When Wilderness Was King
by Randall Parrish · English · Gutenberg #17890 · 512,251 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: When Wilderness Was King
Author: Randall Parrish
Release date: March 1, 2006 [eBook #17890]
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/17890
Credits: E-text prepared by Al Haines
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHEN WILDERNESS WAS KING ***
E-text prepared by Al Haines
WHEN WILDERNESS WAS KING
A Tale of the Illinois Country
by
RANDALL PARRISH
Author of "My Lady of the North"
A. L. Burt Company, Publishers
New York
Copyright by A. C. McClurg & Co.
1904
Published March 26, 1904
Second Edition, April 20, 1904
Third Edition, July 2, 1904
Fourth Edition, September 20, 1904
Fifth Edition, October 20, 1904
Sixth Edition, January 2, 1905
Seventh Edition, December, 1905
Entered at Stationers' Hall, London
All Rights Reserved
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. A Message from the West
II. The Call of Duty
III. A New Acquaintance
IV. Captain Wells of Fort Wayne
V. Through the Heart of the Forest
VI. From the Jaws of Death
VII. A Circle in the Sand
VIII. Two Men and a Maid
IX. In Sight of the Flag
X. A Lane of Peril
XI. Old Fort Dearborn
XII. The Heart of a Woman
XIII. A Wager of Fools
XIV. Darkness and Surprise
XV. An Adventure Underground
XVI. "Prance wins, Monsieur!"
XVII. A Contest of Wits
XVIII. Glimpses of Danger
XIX. A Conference and a Resolve
XX. In the Indian Camp
XXI. A Council of Chiefs
XXII. The Last Night at Dearborn
XXIII. The Death-Shadow of the Miamis
XXIV. The Day of Doom
XXV. In the Jaws of the Tiger
XXVI. The Field of the Dead
XXVII. A Ghostly Vision
XXVIII. An Angel in the Wilderness
XXIX. A Soldier of France
XXX. The Rescue at the Stake
XXXI. A Search, and its Reward
XXXII. The Pledge of a Wyandot
XXXIII. An Intervention of Fate
XXXIV. A Stumble in the Dark
XXXV. The Battle on the Shore
XXXVI. In the New Gray Dawn
"I saw a dot upon the map, and a housefly's filmy wing--
They said 'twas Dearborn's picket-flag, when Wilderness was King.
* * * * * *
I heard the block-house gates unbar, the column's solemn tread,
I saw the Tree of a single leaf its splendid foliage shed
To wave awhile that August morn above the column's head;
I heard the moan of muffled drum, the woman's wail of fife,
The Dead March played for Dearborn's men just marching out of life;
The swooping of the savage cloud that burst upon the rank
And struck it with its thunderbolt in forehead and in flank,
The spatter of the musket-shot, the rifles' whistling rain,--
The sandhills drift round hope forlorn that never marched again."
--_Benjamin F. Taylor_.
When Wilderness Was King
CHAPTER I
A MESSAGE FROM THE WEST
Surely it was no longer ago than yesterday. I had left the scythe
lying at the edge of the long grass, and gone up through the rows of
nodding Indian corn to the house, seeking a draught of cool water from
the spring. It was hot in the July sunshine; the thick forest on every
side intercepted the breeze, and I had been at work for some hours.
How pleasant and inviting the little river looked in the shade of the
great trees, while, as I paused a moment bending over the high bank, I
could see a lazy pike nosing about among the twisted roots below.
My mother, her sleeves rolled high over her round white arms, was in
the dark interior of the milk-house as I passed, and spoke to me
laughingly; and I could perceive my father sitting in his great
splint-bottomed chair just within the front doorway, and I marked how
the slight current of air toyed with his long gray beard. The old
Bible lay wide open upon his knee; yet his eyes were resting upon the
dark green of the woods that skirted our clearing. I wondered, as I
quaffed the cool sweet water at the spring, if he was dreaming again of
those old days when he had been a man among men. How distinct in each
detail the memory of it remains! The blue sky held but one fleecy
white cloud in all its wide arch; it seemed as if the curling film of
smoke rising from our chimney had but gathered there and hung suspended
to render the azure more pronounced. A robin peeked impudently at me
from an oak limb, and a roguish gray squirrel chattered along the low
ridge-pole, with seeming willingness to make friends, until Rover,
suddenly spying me, sprang hastily around the comer of the house to
lick my hand, with glad barkings and a frantic effort to wave the stub
of his poor old tail. It was such a homely, quiet scene, there in the
heart of the backwoods, one I had known unchanged so long, that I
little dreamed it was soon to witness the turning over of a page of
destiny in my life, that almost from that hour I was to sever every
relation of the past, and be sent forth to buffet with the rough world
alone.
There were no roads, in those days, along that valley of the upper
Maumee,--merely faint bridle-paths, following ancient Indian trails
through dense woods or across narrow strips of prairie land; yet as I
hung the gourd back on its wooden peg, and lifted my eyes carelessly to
the northward, I saw a horseman riding slowly toward the house along
the river bank. There were flying rumors of coming Indian outbreaks
along the fringe of border settlements; but my young eyes were keen,
and after the first quick thrill of suspicion I knew the approaching
stranger to be of white blood, although his apparel was scarcely less
uncivilized than that of the savage. Yet so unusual were visitors,
that I grasped a gun from its pegs in the kitchen, and called warningly
to my mother as I passed on to meet the new-comer.
He was a very large and powerful man, with a matted black beard and an
extremely prominent nose. A long rifle was slung at his back, and the
heavy bay horse he bestrode bore unmistakable signs of hard travelling.
As he approached, Rover, spying him, sprang out savagely; but I caught
and held him with firm grip, for to strangers he was ever a surly brute.
"Is this yere Major Wayland's place?" the man questioned, in a deep,
gruff voice, reining in his tired horse, and carelessly flinging one
booted foot across the animal's neck as he faced me.
"Yes," I responded with caution, for we were somewhat suspicious of
stray travellers in those days, and the man's features were not
pleasing. "The Major lives here, and I am his son."
He looked at me intently, some curiosity apparent in his eyes, as he
deliberately drew a folded paper from his belt.
"No? Be ye the lad what downed Bud Eberly at the meetin' over on the
Cow-skin las' spring?" he questioned, with faintly aroused interest.
I blushed like a school-girl, for this unexpected reference was not
wholly to my liking, though the man's intentions were evidently most
kind.
"He bullied me until I could take no more," I answered, doubtfully;
"yet I hurt him more seriously than I meant."
He laughed at the trace of apology in my words.
"Lord!" he ejaculated, "don't ever let that worry ye, boy. The hull
settlement is mighty glad 'twas done. Old Hawkins bin on the p'int o'
doin' it himself a dozen o' times. Told me so. Ye 're quite a lad,
ain't ye? Weigh all o' hundred an' seventy, I 'll bet; an' strong as
an ox. How old be ye, anyhow?"
"Twenty," I answered, not a little mollified by his manner. "You must
live near here, then?"
"Wal, no, but been sorter neighbor o' yourn fer a month er so back;
stoppin' up at Hawkins's shebang, at the ford, on the Military Road,
visitin'; but guess I never met up with none o' your folks afore. My
name 's Burns, Ol' Tom Burns, late o' Connecticut. A sojer from out
West left this yere letter fer yer father at Hawkins's place more nor a
week ago. Said as how it was mighty important; but blamed if this was
n't the fust chance he 's hed to git it over yere sence. I told him I
'd fetch it, as it was n't more nor a dozen miles er so outer my way."
He held out a square paper packet; and while I turned it over curiously
in my hand,--the first letter I had ever seen,--he took some loose
tobacco from an outside pocket and proceeded leisurely to fill his pipe.
My mother rolled my father's chair forward into the open doorway, and
stood close behind him, as was her custom, one arm resting lightly upon
the quaintly carved chair-back.
"What is it, John?" she questioned gently. Instantly aroused by her
voice, I crossed quickly over and placed the packet in my father's thin
hands. He turned it over twice before he opened it, looking at the odd
seal, and reading the superscription carefully aloud, as if fearful
there might be some mistake:
"Major David Wayland,
Along the Upper Maumee.
Leave at Hawkins Ford
on Military Road."
"Important."
I can see him yet as he read it, slowly feeling his way through the
rude, uneven writing, with my mother leaning over his shoulder and
helping him, her rosy cheeks and dark tresses making strange contrast
beside his pain-racked features and iron-gray hair.
"Read it aloud, Mary," he said at last. "I shall understand it better.
'T is from Roger Matherson, of whom you have heard me speak."
My mother was a good scholar, and she read clearly, only hesitating now
and, then over some ill-written or misspelled word.
At FORT DEARBORN, near the head of the
Great Lake. Twelfth June, 1812.
My DEAR OLD FRIEND:
I have come to the end of life; they tell me it will be all over by the
morrow, and there remains but one thing that greatly troubles me--my
little girl, my Elsa. You know I have never much feared death, nor do
I in this hour when I face it once more; for I have ever tried to honor
God and do my duty as both man and soldier. David, I can scarcely
write, for my mind wanders strangely, and my fingers will but barely
grasp the pen. 'T is not the grip of the old sword-hand you knew so
well, for I am already very weak, and dying. But do you yet remember
the day I drew you out of the rout at Saratoga, and bore you away
safely, though the Hessians shot me twice? God knows, old friend, I
never thought to remind you of the act,--'twas no more than any comrade
would have done,--yet I am here among strangers, and there is no one
else living to whom I may turn in my need. David, in memory of it,
will you not give my little orphan child a home? Your old comrade,
upon his death-bed, begs this of you with his final breath. She is all
alone here, save for me, and there is no blood kin in all the world to
whom I may appeal. I shall leave some property, but not much. As you
love your own, I pray you be merciful in this hour to my little girl.
Your old comrade,
ROGER MATHERSON.
This had been endorsed by another and bolder hand:
Captain Roger Matherson, late of the Massachusetts Continental Line,
died at this fort, of fever, fourteenth June, 1812. His daughter is
being cared for by the ladies of the garrison.
NATHAN HEALD,
Capt. First Regt. Inf., Commanding.
The tears were clinging to my mother's long lashes as she finished the
reading; she was ever tender of heart and sympathetic with sorrow. My
father sat in silence, looking far off at the green woods. Presently
he took the paper again into his hands, folded it carefully in the old
creases, and placed it safely away between the Bible leaves. I saw my
mother's fingers steal along the arm of the chair until they closed
softly over his.
"The poor little lamb!" she said gently.
My father's old sword hung over the fireplace, and I saw his glance
wander toward it, as something seemed to rise choking in his throat.
He was always a man who felt deeply, yet said but little; and we both
knew he was thinking about the old days and the strong ties of
comradeship.
The stranger struck flint and steel to light his pipe; the act
instantly recalled my father to the demands of hospitality.
"Friend," he said, speaking firmly, "hitch to the stump yonder, and
come in. You have brought me sad news enough, yet are no less welcome,
and must break bread at our board. John," and he turned toward me,
"see to friend Burns's horse, and help your mother to prepare the
dinner."
Out in the rude shed, which, answered as a kitchen during summer
weather, I ventured to ask:
"Mother, do you suppose he will take the little girl?"
"I hope so, John," she answered, soberly; "but your father must decide
himself. He will not tell us until he has thought it all out alone."
CHAPTER II
THE CALL OF DUTY
It was upon my mind all through that long afternoon, as I swung the
scythe in the meadow grass. I saw Burns ride away up the river trail
soon after I returned to work, and wondered if he bore with him any
message from my father. It was like a romance to me, to whom so few
important things had ever happened. In some way, the coming of this
letter out of the great unknown had lifted me above the narrow life of
the clearing. My world had always been so small, such a petty and
restricted circle, that this new interest coming within its horizon had
widened it wonderfully.
I had grown up on the border, isolated from what men term civilization;
and I could justly claim to know chiefly those secrets which the
frontier teaches its children. My only remembrance of a different mode
of life centred about the ragged streets of a small New England
village, where I had lived in earlier childhood. Ever since, we had
been in the depths of the backwoods; and after my father's accident I
became the one upon whom the heavier part of the work fell. I had
truly thrived upon it. In my hunting-trips, during the dull seasons, I
learned many a trick of the forest, and had already borne rifle twice
when the widely scattered settlements were called to arms by Indian
forays. There were no schools in that country; indeed, our nearest
neighbor was ten miles distant as the crow flies. But my mother had
taught me, with much love and patience, from her old treasured
school-books; and this, with other lore from the few choice volumes my
father clung to through his wanderings, gave me much to ponder over. I
still remember the evenings when he read to us gravely out of his old
Shakespeare, dwelling tenderly upon passages he loved. And he
instructed me in other things,--in honor and manliness, in woodcraft,
and many a pretty thing at arms, until no lad in the settlements around
could outdo me in rough border sport. I loved to hear him, of a
boisterous winter night,--he spoke of such matters but seldom,--tell
about his army life, the men he had fought beside and loved, the daring
deeds born of his younger blood. In that way he had sometimes
mentioned this Roger Matherson; and it was like a blow to me now to
hear of his death. I wondered what the little girl would be like; and
my heart went out to her in her loneliness. Scarcely realizing it, I
was lonely also.
"Has he spoken yet?" I questioned anxiously of my mother, as I came up
to the open kitchen door when the evening chores were done.
"No, John," she answered, "he has been sitting there silently looking
out at the woods ever since the man left. He is thinking, dear, and we
must not worry him."
The supper-table had been cleared away, and Seth, the hired man, had
crept up the creaking ladder to his bed under the eaves, before my
father spoke. We were all three together in the room, and I had drawn
his chair forward, as was my custom, where the candle-light flickered
upon his face. I knew by the look of calm resolve in his gray eyes
that a decision had been reached.
"Mary," he began gravely, "and you, John, we must talk together of this
new duty which has just come to us. I hardly know what to decide, for
we are so poor and I am now so helpless; yet I have prayed earnestly
for guidance, and can but think it must be God's will that we care for
this poor orphan child of my old friend."
My mother crossed the room to him, and bent down until her soft cheek
touched his lips.
"I knew you would, David," she whispered, in the tender way she had,
her hand pressing back his short gray hair. "She shall ever be unto us
as our own little girl,--the one we lost come back to us again."
My father bent his head wearily upon one hand, his eyes upon the candle
flame, his other hand patting her fingers.
"It must be all of ten years," he said slowly, "since last I had word
of Roger Matherson. He was in Canada then, yet has never since been
long out of my mind. He saved my life, not once alone, as he would
seem to remember, but three separate times in battle. We were children
together in the blue Berkshire hills, and during all our younger
manhood were more than brothers. His little one shall henceforth be as
my own child. God hath given her unto us, Mary, as truly as if she had
been born of our love. I knew that Roger had married, yet heard
nothing of the birth of the child or the loss of his wife. However,
from this hour the orphan is to be our own; and we must now decide upon
some safe means of bringing her here without delay."
He paused. No one of us spoke. His glance slowly wandered from the
candle flame, until it settled gravely upon my face as I sat resting on
a rude bench fitted into the chimney corner. He looked so intently at
me that my mother seemed instantly to interpret his thought.
"Oh, surely not that, David?" she exclaimed, pleadingly. "Not John?"
"I know of no other fit messenger, little woman," he answered soberly.
"It has indeed troubled me far more than all the rest, to decide on
this; yet there is no one else whom I think equal to the task. John is
a good boy, mother, and has sufficient experience in woodcraft to make
the journey."
"But the savages!" she insisted. "'T is said we are upon the verge of
a fresh outbreak, stirred up by this new war with England, that may
involve the settlements at any time. You know Burns told you just
now,--and he is an old scout, familiar with the West,--that British
agents were active along the whole border, and there was great
uneasiness among the Indian tribes."
"There is serious promise of danger, 't is true," he admitted, a flash
of the old fire in his eyes. "Yet that is scarce likely to halt David
Wayland's son. Indeed, it is the greater reason why this helpless
orphan child should be early brought to our protection. Think of the
defenceless little girl exposed alone to such danger! Nor have we
means of judging, Mary, of the real seriousness of the situation to the
north and west. War between the nations may very likely arouse the
spirit of the savages, yet rumors of Indian outbreak are always on the
lips of the settlers. Burns himself was upon his return westward, and
did not seem greatly troubled lest he fail to get through. He claimed
to live at Chicagou Portage, wherever that may be. I only know it is
the extreme frontier."
My mother did not answer; and now I spoke, my cheeks aflame with
eagerness.
"Do you truly mean, sir, that I am to go in search of the little girl?"
I asked, barely trusting my own ears.
"Yes, John," my father replied gravely, motioning me to draw closer to
his chair. "This is a duty which has fallen to you as well as to your
mother and me. We can, indeed, but poorly spare you from the work at
this season; yet Seth will be able to look after the more urgent needs
of the farm while you are absent, while he would prove quite useless on
such a mission as this. Do not worry, Mary. Friend Burns is well
acquainted with all that western country, and he tells me there is
scarcely a week that parties of soldiers, or friendly Indians, do not
pass along the trail, and that by waiting at Hawkins's place for a few
days John will be sure to find some one with whom he may companion on
the long journey westward. He would himself have accompanied him, but
must first bear a message to friends at Vincennes. It is now some
weeks since Roger Matherson died, and we shall prove unworthy of our
trust if we delay longer in sending for his daughter."
Though my mother was a western woman, patient and long habituated to
sacrifice and peril, still her eyes, fixed upon my face, were filled
with tears, and the color had deserted her cheeks.
"I know not why it should be so, David," she urged softly; "but in my
heart I greatly fear this trip for John. Yet you have ever found me
ready to yield wherever it seemed best, and I doubt not you are right
in your decision."
At any other time I should have gone to her with words of comfort and
good cheer; but now my ambition was so aroused by this impending
adventure as to permit me to think of nothing else.
"Is it so very far, father, to where I must go?" I questioned, eagerly.
"Where is this Fort Dearborn, and how am I to journey in reaching
there? 'T is no garrison of which I have ever heard."
"Bring me the map your mother made of this country, and the regions to
the westward," he said. "I am not over clear in regard to the matter
myself, although friend Burns, who claims to know all that country,
gave me some brief description; but I found him most chary of speech."
I got the map out of the great square cupboard in the corner, and
spread the paper flat upon the table, placing knives at each corner to
hold it open. I rolled his chair up before it, and the three of us
bent our heads over the map together, our faces glowing in the candle
flame. It was a copy made by a quill from a great government map my
mother had seen somewhere in her journeying westward; and, though only
a rude design, it was not badly done, and was sufficiently accurate for
our purpose. Much of it was still blank; yet the main open trails had
been traced with care, the principal fords over the larger streams were
marked, and the various government posts and trading settlements
distinctly located and named. Searching for the head of the Great
Lake, we were not long in discovering the position of the fort called
Dearborn, which seemingly was posted upon the western shore, nearly
opposite another garrison point at the mouth of the St. Joseph river.
We were able to trace with clearness the military road that had been
constructed northward from Fort Wayne, our nearest government post; but
the map failed to exhibit evidence of any beaten track, or used trail,
leading westward and around the head of the lake. There were numerous
irregular lines which denoted unnamed streams, but by far the larger
portion of the territory extending to the west beyond Fort Wayne had
been simply designated as "forest land" and "unexplored."
"Friend Burns tells me there is a trail used by both troops and
savages, which he has traversed several times," my father explained, as
he lifted his eyes from the map; "but it is not over plain, nor easily
followed, as communication with the Fort is mostly maintained by means
of the waterways to the northward. The overland journey, however, will
prove speedier, besides being less liable to disaster for one
unaccustomed to boats. How soon can John be ready, mother?"
Her voice trembled, and I felt the pressure of her hand upon my sleeve.
"It will take all of the morrow, David, to prepare his clothing
properly," she replied, with the patient resignation of the frontier.
"There is much that will need seeing after."
"Then John will start the next dawn. You had best ride the brown colt,
my son; he is of good breed, and speedy. Seth shall accompany you
until you find suitable companionship at Hawkins's. He will bring back
word of how you started, and that knowledge will greatly comfort your
mother."
He paused, and held out his thin hands.
"You go upon this strange journey willingly, my son?"
"Yes, father."
"You will be both kind and thoughtful with Roger Matherson's little
girl?"
"She shall be to me as my own sister."
I felt the confiding clasp of his fingers, and realized how much to him
would be a successful termination of my journey.
"Kiss your mother, John," he said, a trustful look coming into his
kindly eyes. "We must all be astir early on the morrow."
Beneath the rived shingles of my little room, under the sloping roof,
how I turned and tossed through those long night hours! What visions,
both asleep and awake, came to me, thronging fast upon my heated brain,
each more marvellous than its fellow, and all alike pointing toward
that strange country which I was now destined by fate to travel! Vague
tales of wonder and mystery had come floating to me out of that unknown
West, and now I was to behold it all with my own eyes. But marvellous
as were my dreams, the reality was to be even more amazing than these
pictures of boyish imagination. Had I known the truth that night, I
doubt greatly whether I should have had the courage to face it.
At last the gray dawn came, stealing in at the only window, and found
me eager for the trial.
