without rain, and the sun struggled out. We +built great fires, dried our clothing, repacked the canoes, and were +afloat by noon. By contrast it was pleasant, but it still was cold, +and we stood to our paddling. I wrapped the woman in extra blankets, +and made her swallow some brandy. I hoped that she would sleep, but +she did not, for it was she who called to us that there were three +canoes ahead. + +It showed how clogged I was by sombre thought that I had not seen them, +for in a moment they swept in full sight. I crowded the woman down in +the canoe, and covered her with sailcloth. Then I hailed the canoes +with a long cry, "Tanipi endayenk?" which means, "Whence come you?" and +added "Peca," that they might know I called in peace. + +The canoes wheeled and soon hung like water birds at our side. They +were filled with a hunting party of Pottawatamies, and the young braves +grunted and chaffered at me in high good humor. I gave them knives and +vermilion, and they talked freely. I saw them look at the draped shape +in the canoe, but I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Ouskouebi!" which +might mean either "drunken" or a "fool," and they grinned and seemed +satisfied. They promised to report to me at La Baye des Puants, and I +saw by their complaisance that the French star was at the zenith. I +should have stretched my legs in comfort as I went on my way. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +A COMPACT + +We paddled that afternoon till the men splashed water into the canoes, +which was their way of telling me that I had worked them hard enough. +It was dusk when we landed, and starlight before our kettles were hot. +I had been silent, when I had not been fault finding, till, supper +over, the woman, leaning across the fire, asked me why. + +"Is something wrong?" she ventured. "Ever since we met the +Pottawatamies you have seemed in haste." + +I looked around. The men were at a distance preparing for sleep. "I +wish to reach the Pottawatamie Islands before to-morrow night. +Mademoiselle Starling, may I talk of our future?" + +She rose. "You called me mademoiselle." + +"Yes, mademoiselle." + +"And you mean"-- + +I took off my hat. "Will you come with me?" I asked,--"come where we +shall not be overheard? We must talk of our future." + +I knew that she trembled as she bowed her assent, but I pretended to be +blind. I led the way outside of the circle of light, then waited for +her to come to me. I stood with my hat in hand, and my heart cried in +pity for the woman, but my tongue was heavy as a savage's. + +"I learned from the Pottawatamies," I said, "that Father Nouvel is +tarrying at their islands. If we haste, we may find him there. +Mademoiselle, will you marry me?" + +I do not know that I was cool enough to measure rightly the space of +the silence that ensued, but it seemed a long one. The woman stood +very still. A star fell slanting from the mid-sky, and I watched it +slip behind the horizon. The woman's head was high, and I knew that +she was thinking. It troubled me that she could think at such a time. + +"Mademoiselle"--I began. + +"Wait!" she interrupted. She raised her hand, and her fingers looked +carven white in the moonlight, though by daylight they were brown. +"Monsieur, you watched the star. It went into the unknown,--a way so +wide and terrible that we may not follow it even in thought. We live +alone with majestic forces,--forests greater than an empire, unmapped +waters, and strange, savage men. We are pygmies; yet, if we have +spirit we can grow into some measure of the greatness and inflexibility +around us. Monsieur, when you asked me--what you asked me now--you +were thinking of France and its standards. Of little, tidy, hedged-in +France. You were not---- Oh, monsieur, I am sorry you asked me that +question. Of course I answer 'no,' but--but I am sorry that you asked +it." + +I went to her. "You are cold. Come with me to the fire. Come. The +men are asleep by this time. Mademoiselle, your spirit is steel and +fire, but your body betrays you. You are shivering and afraid. +Yet---- Well, mademoiselle, pygmies or giants, whichever we may be, we +must not scorn counsel. You once called us partners. On that basis, +will you listen to me now?" + +"But you must not"---- + +"Mademoiselle, on that basis will you listen to me now?" + +"Yes." + +"Then come." I led her to the warmth, and placed her snugly, with logs +to pillow her and her face away from the sleeping men. Then I sat +beside her. But my speech had left me. I had no reasons, no +persuasions at my tongue. + +"Father Nouvel is at the islands," I said. "Mademoiselle, you must +marry me. You must." + +"Why 'must,' monsieur?" + +"We cannot travel in this way." + +"A week ago you thought it possible." + +"I had not tried it then. It will not do." + +"Monsieur, what has gone wrong?" + +I took out my hunting knife and tried its edge. + +"My mind," I answered savagely. "Mademoiselle, I may, as you say, have +tidy, circumscribed France behind my thought, but---- Well, +mademoiselle, I was brought up to certain observances in regard to a +woman. And I cannot forget you are a woman. When the men speak +roughly to you I put my hand on my sword." + +"I have seen you, monsieur." + +"And so I lose much thought and time conquering my anger. It fills my +thought. When I taught you Indian verbs the other day the rain dripped +from your hair. And I sat like a clod. What could I do? I could not +shelter you for fear of rousing suspicion in the men. Mademoiselle, I +cannot stand it. I must let the men know that you are a woman. And +then I must marry you when we reach Father Nouvel." + +She rose. "Monsieur, you must send me back to Montreal." + +I kept my seat. "Mademoiselle, I have your word," I reminded. "You +agreed to listen." + +I had meant to plead, not to rebuke, and I regretted that she flushed. +She seated herself lingeringly, but I saw that she leaned back, and did +not sit as she had done before with her muscles braced for flight. + +"Why not send me back to Montreal?" she begged. + +The embers of the fire fell into irregular, rectangular shapes like the +stone buildings on the Marne, where I was born. My father had beggared +us, but those buildings were left. I scorned my father's memory, but I +had strange pride in the name and place that had been his. + +"I have thought over this matter by night and day," I replied slowly. +"I cannot send you to Montreal, for I cannot trust these men. If I +take you myself I shall lose six weeks out of the summer. Then it will +be too late to accomplish anything. No, I cannot afford so much time. +The summer is all too short as it is." + +"You would marry me--marry me to get me out of the way--rather than +lose six weeks of time!" + +I rose. "Spare your scorn, mademoiselle. This is no joust of wits. I +would sell everything--except the honor of my sword--rather than lose +six weeks of time." + +"Then you have a mission?" + +"A self-sent one, mademoiselle." + +"But you can come again next year." + +"Next year will be too late." + +She threw out her hands. "Monsieur, try me. Let me travel with you as +a man. I will be a man. I will be Monsieur Starling in truth. Try me +once more." + +I took her hand. "Mademoiselle, mademoiselle," I said, "think a +moment. Would I force you to this marriage--would I suggest it +even--if it did not seem a necessity, a necessity for my own ends? For +I must have my head and hands clear. It is a selfish view. I know +that. It is crushingly selfish. But it is for a large purpose. I am +a small man fitted to a great undertaking, and I can permit no divided +interests. I need an unhampered mind." + +She walked a few steps. "And if I should travel with you as a woman +and yet not marry you," she asked over her shoulder, "what then?" + +I looked away. "I should be obliged to fight every man of my company +first, then every white man that we might meet. It would hardly leave +me with an unhampered mind, mademoiselle." + +She made no comment with word or eye, and going back to the place where +we had been sitting, she dropped upon the sand. I covered her +shoulders with the red blanket, and again sat beside her. I would be +silent till she chose to speak. After a time I went back into the +forest to search fresh fuel for our fire. + +When I returned with my arms laden, she turned her face toward me; her +sorrowful eyes looked as if she could never again know sleep or +forgetfulness. "I am a coward," she said, "yet I thought that +cowardice and my desire for life had both died together. I did not +draw back from the knives of the Indians, but now I am afraid of a +loveless marriage. We are young. We may live many years. Oh, +monsieur, I have not the courage!" + +I piled the wood on the fire and did not answer. I stirred the red +coals and marked how the flames slipped along the dried branches in +festoons of light. Pierre was snoring, and I kicked him till he rolled +over and swore in bastard French. Then I went to the woman. + +"You have won," I said, and I laughed a little,--a mean, harsh laugh, +my ears told me, not the laugh of a gentleman. "Mademoiselle, you have +won. We start toward Montreal tomorrow. Then marry--whom you will." + +She looked into my eyes. "Wait a moment;" she stopped. "Monsieur, how +much time have you spent in learning the Indian dialects and preparing +for this expedition?" + +"Two years." + +"And next year will indeed be too late?" + +I shrugged my shoulders. "We waste good hours," I suggested. +"Mademoiselle, may I say 'good-night'?" + +She stepped toward me. "Monsieur, do not spoil your courtesy," she +begged. "I asked you a question." + +I smiled at her. "The answer has lost pith and meaning. Yes, +mademoiselle, next year will indeed be too late." + +She put her hands before her eyes. "Then I will change my answer. +Monsieur, I will marry you when we reach Father Nouvel." + +But I would not reply. I walked to the beach where there were dark and +stars. I ground my heel into the pebbles, and I did not hear her +moccasined step behind me. She had to touch my arm. + +"I meant it, monsieur," she whispered. + +I raised her fingers, and laid them back against her side. "Why tempt +me?" I said rudely. "Happily for you my word is a man's word. We +start toward Montreal to-morrow." + +"Monsieur, I beg you. Go west to-morrow." + +"No, mademoiselle." + +"Then--then--monsieur, I give you warning. If we start toward Montreal +to-morrow I shall escape you at the first opportunity, and try my +fortune alone in the woods." + +"You threaten me?" + +She stood in front of me. "I would bring you to reason. Yes, I +threaten you, in that I shall do what I say. Come, monsieur, I will +follow you westward. Your years of preparation, your great +opportunity, shall not be wasted because of me." + +I took her hand. "You are a strange woman. A sage and a child; a +woman and a warrior. But I will not marry you, mademoiselle." + +"Why not, monsieur?" + +"Because I will not hoodwink you. So long as I took you blindly +against your will, I felt no shame at going about my own ends. But now +that you have turned the tables on me and come without force, I cannot +let you be a tool. I would not take you without telling you my +plans,--and then you would not come." + +"I know your plans, monsieur." + +"You know that I hunt beaver." + +"I know that you hunt men. Monsieur, are all the women of your nation +puppets, that you should think me blind? Listen. You plan a coalition +of the western tribes. La Salle's plan--with changes. You hope to +make yourself a dictator, chief of a league of red men that shall +control this western water-way. Is not this so, monsieur?" + +"I---- Yes, mademoiselle." + +"You intend to form your league this summer and advance upon the +Iroquois in the autumn before the ice locks the lakes. You are in +haste, for if you delay another twelvemonth you are convinced that the +Iroquois will make a treaty with the Hurons at Michillimackinac, +massacre your garrison there, cow the western tribes, and so wrest this +country from the French. Is not this so, monsieur?" + +"Yes, mademoiselle." + +"You see that I understand all this, monsieur. Yet, I will go with +you." + +I did not stir. "You are acute. Yet there is one point in my plan +that you did not mention," I said dully. + +She turned away. "I hoped to spare us both," she returned in a tone as +lifeless as my own. "Yet, if you wish words, take them. Monsieur, the +Iroquois are allies of the English. Your warfare with them is but a +step in pursuit of larger game. In founding an empire for your own +land you would take one away from mine. You hope in the end to crush +the English on this continent. Have I stated you correctly, monsieur?" + +I bowed. + +She laughed--a laugh more bitter than my own had been. "I am indeed +the plaything of Fate," she said a little wildly. "But I will marry +you. You saved my life. Yes, more. You threw your career into the +balance for an unknown man, your foe. You jeopardized all that you +hoped for, and you never whined nor lost sleep. You are a superb +gamester, monsieur." + +I smiled. "Not enough of a gamester to accept your sacrifice, +mademoiselle." + +She clenched her hands. "I will marry you," she retorted. "You shall +follow out your purpose. Though, after all, you cannot succeed. Who +are you? A dreamer, a soldier of fortune, a man without place or +following. You think slowly, and your heart rules your head. How can +you hope to wrest an empire from--from us? You cannot do it. You +cannot. But you shall have your chance. You gave me mine and you +shall have yours. We go west. Otherwise--I have warned you, monsieur." + +I seized her wrist, and made her meet my look. "That is a coward's +threat," I said contemptuously. + +I could not daunt her. "I mean it. I mean it, monsieur," she repeated +quietly. + +I stood and looked at her. "You have a man's equity," I said. "You +are determined to give me my chance. Well, I will take it,--and +remember that you gave it to me. But, would you have me in any way +weaken my purpose, mademoiselle?" + +She looked up with a flash of anger. "Am I a child or an intriguing +woman? No, no. Do your best, or your worst, or I shall despise you +for your weakness. I have told you that I have scant hopes for your +success, monsieur." + +What could I say? I stood before her awkwardly. "Mademoiselle, may I +tell you something of myself and my people? You should know what sort +of name you are to bear." + +But she pressed her hands outward. "No, no!" she cried. "Why tell +me?" Then she sobered. "I know that you are brave and kind," she +said, with her eyes down. "Beyond that--I do not think that I am +interested, monsieur." + +I felt angered. "You should be interested," I said bluntly. "Well, +the night is slipping away. Let me lead you to the fire and bid you +good-night." + +Her finger tips met mine as we walked back together, but the touch was +as remote as the brushing of the pine boughs on my cheek. Yet when I +would have handed her her blanket and turned away, she detained me. +"Sit with me a little longer, monsieur," she begged. "I--I think I am +afraid of the woods to-night. Let us sit here a while." + +I could not grasp her mood, but there was nothing for me but to yield +to it. I made her as comfortable as possible, and saw that the fire +was kept alight; then I sat near her. I was tired, but time went +swiftly. My mind would not have given my body rest, even had I lain +down. + +In time the woman leaned toward me. "There is--there is no woman who +will suffer from this?" she asked slowly. + +I stirred the fire. "I have no wife, mademoiselle." + +"I did not mean that. There is no woman who--who cares for you?" + +"Not to my knowledge." + +"And you--and you, monsieur? There is no one whom you are giving up?" + +I answered slowly. "Mademoiselle," I said, "you are a strangely wise +woman. You know the value of reticence,--something few women seem to +know. We have talked of many things, of ambition, of justice, of +generosity, but never, never of love. Are you wise to open the past in +that one matter? I have asked you no questions." + +She hid her face in her hands. "But I will tell you. I was betrothed +to my cousin,--to Benjamin Starling. I would not marry him now, I +would not marry him now to save him from the rack. I have nothing more +to tell you, monsieur." + +I let the moments slip. The east was brightening, and in an hour it +would be dawn. I knew we needed rest. I rose, and, standing behind +the woman, bent over her. + +"Mademoiselle Starling," I whispered, "tomorrow, at this time, you will +be Madame Montlivet." She did not stir, and I laid my hand on her +shoulder where it rose slim and sinewy as a boy's from the low neck of +her squaw's dress. I bent lower. "You strange woman," I went on, +marveling at her calm. "You strange woman, with the justice of a man +and the tempers of a child. Have you a woman's heart, I wonder? I do +not talk to you of love, but it may be that it will come to us. I will +try to be good to you, Mary Starling. Carry that promise with you when +I say good-night." + +And then she trembled. "Wait, wait, monsieur! There is one word +first. I have tried--I have tried to say it." + +I knelt beside her. "What would you say to me, mademoiselle?" + +But she turned away. "Monsieur, monsieur! I will marry you, yes. But +it is to save your hopes,--your future. We have--we have no love. +Monsieur, will you not hold me as your guest, your sister? It is I who +would kneel to you, monsieur." + +I pushed her down. "Sit still," I commanded. I turned my back to her, +for I had no speech. She did not plead, but I could feel her tremble. +I forced words out of me. + +"You are a Protestant?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +I picked up the corner of her blanket. "I am a Catholic," I said, +drawing away the woolen folds that I might look at her. "In our church +marriage is a sacrament, mademoiselle." + +She lifted her great eyes. "Monsieur, our marriage will be no +sacrament. It will be a political contract. A marriage--a marriage of +convenience--in name only---- Surely when we reach home it can be +annulled. Must I--must I beg of you, monsieur?" + +I rose and looked down at her. "A strange woman of a strange race," I +said. "No, you need not beg of me. I have never had a captive in my +life,--not even a bird. Mademoiselle, you shall bear my name, if you +are willing, for your protection, but you shall go as my guest to +Montreal." And I left her in her red blanket and went away. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +WE REACH THE ISLANDS + +The dawn came with an uprush of unclouded light showing burnished green +leaves and dancing water. I bowed my head to the woman's hand to bid +her good-morning, and I served her with meal cakes and sweet water from +a maple tree. I was reckless of Pierre's eyes, though I knew them to +be weasel sharp for certain sides of life. The woman answered me but +scantily, and when we were embarked sat quiet in the bottom of the +canoe. I forbore to look at her. + +The men feared my mood that day, so paddled well. I charged them not +to speak nor sing, for I would have no wasted breath, and the sombre +shore, pine and tamarack and savage rock, passed before us like +pictures dropping from a roll. Toward sunset I sighted a canoe full of +warriors, and when we drew near I saw that they were Pottawatamies. + +"Are we near your islands?" I hailed. + +The men bowed toward the southwest. "The space of the star rising, and +you will reach them if you travel," spoke the tallest. "You ride fast. +I have seen you come like the white squall on the water." + +I called again. "Does Father Nouvel tarry with you?" I cried. + +I thought that they looked at the maid in the canoe. "He tarries," +they answered. + +I gave the signal and we slipped away. "To the shore," I commanded, +and the two canoes took new vigor. The men, like stall-fed beasts, +spurred themselves by the prospect of eating and idleness, and we were +soon at the beach. I bent over the woman. + +"Be prepared," I whispered. "I must tell the men. If I play the clown +it is but to impress them, mademoiselle." + +She met my glance with a look of entire understanding, and rising gave +me her finger tips and stepped from the canoe. I do not know how she +turned all in one instant from a sun-burned stripling to a great lady, +but that was what occurred. The men, stretching themselves as they +stepped to the shore, stopped and stared. I saw that I must speak +quickly. + +"Let the canoes alone," I said. "We will stop here but a moment. +Go--all of you--and gather green twigs and young ferns, and flowers if +you can find them. Then bring them to me here. Go." + +The men stood as jointless as tin images. But I saw that they were not +only dumfounded but afraid, so I laid my hand on my sword, to give them +better cause for their stupefaction. "Go!" I shouted again, and so +perverse is my nature that, though I knew well I had no cause for +merriment, I swallowed hard to keep back a smile. + +The woman and I stood alone while the men jerked their way like +automatons from bush to tree. The chaos of their minds had numbed +their muscles, and they stripped the young boughs clumsily like a herd +of browsing moose. I did not look at the woman. I knew that she +needed all my courtesy, but it was hard to speak to her just then. + +The men wandered for perhaps five minutes, then ranged themselves +before me. They bore a curious collection of grasses, mutilated +tamarack boughs, and crushed brakes. They eyed my sword hilt, and +looked ready for flight. Yet I was master, and they remembered it. +Had I ordered them to eat the fodder that they bore, they would not +have spoken, and I think that they would have endeavored to obey. + +I pointed to the canoe where the woman was accustomed to sit. "Place +the greens there," I said. "Make a carpet of them where the red +blanket is lying. Work quickly,--then come here. No talking." + +They obeyed. They dressed the canoe like a river barge on a fete day, +and again they lined themselves before me. I took the woman by the +hand. + +"You have decked the canoe for my wedding journey," I said, and all my +perverse inner merriment suddenly died. "This traveler, whom you have +known as a man, is Mademoiselle Marie Starling and my promised wife. +We are to be married when we reach the Pottawatamie Islands. She is +your future mistress, and you may come and touch her hand and swear to +serve her as faithfully as you have served me. Pierre, you may come +first." + +A man who has seen battle knows that the pang of a bullet can clear +even a peasant's clogged brain. The churls took this blow in silence +and tried to make something out of it. What they made I could not +fathom, but it lifted them out of themselves, for after a moment they +raised their eyes and came forward like men. I had never seen them in +an equal guise; I could have grasped them by the hand had it been wise. + +The woman extended her palm to them, and gave them each a word as they +passed in review. She was gracious, she was smiling, yet somehow she +was negligent. I was not prepared that she should be used to homage. +Perhaps I had thought that this bit of vassalage would give her +pleasure. She treated it like an old tale. + +"Enough," I ordered. "Pierre, you may draw a portion of brandy all +around and drink to the health of your mistress. Then we shall get +under way." + +Pierre's portions were always ample, and the western red was dulling by +the time we were again afloat. I did not paddle, but seated myself +beside the woman on the crushed leaves and watched in inactivity and +silence while the starlight came. As the dusk deepened we slipped by +strange islands, but I held the canoes straight in advance till a +limestone headland rose white out of the blurred, violet water. The +star shine showed a deep bay and wavering lights among the trees. I +touched the woman's shoulder. + +"The largest of the Pottawatamie Islands," I explained. "I have had +maps. Pray God we may find what we seek." + +The canoes bumped and slid upward on the sand, and I left the men on +guard, and taking the woman's hand led her toward the lights. A rabble +of dogs trooped upon us and gave tongue, and black shapes, arrow-laden, +clustered out of the wigwams. + +"Peca," I cried, in greeting, and again, "Where is your chief? Where +is Onanguisse?" + +A French voice answered, "Who calls?" The mat that hung before the +entrance of the nearest lodge was pulled aside, and smoke and red light +flared out of the opening. I saw the black robe of a priest! + +"Father Nouvel, Father Nouvel!" I cried like a schoolboy. "You are +indeed here!" + +The priest stooped to pass through the skin-draped opening, and came +peering into the starlight. + +"Who calls Father Nouvel?" he demanded in a mellow voice, rich in +intonations. "What, an Indian woman, monsieur! Who are you? What +means this?" + +I led the woman forward. "Father Nouvel, this is Mademoiselle +Starling, an Englishwoman who was captured by the Indians. We have +traveled fast and far to find you. Can you marry us at once?" + +It was badly done. I had jumbled my speech without wit or address, +like a peasant dragging his milkmaid before the village cure. The +woman may have felt my clumsiness. She dropped my hand, and curtsied +deeply to the father, and he, staring, checked the hand that he had +raised to extend to her, and bowed deeply in turn. It was a meeting, +not of priest and refugee, but of a man and woman who had known the +world. Father Nouvel was very old and his skin was wrinkled ivory, but +at this moment he wore his cassock as if it were a doublet slashed with +gold. His command was an entreaty. + +"Come nearer, daughter. I wish to see your face." + +She followed him close to the flaring light that poured from the +wigwam, and he looked at her as unsparingly as if she were a portrait +of paint and oil. + +"I have never seen you," he decided. "Yet the name Starling,--it is +unusual, and it brings troubling memories to my mind." + +The woman deliberated a moment. She was indeed a woman with wit that +did not need mine, and I felt it to be so, and I stood at one side, and +thought out my own conclusions. She looked up. "At Meudon?" she +suggested to the priest. + +He smote his palms together. "I am old," he mourned. "Else I could +never have forgotten. At Meudon, of course. It was at a meeting of +Jacobites. An exile named Starling--he was a commanding man, my +daughter--was their leader. How did you know?" + +She stood there in her Indian dress of skins with a forest around her +and talked of courts. + +"I remembered that you were in Paris three years ago," she explained, +"and that our king--yes, our king, Father Nouvel, although a king in +exile--talked sometimes with you. There was often one of your order at +the meetings at Meudon." + +The father looked at her. "I could almost think that age and +loneliness have undone my mind," he said slowly. "You talk of kings +and courtiers. Who are you?" + +I waited, perhaps more eagerly than the priest himself, for her reply. +None came. I thought she gave a flitting look toward me, and so I +shrugged my shoulders and thrust myself again into the priest's thought. + +"If we were kings, courtiers, and Jacobites all in one," I said as +airily as might be in view of my aching muscles, "the titles would yet +clink dully as leaden coins, travel-worn as we are. Can you marry us +this evening, Father Nouvel?" + +He looked at me keenly, not altogether pleased. "And you are"--he +asked. + +"Armand de Montlivet, from Montreal." + +He relaxed somewhat. "I have heard of you. No, I cannot marry you +to-night. I will find a lodge for this demoiselle, and we will talk of +this to-morrow. Come now and let me bring you to the chief," and with +a beckoning of the hand he led the way into the lodge behind him. + +We followed closely. The lodge was large, and was roofed and floored +with rush mats. The smoke hung in a cloud over our heads, but the air +around us was sufficiently clear for us to see,--though with some +rubbing of the eyes. An aged Indian sat close to the blaze, and Father +Nouvel walked over to him. + +"Onanguisse," he said, "two strangers lift the mat before your +door,--strangers with white faces. Do you bid them take broth and +shelter?" + +The old chief nodded. He had lacked curiosity to look out at us while +we had stood talking before his door, and now he scarcely lifted his +eyes. + +"Is the Huron with them?" he asked the priest. + +I pushed forward. "What Huron?" I demanded, in the Pottawatamie speech. + +The chief stirred somewhat at hearing me use his language. "A Huron is +in the woods," he said indifferently. "Every one must live, thieves as +well as others, but I do not like it that he stole our squashes. When +a Huron comes, you will soon see the French." + +I would have asked questions, for I craved more news, but before the +words could form, since I am slow, the woman spoke. + +"Nadouk!" she exclaimed. "I understand that word. It means Huron. +Are the Hurons pursuing us?" + +Her woman's voice echoed oddly in that smoke-grimed place. Onanguisse +looked up. I have lived among Indians, and know some sides of their +nature, but I am never prepared for what they may do. The old chief +stared and then rose. "A white thrush!" he said, and he looked at +Father Nouvel for explanation. + +"They come to be married," the priest hastened. "Have you an empty +lodge for the maiden?" + +Onanguisse listened, then walked to the woman, and looked at her as he +would study a blurred trail in the forest. She bore his scrutiny well, +and he grunted approval. Now that he had risen he was impressive. He +was tall, and had that curious, loose-jointed suppleness that, I have +heard women say, comes only from gentle blood. As he stood beside +Father Nouvel it came to me that the two men were somewhat kin. One +face was patrician and the other savage, but they were both old men who +bore their years with wisdom and kept the salt of humor close at hand. +The chief turned to me. + +"To marry? It is the moon of flowers, and the birds are mating. It is +well. The white thrush shall sleep in my lodge to-night. I will go +elsewhere. Come," and pointing to the door, he would have driven the +priest and myself outside without more words. + +I glanced around. The lodge was unexpectedly neat, and though I +dreaded to leave the woman in the smoke, I knew it was unwise to +protest. Would she be willing to stay? She was often ruled by +impulse, and it would be like her to clamor for the clean starlight. I +told her, in short phrase, what the chief had said. "And I beg you to +show as little repugnance as possible," I added. + +She listened without showing me her eyes,--which were always the only +index I had to what was in her mind. + +"Thank the chief for his hospitality," she rejoined, and she looked +toward Onanguisse, and bowed with a pretty gesture of acceptance. Then +she walked over to me. + +"When you thought me a man," she said hurriedly, and in a tone so low +that only I could hear, "you trusted somewhat to my judgment,--even +though you saw me fail. When you found me a woman, you trusted less, +and since--since you arranged to marry me, you have assumed that I +would fail you at every turn. Ours is a crooked road, monsieur, and +there are many turns ahead. If you burden your mind so heavily with me +you cannot attend to what is your real concern. Trust me more. Think +less about me. I will show no irritation, no initiative, and I will +follow where you point. I should like to think that you would rest +to-night,--rest care free. I wish you good-night, monsieur." + +She had spoken with a hurry of low-toned words that left me no opening, +and now she turned away before my tongue was ready to serve my mind. +She bowed us to the door, and the rush mat fell between us. I watched +the old chief stalk away and wondered what was in his mind. + +"Is this the first white woman he has seen?" I asked the priest. + +Father Nouvel smiled reflectively at the retreating back. "Oh, no," he +replied. "He has been in Quebec. He is the chief you must have heard +quoted, who vaunted that God had made three great men,--La Salle, +Frontenac, and himself. He is a crafty man and able. You see that he +never squanders strength nor words. No, monsieur, you must not follow +me." He stopped to lay a hand on my shoulder. "Take heed, my son. Ox +that you look to be for endurance, there are yet lines under your eyes. +I will not talk to you to-night. Sleep well. I take it for granted +that you prefer to sleep as I do, under the stars." And putting out +his thin, ivory hand in blessing, he went away. + +But I was not ready for sleep. I went to the canoes, sent the men to +rest, and found food which I carried to the woman, and left, with a +whispered word, outside her door. Then I ate some parched corn, and +lighting my pipe, lay down to take counsel of what had befallen me. I +lay at some distance from the woman's lodge, but not so far but that I +could see the rush mat that hung before it. The Indians watched me, +but kept at a distance. I saw that Onanguisse had given commands. + +I had so much to work out in my mind that I thought sleep would come +slowly, but I remember nothing from the moment when I bolstered my head +in my arms till I found the moon shining in my face. It had been +starlight when I went to sleep, I remembered, and I raised my eyelids +warily. A wild life teaches the dullest to know when he has been +wakened by some one watching him. And I knew it now. + +The world was white light and thick shadow. Wigwams, dogs, stumps, +trees, sleeping Indians, I counted them in turn. Then I saw more. A +pine tree near me had too thick a trunk. That was what I had expected. +I let my eyes travel cautiously upward till they met the shining points +of eyes watching me. + +I lay and looked, and the eyes looked in return. I did not dare glance +away and the Indian would not, so we stared like basilisks. It was not +an heroic position, and having a white man's love for open action, I +had to argue with myself to keep from letting my sword whistle. But +fighting with savages is not open nor heroic. It is tedious, oblique, +often uninteresting, and frequently fatal. I was unwilling to lose my +head just then. So I lay still. If this were the Huron, he was +probably merely reconnoitring, as I had reason to believe he had done +several times before. His game interested me, for he seemed to work +unnecessarily hard for meagre returns, and Indians are seldom +spendthrifts of endeavor. I could accomplish nothing by capturing him, +for I should learn nothing. There was ostensible peace between the +Huron nation and myself. I would let him work out his plans till he +did something that I could lay hold of. Yet I would not look away. I +had grown very curious to see his face. + +I do not know how it would have ended, or whether dawn would have found +us still staring like barnyard cats, for chance, and a dog, suddenly +settled the matter. The dog, a forlorn, flea-driven cur, snuffed the +fresh trail, followed it to the tree, and snarled out a shout of +protest. He snarled but once. The Indian drew his knife, stooped, and +I heard the sound of tearing hide and spouting blood. It was only a +dog, but I cursed myself for not having been quicker. + +And so I sat up. I was forced to shift my eyes for an instant in order +to pick up my musket, which, secure in a friendly camp, I had dropped +at a careless arm's length from me on the ground. When I looked again +the Indian was gone. I went to the tree. The Indian had had but an +instant, but he had secured himself out of reach of my eyesight; had +faded into the background as a partridge screens itself behind mottled +leaves. If I followed him, a knife would be slipped out at me from +behind stump or tree trunk, and the dog might not have burial alone. + +I went to the dog and stirred him with my sword point. He was a +noisome heap, but I knew that I must overcome my repugnance and bury +him, or I should have to explain the whole tale to the camp at dawn. +And explanation would take time and was not necessary. The Huron was +following me, and had no quarrel with the Pottawatamies. When I +departed on the morrow he would undoubtedly retie his sandals and +continue the voyage. A wife and a ghost! Two traveling guests I had +not reckoned with in planning this expedition. I shrugged, and stooped +to spit the dog upon my sword, when I saw a skin pouch lying +blood-bathed at the creature's side. It was a bag such as savages wear +around their necks, and the Indian had probably let it fall when he +stooped to kill the dog. + +I seized it, careless of the smearing of my fingers, and took it to the +moonlight. It was made of the softest of dressed doeskin, and +embroidered in red porcupine quills with the figure of a beaver +squatting on a rounded lodge. I had seen that design before. It was +the totem sign of the house of the Baron, and this bag had hung from +Pemaou's neck that day when he danced between me and the sunset and +flung the war spear at my heart. + +I felt myself grow keenly awake and alive. So it was Pemaou who was +following. Well, I had told him that we should meet again. I untied +the strings of the bag and turned its contents into my handkerchief. +There was an amulet in the form of a beaver's paw, a twist of tobacco, +a flint, a tin looking-glass, and a folded sheet of birch bark. I +stopped a moment. Should I look further? It was wartime and I was +dealing with a savage. I unfolded the bark and pressed it open in my +palm. There, boldly drawn in crayon, was a head in profile; it was the +profile of the woman who lay in the lodge, and whose mat-hung door I +was guarding. Yes, it was her profile, and it was one that no man +could forget, though when I speak of a straight nose and an oddly +rounded chin, they are but words to fit a thousand faces. + +I refolded the bark, put it in my pocket, and buried the dog. Then I +sat down before the woman's wigwam. I had one point to work on in my +speculations. No Indian would draw a head in profile, for he would be +superstitious about creating half of a person. I slept no more that +night. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A PROVISIONAL BARGAIN + +I began my day as early as I thought it wise to disturb the sleepers +around me, and by the time the sun was two hours high I had +accomplished several things. I had confessed to the priest, had had a +clean lodge of green boughs built for the woman, and had bargained and +bantered with the Indians, and blustered over them with knowledge of +their language till they accorded me reluctant grins. They had a +village of seven or eight hundred souls, and I found them a marked +people. They were cleaner than any savages I had seen,--the women were +modest and almost neat,--and their manners had a somewhat European air. +I judged them to be politicians rather than warriors, for the braves, +though well shaped and wiry, lacked the look of ferocious hardihood +that terrified white men in the Iroquois race. But I found them keen +traders. + +One purchase that I made took time. I wished a new suit of skins for +the woman, and I went from lodge to lodge, searching and brow-beating +and dangling my trinkets till I was ready to join with the squaws in +their laughter at my expense. But my purchase once completed pleasured +me greatly. I had found it a little here and a little there, and it +was worthy any princess of the woods. I had gathered blouse, skirt, +leggings, and moccasins, all new, and made of white dressed deerskin +pliable as velvet to the hand. They looked to me full of feminine +bravery. The leggings and moccasins were beaded and quill broidered, +and the skirt was fringed and trimmed with tiny hawk's bells. + +I took the garments to the green lodge, laid them out in order, saw +that there were trenchers of fresh water, and brought what conveniences +we had from the canoe. The pity of the situation came upon me hard. I +had to be father and friend,--lover I could not be. The woman had +great self-control, but she would need it. Well, I could trust her to +do her best. I went to find her. + +As yet I had not said good-morning to her, although I had seen her from +the distance, and knew that she had breakfasted and had talked with +Father Nouvel. She was sitting now under a beech tree on the headland, +and when I bent before her she shook her head. + +"It is not real," she said, with a look over water and forest. "It is +all a dream." + +I stopped to send a group of curious squaws upon their way. It was +indeed like a pictured spectacle,--the green wood, the Indian village, +and the headland-guarded bay opening northward over rolling water. + +"Yes, it is a dream," I agreed. "You will soon wake. Where would you +like the wakening to take place, mademoiselle? At Meudon?" + +She looked up with a smile. "What would you like to know about me?" +she asked, with a sober directness, which, like her smile, was friendly +and brave. "You heard something last night. I am entirely willing to +tell you more. But is it not wise for us to know as little as possible +about each other?" + +"Why, mademoiselle?" + +She hesitated. "As we stand now," she explained slowly, "we have no +past nor future. We live in a fantasy. We are cold and hungry, but +life is so strange that we forget our bodies. It is all as unreal as a +mirage. When it is over, we part. If we part knowing nothing of each +other, it will all seem like a dream." + +I thought a moment. "Then you think that we must guard against growing +interested in each other, mademoiselle?" + +She looked at me gravely. "Yes. Do you not think so, monsieur? +'Friends for the night's bivouac.' Those were your words." + +Now was here a woman who felt deeply and talked lightly? I had not met +such. "It is wise," I rejoined, "but difficult." I took the crayon +from my pocket and began drawing faces on the white limestone rock at +my side. I drew idly and scowled at my work. "The Indians can do +better," I lamented. "Was your cousin, Benjamin Starling, clever with +his pencil, mademoiselle?" + +She drew back, but she answered me fairly. "Very clever," she said +quietly. "It was a talent. Why do you ask, monsieur?" + +"I find myself thinking of him." I dropped the crayon. "Listen, +mademoiselle. I must ask you some questions. Believe me, I have +reasons. Now as to your cousin,--is he alive?" + +She looked off at the water. "I do not know, monsieur." + +She had become another woman. I hated Benjamin Starling that his name +could so instantly sap the life from her tone. + +"Please look at me," I begged irritably. "Mademoiselle, I think that I +must ask you to tell me more,--to tell me much more." + +She rose. "Is it necessary?" + +I bowed. "Else I should not ask it. Please sit, mademoiselle." + +She sat where my hand pointed. "You know that we were Tories," she +began, in the quiet monotone I had learned to expect from her under +stress, "and that our family followed King James to France. My parents +died. I had no brothers or sisters, and so, a year ago, I came to the +Colonies where I had friends. Later, my cousin followed, and we were +betrothed. We had the same cause at heart, and our joint estates would +give us some power. We planned to use them for that purpose." + +"And your capture? Did your cousin know of it?" + +"Monsieur, you say that this is necessary? My nurse had come to +America, and married a settler, in a village on the frontier. She was +ill, and I went to see her, and stayed some days. My cousin followed, +and stayed at a neighboring house. One night the Indians came. The +woman's husband was away, and the little maid-servant ran at the first +outcry. I was alone with the woman, who could not leave her bed. I +cut my hair roughly, put on a suit of her husband's clothing, and took +a musket. It was a blockhouse, and I hoped that I might hold the +Indians off for a time if they thought me a man." + +"And your cousin?" + +"He came to me. He was running. He said it was of no use. He had +seen men brained. There were legions of Indians. He said there was +nothing left but flight. He tried to take me with him." + +"And when you would not go? When you would not desert?" + +"Monsieur, he went alone." + +I laid myself down on the grass before her, and covered her hands with +mine. "I am not quite a brute," I said. "I had to ask it. Look, +look, mademoiselle, it is all over. See, the sky is gentle, and the +Indians are friendly, and my sword---- Well, I will not leave you, +mademoiselle, until you tell me to go. But I must say more. Your +cousin---- Is he Lord Starling?" + +"Yes." + +"Lord Starling is probably alive. If he is, he is searching for you. +Have you thought of that?" + +"But the wilderness,--the terrible leagues of wilderness! He could not +track me, monsieur." + +"When there is money and influence, even the wilderness has messengers. +He was close to the person of James. Is he a Catholic?" + +"He professed it, monsieur." + +I shook my head. "You are very bitter. You need not be. He was +insane that night. I have known the sight of Indian butchery to turn +good men into whimpering animals. He was not responsible. I know that +he is lavishing time and fortune and strength to find you now." + +I thought she winced. "You know this, monsieur?" + +It was my turn to look away. "I know something of a man's heart," I +answered deliberately. "If I loved you, mademoiselle, and lost +you--lost you, and played the craven,--I should find you. The +wilderness would not matter. I should find you. I should find you, +and retrieve myself--some way. Lord Starling has wit and daring, else +he would not be an exile, else you would not have promised to marry +him. Be assured that he is following you, and is probably not far +behind. Do you want him to find you, mademoiselle?" + +I turned with the last word, and looked her full in the face. It was a +stupid trick, but it