“It is well; we will await you,” said the General.
CHAPTER VIII
BY LAND
The dawn had hardly broken over the land when a low prolonged whistle intimated to General Montcalm and his party that Charles Langlade, true to his promise, awaited them. The cold was intense, more especially to those born and bred in the sunny plains of Provence, and Mercèdes and her foster-mother Marthe, notwithstanding all their resolution, shivered under their thick furs, as they stood on the deck of the Licorne for the last time. Charles Langlade leapt on board, saluted the General and his officers, and then, turning to Mercèdes, said,—
“You are still quite decided to make the venture, Mademoiselle?”
“Quite,” she answered in a clear, sweet voice, which struck like the notes of a silver bell on the Canadian’s ear.
“It is well,” he answered. “I think we shall be fortunate. Snow has fallen all night; it is freezing now; travelling will be easier than I expected.” He left her, and helped to hand what little luggage the travellers ventured to take with them into the canoe. No Indians had accompanied him on the present occasion; he had only brought his faithful John Stone, who had rarely left him since together they had bidden adieu to New England.
He was standing up in the canoe now, ready to receive the strangers. Mercèdes was the first to be lowered; Marthe, Estève, and the two servants followed. The General lingered to say a few parting words to the officers he left in command; then he, too, dropped into the canoe, and took his place beside his daughter. A few seconds later the canoe was paddled to the shore.
“Excuse me, Mademoiselle,” said Charles Langlade, and quietly he took Mercèdes in his arms and leapt on land with her. John Stone did as much for Marthe. Two Indians were awaiting them; one picked up the canoe, the other the luggage, and all disappeared in the direction of the forest. It was the middle of April, but the land was still snow-bound, though the thaw which had set in had begun to loosen the ice on the lakes and rivers: it had been an unusually severe and prolonged winter.
Charles Langlade produced snowshoes for the party, and having duly adjusted them they started.
“As soon as we have crossed the forest we shall gain the open country for some miles,” Charles explained to the General, “and sleighs will then carry us rapidly over the ground.” But after their long confinement on the ship, the travellers found walking for miles over the snow-covered ground so fatiguing that, after a couple of hours’ march, they were obliged to rest before entering the forest. A clearance was made, a huge fire lighted, round which they all gathered, wrapped in skins and blankets to protect them from the cold winds. Mercèdes was so exhausted that, after partaking of some food, she lay with her head on her father’s shoulder and fell asleep.