BEYOND THE FRONTIER
[Illustration: "You kiss me! Try it, Monsieur, if you doubt how my race
repays insult". Page 80. Beyond the Frontier.]
BEYOND THE FRONTIER
A Romance of Early Days in the Middle West
By RANDALL PARRISH
Author of
"When Wilderness was King," "The Maid of the Forest," Etc.
With Frontispiece
By THE KINNEYS
A. L. BURT COMPANY
Publishers--New York
Published by Arrangements with A. C. McCLURG & Co.
Copyright
A. C. McClurg & Co.
1915
Published October, 1915
Copyrighted in Great Britain
W. F. HALL PRINTING COMPANY, CHICAGO
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I At the Home of Hugo Chevet 1
II The Choice of a Husband 16
III I Appeal for Aid 28
IV In the Palace of the Intendant 45
V The Order of La Barre 61
VI The Wife of Francois Cassion 76
VII The Two Men Meet 87
VIII I Defy Cassion 101
IX The Flames of Jealousy 115
X We Attain the Ottawa 126
XI I Gain Speech With De Artigny 136
XII On the Summit of the Bluff 148
XIII We Reach the Lake 158
XIV At St. Ignace 170
XV The Murder of Chevet 181
XVI My Pledge Saves De Artigny 192
XVII The Break of Storm 200
XVIII Alone With De Artigny 211
XIX We Exchange Confidences 223
XX I Choose My Duty 234
XXI We Decide Our Course 244
XXII We Meet With Danger 254
XXIII The Words of Love 267
XXIV We Attack the Savages 278
XXV Within the Fort 289
XXVI In De Baugis' Quarters 299
XXVII I Send for De Tonty 309
XXVIII The Court Martial 319
XXIX Condemned 330
XXX I Choose My Future 341
XXXI We Reach the River 350
XXXII We Meet Surprise 361
XXXIII Warriors of the Illini 371
XXXIV We Wait in Ambush 380
XXXV The Charge of the Illini 390
XXXVI The Clearing of Mystery 399
BEYOND THE FRONTIER
CHAPTER I
AT THE HOME OF HUGO CHEVET
It was early autumn, for the clusters of grapes above me were already
purple, and the forest leaves were tinged with red. And yet the air
was soft, and the golden bars of sun flickered down on the work in my
lap through the laced branches of the trellis. The work was but a
pretense, for I had fled the house to escape the voice of Monsieur
Cassion who was still urging my uncle to accompany him on his journey
into the wilderness. They sat in the great room before the fireplace,
drinking, and I had heard enough already to tell me there was
treachery on foot against the Sieur de la Salle. To be sure it was
nothing to me, a girl knowing naught of such intrigue, yet I had not
forgotten the day, three years before, when this La Salle, with others
of his company, had halted before the Ursuline convent, and the
sisters bade them welcome for the night. 'Twas my part to help serve,
and he had stroked my hair in tenderness. I had sung to them, and
watched his face in the firelight as he listened. Never would I forget
that face, nor believe evil of such a man. No! not from the lips of
Cassion nor even from the governor, La Barre.
I recalled it all now, as I sat there in the silence, pretending to
work, how we watched them embark in their canoes and disappear, the
Indian paddlers bending to their task, and Monsieur la Salle,
standing, bareheaded as he waved farewell. Beyond him was the dark
face of one they called De Tonty, and in the first boat a mere boy
lifted his ragged hat. I know not why, but the memory of that lad was
clearer than all those others, for he had met me in the hall and we
had talked long in the great window ere the sister came, and took me
away. So I remembered him, and his name, Rene de Artigny. And in all
those years I heard no more. Into the black wilderness they swept and
were lost to those of us at home in New France.