served. I had her answer. + +"There!" I cried, and I laughed a little jerkily. "Never mind. Don't +answer. We have talked enough, mademoiselle. We will be married at +noon to-day. Ah, you never loved him, else, no matter what he had +done, you could never look as you look now. Wherever he is, or +whatever kind of man he may be, I do him no wrong in giving you my name +to-day." I took the pictured birch bark from my pocket, and tore it in +fine strips. "A useless map," I said in explanation. "Mademoiselle, +may I have your finger to measure?" + +She gave me her hand, and I circled her finger with a grass blade, and +warned her that the ring that I should give her would be almost as +crude. She was trying to keep herself from asking questions, and was +going to succeed. I liked that. It was useless to terrify her with +fables of prowling Indians, and profiles on bark. And then, what was +there to tell? I knew at once too much and too little. I took some +bent gold wire from my pocket, and showed it to her. + +"I am going to plait it into a braid for the ring," I said. "I think +that I can file the ends, and make it serve. It is all I have. I wear +no jewelry, and would not give you one of the brass rings we use in +trade. This is at least gold." + +She watched me straighten the kinks in the wire. "You took that from +something you valued," she said. "I will wear the brass ring. Surely +you can replace this wire where it belongs." + +I shook my head. "It was a filigree frame," I volunteered. + +I had spoken with as little thought as a dog barks, and quite as +witlessly. I knew that as soon as I heard my words. I looked at the +woman. But she was not going to question me. + +"If it was a frame, it held a miniature," she said quietly. "Please +twist the wire around it again. I prefer the brass ring." + +"Because?" + +"I would not rob any one. If you have carried the picture all these +leagues, it is a token from some one you love; some one who loves you. +I have no part in that." + +I went on plaiting the wire. "The woman of the miniature will know no +robbery," I said, "because she knew no possession. Mademoiselle, you +seem in every way to be a woman with whom it is wisest to have a clear +understanding." + +"You need tell me nothing." + +"It is better to tell the whole, now that you have stumbled on a part. +I was nothing to that woman whose face I carried with me. She did not +know I had the picture. I might never have told her. It was nothing, +you see. It was all in a man's mind, and the man now has sterner +matters to fill his thought. I would like you to wear this ring." + +"Why not the other?" + +I laughed at her a little. "I shall try not to give you spurious +metal,--even granted that our bargain is provisional. Now, +mademoiselle, may I take you to the lodge I have had made? In two +hours we are to be married." + +She followed at my side, and I took her to the lodge, and pointed her +within. She glanced at what I had done, and I saw her bite her lip. +She turned to me without a smile. + +"It all makes it harder," she said indefinitely. "Harder to think of +the wrong that I am doing you and the other woman." + +I cannot abide misapprehension. We were alone. "Wait!" I begged. +"Mademoiselle, you cannot probe a man's thought. Often he cannot probe +his own. But I am not unhappy. A man marries many brides, and +Ambition, if the truth be told, is, perhaps, the dearest. I shall +embrace her. You should be able to understand." + +"But the woman. She must have seen that you loved her. She may have +cared more in return than you knew." + +I looked at her. "The lady of the miniature," I said slowly, "had many +lovers. If she showed me special favor, I assure you I did not know. +But even if her fancy did stray toward me,--which I think it did +not,--why, she was---- She was a winsome, softly smiling, gentle lady, +mademoiselle. She was not fire, and spirit, and courage, and loyalty, +and temper, and tenderness. No, she was not in the least like that. I +think that she would soon forget. Have we dropped this subject +forever, mademoiselle?" + +She made me a grave curtsy. "Till we reach Montreal," she promised, +and she did not raise her eyes. + +We were married at noon. The altar stood under an oak tree, and the +light sifted in patterns on the ground. I wore satin, and ribbon, and +shining buckle, for I carried those gewgaws in my cargo, but my finery +did not shame my bride's attire. She stood proud, and rounded, and +supple in her deerskins, and a man might have gloried in her. Seven +hundred Indians, glistening like snakes with oil and vermilion, +squatted around us, but they held themselves as lifeless as +marionettes. It was so still that I heard the snore of a sleeping dog +and the gulls in the harbor squawking over a floating fish. Father +Nouvel spoke very slowly. This was a real marriage, a sacrament, to +him. + +As we turned from the ceremony, Onanguisse came forward. He was not +painted, but he wore a mantle of embroidered buffalo skin, and his +hair, which was dressed high with eagle's feathers, was powdered with +down from the breasts of white gulls. He stood in front of the woman. + +"Listen," he said. "I speak to the white thrush. She cannot +understand my words, but her heart has called to my heart, and that +will teach her to know my meaning. Brethren, bear witness. An eagle +cares naught for a partridge, but an eagle calls to an eagle though +there be much water and many high rocks between. You know the lodge of +Onanguisse. It has fire, but no warmth. I am old, and age needs love +to warm it, but I am alone. First my wife, then my two sons, last of +all, at the time the chestnuts were in blossom, my daughter Mimi,--the +Master of Life called them one by one. I have washed my face, and I +have combed my hair, yet who can say I have not mourned? My life has +been as dead as the dried grass that thatches the muskrat's lodges. +When have any of you seen Onanguisse smile? Yet think not that I +stretch out my hands to the country of souls. I will live, and sit at +the council fire till many of you who are before me have evaporated +like smoke from a pipe. For I am of the race of the bear, and the bear +never yields while one drop of blood is left. And the Master of Life +has been kind. He has brought me at last a woman who has an eagle's +eyesight and a bear's endurance. She is worthy to be of my family. I +have waited for such an one. Her speech is strange, but her blood +answers mine. It is idle to mourn. I will replace the dead with the +living. This woman shall be no more the white thrush. She shall be +Mimi, the turtle dove, the daughter of Onanguisse. Brethren, bear +witness. Mimi is no longer dead. She stands here." He stepped closer +to the woman. "I give you this cloak that you may wrap me in your +memory," he went on. "I hereby confirm my words;" and thereupon, he +threw over her shoulders a long, shining mantle made of the small skins +of the white hare. It was a robe for an empress. + +I stepped forward, then stood still, and resolved to trust the woman as +she had asked. + +"You are adopted," I prompted softly, with no motion of my lips. + +She understood. Wrapped in her white cloak, she curtsied low before +Onanguisse. Then she turned to me. "Tell him," she said, "that my +heart is wiser than my tongue; the one is dumb, but the other answers. +Say to him that I see his face, and it tells me that he has lived +wisely and with honor. I am now of his family. I, too, will strive to +live wisely, that he need not be shamed. Say to him that I will not +forget." She stopped with her glance upon the old chief, and her eyes +held something I had not seen in them before. With me, their +self-reliance had sometimes been hard, almost provocative, as if the +spirit behind them defied the world to break it down. But as she met +this kindness--this kindness that was instinctive, and not a matter of +prudence or reason--all hardness vanished, and her dignity was almost +wistful. I thought of my mother, the saddened head of a great house, +who had seen the ruin of home and heart, but whose spirit would not +die. Something in this woman's face, as she stood silent, suddenly +gave me back the vision of my mother as I had seen her last. I looked +with my heart beating hard. The hush lasted fully a moment, then the +woman drew her cloak closer, curtsied again, and walked back to her +green lodge. + +I turned to the chief, and would have translated what had been said, +but after the first phrase, he motioned me to silence. "She has taken +my robe. She has become of my family. That is sufficient." He lifted +his calumet, and went to give orders for the feasting. + +So the priest and I stood alone. He looked at me, and shook his head. +His mouth was smiling, but I saw him brush at his eyes. "You have +married a woman of great spirit, monsieur," he said, with a touch of +his hand on my sleeve. "They are rare,--most rare." He stopped. "Yet +the roedeer is not made for the paddock," he said impersonally. + +I laughed, and it sounded exultant. I felt the blood hammer in my +temples. "Nor can the thrush be tamed to sit the finger like the +parrakeet," I completed. "I understand that, Father Nouvel." + +The wedding feast followed. Madame de Montlivet, the priest, +Onanguisse, and I sat in a semicircle on the ground, and slaves served +us with wooden trenchers of food. We each had our separate service, +like monks in a refectory, but we were not treated with equal state, +for the woman drank from a copper-trimmed ladle, made from the polished +skull of a buffalo, while my cup was a dried gourd. We ate in +ceremonial silence, and were sunk in our own thoughts. There was food +till the stomach sickened at its gross abundance: whitefish, broth, +sagamite, the feet of a bear, the roasted tail of a beaver. I watched +the slaves bring the food and bear it away, and I said to myself that I +was sitting at my wedding feast,--a feast to celebrate a false marriage. + +After the feast, the calumet was danced before us. Still there was +silence between the woman and myself as we sat side by side. I +wondered if she realized that this strange dance was still further +confirmation of what we had done; that it was part of the ceremony of +our marriage. It was a picture as unreal, as incomprehensible, as the +fate we had invited. The sun was westering, and shone full upon the +dancing braves. Their corded muscles and protruding eyes made them +ghastly as tortured wretches of some red-lit inferno. There was no +laughter nor jesting. The kettle-drum rumbled like water in a cave, +and the chant of the singers wailed, and died, and wailed again. And +this was for my wedding. I looked down at the woman's hand that bore +my ring, and saw that the strong, nervous fingers were gripped till +they were bloodless. What was she thinking? I tried to meet her look, +but it was rapt and awed. A wave of heat ran through me; the wild +music beat into my blood. This savage ritual that I had looked at with +alien eyes suddenly took to itself the dignity of the terrible +wilderness that bound us. The pageantry of its barbarism seized upon +me; it was a fitting setting for one kind of marriage,--not a marriage +of flowers and dowry, but the union of two great, stormy hearts who, +through clash and turmoil, had found peace at last. But ours was a +mock marriage, and we had not found peace. My breath choked me. I +leaped to my feet, and begged Onanguisse to end the ceremony, and let +me do my share. I knew what was my part as bridegroom, and Pierre and +Labarthe were waiting with their arms laden. I distributed hatchets, +Brazil tobacco, and beads from Venice. Then I turned to Onanguisse. + +"We go to the land of the Malhominis, to the wild rice people. They +live toward the south-west?" + +He nodded. "Across La Baye des Puants as the wild goose flies. Then +down till you find the mouth of the wild rice river. But why go till +another sunrise?" + +I hesitated. But I thought of the shadowing Huron, and decided that I +could elude him best at night. "We are in haste," I told Onanguisse, +and I pointed the men toward their work. + +But before I myself had time to step toward the canoes, I felt the +woman's touch upon my arm. Though, in truth, it was odd that I felt +it, for the movement was light as the brushing of a grass stalk. + +"Monsieur, do we go now?" she asked. "You have had no opportunity for +council with these Indians, yet I see that they are powerful." + +She was watching my interests. I laid my fingers on hers, and looked +full at her as I had not done since we had been man and wife. Her eyes +were mournful as they often were, but they were starry with a thought I +could not read. The awe and the wonder were still there, and her +fingers were unsteady under mine. I dropped to my knees. + +"I have done more than you saw," I said, with my eyes on hers. "I have +talked with Onanguisse, and have smoked a full pipe with the old men in +council. Thank you for your interest. Thank you, Madame de Montlivet." + +But she would not look at me bent before her. "That I wish you to do +your best, unhampered by me, does not mean that I wish you success," +she said, with her head high, and she went to Onanguisse, and curtsied +her adieus. Her last words were with Father Nouvel, and she hid her +eyes for a moment, while he blessed her and said good-by. + +Our canoes pointed to the sunset as we rounded the headland and slid +outward. On the shore, the Indian women chanted a hymn to Messou,--to +Messou, the Maker of Life, and the God of Marriage, to whom, on our +behalf, many pipes had been smoked that day. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +I TAKE A NEW PASSENGER + +Now the great bay on which we were embarked was a water empire, fair to +the eye, but tricky of wind and current. La Baye des Puants the French +called it, from the odor that came at seasons from the swamps on the +shore, and it ran southwest from Lake Illinois. The Pottawatamie +Islands that we had just left well-nigh blocked its mouth, and its +southern end was the outlet of a shining stream that was known as the +River of the Fox. The bay was thirty leagues long by eight broad, and +had tides like the ocean. Five tribes dwelt around it: the +Pottawatamies at its mouth, the Malhominis halfway down on its western +shore, and the Sacs, the Chippewas, and the Winnebagoes scattered at +different points in more transitory camps. To the east the bay was +separated from Lake Illinois by a long peninsula that lay like a +rough-hewn arrow with its point to the polestar. It was goodly land, I +had been told, rich in game, and splashed with ponds, but since it was +too small to support the hunting of a tribe it was left comparatively +unoccupied. All of the five tribes, and sometimes the Miamis, fished +there at intervals; it was neutral ground. I told all this to the +woman as our canoes swept toward the sunset. + +She sat with her back to the west, and the sun, that dazzled my eyes, +shone red through her brown hair, and I scorned myself that I should +have believed for a moment that such soft, fine abundance ever framed a +man's forehead. I talked to her freely; talked of winds and tides and +Indians, and was not deterred when she answered me but sparingly. I +could not see her face distinctly, because of the light, but there was +something in the gentleness and intentness of her listening poise that +made me feel that she welcomed the safeguard of my aimless speech, but +that for the moment she had no similar weapons of her own. + +So long as daylight lasted, we traveled swiftly toward the southwest, +but when the sunset had burned itself to ashes, and the sky had blurred +into the tree line, I told the men to shift their paddles, and drift +for a time. The last twenty-four hours had hardened them to surprise. +They obeyed me as they did Providence,--as a troublesome, but +all-powerful enigma. + +And so we floated, swinging like dead leaves on the long swells. The +stars came out, the gulls went shoreward for the night, and we were as +alone as if on the sea. The woman's slender figure, wrapped in her +white cloak, became a silent, shining wraith. She was within touch of +my hand, yet unreachably remote. I lost my glib speech. The gray +loneliness that one feels in a crowd came over me. If I had been alone +with my men, I should have felt well accompanied, master of my craft, +and in tune with my condition. It was the presence of this alien +woman, whom I must protect, but not approach, that made me realize that +I was thousands of leagues from my own kind, and that I must depend on +my own judgment--with which I felt much out of conceit--to carry this +expedition safely through the barbarous wilderness. I shook myself, +and told my men to pick up their paddles. + +But we were to travel no more toward the southwest that night. My plan +was to turn back, paddle due east, and reach the peninsula before the +late moonrise. This doubling on my track was to cheat Pemaou if he +were indeed pursuing. Then I was planning to make the peninsula my +headquarters for a time. I had left word at the islands that I was on +my way to confer with the Malhominis, but I had not committed myself as +to where I should make my permanent camp. I hoped, in this game of +hide and seek, to shake off the Huron, and leave the woman in safe +hiding, while I went on my mission from tribe to tribe. + +And so I told the men to work with muffled paddles. I thought the +precaution somewhat unnecessary, but took it as a matter of form. Now +that I was in action again, I felt in command of the situation. And +then, from some shadowy distance, I heard the splash of a pursuing oar. + +I commanded silence, and we craned into the darkness, and listened. We +all heard it. The sound came as regularly as a heart-beat, and it was +no muffled stroke. The oarsman was using his paddle openly and fast. +The sound came from behind us, a little to the north, and, judging from +its growing distinctness, it was following hard in our track. There +was nothing for it but a race. I gave orders. + +The men worked well, and we sped through foaming water for perhaps a +quarter hour. Then land rose in front of us. It shot up, all in an +instant, out of the murk, and we had quick work to keep from grounding +our canoes. I could see no shore line to north or south. We had found +either the end of a promontory or a small island. We landed on a +shelving beach, and lifted the canoes out of danger. + +"Lie down," I commanded; and we dropped on the sand, and strained our +ears for sound of pursuit. + +For a time we heard nothing. Our burst of speed had carried us some +distance, and I had begun to think that we had shaken off our pursuer, +when again came the beat, beat, beat of the distant oar. We lay close +as alligators on a bank, and waited. The strokes came nearer, and at +last we saw a sliding shape. As well as we could make out, there was +but one canoe, and it was passing us a little to the northward. It +would miss the jut of land where we were hiding, and land on the main +shore of the peninsula. We could hear but one paddle, so judged that +there was but one person in the canoe. Still we did not know. + +It was growing near moonrise, and there was nothing to be done. I told +the men to lie near together, and sleep till I called them. Then I cut +boughs and laid a couple of blankets on them for the woman's couch. +She had sat quiet all these hours, and now, as I bade her good-night, +she asked her first question. + +"Are you willing to tell me why you fear pursuit, monsieur?" + +I hesitated. "We grow like animals in the wilderness," I parried, "and +so suspect every sound as coming from a foe." + +"Then you do not know who it is in the canoe?" + +I could have answered "no," but I would not. + +"Yes, I think that I know," I replied. "I think that it is Pemaou, a +Huron. An Indian whom you have never seen." + +She read the hate in my voice. "Do you know what he wants, monsieur?" + +And now I could answer truthfully, and with a laugh. "I suspect that +he wants, or has been sent to get, something that I have determined to +keep,--at least for the present," I told her. "Good-night, madame." + +I told my inner self that I must sleep soundly, and wake just before +dawn; and so that was what happened. The horizon was flushing when I +rose and looked around. My company was asleep. The woman lay on her +bright blankets, and I looked at her a moment to make sure that all was +well. She was smiling as if her dreams were pleasant, and her face +wore such a look of peace, that I turned to the east, ready to begin +the day, and to thank God that I had not done everything entirely +wrong. I took the lighter of the canoes, carried it to the water, and +dipping a cautious paddle, crept off along the shore. + +If I wake in the woods every dawn for a year, I can never grow stale to +the miracle of it. I was on no pleasant errand, yet I could not help +tingling at the cleanness of the air and at the smell of the mint that +our canoes had crushed. I hugged the shore like a shadow, and rounded +a little bend. It was as I had thought. We had landed on the western +side of a small island, and before me, not a quarter hour's paddling +away, stretched the shore line of the peninsula. + +Here was my risk. I paddled softly across the open stretch, but that +availed me little, for I was an unprotected target. I slanted my +course northward, and strained my gaze along the shore. Yet I hardly +expected to find anything. It came like a surprise when I saw in +advance of me a light canoe drawn up on the sand. + +I landed, drew my own canoe to shelter, and reconnoitred. I had both +knife and musket ready, and I pulled myself over logs as silent as a +snake. Yet, cautious as I was, little furtive rustlings preceded me. +The wood folks had seen me and were spreading the warning. Unless +Pemaou were asleep I had little chance of surprising him. Yet I crept +on till I saw through the leaves the outlines of a brown figure on the +ground. + +I stopped. I had been trying for a good many hours to balance the +right and wrong of this matter in my mind, and my reason had insisted +to my inclination that, if I had opportunity, I must kill Pemaou +without warning. We respect no code in dealing with a rattlesnake, and +I must use this Huron like the vermin that he was. So I had taught +myself. + +But now I could not do it. The blanket-wrapped shape was as +unconscious as a child in its cradle, and though the wilderness may +breed hardness of purpose it need not teach butchery. I crept out +determined to scuttle the Indian's canoe and go away. If the man +waked, my knife was ready to try conclusions with him in a fair field. + +I suppose that I really desired him to wake, and that made me careless, +for just as I bent to the canoe, I let my foot blunder on a twig, and +it cracked like shattering glass. I grasped my knife and whirled. The +figure on the ground jerked, threw off its shrouding blanket, and +stretched up. It was not Pemaou. It was the Ottawa girl Singing Arrow. + +I did not drop my knife. My thought was of decoy and ambush, which was +no credit to me, for this girl had been faithful before. But we train +ourselves not to trust an Indian except of necessity. + +"Are you alone?" I demanded. + +She nodded, pressing her lips together and dimpling. She feared me as +little as a kitten might. + +"I came to the Pottawatamie camp just after you left," she volunteered. + +And then I laughed, laughed as I had not done in days. So this was the +quarry that I had been stalking! I had been under a long tension, and +it was suddenly comfortable to be ridiculous. I sat down and laughed +again. + +"Are you following Pierre?" I asked, sobering, and trying to be stern. + +But she put her head sidewise and considered me. She looked like a +squirrel about to crack a nut. + +"A hare may track a stag," she announced judicially. "I have followed +you. My back is bent like a worm with the aching of it, but I came +faster than a man. I have this for you," and fumbling in her blouse +she brought out a bulky packet addressed with my name. + +I took it with the marvel that a child takes a sleight-of-hand toy and +stared at the seal. + +"From Cadillac! From the commandant!" I ejaculated. + +She nodded. It was her moment of triumph, but she passed it without +outward show. + +"Read it. I am sleepy," she said, and yawning in my face she tumbled +herself back into the blanket and closed her eyes. + +The packet was well wrapped and secured, and I dug my way to the heart +of it and found the written pages. The letter began abruptly. + +"Monsieur," it said, "I send you strange tidings by a stranger +messenger. It is new to me to trust petticoats in matters of secrecy, +but it is rumored that you set me the example, and that you carried off +the Englishman dressed in this Singing Arrow's clothes. The Indian +herself will tell me nothing. That determined me to trust her. + +"Briefly, you are followed. That fire-eating English lad that you have +with you--I warrant that he has proved a porcupine to travel with--must +be of some importance. At all events, an Englishman, who gives his +name as Starling, has made his way here in pursuit. He tells a fair +tale. He says that the lad, who is dear as a brother to him, is a +cousin, who was captured in an Indian raid on the frontier. As soon as +he, Starling, learned of the capture, he started after them, and he has +spent months searching the wilderness, as you would sift the sand of +the sea. He found the trail at last, and followed it here. He begs +that I send him on to you with a convoy. + +"Now this, as you see, sounds very fair, and part of it I know to be +true. The man is certainly in earnest--about something,--and has spent +great time and endeavor in this search. He has even been to Quebec, +and worked on Frontenac's sympathies, for he bears from the governor a +letter of safe conduct to me, and another, from the Jesuits, to Father +Carheil. He comes--apparently--on no political mission; he is alone, +and his tale is entirely plausible. There is but one course open to +me. I must let him go on. + +"But I do it with misgivings. The story is fair, but I can tell a fair +story myself upon occasion, and there is no great originality in this +one. I remember that you said after your first interview with your +Englishman, that you were afraid he was a spy. There is always that +danger,--a danger that Frontenac underestimates because he has not +grasped the possibilities that we have here. If both these men should +prove to be spies, and in collusion---- Well, they are brave men, and +crafty; it will be the greater pleasure to outwit them. I cannot +overlook the fact that the first Englishman was brought here by the +Baron's band of Hurons, and that this man selects his messengers from +the same dirty clan. I have reason to think he was in communication +with them before he came,--which is no credit to a white man. +Dubisson, my lieutenant, tells me that a Huron told his Indian servant +that pictures of the prisoner drawn on bark had been scattered among +the Indians for a fortnight past. The story was roundabout, and I +could not run it down. But it makes me watchful. + +"So this is where we stand. I must give this man Starling a letter to +you. The letter will be official, and will direct you to deliver your +prisoner into Starling's hands. If he finds you, you have no choice +but to obey; so, if you think from your further knowledge of your +prisoner that it is unwise for these two men to meet, it is your cue +not to be found. I leave it with you. + +"There is, of course, great doubt whether this will find you. You +asked me about Onanguissee so I infer that you will stop at the islands +at the mouth of La Baye, and I shall send the Indian girl directly +there. I shall suggest to Starling that he hug the coast line, and +search each bay, and if he listens to me, the girl should reach you +well in advance. But it is all guess-work. Starling may have spies +among the Indians, and know exactly where you are. I wish he were out +of the way. Granted that his errand is fair, he will still see too +much. For all men, in whatever state they are born, lack neither +vanity nor ambition, and this man is accustomed to command. It is a +crack in the dike, and I do not like it. + +"But enough. I hear that you trussed Father Blackgown like a pigeon +for the spit the night that you went away. I would have given my best +tobacco box to have seen it. There was some excitement here over the +loss of the prisoner, but no talk of pursuit. Indeed, the Hurons +seemed relieved to have him spirited out of the way. Which is odd, for +they took great pains to obtain him. But I am wonted to the +unexpected; it is the usual that finds me unprepared. Even Father +Blackgown surprises me. He has not complained to me of you, though +heretofore I have found him as ready to shout his wrongs as a crow in a +cornfield. But again, enough. + +"And I have the honor to be, with great respect, monsieur, + +"Your very obedient servant, + +"ANTOINE DE LA MOTHE-CADILLAC." + + +I read the letter through twice. Then I turned to Singing Arrow. I +was glad she was a savage. If she had been white, man or woman, I +should have been obliged to go through a long explanation, and I was +not in the mood for it. Now savages are content to begin things in the +middle, and omit questions. It may be indolence with them, and it may +be philosophy. I have never decided to my satisfaction. But the fact +serves. + +"Do you think that you were followed?" I asked. + +The girl sat up and shook her head. "Only by the stars and the +clouds," she answered. + +I felt relieved. "And how did you happen to come this way?" I went on. +"What did they tell you at the Pottawatamie Islands?" + +She stopped to laugh. "That you went the other way," she replied, and +she swept her arm to the southwest. + +I shrugged my shoulders. "And you thought I lied to them?" + +She nodded her answer. "The bird who hides her nest cries and makes a +great noise and runs away from it," she explained. "You told all the +Pottawatamies who would listen that you were going southwest. So I +went southeast." + +I could afford to let her laugh at me. "We stopped at that island over +there," I said, without comment. "Now we will follow this shore line +for a distance south. You must go with us. Singing Arrow, did they +tell you at the islands that the English prisoner was a woman, and that +she is now my wife?" + +The girl did not answer nor look in my direction. She pulled her +blanket over her head, and sat as stiffly as a badger above his hole. +I could not determine whether the news of the marriage was a surprise +or not. It did not matter. I lit my pipe and let her work it out. + +"Are you coming?" I asked at last. "I must go back to the island now." + +She rose and pulled her blanket around her. She was typically Indian +at the moment, unreadable and cold. But she nodded in acquiescence and +went to her canoe. + +I found my own canoe and we paddled side by side. The sun was over the +horizon now and fish were jumping. I saw a great bass that must have +weighed five pounds spring his whole length out of the water for a fly. +A sportsman in France would have traveled leagues to have seen such a +fish, and here it lay ready for my hand. Perhaps after all there was +no need to search for reasons for the exultation that was possessing me. + +A few moments brought us to the island, and we rounded the point and +came into the cove. The little camp was awake and startled by my +absence. Pierre was searching the horizon from under a red, hairy +hand, and Labarthe was looking to the priming of his arquebus. Only +the woman sat steadfast. All this I saw at a glance. + +I rushed the canoes to the shore, and helped the Indian girl to alight +as I would have helped any woman. I gave one look at the men, and +said, "Be still," and then I led Singing Arrow to the woman. + +"Madame," I said, "here is the Indian girl who befriended you when you +were a prisoner. It was she who passed us last night. She comes to me +with documents from Cadillac, and I have great reason to be grateful to +her. I commend her to you, madame." + +I doubt that the woman heard much of my speech, though I made it +earnestly. She was looking at the Indian girl, and the Indian girl at +her. I should have liked cordiality between them, but I did not expect +it. The woman would do her best, but she would not know how. I had +come to think her gracious by nature, and she would treat this girl +with courtesy, but she was a great lady while Singing Arrow was a +squaw, and she would remember it. Yet Singing Arrow, even though she +might admit her inferiority to a white man, would think herself the +equal of any woman of whatever rank or race. I could not see how the +gulf could be bridged. + +But bridged it was, and that oddly. The woman stood for a moment half +smiling, and then suddenly tears gathered in her eyes. She put out her +hand to Singing Arrow, and the Indian took it, and they walked together +back into the trees. They could not understand each other, and I +wondered what they would do. But later I heard them laughing. + +Well, the woman was destined to surprise me, and she had done it again. +I had thought her too finely woven and strong of fibre to be easily +emotional. It was some hours before it came to me that she had not +been with another woman since the night the savages had found her in +the Connecticut farmhouse. All the world had been a foe to be feared +and parried except myself, and I had been a despot. Perhaps she did +not know herself. Perhaps she would welcome Benjamin Starling after +all. No matter what her horror of him, she could at least be natural +with him, if only to show her scorn. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE STORM + +We embarked in good season that morning and followed the line of the +peninsula in its slant to the southwest. It was a pleasant shore, +limestone-scarped and tree-bannered, and we paddled so near to it that +the squirrels scolded at us, and a daisy-spotted fawn crashed through +the young cedars and stared at us with shy eyes. The birds were +singing and calling like maids in a hayfield, and the woman sat with +her back straight and her eyes laughing, and imitated each new note as +the breeze brought it to her. She did it fairly well, but Singing +Arrow could have done it better. In my heart I commended the Indian +for sitting silent, for I knew that the vanity of her sex and the +inherent boastfulness of her savage blood must both be whispering to +her that this was the place to show her superiority. But she resisted. + +I had taken her in the canoe with the woman and myself, and putting +Pierre in her canoe had bidden him follow. I was well satisfied to +keep them apart for a time. Yet no sister of the Ursulines could have +been more exemplary with her glances than this Indian was just then. +She sat like a figure of destiny and watched the woman. Whether she +admired or not I should not know till I saw whether she intended to +imitate. + +Cadillac's letter lay heavy in my pocket that day and disinclined me to +speech. Should I show it to the woman and ask her what she would like +to do? And having asked her, should I let her preference warp my final +decision? I was not sure. The manner of my life had confirmed me in +my natural inclination to decide things for myself and take no counsel. +And now all my desires called out to me to destroy this letter and say +nothing. Why should I wish to meet Lord Starling? And by keeping out +of the way I should be playing into Cadillac's hands and therefore +furthering my own ends. Yet the woman! After all, Starling was her +cousin. Had she not the right to choose for herself whether she should +see him? My training and instinct said no to this last question. +Women were made to be cared for, at whatever cost, but not to be taken +into confidence as to ways and means. Still I had entered into a bond +with this woman. I breathed hard. I had always been restive under any +bond, though by nature plodding enough when it was removed. I was +aware that I was but sullen company while I rolled this matter in my +mind. + +The day was warm, and by afternoon soaring pinions of cloud pushed up +from the western horizon. I watched their white edges curl and +blacken, and when they began to be laced with red lightning I said to +the woman that we should have to land. + +"Though I hoped to make the Sturgeon Cove," I added idly. + +The breeze was rising, drawing sharp criss-cross furrows on the water, +and I noticed how it ruffled the woman's hair; her hair was like her +eyes, a warm red-brown. + +"What is Sturgeon Cove?" she asked. "Is it a bay,--a larger one than +we have passed?" + +I took a rough map from my wallet and handed it to her. "Much larger, +you see," I said. "It almost bisects the peninsula. Only the Sturgeon +portage, about a mile long, separates it from the lake of the Illinois. +We must be near it now." + +She gave but a look at the map, then glanced at the cloud-streaked west +and at the shore. + +"Try to make it. Try to reach Sturgeon Cove," she urged. + +I was thinking of something else, so I answered her only by a shake of +the head. Perhaps that angered her. At all events she smote her palms +together with a short, soft little clap, such as I use when I call my +dog. + +"I do not wish to land here," she said, throwing back her head at me +quite as she had done when I thought her a boy. "I wish to go on. Why +not?" + +I motioned Pierre to the shore. "Because you would get wet," I +answered stoically. + +She flushed as redly as if I had hurt her. "And if I did?" she cried. +"Better discomfort than this constant humiliation. Monsieur, I refuse +to be made a burden of in this fashion. It is not fair. You made your +plans to reach a certain point, and you would go on, rain or otherwise, +if it were not for me. For me, for me, for me! I am sick of the sound +of the words in my own brain. I am sick of the excuse. Each added +sacrifice you make for me weighs me like lead. It binds me. I cannot +endure the obligation. Believe me, monsieur." + +I had no choice but to believe her. Yet she stopped with a gasp of the +breath, as if she had said too much, or perhaps too little,--as if she +were dissatisfied. Well, I had but scant desire to reply. I should +have liked to walk away, and rebelled in my heart at our forced +nearness in the canoe. My feeling was not new. When I had thought her +a man she had antagonized me in spite of my interest; as a maid she had +troubled me, and now as my wife I found that she had already power to +wound. Still, with all my inner heat, I could look as it were in a +mirror and understand her unhappiness and vexation. She was trying to +act towards me with a man's fairness and detachment, but each move that +I made showed that I considered her solely as a woman and therefore an +encumbrance. Let her act with whatever bravery and wisdom she might, +her sex still enmeshed us like a silken trap. We could not escape it. +And it was a fetter. Mask it as courteously as I would, the fact +remained that it was undoubtedly a fetter. I felt a certain compassion +for her and her forced dependence, and said to myself that I would hide +my own soreness. But her words had bitten, and I am not a patient man. + +I turned my canoe inland, and looked to it that the others did the +same. Then I leaned toward her. + +"No, we will land here," I said. "Madame, I am frequently forced to +look behind your words, which are sharp, and search for your meaning, +which is admirable. You resent being an encumbrance. May I suggest +that you will be less one if you follow my plans without opposition? I +mean no discourtesy, madame, when I say that no successful expedition +can have two heads in control." + +With all her great self-discipline in some directions, she had none in +others, and I braced myself for her retort. But none came. Instead +she looked at me almost wistfully. + +"I lose my temper when I wish I did not," she said. "But I should like +to help you, monsieur." + +I laid down my paddle. "Help is a curious quantity," I replied. +"Especially here in the wilderness where what we say counts for so +little and what we are for so much. I think,--it comes to me +now,--madame, you have given me strength more than once when you did +not suspect it. So you need not try to help me consciously. But now I +need your counsel. Will you read this?" and I took Cadillac's letter +from my pocket and handed it to her. + +She examined the seal with amazement as I had done, then looked at +Singing Arrow. "The Indian brought this? It must be very important. +Ought I---- Is it right for me to see it, monsieur?" + +I laughed. I looked off at the piling thundercaps and the ruffling +water, and the exhilaration of the coming storm whipped through me. +There was a pleasant tang to life. + +"Read it, yes," I insisted. "You are Madame de Montlivet. No one can +have a better right. Read it after we land." + +It took some moments to make a landing, for the waves were already high +and the shore rough. In spite of ourselves we tore the canoes on +hidden rocks. We unloaded the cargo and had things snug and tidy by +the time the first great drops plumped down upon us. We worked like +ants, and I did not look at the woman. I knew that she was reading the +letter, and I had no wish to spy. + +But when I went to her there was no letter in sight. I did not stop to +talk, but I wrapped her in the cloak that Onanguisse had given her, and +wound her still further with blankets. "You will be cool enough in a +few minutes," I assured her, and I made a nest for her in a thicket of +young pines. She obeyed me dumbly, but with a certain gentleness, a +sort of submission. As she gazed up at me with her brown face and +inscrutable eyes, my hands were not quite steady. Heretofore I had +felt her power; now I felt only her inexperience, her dependence. +Child, woman, sphinx! What should I do with her? I turned away. The +rain was upon us in earnest. + +I looked for my crew. The men were curled under trees, but Singing +Arrow had used more craft. She had hidden herself under her light +canoe,--which she had first secured with pegs that it might not blow +away,--and she lay as compact and comfortable as a tree-housed grub. I +lifted the corner of the canoe and peered at her, whereat she giggled +happily, serene in the thought that I was wet while she was dry. She +was as restful to the brain as a frolicking puppy, and I shook my head +at her to hear her giggle again. I was about to wonder whether she had +ever known awe of anything, but just then the thunder, which had been +merely growling, barked out like a howitzer above us, and she covered +her head and screamed like any of her sex. + +The thunder sent me back to the woman. I crept, wet as I was, into her +pine-needled hollow, and started to ask if she were afraid. But the +question died at sight of her. She was propped on her elbows, and had +parted the low boughs in front of her that she might look out at the +storm. She turned at sound of me, and the blood was in her cheeks as I +felt it in mine. + +"Come," she cried with her motion. + +I went and lay close beside her, peering, as she did, through the +trees. The world was all wind and red light and churning water. I +could feel her quick breathing. + +"I can hear the spirit of the wilderness crying," she said to me. The +lightning played over her face and eyes, and they shone like flame. + +I laid a hand on her wet blankets. "Has the rain soaked through?" + +But she did not listen. The exultation in her look I have seen +sometimes in the face of a young priest; I have also seen it in a +savage dancer. It is all one. It is the leaping response of the soul +to the call of a great freedom. Storm was summoning storm. I found +the woman's hand, and lay with it in mine. + +She remembered me again after a time. "Does it call to you?" she cried. + +I could feel the blood racing in her palm. "As it does to you," I +answered, and I lay still, and let the storm riot in me, and around me, +with her hand held close. + +We could not speak for some time. The thunder was constant, and the +play of the lightning was like the dazzle of a fencer's sword. Mingled +with the thunder came the slap of frothing water and the whine of +bending trees. The wind was ice to the cheeks. + +At the first lull the woman turned to me. "If you had followed my +wishes we should have been drowned." + +I nodded. I had no wish to speak. The storm in me was not lessening. +I kept the woman's hand and was swept on by the tempest. + +And the woman, too, lay silent. I saw her look at me once, and look +away. And then, because I could think more coherently, it came to me +that she had changed. The change had come since she had read +Cadillac's letter. She had said nothing, but she was different. What +did it mean? Was she natural at last because she thought succor was +near? I was not ready to know. The moments that I had now were mine. +Ten minutes later they might, if she decreed, belong to Benjamin +Starling. + +The storm passed as swiftly as the shifting of a tableau. The rain +stopped, not lingeringly, but as if a key had been turned, and cracks +came in the clouds like clefts in black ice and showed the blue beyond. +In five minutes the sun was shining. We all crept out from under trees +and canoes, and shook ourselves like drenched fowls. + +It was magic the way the world changed. The wind died, and the sun +shone low and yellow, and a robin began to sing. The water was still +white and fretting, and the sand was strewn with torn leaves, but +otherwise there was peace. I told Pierre to take one of the men and +find dry fuel for a fire, and Labarthe to take the other and attend to +gumming the canoes. Then I went to the woman, who had slipped dry and +red-cheeked from her wrappings, and was walking in the sun. + +"Well, Madame Montlivet," I said, with a bow, "what shall we do about +Monsieur Cadillac's letter?" + +There was laughter in my voice, and it confused her. "What shall we +do?" she echoed doubtfully. "Did you mean to say 'we'?" + +I bowed again. "'We' assuredly. It must be a joint decision. Come, +it is for you to declare your mind. Do we seek Lord Starling, do we +hide from him, or do we stand still and let Fate throw the dice for us? +What do you wish, madame?" + +She looked at me with a little puzzled withdrawal. "Why do you laugh?" +she asked. + +I was loath to vex her. But, indeed, I could not check the tide of +joyous excitement that was surging through me. "I do not know quite +why I laugh," I answered truly. "Perhaps it is because the sun is +shining, and because life looks so fair and rich and full of +possibilities. But, madame, we have been tragic too long; it irks us +both. Tell me, now. It rests with you. Shall we paddle northwest and +search for your cousin, Lord Starling?" + +She thought a moment. "You wish it?" + +"No, madame." + +She turned away. "Then why ask me? You said there could not be two +heads in this command." + +I sobered. "Now that was a cat's scratch," I rebuked. "You have never +done that before." + +The gentleness of her look made me ashamed. "You are suspicious of +me," she said a little sadly. "That was not a scratch, monsieur. I +said what I mean; I prefer to leave the decision in your hands." + +"But your wish?" + +"It is confused, monsieur." + +"But your sense of justice in the matter?" + +She was silent a moment, and walked up and down. "I have been trying +to see the right ever since I read the letter," she said quietly. +"This is the best answer I can make. I think that we had better avoid +meeting Lord Starling, monsieur." + +I stepped to her side and matched my pace to hers. The robin had been +joined by his mate, and they were singing. "Why, madame?" I asked her, +and when she was still silent I persisted. "Why, madame?" + +She lifted grave eyes to me. "I think it will be wise to keep Lord +Starling in the wilderness as long as possible," she answered. "If he +does not find me it may be that he will keep on searching. He may +not,--but again he may. On the other hand, if he finds me he will +assuredly go home." + +"And if he does go home? I assure you the wilderness is no sweeter in +my eyes while he is here." + +She handed me Cadillac's letter. "I think that you know what I mean," +She said. "Your commandant is a wise man. Monsieur, I do not +understand Lord Starling's purpose in this journey, but I am afraid +that Monsieur de la Mothe-Cadillac is right. My cousin may be treating +secretly with the Indians. He is a capable man, and not easy to read. +I do not know why he should be here." + +I looked down at her. "But I know. He is here to find you. Have you +forgotten what I said to you yesterday morning? He will not rest till +he has found you. Ought we to save him anxiety? I can understand that +he has suffered." + +But she shook her head, and her eyes as she looked up at me showed the +deep sadness that always seemed, while it lasted, to be too rooted ever +to be erased. + +"You are an idealist, monsieur. You believe in man's constancy as I do +not. I cannot believe that I am the moving cause of Lord Starling's +journey. He would undoubtedly like to find me, for I am of his house +and of use to him, but he has other purposes. Of that I am sure." + +I grew cruel because I was glad; there is nothing so ruthless as +happiness. "And you would thwart his purposes, madame?" I cried. + +She looked at me coldly. "I will not be used as a tool against you," +she said. + +"And that is all?" + +"It is enough. I have said this to you many times. Why do you make me +say it again? I have undertaken to do something, and I will carry it +through. I will not lend myself to any plot against your interests. I +will not. So long as we are together, I will play the game fair." + +"And when we are no longer together?" + +She pushed out her hands. "I do not know. I am glad that you asked me +that. Monsieur, if any chance should free us from each other, if we +should reach Montreal in safety, why, then, I do not know. I come of +an ambitious race. It may be that I shall use the information that I +have. I love my country as you do yours, and when a woman has had some +beliefs taken from her there is little remaining her but ambition. So +let me know as little as possible of your plans, for I may use my +knowledge. I give you warning, monsieur." + +The happiness in me would not die, and so, perhaps, I smiled. She +looked at me keenly. + +"You think that I am vaunting idly," she said. "Perhaps I am. I do +not know what I shall do. But, monsieur, for your own sake do not +underestimate my capacity for doing you harm. I mean that as a gauge." + +She stood against the sunset, and her delicate height and proud head +showed like a statue's. I stooped and lifted an imaginary glove from +the sand. + +"I take your gauge," I said. "But I find it a small and delicate +gauntlet for so warlike a purpose. May I wear it next my heart, +madame?" + +She looked at me proudly. "I am serious," she said. + +"And I take you seriously," I rejoined. I stepped to her and let my +hand touch hers. "You wrong me. I find that I take you very seriously +indeed. Believe me. But I have always lived in the present. Come, we +have been grave long enough. Let us be children and take the passing +moment. Madame, Montreal is very far away." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +AFTER THE STORM + +We slept at that place that night, and the stars came out clear, and +the water on the sand sang like a harp played by the wind. I slept, +but I dreamed. I thought that Lord Starling came to me, and that the +woman went away. And then the dream shifted, and I stood in a strange, +barren mist-world, and I was alone. I saw the awful loneliness of +creation, and immensity stretched around me. I traveled through +infinite spaces of void and blackness, and found no sound of voice or +life, yet all the time, welling high within me, was a tide, the +fullness of which I had never known in my waking hours. All the +strength that I had hoarded, all the desire for love that I had pushed +aside, all of the fierce commotions of unrest that mark us from the +brute, stirred in me till I felt as if I were suffocating, and cried +out for a helping hand. But I was alone, and gray wastes surrounded +me, and my surge of feeling beat itself out against desolation. I woke +with sweat on my forehead. + +I woke to a black night. The stars looked cold, and the men beside me +lay as if dead. I looked up and watched the roll of the planets. The +mystery of infinity which lies naked at midnight in the wilderness +drives some men mad. Heretofore I had been untouched by it except with +delight. Now I crept cautiously to my feet and went softly to the +woman. + +I know that I stepped without sound, but as I stood for a moment +looking down at the couch of boughs where she lay I heard a guarded +whisper. + +"Monsieur, monsieur." + +I bent over her. Her eyes were not only open, but wakeful, and her +small face looked white against the dark blanket. + +"What is it, monsieur?" she whispered. + +I knelt that I might answer softly. "I woke, and thought you were in +danger. I came to look at you and be sure that all was well. You do +not sleep, madame?" + +She shook her head. "I slept, but I dreamed. And you, monsieur?" + +"I, too, have dreamed." + +I thought that she smiled at me, though her face, when I leaned to see +it clearly, blurred into the dark. + +"Will you sleep the rest of the night within sound of my voice?" she +asked, with a little tremble in her whisper. "The wilderness tonight +is like that storm. Its greatness terrifies me. Do you think that all +is well, monsieur?" + +I was glad that she could not see my face. "Yes, I think that all is +very well," I answered. "Blessedly well. Sleep, now, madame. I shall +stay here, and your whisper would wake me. Is there terror in the +wilderness now?" + +Again she shook her head. "No," she whispered. + +I lay beside her couch and cushioned my head in my arm. I had answered +her truly. All was very well with me, for at last I saw clearly; I +knew myself. The dream, the night, and something that I could not +name, had stripped me naked to my own understanding. I felt as if, man +that I had thought myself, I had played with toys until this moment, +and that now, for the first time, I was conscious of my full power for +joy or suffering. I looked up through the star spaces and was grateful +for knowledge, for knowledge even if it brought pain. + +I had not lain this way long when I heard her stir. + +"Monsieur," came her whisper. + +I lifted myself to my knees. "Yes, madame." + +"You were not asleep?" + +"No, madame." + +"Monsieur, I was loath to disturb you, but I cannot sleep. Tell me. +Suppose that Lord Starling should find us. Will he have power to take +me?" + +"Away from your husband? How could he, madame?" + +She stirred, and turned her face from me, even though I could not see +it in the dark. + +"But he has a warrant," she whispered. "The letter said that you must +deliver me to my cousin if we were found. What will be done with you, +monsieur, if you refuse to obey?" + +Then I bent close and let her hear me laugh softly. + +"I know of no warrant that applies to you," I murmured. "Cadillac's +letter mentioned an Englishman. I know of none such. I travel with a +woman, my wife, and commandants have naught to do with us. Was that +what was troubling you, madame?" + +She bowed, and her breath came unevenly. Her right hand lay outside +the blanket, and I bent and touched it with my lips. + +"How you hate Lord Starling! How you hate him!" I whispered. "I +wonder, can you love as singly? Can you love with as little care for +self and comfort and for all the fat conveniences of life? Madame, you +are a willful child to lie here and tilt at shadows when you should be +garnering strength by sleep. I promised you my sword and my name, and +I agreed that they should both be yours till of your own wish you +should send me away. Had you forgotten that I promised? I had not." + +I had slipped to my knees again and rested with my forehead on her +hand. I could feel her other hand stray toward me. + +"No," she whispered. "No, I had not forgotten, but the dark and a +sudden loneliness made me a coward. Thank you. It is over now and I +will sleep. Monsieur, my partner, I will say good-night, and this time +I will not call you." + +But I rested a moment longer on my knees with my head against her palm. +Then I rose. + +"Partners, perhaps," I said softly. "Yet more than that. Madame, are +we not like pilgrims groping our way together on a dark road? We +cannot see far ahead, but there is a light in the distance. I think +that we shall reach it. Good-night. We shall both sleep now, madame." + +But she slept and I did not. It was nearly day when I closed my eyes +again, yet I did not find the moments long. + +The next morning was quiet and the sky clear. I had read my maps +rightly, and once embarked, an hour of paddling brought us to Sturgeon +Cove. It opened before us suddenly, a wedge of flecked turquoise laid +across the shaded greens of the peninsula. As we entered it a flock of +white gulls rose from the rocky shore and flew before us. The air, +rain washed, was so limpid that it seemed a marvel that it could +sustain the heavy-pinioned birds, but they moved in sure curves and +seemed to bear us with them. I pointed the woman's glance toward them. + +"An omen. We shall follow them and rest here. It is our home." + +We nosed our way, with leisurely paddles, close to the northern shore. +The land sloped gently from the beach, and the quivering water, a faded +green from the tree shadows, crawled over gravel that was patterned +with the white of quartz and with the pomegranate of carnelian. It was +a jeweled pavement, and it led to forest aisles where cathedral lights +splashed through the trees. But I would not stop. The gulls were +still leading. + +The bay narrowed, and the shores pressed close to us, with compact +ranks of cedars held spearwise. Yet we pushed on, and the water path +spread out once more, a final widening. We saw before us the rounded +end of the bay, and the neck of land that formed the Sturgeon portage. +The woman looked at me. + +"What now, monsieur?" + +But I smiled at her with my conceit untroubled. I had seen reeds close +to the northern shore. "Halt!" I cried to the canoes. + +We lay quiet a moment, and the birds glancing back at us found us +suddenly harmless. The reeds under them were swarming with young fish. +The gulls looked down and squawked in a hungry chorus. In a moment +they lighted, balancing their great wings like reefing sails. + +I laughed as I looked at the woman. It was a small triumph, but +intoxication breeds easy laughter. I had been drinking deep that +morning of a sparkling happiness more disturbing than any wine. + +We sent the canoes shoreward into the curve where the reeds lay. The +stiff green withes rattled against our canoes like hail, and gave +warning of our approach for a half mile distant. I nodded my inner +approval. + +"The gulls are wise," I said to the woman. "We could not plan a better +water defense to our camp." + +The grass came down to the water, and we pulled the canoes over short +turf and into beds of white blossoms. A cloud of butterflies rose to +greet us; they too were satin-white, the color that a bride should +wear, and they fluttered over us without fear. The smell of the +grasses rose like incense. With all the light and perfume there was a +sense of quiet, of deep content and peace. Even the woods that fringed +the meadow seemed kindly. They did not have the sombre awe of the +heavy timber, but looked sun-drenched and gay. + +"We shall stay here," I said. "Unload the canoes." + +Five men with good sinews, some understanding, and well-sharpened axe +blades, can make a great change in the forest in one day. When the +sunset found us I had a fortified house built for my wife. It was +framed of fragrant pine, and occupied the extremity of a spit of land +that lay next the meadow. Its door opened on the water, and I made the +opening wide so that the stars might look in at night. All about the +sides and rear of the house were laid boughs, one upon another, and on +the top of this barricade was stretched a long cord threaded with +hawk's bells. The lodges for myself and the men we placed in the rear, +and behind them we laid still another wall of brush to separate us from +the forest. I was satisfied with the defenses. With the reeds in +front and the brush behind, any intruder would sound his own alarm. + +The woman took Singing Arrow and went to her house early that night, +but I sat late over my charts and journal. I had much to study and +more to plan. + +Yet I was abroad the next morning while the stars were still reflected +in the bay. Labarthe was with me, and we took Singing Arrow's light +canoe and packed it with supplies and merchandise. Then we breakfasted +on meal and jerked meat and were ready to start. + +But the rest of the men were not yet astir, and the woman's house was +silent. I walked to it and stood irresolute. I disliked to wake her. +Yet I could not leave her without some message. But while I pondered I +heard her step behind me. She came up from the water, and she looked +all vigor and morning gladness. + +"Why the canoe so early?" she called. "Do we have fish for breakfast?" + +I took her hand. "Come with me to the water." I led her to the canoe +and pointed out the bales of supplies. "You see we are ready for work. +We shall be back in a few days." + +She dropped my hand. "Then why did you build that house?" + +"Why not, madame?" + +"But you say that we are to go this morning." + +"I must go, madame." + +"And you intend to leave me here?" + +"Why, yes, madame." + +"But you said 'we.'" + +I looked some amazement. "I take Labarthe with me. I leave three men +with you on guard. There is nothing to fear." + +And then she threw back her head. "I do not think that I am afraid," +she said more quietly. "But--I was not prepared for this. It had not +occurred to me that you would go away." + +I stopped a moment. "I do not go for pleasure. Indeed, I cannot +imagine a fairer spot in which to linger and forget the world. But did +you think that I would sit in idleness, madame?" + +She looked down. "I do not know that I thought at all about it. It +has gone on like a play, a dream. Perhaps I thought it would continue. +Your plan is to travel from tribe to tribe, and come back here at +intervals?" + +"That is my plan. I shall buy furs and cache them here. I shall try +not to be away more than a week at a time. I regret that I surprised +you. I did not think but that you understood." + +She stood biting her lips and smiling to herself in half-satiric, +half-whimsical fashion. "It says little for my intelligence that I was +unprepared. You are a man, not a courtier. I should have known that +you would not waste an hour. I wish that I might go with you." + +"Madame, I wish it, too." + +She looked up more briskly. "But that would be impossible. Have you +instructions for me, monsieur?" + +"Madame, if you are afraid, come with me." + +"I am not afraid if you say that it is safe, monsieur." + +"Thank you, madame. I think that it is entirely safe. Pierre is a +good deal of a fool and more of a knave, but in some few respects there +is no one like him; he is a rock. You are my wife and in his charge. +He will guard you absolutely." + +"Are we in danger of attack?" + +"I can imagine no possible reason for attack, else I should not leave +you. The Indians are friendly. One thing troubles me. Your +cousin---- Should"---- + +She looked up. "Should Lord Starling find me?" she completed. "Well, +he would tarry here until you came. He would at least show that +courtesy. I can promise as much as that for the family name, monsieur." + +I smiled at her. "I shall await the meeting," I said with unction. I +motioned Labarthe to the paddle, and I kissed the woman's hand. + +"I salute your courage. I shall see you within the week, madame." + +She looked straight at me. "And until then, good fortune." + +But I paused. "Wish me opportunity. That is all that I ask from you +or of you,--opportunity. Good-by for a week, madame." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +IN WHICH I USE OPPORTUNITY + +I squatted beside many camp fires in the next week. I sat in the +flattened cones of the Chippewas' tepees and smoked innumerable pipes +of rank tobacco with the old men. I traded some, but talked more, and +at the end of the week I started home. I waited for a pleasant day and +a westerly wind, for the small canoe was perilously laden with skins. +There was scarcely room for Labarthe and myself to crowd down on our +knees and use our paddles. + +We slipped into Sturgeon Cove late in the afternoon, and swept with the +wind up the stretches of the bay to the camping ground. Summer was at +flood tide, and the air was pungent and the leaves shining. The sunset +shone through tattered ends of cloud, so that the west was hung with +crimson banners. It was my first homecoming. + +Before we reached the camp I saw the woman. She had strayed down the +shore to the west,--too far for safety, I thought,--and was standing +alone on the sand, looking toward the sunset. Her head was back, and +her arms flung out to the woods and the shining sky. I have sometimes +found myself stretching my own arms in just that fashion when I have +been alone and have felt something pressing within me that was too +large for speech. I motioned Labarthe to ship his paddle that I might +look. The western glow was full upon the woman, and her lips were +parted. The open sleeves of her skin blouse fell away from her arms, +which had grown gently rounded since I saw her first. I could not see +her eyes, but she looked somewhere off into the untraveled west,--the +west that was the portal of my enterprise. What was her thought? I +must not let myself trap it unaware. I gave a long, low call; the call +of the loon as he skirts the marshes in the twilight. + +She turned instantly and saw us. I bent forward. The drabbled plume +of my hat swept the water, and I heard Labarthe curse under his breath, +and beg me remember that the canoe was laden. But just then I had no +caution in me. + +The woman's arms dropped. She had a moment of indecision, and she +stood looking at me with the sunset in her face and eyes. Then she +suddenly thrust out both hands towards me across the stretch of water. +I could see her smooth-skinned brown fingers, and one wore my ring. +She bade me welcome. I bent to my paddle, and would have crashed the +canoe up to the shore. + +But she forestalled me. She was already on her way back to the camp, +and if she knew that I had started toward her she did not let me see. +So I had, perforce, to follow. She walked with the free, gliding step +of a woman whose foot had been trained on polished surfaces. I watched +her, and let Labarthe paddle our way through the reeds. + +We reached the camp, deafened by Pierre's bellow of greeting. The +woman had kept pace with us, and stood waiting for us to disembark. +She was breathing quickly and the blood was in her brown cheeks; her +great eyes were frankly opened and shining. I pushed by the men and +bent to kiss her hand. + +"Madame, thank you for my welcome home." + +She bowed, and I caught the perfume of a rose on her breast. +"Monsieur, we are all rejoiced to see you safe." Her tone took, +half-whimsically, the note of court and compliment. The fingers that I +still held were berry stained. She showed them to me with a laugh and +a light word, and so made excuse to draw them away. Her hair had grown +long enough to blow into her eyes, and she smoothed a soft loose wave +of it as she questioned me about my voyage. + +I was new to the wonder of seeing her there, so answered her stupidly. +For all my day-dreams of the week that I had been away I was not +prepared for her. And indeed she had altered. The strain of fear and +incessant watchfulness was removed, and with the lessening of that +tension had come a pliancy of look and gesture, a richness of tone that +found me unprepared. I made but a poor figure. It was as well that +work clamored at me, and that I had to turn away and direct the men. + +We ate our supper at the time of the last daylight, and the +whippoorwills were calling and the water singing in the reeds. It was +a silent meal, but I sat beside the woman, and when it was over I drew +her with me to the shore. It was very still. Fireflies danced in the +grasses, and the stars pricked out mistily through a gauze of cloud. I +wrapped the woman in her fur coat, and bade her sit, while I stretched +myself at her feet. Then I turned to her. + +"Madame, have you questions for me that you did not wish the men to +hear?" + +She sat very quietly, but I knew that her hand, which was within touch +of mine, grew suddenly rigid. + +"Monsieur, you heard nothing of Lord Starling?" + +I touched her hand lightly. "Nothing, madame. I have no news." + +"Then matters stand just as they did a week ago?" + +I hesitated. "As concerns Lord Starling, yes. As concerns +ourselves---- Madame, I carry a lighter heart than I did. All this +week I have feared that you were fretting at the loneliness and the +rough surroundings. But I find you serene and the surface of life +smooth. It is a gallant spirit that you bring to this situation. I +thank you, madame." + +She did not speak for a moment, so that I wondered if I had vexed her. +I looked up straight into her great eyes that were full on me, and +there was something disquietingly alight in her glance, a flicker of +that lightning that had played between us on the day of the storm. + +"Monsieur!" she cried, with a little sobbing laugh. "I beg you never +to thank me--for anything. The stream of gratitude must always run +from me to you. I have not been serene because of any will of mine. +It has been instinctive. I can sometimes carry out a fixed purpose, +but I do it stiffly, inflexibly, not as you do, with a laugh and a +shrug, monsieur. No, no! My serenity has not been calculated. I have +been--I have been almost happy. It is strange, but it is true." + +I drew my hand away from her finger tips, for my own were shaking. +"Madame, what makes you happy?" + +She looked down at me with frank seriousness, but her eyes still kept +their sweet, strange brightness; she pressed her palms together as she +always did when much in earnest. + +"Monsieur, is it so strange after all? Think of the wonder of what I +see about me! The great stars, the dawns, and the strange waters that +go no one knows where. I have lived all my life in courts and have not +felt trammeled by them, but now---- Monsieur, there is a freedom, yes, +and a happiness stirring in me that I have not known. I wonder if you +understand?" + +I watched the starlight draw elfin lines across her face, and my heart +suddenly cried through my tongue words that my brain would have +forbidden. + +"I understand this at least. Madame, you talk of happiness. I am +finding happiness at this moment that I never felt at court,--no, nor +in the wilderness till now." + +She did not draw back nor protest, but she looked at me with wistful +gravity. + +"Monsieur---- Monsieur"---- + +"I am your servant, madame." + +She halted. "This is a masque, a comedy," she stumbled. "This--this +life in the greenwood. Does it not seem a fantasy?" + +"You seem very real to me, madame." + +"Monsieur, I tell you, it is a masque. Will you not help me play it as +such?" + +"You treat it as a masque in your own heart, madame?" + +She turned her face into the shadow. "I eat, I sleep, I laugh with the +birds, and I play with Singing Arrow. I do not look ahead." She rose. +"Play with me. Play it is a dream, monsieur." + +I rose and stepped beside her toward her cabin. "I am a man," I said, +with a short laugh of my own. "I cannot spin words nor cheat myself. +But I shall not distress you. Do not fear me, madame." + +But her step lingered. "You leave us soon?" + +"At dawn to-morrow." + +"Monsieur! And you go"---- + +"To the Winnebagoes. I shall return in a week." + +She clasped her hands behind her as if her white cloak bound her. "To +the Winnebagoes,--to another tribe of Indians! Are you sure that they +are friendly? I forget that there are Indians in the forest, since I +see none here. Ah, you must sleep now if you are to rise so early. +Good-night, and--thank you, monsieur. Good-night." I had hardly bowed +to her in turn before her long light step had brought her to her door. + +And then I went back to work. The furs had been sorted, labeled, and +cached; the canoe had been dried, and its splints examined and new +bales of merchandise had been made up for the trip on the morrow. But +there remained much writing and figuring to be gone over. It seemed as +if I had but closed my eyes when Labarthe touched me on the shoulder +and told me it was dawn. + +And out in the dawn I found the woman. She had seen to it that the +whole camp was astir, and the fire was crackling and the kettle already +puffing steam. The morning was austere and gray-veiled, so that the +red blaze was like the cheer of home. We ate with laughter, and sleepy +birds scolded in the thickets. The woman sparkled with dainty +merriment that held my thanks at bay. It was only when she waved her +adieus at the beach that she dropped her foils. + +"I shall pray for fair winds, monsieur," she called. + +I looked back at her across the widening water. "Madame, can you hear +me? The wind I pray for will blow me back to you." + +Metaphor aside, it was a favorable day and the breeze was with us. We +pushed up a tarpaulin on our paddles for a square sail, and covered the +distance to the west shore of La Baye in a few hours. Before night we +were lifting the rush mats that hung before the reed-thatched lodges of +the Winnebagoes. + +And here for seven days I plied my trade. A man has many coats and all +may fit him. The one that I wore in those days showed the bells and +ribands of the harlequin, but there was chain armor underneath. I +counted my results as satisfactory when I started home. + +We did not reach the camp on this second homecoming till after the +stars were out. That left me too few hours for a large labor, and I +had but hurried greetings from the woman while all the camp looked on. +The men were sleek from idleness, and I had need to goad them with word +and eye. It was late before I could linger at the woman's cabin and +beg a word. She sat with Singing Arrow, watching the soft night, and +again her first question was of her cousin. + +"You have heard nothing of Lord Starling?" + +Was this fear of him or a covert wish to meet him? "Nothing, madame," +I replied. "But I have been to the south far out of your cousin's way. +I go next to the Malhominis. I think I shall certainly hear tidings of +him there." + +"You go to-morrow?" + +"I must, madame. Madame, I have been anxious about you. Will you +promise me not to stray alone from the camp?" + +She left the cabin and came and stood beside me in the quiet and +starshine. She looked off at the forest. + +"Is there danger around us, monsieur?" + +I followed her look back into the dark timber. We both hushed our +breathing till we heard the moan of the water and the lament of some +strange night bird. The woman was so small, and yet I left her in the +wilderness without me! + +"Keep close to the camp," I said hoarsely. "No, I know of no danger. +But keep close to the camp." + +Her glance came back to me. "Ah, you do think there is danger! But, +monsieur, of yourself---- If there is peril for me there must be more +for you." + +She looked at me fully, with no fear in her eyes, but with quick, +intelligent concern. She stood beside me in the dusk, as wife should +stand with husband, and feared for my safety and forgot her own. Yet I +dared not touch her hand. I lifted my sword and slammed it in its +scabbard. + +"There is no danger," I said, with stupid brusqueness. "I am +over-anxious. I bid you good-night, madame." + +I went to the Malhominis with haste pushing me, for I hoped for news of +Starling. I pressed forward, yet I recoiled. There would be +cross-threads to untangle when I met my wife's cousin. + +It was wonderful voyaging to the Malhominis. Their village was near +the mouth of a river, and they were close bound with great rice swamps +that gave them their name. Our low canoe burrowed through a tunnel of +green as we nosed our way up to their camp. Birds fluttered in the +tangle, and fish bubbled to the surface under our paddles. I did not +wonder that I found the tribe as well fed as summer beavers. But I +learned nothing from them. They were a good-natured people, as running +over with talk as idle women, and they assured me that I was the first +white man they had seen since the moon of worms. We talked of the +Huron situation at Michillimackinac, but they said nothing of having +seen a warrior of that tribe, so I made sure that Pemaou had not been +with them. I swallowed relief and disappointment. They said that a +small company of Sacs was encamped to the north, and that Father Nouvel +was with them. So after a few days I went on. + +A waft of fetid air on a hot day will bring the smell of that Sac camp +to me even now. The Sacs were a migratory, brutish people, who +snatched at life red-handed and growling, and as I squatted in their +dirty hovels, I lost, like a dropped garment, all sense of the wonder +and freedom of my wilderness life. Suddenly all the forest seemed +squalid, and a longing for the soft ease and cleanliness of +civilization came on me like a wave. But I hid the feeling, and +lingered, though my welcome was but slight. Even my small cask of +brandy failed to buy their smiles, and it was only when I talked of war +that they listened. They were a useless people on the water, for they +could not handle canoes, but land warfare was their meat. So I talked +long. + +I found Father Nouvel among them, his delicate old face shining white +and serene amid their grime. I fell upon him eagerly, but he could +tell me nothing. He had left the Pottawatamies the day after the +wedding, and had heard no rumors of any Englishman. I did not take him +into my confidence. He had outlived the time when the abstract terms +"ambition" and "patriotism" had meaning to him. The story of my hopes +would have tinkled in his ears like the blarings of a child's trumpet. +But in one matter he questioned me. + +"Your wife,--should you not have brought her with you, monsieur?" + +I felt piqued. "But her comfort, Father Nouvel!" + +He looked me over. "I think somehow that she would prefer your company +to her own comfort," he said, and when I did not answer he looked +troubled. When he bade me good-by, he spoke again. + +"Your wife came strangely near my heart. You are giving her a hard +life. You will be patient with her, monsieur?" + +I bowed, for I did not wish to answer. Mine was a real marriage to +Father Nouvel. I thought of the look in the priest's eyes as he made +us man and wife, and of the voices of the Indian women as they chanted +of life and marriage, and I shut my teeth on a sudden feeling of +bitterness. A man may be counted rich yet know himself to be a pauper. +I never saw Father Nouvel again. If he were living now I would go far +to meet him. + +It was a long day's travel back to Sturgeon Cove, and night had fallen +before we wound our passage around the curves of the bay and saw the +clear eye of the evening fire burning steadily on the shore. Our +double trip had taken eleven days, and for me the time had lagged. I +had carried an unreasoning weight of oppression, and the shout that I +gave at sight of the black figures around the blaze was an outburst of +relief. + +My company flung themselves at the shore, and all talked at once. + +"For three days we have watched," Singing Arrow scolded. + +The woman stood near, and I went to her. "Have you watched for three +days?" I asked, with my lips on her hand. + +"Yes," she said, and then I felt ashamed, for her eyes looked worn and +troubled. + +"Forgive me, madame," I murmured, though I scarcely knew for what, and +I felt embarrassed and without words. + +"I will stay here to-morrow," I said stupidly, and when she said that +she was glad, it did not seem to me that she meant it. I saw her no +more that night. + +But with the fresh morning I forgot all chill. We lingered over a +breakfast of broiled bass, and the woman showed me a canoe that Simon +had made for her. Simon was the deft-fingered member of my crew, and +he had fashioned a fairy craft. I saw that it would carry two, and I +said to the woman that we would take it, and have a day of idleness +together. I feared she might demur, but she did not. Indeed, she +suddenly laughed out like a child without much reason, and there was +that in the sound that satisfied me, until I swore at the men and their +blundering to keep down my own joy. + +We took materials for lunch and started before the dew was dry. The +woman showed me her new skill with the paddle, and I praised her +without care for my conscience. We went slowly and we talked much. +Yet we talked only of the birds and the woods and the paddling. Never +of ourselves. + +At noon we landed in a pocket of an inlet on the south side of the cove +toward its mouth. There was a wonderful meadow there with tiger lilies +burning like blood and a giant sycamore leaning to the water. I cooked +a venison steak on hot stones, and we had maize cakes and wild berries +and water from a spring. We sat alone at meat as we had never done. + +After lunch the woman sat under the sycamore and I lay at her feet. I +looked up at her till her eyes dropped. + +"Madame," I whispered, "madame, you were vexed with me last night." + +She forced her glance to mine. "Monsieur, I had been terribly anxious +for three days. When I saw you"---- + +A sun ray fell across her face, and I took my hat and held it between +her and the light. "You did not finish," I said. "I will help you. +When you saw that I was safe you were vexed that I had not come earlier +and so saved you anxiety? Is that what you were about to say, madame?" + +She turned to smile and shake her head at my seriousness. She fought +down her rising color and held her head like a gallant boy. + +"I was unreasonable," she said. "Please forget it. Did your trading +prosper, monsieur?" + +But I would not shift my eyes. "I shall try not to vex you again in +that way. I did not think--except of my own anxiety. Let me tell you +what I have been doing. I have been trading, yes, but I have also"---- + +"Careful, monsieur!" + +"I wish you to know. Madame, I am succeeding in my intriguing among +the tribes. I talk more than I trade. You would smile at my rhetoric +and call me a mountebank, but I am succeeding. I tell the tribes that +when more than one Englishman reaches here the whole race will follow +and will overflow the hunting grounds as a torrent does the lowlands. +I tell them the English will bring the Iroquois. I show them that the +French are their only protection. They listen, for what I say is not +new. It has been talked around their fires for a long time, but the +tribes are not powerful enough to act alone, and they have lacked a +leader who could unite them. I think that they will follow me if I +call them to war, madame!" + +She looked at me steadily. "War upon whom, monsieur?" + +"War upon the Iroquois. Upon the English if they venture near." + +"And you tell me this because"---- + +"Because I wish sincerity between us." + +My hat lay at her feet, and she pressed its sorry plume between her +fingers. "Monsieur, if you had heard news of Lord Starling during this +last week you would have told me at once." + +"I should have told you at once, madame. I am glad you introduced this +matter. Does your mind still hold? Or do you now think that we should +seek your cousin?" + +Again she lowered her eyes, but I did not miss the sudden flash in +them. "My cousin chose his path. Why need we interfere? Have +you--have you theories as to where he can be?" + +I flicked my finger at a wandering robin. "I am as guiltless of +theories as that bird. It is passing strange. Your cousin and our +ghostly Huron seem to have gone up in vapor." + +"Our ghostly Huron, monsieur?" + +I planted my elbows on the grass that I might face her. "Listen, +madame. It is time you knew the story of Pemaou." And thereupon I +recited all that had happened between the Huron and myself from the day +when we had played at shuttlecock with spears till the night when he +had shadowed us at the Pottawatamie camp,--the night before our +wedding. I even told her of the profile in his pouch. + +She winced at that. "Why did you not tell me before?" + +"It seemed useless to alarm you." + +"But you tell me now." + +I smiled at her. "I know you better. It seems fitting to tell you +everything now, madame." + +She looked at me with a frown of worry. "Monsieur, you are in danger +from that Huron. He hates you if you humbled him." + +I laughed at her. "He would not dare harm a Frenchman, madame." + +"Then why does he follow you?" + +But there I could only shrug. "He was probably in Lord Starling's pay, +and was keeping track of us that he might direct your cousin to us. +But we have shaken him off." + +She thought this over for some time without speaking, and I was content +to lie silent at her feet. Bees droned in the flowers and white drifts +of afternoon clouds floated over us. I was happy in the moment, and +more than that, I was drugged with my dreams of the future. There were +days and days and days before us. This was but the threshold. And +then, with my ear to the ground, I heard the sound of an axe. The +sound of an axe in an untraveled wilderness! + +I crowded closer to the ground. My blood beat in my temples, and I was +awake with every muscle. But I learned nothing. The sound of an axe +and then silence. + +The woman looked at me. "Monsieur, is something wrong? Your face has +changed." + +I stretched out my hand to her. "You must not grow fanciful. But +come. It is time to go home, madame." + +I pushed her into the canoe in haste, but when we had once rounded the +turn of the bluff we floated home slowly. The light of late afternoon +is warm and yellow. It cradled the woman in lapping waves, and she sat +glowing and fragrant, and her eyes were mirrors of the light. I +dropped my paddle. + +"Tell me more about yourself. Talk to me. Tell me of your childhood," +I breathed. + +She put out her hand. "Monsieur! Our contract!" + +I let the canoe drift. "Madame; tell me the truth. Why do you hold +yourself so detached from me? Is it---- Madame, is it because you +fear that we shall learn to love each other,--to love against our +wills?" + +She looked down. "It would be a tragedy if we did, monsieur." + +"You would think it a tragedy to learn to love me?" + +"It could be nothing else, monsieur." + +The breeze took us where it willed. The mother-of-pearl shimmer of +evening was turning the headlands to mist, and the air smelled of cedar +and pine. Tiny waves lapped complainingly on the sides of our rocking +canoe. I leaned forward. + +"Listen, madame, you know life. You know how little is often given +under the bond of marriage. You know how men and women live long lives +together though completely sundered in heart, and how others though +separated in life walk side by side in the spirit. As this is so, why +do you fear to see or know too much of me? Propinquity does not create +love." + +Still she looked down. "Men say that it does, monsieur." + +"Then why are so many marriages unhappy? No, madame, you know better +than that. And you know that if love should grow between us it would +sweep away your toy barriers like paper. Nearness or absence would not +affect it. Madame, let me have your hand." + +"No, no! Monsieur, I do not know you." + +"You shall know me better. Come, what is a hand? There. Madame, +would you prefer, from now on, to travel in hardship with me rather +than be left in comfort here?" + +"I should indeed, monsieur." + +"Then you shall go with me." + +"But your work, monsieur!" + +I released her hand and picked up my paddle. "I see that Indian tribes +are not my only concern," I explained. "I have other matters to +conquer. We shall not be separated from now on." + +She did not answer, and I paddled home in silence with my eyes on her +face. As we landed, she gave me her hand. + +"I do not care for supper, and am going to my house. Good-night, +monsieur." + +I bowed over her hand. "Are you glad that you are to travel with me +and know me better? Are you glad, madame?" + +She smiled a little. "I--I think so, monsieur." + +"You are not sure? Think of it to-night. Perhaps you will tell me +to-morrow. Will you tell me to-morrow, madame?" + +She drew back into the dusk. "Perhaps--to-morrow. Good-night, +monsieur." + +I walked through the meadow. I would not eat supper and I would not +work. Finally I called Simon. He was a strange, quiet man, not as +strong as the others of the crew, but of use to me for his knowledge of +woodcraft. As a boy he had been held captive by the Mohawks, and he +was almost as deft of hand and eye as they. + +"Have you seen any sign or sound of Indian or white men in these three +weeks?" I asked him. + +He looked at me rather sullenly. "Yes. A canoe went through here one +night about a week ago." + +"Who was in it?" + +"I do not know." + +"You should have followed." + +"I did." + +"You should have reported to me." + +He glowered at me with the eye of a rebellious panther. "I watched. +The master went away." Then he showed his teeth in open defiance. "I +watched every night on the beach. The master slept or went away." + +I opened my mouth to order him under guard, but I did not form the +words. I thought of the way that he had spent his days working on the +delicately fashioned canoe and his nights in keeping guard. And all +for the woman. Women make mischief in the wilderness. I grew pitiful. + +"Watch again to-night," I said kindly, "and you shall sleep to-morrow. +Simon, I thought that I heard the sound of an axe off the south shore +to-day. I shall take the small canoe at daybreak and see what I can +find. Tell the camp I have gone fishing. I shall return by noon. +And, Simon"---- + +"Yes, master." + +"Madame de Montlivet is your special care till I return." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +IN THE MIST + +I slipped off in grayness the next morning. There was a water fog that +hugged me clammily, and sounds echoed in it as in a metal canopy. I +could not have found my way in open water, but here I could crowd tight +to the shore and keep my bearings. I took a keg of pitch with me, for +when I saw the weather I knew that I would give the canoe many a scrape +on rocks and snags. + +It was tedious traveling, and it seemed a long time before I made my +worming way around every inequality in the shore and reached the inlet +where we had eaten lunch. Here I lifted the canoe, turned it bottom +side up in the meadow, and covered it with a sailcloth. I wanted it to +dry, and the air was still dripping moisture. I had expected the fog +to lift before this, but it seemed to be growing heavier. + +I tried to light my pipe, but the tobacco was damp and would not burn. +Slow drops dribbled from the trees and the meadow was soggy. Where +should I go? I could hear nothing, and as for seeing anything I could +have passed my own camp a rod away. It began to seem a fool's errand. +I thought of returning. + +Perhaps it was a boyish feeling that took me to the sycamore. I looked +about. The ashes of our little fire still lay in a rounded pile, and +at the edge of the pile, printed deep in the yielding surface, was a +moccasin print. It was not the woman's moccasin, nor my own boot. One +look showed me that. + +And then I went over the surrounding ground. I learned nothing, for +pebbles and short grass are as non-committal as a Paris pavement. The +print had been made before the mist fell, for the dew was unbrushed. I +looked at the encircling forest, and its dripping uniformity gave no +clue. I knocked the charred tobacco from my pipe, pulled my hat down +on my ears, and plunged straight ahead. + +It was a fool's way of going at the matter, but a fool has as good a +chance as a philosopher in such a case. I clove my way through the +mist as blind and breathless as a swimmer in a breaker. The forest was +thickly grown and the trees stood about me as alike as water-reeds. +Whenever I touched one it pelted me with drops, and I was numbed with +cold. My feet slipped, for the ground was slimy with wet. But I was +not thinking of comfort, nor of speed. I was listening. + +For the strange, gray air was trembling with echoes. Every snapped +twig, every bird murmur, every brush of a padded foot on leaf mould was +multiplied many-fold. The fog was a sounding-board. All the spectral +space around me, above me, below me was quivering and talking. My very +breath was peopled with murmurs. I have been in many fogs, but none +like this one. If the spirits of the dead should revisit us, they +would whisper, I think, as the air whispered around me then. + +How long I groped, learning nothing, I do not know, for when the mind +forgets the body minutes may be long or short, and no count is taken of +them. But at last among the noises that knocked at my ear came a new +note. I heard a human voice. + +And then, indeed, I pressed all my faculties into service. I put my +ear to the wet ground and strained it against tree trunks, trying to +weed out the myriad tiny whisperings that assailed me and grasp that +one sound that I wanted and hold it clear. And at last I heard it +unmistakably; there were voices, more than one it seemed. + +My ears buzzed with my effort to listen. I heard the sound, lost it, +then heard it again. It was like a child's game. I heard it, +blundered after it, then it disappeared. I turned to go back, and it +came behind and mocked me. It was everywhere and nowhere. It came +near, then faded into silence. The fog suffocated me; I found myself +pressing at it with my hands. + +Yet on the whole I made progress. In time the voices grew clearer. +There were several of them, perhaps many. I heard shouting,--orders, +presumably,--and once a clink of metal,--an iron kettle it might have +been. But the sound was back of me, in front of me, at the sides of +me, above me. I could not hold it. It reverberated like the drumming +of a woodcock that comes to the ear from four quarters at once. And +all the time the fog pressed on my eyelids like a hand. + +I had left my musket hidden under the canoe, for I could not have used +it in the dampness, so I had only my knife for guard. I carried it +open, and made an occasional notch upon a tree. Once I came to a +notched tree a second time. The old woodland madness was on me, and I +was stepping in circles. Yet the sounds were growing clearer. They +were approaching, though I could not tell from what quarter. I stood +still. + +What followed was like a dream; like the dream that I had had the night +after the storm when I woke with sweat cold on me. The fog pinioned me +like a clammy winding-sheet; I could see nothing; I was too chilled to +feel; I was as alone and powerless as a lost canoe in the ocean; but +somewhere on earth or in air I heard a company of men pass me by. The +sounds were unmistakable. I heard the swish of wet leaves, the pad of +feet, and even the creak of the damp leather of the carrying-straps. +Something cracked, pricking in my ears in a blur of sound, and I knew +that the men had brushed a branch with the canoe that they were +carrying on their heads. They were near me; at any moment they might +come within touch of my hand. But where were they? Whoever they were, +whatever they were, the wish to see them became an obsession. I knew +no feeling but my tingling to get at them. I pushed to right and left. +I knocked against trees. The sounds were here, then there. I could +not reach them. They taunted me as lost spirits tantalize a soul in +purgatory. Whichever way I turned they were just out of my grasp. I +clenched my hands and swore that I would not be beaten. + +But my pitiful little oath was all bluster and impotent defiance. I +was as helpless as a squirming puppy held by the neck. I ran like a +madman, but I ran the wrong way. The invisible crew passed me, and +their voices faded. I heard them melt, melt into nothing. A sound, an +impression,--that had been all. Not even a gray shadow on the fog to +show that I had not been dreaming. I looked at my skinned knuckles and +disordered clothes, and a strange feeling shook me. A certain rashness +of temperament had all my life made me contemptuous of fear. But this +was different. I tried to laugh at myself, but could not. + +It was a simple matter to retrace my route, for I had left a trail like +a behemoth's. And one thought I chewed all the way back to the meadow. +If I could have done it over again I should have called, and so have +drawn whatever thing it was toward me. That would have been dangerous, +and I might have paid the forfeit of a head that was not my own to part +with, but at least I should have seen what thing it was that passed me +in the fog. There began to be something that was not wholly sound and +sane in the depth of my feeling that I ought, at whatever cost, to have +confronted that noise and forced it to declare itself. + +When I came to the meadow it was wet and spectral. The fog had lifted +somewhat and now the air was curiously luminous. It appeared +transparent, as if the vision could pierce far-stretching reaches, but +when I tried to peer ahead I found my glance baffled a few feet away. +It was as if the world ended suddenly, exhaled in grayness, just beyond +the reach of my hand. It made objects remote and unreal and singularly +shining. I looked toward the sycamore, and my heart beat fast for a +moment, for I thought that a pool of fresh blood lay in the grass where +the woman and I had sat the day before. But I looked again and saw +that it was only the bunch of red lilies that she had plucked and worn +and thrown away. I had told her that their red was the color of war, +and she had let them drop to the ground. I went to them and picked +them up, and they left heavy, scarlet stains upon my fingers. + +When I went to the canoe I found it still damp, but I uncovered it and +went to work to do what I could with the frayed seams. An unreasoning +haste had possession of me, and I worked fumblingly and badly, like a +man with fear behind him. Yet I was not afraid. I was consumed by the +feeling that I must get back to camp and to the woman without delay. + +Kneeling to my work with my back to the forest, strange noises came +behind and begged attention. But I would not look up. I had had +enough of visions and whisperings and a haunted wood. I wanted my +canoe and my paddle and a chance to shoot straight and to get home. +For already I thought of the camp as home, and of this meadow as a +place where I had been held for a long time. It was a strange morning. + +And so it was that even when I heard the thud, thud of a man's step +behind me I did not turn. A man's step is unlike an animal's, and I +had no doubt in my heart that a man was coming. But let him come to +me. My immediate and pressing concern was to repair my canoe that I +might get to camp, and I would squander neither movement nor eyesight +till that was done. A few moments before it had seemed a vital matter +to find what creatures they were that whispered and rustled past me in +the grayness. Now my anxiety was transferred. + +The echoing fog played witchcraft with the step as it had done with the +other noises. The sound came, came, came,--a steady, moderate note; no +haste, no dallying, no indecision. Quiet, purposeful, controlled, it +sounded; that pace, pace, that came through the twig-carpeted timber. +The Greek Fates were pictured as moving with just that even +relentlessness of stride. Yet in life, so far as I have seen it, +tragedies commonly pounce upon us, like a wolfish cat upon her prey, +and we find ourselves stunned and mangled before we gather dignity to +meet the blow. I thought of this, in an incoherent, muddy way, as the +step came nearer. And I worked with hurrying hands at the canoe. + +Then came a voice. No whispering, no rustling, nothing vague and +formless and haunting, but a low, commanding call:-- + +"Bonjour, mon ami." + +I did not start. If I turned slowly it was because I knew what was +waiting me, and was adjusting several possibilities to meet it. It was +a man's voice that called, yet its every inflection was familiar, +familiar as the beating of my heart. For madame, my wife, had called +to me more or less often in the twin of that voice with its slurring +deliberateness and its insolent disregard of the pitfall accents of a +foreign tongue. And now I turned to meet her cousin, the man whom she +had promised to marry; the man who had deserted her to the knives of +savages; the man whom she despised and yet feared, and who now called +to me in a voice that was hers and yet was not; that haunted and +repelled, all in one. I did not think out any of this by rule and +line. I only knew that I dreaded meeting this man who was stepping, +stepping into my life through the fog, and that I turned to meet him +with my heart like ice but my brain on fire. + +I had ado to keep my tongue from exclaiming when I turned. I do not +know why I expected the man to be small, except that I myself am overly +large, and that I was looking for him to be my antithesis in every way. +But the figure that loomed toward me out of the luminous mist dwarfed +my own stature. Never had my eyes seen so powerful a man. Long and +swinging as an elk, he had the immense, humped shoulders of a buffalo +and the length of arm of a baboon. His head would have sat well on +some rough bronze coin of an early day. Semitic in type he looked, +with his eagle-beaked nose and prominent cheek bones, but the blue of +his eyes was English. They were intelligent eyes. + +He looked at me a moment, and I stood silent for his initiative. I +remembered that I was dressed roughly, was torn and rumpled by my +contest with the forest, and that I must appear an out-at-elbows +_coureur de bois_. He would not know me for the man he was seeking. I +waited for him to ask my name, and selected one to give him that was my +own and yet was not M. de Montlivet. Since names cannot be sold nor +squandered, my father had bequeathed me a plethora of them. + +But I credited the Englishman with too little acuteness. He stepped +forward. "This is Monsieur de Montlivet?" + +I could do no less than bow, but I kept my hand by my side. "And you, +monsieur?" + +He smiled as at one indulging a childish skirmish of wits; but +controlled as his face was, I could see the relief that overspread it +at my admission. "My name is Starling. I have a packet for you, +monsieur," and he handed me Cadillac's letter. + +I hated the farce of the whole affair, and when I ran my eye over +Cadillac's message, which I could forecast word for word, I felt like a +play-acting fool. But I read it and put it in my pocket. + +"You have had a long trip, Lord Starling," I said, with some show of +courtesy. "It is new to see a man of your nation in this land!" + +He waved me and my words into limbo. + +"Where is the Englishman,--the prisoner?" + +A folded blanket lay beside the canoe, and I shook it out and spread it +on the dew-drenched grass. "Will you sit, Lord Starling? Forgive me +if I smoke. It is unusual grace to meet a man of my own station, and I +would enjoy it in my own way. Will you do the same? I see you have +your pipe." + +He swung his great arm like a war club. "Where is the prisoner?" + +I sat on the red blanket and filled my pipe. "I know of no prisoner." + +I thought he would have broken into oaths, but instead he shrugged his +shoulders. He walked to the other side of the blanket, and I saw that +he limped painfully. Then he sat down opposite me, his great turtle +neck standing up between his humping shoulders. With all his size and +ugliness he was curiously well finished,--a personality. He was a man +to sway men and women. I felt it as I felt his likeness to his cousin, +a likeness that I could not put my finger on but that I knew was there. +Small wonder that she dreaded him. He was a replica in heavy lines of +the sterner traits in her own nature. He had something of her +curiously winning quality, too. Did she feel that? She had promised +to marry him. I lit my pipe and smoked, and waited for him to declare +himself. + +He did it with his glance hard on me. "You are playing for time. Is +that worthy your very evident intelligence, monsieur, since you can +protract the game only the matter of a few hours at most? I have +Cadillac's warrant for the prisoner." + +I smoked. I felt no haste for speech. What I had to say would make a +brutal, tearing wound, and I hugged my sense of power and gloated over +it like an Iroquois. A woman was between us, and I knew no mercy. + +My silence appeared to amuse him. He studied me and looked unhurried +and reflective. He stretched out a long, yellow arm in simulation of +contented weariness. "I wonder why you wish to keep the prisoner with +you longer," he marveled. + +And then I laughed. I looked him full in the face and laughed again. +"But I have no prisoner. Unless, indeed, matrimony be a sort of +bondage. I travel with my wife, with Madame de Montlivet, nee +Starling, monsieur." + +I knew that I had cut him in a vital part, but he held himself well. +An oath burst from him, but it did not move his great, immobile face +into betraying lines. Yet when he tried to speak his voice trailed off +in an unmeaning rattle. He tried twice, and his hands were +sweat-beaded. Then he heaved his great bulk upward and stood over me, +his baboon arms reaching for my throat. + +"The marriage was honest? Speak." + +I could respect that feeling. "Father Nouvel married us," I replied. +"We found him at the Pottawatamie Islands. I marvel that you did not +hear news of us from there, monsieur." + +He sank back on the blanket. "I did not go there. I sprained my +ankle." He talked still with that curious rattling in his voice. "I +lost time and the damned Indians left me. When did you discover"---- + +"I married madame as soon as I discovered. Monsieur, you are of her +family. I can assure you that I have shown your cousin all the respect +and consideration in my power." + +He looked at me as if I were some smirking carpet knight who prated of +conventions when a man was dying. + +"Where is she?" + +"In my camp, monsieur." + +"Take me to her." + +"Monsieur, I must refuse." + +He opened his mouth with a look that cursed me, but before the words +came he thought twice and changed his front. He spoke calmly. "I am +her guardian and her cousin. I was her intended husband. You are a +gentleman. I ask you to bring me to my cousin, monsieur." + +His tone of calm possession fired me, I remembered what he was, and I +enumerated his titles in order. + +"Yes. You are the guardian who would have married her for her estates; +you are the cousin who played the poltroon and outraged her pride of +family; you are the lover who abandoned her,--abandoned her to torture +and the tomahawk. Is it strange that it is her wish never to see you? +You will spare your pride some hurts if you avoid her in the future, +monsieur." + +The great face turned yellow to the eyes. "She told you this?" + +"I am no mind reader, monsieur." + +And then he turned away. I took one glimpse of his face and knew it +was not decent to look a second time. He had done a hideous thing, but +he was having a hideous punishment. Nature had formed him for a proud +man, and he had lived arrogantly, secure of homage. I wondered now +that he could live at all. + +And so I went to work at the canoe, and waited till he should turn to +me. When he did it was with a child's plea for pity, and the +abjectness of his tone was horrible, coming from a man of his girth and +power. + +"You might have done the same thing yourself, monsieur." + +I bowed. I could not but toss him that bone of comfort, for it was the +truth. Sometimes a spring snaps suddenly in a man, and he becomes a +brute. How could I boast that I would be immune? + +"But I would have shot myself the moment after," I said. + +He had regained his level. "Then you would have been a double coward. +I shall do better." + +"You think to reinstate yourself?" + +"I know that I shall reinstate myself. Monsieur, I throw myself upon +your courtesy. I ask to be taken to my cousin." + +"No, monsieur. I follow my wife's wishes." + +"I loved her, monsieur." + +My pity of the moment before was gone like vapor. I looked up from my +canoe, and took the man's measure. "I think not. You loved something, +I grant. Her wit, perhaps, her money, the pleasure she gave your +epicure's taste. But you did not love her, the woman. My God, if you +loved her how could you endure to scatter her likeness broadcast among +the savages as you did? To make that profile, that mouth, that chin, +the jest and property of a greasy Indian! No, you shall not see my +wife, monsieur." + +He changed no line at my outburst. "Then I shall follow by force. I +shall sit here till you move, monsieur." + +I shrugged. "A rash promise. Are your provisions close at hand?" + +He looked at me steadfastly. "Then you absolutely refuse to take me to +her?" + +"I refuse." + +"Yet I shall reach her." + +I took moss from my pocket and calked a seam with some precision. I +did not speak. + +"You think that I cannot reach her?" + +I smiled. There was a womanish vein in the man that he should press me +in this fashion for a useless answer. I began to see his weakness as +well as his obvious strength. I waited till he asked yet again. + +"You think that I shall not be able to reach your wife, monsieur?" + +And then I shrugged and examined him over my pipe-bowl. "Yes, you will +reach her, I think. You have a certain persistence that often wins +small issues,--seldom large ones. But I shall not help you." + +"I shall stay here till you go." + +"Then we shall be companions for some time. May I offer you tobacco, +monsieur?" + +He smiled, though wryly and against his will. It was plain that we +were taking a certain saturnine enjoyment out of the situation. We +could hate each other well, and we were doing it, but we were both +starved for men's talk,--the talk of equals. + +"It seems a pity to detain you," he mused. "You are obviously on +business. When I came up behind you I thought that I had never seen a +man work in such a frenzy of haste. There was sweat on your forehead." + +I waved my pipe at him. I had the upper hand, and I felt cruelly +jovial. "It was haste to meet you," I assured him. "I missed you in +the fog, and feared you would reach camp before me." + +"You feared me, monsieur?" + +I felt an unreasoning impulse to be candid with him. The strange, +choking terror had swept back at that instant, and again it had me by +the throat. Yet here sat the cause of my terror before me, and he was +in my power. + +"I feared your Indians." I spoke gravely. "Handle those Hurons +carefully, monsieur. It is a tricky breed." + +"But I have no"---- He stopped, and looked at me strangely. "What +made you think that I was near?" + +"For one thing I heard your axe yesterday." + +"But yesterday I was five leagues from here." + +I whistled through my teeth. I hate a useless lie. "I heard your +axe," I reiterated. "This morning you and your men passed me in the +fog." + +He stared at me, then at the forest. "Monsieur, I have no men!" + +"What?" + +"I came alone." + +"Monsieur, you are lying." + +"It is you who are mad. Take your hands away!" + +"I will let you go when you tell me the truth. Remember, your men +passed me this morning." + +"I tell you, I came alone." + +"Where are your Indians that Cadillac sent with you?" + +"I sprained my ankle and they left me." + +"Where did they go?" + +"How should I know? I tell you they left me." + +"Was Pemaou, the Huron, one of them?" + +"He was guide. Monsieur, what do you mean?" + +I could not answer. My throat was dry as if I breathed a furnace +blast. I looked at the canoe under my hands. It was not seaworthy. +"Will your canoe carry two?" I cried. + +He nodded. His great rough face was sickly with suspense. "Monsieur, +what does this mean?" + +I swore at him and at the hour he had made me lose. "Men passed me in +a fog. They have been hiding here for a day at least. Show me your +canoe. We must get to camp. Yes, come with me. Come, show me your +canoe." + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +WHAT I FOUND + +Once in the canoe I bade Lord Starling crouch low, and I paddled +fiercely. I breathed hard not from exertion, but like a swimmer +fighting for his breath. I was submerged in waves of terror, yet I had +no name for what I feared. I learned then that there is but one real +terror in the world,--fear of the unseen. The man who feels terror of +an open foe must be a strange craven. + +Lord Starling respected my mood and was silent. He sat warily, +shifting his weight to suit the plunging canoe. + +"The fog chokes me," he said at length. "How large a camp have you? +Whom did you leave on guard?" + +I told him. + +"That should be sufficient." + +"Not for a concerted attack." + +"But who would make a concerted attack?" + +I lengthened my stroke till the canoe quivered. "I am not sure. I +have been shadowed. I thought it was by your order. I cannot talk and +paddle, monsieur." + +But I could paddle and think. And always I saw the meadow as we had +found it that first day with drifts of white butterflies over the +flowers, and the woods warm and beckoning. How would the meadow look +now? + +But when we came to it I thought it looked unchanged, save that the fog +made all things sinister. We crashed through the guarding reeds, and I +let the canoe drive hard upon the sand. No one was in sight, and a +wolf was whining at the edge of the timber. I leaped to the shore. + +I think that I called as I stumbled forward. I saw the ashes of a dead +fire, and a cask that had held rum lying with the sides and end knocked +in. Then I saw a dead body. + +I did not hasten then. My feet crawled. The body lay sprawled and +limp with its out-stretched fingers clutching. One hand pointed toward +the woman's cabin. + +I turned the corpse over. It was Simon. His scarlet head was still +dripping, but his face was untouched. I saw that he had died +despairing, and I laid him back with a prayer on my lips but with the +lust to kill in my heart. + +I went through the cabins quickly but methodically. I think that I +made no sound of grief or excitement, but I knew indefinitely that Lord +Starling was following me, and that, at horribly measured intervals, he +gave short, panting groans. But I did not speak to him, nor he to me. + +I spoke for the first time at the woman's cabin. I looked within and +saw that it was untouched; then I put out my arm and barred Lord +Starling's way. + +"I have never stepped in here, and you shall not," I told him with my +jaws set, and I think that I struck him across the face, though of that +I have never been quite sure. + +In my own lodge I found havoc. Bales had been broken open, and my +papers were thrown and trampled. Many of the papers were blood-smeared. + +I examined every cabin and every bale, then went to the ashes of the +camp fire and stood still. Lord Starling followed, and I heard his +smothered groan. I took out my knife. + +"I shall kill you if you make that noise again," I said. + +I think that I spoke quietly, but he stepped back. I saw that he was +afraid,--afraid of losing his miserable, mistaken life,--and I laughed. +I laughed for a long time. Hearing myself laugh, I knew that it +sounded as if I were near insanity, but I was not. My head had never +been clearer. + +Perhaps Lord Starling conquered his fear. He came nearer and lifted +his magnificent, compelling bulk above me. + +"Listen!" he began. "We have been foes; we shall be again; but now we +are knit closer than eye and brain in a common cause. I will deal with +you with absolute truth as with my own right hand. Tell me. Tell me, +in God's mercy! What do you know? Who did this? What can we do?" + +His voice was judicial, but I saw his great frame swaying like a +shambling ox. I marveled that he could show emotion. My own body felt +dead. + +"The woman has been taken away," my stiff, strange voice explained. +"So far they have not harmed her." + +"How do you know?" + +"There are no marks of struggle. Simon resisted, and they killed him. +The other men surrendered. The Indians wanted prisoners, not scalps." + +"Was it Pemaou and his Hurons?" + +"Yes." + +"You are sure?" + +"He left a broken spear in my lodge. There was bad blood between us +once, and I broke the spear in two and tossed the pieces at him, +telling him to keep them,--to keep them, for we should meet again. I +humbled him. Now it is his jest. He is a capable Indian. He seems to +have outwitted even you, monsieur." + +Because I spoke as one dead he thought I needed leading. He took me by +the arm and would have guided me gently to the canoe. + +"Come, Monsieur de Montlivet, you must rouse yourself. We must start +in pursuit." + +I shook him off. "Sit here where it is dry. You need your strength. +We have hours to get through here before we leave, and little to do to +help us through the time. We must wait here for Pierre." + +"What do you mean? We must go at once." + +"No, we wait for Pierre. It may be dusk before he returns. I sent him +over the portage yesterday with orders to explore some leagues to the +south. We must wait for him. He can tell us whether Pemaou went east +by way of the portage." + +"But we lose time!" + +"We gain it. If Pemaou did not go by way of the portage, he went west. +He would not dare go north, for fear of the Pottawatamies, and he would +have no object in going south. He went east or west. We can learn +from Pierre." + +The man's shoulders heaved. "Your men were cowards," he muttered. + +I looked at him. So a coward could despise a coward! "My men were +wise," I corrected. "With Simon killed there were only two men +left,--one, rather, for Leclerc is a nonentity. Labarthe, left alone, +was wise to surrender. He is skillful with Indians. Monsieur, tell me +of your dealings with Pemaou. Tell me your trip here. I need details." + +He measured me. "You dictate, monsieur?" + +I pointed to Simon's body. "That is my claim." + +He gulped at that, and turned his back on the red horror to fix his +steady, critical gaze on my face. "After the massacre," he began, with +an effort, "I followed many false trails. I went to Quebec, to +Montreal. All this has nothing to do with what you wish to know. But +at Montreal I first heard rumors of an English prisoner who was being +carried westward. That sent me to Michillimackinac." + +"You heard this rumor through the priests?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"I thought so. It is fortunate for the success of your somewhat +complicated plans that you are a Catholic and a Jacobite." + +"Is there a slur in that remark, monsieur?" + +"Not unless the facts themselves are insulting, Our priests would see +no hidden purpose in your story. They would be predisposed in favor of +a Catholic and follower of James. They would give you letters where a +commandant would not. It was good policy to go to them." + +"But, monsieur, I am a Catholic!" + +"Which, I repeat, is fortunate." + +"Monsieur, this is wanton insult. Are you trying to pick a quarrel +with me here, here with this tragedy around us? It is a dog's trick. +I will not fight you." + +Again I took out my knife. "I will not fight you here,--here with this +tragedy around us,--but I may kill you. I shall do it if you do not +tell me this story fairly. I care nothing for your life, and I need +this story. I will have it if I have to choke it out of your throat." + +"I am trying to tell you the story, monsieur." + +"No. You are telling me a pleasant fairy tale of a love-lorn knight +searching the wilderness for his lost mistress. A moving tale, +monsieur, but not the true one. I want the real story. The story of +the English spy who wishes to ransom his cousin, but who also treats +secretly with the Hurons,--who treats with Pemaou, monsieur. Tell me +his story." + +His face did not alter. "You believe me a spy?" + +"I have reason, monsieur." + +Still he regarded me. "You might be right, but you are not. Monsieur, +I am a broken man. I want nothing but my cousin. If there is intrigue +around me I do not know it. I am telling you the truth." + +I fought hard against the man's fascination, his splendid, ruined pomp. +"You must have a code," I burst out. "There must be something you hold +dear. Will you swear to me by the name of the woman that you have not +had secret dealings with the Hurons?" + +"I swear." + +"But the profile that the Huron carried!" + +"Those pictures I scattered broadcast. You will find them among the +Algonquins, and the Ottawas of the upper river. My cousin has a +distinctive profile. I offered rewards for news of any one--man or +woman--who looked like the face that I had drawn." + +I put out my hand. "I hope that I have wronged you, monsieur." + +He bowed and touched my fingers. His own were icy, yet he shivered at +the chill of mine. "Pemaou would not dare harm the woman. Monsieur de +Montlivet, you know Indians. Surely Pemaou would not dare?" + +I gripped my knife. "No man knows Indians! Where did you see Pemaou +first?" + +"At Michillimackinac. When I reached there and learned that the +prisoner had gone with you I sent interpreters through the camps with +offers of reward for news of your whereabouts. Pemaou came. He said +he could locate you and I took him as guide." + +"He selected his own escort?" + +"Yes." + +"And you traveled slowly?" + +"Very slowly." + +I fingered my pipe and bit hard at its stem. "Pemaou has played +carefully. He had the woman captured and brought to camp. The time +was not ripe for him to use her, so he let me carry her away. But he +has had me shadowed. You played well into his hands, for you furnished +blankets and provisions. He had no intention of letting you find us. +We are equal dupes. I see that I wronged you, monsieur." + +He looked down, his breath laboring. I could look at him now without +recoil, for a common humiliation bound us. We were white and we had +been tricked by a savage. We sat in heavy silence. + +At last Starling spoke dully. "Why did Pemaou wait so long?" + +I gripped my knife the closer. "That we shall learn when we learn what +he has done with the woman." + +He looked up with his jaw shaking. "Monsieur, we must make haste." + +But I shook my head. "Monsieur, no. We must await Pierre." + +The fog was withdrawing. It was noon, and I rose and made ready a +grave for Simon. I chose a spot under a pine where I had seen the +woman sit, and I dug deep as my crude implements would permit. Then I +piled stones on the mound. The Englishman helped me, and together we +said a prayer. We did not comment till our work was over. Then +Starling looked down at the mound. + +"I wonder why he was killed? The others surrendered." + +I shrugged a trifle bitterly. "He loved the woman. It was not her +fault. I doubt that she knew it, and she could not help it. But it +cost him his life, for it made him attempt to carry a forlorn hope. +And she never even knew. It is suicide to love a woman hopelessly, +monsieur." + +It was hideous when we went back to our seats by the ashes. The sun +had come out hot and nauseating, and the flies buzzed horribly. We +tried to crowd down food, but we could not swallow. We sat and chewed +on our despairing thoughts, and hate that was a compound of physical +faintness and sick uncertainty rose between us. + +The Englishman took a miniature from his pocket and handed it to me. + +"She gave it to me herself," he said. "With laughter and with kisses, +monsieur." + +I tried to wave the picture away, but I had not strength to resist +looking. It was no profile that I saw. The brown eyes looked full in +mine; merry eyes, challenging, fun-crowded, innocent. There were no +sombre shadows there. There was spirit in plenty, but no sorrow. +White shoulders rose from clouds of pink gauze, and the hair was +powdered and pearl-wreathed and piled high in a coronet. It was not +the face of the woman that I knew. I said so, and returned the +portrait to the Englishman. + +He could not resist baiting me. "You do not like it, monsieur?" + +I shook my head. "It is nothing to me. It is the face of a laughing, +trusting, untouched girl. I have never seen her." + +"You say that you married her." + +"Monsieur, this is a girl. I married a woman, a woman matured by +tragedy. The eyes that are laughing in this portrait are wiser now. +They have seen the depths of a man's treachery. But they have not lost +their spirit, no, nor their tenderness, monsieur. You will find little +that you recognize in the woman who is now my wife." + +He kept his composure. "You use the word 'wife' very glibly," he said, +with a yawn. "Do you use it when the lady is within hearing, as you do +now?" + +"She is my wife." + +He laughed, for he saw he had drawn blood. "Your wife in name, +perhaps,--I grant you that,--but not in fact. Do you think me blind +that I should not see the two cabins. And you said that you had never +crossed the threshold of the woman's room. I see that I shall find my +cousin the maiden that I left her, monsieur." + +I kept my lips closed. He had indeed drawn blood. I could not answer. +He leaned forward and tapped a significant forefinger on my knee. + +"Remember, she has kissed me, monsieur. She has kissed me often of her +own will." + +And then my spirit did return. "That does not concern me." + +He lifted his great lip. "You are indulgent." + +The flies buzzed odiously. The Englishman was gloating over me, his +great head craned forward like a buzzard's. My brain took fire. + +"I am not indulgent," I said slowly, with my throat dry. "I am wise. +She has kissed you, yes. I have no doubt that she has kissed you many +times, casually, lightly, indifferently. She brushed the plumage of +her falcon in the same way. You are welcome to the memory of those +kisses, my lord. You may have more like them in the future, and I +shall not say you nay. They mean nothing." + +He scowled at me. "What do you know of her kisses?" he said under his +breath. + +I looked him in the eye. "I know this. There is but one kiss that +means anything from a woman, and she gives it, if she is the right kind +of a woman, to but one man in her life. For the rest,--I value them no +more than the brush of her finger-tips. Tell me, have you felt her +lips pressed to yours till her breath and her soul were one with you? +Tell me that. Answer, I say." + +I had let the cord of reason and decency slip. I rose, and I think +that the hate in my face must have been wolfish, for the man drew back. +He tried to look contemptuous, but I saw fear in his eyes. Fear and +something more,--a sudden pain and longing. The emotion that +heretofore he had kept well in hand trapped him for the moment. I was +answered. The woman might never be mine, but she had never been his, +either. I turned away. I was triumphant, but I loathed myself. I was +sick with the situation, and the man who had brought me to it. + +"You may keep your kisses, monsieur," I said savagely. "You may keep +them. But if you mention them to me again I shall throttle you where +you stand." + +The Englishman had felt the revulsion, and he showed no resentment of +my heat. He heaved himself up in the hot, horrible sunshine and rubbed +his hands as if washing them free. + +"We are curs," he said quietly. + +I could not say nay. "We must eat," I cautioned; "we must eat, and +keep ourselves sane. If we can get through this day without murder or +worse, we shall have work to do from now on that will serve to keep our +heads clear. Pierre will be coming soon now." + +Starling was regarding me keenly. "You lose your temper, and therefore +you should be easy to read," he said reflectively. "But you are not. +You evidently married my cousin for convenience. I can understand the +situation. But you stand by your bargain well. You have the honor of +your name somewhat sensitively at heart. But if you had not married +her---- If there were no compulsion, no outside reason--tell me, would +you marry her now?" + +But that I left unanswered. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE PIVOT + +Pierre came at five o'clock. He was keen for the approaching supper +hour and came jovially. + +I was sick with haste, and deep sunk in my own grief, so I was cruel +and a fool; I plumped the facts at him without a softening word. And +so I frustrated my own ends. The great, slow creature cowered and grew +dumb under my story. Then he went, great-eyed and hanging-lipped, from +cabin to cabin. I had locked up his springs of word and thought. + +But one thing my sword and my words prodded out of him. He had come by +the portage path from the east, and had seen no marks of passage that +were less than a week old. Our star led west. + +I baled what provision and ammunition we needed, loaded the canoes, and +cached the furs and the balance of the stores at the edge of the +forest. At six o'clock we were afloat. I led the way, and Pierre +followed with the Englishman. This gave me space to think in silence. + +The sun sank red and clear, and we paddled from a colored dusk to a +clear starlight. I knew this dimly, as the lost in the inferno know +the barred joys above them. Unless we found Pemaou within the next few +hours I should never be one with the loveliness of nature again. + +I held my way due west to the Malhominis. I could secure their +cooperation, if nothing more. Pierre followed at a canoe length, and +we traveled unbrokenly. It was an hour short of midnight when we saw +the west shore. I could take no bearings in the dim light, so we nosed +along, uncertain whether to go north or south to find the mouth of the +Wild Rice River where the Malhominis had their home. We held a short +colloquy and started northward. Suddenly Pierre shot his canoe beside +my own. + +"A camp!" he breathed in a giant whisper. + +I suspended my paddle. On the shore to the north of us were lights. +It could not be the Malhominis, for they lived inland; it was not +Pemaou, for the camp was many times larger than his would be. It was +probably a hunting party. All the western tribes were friendly; more, +they were my allies. I saw no necessity for caution. I raised a long +halloo, and our canoes raced toward the lights. + +We landed in a medley. Indians sprang from the squatting groups around +the fire and ran to meet us. They were black shapes that I could not +recognize. I leaped from my canoe and held up my hand in greeting. +But an arm reached out and tore my musket from me. I looked up. A +leering Iroquois stood over me. + +I dropped my arms and stood passive. A look over my shoulder told me +that Pierre and Starling had been seized and were fighting well. + +"Caution!" I called. "Do not resist. Watch me." + +"Where are we? What does it mean?" Starling called back. His voice +was shaking. + +I held out my arms to be bound. "The Iroquois!" I shouted to Pierre in +dialect. "I did not know there were any within a thousand miles. Keep +steady. Follow me. We may find Pemaou here." + +The Indians bound us systematically, but without undue elation, so that +I judged that they had many captives. They were Senecas and had the +look of picked men. I understood their speech, but beyond ribald jests +at our expense they said nothing. It was all swift, unreal. Owls +hooted in the woods and dogs snarled at us. The groups that remained +by the fire peered in our direction, but were too lethargic to come +near. I tried for a word with Starling. I feared for his spirit. + +"They are Senecas," I managed to say to him; "the most diplomatic +nation of the Iroquois league. They will not butcher us without +consideration. Keep cool." + +He nodded with some patronage. He looked impressive, unshaken; yet the +moment before he had been terror-stricken. I saw that I did not +understand him, after all. + +Having bound us, our captors raised a shout and shouldered us toward +the camp. A young brave capered before us, beating his breast and +singing. The braves by the fire took up the cry. + +And so we were pushed into the circle of flaming light. The Indians +crowded to us, and pressed their oily, grinning faces so near that I +felt their breath. I stumbled over refuse, and dirt-crusted dogs +blocked my way. The mangled carcass of a deer lay on the ground, and +the stench of fresh blood mingled with the reek of the camp. Yet I saw +only one thing clearly. In the midst of it stood the woman and Singing +Arrow. + +My relief caught at my throat, and the cry I gave was hoarse and +strangled. But the woman heard it. My first look had shown me not +only that she was unharmed, but that she was undaunted, that she stood +white-faced in all the grime, and held herself above it, a thing of +spirit that soil could not reach. Yet when she saw me, the cry that +came from her in answer changed her from an effigy to something so warm +and living that I forgot where I stood, and stopped my breath to hold +her gaze to mine, and drink the moment to the full. We stood with +captivity between us and torture at our elbow, but the woman looked +only at me, and her lips grew red and tremulous, and her breath came +fast. "You are safe. You are safe." I heard the words even among the +babel, and I pulled like a wild animal at my bonds to free myself and +reach her side. + +But I was held fast, and while I struggled came a mighty cry from +behind me, "Mary! Mary! Mary!" Starling's Goliath frame pushed by +me, and his captors were hurled like pygmies to each side. + +The woman was unprepared. She cried at sight of him with a deep +throaty terror that sent the blood to my brain. Starling would have +pressed himself to her, but she put out her unbound arms and fended him +away. And then he stood with his great height bowed and pleaded to +her. I had shrugged at the English for their hard reserve, but when I +heard this man I learned again that it is always the dammed torrent +that is to be feared. Even the Indians heard in silence. + +The silence lasted. Never before nor since have I known savages to +take the background and let two whites play out a tragedy unchecked. +But now they formed a ring and watched. They forgot their interest in +me and let me go. I could stand unheeded. An old man threw tinder on +the fire, and we saw each other's faces as in the searching, red light +of a storm. I watched the cords in Starling's neck tighten and relax +as he talked on and on. + +The drama was in pantomime to me, as to the Indians, for the cousins +spoke in English. But I could understand the woman's face. She spoke +in monosyllables, but I could have pitied any other man for the gulf +she put between them by her look. She was more than scornful; torn and +disheveled as she was, she was cruelly radiant, her eyes black-lined +and her lips hard. She was unassailable. And when she met her +kinsman's eye I gloried in her till I could have laid my cheek on the +ground at her feet. + +It was plain they were kinsmen. I had marked the strange blood +resemblance between them when I first saw the man, and it was doubly to +be noted now. It was blood against blood as they faced each other. +And it came to me that it was more than a personal duel. No wrong is +so unforgivable as one from our own family whose secret weaknesses we +know and share, and I felt that the repulsion in the woman's eyes was +part for herself and part for her pride of race. Yet I was uncertain +of the issue. The tie of blood is strong, and after a few minutes I +thought that Starling was gaining ground. His great personality +enwrapped us all, and his strange, compelling voice went on and on and +on, pleading, pleading in a tongue that I could not understand. His +eyes never left the woman's, and in time hers fell. I tried to clench +my bound hands, for my pride in her was hurt; yet I could understand +his power. + +It was just then that the savages wearied of the spectacle and hustled +Starling away. They saw that he was English, and they unbound his +arms, and began to take counsel concerning him. In a flash I saw my +path clear. They were friendly to the English. The woman was English. +I must not let her identify herself with me. And so when her glance +crept back to me, I was prepared. I would not stop to read what her +look might say. I shook my head at her and dropped my eyes. I made +the same signal to Singing Arrow. The Indian would understand my +motive; I could not be sure about the woman. + +And then I turned and mingled with the crowd, with my heart beating +strangely but my brain cool. The interest was centring in Starling, +and the older men had their calumets in hand and were preparing for the +council. I saw that for a few hours at least I should have life and +semi-liberty. There was no possibility of my escape, so, bound as I +was, I was free to wander within limits. I would keep as near the +women as possible and try and herd my faction together. + +I had been too absorbed to use my eyes, but now I saw that a captive +was lying near my feet. He was closely tied on two pieces of rough +wood shaped like a St. Andrew's cross, and was a hideous sight with his +tongue protruding and his eyes beginning to glaze. Dogs were +scrambling and tearing at him, and I edged nearer and tried to drive +them away. I examined him as closely as I dared, and judged by the +dressing of his long hair that he was a