CHAPTER III
A NEW ACQUAINTANCE
I drew rein upon the upper river bank, before we finally plunged into
the dark woods beyond, and glanced back. I had to brush the gathering
tears from my eyes before I could see clearly; and when I finally rode
away, the picture of that dear old home was fixed in my memory forever.
Our house stood near the centre of an oak opening,--a little patch of
native prairie-land, with a narrow stream skirting it on one side, and
a dense fringe of forest all about. The small story-and-a-half cabin
of hewn logs, with its lean-to of rough hand-riven planks, fronted to
the southward; and the northern expanse of roof was green with moss.
My father sat in the open doorway, his uplifted hand shading his eyes
as he gazed after us; while my mother stood by his side, one arm
resting upon the back of his chair, the other extended, waving a white
cloth in farewell. Rover was without, where I had bidden him remain,
eagerly watching for some signal of relenting upon my part. Beyond
stood the rude out-buildings, silhouetted against the deep green. It
was a homely, simple scene,--yet till now it had been all the world to
me.
With a final wave of the hand, I moved forward, until the intervening
trees, like the falling of a curtain, hid it all from view. Seth was
astride the old mare, riding bareback, his white goat-like beard
hanging down his breast until it mingled with her mane, while his long
thin legs were drawn up in the awkward way he had. He was a strange,
silent, gloomy man, as austere as his native hills; and we rode on with
no exchange of speech. Indeed, my thoughts were of a nature that I had
no wish to share with another; so it was some time before the depth of
loneliness which oppressed my spirits enabled me to feel even passing
interest in the things at hand.
"I 'd hate like thunder ter be a-goin' on your trip, Maester John,"
volunteered Seth at last, solemnly turning on the mare's broad back to
face me.
"And why?" I asked, wonderingly; for the man's rare gift of silence had
won him a certain reputation for deep, occult knowledge which I could
not wholly ignore. "It will bring me the sight of some wonderful
country, no doubt."
His shrewd gimlet eyes seemed fairly to pierce me, as he deliberately
helped himself to tobacco from a pouch at his waist.
"Wal, that may all be, Maester John; but I've heerd tell ther is some
most awful things goes on out yonder," and he swung his long arm
meaningly toward the west. "Animyles sich as don't prowl raound yere,
man-yeatin' snakes as big as thet tree, an' the blood-thirstiest
salvages as ever was. An' arter a while ther ain't no more trees
grows, ther lan' is thet poor, by gosh! jist a plumb dead levil er'
short grass, an' no show ter hide ner nuthin'."
"Were you ever there, Seth?" I questioned with growing anxiety, for I
had heard some such vague rumors as these before.
"Me? Not by a dinged sight!" he replied, emphatically. "This yere is
a long way further west thin I keer 'bout bein'. Ol' Vermont is plenty
good 'nough fer this chicken, an' many 's ther day I wish I was back
ther. But I hed a cousin onct who tuk ter sojerin' 'long with Gineral
Clarke, an' went 'cross them ther prairies ter git Vincennes frum the
British. Lor'! it must a' bin more ner thirty year ago! He tol' me
thet they jist hed ter wade up ter ther neck in water fer days an'
days. I ain't so durn fond o' water as all thet. An' he said as how
rattlesnakes was everywhere; an' ther Injuns was mos' twice es big es
they be yere."
"But Clarke, and nearly all of his men, got back safely," I protested.
"Oh, I guess some on 'em got back, 'cause they was an awful lot in thet
army, mighty nigh two thousand on 'em, Ephriam said; but, I tell ye,
they hed a most terrible tough time afore they did git hum. I seed my
cousin whin he kim back, an' he was jist a mere shadder; though he was
bigger ner you whin he went 'way."
"But Fort Dearborn is much farther to the north. Perhaps it will be
better up there."
"Wuss," he insisted, with a most mournful shake of the head, "a dinged
sight wuss. Ephriam said es how the further north ye wint, the tougher
it got. He saw an Injun from up near the big lake--a Pottamottamie, or
somethin' like thet--what was nine fut high, an' he told him es how the
rivers in his kintry was all full o' man-eatin' critters like snakes,
an' some on 'em hed a hundred legs ter crawl with, an' cud travel a
dinged sight faster ner a hoss. By gosh! but you bet I don't want none
on it. Your father must 'a' been plum crazy fer ter sind ye way out
ther all 'lone,--jist a green boy like you. What ye a-goin' fer,
enyhow?"
I explained to him the occasion and necessity for my trip, but he shook
his head dubiously, his long face so exceedingly mournful that I could
not remain unaffected by it.
"Wal," he said at length, carefully weighing his words, "maybe it's all
right 'nough, but I 've got my doubts jist the same. I 'll bet thet
ther gal is jist one o' them will-o'-the-wisps we hear on, an' you
never will find her. You 'll jist wander 'round, huntin' an' huntin'
her, till ye git old, or them monsters git ye. An' I 'll be blamed if
ever I heerd tell o' no sich fort as thet, nohow."
Seth was certainly proving a Job's comforter; and I was already
sufficiently troubled about the final outcome of my adventure. Hence
my only hope of retaining any measure of courage was to discountenance
further conversation, and we continued to jog along in silence,
although I caught him looking at me several times in a manner that
expressed volumes.
We camped that night in the dense heart of some oak woods, beside a
pleasant stream of clear, cool water. Late the following evening, just
as the sun was disappearing behind the trees, our wearied horses
emerged suddenly upon the bank of a broad river, and we could discern
the dim outlines of Hawkins's buildings amid the deepening shadows of
the opposite shore.
Upon one thing I was now fully determined. Seth should start back with
the first streak of the next dawn. His long face and dismal croakings
kept me constantly upon nettles, and I felt that I should face the
uncertain future with far stouter heart if he were out of my sight.
Firm in this resolve, I urged my horse to splash his reluctant way
through the shallows of the ford; and as our animals rose on the steep
bank of the western shore, we found ourselves at once in the midst of a
group of scattered buildings. It seemed quite a settlement in that dim
light, although the structures were all low and built of logs. The
largest and most centrally located of these was evidently the
homestead, as it had a rudely constructed porch in front, and a thin
cloud of smoke was drifting from its chimney. As I drew nearer, I
could perceive the reflection of a light streaming out through the open
doorway.
No one appeared in answer to our shouting,--not even a stray dog; and,
in despair of thus arousing the inhabitants, I flung my rein to Seth,
and, mounting the doorstep, peered within. As I did so, a shiny,
round, black face, with whitened eyes and huge red lips, seemed to
float directly toward me through the inner darkness. It was so
startling an apparition that I sprang back in such haste as nearly to
topple over backward from the steps. Heaven alone knows what I fancied
it might be; indeed, I had little enough time in which to guess, for I
had barely touched the ground,--my mind still filled with memories of
Seth's grotesque horrors,--when the whole figure emerged into view, and
I knew him instantly for a negro, though I had never before seen one of
his race. He was a dandified-looking fellow, wearing a stiff white
waistcoat fastened by gilded buttons, with a pair of short curly
mustaches, waxed straight out at the ends; and he stood there grinning
at me in a manner that showed all his gleaming teeth. Before I could
recover my wits enough to address him, I heard a voice from within the
house,--a soft, drawling voice, with a marked foreign accent clinging
to it.
"Sam," it called, "have you found either of the scoundrelly rascals?"
The darkey started as if shot, and glanced nervously back over his
shoulder.
"No, sah," he replied with vigor, "dat Mistah Hawkins am not yere, sah.
An' dat Mistah Burns has gone 'way fer gud, sah. But dar am a gemman
yere, sah,--"
"What!" came a surprised ejaculation that caused the negro to jump, and
I heard a chair overturned within. "A gentleman? Sam, don't deceive
me! For the love of Heaven, let me see him. May I be bastinadoed if
it hasn't been three months since my eyes beheld the last specimen!
Sam, where was it I saw the last one?"
"Montreal, sah."
"By Saint Guise! 'tis gospel truth," and the speaker strode forward,
candle in hand. "Here, now, you ace of spades," he cried impatiently,
"hold the flame until I bid this paragon of the wilderness fit welcome
in the name of Hawkins, who strangely seems to have vanished from the
sylvan scene. Alas, poor Hawkins! two gentlemen at one time, I greatly
fear, will be the death of him. Would that his good friend Burns might
be with him on this festive occasion. Ye gods, what a time it would
be!"
As the black hastily reached out for the candlestick, his erratic
master as quickly changed his mind.
"No," he muttered thoughtfully, drawing back within the hall; "'tis far
more fit that such formal greeting should occur within, where the
essentials may be found with which to do full courtesy. I will instead
retire. Sam, bid the gentleman meet me in the banquet hall, and then,
mark you, thou archfiend of blackness, seek out at once that man
Hawkins in his hidden lair, and bid him have ample repast spread
instantly, on pain of my displeasure. By all the saints! if it be not
at once forthcoming I will toast the scoundrel over his own slow fire."
"Seth," I said to my staring companion, as soon as I could recover from
my own surprise, "find a place for the horses somewhere in the stables,
and come in."
"Where is your master to be found?" I questioned of the black, whose
air of self-importance had been resumed the moment he was left alone.
"Second door to de right, sah," he answered, gazing curiously at my
deerskin hunting-shirt as I pressed by.
I had little difficulty in finding it, for all that the way was totally
dark, as the fellow within was lustily carolling a French love-song. I
hung back for a moment, striving vainly to distinguish the words.
Without pausing to make my presence known, I opened the door quietly,
and stepped within. The room was not a large one, though it occupied
the full width of the house; and the two lighted candles that illumined
it, one sitting upon a table otherwise bare, the other occupying the
rude dresser in the far corner, revealed clearly the entire interior.
The sole occupant of the room sat upon a corner of the table, one foot
resting on the floor, the other dangling carelessly. Hardly more than
a year my elder, he bore in his face the indelible marks of a life
vastly different. His features were clear-cut, and undeniably
handsome, with a curl of rare good-humor to his lips and an audacious
sparkle within his dark eyes. His hat, cocked and ornamented in
foreign fashion, lay beside him; and I could not help noting his long
hair, carefully powdered and arranged with a nicety almost conspicuous,
while his clothing was rich in both texture and coloring, and exhibited
many traces of vanity in ribbon and ornament. Within his belt,
fastened by a large metal clasp, he wore a pearl-handled pistol with
long barrel; and a rapier, with richly jewelled hilt, dangled at his
side. Altogether he made a fine figure of a man, and one of a sort I
had never met before.
If he interested me, doubtless I was no less a study to him. I could
see the astonishment in his eyes, after my first entrance, change to
amusement as he gazed. Then he brought a white hand down, with a smart
slap, upon the board beside him.
"By all the saints!" he exclaimed, "but I believe the black was right.
'Tis the face of a gentle, or I know naught of the breed, though the
attire might fool the very elect. Yet, _parbleu_! if memory serves, 't
is scarcely worse than what I wore in Spain."
He swung down upon his feet and faced me, extending one hand with all
cordiality, while lips and eyes smiled pleasantly.
"Monsieur," he said, bowing low, and with a grace of movement quite new
to me, "I bid you hearty welcome to whatsoever of good cheer this
desert may have to offer, and present to you the companionship of
Villiers de Croix. It may not seem much, yet I pledge you that kings
have valued it ere now."
It was a form of introduction most unfamiliar to me, and seemed
bristling with audacity and conceit; but I recognized the heartiness of
his purpose, and hastened to make fit response.
"I meet you with much pleasure," I answered, accepting the proffered
hand. "I am John Wayland."
The graceful recklessness of the fellow, so conspicuous in each word
and action, strongly attracted me. I confess I liked him from his
first utterance, although mentally, and perhaps morally as well, no two
men of our age could possibly be more unlike.
"Wayland?" he mused, with a shrug, as if the sound of the word was
unpleasant. "Wayland?--'t is a harsh name to my ears, yet I have heard
it mentioned before in England as that of a great family. You are
English, then?"
I shook my head emphatically; for the old wounds of controversy and
battle were then being opened afresh, and the feeling of antagonism ran
especially high along the border.
"I am of this country," I protested with earnestness, "and we call
ourselves Americans."
He laughed easily, evidently no little amused at my retort, twisting
his small mustache through his slender fingers as he eyed me.
"Ah! but that is all one to me; it is ever the blood and not the name
that counts, my friend. Now I am French by many a generation, Gascon
by birth, and bearing commission in the Guard of the Emperor; yet
sooth, 't is the single accursed drop of Irish blood within my veins
that brings me across the great seas and maroons me in this howling
wilderness. But sit down, Monsieur. There will be both food and wine
served presently, and I would speak with you more at ease."
As he spoke he flung himself upon a low settee, carelessly motioning me
toward another.
"On my word," he said, eying me closely as I crossed over to the bench,
"but you are a big fellow for your years, and 't is strength, not
flabby flesh, or I know not how to judge. You would make a fine figure
of a soldier, John Wayland. Napoleon perchance might offer you a
marshal's baton, just to see you in the uniform. _Parbleu_! I have
seen stranger things happen."
"You are now connected with the French army?" I questioned, wondering
what could have brought him to this remote spot.
"Ay, a Captain of the Guard, yet an exile, banished from the court on
account of my sins. _Sacre_! but there are others, Monsieur. I have
but one fault, my friend,--grave enough, I admit, yet but one, upon my
honor, and even that is largely caused by that drop of Irish blood. I
love the ladies over-well, I sometimes fear; and once I dared to look
too high for favor."
"And have you stopped here long?"
"Here--at Hawkins's, mean you? Ten days, as I live; would you believe
I could ever have survived so grievous a siege?" and he looked
appealingly about upon the bare apartment. "Ten days of Hawkins and of
Sam, Monsieur; ay! and of Ol' Burns; of sky, and woods, and river, with
never so much as a real white man even to drink liquor with. By Saint
Louis! but I shall be happy enough to face you across the board
to-night. Yet surely it is not your purpose to halt here long?"
"Only until I succeed in joining some party travelling westward to the
Illinois country."
"No! is that your aim? 'T is my trip also, if Fate be ever kind enough
to bring hither a guide. _Sacre_! there was one here but now, as odd a
devil as ever bore rifle, and he hath taken the western trail alone,
for he hated me from the start. That was Ol' Burns. Know you him?"
"'T was he who brought the message that sent me here; yet he said
little of his own journey. But you mention not where you are bound?"
"I seek Fort Dearborn, on the Great Lake."
"That likewise is to be the end of my journey. You go to explore?"
"Explore? Faith, no," and he patted his hand upon the bench most
merrily. "There are but two reasons to my mind important enough to
lure a French gentleman into such a hole as this, and send him
wandering through your backwoods,--either war or love, Monsieur; and I
know of no war that calleth me."
Love, as he thus spoke of it, was almost an unknown term to me then;
and, in truth, I scarcely grasped the full significance of his meaning.
"You seek some lady, then, at Fort Dearborn?" I asked, for his tone
seemed to invite the inquiry.
"Ay!" with quickened enthusiasm; "'tis there Toinette has hidden
herself for this year or more,--Toinette, on my word as a French
soldier, the fairest maid of Montreal. I have just discovered her
whereabouts, yet I shall win her ere I traverse these trails again, or
I am not Villiers de Croix."
"I travel thither to bring back a little orphan child with me," I
explained simply, in response to his look, "and will most gladly aid
you where I can."
Before he could answer, Hawkins, a gaunt, silent frontiersman, together
with Sam, entered the room, bearing between them our evening meal.
CHAPTER IV
CAPTAIN WELLS OF FORT WAYNE
We tarried at the table a considerable time,--not because of any
tempting variety in the repast, as the food furnished was of the
coarsest, but for the sake of companionship, and because we discovered
much of passing interest to converse about. De Croix had travelled
widely, and had seen a great variety of life both in camp and court.
He proved a vivacious fellow, full of amusing anecdote,--a bottle of
rich wine drawn from his own private stock so stimulating his
imagination that I had little to do but sit and listen. Yet he
contrived to learn from me,--how, I hardly know,--the simple story of
my life, and, indeed, assumed a certain air of patronizing superiority,
boasting unduly of his wider experience and achievements in a way that
somewhat nettled me at last, as I began to comprehend that he was
merely showing off his genteel graces the better to exhibit his
contempt for my provincial narrowness. I did not permit this really to
anger me, for our views upon such matters were totally different, and I
could not help feel admiration for the brilliant and audacious fellow.
The black waited upon us while we ate and drank, moving noiselessly
across the rough floor, so keenly observant of his master's slightest
wish as to convince me the latter possessed a temper which upon
occasion burst its bounds. Yet now he was surely in the best of
humors; and with the coming of our second bottle, after the remains of
the repast had been removed, he sang several love-songs in his native
tongue, the meaning of which I could only guess at.
"Saint Guise!" he exclaimed at last, flinging one booted foot over the
table corner. "You are a very sphinx of a fellow. You deny being
English, yet you have all the silence of that nation. I am hungry,
Monsieur, for the sweet sound of the French tongue."
"'T is a language of which I know little," I answered, striving to
speak pleasantly, although his manner was becoming less and less to my
liking. "I have met with your _coureurs de bois_ in plenty, and picked
up sufficient of their common phrases to enable me to converse on
ordinary themes with them; yet I confess I find it difficult to follow
your speech."
"_Canaille_," he returned, in tone of undisguised contempt, "Canadian
half-breeds, the very offscourings of our people. _Sacre_! but you
should know us at home, Monsieur,--we are the conquerors of the world!"
I wish I could picture to you how he said this. Simple as it now
reads, he made it vital with meaning. The insolent boast was uttered
with such a swagger that my face instantly flushed, and he noted it.
"Is it not true, Monsieur?" he asked quickly, his own blood heated by
the wine. "I tell you, the whole of Europe has trembled, and will
again, at the nod of our Napoleon. Why, even over here we had to come
with our legions to help you repel the redcoats. Saint Guise! but it
was the Frenchmen who made you a nation."
"Ay! but only that they might revenge themselves upon England," I
retorted blindly, "and the force sent merely hurried a result already
inevitable; yet we gave you a slight touch of our own quality in '98
that stung a bit, I warrant."
"Bah! a ship or two. 'Twas well for you that our army was so closely
engaged elsewhere, or the story would have a different ending."
We were both of us upon our feet by this time, glaring at each other
across the board, our faces hot with the ill-restrained passion of
youth. A word more from either would surely have precipitated matters;
but before it could be spoken the door leading into the hallway was
hurriedly flung aside, and, without apology for the intrusion, two men
strode forward into the glare of light.
"Serve supper here, Hawkins," commanded the first, his back still
turned toward us. "Anything you may chance to have in the house,--only
let there be little delay."
He was a tall, dark-featured man, smoothly shaven, as swarthy as an
Indian, with stern dark eyes, thick coarse hair, and an abrupt manner
born of long command. His companion, of lighter build and younger
face, was attired in a travel-stained uniform of blue and buff; but he
who was evidently the leader was so completely wrapped within the folds
of a riding-cloak as to reveal nothing of rank other than his
unmistakable military presence and bearing. Turning from the door, he
swept a penetrating glance over us, loosening the clasp of his cloak as
he did so.
"I regret having thoughtlessly interrupted your quarrel, gentlemen," he
said brusquely, "but this appears to be the sole excuse for a
public-room in the place. However, my services are at your command if
they be desired in any way."
De Croix laughed, perfectly at his ease in a moment.
"'T is scarce so serious," he explained lightly. "A mere interchange
of compliments over the respective merits of our nations in war."
The stranger looked at him intently, and with some manifest disapproval.
"And yours, no doubt, was France," he said shortly.
De Croix bowed, his hand upon his heart.
"I have worn her uniform, Monsieur."
"I thought as much, and fear my sympathies may be altogether with your
antagonist in the controversy. Yet what's the use of wasting life like
that? Surely there is fighting enough in this world of ours for such
young blades, without inventing cause for quarrel. Come, sit down once
more, and join with us in whatsoever cheer our landlord may provide."
As he spoke, he flung aside his cloak, revealing beneath merely the
well-worn dress of a frontiersman, with an army sword-belt buckled
about the waist.
"Come, Walter," he called to his companion, who remained standing,
"there is to be no touch of ceremony here to-night. Gentlemen, I am
Captain Wells, formerly of the army, now Indian agent at Fort Wayne;
and this is Sergeant Jordan."
The Frenchman bowed gracefully, and extended a card across the table.
The other glanced at it carelessly.
"Ah! De Croix; pleased to meet you. Think I heard some of our
officers speak of seeing you a month ago at Detroit,--McBain or Ramsey,
I have forgotten which."
"I recall a game of cards with a Lieutenant Ramsey, a rather choleric
Scotchman, with a magnificent capacity for strong whiskey."
The Captain turned inquiringly toward me, and I hastened to name myself.
"Wayland, did you say?" he asked, with deepened interest. "'T is not a
common appellation, yet I once knew a Major by that name in Wayne's
command."
"My father, sir," I asserted proudly.
With quick impulsiveness he extended his hand.
