IN DE BAUGIS’ QUARTERS
De Tonty never gave way an inch, as a dozen soldiers advanced at Cassion’s order.
“Wait men!” he said sternly. “’Tis no time, with Iroquois about, to start a quarrel, yet if a hand be laid on this lad here in anger, we, who are of La Salle’s Company, will protect him with our lives––”
“You defend a murderer?”
“No; a comrade. Listen to me, Cassion, and you De Baugis. I have held quiet to your dictation, but no injustice shall be done to comrade of mine save by force of arms. I know naught of your quarrel, or your charges of crime against De Artigny, but the lad is going to have fair play. He is no courier du bois to be killed for your vengeance, but an officer under Sieur de la Salle, entitled to trial and judgment.”
“He was my guide; I have authority.”
“Not now, Monsieur. ’Tis true he served you, and was your engagé on the voyage hither. But even in that service, he obeyed the orders of La Salle. Now, within these palisades, he is an officer of this garrison, and subject only to me.”
De Baugis spoke, his voice cold, contemptuous.
“You refuse obedience to the Governor of New France?”
“No, Monsieur; I am under orders to obey. There will be no trouble between us if you are just to my men. La Barre is not here to decide this, but I am.” He put his hand on De Artigny’s shoulder. “Monsieur Cassion charges this man with murder. He is an officer of my command, and I arrest him. He shall be protected, and given a fair trial. What more can you ask?”
“You will protect him! help him to escape, rather!” burst out Cassion. “That is the scheme, De Baugis.”
“Your words are insult, Monsieur, and I bear no more. If you seek quarrel, you shall have it. I am your equal, Monsieur, and my commission comes from the King. Ah, M. de la Durantaye, what say you of this matter?”
A man, broad shouldered, in the dress of a woodsman, elbowed his way through the throng of soldiers. He had a strong, good-humored face.
“In faith, I heard little of the controversy, yet ’tis like I know the gist of it, as I have just conversed with a wounded soldier of mine, Barbeau, who repeated the story as he understood it. My hand to you, Sieur de Artigny, and it seems to me, Messieurs, that De Tonty hath the right of it.”
“You take his side against us who hath the authority of the Governor?”
“Pah! that is not the issue. Tis merely a question of justice to this lad here. I stand for fair trial with Henri de Tonty, and will back my judgment with my sword.”
They stood eye to eye, the four of them, and the group of soldiers seemed to divide, each company drawing together. Cassion growled some vague threat, but De Baugis took another course, gripping his companion by the arm.
“No, Francois, ’tis not worth the danger,” he expostulated. “There will be no crossing of steel. Monsieur Cassion, no doubt, hath reason to be angered––but not I. The man shall have his trial, and we will learn the right and wrong of all this presently. Monsieur Tonty, the prisoner is left in your charge. Fall back men––to your barracks. Madame, permit me to offer you my escort.”
“To where, Monsieur?”
“To the only quarters fitted for your reception,” he said gallantly, “those I have occupied since arrival here.”
“You vacate them for me?”
“With the utmost pleasure,” bowing gallantly. “I beg of you their acceptance; your husband has been my guest, and will join with me in exile.”
I glanced at De Tonty, who yet stood with hand on De Artigny’s shoulder, a little cordon of his own men gathered closely about them. My eyes encountered those of the younger officer. As I turned away I found myself confronted by Cassion. The very sight of his face brought me instant decision, and I spoke my acceptance before he could utter the words trembling on his lips.
“I will use your quarters gladly, Captain de Baugis,” I said quietly, “but will ask to be left there undisturbed.”
“Most assuredly, Madame––my servant will accompany you.”
“Then good-night, Messieurs,” I faced Cassion, meeting his eyes frankly. “I am greatly wearied, and would rest; tomorrow I will speak with you, Monsieur. Permit me to pass.”
He stood aside, unable to affront me, although the anger in his face, was evidence enough of brewing trouble. No doubt he had boasted of me to De Baugis, and felt no desire now to have our true relations exposed thus publicly. I passed him, glancing at none of the others, and followed the soldier across the beaten parade. A moment later I was safely hidden within a two-roomed cabin.
Everything within had an appearance of neatness, almost as if a woman had arranged its furnishings. I 303 glanced about in pleased surprise, as the soldier placed fresh fuel on the cheerful fire blazing in the fireplace, and drew closer the drapery over the single window.
“Madame will find it comfortable?” he said, pausing at the door.
“Quite so,” I answered. “One could scarcely anticipate so delightful a spot in this Indian land.”
“Monsieur de Baugis has the privilege of Sieur de la Salle’s quarters,” he answered, eager to explain, “and besides brought with him many comforts of his own. But for the Iroquois we would be quite happy.”
“They have proven dangerous?”
“Not to us within the fort. A few white men were surprised without and killed, but, except for shortness of provisions and powder and ball, we are safe enough here. Tomorrow you will see how impregnable is the Rock from savage attack.”
“I have heard there are a thousand Iroquois in the valley.”
“Ay, and possibly more, and we are but a handful in defense, yet their only approach is along that path you came tonight. The cowardly Illini fled down the river; had they remained here we would have driven the vermin out before this, for ’tis said they fight well with white leaders.”