Miami. In that case the war +party must have come from the south by way of the Ohio and the Illinois +country, and they were probably working their way north to reach +Michillimackinac on its unguarded side. I saw it was a war party, for +there were no women with them, and the Iroquois carry their families on +all hunting trips. + +I looked at the dying man and wished for my knife. So they tortured +Indian captives while they let me, a Frenchman, go lightly bound. +Well, my turn was yet to come. My white skin probably gave me +importance enough so that I would be referred to the council. I would +not look ahead. I would plan for the moment, and open eyes and ears. + +There were many captives, I saw now, and my anxiety for Leclerc and +Labarthe grew keen. I made my slow way around the bound figures. Some +were pegged to the ground by their out-stretched hands and feet, and +some were stretched on crosses. But all were Indians. I saw more +Miamis, a few Kickapoos, and some whom I did not know; I learned later +that they were Mascoutens. And then I saw Labarthe. He was tied to a +tree, Leclerc beside him. Leclerc, who was ever a fool, would have +motioned to me, but Labarthe struck down his arm and gave a blank +stare. So I was able to get near them. They looked blood-stained and +jaded, but practically unhurt, and I saw a half-eaten chunk of meat in +Leclerc's hand. They had been fed and reasonably well treated. But +that meant nothing as guide to what might come. + +I had not made my way alone. Starling was the chief attraction, but I, +too, was the centre of a curious, chaffering crowd. The braves were +unwontedly good-humored, childishly pleased with the evening's +excitement, and I amused them still further by shrugging at them and +making great faces of contempt. When one offered me a meal cake I +kicked at him and trampled the food into the ground, and as I swaggered +away I heard him tell the others that I was a bear for courage. I +could have smiled at that, for I was acting more like a blustering +terrier than any nobler animal, but I would not let them see that I +understood their tongue. + +And so I pushed my way about. But wherever I went, or whatever else my +eyes were doing, I kept watch upon the woman. She stood quiet with +Singing Arrow and waited for what might come. Her fate was hanging +with Starling's at the council ring, and I knew that I must keep away +from her. That was not easy. Each time that I let my glance rest upon +the foulness of the camp I felt that I must go to her and blind her +eyes. But I never made more than one step. I had only to look at her +to understand that her spirit had learned in these months to hold +itself above the body. What was passing did not touch her; she lived +in the fortress of her splendidly garrisoned pride. Singing Arrow +stood equally aloof, intrenched in her stoicism, but I think the root +motives of the two were different, though the outside index was the +same. Indeed, we all had different wellsprings for our composure. +Pierre's stolidity was largely training. Starling's quiet might mean +instinctive imitation, but I feared it was something more sinister. +While mine---- But I had no composure. I swaggered and shrugged and +played harlequin and boaster. + +We were soon to learn that Starling's quiet was not impervious. I saw +him start. His hand flew to where his knife had been, and his teeth +showed like a jackal's. A figure that had lain, blanket-shrouded in +the shadow, had risen and come forward. It was Pemaou. He had pleased +his humor by being an unseen auditor and letting us play out our +various forms of resistance and despair for his delight. Now he would +make a dramatic entry. He was dressed for the part in a loin cloth, a +high laced hat of scarlet, and the boots of a captain of dragoons. He +stopped before Starling and grinned silently. Then he held his hat, +French fashion, and made a derisive bow. The Englishman forgot his +dignity and cursed. I wished that I had been near enough to hold up a +warning hand. + +I knew my turn was next, so was prepared. Pemaou sought me, and stood +before me, but I would not see him; I looked through him as through +glass. He spoke to me in French, but I was deaf. I heard the Senecas +grunt with amusement. + +Pemaou heard it too, and his war plume quivered. He gave an order in +Huron, and one of his men came behind me and unbound my hands. I could +have jeered at the childishness of his open purpose. He hoped that, +with my hands free, I would spring at him, impotent and vengeful as a +caged rattlesnake, and that then he could turn me over to the sport and +torture of the mob. I stretched my freed arms, laughed to myself, and +turned away. My laugh was genuine. It was wine to me that he should +have shown weakness in this fashion, when in some ways he had proved +himself a better general than I. It was a small victory, but it +cheered me. + +I do not know how long the council lasted, but it seemed hours. The +old men rose at last, and going to Starling, patted him, grunted over +him, and examined him. I could not hear what they said, but it was +evidently pacific; they led him off in the direction of the largest +lodge. + +And then came the woman's turn. I knew that my face was strained, +though I strove to keep it sneering. I saw the oldest man give +instructions, then he went to the two women and pointed the way before +him. I pushed along as best I could. He took them to a small hut of +bark and motioned them within, while he himself dropped the mat in +front of the opening. They were safe for that night at least. + +The savages were wearied now and turned to Pierre and me with yawns. +They made short work of us. I was bound to the arm of a stout warrior, +and he dragged me under a tree and dropped on the ground. He was +snoring before I had finished building a barricade of cloak between us +to keep as much as possible of his touch and smell away. + +The camp quieted rapidly, and I soon had only silence between me and +the stars. My mind was active but curiously placid. Inch by inch I +went over the ground of the last twenty-four hours. I stated the case +to myself as a foreigner translates a lesson. It is sometimes a help +to put a situation in the concrete, to phrase it as to a stranger. In +that way you stand aloof and see new light. So I put the matter in +category, sharing it with the stars, and with the back of the snoring +Indian. + +We were in Pemaou's hands. He had known that the Iroquois were coming; +had probably known it months before, and had instigated this campaign. +He wished an alliance with the English, and, though he could work to +that end through the Iroquois, he would find an English prisoner a +material aid. I could see how useful I had been to him in keeping the +Englishwoman away from Michillimackinac,--where he would have had ado +to hold his title of possession to her,--and I could not but respect +the skill with which he had timed his blow, and brought her to the +Iroquois camp at the right moment. Yes, I had served him well, from +the time when I had assisted him to hear Longuant's speech in the +Ottawa camp to the present hour. The accident that had strengthened +him still further by throwing Lord Starling into his hands he also owed +to me. But I looked up at the stars and did not lose courage. The +game was not over; the score was yet to be paid. + +I had many plans to arrange. Day was coming, and I watched the horizon +breaking and felt that the morning would bring new opportunity. + +And then, just as I needed all my wit and presence, I fell into a deep, +exhausted sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE PRICE OF SLEEP + +I do not know that, after all, I can call that sleep which fell upon +me. Sleep is merely a blessed veiling of the faculties; this was +collapse, deadness. The Indian beside me must have been equally worn, +for he lay like a log. We were huddled close to a tree, so were +unnoticed, or at least undisturbed. The sun was hours high when I +opened my eyes. + +I sprang to my feet, dragging the Indian to his knees. He grunted, +rubbed his eyes, and feeling sluggish and uncomfortable from the warmth +of the morning, found me an incubus. He grunted again, untied the +thongs that bound us, and went, stretching and yawning, to find his +breakfast. + +I stood for a moment marshaling my wits. The bright day and the noise +confused me, for I had been deep sunk in unconsciousness, and grasped +the real world unsteadily. The camp was even larger than the night had +shown, and it took some looking to find the woman's lodge. It was +empty; the mat was pulled down from before the door. + +I should have expected nothing else, for the morning was far advanced, +but I felt baffled, belated, like one whose long unconsciousness had +carried him hopelessly out of touch with his surroundings. Most of the +Indians were gathered at the shore, and I made my way toward them. I +went but slowly, for I had to feign indifference. I knew that every +step was watched. Perhaps the woman herself was watching. I burned +with shame to think she should have seen me sleep so soddenly. I +expected every moment to see her in the crowd. + +But when I reached the beach the crowd was straying as if the +excitement were over. Far out on the water to the northeast was a +flotilla of canoes fast disappearing. Whom did they carry? Had they +left from the camp? I cursed myself for my lost hours. The threads of +the situation had slipped from my hand, and all my feeling of +competence and hope of the night before had gone with them. I could +see no sign of the woman nor of Starling. Pierre's red head was a +beacon, but I dared not go to him. He was bending over a caldron of +boiling meat, and I saw that my man was himself again, and that the +trencher called him more winningly than any voice of mine. I shrugged, +and went to the beach to make what toilet I could. The cold water +recreated me. I was more a man when I strolled back in the crowd. + +And then I saw Labarthe. He was unbound and mingling with the Indians. +Leclerc was close beside him, shuffling and docile; he, too, was free, +as was Pierre. Four of us, and our hands at liberty. This looked +better. I hummed a tune, clapped a brave on the shoulder, and motioned +him to bring me meat and meal. But where was the woman? + +I saw Labarthe working toward me with his eyes the other way, so I knew +he had news. He was nimbler witted than Pierre, though less valuable +on a long stretch. I dreaded Leclerc, for he could not be trusted even +for good sense, and I heartily wished him elsewhere. But Pierre came +to the rescue; he called Leclerc boldly, and drew him to the meat +caldron. I was satisfied. Three of us were working in unison,--and we +had worked together in this way before, and won. But where were +Pemaou, and Starling, and the woman? + +Labarthe made his way near, and stood with his back toward me. I +remembered a roundelay that we had sung in camp. I whistled it, +picking, in the meantime, at the bone the Indian had brought. I +whistled the tune once, twice, several times. Then I fitted words to +it. + +"Where is the woman? Where is the Englishman? Tell me." I sang the +words boldly, but in bastard French with clipped accents. I feared +that among all these Senecas there might be one or more who had some +smattering of the French tongue. + +Labarthe did not answer at once nor look around, so I went on singing. +Nonsense words now, with no coherence or meaning, and all in French +that a cowherd would have been ashamed to own. + +I worked at last to a crescendo of sound that gave Labarthe his cue. +He turned and laughed, as if noticing me for the first time. He cocked +his head like a game bird, planted his legs apart, and joined the song. +He had the biggest voice from Montreal to Chambly, and he sung with +full lung power and at breathless speed. It was a torrent of sound; my +ears were strained to follow it. + +"Five large canoes left this morning," he warbled. "They carried +madame, the Englishman, Pemaou, and his Hurons, and a detachment of the +Senecas,--some seventy-five in all. They went to Michillimackinac." + +The news hit me like a bullet, and I must have whitened, but I kept on +singing. I nodded at Labarthe, and sang, I think, of spring and +running brooks. Then I flung a jeer at him and ate my breakfast. I +ate it systematically and stolidly, though it would not have tempted +any but a starving man. I was a fool and a dullard. I had slept away +my opportunities, and I could not see that my strength was important to +any one. But I determined to preserve it. + +If I kept up jest and laughter for the next hours--and I have some +memory that I did--it was automatic. For I more nearly touched despair +than ever before. I did not need the sentences that I picked up +further among the Indians to tell me what had happened. The Senecas, +under Pemaou's guidance, had gone to Michillimackinac; had put their +heads into the bear's mouth, and yet were as safe as in their own +village, for the bear's teeth were drawn, and the Senecas were armored. +They traveled with Pemaou, and they had two English prisoners. That +insured them protection from the Hurons, who desired the English +alliance and had leanings toward the Iroquois. As to the +Ottawas,--there was Singing Arrow as hostage. It was significant that +the Senecas had allowed Singing Arrow to go unbound. They desired an +alliance with the Ottawas. I remembered Longuant's speech, and his +indicated policy of casting his strength with the winning side, and I +thought it probable they would succeed. + +And if they succeeded? Well, Cadillac had his two hundred regulars. +Yet he could not hope to win, and he would do what he could to hold off +the necessity of trying. He would not dare seize the Senecas. No, the +league of the Long House had won. Their braves could sit in our +garrison at their leisure and exchange peace belts with our Indians +under our eyes. I set my teeth and wondered what part Starling had +played in it all. He had grown curiously at ease when he had found +himself in an Iroquois camp. I had no choice but to believe that +Pemaou had tricked and deceived him, as he had said, but that did not +mean that he had not been in league with Pemaou in the beginning. +Pemaou was capable of tricking a confederate. No Englishman +understands an Indian, and if he had patronized Pemaou the Huron would +have retaliated in just this way. I grew sick with the maze of my +thought. But one thing I grasped. With part of the Senecas in the +French camp, we Frenchmen would be spared for a time. We would be +convenient for exchange, or to exact terms of compromise. They might +torture us, but they would keep us alive till the issue of this +expedition was known. + +All about me were preparations for a permanent camp. This puzzled me +for a time, but I soon worked out the reason. They were afraid to +march with their full force on Michillimackinac, for they feared the +friendship of the western tribes for the French, and thought that if a +large war party marched openly toward the garrison these tribes would +rally to Cadillac's defense. So this camp was kept as watch-dog for +the western region. I prayed that Cadillac keep his judgment cool. + +One thing brought smiles that I had to turn into vacant and misleading +laughter. Through all the talk ran my name,--that they did not know +was mine. They had heard that I was stirring among the western tribes, +and that I was making them dangerous. They spoke of my knowledge of +Indian tongues, and added apocryphal tales of my feats of wit and +daring. My image loomed large, and it was no wonder that they did not +connect this mythical Colossus with the swaggering royster who played +buffoon for their mirth. I wondered that Pemaou had not told them, but +I reflected that there is a mutual distrust among Indians that takes +the place of reticence, and that that had saved me. I had escaped for +the moment, but the ice was thin. I should be given short shrift once +my name was known. + +The day passed, warm and lovely in the woods and on the water, hideous +and sweltering in the stench of the camp. I saw captives die of heat +and flies, but I could do nothing. My men took cue from me, and we all +laughed and chaffered. I even took a turn at spear throwing, but was +too discreet to win. I gained some good-will, perhaps, but nothing +more, and when the stars came out that night I ground my teeth to think +of how little I had accomplished, and of the slender opportunity ahead. + +But the next morning I saw a straw to grasp. Up to that time we had +been left to the guardianship of all the camp, but the second day I saw +that the huge brave to whom I was tied at night followed me +incessantly. I watched, and saw that my men had similar attendants. +This was a gain, as I said to Labarthe. I did not try to have +connected speech with the men, but by saying a word at a time as we +passed we could patch together a few sentences. + +From that on I gave the day to winning my special jailer. He was an +intelligent Indian and inclined to be good-humored. I amused him, and +when I took a net and motioned that we go to the swamp to fish he +grunted and agreed. + +The swamp lay on the north of the camp, and was, I was sure, part of +the great rice field on which the Malhominis had their village to the +west. The swamp was flooded so that it would bear a canoe, and it +teemed with fish. I took the net,--it was ingeniously woven of nettles +pounded to a fibre and then spun into cords,--and showed the Indian how +to swing it across an eddy and draw it under with a swift, circular +sweep that would entangle any fish. I had success, and the Indian +warmed to the sport and tried it himself. He could not do it; he could +not get the twist of the hand that was the whole secret, and I had to +show him again. He improved and grew ambitious. A few braves wandered +over to look at us, but my jailer was jealous of his new +accomplishment, and we took a canoe and paddled out of sight. We spent +most of the day in the swamp. + +That evening I went boldly to Pierre and said a few swift words. I +told him to keep as near the swamp as possible, and to tell the other +men to do the same. In about two days, if my plans carried, we should +be able to accomplish something. In the meantime they must appear +contented, and try for the confidence of their guards. + +Now my plan was simple. I had in my shirt the bottle of laudanum that +all traders carry, and it was my only weapon. Pierre had shown me a +small flask of rum which the Indians had not discovered, and which he +had had the unexpected self-control to leave untouched. I hoped that +when my Indian had learned the casting of his net his vanity could be +played on to invite the other Frenchmen and their guards to see his +prowess, and that we should then have opportunity to treat the Indians +to the laudanum-dosed rum. It was a crazy scheme, but worth a trial. +If we could get possession of the canoe, there was some hope that we +could make our way to the Malhominis village. + +No teacher was ever more zealous than I for my net-thrower. Early the +next morning I winked toward the swamp, and jerked my thumb over my +shoulder. The Indian came willingly. Why should he not? I was +unarmed, and he had knife and hatchet and was my peer in strength. He +thought me a strange fool, but useful. + +But that morning the lesson went badly. The Indian was clumsy, and +being ashamed of himself, grew surly and indifferent. The sun was hot, +the water dazzling, and mosquitoes rose in clouds. The Indian wanted +to go back to camp, and I cudgeled my wits for expedients to keep him +there. + +And then I bethought me of an accomplishment which I had shown Indians +before. Quickness of hand is my greatest resource, and I had been +known to noose a fish. I tore my handkerchief in ribands, made a +weighted sling, and had the Indian swing the canoe over a ripple where +a great bass lay. I waited my time, then plunged my hand down with the +weighted noose. I drew it up, with the fish caught through the gills. + +The Indian was pleased. He grunted and exclaimed in his own speech, +though he thought I could not understand. + +"They say the Frenchman, Montlivet, can do that." Then he looked at me +and light dawned. + +"You are Montlivet!" + +I wasted no time. I do not know how I did it, but I sprang the length +of the canoe and was on him before he could reach his knife. The canoe +rocked, but righted itself. I knotted my fingers in the Indian's +throat, and my body pinioned his arms. + +The surprise of my attack gave me a second's vantage, and in it I +snatched at the vial in my shirt, and drew the stopper with my teeth. +It was difficult, for the great, naked frame was writhing under me, and +the canoe pitched like a cork in an eddy. I felt the Indian's hot +breath, and his teeth snapping to reach me. His arm was working free +and his knife unsheathed. I threw my whole weight on his chest, +released my clutch on his neck, and taking both hands, forced his mouth +open and dashed the contents of my laudanum vial down his throat. Then +I sprang into the water, dragging Indian and canoe after me. + +I felt the slash of a knife in my right shoulder as I touched the +water, and the Indian's wiry grasp on my coat. I rolled and grappled +with him, and the canoe floated away. Hugging each other like twining +water snakes, we sank down through the reeds to the slimy ooze of the +bottom. + +Down there we wrestled for a second, blinded and choking. Then +self-love conquered hate, and we kicked ourselves free and spluttered +to the surface. My shoulder was stinging, and I could not tell how +long I could depend on it. I made a desperate stroke or two, dived, +and put myself in the cover of the reeds. + +The Indian splashed after me, but the water flowed through the reeds in +a dozen channels, and he took the wrong one. He would find his mistake +in a moment. I swam a few paces under water, then lay quiet, holding +myself up by the reeds, and keeping my mouth to the air. Piece by +piece I freed myself of my clothing and let it drop. The cut in my +shoulder was raw and made me faint. It was not dangerous, but deep +enough to give me trouble, and would make my swimming slow, if, indeed, +I could swim at all. I felt the water swash against me and knew the +Indian was swimming back. There was only a thin wall of reeds between +us, and in a moment he would come to where the channels joined and see +my floating garments. I could not stop to secure them, though I had +hoped to tie them in a bundle on my back. I dropped under the water +and swam away. + +I have often marveled how I distanced that Indian so easily. It may +have been his discomfort from the opiate, though I have never known how +much of what I splashed over him went into his mouth, nor what effect +it had. But after a little I heard no sound of pursuit. I thought +that perhaps the Indian had gone back to spread the alarm, and I took +no risks. I swam as fast as I had strength, resting occasionally by +holding on to the reeds, and trying to keep my course due northwest. + +And hour by hour passed, and still I kept on swimming. It was torture +after the first. I could rest as often as I needed, but the cold water +palsied me, and I feared cramp. My shoulder was feverish, and the pain +of it sapped my strength. Occasionally I found a log tangled in the +reeds, and I pulled myself up on it into the sun. If I had not been +able to do that I could not have gone on. + +With chill and fever and pain I had light-headed intervals. These came +as the afternoon waned, and while they lasted I thought that the woman +was in the Seneca camp, and that I must get back to her. Then I would +turn and swim with the current, losing in a few minutes as much as I +had gained in double the time. Fortunately these seizures were brief, +but they would leave me sick and shaken and grasping the reeds for +support. Another illusion came at this time: I would hear the woman +calling, calling my name. Sometimes she cried that I had forsaken her. +That left me weaker than the fever of my wound. + +It was impossible to see where I was going, for the reeds were high +above my head, but so long as my reason lasted I steered by the sun. I +presume that I doubled many times, and lost much space, but that I do +not know, for toward the end I traveled like an automaton. I could not +fix my mind on where I was going or why, but I kept repeating to myself +that I must push against the current, and so, though I lost the idea at +times, and found myself drifting, I think that I went some distance +after my brain had ceased to direct. + +And then I found peace. My mind, freed of the burden of thinking of +its surroundings, turned to the woman. She called to me, talked to me, +sometimes she walked the reeds at my side. She was all smiles and +lightness, and her tongue had never a barb. I forgot to struggle. The +narrow channel where I had been fighting my way opened now into a +broader passage, and the current flowed under me like an uplifting +hand. The woman's voice called me from down-stream; I turned on my +back, and floated, dreamy and expectant, toward the river's mouth. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +I ENCOUNTER MIXED MOTIVES + +I was called to semi-consciousness by the tinkling clamor of small +bells, and by feeling my feet caught in something clinging yet +yielding. Then my body swung into it. It was a web. I pulled at it, +and tried to brush it away. And all the while the bells kept ringing, +ringing. A shower of arrows fell around me, and one grazed my foot. + +A man must be far gone indeed when an arrow point will not sting him to +life. I was no longer a fever-riven log of driftwood. I knew where I +was and what was happening. I had reached the Malhominis village. +Working through the rice swamp, I had come into the main river too far +to the west, but following the woman's voice I had floated back. I was +caught in one of the nets that the Malhominis strung with small bells, +and stretched across the stream to keep both fish and enemies in +bounds. I set my teeth hard. + +"It is Montlivet. It is Montlivet," I called. + +Had I thought the Malhominis stolid and none too intelligent! They +heard me call, they pushed a canoe to my rescue, and they carried me to +a warm lodge. I remember that I bandied words with them as they +carried me. They made sport to see me naked, for on my former visit I +had rebuked them severely on that score. But they were tender of my +shoulder. + +The time for the next few hours--indeed for the night--is confused. My +shoulder was dressed and bound with herbs, and I was laid on a bed of +rushes. Outchipouac, the Malhominis war chief, knew from former +acquaintance with me that I had prejudices and would not lie where it +was not clean, and so he humored me and gave orders that the rushes be +freshly cut. By this I knew that he had not only respect for me, but +something that was like affection, since savages are indolent and +intolerant, and will not bestir themselves for Europeans unless they +are unwontedly interested. I treasured this kindness. One meets +little that savors of personal regard in the wilderness, and I was ill. + +Now, savages know little of the laws of health and abuse what they +know, but in the matter of herbs they can be trusted. The herb drink +which they gave me had virtue, for I woke with my head clear. A gourd +of water stood beside my pallet, and I drained it and called lustily +for another. A man pushed aside the skins and came in. It was Pierre. +Pierre, alive, clothed, and with every hair of his flamingo head +bristling and unharmed! He answered my cry with a huge smile, and then +because he had a gypsy mother in the background of his nature, he put +his great hands before his face, and I saw tears pushing between the +fingers. + +That made me fear ill news. I half rose, and would have shaken his +tidings out of him like corn out of a bag. But the pain of my shoulder +sent me back again with my teeth jammed hard together. + +"What has happened? Out with it!" I cried. + +But Pierre was inarticulate. He came to my pallet and mumbled +something between tears about my shoulder. + +--"and the master with no clothes but a dirty Indian's!" he finished. + +So I was the cause of this demonstration. I patted his hand. + +"But your escape, Pierre? Where are the other men?" + +"Master, I do not know." + +"But where did you come from? How did you get here? Talk, man!" + +"The master does not give me time. I came by land. It is a fine land. +They raise great squashes. Yes, and grain and vegetables! I have +never seen their like in France. If I had a farm here I could have +more than I could eat the whole year round." + +I took time to curse. I had never heard my giant prate of agriculture; +the camp and the tap-room had been his haunts. This appeared to be a +method of working toward ill news. I lay back on my rushes and tried +to fix his eye. + +"Pierre, answer. Where is Labarthe?" + +"I told the master"-- + +"Answer!" + +"I don't know." + +"Did he escape with you?" + +Pierre rubbed his sleeve across his face. "The master will not listen. +I do not know about Labarthe. I saw him at camp yesterday morning. +The master saw him at the same time. Then the master went to the +swamp, and I went, too, with my Indian. But I kept behind. By and by +I saw the canoe upside down, and the master's cloak floating on the +water; by that I knew that the master was drowned or had got away. I +thought he had gone to the Malhominis, and I wanted to go, too. So I +killed my Indian, and hid him in the grass. I came by land." + +I rose on my elbow, careless of my shoulder. "How could you kill the +Indian? You had no weapon." + +Pierre stretched out his arms, knotted like an oak's branches, and +illustrated. "I hugged him. Once I broke the ribs of a bear." + +I lay and wagged my head like an old man who hears of warlocks and +witch charms, and knows the tales to be true. The stupefying +simplicity of it! If you want a thing, take it. Pierre wanted to +follow me, so he killed his guard and came. That was all there was of +it. I looked at him long, my head still wagging. He had done this +sort of thing before. I had never understood it. It was this that I +meant when I had called Pierre, dull of wit as he seemed, the most +useful of my men. + +I lay all day on my pallet, and Outchipouac served me with his own +hands. + +"It is thus that we treat those whom we delight to honor," he said, and +he held the gourd to my lips and wiped my face with a square of linen +that some trader had left in camp. He would give me no solid food, but +dosed me with brewed herbs and great draughts of steaming broth. The +juggler looked into the lodge and would have tried his charms on me, +but Outchipouac sent him away. + +A storm rose toward night, and I heard the knocking of the rain on the +skin roof above me, and thought of the woman traveling northward in the +Iroquois canoes. Starling was with her. I lay with tight-clenched +hands. + +The storm swelled high. I asked that the mat be dropped from before +the door that I might see the lightning, and while I watched it +Outchipouac slipped in. He felt me over, and patted my moist skin +approvingly. Then he sat by my side and began to talk. + +His talk at first was a chant, a saga, a recitation of the glories of +his ancestors. The Malhominis had been a proud race,--now they were +dwindled to this village of eighty braves. He crooned long tales of +famine, of tribal bickerings, of ambuscade and defeat; his voice +rustled monotonously like wind in dried grass. + +Then his tone rose. He spoke of the present, its possibilities. The +Iroquois league was a scourge, a pestilence. Could it be abolished, +the western nations would return to health. Security would reign, and +tribal laws be respected. The French would be friends, +partners,--never masters,--and a golden age would descend upon the +west. It was the gospel that I had cried in the wilderness, but +phrased in finer imagery than mine. I felt the wooing of his argument, +even as I had wooed others, and I listened silently and watched the +lightning's play. + +But I dreaded the moment when his argument should leave theory and face +me in the concrete. The change came suddenly, as in music a tender +melody will merge abruptly into a summons to arms. He called me to +witness. The Iroquois were at the gates. They outnumbered the +Malhominis, but the Sacs, the Chippewas, and the Winnebagoes were all +within a day's journey, and would come at my call. The time for the +alliance of which I had told them was at hand. My body was crippled +but my brain was whole. To-morrow he, the chief, at my bidding, and +with my watchword, would send runners through the tribes. Within the +week a giant force could be gathered and an attack made. The Iroquois +camp would be exterminated, and then I, at the head of the force, could +march where I willed. Never had the western tribes followed a white +man, but I had called their hearts from their bodies, and they would go. + +But one thing I was to remember. He, Outchipouac, the chief, was my +brother in arms. He had rescued me, clothed me, furnished me the means +of war. My victories were his victories. These were his conditions. +All Iroquois slaves that might be captured were to belong to the +Malhominis to be incorporated in their tribe. The other tribes could +divide the plunder, but the Malhominis needed new blood for adoption. +I must agree to that. + +He stopped. I was too sick of mind to speak, and my distemper was not +of my wound. I had builded for this moment for two years, and now that +it had come I was going to turn my back on it. More, I was going to +refuse aid to a man who had succored me, had shown me genuine kindness. +Self-pity is contemptible, but I felt it now. + +"I cannot lead you," I said dully. "Gather your troops if you like, +and make the attack without me. I cannot be here. To-morrow I must +start for Michillimackinac. You will give me a canoe and a man?" + +The lightning filled the tent and lit our faces, and I saw the chief +start back under the blow of my words. He was shocked out of all his +inherited and acquired phlegm. He did not speak, but he rose and +peered into my eyes and I saw bewilderment go and contempt rise to take +its place. To feel the righteous disdain of an Indian! That is an +unusual experience for a white man. + +And still he did not reply. He sat down and pulled his blanket over +him. He was sorting out the evidence against me and giving judgment. +It seemed at least an hour that he sat silent. And when he did speak +he brought no manna. + +"You have sold yourself to the Iroquois wolf. You are a child. You +see only what is in front of your nose and forget what may come later. +You are a fox. You hand us over to the wolf, but what do you expect? +Has a wolf gratitude? No, but he has hunger. Fox meat is poor and +stringy, but the wolf has a large stomach. Let the fox beware." + +I pulled myself to my feet, though my shoulder cried to me for mercy. +I jerked the chief's blanket aside. + +"Outchipouac, I have listened. You have used an old trick. When a man +wishes to be rid of a dog he cries that it is mad; then he can kill it, +and no one will call him to account. So you. If you wish to break the +covenant between us, now is your time. You can call me a fox, you can +say that I have sold my honor to the Iroquois wolf. No one will check +you, for I am naked and ill, and you are powerful. But you will have +lied. This is my answer. I have called you 'brother;' I have kept the +bond unbroken. If there is a fox here it is the man who calls me one." + +I waited, and my mind was heavy. If the chief called me "brother" in +turn, I was ready to embrace him as of my kin. For he was full of +vigor of mind and honesty, and I respected him. He had been kind to +me. Would he trust me against the evidence,--the evidence of his ears +and of my reluctant tongue? + +He temporized. "The Frenchman has a tongue like a bobolink,--pleasant +to hear. Whether it says much,--that is a different matter. Can the +Frenchman tell me why he wishes to go to Michillimackinac? Can he tell +me why he spends time from the moon of breaking ice to the moon of +strawberries building a lodge of promises, and then when he is just +ready to use the lodge blows it down with a breath?" + +What could I tell him? That I was following a woman? That I had given +her my name, and that I must protect her? It would sound to him like a +parrot's laughter. This was no court of love. It was war. A +troubadour's lute would tinkle emptily in these woods that had seen +massacre and knew the shriek of the death cry. Again I set my teeth +and rose. + +"Outchipouac, war is secret. I cannot tell you why I go to +Michillimackinac. But trust me. I go on business; I shall return at +once, within ten days, unless the wind be foul. Will you furnish me a +canoe and a man to paddle?" I stooped and pulled rushes from my +pallet, plaited them, and bound them in a ring. "Take this ring; keep +it. It is firm, like my purpose, and unending, like my endeavor. I +shall replace it with a chain of bright silver when I come to you +again. I give it to you in pledge of my friendship." + +The chief took the ring and handled it loosely. I thought he was about +to throw it away, but he did not. He put it in his blanket. + +"It is well," he said, and left the lodge. I was held on probation. + +I had a good night and woke with new sinews. I saw that the sun was +shining and the sky untroubled. A squaw brought me broth, and I drank +it hungrily and tried to see no evil augury in the fact that I was +served by a woman. I flattered her, and asked her to summon Pierre. + +She brought him at once. He thrust himself into the entrance, and I +saw dismay written large upon him. + +"There is a canoe waiting to take the master away," he cried. "I am +going, too." + +Now I was prepared for this battle. "Pierre, you are to stay here. +You are to keep near the Seneca camp to help Labarthe and Leclerc. If +they escape, go, all of you, to our camp on Sturgeon Cove and guard the +stores till I send you word. You understand?" + +"But the master is sick. I go with him." + +"You stay here." + +"I go with the master." + +"I will not allow it." + +"Then I follow behind." + +"You have no canoe, no provision." + +"I have legs. I can walk. I can eat tripe de roche." + +The giant was trembling. I could not but respect this rebellion. He +had broken the chains of three centuries in his defiance. The thought +of his filling his cavernous stomach with tripe de roche--which is a +rock lichen, slimy and tasteless--moved me somewhat. + +"You dare disobey me, Pierre?" + +"But the master is sick." + +I shrugged, but the logic held. "Then tell the chief," I capitulated. +"And see that I have something to wear." + +Water was brought by one squaw, and another fetched more broth and +bound my shoulder with fresh dressings. Then leggings, robe, and +girdle of wolfskin were left for me. I put them on with difficulty, +and went to find Outchipouac. + +I stepped out into a glare of sunshine and stood blinking. The braves +were gathered in a group, and a line of squaws barred me from them. I +started toward them, but the squaws waved me back; they pointed me to +the shore and the waiting canoe. Pierre rolled forward, uneasy and +scowling. + +"The braves will not speak to us; they say our talk means nothing." + +"Who said that?" + +"Outchipouac. He showed me a grass ring hanging on a pole by his +lodge. He says that when you come again and hang a silver one in its +place it will be time for him to listen." + +I knew the Indians were watching, though covertly, so I could only bow. +I went to the canoe and looked to its provisioning. There were two +bags of rice, one of jerked meat, some ears of maize, and the dried +rind of a squash; a knife and a hatchet lay with them. Our hosts had +been generous. We were to be aided even if we were to be disciplined. +I found my place, and Pierre took the paddle and pushed away. + +It is one thing to be at enmity with savages, it is another to be an +outcast among them. I knew that their attitude had excuse, and I was +sick with myself. Then my Indian dress chafed my pride. I was sure +that Pierre was laughing under his wrinkled red skin, and I was +childish enough to be ready to rate him if he showed so much as a +pucker of an eye. For I had always refused to let my men adopt the +slightest particular of the savage dress. I had held--and I contend +rightly--that a man must resist the wilderness most when he loves it +most, and that he is in danger when he forgets the least point of his +dress or manner. After that the downward plunge is swift. I had said +this many times, and I knew Pierre must be recalling it. + +And so I was sore with fate. Wounded, skin-clad, I was not heroic in +look; it was hard to be heroic in mind. I had jeopardized the chance +of an empire for a woman. But that proved nothing. The weakest could +do that. It must be shown that I could justify my sacrifice. + +These were irritations, yet they were but the surface of my suffering. +Underneath was the grinding, never-ceasing ache of anxiety. What was +happening at Michillimackinac? Would I reach there in time? I could +do nothing but sit and think. Always, from dawn to dusk, my impatient +spirit fretted and pushed at that canoe, but my hands were idle. I +tried paddling with my left hand, but it dislocated my bandages, and I +did not dare. I was in some pain, but exposed as I was, broiled by the +sun and drenched by showers, I yet mended daily. I ate well and drank +deep of the cold lake water and felt my strength come. My cut was +healing wholesomely without fever, and Pierre washed and bandaged it +twice a day. He told me with many a twist of his hanging lip that it +was well for me that he was there. + +But on the point of his being there I had new light. It came one day +after long silence. The giant rested and wiped his forehead. + +"There are plovers on the waters," he pointed. "They make good eating. +Singing Arrow can cook them with bear's grease. I am going to marry +the Indian when we get to Michillimackinac. Then when we reach +Montreal you will give her a dowry. There is the grain field on the +lower river that was planted by Martin. Martin has no wife. What does +he need of grain? The king wishes his subjects to marry. And if the +master gave us a house we could live, oh, very well. I thought of it +when I went through the Malhominis land and saw all those squashes. +The Indian sews her own dresses, and I shall tell her I do not like her +in finery. We will send a capon to the master every Christmas." + +I grinned despite myself. I had grown fatuous, for I had taken it +without question that the oaf had followed from his loyalty to me. But +I nodded at him and promised recklessly--house, pigs, and granary. The +same star ruled master and man. + +But the way was long, long, long. Nights came and days came, and still +more nights and days. Yet it ended at last. Late one afternoon we saw +the shore line that marked Michillimackinac. Once in sight it came +fast, fast, fast,--faster than I could prepare my courage for what +might meet me. What should I find? + +We reached the beach where I had tied Father Carheil. We rounded the +point. The garrison, the board roofs of the Jesuit houses, the Indian +camps,--all were as usual. They were peaceful, untouched. I +swallowed, for my throat and tongue were dry. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +I MEET VARIOUS WELCOMES + +It was Father Carheil who first sighted us. He sounded the cry of our +arrival, and came skurrying like a sandpiper, his scant gown tripping +him, his cap askew. + +I leaped from the canoe and hurried to him. The man must hate me, but +he could not refuse me news. I stretched out my hand. + +"Is all well here, father? Is all well?" + +He disdained my hand, and held his arms wide. "All is well with us. +But you---- We feared the Iroquois wolf had devoured you." + +And I had thought the man capable of petty spite. I dropped on my +knees to him. "Father Carheil, I grieve for what I did, yet I could +not have done otherwise." + +He drew back a little and rumpled his thin hair with a bloodless hand. +His face was frowning, but his restless, brilliant eyes were full of +amusement. + +"So your conscience is not at ease? My son, you are as strong as a +Flemish work horse. I limped to mass for the next fortnight, and my +gown was in fiddle-strings,--you may send me another. As for the rest, +we need new altar hangings. Now, come, come, come. Tell us what has +happened." + +And there it ended. One makes enemies in strange ways in this world +and friends in stranger. I should not have said that the way to win a +man's heart was to bind him like a Christmas fowl and then leave him +with his back on the sand. + +The priest's cry had waked the garrison, and the officers came running. +Cadillac, stout as he was, was in the lead. I knew, from the press of +his arms about me, that he had thought me dead. + +"Is Madame de Montlivet safe? Are the Senecas here?" I clamored at him. + +A babel of affirmatives arose. Yes, madame was there. The Senecas +were there. So the English prisoner had proved to be a woman. Had I +known it at the time? I was a sly dog. All tongues talked at once, +while I fought for a hearing. We turned toward the commandant's. The +door of the nearest cabin opened and Starling came out. He did not +look toward us, and he walked the other way. The woman walked beside +him. + +A hush clapped down on us as if our very breathing were strangled. A +lane opened in front of me. I took one step in it, then stopped. +There was the woman. I had followed her through wounds and hardship. +Through the long nights I had watched the stars and planned for our +meeting. But when I would have gone to her my feet were manacled, for +this was not the woman of my dreams. This woman wore trailing silk, +and her hair was coifed. And she was walking away from me; no instinct +told her that I was near. She was walking away, and Starling walked +beside her. I did not remember that I was wounded and a sorry figure; +I did not remember that I was dressed in skins. I remembered that I +had married this woman by force, and that she had once wished of her +own accord to marry Starling. And now she walked with him; she wore a +gown he must have brought; she had forgiven him. A hot spark ran from +my heart to my brain. I turned and started toward the beach. + +I heard a breath from the throats around me and a stretching of cramped +limbs. Cadillac's arm dropped round my shoulders, and I felt the +pressure of his fingers. + +"Come to my quarters," he said. "You have mail waiting. And we will +find you something to wear. Dubisson is near your size." + +And so I let him lead me away. I pressed him for news of the Indian +situation, but he only shrugged and said, "Wait. Matters are quiescent +enough on the surface. We will talk later." + +It was strange. I bathed and dressed quite as I had done many times +before, when I had come in from months in camp; quite as if there were +no woman, and as if massacre were not knocking at the window. But I +carried a black weight that made my tongue leaden, and I excused myself +from table on the plea of going through my mail. + +The news the letters brought was good but unimportant. In the Montreal +packet was a sealed line in a woman's hand. + +"I have tracked my miniature," it read. "I mourned its disappearance; +I should welcome its return. Can you find excuses for the man who took +it from me? If you can, I beg that you let me hear them. He was once +my friend, and I am loath to think of him hardly." The note bore no +signature. It was dated at the governor's house at Montreal, and +directed to me at Michillimackinac. + +I was alone with Dubisson and I turned to him. "Madame Bertheau is at +Montreal?" + +He shrugged. "So I hear." + +"She has come to see her brother?" + +Now he grinned. "Ostensibly, monsieur." + +There was no need to hide my feeling from Dubisson, so I sat with my +chin sunk low and thought it over. I was ill pleased. I had been long +and openly in Madame Bertheau's train, and this was a land of gossips. +I turned to the lieutenant. + +"Madame de Montlivet, where is she housed?" + +He looked relieved. "She has a room next door. Starling we have taken +in with us. I would rather have a tethered elk. He is so big he fills +the whole place." + +Now, square issues please me. "Dubisson, why has no one offered to +take me to my wife?" + +The man laughed rather helplessly. "'T is from no lack of respect for +either of you, monsieur. But you said nothing, and Starling"---- + +"Yes, it is from Starling that I wish to hear." + +"Well, Starling has said---- Monsieur, why repeat the man's gossip?" + +"Go on, Dubisson." + +"After all, it is only what the Englishman has said. Madame, so far as +I know, has said nothing. But Starling has told us that yours was a +marriage of form only,--that the woman consented under stress, and +now"---- + +"And now regretted it?" + +"I am only quoting Starling. Monsieur, would you like to see your +wife?" + +I rose. "Yes. Will you send word and see if I may?" + +Dubisson bowed and left me with a speed that gave me a wry smile. The +laughter-loving lieutenant hated embarrassment as he did fast-days, and +I had given him a bad hour. + +He was back before I thought it possible. + +"She will see you at once in the commandant's waiting-room." He looked +at me oddly. + +"Your wife is a queenly woman, monsieur." + +The lights shone uncertainly in the commandant's waiting-room. It was +the room where I had met the English captive. From a defiant boy to a +court lady! It was a long road, and I was conscious of all the steps +that had gone to make it. I went to the woman in silk who waited by +the door. She stood erect and silent, but her eyes shone softly +through a haze, and when I bent to kiss her hand I found that she was +quivering from feet to hair. + +"Monsieur!" she whispered unsteadily, "monsieur!" Then I felt her +light touch. "God is good. I have prayed for your safety night and +day. Ah--but your shoulder! They did not tell me. Are you wounded, +monsieur?" + +I was cold as a clod. She had forgiven Starling. She had walked with +him. I answered the usual thing mechanically. "My shoulder,--it is a +scratch, madame." I kept my lips on her hand, and with the feeling her +touch brought me I could not contain my bitterness. "Madame, you wear +rich raiment. Does that mean that you and Lord Starling are again +friends?" + +She drew away. "Monsieur, should we not be friends?" + +"Have you forgiven Lord Starling, madame?" + +She looked at me with wistful quiet. In her strange gown she seemed +saddened, matured. And she answered me gravely. "Monsieur, please +understand. My cousin and I---- Why, we traveled side by side in the +Iroquois canoes. He served me, was careful of me; he--he has suffered +for me, monsieur. I was hard to him for a long time,--a longer time +than I like to remember. But I could not but listen to his +explanation. And, whatever he did, he is, after all, my cousin, and he +regrets deeply all that happened. As to this gown,--it is one I wore +in Boston. My cousin brought it in his canoe and left it here at the +garrison when he went west. Monsieur"---- + +"Yes, madame." + +"Monsieur, I was wrong when I suspected my cousin. I have an unkind +nature in many ways. He came here to find me,--for that alone. He +honors you greatly for all you have done for me. I hope that you will +give him opportunity to thank you as he wishes." + +I thought of Starling's great voice, his air of power. "I hope to meet +your cousin," I replied. + +It was a churlish return, and she had been gentle. The chill that fell +between us was of my making. I knew that with every second of silence +I was putting myself more deeply in the wrong. But I had to ask one +thing more. + +"Madame, they tell me here that you say that you regret our +marriage,--that I forced you to bear my name. Have you said that?" + +I could not be blind to the hurt in her face. "Monsieur, how can you +ask?" + +And then I was shamed. I knelt again to her hand. "Only to prove in +open words that Lord Starling lied. Did you think I doubted? No, +madame, no woman of our house has ever had finer pride or a truer +instinct. Believe me, I see that. But so the story flies. Madame, +all eyes are on us. We must define the situation in some manner as +regards the world. May I talk to you of this?" + +The hand under my lips grew warm. "Monsieur, we are to wait. When we +reach Montreal"---- + +"But, madame! These intervening months! It will be late autumn before +we return to Montreal." + +She drew in her breath. "Late autumn! Monsieur, what are your plans? +You forget that I know nothing. And tell me of your escape." + +I rose and looked down at her. "We have both escaped," I said, and +because emotion was smiting me my voice was hard. "Let us not talk of +it. I see that you are here, and I thank God. But I cannot yet bring +myself to ask what you have been through. I cannot face the horror of +it for you. I beg you to understand." + +But it was I who did not understand when she drew away. "As you will," +she agreed, and there was pride in her great eyes, but there was a +wound as well. "Yet why," she went on, "should a knowledge of human +tragedy harden a woman? It strengthens a man. But enough. Monsieur, +have you heard--the lady of the miniature is at Montreal?" + +I was slow, for I was wondering how I had vexed her. "You never saw +the miniature," I parried. "How can you connect a name with it, +madame?" + +She looked at me calmly. I hated her silk gown that shone like a +breastplate between us. She brushed away my evasion. + +"It is well known that you carried Madame Bertheau's miniature. You +were an ardent suitor, monsieur." + +Yes, I had been an ardent suitor. I remembered it with amaze. My +tongue had not been clogged and middle-aged, in those blithe days, and +yet those days were only two years gone. With this woman even Pierre +had better speech at his command. + +"Madame, who told you this?" + +"Monsieur, the tale is common property in Paris." + +"May I ask who told you, madame?" + +"My cousin, monsieur." + +"I thought so." + +She looked at me fairly, almost sadly, as if she begged to read my +mind. "Monsieur, why should you regret my knowing? It is to your +credit that you admire Madame Bertheau. They tell me that she is a +woman formed for love, beautiful, childlike, untouched by knowledge of +crime or hardship. Monsieur, forgive me. Are you willing---- May I +see the miniature?" + +The transition in my thought was so abrupt that I clapped my hand to my +pocket as if it were still there. + +"It--I am not carrying the miniature." + +"Did--did the Indians take it from you?" + +I stepped nearer. "Madame de Montlivet, what right have I to be +carrying another woman's miniature? I shall write the fact of my +marriage to Madame Bertheau, and the matter will be closed. No, the +Indians did not take the miniature. I buried it in the woods." + +"Monsieur, that was not necessary!" + +"I thought that it was, madame." + +She stood with a chair between us. "Monsieur," she said, with her eyes +down, "I wish that I had known. It was not necessary. Did you bury +the miniature when you married me?" + +I put the chair aside and stood over her. "No, madame, I did not bury +the miniature the day we were married. Do you remember the night of +the storm, the night when you asked me if I could save you from your +cousin? I rose early the next morning and digged a grave for the +picture. It is buried deep,--with all that I once thought that it +implied. If I confess now that it implied little you must find excuses +for me. I--my heart was in the camp in those days. The rest was +pastime. I have left pastimes behind, madame." + +She would not look at me, yet I felt her change. The flitting, +indescribable air of elation that marked her from all women in the +world came back. She was again the woman of the forest, the woman who +had waked with a song and looked with unhurried pulse into the face of +danger. I breathed hard and bent to her, but she kept her eyes away. + +"The fair little French face," she murmured. "You should not have put +it in the cold earth. You were needlessly cruel, monsieur." + +I bent lower. "I was not cruel. I gave her a giant sepulchre. That +is over. But I--I shall have another miniature. I know a skilled man +in Paris. Some time--some time I mean to have your portrait in your +Indian blouse; in your skin blouse with the sun in your hair." My free +hand suddenly crept to her shoulder, "May I have it? May I have it, +madame?" + +I cannot remember. Often as I have tried, I can never quite remember. +I am not sure that I heard her whisper. But I think that I did. She +quivered under my touch, but she did not draw away, and so we stood for +a moment, while my hand wandered where it had gone in dreams and rested +on her hair. "Mary!" I whispered, and once more we let the silence lie +like a pledge between us. + +But in the moment of silence I heard again what I had forgotten,--the +roar of the camp outside. It seemed louder than it had been, and it +claimed my thought. I checked my breath to listen, holding the woman's +hand in mine. And while we listened, Cadillac's loud step and cheerful +voice came down the passage. The woman drew her hand away, and I let +her go. I let her go as if I were ashamed. I have cursed myself for +that ever since. + +Cadillac stopped. "Are you there, Montlivet?" he called. "When you +are at leisure, come to my room." I heard his step retreat. + +And then I turned to the woman. But with Cadillac's voice a change had +come. My mind was again heavy with anxiety. I remembered the +thronging Indians without, the pressing responsibilities within. I +remembered the volcano under us. For the moment I could not think of +my personal claims on the woman. I could think only of my anxiety for +her. Yet I went to her and took her hand. + +"Mary,--I am weary of madame and monsieur between us,--you are my wife. +May I talk of our future?" + +I spoke in the very words I had used the night I asked her to marry +me,--to marry me for my convenience. I remembered it as I heard my +tongue form the phrase, and it recalled my argument of that time,--that +she must marry me because my plans were more to me than her wishes. + +She withdrew from me. "Monsieur Cadillac is waiting for you. You +wield great power." + +Something new had come to her tone. I would have none of it. "Mary, +may I talk to you?" + +But still she drew away. "Monsieur, I am confused, and you are needed +elsewhere. Not to-night, I beg you, not to-night." + +I could not protest. In truth, I knew that Cadillac needed me. I went +with her to the door. + +"To-morrow, then?" I begged. "Will you listen to-morrow, madame?" + +But she had grown very white. "You are important here. There is work +for you. Be careful of your safety. Please be careful." + +I took her hand. "Thank you, madame." + +There was much in my tone that I kept out of my words, but she was not +conscious of it. She was not thinking of herself, and her eyes, that +were on mine, were full of trouble. All the restraint that the last +weeks had taught her had come back to her look. + +"You wield great power," she repeated. "You are to be the leader of +the west. I see that. But oh, be careful! Good-night, monsieur." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +OVER CADILLAC'S TABLE + +I found Cadillac writing, writing. Letters were his safety valve. I +had only to look at his table to see how much he was perturbed. + +And when I sat across from him, with the candles between, I saw that he +was also perplexed. That was unusual, for commonly he was off-hand in +his judgments, and leaped to conclusions like a pouncing cat. He +looked at me through the candle-gloom and shook his head. + +"Montlivet, you have lost twenty pounds since I saw you, and aged. Out +on you, man! It is not worth it. We live ten years in one in this +wilderness. We throw away our youth. Then we go back to France and +find ourselves old men, worn out, uncouth, out at elbows, at odds with +our generation. It is not worth it. It is not worth it, I say." + +I was impatient. "What has happened since the Senecas came?" + +He made a tired grimace. "Principally that I have not slept," he +yawned. + +"You have seen no signs of an uprising?" + +He put his head between his hands, and I saw that he was indeed weary. +"There are never signs till the uprising is on us. You know that. I +have done what I could. The guards are trebled, and we sleep on our +swords. Montlivet, tell me. What have you been doing in the west?" + +I had expected him to finesse to this question. I liked it that he +gave it to me with a naked blade. + +"I have been forming an Indian league," I answered bluntly. + +He nodded. "I know. There have been rumors. Then I knew what you did +with the St. Lawrence tribes last year. Why did you not tell me when +you went through here last spring?" + +I shook my head. "I wished to prove myself. It was an experiment. +Then I desired a free hand." + +"You did not wish my help?" + +"I wished to test the ground without entangling you. If I +failed,--why, I was nothing but a fur trader. There had been no talk, +no explanations, nothing. A trader went west; he returned. That would +end it." + +"But if you succeeded?" + +I bowed to him. "If I succeeded I intended to come to you for help and +consultation, monsieur." + +I saw his eyes gleam. The man loved war, and his imagination was +fertile as a jungle. I knew that already he had taken my small vision, +magnified it a thousand-fold, and peopled it with fantasies. That was +the man's mind. Fortunately he had humor, and that saved him,--that +and letter-writing. He tapped out his emotion through noisy +finger-tips. + +"How much are you ready to tell me now?" he asked. + +"Everything,--if you have patience." I rested my well arm on the +table, and went carefully--almost day by day--over the time that +separated me from May. I gave detail but not embroidery. Facts even +if they be numerous can be disposed of shortly, if fancy and philosophy +be put aside. So my recital did not take me long. + +The gleam was still in Cadillac's eyes. "And, you think the western +tribes would follow you now?" + +"They would have followed me a week ago." + +He heard something sinister in my reply. "You could have wiped out +that Seneca camp," he meditated. + +"Yes, it could have been done." + +He gave me a look. "The Malhominis wished it?" + +"Yes." + +"And you thought it unwise?" + +"They could not have done it without a leader. And I could not lead +them. I had to come here." + +He smote the table till the candles flared. "You were wrong. You were +wrong. You could have gathered your forces and had the attack over in +a week,--in less time. Then you could have brought your troops with +you, and come to my aid. You were wrong." + +I moved the candles out of danger. "I had to follow madame," I said +mechanically. "She might have needed me." + +Cadillac's teeth clicked. "Madame"--he began, but he swallowed the +sentence, and rose and walked the floor. "Do you realize what you have +done? Do you realize what you have done?" he boiled out at me. "This +desertion may have cost you your hold with the western tribes." + +"I realize that." + +And then he cursed till the candles flared again. "It was the chance +of a lifetime," he concluded. + +Why does the audience always feel that they understand the situation +better than the actor? I was willing enough to let Cadillac rage, but +resentful of the time he was using. + +"What happened when the Senecas came?" I demanded. + +He looked at me with puffing lips. "You know nothing?" + +"Nothing." + +"But Madame de Montlivet"---- + +"I asked her no questions." + +He whistled under his breath. "Well--nothing happened. The flotilla +reached here at sundown three days ago. The Baron and his followers +met them at the beach and rushed the Senecas into the Huron camp. They +are there now." + +"But madame and Starling?" + +"I demanded them of Pemaou, and he made no objection." + +"He made no conditions?" + +"No." + +I frowned at that and thought it over. + +"What do you make of it?" Cadillac questioned. + +But I could only say I did not know. "Pemaou is skillful about using +us as his jailers," I went on. "That may be his object now. He +evidently finds some opposition in the Huron camp, or you would have +had massacre before this." + +"You think the Senecas are here for conquest?" + +"From all I could overhear, they are here to look over the situation +and exchange peace belts with the Hurons. If they can command a +sufficient force, they will fall on us now; if not, they will rejoin +the main camp and come to us later." + +Cadillac fingered his sword. "It is rather desperate," he said +quietly, and he smiled. "But we are not conquered yet. We shall have +some scalps first." + +I shook my head. "Your sword is ever too uneasy. We may hold off an +outbreak. They have been here three days, and they have not dared act. +You wish to call a council?" + +"If you will interpret." + +"Give me a day first to see what I can learn. I shall be out at +daybreak. What does Starling say?" + +"He talks of nothing but safe conduct home. He sticks to his tale +well. He is a simple-hearted, suffering man who has found his cousin +and whose mission is over. He is grateful for our hospitality, he is +grateful to you, he is grateful to everybody. How much shall we +believe?" + +"Not more than is necessary." + +"Montlivet, be frank. What do you make of the man?" + +I looked down. "He is a compelling man. He has a hero's frame." + +"I am not blind. I asked what the frame housed." + +With hate in my throat I tried to speak justly. "He has an intelligent +mind, but a coward's spirit. I think the two elements war in him +ceaselessly. I would not trust him, monsieur. Is he on friendly terms +with Pemaou now?" + +"I do not know." + +"I wish you would find out for me. You have agents." + +"Madame de Montlivet could tell you." + +I felt Cadillac's eyes. "I shall not question Madame de Montlivet +about her cousin." + +Perhaps my tone was weary. It is hard to hold up a shield night and +day. I was conscious that Cadillac's look altered. He withdrew his +glance; he pushed a hand toward me. + +"It is a shame, Montlivet." + +"Shall we let it go without discussion, monsieur?" + +"No. Montlivet, you are more a fool than any man I ever knew. You +have more strained ideas. You are preposterous. You belong to the +Middle Ages. Every one says so. Let me speak." + +"Not about my marriage, monsieur." + +"Why not? I am responsible. I let you saddle yourself with the +situation. You did it partly to save me. You are always doing some +crack-brained thing like that. I tell you, you are more a fool than I +ever knew. Perhaps that is the reason that we all went into mourning +when we thought the Iroquois had you." + +"Monsieur! Monsieur!" + +"No, wait, wait! I got you into this, I shall get you out. Unless the +Indians make trouble I shall send Starling home with a convoy of my own +Indians. Your--the woman shall go with him. Then we will see what can +be done about the marriage. The story shall go to the Vatican." + +I moved the candles that I might see his face without the play of light +and shadow between. + +"Monsieur, you forget. The story that you speak of is mine. If I wish +to refer it to the Vatican, I, myself, take it there. As to Madame de +Montlivet,--she may wish to go east with her cousin; she may wish to +remain here. The decision will rest with her. Monsieur?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"I may depend on you not to mention what we have just said to any one?" + +He gave me his hand. "Naturally, monsieur." + +His tone touched me. + +"Then to to-morrow's work," I said briskly. "Now I am to bed. I must +rise early." + +Cadillac went with me to the door, his arm on my well shoulder. I saw +by the delay in his walk that he had more to say. It came slowly. + +"Monsieur, one word. If you do not care to see madame,--if it is +awkward---- Well, I can arrange it without gossip. You need not see +her again, and no one need know. Leave that to me." + +Not see her again! I do not know what savage, insane thing sprang to +life in me. I struck down Cadillac's arm. + +"You take liberties. You meddle insufferably. She is my wife. I will +see her when I please." + +I like to think that I was not responsible, that it was the cry of a +baited animal that could stand no more. Yet all the torture Cadillac +had been giving me had been unconscious. He stepped back and looked at +me. + +"My God! You fool!" + +Oh, I could have knelt to him for shame! My tongue began apology, but +my face told a better tale. Cadillac held up his hand. + +"Stop. Montlivet, you love the Englishwoman? Why, I thought---- I +beg your pardon. I was the fool." + +I went stumblingly toward the door before I could face him. Then I +turned and held out my hand. "There is no monopoly in fools. +Monsieur, if to love a woman, to love her against her will and your own +judgment, to love her hopelessly,--if that is folly, well, I am the +worst of fools, the most incurable. I am glad for you to know this. +Will you forget that I was a madman, monsieur?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +FROM HOUR TO HOUR + +It was well that I slept alone that night, for more than once before +day dawned I found myself with my feet on the floor and my free arm +searching for a knife. I had flouted at imagination, but now every +howling dog became an Indian raising the death cry. I asked Cadillac +to double the guard before the woman's quarters, but even then I slept +with an ear pricked for trouble. And I was abroad early. + +There are no straight roads in the wilderness; all trails are devious. +So with an Indian's mind. I sat in Longuant's skin-roofed lodge and +filled hours with talk of Singing Arrow. The girl was to wed Pierre at +noon the next day. The marriage was to be solemnized in the chapel the +next afternoon, and the whites were to attend. The affair was perhaps +worth some talk, if Longuant and I had been squaws yawning over our +basket-work. But we were men with knives, and Fear was whispering at +our shoulders. + +The sun climbed, and noises and odors of midday came in the tent door. +I plumped out a direct question. + +"The tree of friendship that grows for the Ottawas and the French,--are +its roots deep, Longuant?" + +The old chief looked at me. "What has my brother seen?" + +"The Iroquois wolf, my brother. The Iroquois wolf snapping at the +roots of this stately tree. What will the Ottawas do, Longuant? Will +they drive the wolf away?" + +The chief still studied me. "When a tree is healthy," he argued, "a +wolf cannot harm it; as well dread the butterfly that lights on its +leaves or the ant that runs around its trunk. It is only when a tree +is unsound at heart that the snapping of a wolf can jar it. And an +unsound tree is dangerous. My brother will agree that it is best to +cut it down." + +I rose. "The wolf can do more than snap; his fangs are poisoned. +Listen, my brother. This tree of friendship is dear to me. I have +given labor to preserve it; I have watered it; I have killed the +insects and small pests that would have nibbled at its branches. Now +that I see its roots threatened, my heart is heavy and the sun looks +dim. Can my brother brighten the world for me? Can he tell me that my +fears are light as mist?" + +Longuant looked at the ground. In repose his face was very sad, as are +the faces of most savage leaders. + +"I have only two eyes, two ears," he crooned monotonously. "My brother +has as many. Let him use them." + +"And you will not lift your hatchet to save the tree?" + +Longuant raised his eyes. "The hatchet of the Ottawas is always +bright. My brethren will hold it in readiness. If the tree looks +strong and worth saving, they will raise the hatchet and defend it. If +the tree is unsound, they will put the hatchet at its roots." + +Well, I had my answer. And, to be just, I could not blame them. The +Ottawas were never a commanding people. Their chief was wise to throw +his vote with the winning side. But I turned away saddened. + +Longuant followed. "There is always a bed in the lodges of the Ottawas +for my brother of the red heart. Will he sleep in it?" + +I turned. "Would my head be safer if I did, O brother of the wise +tongue?" + +"My brother has said it." + +I took a Flemish knife from my pocket and handed it to him. + +"Take it, my brother, for my gratitude. It shall not cut the +friendship between us. It shall cut any stranger that would come +between your heart and mine. Longuant, I have a wife. She is fair, +and stars shine in her eyes. She has loved a daughter of your people. +I cannot hide in your lodge,--a man who carries a sword must use +it,--but will you take my wife and keep her? Will you keep her with +Singing Arrow for a few days?" + +Longuant thought a moment. He looked at the knife as if it were a +talisman to teach him how much he could trust me; he tried its edge, +put it in his pouch, and made up his mind. + +"My brother is keen and true as the blade of the knife. I will tell +him a story, a story that the birds sang. The eagle once married. He +married one of the family of the hawk. But the hawk found the eagle's +nest too high, so she flew lower to a nest near her own kin. Listen. +So long as the hawk stays near the hawk and is not seen with the eagle, +the wolf will spare her. But when she comes back to the eagle's nest +in the high tree, then let her beware. I have spoken. Now let my +brother go on his way and see what his eyes and ears can teach him." + +But I went my way with thought busier than eyes. So I must keep away +from the woman. I went to my room, found paper and a quill, and wrote +to her. It was the first time I had written her name. It seemed +foreign to me, almost a sad jest, as it flowed out under my hand. + +"I cannot come to you to-day," I wrote; "perhaps not for some days to +come. I shall be watching you, guarding you. I think I can assure you +that you are in no danger. For the rest, I must beg of you to wait for +me and to trust me. The women of the name you bear have often had the +same burden laid on them and have carried it nobly. Yet I know that +your courage will match and overreach anything they have shown. I +salute you, madame, in homage. I shall come to you the moment that I +may." + +I subscribed myself her husband. Yet even the Indians gossiped that +the eagle's nest was empty. Well, I had work on hand. + +So I found Cadillac. I told him in five minutes what it had taken me +five hours to learn. + +"We must give our strength now to winning the Hurons," I said. "I will +work with them this afternoon. If we can get through this one night +safely I think we can carry the council." + +Cadillac shrugged, but sped me on my way. "Be careful of to-night. Be +careful of to-night," he repeated monotonously. His eyes were growing +bloodshot from anxiety and loss of sleep. + +The afternoon slipped away from me like running water, yet I wasted no +word or look. I dropped my old custom of letting my tongue win the way +for my ears, and I dealt out blunt questions like a man at a forge. At +one point I was foiled. I could not discover whether Starling--whom +personally I had not seen--was in communication with the Hurons. + +The sun set, the sky purpled, and the moon rose. It rose white and +beautiful, and it shone on a peaceful settlement. I went to my room +and found a Huron squatting on my threshold. He gave me a handful of +maize. + +"Our chief, whom you call the Baron, sends this to you," he said. "He +bids you eat the corn, and swallow with it the suspicion that you feel. +You have sat all day with other chiefs, but your brother the Baron has +not seen you. His lodge cries out with emptiness. He bids you come to +him now." + +I thought a moment. "Go in front of me," I told the Huron. + +I whistled as I went. A sheep that goes to the shambles of its own +accord deserves to be butchered, and I was walking into ambush. But +still I whistled. I whistled the same tune again and again, and I did +it with great lung power. My progress was noisy. + +And so we went through the Huron camp. The lodges of the Baron's +followers were massed to one side, and as I whistled and swaggered my +way past their great bark parallelograms, I saw preparations for war. +The braves carried quivers, and were elaborately painted. Fires were +burning, though the night was warm, and women nearly naked, and +swinging kettles of red-hot coals, danced heavily around the blaze. +They leered at me when they heard my whistle, but they made no attempt +to hide from me. Evidently I was not important; I was not to be +allowed to go back to the French camp alive, so I could do no harm. I +whistled the louder. + +I reached the Baron's lodge, and looked within. Two fires blazed in +the centre, and some fifty Indians sat in council. I would not enter. +The smoke and fire were in my eyes, but I recognized several of the +younger chiefs, and called them by name. + +"Come out here to me," I commanded. "I will show you something." + +There was a grunting demur, and no one rose. I whistled again and +stopped to laugh. The laugh pricked their curiosity, and the chiefs +straggled out. They stood in an uncertain group and looked at me. It +was dark; the moon was still low, and the shadows black and sprawling. +The open doors of the lodges sent out as much smoke as fireshine. + +I let them look for a moment, then I took the handful of maize and +threw it in their faces. "Listen!" I cried. "Chiefs, you are +traitors. You eat the bread of the French, yet you would betray them. +You plan an uprising to-night. Well, you will find us ready. I +whistled as I came to you. That was a signal. You think you can +overpower us. Try it. Seize me, if you like. If you do, I shall give +one more whistle, and my troops--the loyal Indians--will go to work. +You can see them gathering. Look." + +I waved my hand at the murk around us. My words were brave but my +flesh was cold. I had told them to look, but what would they see? +Would my men be loyal? Then the signal,--it had been hastily agreed +upon,--would they understand it? I had to push myself around like a +dead body to face what I might find. + +For a moment I thought that I had found nothing. But I looked again, +and saw that my eyes had been made blank by fear. For my men were +massed to east and west. They pressed nearer and nearer, and the moon +picked out points of light that marked knives and arquebuses. Some +wore uniforms, and some were naked and vermilion-dyed, but all were +watching me. I could not see their eyes, but I was conscious of them. + +I pointed the chiefs to the prospect. "You see. I have only to +whistle, and we shall settle this question of who is master here. +Seize me, and I shall whistle. But I shall do nothing till you move +first. If we are to have war, you must begin it. Are you ready?" + +Silence followed. It was a hard silence to me to get through calmly, +for I knew that my men were not so numerous as they appeared, and I +feared to be taken at my word. Pemaou glided up and spoke to his +father. I had not seen him since the night in the Seneca camp, and I +argued with myself to keep my head cool so that I should not spring on +him. His body was blackened with charcoal, and he wore a girdle of +otter skin with the body of a crow hanging from it. I had sometimes +been called the crow because of my many tongues, and I understood his +meaning. But I could only stand waiting, and the moments went on and +on. + +It was a small thing that determined the issue. In the distance Pierre +began to whistle,--Pierre, the bridegroom of the morrow, the merry +bully of the night. He had a whistle in keeping with his breadth of +shoulder, and he used it like a mating cock. He whistled my tune, the +signal. It was not accident, I think, neither was it design. It was +his unconscious, blundering black art, his intuition that was +witchcraft. + +The Baron drew himself up. He put out a protesting hand, and his +dignity of gesture would have shamed an Israelitish patriarch. + +"We called our brother to council. What does our brother mean? He is +moon-mad when he talks of war in the house of his friends, the Hurons." + +I yawned in his face. "You called me to council? But the council is +to-morrow night. The commandant calls it. Save your fair words for +him." + +I turned on my heel to leave, but the Baron held me. He eyed me above +his blanket. + +"My brother has been called the man who steals the Indian's heart from +his body," he purred at me. "He has stolen mine. The commandant is a +fool; I cannot talk to him. But to you, my brother, I can open my +heart. Come with me to my lodge and listen. You shall be safe. In +token of my love I give you this calumet," and he took his great +feathered pipe--the pipe that means honor to the lowest of savages--and +would have thrust it in my hands. + +I was too nonplussed to remember to laugh. An offer to buy me, and +from the Indian who hated me most! They must indeed be afraid of +me,--and with what little cause. Where had my reputation come? I knew +my own weakness. Well, I must play on my fame while it lasted. So, +without deigning to answer, I turned away. My troops hedged me like a +wall as I went back to the French camp, but I did not speak to them. +It was strange to see them melt before me. I did not wonder that the +Hurons smelled witchcraft where, in fact, there was only bluster and a +pleading tongue. + +I stood for a moment and looked at the garrison. The moon had crept +high and the place was very still. We were safe for the night. I lit +my pipe, and the smoke that spiraled above me did not seem more filmy +than the chance that had saved us. I suddenly shivered. But we were +safe. I gave the troops the signal to disband. + +I stopped for a moment at Cadillac's door. "Sleep well," I said, with +my hand on his; "we have bridged to-night. Now for the council +tomorrow." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +IN COUNCIL + +The next morning showed the face of War without her mask. The Indians +sat in open council, and the tom-toms sounded from lodge to lodge. In +the Huron camp there were council rings of the women; it was a tribal +crisis and was met by a frenzy of speech-making. As a rival interest +Singing Arrow's wedding made little stir. + +I went to the wedding and saw Pierre the savage transformed into Pierre +the citizen, the yoke-bearer. I feared the transformation was not +final. Yet I could never read my giant. There were unexpected ridges +of principle in the general slough of his makeup and perhaps the Indian +girl was resting on one of them. + +The woman came to the wedding, Starling with her. I bowed to them +both, but I would do no more, for the Indians were watching. The woman +looked pale and grave. I had seen her angry and I had seen her +despairing, but I had never before seen her dispirited. She looked so +now. + +And then came the general council with Cadillac in the chair. It was +held in a barrack room and the tribes had forty chiefs in waiting. +There were Ottawas, Hurons, and the party of Senecas. Feathered and +painted, they were as expressionless as the stone calumets in their +hands; by contrast, our French faces were childishly open and +expressive. + +Cadillac looked them over and began his speech. Commonly his tongue +ran trippingly, but with the opening words his speech halted. I knew +he was moved. With all his volubility the man took responsibility +heavily, and these strange bronze men with their cruel eyes and +impassive faces were his wards. He spoke in French, and I translated +first to the Hurons, then to the Ottawas. He called the tribes to aid +him in brightening the covenant chain, and his rhetoric mounted with +his theme till I felt my blood heat with admiration for him. He +concluded with a plea for loyalty, and he gave each nation a belt to +bind his words. + +And then the chiefs rose in reply. The Hurons spoke first, and though +they hedged their meaning by look and word I could feel the sentiment +swaying toward our side. They brought up many minor points and gave +belts in confirmation. Kondiaronk's clan were openly friendly, openly +touched by Cadillac's speech, and when one of the Baron's band took the +cue and gave a wampum necklace, "to deter the French brothers from +unkind thoughts," I felt that the worst of the day was over, and +welcomed the Ottawa speakers with a relaxation of the tension that had +held me, for I had been upon the rack. Mind and ear had been taxed to +miss no word or intonation, for a slighted syllable might lose our +cause. The speeches had droned like flies at midday, but all the +verbiage had been heavy with significance. I spoke French, Huron, and +Ottawa in turn, and through it all I listened, listened for the opening +of the door. + +For Cadillac had told me that Madame de Montlivet had asked if she +might come in for a moment and listen to the council, and he had +referred the matter to me. It had seemed a strange request, but I +could see no reason for refusing it. The woman had seen Indians in +camp and field; it was perhaps no wonder that she wished to see the +machinery of their politics. It was agreed that Dubisson should bring +her in for a short time. + +Yet when she did come in I could not look at her. Longuant had just +finished speaking, and I had all my mind could handle to do him justice +as I wished. He spoke as the moderate leader who desired that his +people leave the hatchet unlifted if they could do so with safety. He +gave a robe stained with red to show that his people remembered the +French who had died for them. + +I knew, as I repeated Longuant's speech, that I was doing it well, +helping it out with trick and metaphor. And I also knew, with a shrug +for my childishness, that my wits were working more swiftly than they +had, because the woman was listening. I saw the whole scene with added +vividness and significance because her eyes rested on it, too. Once I +glanced up and looked at her briefly. Day had slipped into dusk, and +the bare, shadow-haunted room was lighted with torches stuck in the +crannies of the log walls. The flaring light lapped her like a waving +garment and showed her daintily erect, silk-clad, elate and resolute, a +flower of a carefully tended civilization. And then my eyes went back +where they belonged, to the lines of warriors robed like senators, +attentive and august, full of wisdom where the woman knew nothing, yet +blank as animals to the treasures of her mind. The contrast thrilled +through me like a violin note. I heard my tongue use imagery that I +did not know was in me. The woman waited till I was through, and I +could feel that she was listening. Then she turned with Dubisson and +they went out of the door. + +Longuant was the last of our garrison Indians to speak, and when he +finished it remained to Cadillac to sum up the situation. He picked +out the oldest men from each delegation and stood before them. Yet, +though he spoke to all, it was at Longuant that he looked. + +"Listen," he said. "Hast ever seen the moon in the lake when the +evening is clear and the weather calm? It appears in the water, yet +nothing is truer than that it is in the sky. Some among you are very +old; but know, that were you all to return to early youth and take it +into your heads to fish up the moon in the lake, you would more easily +succeed in scooping that planet up in your nets than in effecting what +you are ruminating now. In vain do you fatigue your brains. You +cannot live with the bear and share your food with the wolf. You must +choose. Be assured of this; the English and French cannot be in the +same place without killing one another." + +There was more in the same vein. Only one nation could hold the +country for the fur trade. If the French were that nation the Indians +would be protected, their fighting men would be given arms, their +families would be cared for, the great father at Quebec would reward +them as brothers. He gave the Hurons and Ottawas each a war belt to +testify to his intention. + +Here was the crisis. But each tribe took the belt and kept it. I +could scarcely forbear glancing at Cadillac. But I dared not be too +elated, for we had yet the Senecas to deal with. Cadillac turned to +them and asked their mission among us. He did it briefly, and I hoped +they would answer with equal bluntness, for I dreaded this part of the +council. All of the Iroquois nations were trained rhetoricians, and I +would need a long ear to catch their verbal quibbles and see where +their sophistry was hiding. + +Cannehoot, their oldest chief, spoke for them all. He made proposal +after proposal with belts and tokens to seal them. His speech was +moderate, but his ideas crowded; it was hard to keep them in sequence. + +They had come to learn wisdom of us. They gave a belt. + +They had come to wipe the war paint from our soldiers' faces. They +gave another belt. + +They wished the sun to shine on us. They gave a large marble as red as +the sun. + +They wished the rain of heaven to wash away hatred. They gave a chain +of wampum. + +And so on and on and on. They gave belts, beavers, trinkets. They had +peace in their mouths and kindness in their hearts. They desired to +tie up the hatchet, to sweep the road between the French and themselves +free from blood. But with that clause they gave no belt. They made no +mention of the English prisoners, and they desired to close their +friendly visit and to go home. + +Cadillac looked at them with contempt. He was always too choleric to +hide his mind, and he answered with little pretense at civility. He +gave them permission to go home, and sent a knife by them to their +kindred. It was not for war, he told them, but that they might cut the +veil that hung before their eyes, and see things as they really were. +He left their belts lying on the floor, and dismissed the council. He +motioned to me to follow, and we went at once to his room. + +And alone in his room we looked at each other with relief. We had +gained one point, and though the road was long ahead, we could breathe +for a moment. We had not healed the sore, but it was covered, +cauterized. We dropped into chairs and sought our pipes. + +But Cadillac's fingers were soon drumming. "It was odd that they did +not demand the English prisoners," he said. + +I felt placid enough as regarded that point. "They did not dare. When +do the Senecas leave?" + +"To-morrow morning. Oh, Montlivet, it grinds me to let them go!" + +I shrugged at his choler. "We will follow," I comforted. "We will +overtake them at La Baye." + +"But suppose they leave La Baye. They may break camp at once and push +on. We may miss them." + +I smoked, and shook my head. "If they do, we cannot help it. But I +think there is no danger. They will want to halt some time at La Baye, +and try for terms with those tribes. My work there has been +secret,--even Pemaou does not seem to know of it,--and they do not +suspect a coalition. So they feel safe. I think that we shall find +them." + +And then we sat for a time in silence. I stared at the future, and saw +a big decision beetling before me. When I dread a moment, I rush to +meet it, which is the behavior of a spoiled boy. + +"You will get rid of Starling to-morrow?" I asked. + +Cadillac nodded. "Yes. He is best out of the way, and, though I see +nothing to mistrust in the man, I shall feel better if he goes east +while the Senecas go west." + +"How will you send him?" + +"To Montreal with an escort of Ottawas. From there he can make his own +way." + +I looked down. "Madame de Montlivet may wish to go at the same time. +You must arrange for her also if she wishes." + +Cadillac shrugged. "You leave the decision with her?" + +"Absolutely, monsieur." + +Cadillac rapped his knuckles together. "Don't run romanticism into the +ground, Montlivet." + +But my inflammable temper did not rise. "A woman certainly has some +right of selection. Starling says that I forced her to marry me. That +is substantially true. What time do you plan to have Starling leave?" + +"As early as possible. I shall not tell him tonight. It will take a +little time to get the canoes in readiness." + +"Then I shall see Madame de Montlivet in the morning, as early as +possible. I shall let you know her decision at once, monsieur." + +"Montlivet, she will need time to consider." + +I shook my head. "She has thought the matter out. I think her answer +will be ready." And then we said good-night. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +CHILDREN OF OPPORTUNITY + +It was but little after dawn the next morning when I met Madame de +Montlivet in the waiting-room of the commandant. + +It was a crisp, clear morning, blue of water and sky. I stood at the +window and looked at the water-way that led to the east, and waited for +my wife. I had several speeches prepared for her, but when she came I +said none of them. I took her hand and led her to the window. + +"Look at the path of the sun, madame. It was just such a morning when +you came to me first." + +Her hand lingered a moment in mine. "I came to the most gallant +gentleman that I have ever known." + +With all the kindness of her words there was something in them that +spoke of parting. "Then will you stay with him?" I cried. "Mary, I +know no gallant gentleman. To me he seems much a fool and a dreamer. +But such as he is he is loyally yours. Will you stay with him? Or +will you start for Montreal this morning with your cousin?" + +"This morning?" + +"Yes, as soon as the canoes can be made ready. I did not know this +till after midnight. I wish I might have warned you." + +"This is warning enough. I was sure that this was what you had to tell +me when you asked for me so early. There is but one thing for me to +do. I must go with my cousin." + +I heard the words, but I felt incredulous, stupid. I was prepared to +meet this decision after argument, not to have it fall on me in this +leaden way. I dropped her hand and walked to and fro. It was useless +to ask if she had thought out her decision carefully. Her tone +disposed of that. I went back and stood before her. + +"The question is yours to decide. Yet I should be a strange man if I +let you go without being sure I understood your motives. If you go +because you wish to be free from me,--that is all that need be said. +But if I have failed to woo you as a man should---- You sealed my +lips. Will you let me open them now?" + +Perhaps my hand went out to her. At all events she drew away, and I +thought her look frightened, as if something urged her to me that she +must resist. + +"No, no, you must not woo me, you must not. I beg you, monsieur." + +I looked at her panic and shook my head. + +"Why do you fear to love me, to yield to me? You are my wife." + +"I told you. I told you the day--the last day that we were together in +the woods. It would be a tragedy if we loved, monsieur." + +"But you are my wife." + +She looked at me. The light from the window fell full in her great +eyes, and they were the eyes of the boy who had looked up at me in that +very room; the boy who had captured me, against my reason, by his +spirit and will, I felt the same challenge now. + +"I am your wife, yes," she was saying slowly. "That is, the priest +said some words over us that we both denied in our hearts. I cannot +look at marriage in that way, monsieur. No priest, no ritual can make +a marriage if the right thing is not there. The fact that you gave me +your name to shield me does not give me a claim on you in my mind. +Wait. Let me say more. You have great plans, great opportunity. You +will make a great leader, monsieur." + +Her words sounded mockery. "Thank you, madame." I knew my tone was +bitter. + +She looked at me reproachfully. "Monsieur, you are unkind. I meant +what I said. I heard you in the council yesterday. I asked to go in +that I might hear you. I know something of what you have done this +summer. I know how you fended away massacre the other night. This is +a crucial time, and you are the only man who can handle the situation; +the only man who has influence to lead the united tribes. Your +opportunity is wonderful. You are making history. You may be changing +the map of nations, you--alone here--working with a few Indians. +Believe me, I see it all. It is wonderful, monsieur." + +"But what has this to do with you and me?" + +"Just this, monsieur. I cannot forget my blood. I am an Englishwoman. +I come of a family that has chosen exile rather than yield a point of +honor that involved the crown. I have been bred to that idea of +country, nurtured on it. Could I stay with you and see you work +against my people? If I were a different sort of woman; if I were the +gentle girl that you should marry,--one who knew no life but flattery +and courts, like the lady of the miniature,--why, then it might be +possible for me to think of you only in relation to myself, and to +forget all that you stood for. But I am--what I am. I have known +tragedy and suffering. I cannot blind myself with dreams as a girl +might, and I understand fully the significance of what you are doing. +We should have a divided hearth, monsieur." + +She had made her long speech with breaks, but I had not interrupted +her. And now that she had finished I did not speak till she looked at +me in wonder. + +"I am thinking. I see that it comes to this, madame. I must renounce +either my work or my wife." + +She suddenly stretched out her hand. "Oh, I would not have you +renounce your work, monsieur!" + +A chair stood in front of her, and I brushed it away and let it clatter +on the floor. + +"Mary! Mary, you love me!" + +"No, no!" she cried. "No, monsieur, it need not mean I love you,--it +need not." She fled from me and placed a table between us. "Surely a +woman can understand a man's power, and glory in it--yes, glory in it, +monsieur--without loving the man!" + +"But if you did love me,--if you did love me, what then?" + +"Oh, monsieur, the misery of it for us if we loved! I have seen it +from the beginning, though at times I forgot. For there is nothing for +us but to part." + +"Many women have forgotten country for their husbands. The world has +called them wise." + +She put out her hand. "Not in my family, monsieur." + +And then the face of Lord Starling came before me. "You have changed +from the woman of the wilderness. You changed when you put on this +gown. You were different even three days ago. Some influence has +worked on you here." + +She understood me. "Yes, my cousin has talked to me. Yet I think that +I am not echoing him, monsieur. If I have hardened in the last few +days, it is because I have come to see the inevitableness of what I am +saying now. I have grasped the terrible significance of what is +happening. May I ask you some questions?" + +"Yes, Mary." + +"Oh, you must not---- The Seneca messengers, you will let them go back +and rejoin their camp?" + +"We can do nothing else." + +"And you will follow them, and attack them at La Baye?" + +"So we plan." + +"But the Senecas trust you." + +"Not for a moment. They think we fear their power over the Hurons,--as +we do,--so they are reckless. They are undoubtedly carrying peace +belts from our Hurons to the Iroquois and the English. We must +intercept them." + +She tried to ward my words, and all that they stood for, away. "You +see! You see!" she cried, "we must part. We must part while we can. +Monsieur, say no more. I beg you, monsieur." And she dropped in a +chair by the table and laid her head in her arms. + +I could say nothing. I stood helpless and dizzy. I had asked her to +forget her country. Yet not once had she asked me to forget mine. If +I gave up my plans I could go to her now and draw her to my breast. I +gripped the table, and I did not see clearly. To save her life I had +jeopardized my plans; to follow her here I had jeopardized them again. +But now that I knew her to be safe---- No, I could not turn back; I +must walk the path I had laid for myself. + +"What will you do with yourself, with your life?" I asked with stiff +lips. + +She did not raise her head. "We are both children of opportunity. +What is left either of us but ambition, monsieur?" + +"You will help your cousin in his plans?" + +"If he will work for the state." + +"But you will not marry him?" + +"Monsieur, I bear your name! That--that troubles me sorely. To bear +your name yet work against France! Yet what can I do?" + +I touched her hair. "Carry my name and do what you will. I shall +understand. As to what the world thinks,--we are past caring for that, +madame." + +And then for a time we sat silent. I thought, with stupid iteration, +of how like a jest this had sounded when the woman said it to me in the +forest: a matter for coquetry, a furnishing of foils for the game. If +I had realized then---- But no, what could I have done? + +One thing my thought cried incessantly,--women were not made for +patriotism. Yet even as accompaniment to the thought, a long line of +women who had given up life and family for country passed before my +memory. Could I say that this woman beside me had not equal spirit? + +It seemed long that we sat there, though I think that it was not. I +laid my hand on hers, and she turned her palm that she might clasp my +fingers. + +"You have never failed me, never, never," she whispered. "You are not +failing me now." And then I heard Starling's voice at the door calling +my name. + +I opened to him mechanically, and accepted his pleasant phrases with a +face like wood, though my manner was apt enough, I think. I had no +feeling as regarded him; all my thought was with the woman by the table. + +He went to her with his news, but she interrupted him. "I know." Her +face was as expressionless as my own. "I am going with you," she said +to him. "When do we leave?" + +"In a few minutes." He looked from one to the other of us, and if he +could not probe the situation it was perhaps no wonder. We had +forgotten him, and we sat like dead people. For once his tremendous, +compelling presence was ignored, yet my tongue replied to him +courteously, and I could not but admit the perfection of his attitude. +He deplored the necessity that took his cousin from me; he, and all of +his people, labored under great indebtedness to me. He was dignified, +direct of thought and speech. The man whom I had seen by the dead +ashes of the camp fire; the man who had held my wife's miniature, and +taunted me with what it meant,--that man was gone. This was an elder +brother, a grave elder brother, chastened by suffering. + +The woman closed the scene. "I am prepared to go with you," she told +him. "I shall wait here till the canoes are ready. Will you leave me +with my husband?" + +She had never before said "husband" in my hearing. As soon as the door +clicked behind Starling I went to her. I knelt and laid my cheek on +her hand. + +"You are going to stay with me, Mary. You are my wife. You cannot +escape that. It is fundamental. Patriotism is a man-made feeling. +You are going to stay with me. I am going now to tell Cadillac." + +But I could feel her tremble. "If you say more, I must leave you. You +cannot alter my mind. What has come must come. Can we not sit +together in silence till I go?" + +And so I sat beside her. "You are a strange woman," I said at length. + +She looked at me as if to plead her own cause. "Strange events have +made me. I cannot marvel if you are bitter, for I have brought you +unhappiness. Yet it was in this room that I asked you to remember that +I went with you against my will." + +"I remember." + +"And will you remember what--what I have seen? Is it strange that I +understand; that I know we must part?" + +I shook my head. "It is your cousin's mind impressed on yours that +tells you that we must part,--that and your unfathomable spirit,--the +spirit that carried you in man's dress through those weeks as a +captive. It is that same spirit that will bring you back to me some +day." + +"Monsieur!" + +"That will bring you back." + +"Monsieur, no. I cannot change myself." + +"Would I have you change? Mary, Mary! I took you as a boy with me to +the wilderness because you had an unbreakable will and a fanatic's +courage. Yet this is not the end. It is not the end." + +She did not answer, and again she laid her head on the table. We had +but a few minutes left now. I saw her look up at me twice before I +heard her whisper, "Monsieur, you said that I loved you. But you never +said that you"---- + +"Would it change your decision if I said it now?" + +"No, no! It could not." + +I slipped to my knees and laid my lips on her clasped hands. "You are +part of me. You go with me whether you will or no. You are in the red +sunsets that we saw together, and in the white dawns when we ate our +meal and meat side by side. You are fettered to me. I cannot rid +myself of your presence for a moment. I shall tell you more of this +when you come to me again." + +She bent to me with the color driven from her lips. "Don't! Don't! +We will learn to forget. We are both rulers of our wills. We will +learn to forget. Wait---- Are they calling me?" + +We listened. Cadillac was at the door. We both rose. + +"In a moment," I called to him. Then I turned. "Whatever happens, +keep to the eastward. Don't let your Indians turn. Refuse, and make +Starling refuse, to listen to any change of plan." + +She was trembling. She seemed not to hear me, and I said the words +again. "You must promise. You are not to go to the west." + +And then she put out her hands to me. "Yes, yes, I understand. I +promise. I shall not go west. But, monsieur, do not--do not go with +me to the shore. Let me go alone. Let us part here." + +I could have envied her the power to tremble. I felt like stone. I +had but one arm, but I drew her to me till I felt her heart on mine. +"This is not the end. This is not the end. But till you come to me +again"---- And I would have laid my lips on hers. + +But she was out of my grasp. "We--we---- It was a compact. If we---- +If we did that, we could not part. Good-by, monsieur. I beg you not +to go with me. God be with you. God be with you, monsieur." + +I followed to the door and held to its casing as I looked after her. +She had met Cadillac, and was walking with him. She, whom I had always +seen erect, was leaning on his arm. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +I FOLLOW MY PATH + +A full hour later I went to Cadillac. "I am leaving," I said. "I am +taking Pierre. The Ottawa girl, his wife, says she is going with us. +It is foolish,--but Pierre wishes it. He is dough in her hands." + +Cadillac shook my well shoulder. "Go to bed for a day. You are ash +color." + +"No, I must be on my way. The time is short enough as it is. Have the +Senecas gone?" + +"No, it will be some hours before they are ready. If you start now, +you will be enough in advance to keep out of sight." + +I could not forbear a shrug. "Three hours' start to collect an army! +Well, it shall serve. And you follow to-morrow?" + +Cadillac gave a trumpeting laugh. "Yes, tomorrow. I shall take a +hundred men and leave a hundred here for guard. I have made +arrangements. Longuant leads the Ottawas, and old Kondiaronk the loyal +Hurons. Where shall we meet you?" + +"I cannot tell. Stop at the Pottawatamie Islands and Onanguisse will +know. Keep watch of Pemaou. He will make trouble if he can." + +Cadillac looked at the horizon. "Montlivet, I have bad news. Pemaou +has gone." + +"Gone! Where?" + +"I don't know. To the Seneca camp, probably. His canoes have just +left." + +I tapped the ground. I was tired and angry. "You should have +prevented such a possibility," I let myself say. + +But he kept his temper. "What could I have done?" he asked quietly. +"I have no authority in my garrison." + +I regretted my outburst. "You could not have done anything," I +hastened. "And if Pemaou has indeed gone to the Senecas, it is good +news for me. I am impatient for a meeting with him that I did not dare +have here for fear of entangling myself and losing time. I shall hope +for an encounter in the west. And now I am away, monsieur." + +I wished to leave with as little stir as possible, so Pierre took the +canoe around the point, and I joined him there. To reach the +rendezvous I walked through the old maize field where I had met the +English captive. It had been moonlight then. Now it was hot noon, and +the waves of light made me faint. I had forgotten breakfast. I cursed +myself at the omission, for I needed strength. + +But I was not to leave quite unattended. When I reached the canoe, I +found Father Carheil talking to Singing Arrow. I was glad to see him. +There was something that propped my pride and courage in his irritable, +tender greeting. + +He pressed a vial into my hands. "It is confection of Jacinth. It has +great virtue. Take it with you, my son." + +I knelt. "I would rather take your blessing, father." + +He gave it to me, and his old hands trembled. "Come back, my son. +Come back safely. You will return this way?" + +I looked off at the blue, beckoning west. "I do not know, father. I +go without ties or responsibilities. I am not sure where I shall end. +I doubt that I return this way." + +"But where, my son? Where do you go?" + +I pointed, and his mystic glance followed my hand. "Out there in the +blue, father,--somewhere. I don't know where. It has beckoned you +thus far; can you resist its cry to you to come farther and force its +secrets from it?" + +He clutched his rosary, and I knew I had touched one of his +temptations. He loved the wilderness as I have never seen it loved. +Even his fellow priests and the few soldiers and traders crowded him. +He wanted the land alone,--alone with his Indians. He would not look +at the blue track. + +"It is the path of ambition, and it is strewn with wrecks. Come back +to us here, my son." + +But I would not look away from the west. "Some day I shall come back. +Not now. Father, I married Ambition. She lives in the wilderness. I +think I shall abide with her the next year." + +He frowned at me. "Where has Madame de Montlivet gone?" + +"She has started for her home in England, father." + +He tapped his teeth with his forefinger. "You sent a curious guard +with her. Take the advice of an old man who has lived among Indians. +It is usually unwise to mix tribes." + +"What do you mean?" + +"You should have sent a guard of Ottawas with your wife and Starling." + +"They were all Ottawas." + +"No, they were more than half Hurons. I counted." + +I jammed my teeth together and tried to think. I had just said that +the west was calling me, that I was untrammeled. Untrammeled! Why, I +was enmeshed, choked by conflicting duties. I put my head back, and +breathed hard. + +"Father, are you sure? Cadillac himself saw to it that they were all +Ottawas." + +The priest stepped forward and wiped his handkerchief across my face. +It was wet. "My son, take this more calmly. Cadillac does not know +one Indian from another. Does this mean harm?" + +I shook the sweat from my fingers. "I do not know what it means. But +I must go west. I must. Hundreds of men depend on me. Father +Carheil?" + +"Yes, my son." + +"I bound you once on this very spot. May I bind you again?" + +"With promises?" + +"Yes. Will you see Cadillac at once, tell him what you know, and have +a company of Ottawas sent in pursuit of Lord Starling? Will you +yourself see that it is rightly done?" + +His foot drummed a tattoo. "I ask no favors of the commandant." + +"Father!" + +"Oh yes, I"---- + +"Then go at once, I beg you. Hasten." + +He shook his head at me, but he turned and ran. I watched him a +moment, then I stepped in the canoe. + +"I will take a paddle," I told Pierre. "I can do something with my +left hand. Singing Arrow must take one, too." + +It had come to me before in my life to be compelled to force the +apparently impossible out of opportunity. But never had I asked myself +to attempt such a task as this. I had only one day the start of +Cadillac, and in that time I must collect an army. But if success were +within human reach I was well armored to secure it, for I carried a +desperate heart. + +So if I say we went swiftly, it conveys no meaning of what we really +accomplished. We paddled as long as our arms would obey us, slept +sparingly, and paddled again. Singing Arrow was worth two men. She +paddled for us, cooked for us, and packed the bales when our hands +blundered with weariness. She was tireless. + +And watching her I saw something lived before me day by day that I had +tried to forget was in the world. There was love between this Indian +woman and my peasant Pierre. They had found the real love, the love +that is wine and meat. It was very strange. Pierre was quiet, and he +was wont to be boisterous, but he looked into the girl's eyes, and I +saw that both of them forgot that the hours of work were long. I have +not seen this miracle many times, though I have seen many marriages. +What had Pierre done that he should find it? + +Well, the west called me. And if a man whines under his luck, that +proves that he deserves all that has happened. + +And so we reached the Pottawatamie Islands. + +We were so cramped and exhausted that we staggered as we tried to walk +from the canoe, yet we remained at the islands but an hour. And in +that hour I talked to Onanguisse and the old men, and perfected our +plans. When we embarked again we had two large canoes with +strong-armed Pottawatamies at the paddles. We were on our way to the +Malhominis, and I slept most of the distance, for nature was in revolt. +Yet through all my heavy slumber droned the voice of Onanguisse, and +always he repeated what he had said when we parted. + +"I called her the turtle dove. But at heart she was an eagle. Did you +ask her to peck and twitter like a tame robin? I could have told you +that she would fly away." + +We reached the mouth of the Wild Rice River at evening, and pushed up +through the reeds in the darkness. I knew if Pemaou was lying in +ambush for me this would be the place for him. But we reached the +village safely, so I said to myself that the Huron had grown +slow-witted. + +In other times, in times before the broth of life had lost its salt, I +should have enjoyed that moment of entry into the Malhominis camp. The +cry that met me was of relief and welcome, but I ignored all greetings +till I had pushed my way to the pole where the dried band of rushes +still hung. I tore it away, and hung a silver chain in its place. +"Brother!" I said to Outchipouac, and he gave me his calumet in answer. + +And then I had ado to compel a hearing. The Malhominis repented their +injustice, and would have overpowered me with rejoicings and flattery, +but I made them understand at last that I had but two hours to spend +with them, and they quieted like children before a tutor. My first +question was for news of Labarthe and Leclerc, but I learned nothing. +Indeed, the Malhominis could tell me nothing of the Seneca camp beyond +the fact that it was still there. They had cowered in their village +dreading a Seneca attack, and they were feverishly anxious for +concerted action. They suggested that I save time by sending +messengers to the Chippewas and Winnebagoes, while I went myself to the +Sac camp. + +This was good advice and I adopted it. I drew maps on bark, gave the +messengers my watchword, and instructed them what to say. The +rendezvous I had selected was easy to find. Some few miles south of +the Seneca camp a small river debouched into La Baye des Puants. We +would meet there. Cadillac and the Pottawatamies would come together +from the north; the Malhominis, the Winnebagoes, and the Chippewas +would come separately, and I would lead the Sacs under my command. All +was agreed upon, and I saw the messengers dispatched. Then I took a +canoe and eight men, and started on my own journey. It was then past +midnight. + +The eight men worked well. By sunrise I was fighting the dogs and the +stench in the Sacs village, and by eleven the same morning I was on my +way again with eighty braves following. The Sacs were such clumsy +people in canoes that I did not dare trust them on the water, so we +arranged to make a detour to the west and reach the rendezvous by land. + +It was a terrible journey. We had to make on foot nearly double the +distance that the other tribes would make by canoe, so we gave +ourselves no rest. The trail led by morass and fallen timber, and it +was the season of stinging gnats and breathless days. The Sacs were +always filthy in camp or journeying, and I turned coward at the food I +was obliged to eat. But I did not dare leave them and trust them to +come alone. They were a fierce, sullen people, unstable as hyenas, but +they were terrible in war. I had won some power over them, and they +followed me with the eyes of snarling dogs. But they would not have +gone a mile without my hand to beckon. + +So through filth and gnats, heat, toil, and lack of food, I followed +Ambition. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE MEANING OP CONQUEST + +When I stumbled along the bank of the little stream that marked our +rendezvous, I was mud-splashed, torn, and insect-poisoned, and I led a +brutish set of ruffians. Yet I heard a muffled cheer roar out as I +came into view. The Winnebagoes were in camp and in waiting. + +I forgot ache and weariness. The Winnebagoes were fifty in all, picked +men, and I looked them over and exulted. Erect and clean-limbed, they +were as dignified and wonderful as a row of fir trees, and physically I +felt a sorry object beside them. Yet they hailed me as leader, and +placing me on a robe of deerskins carried me into camp. They smoked +the pipe of fealty with me, and when I slept that night I knew that my +dream castles of the last two years were at last shaping into something +I could touch and handle. Their glitter was giving way to masonry. + +The morning brought the Malhominis, the noon the Chippewas. I hoped +for the French and the Pottawatamies by night. + +But the night did not bring them, nor the next morning, nor the next +day, nor yet the day following. + +And in the waiting days I lived in four camps of savages, and it was my +duty to cover them with the robe of peace. + +The wolf-eyed Sacs, the stately Winnebagoes, the Chippewas, and +Malhominis,--they sat like gamecocks, quiet, but alert for a ruffle of +one another's plumage. In council they were men; in idleness, +children. When I was with them, they talked of war and spoke like +senators. When I turned my back they gambled, lied, bragged, and +stole. I needed four bodies and uncounted minds. + +And I saw how my union was composed. The tribes would unite and +destroy the Senecas,--that done, it was probable they would find the +game merry, and fall upon one another. + +With every hour of delay they grew harder to control. There was +jealousy between the war chiefs. I stepped on thin ice in my walks +from lodge to lodge. + +But the third day brought Cadillac. We saw the blur of his canoes far +to the north, and when they came within earshot we were ranged to +receive them. + +A man should know pride in his achievement,--else why is striving given +him? I looked over my warriors, rank on rank. Fierce-eyed, muscled +like panthers, they were terrible engines of war. And I controlled +them! I felt the lift of the heart that strengthens a man's will. +That is something rarer than pride; a flitting vision of the unsounded +depths of human power. + +And the canoes that approached made a strange pageant. I could not in +a moment rid myself of a rooted custom; I wished the woman were there +to see. French and Indians sat side by side, so that blankets rubbed +uniforms. They were packed in close bending ranks, their bodies +crouching to the paddles, their eyes upon the shore. There were +ferret-sharp black eyes and peasant-dull blue ones, but all were +glittering. And the faces, bronze or white, took on the same +look,--they were strained, arid of all expression but the fever for +war. A slow tingle crawled over me, and I saw the crowd sway. A +cautious, muffled cry broke from the shore and was answered from the +canoes. It was a hoarse note, for the lust for blood crowds the throat +full. + +I looked to see Cadillac riding a surge of triumph, but when our hands +met I was chilled. He showed no gladness. His purple face had lines, +and he looked hot and jaded. Had his men failed him? No, I reviewed +them. French, Hurons, and Ottawas, they made a goodly showing. +Onanguisse was there, and his Pottawatamies, oiled, feathered, and +paint-decked, were beautiful as catamounts. All was well. Cadillac +was not in his first youth, and had abused himself. His look meant +fatigue. + +"Ottawas, Hurons, Pottawatamies, Malhominis, Chippewas, Sacs, +Winnebagoes." I counted them off to him. "Monsieur de la +Mothe-Cadillac, it is a sight worthy your eyes. New France has not +seen such a gathering since the day when Saint Lusson planted our +standard at the straits and fourteen tribes looked on." + +He nodded heavily, "The Senecas are still in camp?" + +"Yes, monsieur. We can attack to-night." + +But he turned away. "Montlivet, your wife is in the Seneca camp." + +I looked at him coldly, I think, though I remember that I clutched his +shoulder. + +"Monsieur, you mistake. My wife went east." + +He tried to draw me aside, but I resisted him stolidly. I eyed him +searchingly, angrily, but he could not look at me. "Listen," he +begged, and he spoke very slowly and tapped my arm. Yet I was +understanding him perfectly. "Listen, Montlivet, there is no mistake. +When Father Carheil told me that there were Hurons in Starling's escort +I sent Ottawas in pursuit. I have heard from them. Starling's party +went east till they were out of sight of the garrison. Then they +turned west and joined Pemaou. It was by Starling's direction. The +Ottawas would have objected, for I had ordered them to travel east, but +they were overpowered. It is supposed, since they traveled in this +direction, that they went to the Seneca camp. But that may not be +true." + +"It is undoubtedly true," I said. + +Cadillac pushed me out of earshot of the men. "Montlivet, you cannot +understand. Listen to me." + +I tried to shake him away. "There is nothing more that you can say. +Monsieur, unhand me. My wife left with Starling. She is undoubtedly +in the Seneca camp. Pemaou and Starling are in league, and they go to +the Senecas because they hope to make terms on behalf of the English +with the western tribes. I understand." + +Cadillac looked at me fully, and I realized dully that his face grew +white as he examined mine. "Go away. Go at once," he urged. + +"Leave things here to me." + +I nodded and stumbled away. Stretched tarpaulins made my tent, and I +crawled under them, drew down the folds, and was alone. The noise of +the camp muttered around me like a wind. + +And then I lay alone with myself and my beliefs, and fought to know +where my feet were set. There was tempest without my tent, but not +within. In the valleys where I struggled there was great quiet. And +at last I found certainty. + +In an hour I went to find Cadillac. He would not let me speak. + +"Montlivet, we will stop this attack--if we can hold the Indians." + +"It is not possible to hold the Indians. They are blood drunk. We +should have general massacre." + +"Then you must leave. You can go with Onanguisse. He says that if his +adopted daughter is with the Senecas he will not join in the attack." + +"No, I shall not go with him. I shall lead the allied force of +Indians, monsieur." + +Cadillac looked me over. I saw, with my own face cold, that his was +not steady. + +"No victory is worth that," I heard him say, and I listened as if he +spoke of another's sorrow. "It is not necessary, Montlivet." + +"It is absolutely necessary. The war chiefs are jealous. Without a +leader they will fall on one another and we shall have sickening +massacre. You cannot lead them, for you do not speak their language." + +"But even granting that"---- + +I touched his sleeve. "Monsieur, I have been alone. I have thought it +out. There is no escape. I do not know why life should give a man +such a thing to do, but it is here. I have told the Indians that I +represented the king; that I stood for government, protection. I have +called them here in the name of law. It is a new word to them, and I +have forced its meaning into their minds. And so they trust me. They +trust me in the name of this law I talk about. If I desert them now, +they will lapse into savagery of the worst kind. We shall have +anarchy. Blood will flow for years. No Frenchman's life will be safe. +I have the best men of six tribes here, and they will think themselves +deceived and pay us in red coin. I have been alone. I have thought it +out. I cannot do wholesale murder to save one life, even if it is my +wife whose life is to be forfeit. We must go on." + +Cadillac put out his hand and caught my shoulder. I had reeled against +him as I spoke. He removed his hat. + +"I await your plans, Monsieur de Montlivet. My troops are ready." + +When I found Onanguisse he examined me from under drooping lids. +Despite his age, he was wont to hold his head like a deer, but now his +look was on the ground. He handed me a richly feathered bow and a +sheaf of arrows. + +"I cannot use them," he said. "I called her daughter. I gave her a +robe in token. It is only a porcupine who turns against his own. A +chief remembers." + +I pressed the bow back. "Take it, and save her. I do not know how. +You are an old man in knowledge, I am a child. I trust to you to bring +her to me." + +He looked up at that, and shook his head in sorrow when he saw my face. +But he would not take his bow. "One man cannot save her," he said, and +he bowed his head again and went away. + +I did not speak. I saw him summon his warriors and reembark. In the +general tumult his leaving made little stir. The Pottawatamies were +arrogant, called themselves "lords," and exacted tribute of the other +tribes of La Baye. Yet they accomplished this more by diplomacy than +warfare. I knew that Onanguisse's desertion was well in tune with his +reputation and would not be combated. + +I found Pierre, and told him about the woman. "You are to save her. +You are to get her away. It is for you to do. You are to think +nothing else, work for nothing else. You can do it. I depend on you +to do it. You are never to come to me again if you fail." + +But he, too, looked away. "It cannot be done. The Indians will kill +her." He turned his head from me, and his voice was thick and grating. + +I raged at him. "I shall give the Indians orders to spare all women," +I declared. + +He nodded his great head. "I will help the master. I will do all I +can." He humored me as one hushes an ailing child, but I saw the +caution and blankness in his look. As soon as he could he slipped out +of my sight. + +And then I went to work. If I staggered as I made my stumbling, +blinded way from war chief to war chief, there was none to know, for +blood lust had closed eyes and ears. Yet, though my muscles failed, my +brain was clear. + +The kettle-drums snarled and buzzed like lazy hornets. They sounded +spiteful rather than wicked, but I knew what their droning stood for, +and my body grew cold. In the Ottawa camp the drummers sat beside a +post in the centre of a great circle of warriors, and Longuant stood +with them in the ring singing a war chant. His body was painted green +and he was hung with chains of wampum. I halted. He was one of the +sanest, the most admirable, of the war chiefs, and I listened to him. +He kept his eyes fixed on the westering sun, and yelped his recitation +in a sharp, barking voice. I heard of children dashed to death against +trees; of men disemboweled and left to the mercy of dogs and flies. +After the recitation of each exploit, he struck his hatchet against the +post, and the clamor of the drums doubled. + +I found myself sick as well as faint. I beat the air with my clenched +fist, and Cadillac saw me, and begged me to go away alone till I had +myself in hand. But I pushed by him. + +"My mind is clear," I said, and I spoke as coldly as a machine. +"Clearer than yours, for I see this as it is. Let me go. I have +undertaken this and I shall go through." + +We were ready to march an hour before sunset. The fifty Sacs formed +the vanguard, and I was with them. The Winnebagoes followed, then the +French troops. The remaining tribes, and the Indians who carried the +stores, brought up the rear. Our intention was to march as quietly as +possible while daylight lasted, then work our way by dark and starlight +till we were near the Seneca camp. We would then drop on the ground, +and lie in ambush till it grew light enough to attack. We hoped to +surprise the camp. They had fortified themselves, but apparently had +no scouts at work, and from all we could learn they were feasting and +drinking in Babylonish security, celebrating the return of their +messengers from Michillimackinac. With that exploit in mind it was +small wonder that they felt arrogant and unassailable. Now was indeed +our time. + +Our ranks were formed, and I looked them over man by man. Each savage +carried a bag with ten pounds of maize flour, a light covering, a bow +and arrows, or a fusee. The Winnebagoes I had put well in the lead, +for they were protected by great shields of dried buffalo skin. I +tried one of the skin shields and found it like iron. It would turn a +hatchet. + +Cadillac's bugler sounded the call and we started. The late sun was +unclouded and warm, and the smell of paint and breath and unwashed +bodies filled my lungs. The stench was hot and brutish in my nostrils, +and it was the smell of war. + +So long as daylight lasted we moved with some regularity in spite of +the rough ground. Then, knowing we were drawing nearer the Senecas, we +began to slip from tree to tree. The Indians did this like phantoms, +and the French troops imitated. Three hundred men went through the +forest, and sometimes a twig cracked. There was no other sound. We +went for some time. We heard owls hoot around us, and knew they might +be watch cries. Still we went on. We went till I felt the ground rise +steadily under my groping feet. The Seneca stronghold was on an +eminence. I gave the signal to drop where we were and wait for day. + +We melted into the shadows, and lay rigid while the stars looked down. +The savage next me slept. His war club lay by his side and I felt of +it in the dark. It was made of a deer's horn, shaped like a cutlass; +it had a large ball at the end. The ball was heavy and jagged, and +would crush a skull. + +There were hundreds of such clubs. In a few hours they would be in +use. And the woman was in camp. + +My right arm was free from the sling and I dug my hands together. I +could feel the blood running in my palms, and I checked myself. If I +injured my hands how could I save the woman? + +But nothing could save the woman. + +I had given commands to spare all whites and to torture no one. But +Pierre was right. I was a fool to have pretended, even to myself, that +I thought the savages listened. + +A fool can do harm enough, but a cowardly, soft-hearted man is the most +dangerous of knaves. I might have killed Pemaou when I threw the spear +at him; I might have killed him the night before my wedding in the +Pottawatamie camp. I had withheld my hand because it was disagreeable +to me to kill. And now the woman's life was to pay the forfeit of my +lax softness. I rolled in my agony, and bit the ground till my mouth +was full of leaf mould. + +A planet swung from one tree-top to the next. What lay behind it? She +would know soon. But I could not follow her where she was going. I +should live. I knew that. When Death is courted he will not strike. +I had seen that in battle. + +That first morning when she had come to me with the sunrise,--when she +had drifted to me, bound and singing,--I had called to her to have no +fear, that no harm should come to her. And she had trusted me. + +She had a little hollow in her brown throat where I had watched the +breath flutter. I had never touched it. + +I could thank God for her, for one thing. She had refused my kiss. + +I saw the planet again, tipping another tree-top. I understood its +remoteness; in my agony I was part of it. What were men, countries, +empires! I felt the insignificance of life, of suffering. What did it +matter if these Indians died! Why should we not all die? I crawled to +my knees. I would give the signal to retreat. I would give it now. +Let the massacre come. + +But I fell back. I could not. I could not. Three hundred lives for +one life. I could spill my own blood for her, but not theirs. + +But as for empire, I had forgotten its meaning. + +All of these men lying in the shadows had women who were dear. Many of +the wives would kill themselves if their husbands died. I had seen an +Indian wife do it; she had smiled while she was dying. + +Would the woman think of me--at the last? She would not know that I +had failed her. She would not know that I was worse than Starling. + +She was the highest-couraged, the most finely wrought woman that the +world knew. Yet two men had failed her. + +"Monsieur," she had said, "life has not been so pleasant that I should +wish to live." + +It was only a week ago that she--she, alive, untouched, my own--had +walked away from me in the sunshine, leaning on Cadillac's arm. And I +had let her go. And I had let her go. + +And I had let her go. I said that over and over, with my mouth dry, +and I forgot time. I did not know that minutes were passing, but I +looked up, and the stars were dim, and branches and twigs were taking +form. Day would be on us soon. + +I raised myself on my elbow and peered. I could see very little, but I +could hear the strange rhythmic rustle that I call the breathing of the +forest. And with it mingled the breathing of three hundred warriors. +They carried clubs, arrows, muskets. I was to give them the signal for +war. + +I tried to rise. I was up on my knees. I fell back. I tried again. +My muscles did not obey. I saw the war club of the Indian beside me. +My hands stole out to it. A blow on my own head would end matters. My +hands closed on the handle of the club. + +Then the savage next me stirred. That roused me. The insanity was +over, and sweat rained from me at realization of my weakness,--the +weakness that always traps a man unsure of his values, his judgment. +When men say that a man's life is not his own to take, I am not sure. +But that had nothing to do with me now. I was not a man in the sense +of having a man's free volition. When I had given up human claims for +myself, I had ceased to exist as an independent agent. It was only by +knowing that I was a tool that I could keep myself alive. + +And so I sat upon my knees and whispered to the Indians about me. They +whispered in turn, and soon three hundred men were waked and ready. + +Yet the forest scarcely rustled. + +I motioned, and the line started. We crept some twenty paces from tree +to tree. Then ahead of us I saw an opening. I could distinguish the +outlines of a rough redoubt. + +I stepped in front and stopped a moment. It had grown light enough for +me to see the faces of the Sac warriors. Dirt-crusted, red-eyed, +wolfish, they awaited my signal. + +I raised my sword. "Ready!" I called. An inferno of yells arose. We +ran at the top of our speed. We charged the stake-built redoubt with +knives in hands. Mingled with our war cry I heard the screams of the +awakening camp. + +I reached the palings. They were of bass wood, roughly split and +tough. I could not scale them with my lame shoulder. I seized a +hatchet from an Indian, struck the stakes, wrenched one free, and +climbed through the hole. + +The camp was in an uproar. A few Sacs had scaled the redoubt ahead of +me, and one of them was grappling with a Seneca just in my path. I +dodged them and ran on. Behind me I heard the terrible roar of the +blood-hungry army. + +I fought my way on. Warriors and slaves rose before me and screamed at +my knife, and at something that was in my face. I did not touch them. +I had to find the woman. She might be hiding in one of the huts. But +there were many bark huts, and all alike. I ran on. + +The air was thickening with powder smoke, and the taste of blood was in +my throat. A hatchet whistled by me and cut the cloth from my +shoulder. I saw the Seneca who threw the hatchet, but I would not +stop. Corpses were in my way. Twice I slipped in blood and went to my +knees. + +I must search each lodge, each group. I had seen nothing that looked +like a woman. + +An Indian grappled with me, and I slashed at him till he was helpless. +I was covered with blood that was not my own. I let him drop and +stumbled on. + +I could not find the woman. I had not seen Starling nor Pierre nor +Labarthe nor Leclerc. + +And over all the noise of tearing flesh and the screams of dying men +came the sound of singing, of constant, exultant singing,--the singing +of victors binding their captives; the death songs of wounded preparing +to die. + +I saw two bodies lying together as if the same arrow had cleft them. +Their hands sprawled toward me, red and beckoning. They were +mutilated, but I knew their clothes. They were Leclerc and Labarthe. +Leclerc was hanging on Labarthe as he had leaned in life. + +I had brought these men to the wilderness. And Simon was dead, too. I +went on. + +I saw a Seneca, stripped and running blood, crouch to a white man on +the ground and lift his knife to take the scalp. I sprang upon him, +but he dashed my knife away, found