And we moved so slowly, struggling upward against the current, for the Indians were resting, and the less expert hands of soldiers were wielding the paddles, urged on by Cassion, who had relieved Chevet at the steering oar. The harsh tones of his voice, and the heavy breathing of the laboring men alone broke the 106 solemn stillness. I sat up, my body aching from the awkward position in which I lay, and endeavored to discern the other canoes.
Behind us stretched a space of straight water, and one canoe was close, while the second was barely visible along a curve of the shore. Ahead, however, the river appeared vacant, the leading boat having vanished around a wooded bend. My eyes met those of Cassion, and the sight of him instantly restored me to a recollection of my plan––nothing could be gained by open warfare. I permitted my lips to smile, and noted instantly the change of expression in his face.
“I have slept well, Monsieur,” I said pleasantly, “for I was very tired.”
“’Tis the best way on a boat voyage,” assuming his old manner, “but now the day is nearly done.”
“So late as that! You will make camp soon?”
“If that be Cap Sante yonder, ’tis like we shall go ashore beyond. Ay! see the smoke spiral above the trees; a hundred rods more and we make the turn. The fellows will not be sorry, the way they ply the paddles.” He leaned over and shook Chevet. “Time to rouse, Hugo, for we make camp. Bend to it, lads; there is food and a night’s rest waiting you around yonder point. Dig deep, and send her along.”
As we skirted the extremity of shore I saw the opening in the woods, and the gleam of a cheerful fire 107 amid green grass. The advance canoe swung half-hidden amid the overhanging roots of a huge pine tree, and the men were busily at work ashore. To the right they were already erecting a small tent, its yellow canvas showing plainly against the leafy background of the forest. As we circled the point closely, seeking the still water, we could perceive Altudah standing alone on a flat rock, his red blanket conspicuous as he pointed out the best place for landing. As we nosed into the bank, our sharp bow was grasped by waiting Indians and drawn safely ashore. I reached my feet, stiffened, and scarcely able to move my limbs, but determined to land without the aid of Cassion, whose passage forward was blocked by Chevet’s huge bulk. As my weight rested on the edge of the canoe, De Artigny swung down from behind the chief, and extended his hand.
“A slight spring,” he said, “and you land with dry feet; good! now let me lift you––so.”
I had but the instant; I knew that, for I heard Cassion cry out something just behind me, and, surprised as I was by the sudden appearance of De Artigny, I yet realized the necessity for swift speech.
“Monsieur,” I whispered. “Do not talk, but listen. You would serve me?”