"As noble a soldier as I have ever known," he exclaimed heartily. "I
served with him in two campaigns. But what are you two young fellows
doing here? for it would be hard to conceive of a more disheartening
place of residence. Surely, De Croix, you are not permanently located
in this delightful spot?"
"The saints forbid!" ejaculated the other, with an expression of horror
that caused the younger officer to smile. "Yet I have already survived
ten days of it. We seek to join some party bound westward, either to
Fort Dearborn or beyond."
The elder officer smiled gravely, as his stern eyes wandered
thoughtfully over our faces in the candle-light.
"You will scarcely find those who go beyond," he said, at last, slowly.
"That is our extreme frontier; and even this post, I hear it rumored,
is to be abandoned shortly. Indeed, I am now proceeding thither,
hoping to escort a niece safely eastward because of that very
probability. I can offer you naught save companionship and guidance
upon the journey; yet if you needs must go, you may ride with us and
welcome. But 't is my first duty to advise you strongly against it."
"You look for trouble?" I asked, for his words and manner were grave.
"I am not one easily alarmed," he answered, scanning our faces as we
fronted him; "but I have lived long among the Indians, and know them
well. This new war with England will not pass without atrocities along
the border, and in my judgment we are now on the eve of a general
uprising of the savages. It will surely come with the first news of
British success, and 't is the fear of reverses at Dearborn that has
hurried me westward. You, sir," and he turned toward me, "are young,
but it is evident you have been bred to the frontier, so you will
realize what it may mean to us if we be caught in the Illinois country
by such an uprising."
I bowed, deeply impressed by his earnestness.
"I have, indeed, seen something of savage warfare, and know much of its
horror," I replied stoutly. "Yet what you say of the possible future
only makes more urgent my duty to press on."
"And you?" he asked De Croix.
"Faith, Captain," was the instant reply, "it is the gentle hand of love
which leads me westward, and never yet did a true Frenchman hesitate in
such a quest because danger lurked between."
Wells smiled grimly.
"Then my conscience is left clear," he exclaimed heartily; "and if you
ride with me to death, 'tis of your own choosing. However, glad enough
we have cause to be thus to gain two more fighting men. I have a party
of Miamis travelling with me, and I doubt not there will be ample work
for all before we return. Here comes supper; let us eat, drink, and be
merry, even though to-morrow it be our fate to die. 'T is the best
border philosophy."
CHAPTER V
THROUGH THE HEART OF THE FOREST
We lingered long over the wine,--for that which De Croix had furnished
proved excellent, and greatly stimulated our discourse. Yet, I must
confess, it was drunk chiefly by the Frenchman and Jordan; for Wells
barely touched his glass, while I had never acquired a taste for such
liquor. De Croix waxed somewhat boastful, toward the last; but we paid
small heed to him, for I was deeply interested in Captain Wells's
earlier experiences among the savages, which he related gravely and
with much detail. Jordan proved himself a reckless, roistering young
fellow, full of high spirits when in liquor; yet I formed an impression
that he stood well in his commander's favor, for the latter warned him
kindly to be more abstemious.
However late it may have been when we finally sought rest, we were
early astir the next morning. I despatched Seth upon his return
journey to the farm, bearing under his girdle as cheerful a note of
farewell as I could frame; and then, though it was scarce later than
sun-up, the rest of us were fairly upon the westward trail. There were
in the party thirty Miami Indians, strong, lusty-looking warriors, most
of them. The larger portion of them travelled in our advance, under
command of one of their chiefs; a smaller detachment acting in similar
manner as a rear-guard. The white men, as well as the negro, who
controlled a pack animal heavily laden with his master's baggage, were
on horseback; and it pleased me greatly,--for I was young and easily
flattered,--to have Captain Wells rein in his horse at my side as soon
as we were safely across the ford, leaving the Frenchman either to
companion with Jordan or ride alone.
I looked at De Croix curiously, as he moved forward with slow
carelessness in our front, for he had kept the entire company waiting
outside the house for half an hour in the gray dawn while he curled and
powdered his hair. Doubtless this was what so disgusted Wells, whose
long black locks were worn in a simple queue, tied somewhat negligently
with a dark cord. I almost smiled at the scowl upon his swarthy face,
as he contemplated the fashionably attired dandy, whose bright-colored
raiment was conspicuous against the dark forest-leaves that walled us
round.
"I have heard it claimed these gay French beaux fight well when need
arises," he commented at last, thoughtfully; "but 't is surely a poor
place here for flaunting ribbons and curling locks. Possibly my fine
gentleman yonder may have occasion to test his mettle before we ride
back again. Sure it is that if that time ever comes he will not look
so sweet."
"You make me feel that we go forward into real peril," I said,
wondering that he should seem so fearful of the outcome. "Have you
special reason?"
"The Miamis have already been approached by Indian runners, and their
young men are restless. It was only because I am the adopted son of
Big Turtle, and a recognized warrior of their tribe, that these have
consented to accompany me; and I fear they may desert at the first sign
of a hostile meeting," he answered gravely. "There is an Indian
conspiracy forming, and a most dangerous one, involving, so far as I
can learn, every tribe north of the Ohio. Now that war with England
has actually been declared, there can no longer be doubt that the
chiefs will take sides with the British. They have everything to gain
and little to lose by such action. The rumor was at Fort Wayne, even
before we left, that Mackinac had already fallen; and if that prove
true, every post west of the Alleghanies is in danger. I fear that
death and flame will sweep the whole frontier; and I frankly
acknowledge, Wayland, my only hope in this expedition is that, by hard
travel, we may be able to reach Chicagou and return again before the
outbreak comes. Tom Burns, an old scout of Wayne's, and a settler in
that country, was at Fort Wayne a month since with an urgent message
from the commandant at Dearborn. I tell you frankly, it will be touch
and go with us."
"Chicagou?" I questioned, for the word was one I had heard but once
before and was of an odd sound.
"Ay! old Au Sable called it the Chicagou portage long before the fort
named Dearborn was ever established there. 'T is the name the French
applied to a small river entering the Great Lake from the west at that
point."
"Have you journeyed there before?"
"Once, in 1803. I held Indian council on the spot, and helped lay out
the government reservation. 'T is a strange flat country, with much
broken land extending to the northward."
Little by little our conversation lapsed into silence; for the narrow
trail we followed was a most difficult one, and at times taxed our
ingenuity to the utmost. It led through dense dark woods, fortunately
free from underbrush, skirted the uncertain edges of numerous marshes
in the soft ooze of which the hoofs of our horses sank dangerously, and
for several miles followed the sinuous course of a small but rapid
stream, the name of which I have forgotten. There were few openings in
the thick forest-growth, and the matted branches overhead, interlaced
with luxuriant wild vines, so completely shut out all vestige of the
sun that we toiled onward, hour after hour, in continuous twilight.
What mysterious signs our guides followed, I was not sufficiently
expert in woodcraft to determine. To my eyes,--and I sought to observe
with care,--there was nowhere visible the slightest sign that others
had ever preceded us; it was all unbroken, virgin wilderness, marked
only by slow centuries of growth. The accumulation of moss on the
tree-trunks, as well as the shading of the leaves, told me that we
continued to journey almost directly westward; and there was no
perceptible hesitancy in our steady progress, save as we deviated from
it here and there because of natural obstacles too formidable to be
directly surmounted.
We skirted immense trees, veritable monarchs of the ages, hoary with
time, grim guardians of such forest solitudes; climbed long hills
roughened by innumerable boulders with sharp edges hidden beneath the
fallen leaves, that lamed our horses; or descended into dark and gloomy
ravines, dank with decaying vegetation, finally halting for a brief
meal upon the southern edge of a small lake, the water of which was as
clear and blue as the cloudless August sky that arched it. The sand of
the shore where we rested was white as snow, yet De Croix had his man
spread a cloak upon it before he ventured to sit down, and with care
tucked a lace handkerchief about his throat to prevent stray crumbs
from soiling the delicate yellow of his waistcoat.
"One might fancy this was to be your wedding day, Monsieur," observed
Wells, sarcastically, as he marked these dainty preparations, and noted
with disgust the attentive negro hovering near. "We are not perfumed
courtiers dancing at the court of Versailles."
De Croix glanced about him carelessly.
"_Mon Dieu_, no," he said, tapping the lid of a richly chased silver
snuff-box with his slender fingers. "Yet, my dear friend, a French
gentleman cannot wholly forget all that belongs to the refinements of
society, even in the heart of the wilderness. Sam, by any foul chance
did you overlook the lavender water?"
"No, sah; it am safe in de saddle-bags."
"And the powder-puff, the small hand-mirror, and the curling-iron?"
"I saw to ebery one ob dem, sah."
De Croix gave a deep sigh of relief, and rested back upon the cloak,
negligently crossing his legs.
"Captain," he remarked slowly and thoughtfully, "you 've no idea the
trouble that negro is to me. Would you believe it? he actually left my
nail-brush behind at Detroit, and not another to be had for love or
money this side of Montreal! And only last night he mislaid a box of
rouge, and, by Saint Denis! I hardly dare hope there is so much as an
ounce of it in the whole party."
"I rather suspect not," was the somewhat crusty reply; "yet if a bit of
bear's grease could be made to serve your turn, we might possibly find
some among us."
"I know not its virtue," admitted the Frenchman gravely; "yet if it
reddens the lips it might be useful. But that which I had came from
the shop of Jessold in Paris, and is beyond all price."
We were ten days upon this forest journey, from the time of our
crossing the Maumee; and they were hard days, even to those of us long
habituated to the hardships of border travel. Indeed, I know few forms
of exertion that so thoroughly test the mettle of men as journeying
across the wilderness. There are no artificial surroundings, either to
inspire or restrain; and insensibly humanity returns to natural
conditions, permitting the underlying savage to gain ascendency. I
have seen more than one seemingly polished gentleman, resplendent with
all the graces of the social code, degenerate into a surly brute with
only a few hours of such isolation and the ceaseless irritation of the
trail. Yet I must acknowledge that De Croix accepted it all without a
murmur, and as became a man. His entire plaint was over the luxuries
he must forego, and he made far more ado about a bit of dust soiling
his white linen than about any real hardship of the march. 'T is my
memory that he rather grew upon us; for his natural spirits were so
high that he sang where others swore, and found cause for amusement and
laughter in much that tested sorely even the Indian-like patience of
Wells. He was like a boy, this gayly perfumed dandy of the French
court; but beneath his laces and ribbons, his affectations and
conceits, there hid a stout heart that bade him smile where other men
would lie down and die. He companioned mostly with Jordan as we
journeyed, for Wells never could become reconciled to his mincing ways;
yet I confess now that I began to value him greatly, and longed more
than once to join with the two who rode in our advance, cheering their
wearisome way with quips of fancy and snatches of song. He knew it
too, the tantalizing rascal, and would frequently send back a biting
squib over his shoulder, hoping thus to draw me away from the silent
grim-faced soldier beside whom I held place.
It was truly a rough and wild journey, full enough of hardship, and
without adventure to give zest to the ceaseless toil. I know now that
we made a wide detour to the southward, trusting thus to avoid any
possible contact with prowling bands of either Pottawattomies or
Wyandots, whom our friendly Miamis seemed greatly to dread. This took
us far from the regular trail, rough and ill-defined as that was, and
plunged us into ah untrodden wilderness; so that there were times when
we fairly had to cut our way through the twisted forest branches and
tangled brakes of cane with tomahawks and hunting-knives. We skirted
rocky bluffs, toiled painfully over fallen timber, or waded ankle deep
in softened clay, in the black gloomy shadows of dense woods which
seemed interminable, meeting with nothing human, yet constantly
startling wild game from the hidden coverts, and feeling more and more,
as we advanced, the loneliness and danger of our situation,--realizing
that each league we travelled only added to the length and peril of our
retreat if ever disaster came or Fort Dearborn were found deserted.
Captain Wells, naturally grave and silent from his long training among
savages, grew more and more reticent and watchful as we progressed,
riding often at my side for hours without uttering a word, his keen
eyes warily searching the dark openings upon every hand as if
suspecting that each spot of gloom might prove the chosen place for an
ambuscade. Our Indian allies moved like shadows, gliding over the
ground noiselessly; and the occasional outbursts of merriment from De
Croix and his equally reckless companion grew gradually less frequent,
and appeared more forced. The constant and never-ending toil of our
progress, the depressing gloom of the sombre primeval forest on every
side of us, the knowledge of possible peril lurking in each league of
this haunted silence, weighed upon us all, and at last closed the lips
of even the most jovial of our number.
It was the tenth day, as I remember,--though it may have been later,
for I have no writing to guide me concerning dates,--when we emerged
into a broad valley, treeless save for a thin fringe of dwarfed growth
skirting the bank of a shallow stream which ran almost directly
westward. I cannot describe how sweet, after our gloomy journey, the
sunlight appeared, as we first marked it play in golden waves over the
long grass; or the relief we felt at being able to gaze ahead once more
and see something of the country that we were traversing. 'Twas like a
sudden release from prison. Our jaded horses felt with us the
exhilaration of the change, and moved with greater sprightliness than
they had shown for days. As the sun began its circle downward, vast
rolling hills of white and yellow sand arose upon the right of our line
of march,--huge mounds, many of them, glistening in the sunshine, some
jagged at the summit, others rounded as if by art, so unusual in form
and presence that I ventured to address our leader regarding them, as
he rode with his head bent low and a far-off look in his eyes.
"The sand?" he questioned, glancing up as if startled at the sound of
my voice. "Why, it has been cast there by the stormy waves of the
Great Lake, my lad, and beaten into those strange and fantastic shapes
by the action of the wind. Doubtless 'tis the work of centuries of
storms."
"Are we, then, so close to the lake?" I asked eagerly,--for I had never
yet seen so large a body of water, and his description fired my
imagination.
"'T is but just beyond those dunes yonder, and will be still nearer
when we come to camp. Possibly you might reach the shore before dark
if you exercise care,--for there is danger of becoming lost in that
sand desert. Those hills seem all alike when once you are among them."
"What is it that so greatly disturbs your Miamis?" I ventured to ask,
for I had been noticing for some time that they were restless and
travelling poorly. "They have been counselling now for two hours."
He glanced aside at me in apparent surprise.
"Why, boy, I thought you were bred to the border; and can you ask me
such a question? Do you observe nothing, like that fine gentleman
yonder? What have we been following since first we entered this
valley?"
"An old Indian trail."
"True," he exclaimed, "and one that has been traversed by a large
war-party, bound west, within twelve hours."
"How know you this?"
"By a hundred signs far plainer than print will ever be to my eyes. In
faith, I thought those fellows out yonder would have summoned me to
council long ere this, instead of threshing it out among themselves.
They are bolder warriors than I deemed, though they will doubtless
revolt in earnest when we camp. We shall have to guard them well
to-night."
As he paused, his eyes fixed anxiously upon our Indian allies, De Croix
began to hum a popular tune of the day, riding meanwhile, hat in hand,
with one foot out of the stirrup to beat the time. Then Jordan caught
up the refrain, and sang a verse. I saw one or two of the older
Indians glance around at him in grave displeasure.
"The young fools!" muttered Wells, uneasily. "I shall enjoy seeing if
that French popinjay keeps all of his fine airs when the hour for stern
work comes."
He lifted his voice.
"Jordan!"
The young soldier instantly ceased his song, and turned in his saddle
to glance back.
"The time has come when I must insist on less noise, and more decorum
upon the march," Wells said sternly. "This is not Fort Wayne, nor is
our road devoid of danger. Captain de Croix, I shall have to request
you also to cease your singing for the present."
There was that in his voice and manner which forbade remark, and we
rode on silently. I asked:
"But you have not explained to me how you learned all this of which you
spoke?"
"By the use of my eyes, of course. It is all simple; there are marks
beside the beaten trail, as well as in its track, which prove clearly
the party ahead of us to be moving westward, that it travelled rapidly,
and was certainly not less than a hundred strong, with ponies and
lodge-poles. Not more than a league back we passed the evidences of a
camp that had not been deserted longer than twelve hours; and when we
crossed the river, a feather from a war-bonnet was lying in the grass.
These are small details, yet they tell the story. That feather, for
instance, was dropped from a Pottawattomie head-dress, and no doubt
there are warriors among those Indians yonder who could name the chief
who wore it. It simply means, my lad, that the savages are gathering
in toward Dearborn, and we may reach there all too late."
"Is the way yet long?" and my eyes sought the horizon, where the sun
hung like a red ball of fire.
"We should be there by the morrow," he answered, "for we are now
rounding the head of the Great Lake. I wish to God I might see what
fate awaits us there."
Young and thoughtless as I was in those days, I could not fail to
realize the depth of feeling which swayed this stern, experienced man;
and I rode on beside him, questioning no more.
CHAPTER VI
FROM THE JAWS OF DEATH
I think it must be in the blood of all of New England birth to love the
sea. They may never have seen it, nor even heard its wild, stern
music; yet the fascination of great waters is part of their heritage.
The thought of that vast inland ocean, of the magnitude and sublimity
of which I had only the vaguest conception, haunted me all that
afternoon; and I scarcely removed my eyes from those oddly constructed
mounds of drifted sand, striving vainly to gain, through some
depression between them, a fleeting glimpse of the restless waters that
had helped to shape them into such fantastic forms.
As the sun sank, angry red in our faces, presaging a storm, the course
of the little stream we had been following drew in closer toward these
grotesque piles, and the trail we followed became narrower, with the
sluggish current pressing upon one side and that odd bank of gleaming
sand upon the other. In a little open space, where quite a carpet of
coarse yellowish grass had found lodgment, beneath the protecting
shadow of a knot of cottonwoods, we finally made camp, and proceeded to
prepare our evening meal. Determined to strike north through those
guarding sand-dunes, and reach the shore of the lake if possible before
final darkness fell, I hastily crowded my pockets with food, and looked
eagerly around for some congenial companion. Captain Wells, whom I
should have preferred to be with me, was deep in conference with one of
the Miami chiefs, and not to be disturbed; Jordan had seemingly been
detailed to the command of the night-guard; so, as a last resort, I
turned aside and sought De Croix. I found him seated cross-legged on a
blanket beneath one of the cottonwoods, a silver-backed mirror propped
against a tree-butt in his front, while the obsequious darkey was
deliberately combing out his long hair and fashioning it anew. The
Frenchman glanced up at me with a welcoming smile of rare good-humor.
"Ah, sober-face! and have you at last mustered courage to break away
from the commander of this most notable company?" he cried mockingly.
"'T is passing strange he does not chain you to his saddle! By Saint
Guise! 'twould indeed be the only way in which so dull a cavalier would
ever hold me loyal to his whims. Friend Wayland, I scarce thought you
would ever thus honor me again; and yet, 't is true, I have had an
ambition within my heart ever since we first met. 'T is to cause you
to fling aside those rough habiliments of the wilderness, and attire
yourself in garments more becoming civilized man. Would that I might
induce you, even now, to permit Sam to rearrange those heavy blond
locks _à la Pompadour_. Bless me! but it would make a new man of you."
"Such is not at all my desire, Monsieur," I answered, civilly. "I came
now merely to learn if you would walk with me through these dunes of
sand before the daylight fades."
He looked out, idly enough, across that dreary expanse of desolation,
and shrugged his shoulders.
"Use the other powder, Sam, the lighter colored," he murmured
languidly, as if the sight had wearied him; "and mind you drop not so
much as a pinch upon the waistcoat."
Then he lifted his eyes inquiringly to mine.
"For what?" he asked.
"To look forth upon the Great Lake. Captain Wells tells me 't is but a
brief and safe walk from here to the shore-line."
"The lake?--water?" and the expression upon his face made me smile.
"_Mon Dieu_, man! have you become crazed by the hard march? What have
I ever said in our brief intercourse that could cause you to conceive I
care greatly for that? If it were only wine, now!"
"You have no desire to go with me, then?"
"Lay out the red tie, Sam; no, the one with the white spots in it, and
the small curling-iron. No, Monsieur; what you ask is impossible. I
travel to the west for higher purpose than to gaze upon a heaving waste
of water. _Sacre_! did I not have a full hundred days of such pleasure
when first I left France? My poor stomach has not fairly settled yet
from its fierce churning. Know ye not, Master Wayland, that we hope to
be at this Fort Dearborn upon the morrow, and 't is there I meet again
the fair Toinette? Saints! but I must look my best at such a time, not
worn and haggard from tramping through the sand. She was ever a most
critical maid in such matters, and has not likely changed. 'T is
curled too high upon the right brow, you black imp! and, as I live,
there is one hair you have missed entirely."
Realizing the uselessness of waiting longer, I turned my back upon his
vanity, and strode off alone. It is not my nature to swerve from a
purpose merely because others differ in desires; and I was now
determined to carry out my plan. I took one of the narrow depressions
between two mounds of sand and plunged resolutely forward, endeavoring
to shape my course as directly northward as the peculiarities of the
path would admit. To my mind, there was little to fear from the
hostile Indians, as every sign proved them to be hastening westward in
advance of us; while I was too long accustomed to adventure to be
easily confused, even in the midst of that lonely desolation.
