He crept back silently, and I was left alone on the great rock, gazing out anxiously into the gray morning.
CHAPTER XXXV
THE CHARGE OF THE ILLINI
It seemed a long time, yet it could scarcely have exceeded a few moments, for the light of early dawn was still dim and spectral, making those savage figures below appear strange and inhuman, while, through the tree barrier, the more distant stockade was little more than a vague shadow. I could barely distinguish the sharp pointed logs, and if any guard passed, his movements were indistinguishable.
Had I not known where they were even the position of the gates would have been a mystery. Yet I lay there, my eyes peering through the cleft in the rock, every nerve in my body throbbing. All had been entrusted to me; it was to be my signal which would send De Artigny, La Forest, and their Indian allies forward. I must not fail them; I must do my part. Whatever the cost––even though it be his life––nothing could absolve me from this duty.
The Iroquois were massing toward the center, directly in front of the closed gates. The change in formation was made with all the stealthiness of Indian cunning, the warriors creeping silently behind the concealing 391 bushes, and taking up their new positions according to motions of their chiefs. Those having rifles loaded their weapons, while others drew knives and tomahawks from their belts, and held them glittering in the gray light. The white leader remained beside the big tree, paying no apparent heed to anything excepting the stockade in front. The daylight brightened, but mist clouds overhung the valley, while floating wreaths of fog drifted between the great rock and the fort gates, occasionally even obscuring the Iroquois in vaporous folds. There was no sound, no sight, of those hidden below, waiting my word. I seemed utterly alone.
Suddenly I started, lifting myself slightly, on one arm so as to see more clearly. Ay, the gates were opening, slowly at first as though the great wooden hinges made resistance; then the two leaves parted, and I had glimpse within. Two soldiers pushed against the heavy logs, and, as they opened wider, a dozen, or more men were revealed, leaning carelessly on their rifles. Boisrondet, bearing gun in the hollow of his arm stepped forward into the opening, and gazed carelessly about over the gray, mist shrouded scene.
It was evident enough he felt no suspicion that anything more serious than the usual Indian picket would be encountered. He turned and spoke to the soldiers, waiting while they shouldered their rifles, and tramped 392 forth to join him. His back was toward the fringe of wood. The arm of the white renegade shot into the air, and behind him the massed Iroquois arose to their feet, crouching behind their cover ready to spring. I reached over the rock edge, and dropped the handkerchief.