WE MEET SURPRISE
Not until we had felt carefully from wall to wall did we admit our disappointment. There were no overshadowing trees here, and what small glimmer of light came from the dull skies found reflection on river and rocks, so that we could perceive each other, and gain dim view of our surroundings.
Of the canoe there was absolutely no trace, and, if arms had been hidden there also, they had likewise disappeared. The very fact that the door stood wide open, its wooden lock broken, told the story clearly. I remained silent, staring about through the semi-darkness of the interior, rendered speechless by a feeling of utter helplessness. De Artigny, after an utterance of disappointment, felt his way along the walls; as he came back to the open door our eyes met, and he must have read despair in mine, for he smiled encouragingly.
“Swept bare, little girl,” he said. “Not so much as an ounce of powder left. The savages got here before us, it seems. Never mind; we shall have to travel a ways on woodcraft, and it will not be the first 362 wilderness journey I have made without arms. Did De Tonty mention to you where he believed the Illini were in hiding?”
“No, Monsieur––are they Indians?”
“Yes; the river tribes, the most loyal of all to La Salle. It was one of their villages we saw on the bank of the stream as we approached the fort from the west, I told Boisrondet that it stood there deserted, but not destroyed, and it was our judgment the inhabitants were hiding among the river bluffs. Without canoes they could not travel far, and are probably concealed out yonder. If we can find them our greatest peril is past.”
“They are friendly?”
“Ay, and have never shed white blood. I know them well, and with leadership they would be a match even for the Iroquois. De Tonty led them once against these same warriors, and they fought like fiends. Come, we will follow the stream, and see if we cannot find trace of their covert.”
It was but a cluster of rocks where the hut stood, and a few yards below we found the forest creeping down to the very bank of the river. The sky had lightened above us, the obscuring clouds opening to let the silver gleam of stars through, and we paused a moment gazing back, and upward at the vast rock on which perched the beleaguered fort. We could dimly 363 perceive the vague outline of it silhouetted against the lighter arch of sky. In massive gloom and silence it seemed to dominate the night, the grim forest sweeping up to its very walls. Not a gleam of light appeared; not a sound reached us. I felt De Artigny’s arm about me.
“I would that I really knew what was going on yonder ’neath the screen of trees,” he said gravely. “Some Indian trick, perchance, which it might be in my power to circumvent––at least bear to the lads fair warning.”
“You would risk life for that?”
“Ay, my own readily. That is a lesson of the wilderness; the duty of a comrade. But for your presence I should be climbing the hill seeking to learn the purpose of those savages––else I was no true soldier of France.”
“What think you their purpose is, Monsieur?”
“An attack in force at dawn. Those who passed us were heavily armed, and crept forward stealthily, stripped and painted for war. There were other parties, no doubt, creeping up through the woods from all sides. ’Tis my thought the hour has struck for them to make their great effort. They have scattered the friendly Indians, killed them, or driven them in terror down the river. Their villages have been destroyed. Now all the warriors who have been at 364 that business have returned, filled with blood lust, and eager to strike at the French.”
“But they cannot win? Surely they cannot capture the fort, Monsieur? Why it is all rock?”
“On three sides––yes; but to the south there is ample space for attack in force. Those woods yonder would conceal a thousand savages within a few hundred yards of the fort gates. And what of the defense? Opposing them is one hundred and fifty feet of stockade, protected at best by fifty rifles. There are no more in the fort, officers, Indians, and all; and Boisrondet says scarcely a dozen rounds of powder and ball to a man. If the Iroquois know this––and why should they not?––’twill be no great feat of arms to batter their way in. I would do that which is right, Adele, if I saw clearly.”
I clung to his hands, staring back still at the grim outline of the silent fort. I understood his thoughts, his desire to aid his comrades; but, for a moment, my mind was a blank. I could not let him go, alone, to almost certain death. No, nor would he abandon me on such a mission! Was there no other way by which we could serve? Suddenly a thought crept into my mind.
“Monsieur,” I asked breathlessly, “where do you suppose those Illini Indians to be?”
“Back from the river, in a glen of caves and rocks.”
“How far from here?”
“Four or five miles; there is a trail from the mouth of the creek.”
“And you know the way? and there might be many warriors there? they will remember you, and obey your orders?”
He straightened up, aroused as the full meaning of my questioning occurred to him.
“Ay, there is a chance there, if we find them in time, and in force enough to make foray. Sacre! I know not why such thought has not come to me before. Could we but fall on those devils from the rear in surprise, even with a third their number, they would run like cats. Mon Dieu! I thank you for the thought.”
We plunged into the forest, no longer endeavoring to advance silently, but inspired with a desire to achieve our goal as soon as possible. At the mouth of a stream entering the river, De Artigny picked me up in his arms, and waded across. On the opposite bank he sought eagerly on hands and knees for the old trace he dimly remembered. At last he stood erect.
“Ay, lass, it’s here, and to be easily followed. What hour do you make it now?”
“About three.”
“So I would have said; and ’tis not daylight until after five. We can scarce make it, yet we will try.”