I soon found the walking difficult; for I sank to the ankles with each
step, while the soft sliding sand rolled beneath me so as to yield no
solid foothold. The irregularity of the mounds continually blocked my
passage, and caused me to deviate in direction, so that I grew somewhat
bewildered, the entire surface bearing such uniformity of outline as to
afford little guide. Yet I held to my original course fairly well, for
I could pilot somewhat by the dim north star; and it was not long
before my alert ears caught the pounding of surf along the shore-line.
Much encouraged, I pressed forward with greater rapidity, ignoring the
lanes between the dunes, and clambering over the mounds themselves in
my eagerness to reach the lake before the complete closing down of
night.
At last I topped a particularly high ridge that felt solid to the feet;
and as I did so the wind came, hard and biting, against my face.
There, just below me, not fifty feet away, were rolling the great
waves, white-capped and roaring, pounding like vast sledges upon the
anvil of the sand. My entire being thrilled at the majestic sight, and
for the moment I forgot everything as I gazed away across those
restless, heaving waters, seemingly without limit, stretching forth
into the dim northward as far as the eye could reach, until water and
sky imperceptibly met and blended. Each advancing wave, racing toward
the beach, was a white-lipped messenger of mystery; and the vast
tumultuous sea, rolling in toward me out of that dark unknown, with its
deep voice of thunder and high-bursting spray, breathed the sublimest
lessons of the Infinite to my soul. It awed, impressed, silenced with
the sense of its solemn power. No dream of ocean grandeur had ever
approached the reality now outspread before me, as this vast inland sea
tossed and quivered to the lashing of the storm-wind that swept its
surface into fury.
To the left and right of where I stood motionless, curved the
shore-line, a seemingly endless succession of white shining sand-hills,
with the sloping shingle up which the huge breakers tossed and rolled
in continuous thunder and foam, rising, breaking, receding, chasing
each other in gigantic play. How savagely strong it all looked! what
uncontrollable majesty lived in every line of the scene! The very
suggestion of tremendous power in it was, to my imagination,
immeasurably increased by its unutterable loneliness, its seemingly
total absence of life; for not a fin rose above the surface, not a wing
brushed the air overhead. The sun, sinking slowly behind the rim of
sand, shot one golden-red ray far out into that tumbling waste, forming
a slender bridge of ever-changing light that seemed to rest suspended
upon the breaking crests of the waves it spanned. Then, gradually,
stealthily, silently, the denser curtain of the twilight drew closer
and closer, and my vista narrowed, as the shadows swept toward me like
black-robed ghosts.
I turned about reluctantly, to retrace my steps while the dim light yet
lingered. Some unseen angel of mercy it must have been that bade me
pause, and led me gently down the steep bank to the waters edge, where
the sharp spray lashed my cheeks. If this be not the cause, then I
know not why I went; or why, once being there, I should have turned to
the right, and rounded the edge of the little bay. Yet all of this I
did; and God knows that many a time since I have thanked Him for it
upon my knees.
I saw first the thing bobbing up and down behind a bare wave-washed
rock that lifted a hoary crown close beside the water's edge. A branch
from off some tree, I thought, until I had taken a half-dozen curious
steps nearer, and felt my heart bound as I knew it to be a boat. My
first thought, of course, was of hostile Indians; and I swept the
sand-hills anxiously for any other sign of human presence. The world
about me was soundless except for the ceaseless roaring of the waves,
and there was not even a leaf within my sight to flutter. I crept
forward cautiously, seeing no footprints on the smooth sand, until my
searching eyes rested upon a white hand, dangling, as if lifeless, over
the boat's gunwale. Forgetting everything else in the excitement of
this discovery, I sprang hastily forward and peered within the boat.
It was an awkward and rudely-formed water-craft, with neither mast nor
oars, yet of fair size, broad-beamed and seaworthy. In the forward
part lay the body of a woman; curled up and resting upon the boat's
bottom, the head buried upon the broad seat so that no face was
visible, with one hand hidden beneath, the other outstretched above the
rail. So huddled was her posture that I could distinguish few details
in the fading light; yet I noted that she wore a white upper garment,
and that her thick hair flowed in a dense black mass about her
shoulders.
For a moment I stood there helpless, believing I gazed upon death. She
either moved slightly, or the waves rocked the boat so as to somewhat
disturb her posture. That semblance of life sent my blood leaping once
more within my veins, and I leaned over and touched her cautiously.
"Oh, go away! Please go away!" she cried, not loudly, but with a
stress of utterance that caused me to start back half in terror. "I am
not afraid of you, but either take my soul or go away and leave me."
"For whom do you mistake me?" I asked, my hand closing now over hers.
"For another devil come out of the black night to torture me afresh!"
she answered, never once moving even to my touch. "Ah, what legions
there must be to send forth so many after the soul of one poor girl!
'T is not that I shrink from the end. Death! why, have I not died a
hundred deaths already? Yet do I trust the Christ and Mother Mary.
But why does the angel of their mercy hold back from me so long?"
Was she crazed, driven mad by some extremity of suffering at which I
could only guess? That oarless boat, beached amid the desolation of
sand and the waste of water, alone told a story to make the heart sick.
I hesitated, not knowing what I had best say. She lifted her head
slowly, and gazed at me. I caught one glimpse of a pale young face
framed in masses of black dishevelled hair, and saw large dark eyes
that seemed to glow with a strange fire.
"You,--you cannot be a devil also," she said, stammeringly. "You do
not look like those others,--are you a man?"
I bowed in silence, astounded by her words and appearance.
"Yet you are not of the garrison,--not of Dearborn. I have never seen
your face before. Yet you are surely a man, and white. Holy Mother!
can it indeed be that you have come to save me?"
"I am here to serve you by every means in my power," I answered
soberly, for the wildness of her speech almost frightened me. "God, I
truly think, must have led me to you."
Her wonderful eyes, questioning, anxious, doubtful, never once left my
face.
"Who are you? How came you here?"
"I am named John Wayland," I replied, striving to speak as simply as
might be, so that she would comprehend, "and form one of a small party
travelling overland from the east toward the Fort. We are encamped
yonder at the edge of the sand. I left the camp an hour ago, and
wandered hither that I might look out upon the waters of the Great
Lake; and here, through the strange providence of God, I have found
you."
She glanced apprehensively backward over her shoulder across the
darkened waters, and her slight form shook.
"Oh, please, take me away from it!" she cried, a note of undisguised
terror in her voice, and her hands held out toward me in a pitiful
gesture of appeal. "Oh, that horrible, cruel water! I have loved it
in the past, but now I hate it; how horribly it has tortured me! Take
me away, I beg,--anywhere, so that I can neither see nor hear it any
more. It has neither heart nor soul." And she hid her face behind the
streaming hair.
"You will trust me, then?" I asked, for I had little knowledge of
women. "You will go with me?"
She flung the clinging locks back from her eyes, with an odd, imperious
gesture which I thought most becoming, holding them in place with one
hand, while extending the other frankly toward me.
"Go with you? Yes," she replied, unhesitatingly. "I have known many
men such as you are, men of the border, and have always felt free to
trust them; they are far more true to helpless womanhood than many a
perfumed cavalier. You have a face that speaks of honor and manliness.
Yes, I will go with you gladly."
I was deeply impressed by her sudden calmness, her rapid repression of
that strange wildness of demeanor that had at first so marked her words
and manner. As I partially lifted her from the boat to the sand, she
staggered heavily, and would have fallen had I not instantly caught her
to me. For a single moment her dark eyes looked up confidingly into
mine, as she rested panting against my shoulder, and I could feel her
slender form tremble within my arms.
"You are ill--faint?" I questioned anxiously.
She drew back from me with all gentleness, and did not venture again to
attempt standing entirely without support.
"I am ashamed so to exhibit my weakness," she murmured. "I fear I am
greatly in need of food. What day is this?"
"The twelfth of August."
"And it was the night of the tenth when I drifted out of the mouth of
the river. Ever since then I have been drifting, the sport of the
winds and waves."
"Sit you down here, then," I commanded, now fully awakened to her
immediate need. "The sand is yet warm from the sun, and I have food
with me in my pockets."
CHAPTER VII
A CIRCLE IN THE SAND
I have since thought it almost providential that my food supply was so
limited; for, after first asking me if I had eaten all I required, she
fell upon it like a famished thing, and did not desist until all was
gone. A threatening bank of dark cloud was creeping slowly up the
northern sky as we were resting, but directly overhead the stars were
shining brilliantly, yielding me sufficient light for the study of her
face. She was certainly less than my own age by two or three years, a
girl barely rounding into the slender beauty of her earliest womanhood,
with hints of both in face and form. She was simply dressed, as,
indeed, might naturally be expected in a wilderness far removed from
marts of trade; but her clothing was of excellent texture, and became
her well in spite of its recent exposure, while a bit of rather
expensive lace at the throat and a flutter of gay ribbons about the
wrists told plainly that she did not disdain the usual adornments of
her sex. And this was quickly shown in another way. She had not yet
completed her frugal meal when her mind reverted to her personal
appearance, and she paused, with heightened color, to draw back her
loosened hair and fasten it in place with a knot of scarlet cord. It
was surely a winsome face that smiled up at me then.
"I feel almost guilty of robbery," she said, "in taking all this food,
which was no doubt intended for your own supper."
"Merely what chanced to be left of it," I answered heartily. "Had I so
much as dreamed this stretch of sand was to yield me such
companionship, I should have stinted myself more."
An expression of bewildered surprise crept into her eyes as I spoke.
"Surely you are not a mere _coureur de bois_, as I supposed from your
dress," she exclaimed. "Your expression is that of an educated
gentleman."
I smiled; for I was young enough to feel the force of her unconscious
flattery.
"I believe I can prove descent from an old and honorable race," I said;
"but it has been my fortune to be reared in the backwoods, and whatever
education has come to me I owe to the love and skill of my mother."
My frankness pleased her, and she made no attempt to disguise her
interest.
"I am so glad you told me," she said simply. "My mother died when I
was only ten, yet her memory has always been an inspiration. Are you a
Protestant?"
This unexpected question took me by surprise; yet I answered
unhesitatingly, "Yes."
"I was educated at the Ursuline Convent in Montreal. It was my
mother's dearest wish that I should take the vows of that order, but I
fear I am far too frivolous for so serious a life. I love happy things
too well, and the beautiful outside world of men and women. I ran away
from the Sisters, and then my father and I voyaged to this country,
where we might lead a freer life together."
"Here?" and I glanced questioningly about me into those darkening
shadows which were momentarily hemming us in more closely.
"To Fort Dearborn," she explained. "We came by boat through the
straits at the north; and 'twas a trip to remember. My father brought
out goods from Canada, and traded with the Indians. I have been in
their villages. Once I was a week alone with a tribe of Sacs near
Green Bay, and they called me the White Queen. I have met many famous
warriors of the Wyandots and Pottawattomies, and have seen them dance
at their council. Once I journeyed as far west as the Great River,
across leagues and leagues of prairie," and her face lighted up at the
remembrance. "Father said he thought I must be the first white woman
who had ever travelled so far inland. We have been at Dearborn for
nearly a year."
She rose to her feet, and swept her eyes, with some anxiety, around
upon dim mounds of sand that appeared more fantastic than ever in the
darkness.
"Had we not better be going?" she asked. "There is surely a storm
gathering yonder."
"Yes," I answered, for I had not been indifferent to the clouds
steadily banking up in the north. "Yet you have not told me your name,
and I should be most glad to know it."
The girl courtesied mockingly, as though half inclined to laugh at my
insistence.
"What is a name?" she exclaimed. "'Tis not that for which we greatly
care. Now I--I am simply Mademoiselle Antoinette,--at least, so most
of those I care for call me; and from now on, the very good friend of
Master John Wayland."
I was deeply conscious that I blushed at her words and manner; but with
it there arose an instant query in my mind: could this be the fair
Toinette whom De Croix sought so ardently? I greatly feared it; yet I
resolved I would not mention his name to her.
"It has a decided French sound," I stammered.
She laughed at my tone, with a quick shrug of her shoulders.
"And pray, why not, Monsieur? Have you such a prejudice against that
great people that you need speak of them with so glum a voice? Ah, but
if I must, then I shall endeavor to teach you a higher regard for us."
"That may not prove so hard a task," I hastened to assure her; "though
I was surprised,--you speak English with so pure an accent that I had
not dreamed you other than of my own race."
"My father was of English blood," she answered more gravely; "but I
fear you will find me quite of my mother's people, if ever we come to
know each other well. But hark! that was surely thunder! We have
loitered too long; the storm is about to break."
It was indeed upon us almost before she ceased speaking. A sudden rush
of wind sent my hat flying into the darkness, and whipped her long
black hair loose from its restraining knot. I had barely time to wrap
my hunting-jacket closely around her shoulders, when the rain came
dashing against our faces.
I drew her unresistingly around the edge of the nearest sand-pile; but
this supplied poor protection against the storm, the wind lashing the
fine grit into our faces, stinging us like bits of fire. I tried to
excavate some sort of cave that might afford us at least a partial
shelter; but the sand slid down almost as rapidly as I could dig it out
with my hands.
"Oh, let us press on!" she urged, laying her hand upon my arm, in
entreaty. "We shall become no wetter moving, and your camp, you said,
was only a short distance away."
"But are you strong enough to walk?" And as I leaned forward toward
her, a quick flash of vivid lightning, directly overhead, lit both our
faces. I marked she did not shrink, and no look of fear came into her
eyes.
"I am quite myself once more," she answered confidently. "It was
despair and loneliness that so disheartened me. I have never been
timid physically, and your presence has brought back the courage I
needed."
There was a natural frankness, a peculiar confidence, about this girl,
that robbed me of my usual diffidence; and as we struggled forward
through the dampening sand, her dress clinging about her and retarding
progress, I dared to slip one arm about her waist to help in bearing
her along. She accepted this timely aid in the spirit with which it
was offered, without so much as a word of protest; and the wind,
battering at our backs, pushed us forward.
"Oh, that troublesome hair!" she exclaimed, as the long tresses whipped
in front of our faces, blinding us both. "I have never before felt so
much like sacrificing it."
"I beg that you will not consider such an act now," I protested, aiding
her to reclaim the truants, "for as I saw it before the darkness fell,
your hair was surely worthy of preservation."
"You laugh at me; I know I must have been a far from pretty sight."
"Do you wish me to say with frankness what I thought of your appearance
under such disadvantages?"
She glanced at me almost archly, in the flash of lightning that rent
the sky.
"I am really afraid to answer yes,--yet perhaps I am brave enough to
venture it."
"I have never been at court, Mademoiselle, and so you may not consider
my judgment in such matters of much moment; but I thought you rarely
beautiful."
For a moment she did not attempt to speak, but I could distinctly feel
the heaving of her bosom as I held her hard against the assault of the
wind, and bent low hoping to catch an answer.
"You are sincere and honest," she said at last, slowly, and I felt that
the faint trace of mockery had utterly vanished from her soft voice.
"'T is manifest in your face and words. You speak not lightly, nor
with mere empty compliment, as would some gilded courtiers I have
known; and for that reason I do value your opinion."
"You are not angry at my presumption?"
"Angry?--I?" and she stopped and faced me, holding back her hair as she
did so. "I am a woman, Monsieur; and all women, even those of us
hidden here in the wilderness, like best those who admire them. I do
not know that I am as beautiful as you say, yet other men have often
said the same without being pressed for their opinion. No, I am not
angry,--I am even glad to know you think so."
"And you surely do know?" I insisted, with a courage strange to me.
"Yes," she answered, but her eyes fell before my eagerness; "you are
not one who has yet learned to lie, even to women. 'T is a relief to
know there are such men still in the world."
We had come to a full halt by this time.
"Do you have any idea where we may be?" she asked, peering anxiously
about, and perhaps glad to change the tone of our conversation. "I
cannot note a landmark of any kind. These sand-hills seem all alike."
"I believe we have kept to the southward, for we have merely drifted
with the storm; but I confess my sole guidance has been the direction
of the wind, as these sand-lanes are most confusing. If there were the
slightest shelter at hand, I should insist upon your waiting until the
rain was over."
"No, it is better to go on. I am now wet to the skin, and shall be
warmer moving than resting on this damp sand."
We must have been moving for an hour, scarcely speaking a word, for the
severe exertion required all our breath. The rain had ceased, and
stars began to glimmer amid the cloud-rifts overhead; but I knew now
that we were lost. She stopped suddenly, and sank down upon the sand.
"I am exhausted," she admitted, "and believe we are merely moving about
in a circle."
"Yes," I said, reluctantly; "we are wasting our strength to no purpose.
'T will be better to wait for daylight here."
It was a gloomy place, and the silence of those vast expanses of
desolate sand was overwhelming. It oppressed me strangely.
"Let me feel the touch of your hand," she said once. "It is so
desperately lonely. I have been on the wide prairie, at night and
alone; yet there is always some sound there upon which the mind may
rest. Here the stillness is like a weight."
Possibly I felt this depressing influence the more because of my long
forest training, where at least the moaning of limbs, fluttering of
leaves, or flitting of birds brings relief to the expectant senses;
while here all was absolute solitude, so profound that our breathing
itself was startling. The air above appeared empty and void; the earth
beneath, lifeless and dead. Although neither of us was cowardly of
heart, yet we instinctively drew closer together, and our eyes strained
anxiously over the black sand-ridges, now barely discernible through
the dense gloom. We tried to talk, but even that soon grew to be a
struggle, so heavily did the suspense rest upon our spirits, so
oppressed were we by imaginings of evil. I remember telling her my
simple story, gaining in return brief glimpses of her experiences in
Canada and the farther West. She even informed me that orders had been
received, the day before she became lost upon the lake, to abandon Fort
Dearborn; that an Indian runner--whom she named Winnemeg--had arrived
from General Hull at Detroit, bringing also news that Mackinac had
fallen.
"Doubtless your absence has greatly worried them also," I said.
"Oh, no; none of them knew my plight. Possibly some may miss me, but
they will naturally suppose I have been at Mr. Kinzie's house all this
time. I have been there often for weeks together, and they have
frequently urged me to take shelter with them. You see it is far safer
there than at the Fort, for even the most hostile Indians remain on
friendly terms with Mr. Kinzie and his family. He has been there so
many years, and is so just a man in his dealings with them. 'T is
really strange to see how he leaves his house unguarded, while the
garrison at the Fort is almost in a state of siege. It makes it hard
to realize how imminent is the danger. Yet they are terribly alarmed
at the Fort, and I fear with cause. Even Mr. Kinzie feels the
situation to be critical. There were fully three hundred Pottawattomie
warriors encamped without the Fort two days ago; and they were becoming
bold and impudent,--one chief even firing his gun in Captain Heald's
office, thinking to frighten him into furnishing them with liquor."
"But the Fort is strong?" I asked. "It is capable of resisting an
attack?"
"I should suppose so," she answered, hesitatingly; "but that is not a
matter upon which a girl may judge. I fear, however, all is not
harmony among its defenders. I know that Captain Heald and Ensign
Ronan do not agree, and I have heard bitter words spoken by other
officers of the garrison."
I thought she did not care to speak more about this matter, and we
drifted off upon other topics, until I felt her head sink slowly down
upon my shoulder, and knew she slept. I sat there still, pillowing her
tenderly upon my arm, when the gray light of the dawn stole slowly
toward us across the ridges of sand and revealed the upturned face.
CHAPTER VIII
TWO MEN AND A MAID
The emotion I felt was new and strange to me; for though I had known
little of young women, yet as I looked upon her in that dim light of
dawn I found myself wondering if I already loved this strange girl.
Fair as her face certainly was, its beauty rendered even more striking
by the pallor of her late exposure and the blackness of her dishevelled
hair, it was her frankness and confidence which most appealed to me.
She had held all my thoughts through the long hours of watchfulness as
I sat there quietly, feeling the rise and fall of her regular
breathing, and thrilled by the unconscious caress of stray tresses as
they were blown against my cheek. How she trusted me, stranger though
I was! Yet it was through no lack of knowledge of the great world of
men, for this young girl had known court gallants and rough soldiery,
soft-spoken courtiers and boastful men-at-arms. So the night through I
dreamed of what might be; and when the light finally came slowly
reddening the eastern sky, I feasted my eyes unchecked upon that sweet
upturned face, and made a rash vow that I would win her heart.
I was still mirroring her image in my memory, forgetful of all
else,--the broad white brow, the long dark lashes resting in such
delicate tracery against the smooth velvet of the cheek now slightly
flushed, the witching pink of the ear, the softly parted lips between
which gleamed the small and regular teeth of ivory, the round white
throat swelling ever so slightly to her breathing,--when a sudden shout
of surprised recognition aroused me from my reverie, and I looked up to
see Jordan topping the sand-bank in our front, and waving his hand to
some one beneath him and out of sight.
"See here, De Croix!" he cried, excitedly, "the prodigal has had good
cause to lag behind. He has found the lost fairy of this wilderness."
