"I have heard nothing good of it, _monsieur_," I said fearfully.
"Humph; I don't doubt it. And mind you, Jean, for myself, I do not
like that kind of business. But after all 'tis the trade over the
Doom Trail which keeps you and me in our jobs. Without it--well,
this post would shut down. And they do say at Quebec that if we can
start a revolution in England for this Pretender of theirs and war at
the same time, we shall be able to take the whole continent from
them."
"And who is this emissary you spoke of?" I asked, thinking to extract
more information from the bibulous Joncaire.
"Not of your----"
There was a commotion at the door.
"Bind the Indian," shouted a voice in French. "Hah, I thought so!
We meet again, Ormerod!"
De Veulle stood on the threshold, his rifle leveled at my breast.
"Bring the Indian inside here," he called behind him. "We'll have a
look at him in the light."
A group of Cahnuagas, frightfully painted, with their grotesque
bristling feather headdresses, hustled Ta-wan-ne-ars into the room.
But now Joncaire asserted himself.
"What do you mean by this, Monsieur de Veulle?" he demanded with a
cold displeasure which showed no signs of his recent indulgences.
"This man is a forest-runner, Jean Courbevoir, a messenger from de
Tonty. The Indian is a Messesague--as you should see by his paint
and bead-work."
"Bah!" sneered de Veulle. "They fooled you. The Indian is
Ta-wan-ne-ars, of the Seneca Wolves, War Chief of the Iroquois. The
white man is Harry Ormerod, an English spy and a deserter from the
Jacobites. He was stationed in Paris for some years, and recently
was sent to New York. Burnet, the Governor of New York, dispatched
him here to spy out what you were doing. 'Twas fortunate I had an
errand to Jagara, for he seems to have deluded you completely."
"That may be so," assented Joncaire; "but it happens that I command
here. These men are my prisoners. You will order your Indians from
the room. François, get your musket and stand guard."
De Veulle drew a paper from a pocket inside his leather shirt and
presented it to Joncaire with irritating deliberation.
"Here," he said, "you will find my warrant from the King himself to
exercise what powers I deem necessary along the frontier. Only the
governor-general may overrule me."
Joncaire studied the paper.
"That is so," he admitted. "But I tell you this, de Veulle, you have
a bad record on the frontier for a trouble-maker. But for you I
should have had the Senecas and Onondagas in our interest before
this. I write to Quebec by the first post, demanding a check upon
your activities. We have too much at stake to permit you to
jeopardize it."
"At De-o-nun-de-ga-a it is known that Ta-wan-ne-ars and his brother
Ormerod journeyed to Jagara," interposed the Seneca in his own
language. "Does Joncaire think the Senecas will be quiet when one of
their chiefs is given up to the Keepers of the Doom Trail for
torment?"
"The Senecas will be told that you never reached Jagara," replied de
Veulle before Joncaire could speak.
"I will have nothing to do with it," declared the commandant of the
post. "Spies they may be, and as such they may be imprisoned; but I
will have nothing to do with turning them over to the Keepers. De
Veulle, this is on your own head."
"I am content," said de Veulle with a mocking smile.
Joncaire turned to me.
"Well, my Jean," he said soberly, "whatever your name may be, you
have gotten yourself into a nasty mess. You will be lucky if you die
quickly. This is what comes of trying to fool old Papa Joncaire."
"You will admit that I fooled you," I replied as lightly as I could.
"You did," he conceded, "and you are nearly the first."
"Will you do me a favor in memory of Arles--I have really visited
that renowned city--_monsieur_?"
"Gladly."
"Get word sometime to Peter Corlaer that I fooled you, and 'twas no
fault of mine I was taken."
He clapped me on the back.
"That's the spirit, _mon brave_! I'll do it without fail. And my
advice to you is to pick the first chance to die, no matter how it
may be. These Keepers--_peste_! They are a bad lot. They are
artists in torment. 'Tis part of their religion, which I will say
they still practise, even though Père Hyacinthe were to excommunicate
me."
"Better not let the worthy priest hear you," admonished de Veulle
with his mocking smile. "Have you finished your homily and last word
to the condemned?"
"I have finished my last word to you," snarled Joncaire.
"Perhaps, _monsieur_," I said, "you have never chanced to hear of a
certain duel with small-swords in the ----"
De Veulle struck me with all his strength across the mouth.
"Here," he called to the waiting Cahnuagas, "bind him--and make a
sure job of it. Be not careful of his comfort."
Joncaire looked him up and down with indescribable contempt.
"There is a bad air in here, Monsieur Englishman," he said. "Even
the company of that ass de Lery is preferable to this miserable
person. I bid you adieu."
But as he was about to climb the stairs de Lery had ascended, de
Veulle called him back.
"One moment! Speaking officially, Monsieur de Joncaire, I desire you
to send out belts to all friendly tribes, summoning them to a
council-fire which will be held here by the King's command in August."
Joncaire bowed.
"It shall be done," he said.
"Now then"--de Veulle addressed me--"we will consider your case. Are
the bonds sufficiently tight?"
I had been bound with strips of rawhide which cut into every muscle.
The question was superfluous.
"Pick them up," he said to the Cahnuagas. "We will get back to the
canoes."
One of the Keepers objected, seeming to suggest that they rest the
night at least; but de Veulle silenced him with a frown.
"We start at once," he said. "There will be time to rest after we
are out in the lake."
Ta-wan-ne-ars and I were slung like sacks of grain each upon the
shoulders of a pair of warriors and so carried past several
phlegmatically interested French soldiers to the bank of the river.
Here we were laid carefully in the bottoms of separate canoes, which
were shoved out into the swirling current and borne swiftly
down-stream into the spreading waters of the Cadarakui Lake.
Despite the tightness of my bonds and the numbness they induced, I
fell asleep, rocked by the easy motion of the canoe as it was driven
along by the powerful arms of the Cahnuagas, who crouched in line,
one behind the other, their paddles dipping in and out of the water
like tireless machines.