It was not as dark here away from the gloom of 366 the Rock; the forest was open, and yet I will never know how De Artigny succeeded in following that dim trail at so rapid a gait. As for me I could see nothing of any path, and merely followed him blindly, not even certain of the nature of the ground under my feet. Again and again I tripped over some obstacles––a root, a tuft of grass––and continually unnoted branches flapped against my face. Once I fell prone, yet so noiselessly that Rene passed beyond view before he realized my misfortune, and returned to help me regain my feet. Not until then, I think, did he comprehend the rapidity of his movements.
“Your pardon, dear girl,” and his lips brushed my hair, as he held me in his arms. “I forgot all but our comrades yonder. The night is dark to your eyes.”
“I can see nothing,” I confessed regretfully, “yet you have no difficulty.”
“’Tis a woodsman’s training. I have followed many a dim trail in dark forests, and this is so plain I could keep to it on a run if necessary. Ah! the fort is awake and vigilant––that was rifle fire.”
I had not only heard the sharp reports, but seen the flash of fire cleaving the darkness.
“The discharges came from the woods yonder––they were Indian guns, Monsieur. See! those two last were from the stockade; I could perceive the logs in the flare.”
“Ay, and that is all; the lads will waste no ammunition in the gloom, except to tell the savages they are awake and ready.”
“How far have we traveled, Monsieur?”
“A mile, perhaps. At the crooked oak yonder we leave the stream. You met with no harm when you fell?”
“No more than a bruise. I can go on now.”
We turned to the right, and plunged into the thicket, the way now so black that I grasped his jacket in fear of becoming lost. We were clambering up a slight hill, careless of everything but our footing, when there was a sudden rustling of the low branches on either side our path. De Artigny stopped, thrusting me back, while at that very instant, indistinct forms seemed to leap forth from the covert. It occurred so quickly, so silently, that before I even realized danger, he was struggling madly with the assailants. I heard the crash of blows, an oath of surprise, a guttural exclamation, a groan of pain. Hands gripped me savagely; I felt naked bodies, struggled wildly to escape, but was flung helplessly to the ground, a hand grasping my hair. I could see nothing only a confused mass of legs and arms, but De Artigny was still on his feet, struggling desperately. From some hand he had grabbed a rifle, and swung it crashing into the faces of those grappling him. Back he came step by step, 368 fighting like a fiend, until he stood over me. With one wide sweep of his clutched weapon he struck me free, a blow which shattered the gun stock, and left him armed only with the iron bar. But the battle fury was on him; dimly I could see him towering above me, bareheaded, his clothes torn to rags, the grim barrel poised for a blow.
“St. Ann!” he cried exultantly. “’Tis a good fight so far––would you have more of it?”
“Hold!” broke in a French voice from out the darkness. “What means this? Are you of white blood?”
“I have always supposed so.”
“A renegade consorting with devils of the Iroquois?”
“Mon Dieu! No! an officer of Fort St. Louis.”
I could see the white man thrust aside the Indian circle, and strike through. His face was invisible, although I was upon my knees now, but he was a short, heavily built fellow.
“Stand back! ay, make room. Saint Guise, we are fighting our own friends. If you are of the garrison name yourself.”
De Artigny, still clasping his rifle barrel, reached out his other hand, and lifted me to my feet.
“Perchance,” he said coolly, “if I were a stickler for etiquette, I might ask you first for some explanation 369 of this attack. However, we have made some heads ring, so I waive that privilege. I am the Sieur de Artigny, a lieutenant of La Salle’s.”
“Mon Dieu!” the other stepped forward, his hand outstretched. “’Tis no unknown name to me, although we have never before met by some chance––I am Francois de la Forest.”
“La Forest! You were in France three months ago.”
“Aye; I was there when Sieur de la Salle landed. He told me the whole tale. I was with him when he had audience with Louis. I am here now bearing the orders of the King, countersigned by La Barre at Quebec, restoring De Tonty to command at Fort St. Louis, and bidding De Baugis and that fool Cassion return to New France.”
De Artigny crushed the man’s hand in both his own, dropping the rifle barrel to the ground. His voice trembled as he made answer.
“He won the King’s favor? he convinced Louis?”
“No doubt of that––never saw I a greater miracle.”
“And the Sieur de la Salle––has he returned?”
“Nay; he remains in France, to fit out an expedition to sail for the mouth of the Great River. He hath special commission from the King. To me was given the honor of bearing his message. Ah! but La Barre 370 raved like a mad bull when I handed him the King’s order. I thought he would burst a blood vessel, and give us a new governor. But no such luck. Pah! I stood there, struggling to keep a straight face, for he had no choice but obey. ’Twas a hard dose to swallow, but there was Louis’ orders in his own hand, all duly sealed; and a command that I be dispatched hither with the message.”
“How made you the journey in so short a time?”
“Overland from Detroit, the same trail you traveled with La Salle; ’tis much the shorter.”
“Alone?”
“With two courier de bois; they are with me now. But what is this De Artigny you have with you––a woman?”