I made no reply, and the man disappeared into the darkness, closing the heavy door behind him, and leaving 304 me alone. I made it secure with an oaken bar, and sank down before the fire on a great shaggy bear skin. I was alone at last, safe from immediate danger, able to think of the strange conditions surrounding me, and plan for the future. The seriousness of the situation I realized clearly, and also the fact that all depended on my action––even the life of Rene de Artigny.
I sat staring into the fire, no longer aware of fatigue, or feeling any sense of sleepiness. The thick log walls of the cabin shut out all noise; I was conscious of a sense of security, of protection, and yet comprehended clearly what the new day would bring. I should have to face Cassion, and in what spirit could I meet him best? Thus far I had been fortunate in escaping his denunciation, but I realized the reason which had compelled his silence––pride, the fear of ridicule, had sealed his lips. I was legally his wife, given to him by Holy Church, yet for weeks, months, during all our long wilderness journey, I had held aloof from him, mocking his efforts, and making light of his endeavors. It had been maddening, no doubt, and rendered worse by his growing jealousy of De Artigny.
Then I had vanished, supposedly drowned in the great lake. He had sought me vainly along the shore, and finally turned away, convinced of my death, and that De Artigny had also perished.
Once at the fort, companioning with De Baugis, and 305 with no one to deny the truth of his words, his very nature would compel him to boast of his marriage to Adele la Chesnayne. No doubt he had told many a vivid tale of happiness since we left Quebec. Ay, not only had he thus boasted of conquests over me, but he had openly charged De Artigny with murder, feeling safe enough in the belief that we were both dead. And now when we appeared before him alive and together, he had been for the moment too dazed for expression. Before De Baugis he dare not confess the truth, yet this very fact would only leave him the more furious. And I knew instinctively the course the man would pursue. His one thought, his one purpose, would be revenge––nothing would satisfy him except the death of De Artigny. Personally I had little to fear; I knew his cowardice, and that he would never venture to use physical force with me. Even if he did I could rely upon the gallantry of De Tonty, and of De Baugis for protection. No, he would try threats, entreaties, slyness, cajolery, but his real weapon to overcome my opposition would be De Artigny. And there he possessed power.
I felt in no way deceived as to this. The ugly facts, as Cassion was able to present them, would without doubt, condemn the younger man. He had no defense to offer, except his own assertion of innocence. Even if I told what I knew it would only strengthen the 306 chain of circumstance, and make his guilt appear clearer.
De Tonty would be his friend, faithful to the end; and I possessed faith in the justice of De Baugis, yet the facts of the case could not be ignored––and these, unexplained, tipped with the venom of Cassion’s hatred, were sufficient to condemn the prisoner. And he was helpless to aid himself; if he was to be saved, I must save him. How? There was but one possible way––discovery of proof that some other committed the crime. I faced the situation hopelessly, confessing frankly to myself that I loved the man accused; that I would willingly sacrifice myself to save him.
I felt no shame at this acknowledgment, and in my heart there was no shadow of regret. Yet I sat there stunned, helpless, gazing with heavy eyes into the fire, unable to determine a course of action, or devise any method of escape.
Unable longer to remain quiet, I got to my feet, and my eyes surveyed the room. So immersed in thought I had not before really noted my surroundings, but now I glanced about, actuated by a vague curiosity. The hut contained two rooms, the walls of squared logs, partially concealed by the skins of wild animals, the roof so low I could almost touch it with my hand.
A table and two chairs, rudely made with axe and knife, comprised the entire furniture, but a small mirror, 307 unframed, hung suspended against the farther wall. I glanced at my reflection in the glass, surprised to learn how little change the weeks had made in my appearance. It was still the face of a girl which gazed back at me, with clear, wide-open eyes, and cheeks flushed in the firelight. Strange to say the very sight of my youthfulness was a disappointment and brought with it doubt. How could I fight these men? how could I hope to win against their schemes, and plans of vengeance?
I opened the single window, and leaned out, grateful for the fresh air blowing against my face, but unable to perceive the scene below shrouded in darkness. Far away, down the valley, was the red glow of a fire, its flame reflecting over the surface of the river. I knew I stared down into a great void, but could hear no sound except a faint gurgle of water directly beneath. I closed the window shutter, and, urged by some impulse, crossed over to the door leading to the other apartment. It was a sleeping room, scarcely more than a large closet, with garments hanging on pegs against the logs, and two rude bunks opposite the door. But the thing which captured my eyes was a bag of brown leather lying on the floor at the head of one of the bunks––a shapeless bag, having no distinctive mark about it, and yet which I instantly recognized––since we left Quebec it had been in our boat.
As I stood staring at it, I remembered the words of De Baugis, “your husband has been my guest.” Ay, that was it––this had been Cassion’s quarters since his arrival, and this was his bag, the one he kept beside him in the canoe, his private property. My heart beat wildly in the excitement of discovery, yet there was no hesitation; instantly I was upon my knees tugging at the straps. They yielded easily, and I forced the leather aside, gaining glimpse of the contents.