Before I could relieve myself of my burden,--for the mockery of his
words angered me,--the Frenchman appeared at his side, and glanced down
where his companion's finger pointed. For a moment he gazed; then he
murmured a sharp French oath, and strode heavily down the sand-bank.
There was a look in his face that caused me to lay the girl's head back
upon the sand and rise hastily. The sudden movement awoke her, and her
dark eyes looked up in startled confusion. By this time I had taken a
quick step forward, and faced De Croix.
"This lady is under my protection," I said, a bit hotly, not relishing
the manner of his approach, "and any disrespect from either of you will
be unwarranted."
He paused, evidently surprised at my bold front, and his lip curled
contemptuously.
"Ah, my young game-cock!" he ejaculated, surveying me curiously. "So
you have spurs, and think you can use them? Well, I have no quarrel
with you, but perchance I may have more reason to be the protector of
this young lady than you suppose. Stand aside, Monsieur."
She had risen from the sand, and now stood erect beside me. I saw
Jordan grinning in great enjoyment of the scene, and that De Croix's
eyes were full of anger; but I would not stir. In my heart I felt a
dull pain at his words, a fear that they might prove too true; but I
remained where I was, determined to take no step aside until she
herself should judge between us.
"Will you stand back, Monsieur?" he said, haughtily, dropping his hand
upon the hilt of his rapier, "or shall I show you how a gentleman of
France deals with such impertinence?"
If he thought to affright me with his bravado, he reckoned ill of my
nature, for I have ever driven badly; my blood seems slow to heat,
though it was warm enough now.
"If the lady wishes it, you may pass," I answered shortly, my eyes
never leaving his face. "Otherwise, if you take so much as another
step I will crush every bone in your body."
He saw I meant it, but there was no cowardice in him; and the steel had
already flashed in the sunlight to make good his threat, when she
touched me gently upon the shoulder.
"I beg you do not fight," she urged. "I am not worthy, and 't is all
unneeded. Captain de Croix," and she swept him a curtsey which had the
grace of a drawing-room in it, "'t is indeed most strange that we
should meet again in such a spot as this. No contrast could be greater
than the memory of our last parting. Yet is there any cause for
quarrel because this young gentleman has preserved my life?"
De Croix hesitated, standing half-poised for attack, even his glib
tongue and ready wit failing as she thus calmly questioned him.
Indeed, as I later learned, there was that of witchery about this young
girl which held him at bay more effectually than if she had been a
princess of the royal blood,--a something that laughed his studied art
to scorn. She noted now his hesitancy, and smiled slightly at the
evidence of her power.
"Well, Monsieur, 'tis not often that your lips fail of words," she
continued, archly. "Why is it I am made the subject of your quarrel?"
The slight sarcastic sting in her voice aroused him.
"By all the saints, Toinette!" he exclaimed, striving to appear at his
ease, "this seems a poor greeting for one who has followed you through
leagues of forest and across oceans of sand, hopeful at the least to
gain a smile of welcome from your lips. Know you not I am here, at the
very end of the world, for you?"
"I think it not altogether unlikely," she replied with calmness. "You
have ever been of a nature to do strange things, yet it has always been
of your own sweet will. Surely, Monsieur, I did never bid you come, or
promise you a greeting."
"No," he admitted regretfully, "'t is, alas, true,"; and his eyes
seemed to regain something of their old audacity. "But there was that
about our parting,--you recall it, Toinette, in the shadow of the
castle wall?--which did afford me hope. No one so fair as you can be
without heart."
She laughed softly, as though his words recalled memories of other
days, pressing back her hair within its ribbon.
"Such art of compliment seems more in place at Montreal than here.
This is a land of deeds, not words, Monsieur. Yet, even though I
confess your conclusion partially true, what cause does it yield why
you should seek a quarrel with my good friend, John Wayland?"
"You know him, then?" he asked, in quick astonishment.
"Know him! Do you think I should be here otherwise? Fie, Captain de
Croix, that you, the very flower of the French court, should express so
poor a thought of one you profess to respect so highly!"
He looked from one to the other of us, scarce knowing whether she were
laughing at him or not.
"_Sacre_!" he exclaimed at last. "I believe it not, Mademoiselle. The
boy would have boasted of such an acquaintance long before this. You
know him, you say,--for how long?"
"Since yester even, if you must know. But he has a face, Monsieur, a
face frank and honest, not like that of a man long trained at courts to
deceive. 'T is for that I trust him, and have called him friend."
"You may rue the day."
"No, Captain de Croix," she exclaimed, proudly. "I know the
frontiersmen of my father's blood. They are brave men, and true of
heart. This John Wayland is of that race." And she rested one hand
lightly upon my arm.
The motion, simple as it was, angered him.
"You ask why I sought quarrel," he said sternly. "'T was because I
suspected this uncouth hunter had wronged you. Now I understand 't was
of your own choice. I wish you joy, Mademoiselle, of your new
conquest."
I felt the girl's slight form straighten, and saw his bold eyes sink
beneath the flame of her look.
"Captain de Croix," and every sentence stung like the lash of a whip,
"those are cowardly words, unworthy a French gentleman and soldier.
Did you leave all your courtesy behind in Montreal, or dream that in
this wilderness I should cringe to any words you might speak? You wish
the truth; you shall have it. Three days ago, through an accident, I
drifted, in an oarless boat, out from the river-mouth at Fort Dearborn
to the open lake. None knew of my predicament. A storm blew me
helpless to the southward, and after hours of exposure to danger, and
great mental anguish, I was driven ashore amid the desolation of this
sand. This comrade of yours found me scarce alive, ministered to my
sore need, protected me through the hours of the night, stood but now
between me and your ribaldry, counting his life but little beside the
reputation of a woman. He may not wear the latest Paris fashions,
Monsieur, but he has proved himself a man."
"I meant not all I said, Toinette," he hastened to explain. "You will
forgive, I know, for I was sorely hurt to find that some one else had
done the duty that was plainly mine. Surely no rude backwoodsman is to
come between us now?"
She glanced from the one to the other, with true French coquetry.
"Faith, I cannot tell, Monsieur," she said, gayly; "stranger things
have happened, and 't is not altogether fine clothes that win the
hearts of maidens on this far frontier. We learn soon to love
strength, and the manly traits of the border. On my word, Monsieur,
this John Wayland seems to have rare powers of body; I imagine he might
even have crushed you, as he said."
"Think you so?" he asked, eying me curiously. "Yet 't is not always as
it looks, Mademoiselle."
It came so quickly as to startle me. I was wondering at the smile that
curled his lips, when he sprang upon me, casting his arms around my
waist, and twining one leg about mine. The shock of this sudden and
unexpected onset took me completely by surprise, and I gave back
sharply, scarce realizing his purpose, till he had the under-hold, and
sought to lift me for a throw. 'T was my weight alone that saved me,
together with the rare good fortune that I had been leaning upon my gun.
As the breath came back to me, we locked grimly in a fierce struggle
for the mastery. I had felt the straining grip of strong arms before,
but De Croix surprised me,--he was like steel, quick of motion as a
wildcat, with many a cunning French wrestling trick that tried me
sorely. I heard a quick exclamation of surprise from the girl, a shout
of delighted approval from Jordan, and then there was no sound but the
harsh trampling of our feet and the heavy breathing. De Croix's effort
was to lift me to his hip for a throw; mine, to press him backward by
bodily strength. Both of us were sadly hindered by the sliding sand on
which we strove. Twice I thought I had him, when my footing failed;
and once he held me fairly uplifted from the ground, yet could not make
the toss. 'T was a wild grapple, for when we had exhausted all the
tricks we knew, it came to be a sheer test of physical endurance.
Then, for the first time, I felt myself the master,--though he was a
man, that gay French dandy, and never did my ribs crack under the
pressure of a stronger hand. But I slowly pressed him back, inch by
inch, struggling like a demon to the last, until I forced his shoulders
to the sand.
For a moment he lay there, panting heavily; then the old frank and easy
smile came upon his lips.
"Your hand, monsieur," he said; "that is, if it yet retains sufficient
strength to lift me."
Upon his feet he brushed the sand from out his long hair, and bowed
gallantly.
"I have done my very best, Mademoiselle. 'Tis defeat, but not
disgrace, for I have made your giant puff to win. May I not hope it
has won me restoration to your good graces?"
CHAPTER IX
IN SIGHT OF THE FLAG
It would have been impossible not to respond to his humor and
good-nature, even had the girl been desirous of doing otherwise. From
the first I felt that she liked this reckless courtier, whose easy
words and actions made me realize more deeply than ever my own
heaviness of thought and wit.
As he stood there now, bowing low before her, his clothing awry and his
long hair in disorder from our fierce contest, she smiled upon him
graciously, and extended a hand that he was prompt enough to accept and
hold.
"Surely," she said mockingly, "no maid, even in the glorious days of
chivalry, had ever more heroic figures to do battle for her honor. I
accept the _amende_, Monsieur, and henceforth enroll you as knight at
my court. Upon my word," and she looked about at the desolate
sand-heaps surrounding us, "'tis not much to boast of here; nor, in
truth, is Dearborn greatly better."
She paused, drawing her hand gently from his grasp, and holding it out
toward me.
"Yet, Captain," she continued, glancing at him archly over her
shoulder, "I have likewise another knight, this wood ranger, who hath
also won my deep regard and gratitude."
De Croix scowled, and twisted his short mustache nervously.
"You put a thorn beside every rose," he muttered. "'T was your way in
Montreal."
"A few hundred miles of travel do not greatly change one's nature.
Either at Dearborn or Montreal, I am still Toinette. But, Messieurs, I
have been told of a camp quite close at hand,--and yet you leave me
here in the sand to famish while you quarrel."
The tone of her voice, while still full of coquetry, was urgent, and I
think we both noted for the first time how white of face she was, and
how wearily her eyes shone. The Frenchman, ever ready in such
courtesies, was the first to respond by word and act.
"You are faint, Toinette," he cried, instantly forgetful of everything
else, and springing forward to give her the aid of his arm. "I beg you
lean upon me. I have been blind not to note your weakness before. 'T
is indeed not a long walk to our camp from here,--yet, on my life, I
know nothing of where it lies. Jordan," he added, speaking as if he
were in command, "lead back along the path we came. _Sacre_! the old
bear was gruff enough over the delay of our search; he will be savage
now."
I know not how Jordan ever found his way back, for the sliding sand had
already obliterated all evidences of former travel; but I walked
sullenly beside him, leaving De Croix to minister to the needs of the
girl as best he might. I felt so dull beside his ready tongue that, in
spite of my real liking for the fellow, his presence angered me. 'T is
strange we should ever envy in others what we do not ourselves possess,
ignoring those traits of character we have which they no less desire.
So to me then it seemed altogether useless to contend for the heart of
a woman,--such a woman, at least, as this laughing Toinette,--against
the practised wiles of so gay and debonair a cavalier. I steeled my
ears to the light badinage they continued to indulge in, and ploughed
on through the heavy sand at Jordan's heels, in no mood for converse
with any one.
We came upon the camp suddenly, and discovered Captain Wells pacing
back and forth, his stern face dark with annoyance. At sight of me,
his passion burst all restraint.
"By God, sir!" he ejaculated, "if you were a soldier of mine, I would
teach you what it meant to put us to such a wait as this! Know you
not, Master Wayland, that the lives of helpless women and children may
depend upon our haste? And you hold us here in idleness while you
wander along the lake-shore like a moonstruck boy!"
Before I could answer these harsh words, the girl stepped lightly to my
side, and standing there, her hand upon my arm, smiled back into his
angry eyes. I do not think he had even perceived her presence until
that moment; for he stopped perplexed.
"And am I not worth the saving, Monsieur le Capitaine," she questioned,
pouting her lips, "that you should blame him so harshly for having
stopped to rescue me?"
His harsh glance of angry resentment softened as he gazed upon her.
"Ah! was that it, then?" he asked, in gentler tones. "But who are you?
Surely you are not unattended in this wilderness?"
"I am from Fort Dearborn," she answered, "and though only a girl,
Monsieur, I have penetrated to the great West even farther than has
Captain Wells."
"How know you my name?"
"Mrs. Heald told me she believed you would surely come when you learned
of our plight at the Fort,--it was for that she despatched the man
Burns with the message,--and she described you so perfectly that I knew
at once who you must be. There are not so many white men travelling
toward Dearborn now as to make mistake easy."
"And the Fort?" he asked, anxiously. "Is it still garrisoned, or have
we come too late?"
"It was safely held two days ago," she answered, "although hundreds of
savages in war-paint were then encamped without, and holding powwow
before the gate. No attack had then been made, yet the officers talked
among themselves of evacuating."
For a moment the stern soldier seemed to have forgotten her, his eyes
fastened upon the western horizon.
"The fools!" he muttered to himself, seemingly unconscious that he
spoke aloud; "yet if I can but reach there in time, my knowledge of
Indian nature may accomplish much."
He turned quickly, with a sharp glance over his military force.
"We delay no longer. Jordan, do you give this lady your horse for
to-day's journey, and go you forward on foot with the Miamis. Watch
them closely, and mark well everything in your front as you move."
"But, Captain Wells," she insisted, as he turned away, "I am
exceedingly hungry, and doubt not this youth would also be much the
better for a bit of food."
"It will have to be eaten as you travel, then," he answered, not
unkindly, but with all his thought now fixed on other things, "for our
duty is to reach Dearborn at the first moment, and save those prisoned
there from death, and worse."
I shall always remember each detail of that day's march, though I saw
but little of Toinette save in stolen glances backward, Wells keeping
me close at his side, while De Croix, as debonair as ever, was her
constant shadow, ministering assiduously to her wants and cheering her
journey with agreeable discourse. I heard much of their chatter,
earnestly as I sought to remain deaf to it. To this end Wells aided me
but little, for he rode forward in stern silence, completely absorbed
in his own thoughts.
During the first few hours we passed through a dull desolation of
desert sand, the queerly shaped hills on either side scarcely breaking
the dead monotony, although they often hid from our sight our advance
scouts, and made us feel isolated and alone. Once or twice I imagined
I heard the deepening roar of waves bursting upon the shore-line to our
right, but could gain no glimpse of blue water through those obscuring
dunes. We were following a well-worn Indian trail, beaten hard by many
a moccasined foot; and at last it ran from out the coarser sand and
skirted along the western beach, almost at the edge of the waves. 'T
was a most delightful change from the cramped and narrowed vision that
had been ours so long. Our faces were now set almost directly
northward; but I could not withdraw my eyes from the noble expanse of
water heaving and tumbling in the dazzling sunlight. Indeed, there was
little else about our course to attract attention; the shore in front
lay clear and unbroken, bearing a sameness of outline that wearied the
vision; each breaking wave was but the type of others that had gone
before, and each jutting point of land was the picture of the next to
follow. To our left, there extended, parallel to our course of march,
a narrow ridge of white and firmly beaten sand, as regular in
appearance as the ramparts of a fort. Here and there a break occurred
where in some spring flood a sudden, rush of water had burst through.
Glancing curiously down these narrow aisles, as we rode steadily
onward, I caught fleeting glimpses of level prairie land, green with
waving grasses, apparently stretching to the western horizon bare of
tree or shrub. At first, I took this to be water also; until I
realized that I looked out upon the great plains of the Illinois.
The Captain was always chary of speech; now he rode onward with so
stern a face, that presently I spoke in inquiry.
"You are silent, Captain Wells," I said. "One would expect some
rejoicing, as we draw so close to the end of our long journey."
He glanced aside at me.
"Wayland," he said slowly, "I have been upon the frontier all my life,
and have, as you know, lived in Indian camps and shared in many a
savage campaign. I am too old a man, too tried a soldier, ever to
hesitate to acknowledge fear; but I tell you now, I believe we are
riding northward to our deaths."
I had known, since first leaving the Maumee, that danger haunted the
expedition; yet these solemn words came as a surprise.
"Why think you thus?" I asked, with newly aroused anxiety, my thoughts
more with the girl behind than with myself. "Mademoiselle Toinette
tells me the Fort is strong and capable of defence, and surely we are
already nearly there."
"The young girl yonder with De Croix? It may be so, if it also be well
provisioned for a long siege, as it is scarce likely any rescue party
will be despatched so far westward. If I mistake not, Hull will have
no men to spare. Yet I like not the action of the savages about us.
'T is not in Indian nature to hold off, as these are doing, and permit
reinforcements to go by, when they might be halted so easily. 'T would
ease my mind not a little were we attacked."
"Attacked? by whom?"
He faced me with undisguised surprise, a sarcastic smile curling his
grim mouth. His hand swept along the western sky-line.
"By those red spies hiding behind that ridge of sand," he answered
shortly. "Boy, where are your eyes not to have seen that every step we
have taken this day has been but by sufferance of the Pottawattomies?
Not for an hour since leaving camp have we marched out of shot from
their guns; it means treachery, yet I can scarce tell where or how. If
they have spared us this long, there is some good Indian reason for it."
I glanced along that apparently desolate sandbank, barely a hundred
feet away, feeling a thrill of uneasiness sweep over me at the
revelation of his words. My eyes saw nothing strange nor suspicious;
but I could not doubt his well-trained instinct.
"It makes my flesh creep," I admitted; "yet surely the others do not
know. Hear how the Frenchman chatters in our rear!"
"The young fool!" he muttered, as the sound of a light laugh reached
us; "it will prove no jest, ere we are out of this again. Yet,
Wayland," and his voice grew stronger, "the red devils must indeed mean
to pass us free,--for there is Fort Dearborn, and, unless my sight
deceive me, the flag is up."
I lifted my eyes eagerly, and gazed northward where his finger pointed.
CHAPTER X
A LANE OF PERIL
We passed a group of young cottonwoods, the only trees I had noted
along the shore; and a few hundred feet ahead of us, the ridge of sand,
which had obscured our westward view so long, gradually fell away,
permitting the eye to sweep across the wide expanse of level plain
until halted by a distant row of stunted trees that seemed to line a
stream of some importance. As Captain Wells spoke, my glance, which
had been fixed upon these natural objects, was instantly attracted by a
strange scene of human activity that unfolded to the north and west.
The land before us lay flat and low, with the golden sun of the early
afternoon resting hot upon it, revealing each detail in an animated
panorama wherein barbarism and civilization each bore a conspicuous
part. The Fort was fully a mile and a half distant, and I could
distinguish little of its outward appearance, save that it seemed low
and solidly built, like a stockade of logs set upon end in the ground.
It appeared gloomy, grim, inhospitable, with its gates tightly closed,
and no sign of life anywhere along its dull walls; yet my heart was
thrilled at catching the bright colors of the garrison flag as the
western breeze rippled its folds against the blue background of the sky.
But it was outside those log barriers that our eyes encountered scenes
of the greatest interest,--a mingling of tawdry decoration and wild
savagery, where fierce denizens of forest and plain made their barbaric
show.
No finer stage for such a spectacle could well be conceived. Upon one
side stretched the great waste of waters; on the other, level plains,
composed of yellow sand quickly merging into the green and brown of the
prairie, while, scattered over its surface, from the near lake-shore to
the distant river, were figures constantly moving, decked in gay
feathers and daubed with war-paint. Westward from the Fort, toward the
point where a branch of the main river appeared to emerge from the
southward, stood a large village of tepees, the sun shining yellow and
white on their deerskin coverings and making an odd glow in the smoke
that curled above the lodge-poles. From where we rode it looked to be
a big encampment, alive with figures of Indians. My companion and I
both noted, and spoke together of the fact, that they all seemed
braves; squaws there may have been, but of children there were none
visible.
Populous as this camp appeared, the plain stretching between it and us
was literally swarming with savages. A few were mounted upon horses,
riding here and there with upraised spears, their hair flying wildly
behind them, their war-bonnets gorgeous in the sunshine. By far the
greater number, however, were idling about on foot, stalwart, swarthy
fellows, with long black locks, and half-naked painted forms. One
group was listening to the words of a chief; others were playing at la
crosse; but most of them were merely moving restlessly here and there,
not unlike caged wild animals, eager to be free.
I heard Captain Wells draw in his breath sharply.
"As I live!" he ejaculated, "there can be scarce less than a thousand
warriors in that band,--and no trading-party either, if I know aught of
Indian signs."
Before I could answer him, even had I any word to say, a chief broke
away from the gathering mass in our immediate front, and rode headlong
down upon us, bringing his horse to its haunches barely a yard away.
He was a large, sinewy man, his face rendered hideous by streaks of
yellow and red, wearing a high crown of eagle feathers, with a scalp of
long light-colored hair, still bloody, dangling at his belt. For a
moment he and Captain Wells looked sternly into each other's eyes
without speaking. Then the savage broke silence.
"Wau-mee-nuk great brave," he said, sullenly, in broken English, using
Wells's Indian name, "but him big fool come here now. Why not stay
with Big Turtle? He tell him Pottawattomie not want him here."
"Big Turtle did tell me," was the quiet answer, "that the
Pottawattomies had made bad medicine and were dancing the war-dance in
their villages; but I have met Pottawattomies before, and am not
afraid. They have been my friends, and I have done them no wrong."
