I had neglected to bar the door, and as I stood there gazing in breathless fascination, a sudden step on the floor caused me to turn in alarm. My eyes encountered those of De Tonty, who stood hat in hand.
“Tis a fair view, Madame,” he said politely. “In all my travels I have seen no nobler domain.”
“It hath a peaceful look,” I answered, still struggling with the memory. “Can it be true the savages hold the valley?”
“All too true––see, yonder, where the smoke still shows, dwelt the Kaskaskias. Not a lodge is left, and the bodies of their dead strew the ground. Along those meadows three weeks since there were the happy villages of twelve tribes of peaceful Indians; today those who yet live are fleeing for their lives.”
“And this fort, Monsieur?”
“Safe enough, I think, although no one of us can venture ten yards beyond the gate. The Rock protects us, Madame, yet we are greatly outnumbered, and 316 with no ammunition to waste. ’Twas the surprise of the raid which left us thus helpless. Could we have been given time to gather our friendly Indians together the story would be different.”
“They are not cowards then?”
“Not with proper leadership. We have seen them fight often since we invaded this land. ’Tis my thought many of them are hiding now beyond those hills, and may find some way to reach us. I suspected such an effort last night, when I sent out the rescue party which brought you in. Ah, that reminds me, Madame; you sent for me?”
“Yes, M. de Tonty. I can speak to you frankly? You are the friend of Sieur de Artigny?”
“Faith, I hope I am, Madame, but I know not what has got into the lad––he will tell me nothing.”