All about me were preparations for a permanent camp. This puzzled me for a time, but I soon worked out the reason. They were afraid to march with their full force on Michillimackinac, for they feared the friendship of the western tribes for the French, and thought that if a large war party marched openly toward the garrison these tribes would rally to Cadillac's defense. So this camp was kept as watch-dog for the western region. I prayed that Cadillac keep his judgment cool.
One thing brought smiles that I had to turn into vacant and misleading laughter. Through all the talk ran my name,—that they did not know was mine. They had heard that I was stirring among the western tribes, and that I was making them dangerous. They spoke of my knowledge of Indian tongues, and added apocryphal tales of my feats of wit and daring. My image loomed large, and it was no wonder that they did not connect this mythical Colossus with the swaggering royster who played buffoon for their mirth. I wondered that Pemaou had not told them, but I reflected that there is a mutual distrust among Indians that takes the place of reticence, and that that had saved me. I had escaped for the moment, but the ice was thin. I should be given short shrift once my name was known.
The day passed, warm and lovely in the woods and on the water, hideous and sweltering in the stench of the camp. I saw captives die of heat and flies, but I could do nothing. My men took cue from me, and we all laughed and chaffered. I even took a turn at spear throwing, but was too discreet to win. I gained some good-will, perhaps, but nothing more, and when the stars came out that night I ground my teeth to think of how little I had accomplished, and of the slender opportunity ahead.
But the next morning I saw a straw to grasp. Up to that time we had been left to the guardianship of all the camp, but the second day I saw that the huge brave to whom I was tied at night followed me incessantly. I watched, and saw that my men had similar attendants. This was a gain, as I said to Labarthe. I did not try to have connected speech with the men, but by saying a word at a time as we passed we could patch together a few sentences.
From that on I gave the day to winning my special jailer. He was an intelligent Indian and inclined to be good-humored. I amused him, and when I took a net and motioned that we go to the swamp to fish he grunted and agreed.
The swamp lay on the north of the camp, and was, I was sure, part of the great rice field on which the Malhominis had their village to the west. The swamp was flooded so that it would bear a canoe, and it teemed with fish. I took the net,—it was ingeniously woven of nettles pounded to a fibre and then spun into cords,—and showed the Indian how to swing it across an eddy and draw it under with a swift, circular sweep that would entangle any fish. I had success, and the Indian warmed to the sport and tried it himself. He could not do it; he could not get the twist of the hand that was the whole secret, and I had to show him again. He improved and grew ambitious. A few braves wandered over to look at us, but my jailer was jealous of his new accomplishment, and we took a canoe and paddled out of sight. We spent most of the day in the swamp.
That evening I went boldly to Pierre and said a few swift words. I told him to keep as near the swamp as possible, and to tell the other men to do the same. In about two days, if my plans carried, we should be able to accomplish something. In the meantime they must appear contented, and try for the confidence of their guards.
Now my plan was simple. I had in my shirt the bottle of laudanum that all traders carry, and it was my only weapon. Pierre had shown me a small flask of rum which the Indians had not discovered, and which he had had the unexpected self-control to leave untouched. I hoped that when my Indian had learned the casting of his net his vanity could be played on to invite the other Frenchmen and their guards to see his prowess, and that we should then have opportunity to treat the Indians to the laudanum-dosed rum. It was a crazy scheme, but worth a trial. If we could get possession of the canoe, there was some hope that we could make our way to the Malhominis village.
No teacher was ever more zealous than I for my net-thrower. Early the next morning I winked toward the swamp, and jerked my thumb over my shoulder. The Indian came willingly. Why should he not? I was unarmed, and he had knife and hatchet and was my peer in strength. He thought me a strange fool, but useful.
But that morning the lesson went badly. The Indian was clumsy, and being ashamed of himself, grew surly and indifferent. The sun was hot, the water dazzling, and mosquitoes rose in clouds. The Indian wanted to go back to camp, and I cudgeled my wits for expedients to keep him there.