He looked intently at the disguised face before him, seeking to trace
the features. "You are Topenebe," he said at last.
"True," returned the chief, with proud gravity. "You serve me well
once; for that I come now, and tell you go back,--there is trouble
here."
Wells's face darkened.
"Have I ever been a coward," he asked indignantly, "that I should turn
and run for a threat? Think you, Topenebe, that I fear to sing the
death-song? I have lived in the woods, and gone forth with your
war-parties; am I less a warrior, now that I fight with the people of
my own race? Go take your warning to some squaw; we ride straight on
to Dearborn, even though we have to fight our way."
The Indian glanced, as Wells pointed, toward the Fort, and sneered.
"All old women in there," he exclaimed derisively. "Say this to-day,
and that to-morrow. They shut the gates now to keep Indian on outside.
No trade, no rum, no powder,--just lies. But they no keep back our
young men much longer." His face grew dark, and his eyes angry.
"Why you bring them?" he asked hotly, designating our escort of Miamis,
already shrinking from the taunts of the gathering braves. "They dog
Indians, bad medicine; they run fast when Pottawattomie come."
"Don't be so certain about that, Topenebe," retorted Wells, shortly.
"But we cannot stop longer here; make way, that we may pass along,
Jordan, push on with your advance through that rabble there."
The Indian chief drew his horse back beside the trail, and we moved
slowly forward, our Indian guides slightly in advance, and exhibiting
in every action the disinclination they felt to proceed, and their
constantly increasing fear of the wild horde that now resorted to every
means in their power, short of actual violence, to retard their
progress. As they closed in more closely around us, taunting the
Miamis unmercifully, even shaking tomahawks in their faces, with fierce
eyes full of hatred and murder, I drew back my horse until I ranged up
beside Mademoiselle Antoinette, and thus we rode steadily onward
through that frenzied, howling mass, the girl between De Croix and me,
who thus protected her on either side.
It was truly a weary ride, full of insult, and perchance of grave peril
had we faced that naked mob less resolutely. Doubtless the chiefs
restrained their young men somewhat, but more than once we came within
a hair's-breadth of serious conflict. They hemmed us in so tightly
that we could only walk our horses; and twice they pressed upon Jordan
so hard as to halt him altogether, bunching his cowardly Miamis, and
even striking them contemptuously with their blackened sticks. The
second time this occurred, Captain Wells rode forward to force a path,
driving the spurs into his horse so quickly that the startled animal
fairly cut a lane through the crowded savages before they could draw
back. Naught restrained them from open violence but their knowledge of
that stern-faced swarthy soldier who fronted them with such dauntless
courage. Hundreds in that swarm had seen him before, when, as the
adopted son of a great war-chief of the Miamis he had been at their
side in many a wild foray along the border.
"Wau-mee-nuk, the white chief," passed from lip to lip; and sullenly,
slowly, reluctantly, the frenzied red circle fell back, as he pressed
his rearing horse full against them.
How hideous their painted faces looked, as we slowly pushed past them,
their lips shrieking insult, their sinewy hands gripping at our
stirrups, their brandished weapons shaken in our faces. With firm-set
lips and watchful eyes I rode, bent well forward, so as best to protect
the girl, my rifle held across my saddle pommel. Twice some vengeful
arm struck me a savage blow, and once a young devil with long matted
hair hanging over his fierce eyes thrust a sharpened stake viciously at
the girl's face. I struck with quick-clinched hand, and he reeled back
into the mass with a sharp cry of pain. My eyes caught the sudden
dazzle, as De Croix whipped out his rapier.
"Not that, Monsieur!" I cried hastily, across her horse's neck. "Use
the hilt, not the blade, unless you wish to die."
He heard me above the clamor, and with a quick turn of the weapon
struck fiercely at a scowling brave who grasped at his horse's rein.
He smiled pleasantly across at me, his fingers twisting his small
mustache.
"'T is doubtless good advice, friend Wayland," he said, carelessly,
"but these copper-colored devils are indeed most annoying upon this
side, and I may lose my temper ere we reach the gate."
"For the sake of her who rides between us, I beg that you hold in hard,
Monsieur," I answered. "'T would be overmuch to pay, I imagine, for a
hot brain."
I glanced at her as I spoke, scarcely conscious even then that I had
removed my eyes from the threatening mob that pressed me, though I know
I must have done so, for I retain the picture of her yet. She rode
facing me, although her saddle was of the old army type with merely a
folded blanket to soften its sharp contours, and her foot could barely
find firm support within the narrow strap above the wooden stirrup.
She sat erect and easily, swaying gently to the slow step of the horse.
Her face was pale, but there was no evidence of timidity in her dark
eyes, and she smiled at me as our glances met.
"You are surely a brave girl, Mademoiselle!" I exclaimed, unable to
restrain my admiration. "'T is a scene to try any nerves."
"Yet almost worth the danger," she returned softly, "to realize what
men can be in such stress of need. You are the real--Beware of that
half-breed, Monsieur!"
Her last words were a quick warning, yet my eyes were already upon the
fellow, and as he dodged down, knife in hand, to aim a vicious lunge at
the forward leg of her horse, I brought the stock of my rifle crunching
against his shoulder. The next instant we had passed over his naked
body as he lay gasping in the trail.
"See!" she cried, with eagerness. "The gates are opened!"
We were possibly a hundred yards from the southern front of the
stockade, when I glanced forward and saw the level ground between a
seething mass of savage forms, so densely wedged together as to block
further progress. I could see hundreds of brown sinewy arms uplifted
from a sea of faces to brandish weapons of every description, and
marked how the Miamis cowered like whipped curs behind the protection
of Wells's horse, while close beside him stood Jordan, erect and silent
as it on parade, a rifle grasped in his hands, his head bare, a great
welt showing redly across his white forehead.
A little party, hardly more than twenty infantry-men, marched steadily
out from the open gateway of the Fort. The first file bore bayonets
fixed upon their guns, and the naked savages fell slowly back before
the polished steel. It was smartly done, and it thrilled my blood to
note with what silent determination that small band of disciplined men
pressed their way onward, passing through the threatening mass of
redskins as indifferently as if they had been forest trees. A young,
smooth-faced fellow, wearing a new officer's uniform, led them, sword
in hand, a smile of light contempt upon his lips.
"Clear the space wider, Campbell!" he said sternly, to the big corporal
at his side. "Swing your files to left and right, and push the rabble
out of the way."
They did it with the butts of their guns, laughing at the brandished
knives and tomahawks and the fierce painted faces that scowled at them,
paying no apparent heed to the taunts and insults showered from every
side. There were some stones thrown, a few blows were struck, but no
rifle-shot broke the brief struggle. The young officer strode forward
down the open space, and fronted our advance.
"I presume this is Captain Wells, from Fort Wayne?" he said, lifting
his cap as he spoke.
"It is," was the reply, "and I am very glad to find that you still hold
Fort Dearborn."
The other's frank and boyish face darkened slightly, as if at an
unpleasant memory.
"'T is no fault of some," he muttered hastily; then he checked himself.
"We are glad to greet you, Captain Wells," he added, in a more formal
tone, glancing about upon us, "and your party. I am Ensign Ronan, of
the garrison; and if you will kindly pass between my guard lines, you
will find Captain Heald awaiting you within."
Thus we rode freely forward, with the guarding soldiery on either side
of us, their faces to the howling savages; we passed in at the great
southern gate, and halted amid the buildings of old Fort Dearborn.
CHAPTER XI
OLD FORT DEARBORN
It makes my old head dizzy to recall the events of that hour across the
years that have intervened. Possibly I, as I write these words, am the
only person living who has looked upon that old stockade and taken part
in its tragic history. What a marvellous change has less than a century
witnessed! Once the outermost guard of our western frontier, it is now
the site of one of the great cities of two continents. To me, who have
seen these events and changes, it possesses more than the wonderment of a
dream.
That day, as I rode forward, I saw but little of the Fort's formation,
for my eyes and thoughts were so filled with those frenzied savages that
hemmed us about, and the cool deployment of the few troops that guarded
our passage-way, that everything else made but a dim impression. Yet the
glimpse I obtained, even at that exciting moment, together with the
subsequent experiences that came to me, have indelibly impressed each
detail of the rude Fort upon my memory.
It stands before me now, clear-cut and prominent, its outlines distinct
against the background of blue water or green plains. In that early day
the Fort was a fairly typical outpost of the border, like scores of
others scattered at wide and irregular intervals from the Carolina
mountains upon the south to the joining of the great lakes at the north,
forming one link in the thin chain of frontier fortifications against
Indian treachery and outbreak. It bore the distinction, among the
others, of being the most advanced and exposed of all, and its small
garrison was utterly isolated and alone, a forlorn hope in the heart of
the great wilderness.
The Fort had been erected nine years before our arrival, upon the
southern bank of a dull and sluggish stream, emptying into the Great Lake
from the west, and known to the earlier French explorers as the river
Chicagou. The spot selected was nearly that where an old-time French
trading-post had stood, although the latter had been deserted for so long
that no remnant of it yet lingered when the Americans first took
possession, and its site remained only as a vague tradition of those
Indian tribes whose representatives often visited these waters.
The earliest force despatched by the government to this frontier post
erected here a simple stockade of logs. These were placed standing on
end, firmly planted in the ground and extending upward some fifteen feet,
their tops sharpened as an additional protection against savage
assailants. This log stockade was built quite solid, save for one main
entrance, facing to the south and secured by a heavy, iron-studded gate,
with a subterranean or sunken passage leading out beneath the north wall
to the river, protected by a door which could be raised only from within.
The enclosure thus formed was sufficiently large to contain a somewhat
restricted parade-ground, about which were grouped the necessary
buildings of the garrison, the quarters for the officers, the soldiers'
barracks, the commandant's office, the guardhouse, and the magazine.
These rude structures were built in frontier style, of cleaved logs, and
with one exception were but a single story in height, so that their roofs
of rived shingles were well below the protection of the palisade of logs.
Besides these interior buildings, two block-houses were built, each
constructed so that the second story overhung the first, one of them,
standing at the southeast and one at the northwest corner of the
palisaded walls. A narrow wooden support, or walk, accessible only from
one or the other of these block-houses, enabled its defenders to stand
within the enclosure and look out over the row of sharpened logs.
At the time of our arrival the protective armament of this primitive
Fort, besides the small-arms of the garrison, consisted of three pieces
of light artillery, brass six-pounders of antique pattern, relics of the
Revolution. Outside the Fort enclosure, only a few yards to the west
along the river bank, stood the agency building, or, as it was often
termed, "goods factory," built for purposes of trading with the Indians,
so that it would not be necessary to open the Fort to them. This agency
building was a rather large two-story log house, not erected for any
purposes of defence. Along the southern side of the stream, in both
directions, the soldiers had excavated numerous root-houses, or cellars,
in which to store the products of their summer gardens,--these
excavations fairly honeycombing the bank.
Such was Fort Dearborn in August of the fatal year 1812. It stood ugly,
rude, isolated, afar from any help in time of need. Its nearest military
neighbor lay directly across the waters of the Great Lake, where a small
detachment of troops, scarcely less isolated than itself, garrisoned a
similar stockade near the mouth of the river Saint Joseph. To the
westward, the vast plains, as yet scarce pressed by the adventurous feet
of white explorers, faded away into a mysterious unknown country, roamed
over by countless tribes of savages; to the northward lay an unbroken
wilderness for hundreds of leagues, save for a few scattered traders at
Green Bay, until the military outpost at Mackinac was reached; to the
eastward rolled the waters of the Great Lake, storm-swept and unvexed by
keel of ship, an almost unsurpassable barrier, along whose shore
adventurous voyagers crept in log and bark canoes; while to the southward
alternating prairie and timber-land stretched away for unnumbered leagues
the Indian hunting-grounds,--broken only by a few scattered settlements
of French half-breeds.
From the walls of the Fort the eye ranged over a dull and monotonous
landscape, nowhere broken by signs of advancing civilization or even of
human presence. A few hundred yards to the east the waves of Lake
Michigan broke upon the wide, sandy beach, whence the tossing waters
stretched away in tumultuous loneliness to their blending with the
distant sky. Southward, along the shore of the lake, the nearly level
plain, brown and sun-parched, soon merged into rounded heaps of
wind-drifted sand, barely diversified by a few straggling groups of
cottonwoods. To the westward extended the boundless prairie, flat and
bare as a floor, except where the southern fork of the little river cut
its way through the soft loam, and gave rise to a scrubby growth of
cottonwood and willow; while northward, across the main body of the
river, the land appeared more rugged and broken, and somewhat heavily
wooded with oak and other forest trees, but equally devoid of evidences
of habitation.
In all this wide survey from the little knoll on which the Fort stood,
five houses only were visible. These were built roughly of logs in the
most primitive style of the frontier, and, with a single exception, were
now deserted by their occupants, who had retreated for safety to the
stockade of the Fort. The single exception was the larger and more
ambitious dwelling standing on the north bank of the river, occupied by
John Kinzie and his family, himself an old-time Indian trader, whose
honesty and long dealing with the savages had made him confident of their
friendship and fidelity. At one time, however, so threatening had become
the strange bands that flocked in toward Dearborn, as crows to a feast,
he also deserted his home, and, with those dependent upon him, sought
refuge within the Fort walls; but, influenced by the pledge of the
Pottawattomies, and believing that safety lay in trusting to their
friendship, they had returned to their own house. The other cabins were
scattered to the westward of the stockade, close to the river bank.
These dwellings had been occupied by the families of Ouilmette, Burns,
and Lee, respectively; while the last named owned a second cabin, built
some distance up the south branch of the river, and occupied by a tenant
named Liberty White.
The prospect was in truth depressing to one accustomed to other and more
civilized surroundings. A spirit of loneliness, of fearful isolation,
seemed to hover over the restless waters upon the one hand, and those
vast silent plains on the other; sea and sky, sky and sand, met the
wearied eye wherever it wandered. The scene was unspeakably solemn in
its immensity and loneliness; while irresistibly the thought would wander
over those fateful leagues of prairie and forest that stretched
unbrokenly between this far frontier and the few scattered and remote
settlements that were its nearest neighbors.
It was not until some time later that these sombre reflections pressed
upon me with all their force. After the excitement of our first
boisterous greeting was over, and I found opportunity to lean across the
top of the guarded stockade and gaze alone over the desolate spectacle I
have endeavored to describe, I could feel more acutely the hopelessness
of our situation and the danger threatening us from every side. But at
the moment of our entrance, all my interest and attention had been
centred upon the scenes and persons immediately about me. It was my
first experience within the stockaded walls of an armed government post.
The scene was new to my young senses, and, in spite of the excitement
that still heated my blood, I looked upon it with such absorbing interest
as to be forgetful for the moment even of the fair girl who rode in at my
side.
The dull clang of the heavy iron-bound gate behind us was a welcome sound
after the fierce buffetings of our perilous passage; yet it only
partially shut off the savage howlings, while above the hideous uproar
came the sharp reports of several guns. But the instant bustle and
confusion within scarcely allowed opportunity to notice this disorder;
moreover, there had come to us a sense of safety and security,--we were
at last within the barriers we had struggled so long to gain. However
the savage hordes might rage without, we were now beyond their reach, and
might take breath again.
Our little party, closely bunched together, with Wells and the timorous
Miamis at its head, surged quickly through between the bars, and came to
a halt in an open space, evidently the parade-ground of the garrison, the
bare earth worn smooth and hard by the trampling of many feet. A tall
flag-pole rose near the centre, and the wavering shadow of the banner at
its top extended to the eastern edge of the enclosure. Out from the
log-houses which bordered this enclosure there came a group of people to
welcome us,--officers and soldiers, women neatly dressed and with bright
intelligent faces, women of rougher mould attired in calico or deerskin,
hardy-looking men in rude hunter's garb, picturesque French voyageurs
wiry of limb and dark of skin, an Indian or two, silent, grave,
emotionless, a single negro, and trailing behind them a number of dirty,
delighted children, and dogs of every breed and degree. It was a motley
gathering, and appeared almost like a multitude as it hurried forth into
the open parade-ground, and surged joyfully about us, all eager to
welcome us to Dearborn, and hopeful that we brought them encouragement
and relief. We were of their own race, a link between them and the
far-distant East; and our coming told them they were not forgotten.
The odd commingling of tongues, the constant crowding and scraps of
conversation, the volley of questioning from every side, was confusing
and unintelligible. I could gain only glimpses here and there of what
was going on; nor was I able to judge with any accuracy of the number of
those present. I looked down upon their appealing, anxious faces, with a
sad heart. In some way the sight of them brought back thoughts of the
savage, howling mob without, clamoring for blood, through which we had
won our passage by sheer good-fortune; of those leagues of untracked
forest amid whose glooms we had ploughed our way. I thought of these
things as I gazed upon the helpless women and children thronging about
me, and my heart sank as I realized how great indeed was the burden
resting upon us all, how frail the hope of safety. Death, savage,
relentless, inhuman death in its most frightful guise with torture and
agony unspeakable, lurked along every mile of our possible retreat; nor
could I conceive how its grim coming might long be delayed by that
palisade of logs. We were hopeless of rescue. We were alone, deserted,
the merest handful amid the unnumbered hordes of the vast West. Swift
and terrible as this conception was when it swept upon me, it grew deeper
as I learned more fully the details of our situation.
Just in front of where I lingered in my saddle, the crush slightly
parted, and I noticed a tall man step forward,--a fair man, having a
light beard slightly tinged with gray, and wearing the undress uniform of
a captain of infantry. A lady, several years his junior, stood at his
side, her eyes bright with expectancy. At sight of them, Captain Wells
instantly sprang from his horse and hastened forward, his dark face
lighted by one of his rare smiles.
"Captain," he exclaimed, clasping the officers hand warmly, and extending
his other hand in greeting to the lady, "I am glad indeed to have reached
you in time to be of service; and you, my own dear niece,--may we yet be
permitted to bring you safely back to God's country."
I was unable to catch the reply of either; but I noted that the lady
flung her arms about the speaker's neck and kissed his swarthy cheek.
Then Captain Wells spoke more loudly, so that his words reached my ears.
"But, Heald," he said, "what means all this litter of garrison equipment
lying scattered about? Surely you have no present intention to leave the
Fort, in face Of that savage mob out yonder?"
"'T is the orders of General Hull," was the low; and somewhat hesitating
response, "and the Pottawattomie chiefs have pledged us escort around the
head of the lake. But this is no place to discuss the matter. As soon
as possible I would speak with you more fully in my office."
The look of undisguised amazement upon Wells's face startled me; and as I
glanced about me, wondering whom I might take counsel with, I was
astonished to note the horse that Toinette had ridden standing with empty
saddle. De Croix, negligently curling his mustache between his slender
fingers, gazed at me with a blank stare.
"Where is Mademoiselle?" I questioned anxiously, as he remained silent.
"Surely she was with us as we came in!"
"Pish! of course," he returned carelessly; "if she chooses to dismount
and rejoin her friends, what has that to do with John Wayland? Cannot
the girl so much as move without your permission, Monsieur?"
The words were insolent, not less than the manner that accompanied them.
Instantly there flashed upon me the thought that this Frenchman sought a
quarrel with me; but I could conceive no reason therefor, and was not
greatly disposed to accommodate him.
"'T was no more than curiosity that urged my question," I answered,
assuming not to notice his bravado. "I was so deeply interested in other
things as to have forgotten her presence."
"Something no lady is ever likely to forgive," he interjected. "But what
think you they propose doing with us here?"
As if in direct answer to his question, the young officer who had met us
without now elbowed his way through the throng, until he stood at our
horses' heads.
"Gentlemen," he said, with a quick glance into our faces, "dismount and
come within. There is but little to offer you here at Dearborn, we have
been cut off from civilization so long; but such as we possess will be
shared with you most gladly."
De Croix chatted with him in his easy, familiar manner, as we slowly
crossed the parade; while I followed them in silence, my thoughts upon
the disappearance of Toinette and the Frenchman's sudden show of
animosity. My glance fell upon the groups of children scattered along
our path, and I wondered which among them might prove to be Roger
Matherson's little one. At the entrance of one of the log houses
fronting the parade,--a rather ambitious building of two stories, if I
remember rightly, with a narrow porch along its front,--an officer was
standing upon the step, talking with a sweet-faced woman who appeared
scarce older than seventeen.
"Lieutenant Helm," said Ronan, politely, "this is Captain de Croix, of
the French army."
He presented De Croix to Mrs. Helm, and then turned inquiringly toward me.
"I believe I have failed to learn your name?"
"I am simply John Wayland," I answered, and, with a glance at my face,
Lieutenant Helm cordially extended his hand.
"We are greatly pleased to welcome you both," he said earnestly, but with
a grave side-glance at his young wife, "though I fear we have little to
offer you except privation and danger."
"How many have you in the garrison?" I questioned, my eyes upon the
moving figures about us. "It looks a crowd, in that narrow space."
"They are all there who are able to crawl," he said, with a grave smile.