his feet, and pressed at me. I +dodged his hatchet, and catching up a skin shield from the ground +turned on him. I was taller than he, and I smashed the shield down on +his head so that he dropped. I pounded him till he was beyond doing +harm to any one, then I took his knife and hatchet, tossed him aside, +and turned to the white man. + +It was Starling, and there was life in him, for he opened his eyes. + +I took my flask and forced brandy between his teeth. He recognized me +but could not speak. A great spear had torn through his chest. I +started to pull it out, but when I looked farther and saw what a +hatchet had done I checked myself. + +His eyes were on mine and he tried to speak. It was more than I could +look at,--his effort to hold life in his torn body and tell me +something. I eased his head and gave him more brandy. + +And then he found strength to try to push me away. "Go! Go! The +woman!" I made the words out of the writhing of his lips. + +I leaned over him. "Where? Where is she? Where?" + +He tried many times before he made a sound that I could catch, and his +strength ebbed. I tried more brandy, but he was past reviving. I +strained to hear, till my agony matched his. I thought I caught a +word. "Woods!" I cried. "Is she in the woods?" + +"Yes." He suddenly spoke clearly. "Go." And he fell back in my arms. + +I thought that he died with that word, but I held him a moment longer +to make sure. It did not matter now that I hated him. As to what he +had brought on me,--I could not visit my despair on him for that. As +well rage at the forces that made him. Life had given him a little +soul in a compelling body. The world believed the body, and expected +of the man what he could not reach. I looked at his dead face and +trembled before the mystery of inheritance. + +But he was not dead. He opened his eyes to mine, quivered, and spoke, +and his voice was clear. + +"I would have followed her into the woods but they bound me. I was not +a coward that time. I would have followed her." + +And then the end came to him in a way that I could not mistake, for +with the last struggle he cried to the woman. + +I laid him down. While I had held him I had known that Frenchmen were +fighting around me, and my neck was slimy with warm blood, for an arrow +had nicked my ear. But the battle had swayed on to the north of the +camp, and only dead and dying were left in sight. I looked at +Starling. I could not carry him. I took off my coat, covered the +body, and went on. + +The woman had gone to the woods. She had gone to the woods. + +But woods lay on every side. + +As I ran through the camp toward the north I saw a woman ahead of me. +She had a broad, fat figure, and I knew she was an Indian. But she was +a woman and the first that I had seen. I caught her and jerked her +around to face me. + +"The woman? The white woman? Where is she?" I used the Illinois +speech. + +The woman was a Miami slave and apparently unhurt. But as I stood over +her a line of foam bubbled out of her blue lips. Her eyes were +meaningless. I had frightened her into catalepsy, and I ground my +teeth at my ill luck, for she could have told me something of the +woman. I took my brandy flask and tried to pry her teeth apart. + +Both of my hands were busy with her when Pierre's bellow rose from +behind me. "Master! Jump! Jump!" In the same instant I heard +breathing close upon me. + +I jumped. As I did it I heard the crash of a hatchet through bone, and +the pounding of a great body heaving down upon its knees. I turned. + +Pemaou's hatchet was in Pierre's brain, and my giant, my man who had +lived with me, was crumpled down on hands and knees, looking at me and +dying. + +I called out like a mad thing, and insanity gave me power. I tore the +red hatchet from Pemaou's hands and pinioned him. My fingers dug into +his throat, and I threw him to the ground. He bared his wolf's teeth +and began his death song. But I raved at him, and choked him to +silence. "You are not to die now!" I shouted at his glazing eyes. +"You shall live. I shall torture you. You shall live to be tortured." + +I carried rope around my waist, and I took it and bound him. How I did +it is not clear, for I had a weak shoulder and he was muscular. But +now he seemed palsied and I a giant. It was done. I bound him till he +was rigid and helpless. + +And then I fell to my knees beside Pierre. He was dead. I had lost +even the parting from him. My giant was dead. He had taken the blow +meant for me. + +Pierre was dead, and Simon and Labarthe and Leclerc. I had brought +them to the wilderness because I believed in a western empire for +France. I left Pierre and went on. + +But I had not gone far when a cry rose behind me. It was louder than +the calls of the dying. It was the wail of an Indian woman for her +dead. I ran back. Singing Arrow lay stretched on Pierre's body. + +I looked at her. I did not ask myself how she came there, though I had +thought her safe in the Malhominis village. So she had loved the man +enough to follow secretly. I left her with him and went on. + +I stepped over men who were mangled and scalped. Some of them were not +dead, and they clutched at me. But I went on my way. + +Indians and troops were gathered at the north of the camp. The warfare +was over. Corpses were stacked like logs, and the savages were binding +their captives and chanting of their victories. The French stood +together, leaning on their muskets. I saw Cadillac unhurt, and went to +him. + +"Is the bugler alive? Have him sound the call." + +The commandant turned at sound of my voice. He was elated and would +have embraced me, but seeing my face his mood altered. He gave the +order. + +The bugle restored quiet, and I raised my sword for attention. I asked +each tribe in turn if they had seen a white woman. Then I asked the +French. I gained only a storm of negatives. + +I went on with the orders to the tribes. All captives were to be +treated kindly and their wounds dressed. This was because they were to +be adopted, and it was prudent to keep them in good condition. The +argument might restrain the savages. I was not sure. + +And all the time that I was speaking I wondered if I looked and talked +as other men did. Would the savages obey me as they had done when I +was a live, breathing force, full of ardor and belief? They seemed to +see no difference. I finished my talk to them and turned to Cadillac. + +"You do not need me now. You will be occupied caring for the wounded +and burying the dead. The Indians will not attempt torture to-day. I +am going to the woods." + +"To the woods?" + +"The woman is in the woods. She must have gone at the first alarm. I +cannot find her here." + +"Ask the captives. They will know." + +"It is useless to ask them. They will not speak now. It is a code. I +am going to the woods. Send what soldiers you can to search with me." + +"Shall I send Indians with you, too?" + +"Not now. They are useless now. They could trail nothing. Let me go." + +He followed like a father. "You will come back?" + +"Yes, I will come back." + +But I had three things to do before I was free to go to the woods. To +go to the woods where I would find the woman. + +I searched for the Miami slave woman. She was dead. That cut my last +hope of news. + +I saw that Pemaou was still well bound, and I had him carried into a +hut to await my orders. + +I went to Pierre's body. Singing Arrow still wailed beside it, and +cried out that it should not be moved. I told her the soldiers would +obey her orders, and carry it where she wished. + +But there was a fourth matter. I spoke to Dubisson, and my tongue was +furry and cold. + +"See that watch is kept on the bags of scalps for European hair." + +Then I went to the woods. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +THE UNDESERVED + +There were birds in the woods, and soft breezes. Squirrels chattered +at me, and I saw flowers. And sometimes I saw blood on trampled moss +where fugitives had been before. + +I called, and fired my arquebus. I whistled, for that sound carried +far. Since that day the sound of a whistle is terrible to me. It +means despair. + +Soldiers, grave-faced, respectful, followed me. + +They were faint for food, and sore and sick from warfare, but they came +with me without protest. They gave me the deference we show a mourner +in a house of death. I turned to them in a rage. + +"Make more noise. Laugh. Talk. Be natural. I command you." + +We divided the woods among us, like game-beaters in a thicket, and went +over the ground foot by foot. We found nothing. The birds sang and +the sun went higher. Though the woods were pure and clean I could +smell blood everywhere. In time a man dropped from exhaustion. At +that I gave the word to go back to camp. + +The camp itself was less terrible than the memories that had been with +me as I walked through the unsullied woods. The wounded were cared for +and the dead buried. The Indians were gathered around their separate +fires, chanting, feeding, bragging, and sleeping. The French had made +a camp at one side, and they, too, were seeking comfort through food +and sleep. Life was progressing as if the mutilated dead had never +been. + +We had succeeded, Cadillac assured me. All the Senecas were dead or +captured and our total loss, French and savage, was only seventy-five +men. We had but few wounded, and the surgeon said they would recover. + +I nodded, took food, and went alone to eat. I sat there a long time. +Cadillac came toward me once as if to speak, but looked at me and +turned away. + +At last I had made up my mind, and I went to the hut where I had left +Pemaou. It had taken time to fight down my longing for even combat +with him, but I knew that I must not risk that, for I needed to keep my +life for a time. So I would try for speech with him first, and then he +should die. And since he must die helpless, he must die as painlessly +as possible. Physical revenge had become abominable to me. It was +inadequate. + +I entered the hut. Pemaou's figure lay, face downward, on the floor. +It had a rigidity that did not come from the thongs that bound it. I +turned it over. The Indian's throat was cut. Life had flowed out of +the red, horrible opening. + +I think that I cursed at the dead man. Corpse that he was, he had +tricked me again, for I had hoped, against reason, to force information +from him. Death had not dignified his wolfish face. He had died, as +he had lived, a snarling animal, whose sagacity was that of the brute. +And I had lost with him this time, as I had lost before, by taking +thought, and so losing time. An animal does not hesitate, and he is a +fool who deliberates in dealing with him. I tasted desolation as I +stood there. + +A moccasin stepped behind me. "I killed him," said Singing Arrow's +voice. + +I turned. She was terrible to look at. Life had given this savage +woman strength of will and soul without training to balance it. She +was Nemesis incarnate. Yet blood-stained and tragic as was her face, +her words were calm. + +"He killed my man." + +What was there to say? It was only her look that showed she had been +through tempests; in mind she seemed as numbed as I. I took her by the +arm and led her outside. I turned away from the blood-soaked camp, and +took her to the beach where the water was yellow-white and rippled on +the sand. I motioned her to wash away the blood stains on her face and +arms. Then I spoke. + +"Singing Arrow, do you intend to kill yourself and follow Pierre?" + +She drew her blanket high and folded her arms. "Yes, if he calls me. +When I dream of him twice I shall know that he is crying for me and +cannot rest, so I shall go after him. I have dreamed once +already,--after I killed the Huron. When I dream once more I can go." + +I touched her arm. "Look at me. Singing Arrow, Pierre is not calling +you to follow him. He is calling you to pick up his work where he had +to drop it. He died trying to save me. He wants you to help me now. +My wife is in the woods. You are to help me find her. Will you help +me, Singing Arrow?" + +She shook her head. As she looked at me, scornful and sorrowful and +absolutely unmoved, she was one of the most beautiful women I had ever +seen. I knew this remotely, as an unblest ghost might know a warmth he +could not feel. + +"You do not need me. If your whisper cannot reach the white woman she +would not hear my shouts. I must go with my man." + +"Singing Arrow, the Great Spirit is not ready for you. When he is +ready he will send. You must wait for him to send." + +She did not shift her look from me. "Your Great Spirit is strange. He +tells you that you are brave men and good when you take other lives, +but he will not let you take your own. Why should you have power over +other men's bodies if your own does not belong to you? Your Great +Spirit may be right for you white men, but for me he speaks like a +child. When my man calls me I shall go." She dropped her eyes, +wrapped her blanket closer, and went away. I did not follow her. She +had as sound a right to her belief as I to mine. + +And what was my belief? + +The sun was at the horizon, and I went to Cadillac. "You hold council +to-morrow?" + +"Yes, to-morrow morning." + +"I shall be here." + +"But where are you going now?" + +"To the woods." + +Cadillac took me by the arm. "Montlivet, be sane!" + +But I think that as he looked at me he saw that I was sane. "I shall +be with you in the morning," I promised. And I would have no further +words. + +All that night in the woods, both waking and dreaming, the thought of +the woman was like a presence near me. I slept some, dropping against +trees, then roused and stumbled on. I do not know that I consciously +searched for her, but I went on and on to meet her. It seemed that I +should always do that while I lived,--should always push my way +forward, feeling that beyond the next turn she stood beckoning. + +The stars rose and set. There were multitudes of them and very bright. +If man could only have his orbit fixed and follow it as they did; be +compelled to follow it by a governing power! The terrible cruelty of a +God who throws volition into a man's hands without giving him +understanding to handle it came to me for the first time. + +When day arrived I ate a portion of meal and meat, and made my way +back. It was a long trip, for I had wandered far, and when I reached +the camp the sun was three hours high. A large tent had been made of +skins and tarpaulins, and French and savages were gathered there and +waiting. I was late. The calumet was already passing as I went in. + +I halted a moment at the entrance. There was no cheer of welcome at +sight of me. Instead there was a hush,--the hush of suspended +breathing. In two days these savages had come to draw aside from me +for what was in my look. "His face is the face of one dead," +Outchipouac had said. I knew that I had grown to seem abnormal, alien. +I tried to form my expression to better lines, but it was out of my +power. I took my place as interpreter, and the long conclave opened. + +The hours of droning speeches went on and on. Each tribe presented its +claims, and metaphor shouldered metaphor. It sounded trivial as the +bragging of blue-jays, but I interpreted carefully and kept the +different headings in mind. Then I asked Cadillac's permission, and +took it on myself to answer. + +Sometimes the Power that rules us, and that shoves us here and there to +play our parts in the game, seems to me nothing but a cold-eyed +justice, remote, indifferent, impartially judicial. So I felt now. In +looking at the issue I saw that meaning and vitality had gone from my +spirit, but I had kept equity. I parceled the spoil among the tribes, +and did it without doubt of my judgment or care for its acceptance. I +remembered Outchipouac's plea for his people, and found it just. The +Malhominis had sent the largest force in proportion to the strength of +their tribe, and their position on the bay was strategical. So I gave +them their choice of a third of the captives. To the remaining tribes +I gave the rest of the captives and the confiscated weapons. Then I +passed the calumet among them. + +I had spoken coldly, as an onlooker. Perhaps my air of detachment gave +me authority. The chiefs smoked the calumet and ratified my words. +That part of the council was over. + +And then to the future. Cadillac rose. His eloquence painted the +prospect till it shimmered like a dream landscape, rose-tinted, +iridescent, with sparkling vistas full of music and bugle calls and the +tramp of marching men with the sun in their faces. We, French and +Indians, were a united people. Our young men were brave and full of +vigor. We should sweep all before us. We should crush the Iroquois +and drive the English far away over seas. We should go now to +Michillimackinac and march from there to conquest and empire. All the +bubble dreams of sovereignty, from Nineveh on, glittered in his words. +I translated faithfully. + +Outchipouac answered. I had somehow won his spirit, which was brave +and vigorous. Perhaps he repented his distrust of me. My silver chain +was on his neck, and he fingered it. He said that where I led the +Malhominis would follow. His wild imagery swept like the torrent of an +epic. The man was warrior, dreamer, fatalist. He called on the chiefs +of the tribes to witness what I was, what I had done. Water could not +drown me, arrows could not harm me. I wore the French garb and my face +was white, but I was something more universal than any race. I spoke +all tongues. I was like the air which belonged to French and Indian +alike. I was a manitou; I had been sent to lead the Indians back to +the supremacy that they had almost lost. + +I could believe him as I listened. I did not remember that he spoke of +me. He was talking of some great principle, some crystallization of +the forces of the woods in man's shape. The woods that had nurtured +the Indian should protect him. At last, out from the woods had come +this spirit,--this spirit that was their voice. He did not talk to me, +he talked to the skies and the clouds and the forces that dwelt in +them. It was the call of a savage king to the soul of the wild earth +that had cradled him. + +So swept away was I that I could not have translated. But it was not +necessary. He had spoken in Algonquin, which all but the French and +Hurons understood. The war chiefs rose. It is strange. An Indian may +scalp and torture, yet have at heart much of the seer and poet. The +chiefs came forward and laid their bows and quivers full of arrows at +my feet. + +For a moment Outchipouac's speech had warmed me as I thought I might +not be warm again. But when I saw the chiefs advancing I became stone. + +"I cannot lead you," I said in Algonquin, and I knew my voice was +blank. "Outchipouac is wrong. I am no manitou, but a man so weak he +does not know the truth even for himself. How can he lead others? +When I brought you here the sun shone brightly, and I thought I saw the +way ahead. Now I am in darkness and mist. Go. Leave me. Find a +leader whose sight is not clouded." I turned my back and stood with my +head down. + +A murmur rose. I had broken the illusion. We had all been riding the +clouds of fancy, and I had dashed us to earth again. The chiefs had +come to me with their hands out, and I had thrown water in their faces. +They had reason for their anger. Cadillac saw the pantomime and +lumbered from his seat. He seized my arm. + +"Montlivet, you are insane! You are insane!" + +I pointed him to the woods. "Monsieur, I have dropped my sword. I +shall go into the forest for a time." + +He shook me as if I were in a torpor. "Your wife"---- + +"I shall search for her. I am going out now with Indian trailers. I +shall not leave this country till all hope is past,--then I shall go +west." + +For a moment suspicion clutched him. "Oh, you would form your union +without me! You are planning a dictatorship." + +I took him by the arm and begged him to understand. "I have dropped my +sword," I reiterated. "I am going on alone. I have skins and +provisions cached at Sturgeon Cove--enough for barter. I am not +insane. I shall go prudently. There are lands and peoples to be +explored in the west." + +The clamor grew. Dubisson and others of the French came nearer. + +"Speak to the chiefs now. Speak to them now," they begged. "You can +save the situation yet." + +I watched the Indians. "They are departing peacefully." + +"But they are departing!" + +I looked at Cadillac. "And why not?" + +He drew his sword. "Montlivet, have you turned priest--or coward? Do +you dare to try and tell me that war is wrong?" + +I looked at him, and left my own sword untouched. "I do not know what +I believe. I am going back in the woods. Perhaps I shall learn. But +now we have done all that we set out to do. We have destroyed the +Seneca war party. We shall be safe from the Iroquois for some time." + +"But we are just ready to go on. Our men are ready." + +His words seemed meaningless. "Ready! Are intoxicated men ready? We +have drunk blood. Now we are drunk with words. I will not"---- + +A roar outside cut my words short. "The woman! The woman!" I heard +the cry in several languages at once, but I could not comprehend it. I +saw the crowd rise and surge toward me, making for the entrance of the +tent. I turned and ran with them. Yet my mind was numb. + +We reached the outside. I was in advance. A great canoe was at the +shore and Onanguisse was directing his oarsmen. In the bow of the +canoe sat the woman. + +I reached her first; I caught her from the canoe. Yes, she was alive; +she was unhurt. Her hands were warm. I heard her breathe. I dropped +on my knees at her feet. + +And then she bent over me and whispered, "Monsieur, monsieur, you are +unhurt!" Her voice had all its old inflections, and I rose and looked +at her in wonder. Yes, she was alive. She was grave-eyed and haggard, +but she was alive. The hands that I held were warm and trembling, +though my own were cold and leaden as my palsied tongue. She was +dressed in skins, and I could see the brown hollow in her throat. I +could not speak. I laid my lips upon her hand and trembled. + +French and savages pressed around us in a gaping, silent ring. +Cadillac had given us the moment together, but he edged nearer, +bewildered by my silence. + +"Madame, we welcome you," he cried. "Your husband has not been like +himself since he heard of your danger. Give him time to recover. We +have been a camp of mourning for you. Tell us of your escape." + +And then I spoke. I drew her hand through my arm and turned her to +face the crowd. "They are your friends, madame," I said, as if it were +the conclusion of a long talk between us. "Thank them, and tell them +of your escape." + +But she halted and turned again to me. She looked up with her face +close to mine, and for the first time she met my eyes fully. We stood +so a moment, and as she stood she flushed under what was in my look; a +wave of deepening pink crept slowly up through her brown pallor, but +she did not look away. I felt my face harden to iron. It was I who +turned from her, and the faces before me swam in red. Up to that time +I had grasped only the fact that she was alive, that she stood there, +warm, beautiful, unscathed, that I could see her, touch her, hear the +strange rise and fall of her voice. But with the clinging of her +glance to mine I remembered more, and sweat poured out on my forehead. +She was my wife. I had forfeited the right to touch her hand. + +The French began to murmur questions and she turned back toward them. +She stood close by my side with her hand in mine, and looked into the +faces, French and savage, that hemmed her round. I think she saw tears +in some eyes, for her voice suddenly faltered. She made a gesture of +courtesy and greeting. + +"I escaped days ago when we were traveling," she said in her +slow-moving French, that all around might hear. "I made my way to the +Pottawatamie Islands. Onanguisse had called me daughter, and I knew +that if I could find his people I was safe." + +The crowd breathed together in one exclamation. "You have not been in +this camp at all?" + +I felt her draw closer to me. "No, I have not been in this camp. You +thought that I was here?" Her grasp on my hand tightened. "Then this +is the Seneca camp. The battle is over," she said under her breath, +and she turned to me. Her eyes were brave, but I knew from her +trembling lips that she understood. "Where is my cousin?" + +I took both her hands in mine. "He died in my arms. He died trying to +send me to you. He forgot self. It was the death of a brave man, +madame." + +She stood and looked at me. She had forgotten the men around her. +"Monsieur," she said, and this time her eyes were soft with tears, "my +cousin was not so bad as he seemed. He could not help being what he +was." + +"I understand." + +"Monsieur, you conquered the Senecas?" + +"Yes. We will forget it, madame." + +She looked over the heads of the lines of soldiers and grew white to +the lips. I knew that she saw rows of scalps, and I could not save her +from it. Yet I implored. + +"Do not think of it. It is all over, madame." + +Her eyes came back to me. "And Pierre? Is Pierre safe?" + +"Madame, he---- He died saving me." + +Her hands grasped me harder. "And Labarthe?" + +"I am all that is left, madame." + +Still she held to me. "Where is Singing Arrow?" + +I looked at Cadillac. He shook his head. "They found the Indian woman +this morning," he said. "She was dead beside her husband. Do not +grieve for her. Her face is more than happy; it is triumphant. My men +called me to look. Will you see her now, madame?" + +But she could not answer. The hands that held mine began to chill, and +I saw the brown throat quiver. I turned to Cadillac. "I have no tent. +May I take madame to yours?" + +He placed all that he had at her service. He was moved, for he did it +with scant phrase. + +"But one moment," he begged. "Montlivet, one word with your wife +first. Madame, I beg you to listen. Will you look around you here?" + +She stopped. "I have looked, monsieur." + +"Madame, you see those Indians. They are war chiefs and picked braves. +The brawn and brain of six tribes are collected here before you. Do +you know what that means?" + +I saw her look at him gravely. "I should understand. I have lived in +Indian camps, monsieur." + +He looked back at her with sudden admiration that crowded the +calculation out of his eyes. "Madame!" he exclaimed. "We know your +spirit and knowledge; we wish that you could teach us some new way to +show you homage. But do you understand your husband's power? You have +never seen him in the field. Look at these war chiefs. They are +arrogant and untamed, but they follow your husband like parish-school +children. It is marvelous, madame." + +She lifted her long deer's throat, and I felt her thrill. "Monsieur, I +think that not even you can know half what I do of my husband's +strength and power." + +Her words were knives. I would have drawn her away, but Cadillac was +before me. "Wait, Montlivet, wait! This is my time. I have more to +say. Then, madame, to the point. These chiefs that you see are +leaving. They would have been gone now if you had not come. They are +leaving us because your husband said he would not lead them further. +Talk to him. I can hold the tribes here a few hours longer. If he +comes back to sanity by night, there will still be time for him to undo +his folly. Talk to him, madame." + +Again I tried to interrupt, but the pressure of her hand begged me to +be silent. "What would you have me say to my husband?" she asked +Cadillac, and she stood close to me with her head high. + +He drove his fists together. "I would have you bring him to reason," +he groaned. "For three days he has lived in a trance. He planned the +attack, and led it without a quiver, but since then he has tried to +wash his hands of us and of the whole affair. It is a crucial time, +and he is acting like a madman. His anxiety about you has unbalanced +him. Bring him to reason, madame." + +I saw her steal a glance at me as a girl might at her lover, and there +was a strange, fierce pride in her look. She bowed to Cadillac. "I am +glad you told me this, monsieur." Then she turned to me. "Shall we +go?" + +But I looked over her head at the commandant. "It will be useless to +keep the tribes in waiting," I warned. + +I went to Onanguisse, the woman on my arm. "My heart is at your feet," +I said to him. "My blood belongs to you, and my sword!'" + +He looked at the woman and at me, and he spoke thoughtfully. "When I +found her in my lodge we had no speech in common, but I understood. I +brought her to you. Now keep what you have. The best fisherman may +let a fish slip once from his net by accident, but his wits are fat if +he lets it go a second time." + +I knew he was troubled. He saw no possession in my face, and he +thought me weak. + +And then I took the woman to Cadillac's tent. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +I TELL THE WOMAN + +Cadillac's tent held a couch of brush covered with skins, and I led the +woman to it and bade her sit. Then I moved away and stood by the rough +table. + +"Madame," I said, "I have something that I must tell you. I"---- + +She rose from the couch and came toward me. "Will you wait?" she +interrupted. "May I speak first?" She stood beside me, and I saw how +thin her hand was as it rested on the table. She had been through +danger, starvation. I found myself shaking. + +"You went alone through the woods!" I cried, and my voice was hoarse, +so that I had to stop and control it. "Did you suffer? You must have +suffered, madame?" + +She smiled up at me. "Monsieur, do not grieve. It is all over. And +the greatest suffering was in my mind. I feared that you would think I +disobeyed you." + +I clenched my hands. "Madame, you must not say such things to me." + +But she touched her fingers to mine. "Monsieur, I beg you. Hear me +out before you speak. As to my coming here, I promised you that I +would not turn westward,--but I could not help it." + +"I know, madame." + +"My cousin--he was--he was a spy, after all. He deceived us both. He +was carrying peace belts. But--but I am sure that he had moments of +saying to himself that he would refuse to act the spy. When he lied to +me, and told me that he had no purpose but my safety, I think that he +thought he spoke the truth." + +"I know, madame." + +"But when--when I saw what he had done, when I saw that we were going +west, I warned him that I would leave him. I told him, too, that he +was going to his death. He did not believe me. No watch was kept on +me. He had a small canoe; I took it one night. I had provision--a +little---- I--I--I am here, monsieur." + +I stood with my eyes down. "Your cousin wished to follow you. The +Indians restrained him. It was as I told you. He was not a coward at +the last, madame."' + +I heard her quick breath. "My cousin,--he was very weak. But he would +have liked not to be. I think that he would have liked to be such a +man as you, monsieur." + +If I had been a live man I should have cried out at the irony of having +to hear her say that to me. But I could not feel even shame. + +"Hush, hush!" I said slowly. "It is my turn now. Madame, I knew that +you were in the Seneca camp." + +"But I was not." + +"It is the same as if you were. We had news from Indian runners that +Starling had turned west and joined Pemaou. I knew that he would take +you to the Senecas." I stopped and forced myself to look at her. But +I found no horror in her face. There was still that strange glow of +pride that had not faded since she talked to Cadillac. I saw that she +did not understand. My voice was thick, but I tried to speak again. +She interrupted. + +"This is not a surprise to me. This wilderness that seems so lonely is +full of eyes and ears. I feared that you would hear that we had turned +west." + +Her face was unsteady with tenderness. I had never seen her look like +that. I warded her away though she was several feet distant. "You do +not understand," I said. "I knew that you were in the camp, yet I gave +the signal to attack it. I gave the signal to attack it with Indians, +and you were inside." + +"But I was not inside, monsieur." + +"I believed you to be, and I gave the signal." + +"But, monsieur, I"---- + +"Madame, I believed you to be in the camp, and I gave the signal to +attack it." + +She was silent at that, and I knew that at last she understood. We +stood side by side. I looked at the litter in Cadillac's tent, and +counted it piece by piece. There were clothes, papers, a handmill for +grinding maize. I felt her touch my hand. + +"Will you sit beside me on the couch?" + +I followed her. She sat facing me, just out of reach of my hand. The +light in the tent was blue and dim, but I could see the breath flutter +in her throat. I looked at her. I should never be alone with her +again. I should never again look at her in this way. I tried to hold +the moment, and not blur it. I looked at the lips that I had never +kissed. I watched the rise and fall of the bosom where my head had +never lain. She was speaking, but I could hardly understand. + +"I was three days in the woods before I found the Pottawatamies," she +said. "I was alone all night with the stars and the trees. I thought +of everything. I thought of this, monsieur. I was sure you would +do--what you did." + +I stared at her stupidly. + +She reached out and touched my hand. "Monsieur, listen. I have lived +beside you. I know you to be a man of fixed purpose and fanatic honor. +When such a man as you lays out a path for himself, he will follow it +even if he has to trample on what is in his way,--even if he has to +trample on his heart, monsieur." + +I could not follow her argument. "You should not touch my hand." I +drew it away. "You do not understand, after all. Madame, I gave the +signal knowing it meant your murder." I rose, and stood like stone. +My arms hung like weights by my side, but I would not look away from +her. + +She rose, too. I saw a strange, wild brightness flame into her eyes. + +"Monsieur," she whispered. "I understand so much more than you +realize. Listen. You will listen? Monsieur, until now you have +always laughed. You have been gay,--gay at all times. Yet, through it +all I have seen--I have always seen--your terrible power of +self-crucifixion. Oh, I have seen it; I have feared it; I have loved +it! I have tried to get away from it. But always I have been +conscious of it. It is you. It has ruled all your dealings with me. +Else why did you take me with you? Why did you marry me? So in this +matter. You knew that the safety of the west, and of the Indians who +trusted you, lay in attacking this camp. I knew that you would attack +it. Monsieur, monsieur, now will you touch my hand?" + +I stepped back. "You cannot want to touch my hand. Madame, you do not +know what you are saying." + +But she did not move. "Monsieur, will you never believe that I +understand?" + +I could not answer. I turned from her. The air was black. I seized +her fur cloak which lay on the couch and pressed it in my hands. I +knew that my breath rattled in groans like a dying man's. If I had +tried to speak I should have snatched her to me. I held fast to the +table. I had no thought of what she was thinking. I knew only that I +must stand there silent if I was to get away from her in safety. If I +touched her, if I looked at her, I should lose control, and take what +she would give in pity. I fought to save her as well as myself from my +madness. + +At last she spoke, and her voice was tired and quiet. "You wish me to +go, monsieur?" + +That brought me to my manhood. I went to her and looked down at her +brown head; the brave brown head that she had carried so high through +all the terror and unkindness that had come to her. I touched her hair +with my lips, and I grew as quiet as she. + +"Mary," I said, "it is I who must go away at once before I make trouble +for both of us. You are trying to forgive me, but you cannot do it. +You may think you have done it, but the time would come when you would +look at me in horror, as you looked at Starling. I could stand death +better. I know that you cannot forgive me. I knew it at the moment +when I gave the signal to attack the camp. You can never forgive me." + +She lifted her eyes to mine. "I have not forgiven you, monsieur. +There is nothing to forgive." + +I let myself look at her, and all my calmness left me. I shut my teeth +and tried to hold myself in bounds. + +"Mary!" I groaned, "be careful! Be careful! It is not your pity I +want. If you forgive me for pity"---- + +I could not finish, for she gave a little sob. She turned to me. "It +is you who marry for pity," she cried, with her eyes brimming. "I +could not. I would not. And I have nothing to forgive; nothing, +nothing. I would not have had you do anything else. I was proud of +you. Oh, so proud, so proud! If you had done anything else I could +never have---- Monsieur, do you love me--a little?" + +I took her in my arms. I held her close to me and looked into her +eyes. I looked deep into them and into the soul of her. I saw +understanding of me, acceptance of me as I was. I saw belief, heart +hunger, love. + +And then I laid my lips on hers. She was my wife. She was the woman +God had made for me, the woman who had trusted me through more than +death, and who had come to me through blood and agony and tears. She +was my own, and I had her there alive. I took her to myself. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +TO US AND TO OUR CHILDREN + +Hours passed and the flap of Cadillac's tent was not lifted. Outside +in the camp the drum beat for sunset. The woman heard it. She pushed +back her soft waves of hair, and a shadow fell across the light that +had been in her eyes. + +"I had forgotten," she cried, with a soft tremble of wonder in her +voice. "We have both forgotten. We promised the commandant that we +would talk about your duty to the tribes." + +I kissed her for her forgetfulness. "Talk is unnecessary," I +whispered. "I have made up my mind." + +But the drum's note had recalled her to what lay outside the tent +walls. She sighed a little and bent to me as I sat at her feet. + +"Do not make up your mind yet," she begged with a curious, tender +reluctance. "Let me tell you something first." + +I pressed her hand between my own. "I cannot listen. I can only feel. +Tell me, when did you love me first?" + +She raised her hand to hide a tide of color. "Monsieur, it is my +shame," she cried, with a little half sob of exultance. "It is my +shame, but I will tell you. The night--the night that we were married, +I lay awake for hours beset by jealousy of the woman of the miniature. +Oh, I am indeed shamed! But how could I help it? Your walk, your +laugh, your way of carrying your head! How could I keep from loving +you? But I fought it. I fought it. I knew we had to part. I went to +sleep every night with that thought uppermost." + +I took the hand I held, and quieted its trembling against my lips. +"You are my wife," I said. "We shall never part. We shall live +together till we are very old." The marvel of my own words awed me. + +But she begged me to hear her out. "I must speak of the past," she +went on. "It leads to what I would have you say to the commandant. +Will you listen?" + +"I will try." + +"Then--then let me speak of the day we parted. I saw that I had to +leave you. I knew--I thought I knew--that country was more sacred than +individual happiness. But I was weaker than I thought. When I saw +Michillimackinac fade, when I knew that I should never see you again, +my life seemed to stop. I begged my cousin to take me back. I--I +begged till I fainted." + +I could not keep my hands from clenching. "And he refused you?" I +asked with my lips dry, and I knew that my voice showed hate of a man +who was dead. + +She did not answer my question, and when she did not defend him I knew +that he had been hard to her. "I must have remained unconscious a long +time," she hurried on, "for when I came to myself again the country was +different and the sun was low. I was exhausted, and I could not think +as I had done. You had said that patriotism was a man-made feeling, +and I repeated your words over and over. It was all I could seem to +remember. I could not see why our parting had been necessary. I +wonder if you can understand. It was as if I had been reborn into a +new set of beliefs. All that had seemed inevitable and great had grown +trivial. I could not see distinctions as I had. God made us--English, +French, Indians. I could not understand what patriotism stood for, +after all. I did not know what had come upon my mind, but I saw that +words that I had thought worth sacrificing life for had lost their +meaning. And so--and so---- You see what I would say. I have +changed. If you wish to lead the tribes you are not to think of me." + +I rose and drew her to me. "But, Mary, I no longer wish to lead the +tribes." + +She could not understand me, as indeed I could not wholly understand +myself. She looked at me gravely and long, and she tried to find the +truth in me,--the truth that was out of sight; the truth about myself +that even I did not know. + +"Was the commandant right?" she queried. "Is it anxiety about me that +has changed your plans?" + +I could only shake my head at her. "I am not sure." Then I sat beside +her and tried to explain. "Simon is dead, Pierre died saving me. +Leclerc and Labarthe died under torture. I sacrificed them to enforce +a belief. And now the belief is a phantom. It is very strange. Mary, +we have traveled by different roads, but we have reached the same goal. +My ambition for conquest is put away." + +She drew a long breath, and I saw splendid understanding of me in the +look she gave. Yet she was unconvinced. + +"Perhaps this feeling may pass," she argued. "It may be temporary. +Then you will regret your lost hold with the tribes." + +I smiled at her. "I love you," I murmured. "I love you. I love you. +I am tired of talk of blood and war. Mary, you accepted me as I was, +accept me, if you can, as I am now. I cannot analyze myself. I cannot +promise what I will believe as time goes on. But this I know. I was +born with a sword in my hand, but now I cannot use it--for aggression. +I do not mean that I think it is wrong. I do not know what I believe. +Time will tell." + +The strange light that made her seem all spirit flamed in the glance +that thanked me. + +"Yet think well," she cautioned. "I--I am proud of you." Her voice +sank to a whisper. "Sometimes even my love seems swallowed in my pride +in you. I live on my pride in your power. Think of your unfinished +work. No, no, you must go on." + +I took her by the shoulders. "You strange, double woman!" I cried, +with my voice unsteady. "You command me to do something, the while you +are trembling from head to foot for fear I will obey. Will you always +play the martyr to your spirit? Mary, I shall not lead the tribes." + +"But your unfinished work!" + +"What was worth doing has been done. This crisis is past. The west +will be safe from the Iroquois for some time. There is other work for +me. We will go to France. I have business there. Then I would show +the world my wife." + +Yet she held me away a moment longer. "You can do this without regret?" + +I folded her to me. "It is the only path I see before me," I answered +her. + +And then, for the first time, she sobbed as she lay in my arms. + +A little later we stood together in the tent door. The sunset was lost +in the woods behind and the shadows were long and cool. The camp was +gay. All memory of death and conquest was put aside, and the men were +living in the moment. French and Indians were feasting, and there were +song and talk and the movement of lithe bodies, gayly clad. The water +babbled strange songs upon the shore, and the forest was full of quiet +and mystery. The wilderness, the calm, unfathomed wilderness, had +forgotten sorrow and carnage. We forgot, too. + +I suddenly laughed as of old, and the sound did not jar. The woman on +my arm laughed with me. A thrush was singing. Life was before me, and +the woman of my love loved me. My blood tingled and I breathed deep. +The wood smoke--the smoke of the pathfinder's fire--pricked keen in my +nostrils. + +I pointed the woman to the forest. "We shall come back to it," I +cried. "We leave it now, but we shall come back to it, some time, +somehow. Perhaps we shall be settlers, explorers. I do not know. But +we shall come back. This land belongs to us; to us and to our children +and our children's children. French or English, what will it matter +then? It will be a new race." + +The woman turned. I heard her quick breath and saw the red flood her +from chin to brow. "A new race!" she repeated, and her eyes grew dark +with the splendor of the thought. She clasped her hands, and looked to +the west over the unmapped forest, and I knew that for the moment her +blood was pulsing, not for me, but for that unborn race which was to +hold this land. I had married a woman, yes, but also I had married a +poet and a dreamer and a will incarnate. It was such spirit as hers +that would shape the destinies of nations yet to come. + +I laughed again, and the joy of life ran through me like delirium. + +"Come!" I cried to her. "Come, we will tell Cadillac that to-morrow we +start for Montreal. The sooner we leave, the sooner we return,--return +to smell the wood smoke, and try the wilderness together. Come, Mary, +come." + +And wrapping my wife in the cloak that the savage king had given her, I +led her out and stood beside her while I sent the tribes upon their way. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONTLIVET*** + + +******* This file should be named 16733.txt or 16733.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/7/3/16733 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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