"Up the stream a few strokes the Spaniards had camp; not so bad a place, either, when once reached, although the current will prove difficult to overcome as we turn."
Following his guidance we deflected the boat's head, and, by hard toil at the oars, slowly effected a passage up the swift stream, keeping as close as possible along the southern shore, until, having compassed something like five hundred yards, we found before us a low-lying bank, protected by rushes, dry and thickly carpeted with grass.
"What is the stream?" I questioned, marvelling at the red tinge of the water.
"The Spaniards named it the Arkansas."
"Oh, ay! I remember, although I passed this way along the other shore. It was here some of La Salle's men made settlement near a hundred years ago, I 'm told. The stream has trend northward."
"So the Spaniards claimed to my questioning; they knew little of its upper waters, yet possessed a map placing its source a few leagues from where the Ohio joins the great river. It was yonder they were encamped when I was here before."
He pointed toward a ridge of higher ground, where two trees hung like sentinels above the bank. Madame immediately turned the prow that way, and, bending our heads low, we shot beneath their trailing branches, grounding softly on the red clay of the bank. A brief search disclosed remains of camp-fires, testimony to the Puritan's remembrance of the spot. Evidently the place had been frequently occupied, and by sizable parties, yet the marks were all ancient; we discovered no signs that any one had been there lately.
It was barely daylight, although the sun was above the horizon. A vast bank of cloud hung so dense across the eastern sky as to leave the whole scene in shadow, making the hour appear much earlier. I felt, as we searched the camp-fires, a strange uneasiness, for which I could not account—it was a premonition of approaching peril. This sense is the gift of many accustomed to border life, and compelled to rely for safety upon minute signs scarcely observable to the eyes of others. I had noticed a broken reed near where we turned into this new stream, so freshly severed as to show green from sap yet flowing, while the soft mud about the base of the big rock bore evidence of having been tramped, although the distance was so great the nature of the marks was not discernible. To be sure, native denizens of the forest might account for this, yet the sight aroused suspicion and a determination to examine more closely, while the fear of prowling enemies made me strenuous in objecting to the building of any fire with which to cook our morning meal.
The eating came to a conclusion at last, although not without grumbling, in both French and English, at being obliged to subsist on cold fare. By use of threats I succeeded in inducing the Rev. Mr. Cairnes to retire without indulging in his usual devotional exercise. Discovering De Noyan comfortably settled against a tree-trunk, pipe in mouth, already beginning to look sleepy about the eyes, I muttered in his hearing a word or two regarding a fishing trip into deeper water along the opposite shore, and, quietly leaving him to unsuspicious repose, slipped down to where our boat was tied beneath the tree shadows. As I bent, loosening the rope, I felt rather than perceived the presence of Madame upon the bank above. Turning as she addressed me, I glanced up, holding the untied rope in my hand.
"You fear Spaniards may be near," she said quickly, as if she had deciphered my hidden thought.