"But in this case our numbers are a weakness. In the garrison proper we
have four commissioned officers, with fifty-four non-commissioned
officers and privates. To these may be added twelve settlers acting as
militiamen, making a total defensive force of seventy men. But fully
twenty-five of these are upon the sick-list, and totally unfit for active
duty; while we are further burdened by having under our protection twelve
women and twenty children. It almost crazes one to think of what their
fate may be."
"Your defences look strong enough to keep off savages," broke in De
Croix, "and I am told there is a sufficiency of provisions. Saint Guise!
I have seen places where I had rather reside in my old age; yet with
plenty of wine, some good fellows, and as lovely women as have already
greeted me here, 'twill not prove so bad for a few weeks."
Helm glanced at him curiously; then his gaze, always gravely thoughtful,
wandered back to me.
"We are to evacuate the Fort," he said quietly.
"Evacuate?" echoed the Frenchman, as if the word were displeasing. "'T
is a strange military act, in my judgment, and one filled with grave
peril. Does such decision come from a council?"
"There has been no council," broke in Ronan, hastily. "The commander has
not honored his officers by calling one. Such were the orders as
published on parade this morning."
He would have added more, but Helm warned him, by a sudden look of
disapproval.
"I understand," he explained quietly, "that the instructions received
from General Hull at Detroit were imperative, and that Captain Heald was
left no discretion in the matter."
"I have not yet discovered the man who has seen the orders," exclaimed
the Ensign hotly, "and we all know it means death."
Helm faced him sternly.
"A soldier's first duty is obedience," he said shortly, "and we are
soldiers. Gentlemen, will you not come in?"
CHAPTER XII
THE HEART OF A WOMAN
As I sat in the officers' quarters, listening to the conversation
regarding existing conditions at the Fort and the unrest among the
Indians of the border, my thoughts kept veering from sudden and
ungracious disappearance of Mademoiselle to the early seeking after
that hapless orphan child for whose sake I had already travelled so far
and entered into such danger. Evidently, if I was to aid her my quest
must be no longer interrupted.
With characteristic gallantry, De Croix had at once been attracted
toward Lieutenant Helm's young and pretty bride, and they two had
already forgotten all sense of existing peril in a most animated
discussion of the latest fashionable modes in Montreal. I was not a
little amused by the interest manifest in her soft blue eyes as she
spoke with all the art of a woman versed in such mysteries, and at the
languid air of elegance with which he bore himself. Meanwhile, I
answered as best I might the flood of questions addressed to me by the
two officers, who, having been shut out from the world so long, were
naturally eager for military news from Fort Wayne and from the seat of
government. As these partially ceased, I asked: "Has a date been set
for the abandonment of the Fort?"
"We march out upon the fifteenth," was Helm's reply, "the day after
to-morrow, unless something occurs meanwhile to change Captain Heald's
plans. I confess I dread its coming, much as I imagine a condemned man
might dread the date of his execution," and his grave eyes wandered
toward his young wife, as if fearful his words might be overheard by
her. "There are other lives than mine endangered, and their peril
makes duty doubly hard."
"Lieutenant," I said, recalled to my own mission by these words, "I
myself am seeking to be of service to one here,--the young daughter of
one Roger Matherson, an old soldier who died at this post last month.
He was long my father's faithful comrade in arms, and with his dying
breath begged our care for his orphan child. It has come to us as a
sacred trust, and I was despatched upon this errand. Can you tell me
where this girl is to be found?"
Before he could frame a reply, for he was somewhat slow of speech, his
wife, who had turned from De Croix, and was listening with interest to
my story, spoke impulsively.
"Why, we have been wondering, Mr. Wayland, where she could have gone.
Not that we have worried, for she is a girl well able to care for
herself, and of a most independent spirit. She disappeared very
suddenly from the Fort several days ago; we supposed she must have gone
with my mother when Mr. Kinzie took his family back to their home."
"With Mr. Kinzie?" I questioned, for at that moment I could not recall
hearing the name. "May I ask where that home is?"
"He is the very good step-father of my wife, and one she loves as truly
as if he were her own father," answered Helm, warmly; "a man among a
thousand. Mr. Kinzie is an Indian trader, and has been here for
several years, if indeed he be not the first white settler, for old
Pointe Au Sable was a West Indian mulatto. His relations with these
savages who dwell near the Great Lake, and especially those of the
Pottawattomie and Wyandot tribes, are so friendly that he has felt safe
to remain with his family unguarded in his own home. They have always
called him Shaw-nee-aw-kee, the Silver-man, and trust him as much as he
trusts them. He is, besides, a great friend of Sau-ga-nash, the
half-breed Wyandot; and that friendship is a great protection. His
house is across the river, a little to the east of the Fort; it can
easily be seen from the summit of the stockade. But we have had no
direct communication for several days; the orders have been very strict
since the gates were closed. It is not safe for our soldiers to
venture outside except in force, and neither Kinzie nor any of his
family have lately visited us. Doubtless they feel that to do so might
arouse the suspicion of their Indian friends."
"But are you sure they are there, and safe? And do you believe the one
I seek will be found with them?"
"Smoke rises from the chimney, as usual, and there was a light burning
there last evening. We do not know certainly that your friend is
there, but think such is the case, as she was extremely friendly with a
young French girl in their employ named Josette La Framboise."
I sat in silence for some time, thinking, and neglectful of the
conversation being carried on around me by the others, until we were
called to supper by the soldier who officiated as steward for the
officers' mess. I remember many details of the situation, as they were
frankly discussed in my presence while we lingered at the table; yet my
own reflections were elsewhere, as I was endeavoring to determine my
duty regarding the safety of her whom I had come so far to aid.
Surely, my first object now must be to ascertain where she was, in
order to be at her service when the hour for departure came. Nor had I
any time to spare, if we were to march out on the fifteenth. I cannot
describe, at this late day, how strangely my allegiance wavered, in
that hour, between the unknown, unseen girl, and the fair, vivacious
Toinette. My heart drew me toward the one, my clear duty to the other;
and I could see no way out of the dilemma except to find Elsa Matherson
without delay, in order that the two should be close together where, as
need arose, I could stand between them and whatever of evil impended.
I fear I was an indifferent guest, for I was never nimble of tongue,
and that night I was more silent than usual. However, De Croix most
effectually hid my retirement by his rare good-humor and the sparkling
badinage with which he concentrated all attention upon himself, and was
consequently soon in the happiest of moods. I know not how the fellow
succeeded in working the miracle, but he sat at the board, upon Mrs.
Helm's left hand, powdered and curled as if he were gracing a banquet
at the Tuileries. His ruffled shirt, glittering buckles, and bright
blue waistcoat, were startling amid such homely surroundings; while his
neatly folded handkerchief of lace exhaled a delicate perfume. Deeply
as I was immersed in my own thoughts and plans, I could not help
admiring his easy grace, and more than once forgot myself in listening
to his marvellous tales and witty anecdotes.
He was detailing a recent scandal of the French court, passing
delicately over its more objectionable features, when I grasped the
opportunity to slip unobserved from the room into the open of the
parade-ground. It proved a dark night without, but the numerous lights
in the surrounding buildings, whose doors and windows were open,
sufficiently illumined the place, so that I found my way about with
little difficulty. A group of soldiers lounged at the open door of the
guard-house, and I paused a moment to speak with one, a curly-headed
lad, who sat smoking, his back resting easily against the logs.
"Are the outer gates ever opened at night?" I asked.
He glanced up at me in surprise, shading his eyes to be assured of my
identity before speaking.
"Scarcely either day or night now, sir," he replied, respectfully, "but
between sunset and sunrise they are specially barred, and a double
guard is set. No one can pass except on the order of Captain Heald."
"In which direction is the Kinzie house?"
He pointed toward the northeast corner of the stockade.
"It is just over there, sir, across the river. You might see the light
from the platform; beyond the shed yonder is the ladder that leads up
into the blockhouse."
Thanking him, I moved forward as directed, found the ladder, and pushed
my way up through the narrow opening in the floor of the second story.
The small square room, feebly lighted by a single sputtering candle
stuck in the shank of a bayonet, contained half a dozen men, most of
them idling, although two were standing where they could readily peer
out through the narrow slits between the logs. All of them were
heavily armed, and equipped for service. They looked at me curiously
as I first appeared, but the one who asked my business wore the
insignia of a corporal, and was evidently in command.
"I wish to look out over the stockade, if there is no objection. I
came in with Captain Wells's party this afternoon," I said, not knowing
what their orders might be, or if I would be recognized.
"I remember you, sir," was the prompt response, "and you are at liberty
to go out there if you desire. That is the door leading to the
platform."
"The Indians appear to be very quiet to-night."
"The more reason to believe them plotting some fresh deviltry," he
answered, rising to his feet, and facing me. "We never have much to
disturb us upon this side, as it overhangs the river and is not easy of
approach; but the guard on the south wall is kept pretty busy these
last few nights, and has to patrol the stockade. The Indians have been
holding some sort of a powwow out at their camp ever since dark, and
that 's apt to mean trouble sooner or later."
"Then you keep no sentry posted on the platform?" I asked, a thought
suddenly occurring to me.
"Not regularly, sir; only when something suspicious happens along the
river. There 's nobody out there now excepting the French girl,--she
seems to be fond of being out there all alone."
The French girl? Could it be possible that he meant Toinette? I was
conscious of a strange fluttering of the heart, as I stepped forth upon
the narrow footway and peered along it, searching for her. I could
distinguish nothing, however; and as I slowly felt my way forward,
testing the squared log beneath me with careful foot and keeping hold
with one hand upon the sharpened palisades, I began to believe the
corporal had been mistaken. The door, closing behind, shut off the
last gleam of light, and I was left alone in utter darkness and
silence, save for the low rumble of voices within the Fort enclosure,
and the soft plashing below where the river current kissed the bank at
the foot of the stockade.
I had gone almost the full length of that side, before I came where she
was leaning against the logs, her chin resting upon one hand, her gaze
turned northward. Indeed, so silent was she, so intent upon her own
thought, I might have touched her unnoticed in the gloom, had not the
stars broken through a rift in the cloud above us, and sent a sudden
gleam of silver across her face.
"Mademoiselle," I said, striving to address her with something of the
ease I thought De Croix would exercise at such a moment, "I meant not
to intrude upon your privacy, yet I am most glad to meet with you once
more."
She started slightly, as though aroused from reverie, and glanced
inquiringly toward me.
"I supposed my visitor to be one of the guard," she said pleasantly;
"and even now I am unable to distinguish your face, yet the sound of
the voice reminds me of John Wayland."
"I am proud to know that it has not already been forgotten. You
deserted me so suddenly this afternoon, I almost doubted my being
welcome now."
She laughed lightly, tapping the ends of the logs with her finger-tips.
"Have you, then, never learned that a woman is full of whims,
Monsieur?" she questioned. "Why, this afternoon your eyes were so big
with wonder that they had forgotten to look at me. Truly, I spoke to
you twice to aid me from the saddle; but you heard nothing, and in my
desperation I was obliged to turn to the courtesy of Captain de Croix.
Ah, there is a soldier, my friend, who is never so preoccupied as to
neglect his duty to a lady."
"It was indeed most ungallant of me," I stammered, scarce knowing
whether she laughed at me or not. "Yet my surroundings were all new,
and I have the training of De Croix in such matters."
"Pah! 't is just as well. I am inclined to like you as you are, my
friend, and we shall not quarrel; yet, with all his love for lesser
things, your comrade has always shown himself a truly gallant
gentleman."
I made no answer to these flattering words, for I felt them to be true;
yet no less this open praise of him, falling from her lips, racked me
sorely, and I lacked the art to make light of it.
"The soldiers in the block-house tell me you come here often," I
ventured at last, for the dead silence weighed upon me. "You have
never seemed to me like one who would seek such loneliness."
"I am one whom very few wholly comprehend, I fear, and surely not upon
first acquaintance," she answered thoughtfully, "for I am full of
strange moods, and perhaps dream more than other girls. This may have
been born of my early convent training, and the mystic tales of the
nuns; nor has it been lessened by the loneliness of the frontier. So,
if I differ from other young women, you may know 't is my training, as
well as my nature, that may account for it. I have led a strange life,
Monsieur, and one that has known much of sadness. There are times when
I seek my own thoughts, and find liking for no other company. Then I
come here, and in some way the loneliness of water and plain soothe me
as human speech cannot. I used to love to stand yonder by the eastern
wall and gaze out over the Great Lake, watching the green surges chase
each other until they burst in spray along the beach. But since I went
adrift in the little boat, and felt the cruelty of the water, I have
shrunk from looking out upon it. Monsieur, have you never known how
restful it sometimes is to be alone?"
"My life has mostly been a solitary one," I answered, responding
unconsciously to her mood, and, in doing so, forgetting my
embarrassment. "It is the birthright of all children of the frontier.
Indeed, I have seen so little of the great world and so much of the
woods, that I scarcely realize what companionship means, especially
that of my own age. I have made many a solitary camp leagues from the
nearest settlement, and have tracked the forest alone for days
together, so content with my own thought that possibly I understand
your meaning better than if my life had been passed among crowds."
"Ah! but I like the crowds," she exclaimed hastily, "and the glow and
excitement of that brighter, fuller life, where people really live. It
is so dull here,--the same commonplace faces, the tiresome routine of
drill, the same blue sky, gray water, and green plains, to look upon
day after day. Oh, but it is all so wearisome, and you cannot conceive
how I have longed again for Montreal and the many little gaieties that
brighten a woman's world. There are those here who have never known
these happier things; their whole horizon of experience has been
bounded by garrison palisades; but 't is not so with me,--I tasted of
the sweet wine once, when I was a girl, and the memory never leaves me."
"Yet you are often happy?"
"'T is my nature, Monsieur, a legacy of my mother's people; but I am
not always gay of heart when my lips smile."
"And the coming of the French gallant has doubtless freshened your
remembrance of the past?" I said, a trifle bitterly.
"It has indeed," was her frank admission. "He represents a life we
know so little about here on the far frontier. To you, with your code
of border manliness, he may appear all affectation, mere shallow
insincerity; but to me, Captain de Croix represents his class, stands
for the refinements of social order to which women can never be
indifferent. Those were the happiest days of my life, Monsieur; and at
Montreal he was only one among many."
She was gazing out into the black void as she spoke, and the slowly
clearing skies permitted the starlight to gleam in her dark eyes and
reveal the soft contour of her cheek.
"You do not understand that?" she questioned finally, as I failed to
break the silence.
"I have no such pleasant memory to look back upon," I answered; "yet I
can feel, though possibly in a different way, your longing after better
things."
"You realize this sense of loneliness?--this absence of all that makes
life beautiful and worth the living?"
"Perhaps not that,--for life, even here, is well worth living, and to
my eyes the great sea yonder, and the dark forests, are of more
interest than city streets. But in one sense I may enter into your
meaning; my thought also is away from here,--it is with a home,
scarcely less humble than are our present surroundings, yet it contains
the one blessing worth striving after--love."
"Love!" she echoed the unexpected word almost scornfully. "'T is a
phrase so lightly spoken that I scarce know what it may signify to you.
You love some one then, Monsieur?" and she looked up at me curiously.
"My mother, Mademoiselle."
I saw the expression upon her face change instantly. "Your pardon,"
she exclaimed, hastily. "'T was not the meaning I had thought. I know
something of such love as that, and honor you for thus expressing it."
"I have often wondered, since first we met, at your being here,
seemingly alone, at this outermost post of the frontier. It seems a
strange home for one of your refinement and evident delight in social
life."
"'T is not from choice, Monsieur. My mother died when I was but a
child, as I have already told you. I scarce have memory of her, yet I
bear her name, and, I am told, inherit many of her peculiarities. She
was the daughter of a great merchant at Montreal, and the blood of a
noble family of France flowed in her veins. She gave up all else to
become my father's wife; nor did she ever live to regret it."
Her voice was so low and plaintive that I hesitated to speak; yet
finally, as she ceased, and silence fell between us, I asked another
question:
"And 't was then you voyaged into this wilderness with your father?"
"I have never since left him while he lived," she answered softly, her
head resting upon her hand. "But he also has gone now, and I merely
wait opportunity to journey eastward."
"He was a trader, you told me once?"
"A soldier first, Monsieur; a true and gallant soldier, but later he
traded with the Indians for furs."
I felt that she was weeping softly, although I could see but little,
and I leaned in silence against the rough logs, gazing out into the
black night, hesitating to break in upon her grief. Then a voice spoke
rapidly at the farther end of the stockade, and a sudden glow of light
shot like an arrow along the platform. I turned quickly, and there in
the open doorway, clearly outlined against the candle flame, stood De
Croix.
CHAPTER XIII
A WAGER OF FOOLS
"It looks a narrow walk, my friend," he said rather doubtfully, peering
forward with shaded eyes, "and 'tis dark as Erebus; yet gladly will I
make the venture for hope of the reward."
The door closed behind him, shutting off the last vestige of light; and
we, with our eyes accustomed to the gloom, could mark his dim outline
as he advanced toward us. His actions belied his words, for he moved
with all his accustomed jauntiness along the uncertain foot-way, barely
touching the top of the palisades with one hand to guide his progress.
He was almost upon the girl before he perceived either of us; and then
his earliest words surprised me into silence.
"Ah, Toinette!" he cried eagerly, "I fear I must have kept you waiting
overlong; yet I was with Mrs. Helm,--a most fair and charming
bride,--and scarce noted the rapid passage of time."
"I naturally supposed it was a woman," she answered, with what I
interpreted as a strained assumption of indifference, "as that has ever
been your sufficient reason for breaking faith with me."
"Do not interpret it so, I beg," he hastened to implore. "Surely, my
being a few moments in arrears is not a matter sufficiently serious to
be called a breakage of faith. I do assure you, Toinette, you were
never once absent from my thought."
"Indeed?" she exclaimed incredulously, and with an echo of suppressed
laughter in her voice. "Then truly you are far more to be commiserated
on this occasion than I, for in truth, Monsieur de Croix, I have not
missed you over-much. I have enjoyed most excellent company."
"The mysterious spirits of the starry night?" he questioned, looking
out into the darkness, "or the dim figures of your own imagination?"
"Very far from either," she retorted, with a laugh; "a most substantial
reality, as you are bound to confess. Master Wayland, is it not time
for you fitly to greet Captain de Croix? He may deem you lax in
cordiality."
I can perceive now how dearly the laughing witch loved to play us one
against the other, hiding whatever depth of feeling she may have had
beneath the surface of careless innocence, and keeping us both in an
uncertainty as aggravating as it was sweet. I could not read the
expression upon De Croix's face in the gloom, yet I saw him start
visibly at her almost mocking words, and there was a trace of
ill-suppressed irritation in his voice.
"Saint Guise! 'T was for that, then, he left us so mysteriously," he
exclaimed, unconsciously uttering his first thought aloud. "But how
knew he you were to be here?"
Before she could answer, I spoke, anxious to relieve her of
embarrassment; for 't was ever my nature to yield much without
complaint.
"As it chances, Captain de Croix, she did not know," I said, standing
back from the palisades where he could see me more clearly. "I left
the table below with no thought of meeting Mademoiselle, and came out
on this platform for a different purpose. As you know, I am visiting
Dearborn upon a special mission."
"Ah, true," and I could feel the trace of relief in his voice as he
instantly recalled my story. "You also sought a girl in this
wilderness,--may I ask, have you yet found trace of her?"
I heard Mademoiselle move quickly.
"A girl?" she asked in surprise. "Here, at Dearborn?"
"She was at Dearborn until very lately, but they tell me now I must
seek for her at the Kinzie house. It was for the purpose of marking
its position from the Fort that I came up here."
For a moment no one of our voices broke the strained silence. I was
troubled by this knowledge of a pre-arranged meeting between these two,
yet felt it was nothing with which I had a right to interfere. This
careless French girl, whom I had known for scarcely two days, was not
one to be easily guided, even had I either reason or excuse for
attempting it.
"'T is strange," she said, musingly, "that she has never so much as
spoken to me about it; yet she was always shy of speech in such
matters."
"Of whom do you speak, Toinette?" questioned De Croix.
"Of Master Wayland's young friend with the Kinzies," she answered, the
old sprightliness again in her voice. "I know her very well,
Monsieur,--a dear, sweet girl,--and shall be only too glad to speed you
on to her. Yet 't is not so easy of accomplishment, hemmed in as we
are here now. Yonder is the light, Master Wayland; but much of peril
may lurk between. 'Tis not far, were the way clear; indeed, in the old
days of peace a rope ferry connected Fort and house, but now to reach
there safely will require a wide detour and no little woodcraft. There
were patrols of savages along the river bank at dusk, and it is
doubtful if all have been withdrawn."
I looked as she pointed, and easily distinguished the one glittering
spark that pierced the darkness to the north and east. I wondered at
her earlier words; yet they might all be true enough, for I knew
nothing of this Elsa Matherson. Before I could question further, De
Croix had interfered,--eager, no doubt, to be rid of me.
"Upon my soul!" he exclaimed recklessly, "if I could voyage here from
Montreal to win but a smile, it should prove a small venture for our
backwoods friend to cover yonder small distance. _Sacre_! I would do
the deed myself for one kiss from rosy lips."
I have wondered since what there was about those words to anger me. It
must have been their boastful tone, the sarcasm that underlay the
velvet utterance, which stung like salt in a fresh wound. I felt that
from the summit of his own success he durst laugh at me; and my blood
boiled instantly.
"You are wondrous bold, Monsieur," I retorted, "when the matter is
wholly one of words. I regret I cannot pledge you such reward, so that
I might learn how you would bear yourself in the attempt."
He stared at me haughtily across the shoulder of the girl, as it
doubting he heard aright.
"You question my courage to venture it?"
"It has been my experience that the cock that crows the loudest fights
the least."
"Oh, hush, Messieurs!" broke in Mademoiselle, her voice showing
suppressed amusement. "This platform is far too narrow to quarrel
upon; and, besides, the condition of the wager is most easily
met,--that is, if my lips be deemed of sufficiently rosy hue."
I know I stood with opened mouth, so astounded by these mocking words
as to be stricken dumb; but not so De Croix. The audacity of his
nature made eager response to the bold challenge.
"Do you mean what you say, Toinette?" he asked, striving to gain a view
of her face in the darkness.
"Do I? And pray, why not?" she questioned lightly. "One kiss is not
so very much to give, and I shall never miss it. 'T is duller here
than at Montreal, and no doubt 't will greatly interest me to witness
the race. Surely it will prove a better way to end your foolish
quarrel than to shoot each other. But come, Messieurs, why do you
hesitate so long? is not the prize enough?"
He bowed gallantly, and took her hand.
"'T would be the ransom of a king," he answered; "though first I wish
to know the terms of this contest more clearly."
She looked out into that silent and lonely night, her eyes upon the
distant gleam, and instinctively our glances followed hers. It was a
dull desolation, with no sound, no movement, in all the black void.
The stars gleamed dull on the water of the river beneath us, and we
could dimly see the denser shadow of the opposite shore; beyond this,
nothing was apparent save that distant candle flame. What lay
between,--what strange obstruction of land, what ambushed
foes,--neither of us had means of knowing. We could simply plunge into
the mystery of it blindfolded by the fates. Yet to draw back now would
brand either of us forever with the contempt of her who had challenged
us so lightly.
"'T is all simple enough," she said at last, her eyes glowing with
quick excitement. "The goal is yonder where that light glows so
clearly, though I warn you the longest way round may prove the surest
in the end. To the one of you who reaches there first and returns
here, I am to give one kiss as a measure of reward. I care not how it
may be accomplished,--such minor matters rest with your own wits."
"But the young girl we seek," he insisted; "must she also be brought
here upon the return?"
"Pish! what care I what may be done with the girl? Besides, she is far
safer from the savages there than she would be here."
I saw De Croix lean far out over the sharpened palisades and peer
downward. The movement gave me instantly a thought of his purpose,
and, unnoticed, I loosened the pistol-belt about my waist and silently
dropped it upon the platform. Whatever desperate chance he might
choose to take, I was determined now to equal.
"Doth the water of the river come to the very foot of these logs?" he
asked, unable to determine in the darkness.
"No, Monsieur, the earth slopes downward for some feet, yet the current
is at this bank, and gives much depth of water at the shore."
"But of what width is the strip of earth between?"
"Perhaps the length of a tall man."
"Saint Guise! 'tis well I thought to ask!" he explained jauntily. "And
now, Mademoiselle, if you will but kindly hold this coat and sword, I
shall strive to show you how highly I value the prize offered, and what
a French gentleman can do for love."
I fully grasped his purpose now, and even as he turned toward her,
holding out the valuables he hesitated to lose, I scaled the low
barrier in my front, planted my feet firmly between the pointed stakes,
and sprang boldly into the darkness.
CHAPTER XIV
DARKNESS AND SURPRISE
It was a greater distance to the water than I had supposed, but I
struck at last fairly enough, and went down until I thought I should
never come up again. As I rose to the surface and shook the moisture
from my face and ears, a light laugh rang out high above me, and
Mademoiselle's clear voice cried mockingly:
"The backwoodsman has taken the first trick, Monsieur."
I saw De Croix's body dart, like a black arrow, far out into the air,
and come sweeping down. He struck to my left, and a trifle behind me;
but I waited not to learn just how. With lusty strokes I struck out
for the north shore. It was a hard swim, for my deerskins held the
water like so many bags, and the current, though not rapid, was
sufficiently strong to make me fight valiantly for every foot of way.
I came out, panting heavily, upon a low bank of soft mud, and crept
cautiously up under the black shadow of some low bushes growing there.
I took time, as I rested, to glance back, hoping thus to learn more of
the direction I should follow; for the Kinzie light was no longer
visible, and my struggle with the current had somewhat bewildered me.
I neither saw nor heard anything of De Croix; but the flame of the
candle gleaming through the narrow slits of the block-house told me
clearly where it stood, while a wild yelling farther to the southward
convinced me that our Indian besiegers were yet astir and concocting
some fresh deviltry at their camp. With a half-uttered prayer that
they might all be there, I hastily pressed the water from my soggy
clothes and plunged forward into the unknown darkness. A big
cottonwood, as from its shape I judged it to be, rose against the stars
in my front,--a dim outline swaying slightly in the westerly wind, and
I took it as my first guide-mark, moving over the rough unknown ground
as rapidly and silently as possible.
The soft moccasins I wore aided me greatly, nor were there many trees
along the way to drop twigs in the path to crackle under foot; yet I
found the ground uneven and deceptive, rifted with small gullies, and
more or less bestrewn with stones, against which I stumbled in the
darkness. I was too thoroughly trained in the stern and careful school
of the frontier not to be cautious at such a time, for I knew that
silence and seeming desolation were no proof of savage desertion; nor
did I believe that Indian strategy would leave the north of the Fort
wholly unguarded. Any rock, any black ravine, any clump of trees or
bushes, might well be the lurking-place of hostiles, who would only too
gladly wreak their vengeance upon any hapless straggler falling into
their hands. I was unarmed, save for the long hunting-knife I carried
in the bosom of my shirt; but my thought was not of fighting,--it was
to get through without discovery.
To De Croix I gave small consideration, save that the memory of the
wager was a spur to urge me forward at greater speed. The place was
strangely, painfully still; even the savage yelling of the distant
Indians seemed to die away as I advanced, and nothing broke the
oppressive silence but an occasional flutter of leaves, or my own deep
breathing. I had gone, I take it, half or three-quarters of a mile,
not directly north, but circling ever to the eastward, seeking thus to
reach the house from the rear, when I came to a sharp break in the
surface of the land, somewhat deeper and more abrupt than those before
encountered. It seemed like a cut or ravine made by some rush of water
lakeward; and, as I hesitated upon the edge of it, peering across and
wondering if I had better risk the plunge, my eyes caught the blaze of
the Kinzie light scarce a hundred yards from the opposite bank of the
ravine.
Assured that I was headed right, I stepped off with a new confidence
that, for the moment, conquered my usual prudence,--for the steep bank
gave way instantly beneath my weight. I grasped vainly at the edge,
fell heavily sidewise, and rolled like a great log, bruised and
half-stunned, into the black gorge below. I remember gripping at a
slender bush that yielded to my touch; but all the rest was no more
than a breathless tumble, until I struck something soft at the
bottom,--something that squirmed and gripped my long hair savagely, and
pushed my head back with a grasp on the throat that nearly throttled me.
It was all so sudden, so unexpected, that for the moment I was helpless
as a child, struggling merely from the natural instinct of preservation
to break free. I could perceive nothing, the darkness was so intense;
yet as I gradually succeeded in getting my hands loose, I wound them in
long coarse hair, pressed them against bare flesh, heard deep labored
breathing close to my face, and believed I was struggling with a savage.
It was a question of mere brute strength, and neither of us had had the
advantage of surprise. I could feel the sharp prick of my own knife as
he hugged me to him, but I dare not reach for it, and I held his arms
so tightly that he lay panting and struggling as if in a vise. It was
an odd fight, as we turned and tossed, writhed and twisted among those
sharp pointed rocks like two infuriated wild-cats in the dark, neither
venturing to break hold for a blow, nor having breath enough in our
bodies for so much as a curse. My adversary struck me once with his
head under the chin, so hard a blow that everything turned red before
me; and then I got my knee up into the pit of his stomach and caused
him to quiver from the agony of it; yet the fellow clung to me like a
bull-terrier, and never so much as whined.
It was never my nature to yield easily, and I felt now this struggle
was to cost his life or mine; so I clinched my teeth, and sought my
best to push back the other's head until the neck should crack. But if
I was a powerful man, this other was no less so, and he fought with a
fierce and silent desperation that foiled me. We dug and tore, gouged
and struck, digging our heels into the soft earth in a vain endeavor to
gain some advantage of position. My cheek, I knew, was bleeding from
contact with a jagged stone, and I was fast growing faint from the
awful tension, when I felt his arms slip.
"My God!" he panted. "The devil has me!"
So startled was I by these English words, that I loosed my grip,
staring breathlessly through the darkness.
"Are you white?" I gasped, so weakened I could scarce articulate.
For a moment he did not answer, but I could hear his breath coming in
gasps and sobs. Then he spoke slowly, his voice hoarse from exertion.
"By the memory of Moses! I was once,--but that squeeze must have
turned me black, I 'm thinkin'. An' ye're no Injun?"
"Not so much as a feather of one," I retorted. "But that is what I
took you to be."
We were both sitting up by this time, he with his back against the
bank, both of us panting as if we could never regain our breath, and
eagerly seeking to see each other's features in the gloom. Any attempt
at conversation was painful, but I managed at last to stammer:
"You must be a whalebone man, or I 'd have broken every rib in your
body."
"An' I 'm not a bit sure ye did n't," was the response, uttered between
puffs. "'T was the worst grip ever Ol' Tom Burns had squeeze him,--an'
I 've felt o' bars mor' nor oncet. Who may ye be, anyhow, stranger?
an' for what cause did ye jump down yere on me?"
There was a trace of growing anger in his tone, as remembrance of the
outrage returned to his mind, which caused me to smile, now that I
could breathe less painfully. It seemed such a ludicrous affair,--that
dark struggle, each mistaking the purpose and color of the other.
"My name is Wayland," I made haste to explain, "and I left the Fort but
now, hoping by this round-about route to reach the Kinzie place and
return under cover of darkness. I slipped on the edge of the bank up
yonder, and the next thing I knew we were at it. I can assure you,
friend, I supposed myself in the arms of a savage. You say your name
is Burns?"
"Ol' Tom Burns."
"What? It is not possible you are the same who brought a message to
Major Wayland on the Maumee?"
"I reckon I am," he said, deliberately. "An' be you the boy I met?"
"Yes," I said, still doubtful. "But how came you here?"
"Wal, here's whar I belong. I've bin a sorter huntin' an' trappin'
yer'bouts fer goin' on nine year or so, an' I built a shanty to live in
up yonder by the forks. I hed n't much more nor got home frum down
east, when the Injuns burnt thet down; an' sence then I ain't bin much
o' nowhar, but I reckon'd I 'd go inter ther Fort to-morrow and git
some grub."
He spoke with a slow, deliberate drawl, as if not much accustomed to
converse; and I pictured him to myself as one of those silent
plainsmen, so habituated to solitude as almost to shun companionship,
though he had already let drop a word or two that made me deem him one
not devoid of humor. Suddenly I thought of De Croix.
"Has any one passed here lately?" I asked, rising to my feet, the old
emulation throbbing in my veins. "A white man, I mean, going north."
"Wal," he answered slowly, and as he also stood up I could make out,
what I had not noted in our previous meeting, that he was as tall as I,
but spare of build; "I ain't seen nuthin', but some sort o' critter
went ploughin' down inter the gulch up yonder, maybe ten minutes 'fore
ye lit down yere on me. Dern if I know whether it were a human er a
bar!"
"Will you show me the nearest way to the Kinzie house?"
"I reckon I 'll show ye all right, but ye bet ye don't git me nigher
ner a hundred foot o' the door," he returned seriously. "John Kinzie
's a mighty good man, stranger, but he an' Ol' Tom Burns ain't never
hitched worth a cent."
We climbed silently, and came out together upon the top. A slight beam
of light crept along through the open door of the log house just in
front of us, and for the first time I caught a fair view of my
companion. He was a tall, gaunt, wiry fellow, typical in dress and
manner of his class,--the backwoodsmen of the Southwest,--but with a
peculiarly solemn face, seamed with wrinkles, and much of it concealed
beneath a bushy, iron-gray beard. We eyed each other curiously.
"Dern if ever I expected ter meet up with ye agin in no sich way as
this," he said shortly. "But thet 's the house. Be ye goin' ter stay
thar long?"
"No," I answered, feeling anxious to have his guidance back to the
Fort, "not over five minutes. Will you wait?"
"Reckon I may as well," and he seated himself on a stump.
No one greeted me at the house, not even a dog; though I could see
figures moving within. Either the occupants felt that an assumption of
confidence was their best security, or experienced no fear of Indian
treachery, for I rapped twice before there was any response. A young
girl, with a face of rare beauty and a pair of roguish black eyes,
peered out curiously. At sight of a stranger she drew back slightly,
yet paused to ask:
"Did you wish to see some one here?"
"I am seeking for a young girl," I answered, wondering if this could
possibly be she, "and they told me at the Fort I should probably find
her here. May I ask if you are Elsa Matherson?"
For a moment she looked out at me, as if I might be an escaped lunatic.
Then she turned her face over her shoulder toward those within.
"Mr. Kinzie," said she, "here 's another man looking for Elsa
Matherson."
CHAPTER XV
AN ADVENTURE UNDERGROUND
A heavily-built man in shirt-sleeves, with a strong, good-humored face,
and a shock of gray hair, appeared beside the girl in the doorway.
"'T is not the same scamp that kissed you, Josette," he exclaimed,
after examining me intently in the dim light, "but I doubt not he may
prove of similar breed, and it behooves you to be careful where you
stand."
"Has De Croix been here?" I questioned, scarcely deeming it possible he
could have outstripped me in our race through the night.
"I know not the rascal's name," was the reply, in the man's deep voice,
"but certain I am there was one here scarce ten minutes agone asking
after this same Matherson girl. Saint James! but she must have made
some sweet acquaintances, judging from the looks of her callers!
Josette has been rubbing the fellow's kiss off her lips ever since he
caught her unawares."
"He was a dandified young fellow?" I urged, impatient to be off, yet
eager to be sure.
The girl laughed lightly, her roguish eyes ablaze with merriment.
"He might be sometime, Monsieur," she cried, evidently glad to talk,
"but to-night he reminded me of those scare-crows the farmers near
Quebec keep in their fields; a little chap, with a bit of turned-up
mustache, and a bright eye, but rags,--gracious, such rags as he wore!"
'T was De Croix, there could be no doubt of it,--De Croix, torn and
dishevelled by his mad rush through the darkness, but with no shred of
his reckless audacity gone. There was naught left me now but to race
back upon his trail, hopeful for some chance that might yet allow me to
come in first on the return journey. In my throat I swore one
thing,--the graceless villain should never collect his reward at both
ends of his journey. He had already stolen the sweets from Josette's
red lips, but he should never claim those of Mademoiselle. I lingered
for but a single question more.
"But this Elsa Matherson,--she is not here, then?"
"No," returned Mr. Kinzie, somewhat gruffly, "and has not been since
the closing of the gates of the Fort. I think you are a parcel of mad
fools, to be chasing around on such an errand; yet humanity leads me to
bid you come in. There is not a safe foot of ground to-night for any
strange white man within three hundred miles of Dearborn."
I glanced about me into the black shadows, startled at his solemn words
of warning. Away to the southward a faint glimmer told of the location
of the Fort; farther to the west, a sudden blaze swept up into the sky,
reflected in ruddy radiance on the clouds, and the thought came to me
that the savages had put torch to the deserted cabin on the south
branch of the river.
"No doubt 'tis true," I answered hastily; "yet, whatever the danger may
be, I must regain the stockade before dawn."
I saw him step forward, as if he would halt me in my purpose; but,
wishing to be detained no longer, my thoughts being all with De Croix
and Mademoiselle, I turned away quickly and plunged back into the
darkness.
"You young fool!" he called after me, "come back, or your life will be
the forfeit!"
Without so much as answering, I ran silently in my moccasins to the
spot where I had left Ol' Tom Burns. He sat upon his stump,
motionless, apparently without the slightest interest in anything going
on about him.
"Ol' Kinzie was gol-dern polite ter ye, sonny," he commented. "Reckon
if an Injun was a scalpin' me right on his front doorstep he 'd never
hev asked me ter walk inside like that! He an' me sorter drew on each
other 'bout a year ago, down at Lee's shebang; an' he don't 'pear ter
fergit 'bout it."
"Show me the nearest safe passage to the Fort," I said, interrupting
him, almost rudely.
He got up slowly, and cast his eyes with deliberation southward.
"Oh, thar ain't no sich special hurry, I reckon," he answered with an
exasperating drawl. "We 'll be thar long afore daylight,--perviding
allers we don't hit no Injuns meantime,--an' the slower we travel the
less chance thar is o' thet."
"But, friend Burns," I urged, "it is a racing matter. I must reach
there in advance of another man, who has already been here ahead of me."
"So I sorter reckoned from what I heerd; but ye need n't rip the shirt
off ye on thet account. The feller can't git in thar till after
daylight, nohow. Them sojers is too blame skeered ter open the gates
in the dark, an' all the critter 'll git if he tries it will be a
volley o' lead; so ye might just as well take it easylike."
The old man's philosophy seemed sound. De Croix would certainly not
gain admittance until he could make himself known to the guard, and,
carefully as the stockade was now patrolled, it was hardly probable he
would be permitted to approach close enough for identification during
the night. De Croix was no frontiersman, and was reckless to a degree;
yet his long training as a soldier would certainly teach him a measure
of caution in approaching a guarded fort at such a time.
"'Tis doubtless true," I admitted, "yet I shall feel safer if we push
on at once."
"Ye called the feller De Croix, didn't ye?" he asked. "Is it the
French dandy as was at Hawkins's?"
"Yes," I answered, "and I guess you don't care much to help him."
Burns wasted no breath in reply, but moved forward with noiseless step.
Glancing back, I could clearly perceive Kinzie framed in the light of
his open door. The vivacious French lass stood beside him, peering
curiously out across his broad shoulders. Then we sank into the
blackness of the ravine, and everything was blotted from our sight.
Burns evidently knew the intricacies of the path leading to the Fort
gate, for I soon felt my feet upon a beaten track, and stumbled no more
over the various obstacles that rendered my former progress so
uncertain. My guide moved with excessive caution, as it seemed to me,
frequently pausing to peer forward into the almost impenetrable
darkness, and sniffing the night air suspiciously as if hoping thus to
locate any lurking foes when his keen eyes failed in the attempt. So
dark was it that I had almost to tread upon his heels in order to
follow him, as not the slightest sound came from his stealthy advance.
As he surmounted the steeper inclines of land, I was able to perceive
him dimly, usually leaning well forward and moving with the utmost
caution, his long rifle held ready for instant use. As we drew nearer
the river,--or where I supposed the river must be, for I could
distinguish but little of our position,--he swerved from the footpath
we were following, and the way instantly grew rougher to our feet.
"Reckon we 'd better hit the crick a bit below the Fort," he muttered,
over his shoulder; "less likely ter find Injuns waitin' fer us thar."
"You think there are savages on this shore?"
He turned partially, and peered at me through the darkness.
"I never heerd tell as Injuns was fools," he answered briefly. "In
course thar 's some yere, an' we 're almighty likely ter find 'em."
On the bank of the river, which I could see dimly by the faint light of
a star or two that had broken through the cloud-rifts, he paused
suddenly, sniffing the air like a pointer dog.
"The gol-dern fools!" he muttered, striking his rifle-butt on the
ground with an expression of disgust. "They 've gone and done it now!"
"Done what?" I questioned, almost guessing his meaning as a pungent
odor assailed my nostrils. "That smells like rum!"
"'T is rum. Dern if ever I see whar the A'mighty finds so many blame
idjits ter make sojers of! Them ar' fellers in the Fort wer n't in
tight 'nough pickle, with a thousand savages howlin' 'bout 'em, so they
've went an' poured all their liquor inter the river! If I know Injun
nature, it jist means the craziest lot o' redskins, whin they find it
out, ever was on these yere plains. I bet they make thet fool garrison
pay mighty big fer this job!"
"You mean the destruction of the liquor will anger them?"
"Anger? It'll drive 'em plum crazy,--they'll be ravin' maniacs! It's
the hope o' spoils thet's held 'em back so long. They 've wanted the
Fort to be 'vacuated, so as they could plunder it,--thet's been the
song o' the chiefs to hold their young men from raisin' ha'r. But
come, sonny, thar 's nothin' gained a-stayin' here, an' dern me if I
want ter meet any Injun with thet thar smell in the air. I don't swim
no river smellin' like thet one does. We 'll
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