No doubt there were those who knew--Frontenac, Bigot, those who ruled
over us at Quebec--but 'twas not a matter supposed to interest a girl,
and so no word came to me. Once I asked my Uncle Chevet, and he
replied in anger with only a few sentences, bidding me hold my tongue;
yet he said enough so that I knew the Sieur de la Salle lived and had
built a fort far away, and was buying furs of the Indians. It was this
that brought jealousy, and hatred. Once Monsieur Cassion came and
stopped with us, and, as I waited on him and Uncle Chevet, I caught
words which told me that Frontenac was La Salle's friend, and would
listen to no charges brought against him. They talked of a new
governor; yet I learned but little, for Cassion attempted to kiss me,
and I would wait on him no more.
Then Frontenac was recalled to France, and La Barre was governor. How
pleased my Uncle Chevet was when the news came, and he rapped the
table with his glass and exclaimed: "Ah! but now we will pluck out the
claws of this Sieur de la Salle, and send him where he belongs." But
he would explain nothing, until a week later. Cassion came up the
river in his canoe with Indian paddlers, and stopped to hold
conference. The man treated me with much gallantry, so that I
questioned him, and he seemed happy to answer that La Barre had
already dispatched a party under Chevalier de Baugis, of the King's
Dragoons to take command of La Salle's Fort St. Louis in the Illinois
country. La Salle had returned, and was already at Quebec, but Cassion
grinned as he boasted that the new governor would not even give him
audience. Bah! I despised the man, yet I lingered beside him, and thus
learned that La Salle's party consisted of but two _voyageurs_, and
the young Sieur de Artigny. I was glad enough when he went away,
though I gave him my hand to kiss, and waved to him bravely at the
landing. And now he was back again, bearing a message from La Barre,
and seeking volunteers for some western voyage of profit. 'Twas of no
interest to me unless my uncle joined in the enterprise, yet I was
kind enough, for he brought with him word of the governor's ball at
Quebec, and had won the pledge of Chevet to take me there with him. I
could be gracious to him for that and it was on my gown I worked, as
the two planned and talked in secret. What they did was nothing to me
now--all my thought was on the ball. What would you? I was seventeen.
The grape trellis ran down toward the river landing, and from where I
sat in the cool shadow, I could see the broad water gleaming in the
sun. Suddenly, as my eyes uplifted, the dark outline of a canoe swept
into the vista, and the splashing paddles turned the prow inward
toward our landing. I did not move, although I watched with interest,
for it was not the time of year for Indian traders, and these were
white men. I could see those at the paddles, voyageurs, with gay
cloths about their heads; but the one in the stern wore a hat, the
brim concealing his face, and a blue coat. I knew not who it could be
until the prow touched the bank, and he stepped ashore. Then I knew,
and bent low over my sewing, as though I had seen nothing, although my
heart beat fast. Through lowered lashes I saw him give brief order to
the men, and then advance toward the house alone. Ah! but this was not
the slender, laughing-eyed boy of three years before. The wilderness
had made of him a man--a soldier. He paused an instant to gaze about,
and held his hat in his hand, the sun touching his tanned cheeks, and
flecking the long, light-colored hair. He looked strong and manly in
his tightly buttoned jacket, a knife at his belt, a rifle grasped
within one hand. There was a sternness to his face too, although it
lit up in a smile, as the searching eyes caught glimpse of my white
dress in the cool shade of the grape arbor. Hat still in hand he came
toward me, but I only bent the lower, as though I knew nothing of his
approach, and had no interest other than my work.
"Mademoiselle," he said gently, "pardon me, but is not this the home
of Hugo Chevet, the fur trader?"
I looked up into his face, and bowed, as he swept the earth with his
hat, seeing at a glance that he had no remembrance of me.
"Yes," I answered. "If you seek him, rap on the door beyond."
"'Tis not so much Chevet I seek," he said, showing no inclination to
pass me, "but one whom I understood was his guest--Monsieur Francois
Cassion."
"The man is here," I answered quickly, yet unable to conceal my
surprise, "but you will find him no friend to Sieur de la Salle."
"Ah!" and he stared at me intently. "In the name of the saints, what
is the meaning of this? You know me then?"
I bowed, yet my eyes remained hidden.
"I knew you once as Monsieur's friend," I said, almost regretting my
indiscretion, "and have been told you travel in his company."
"You knew me once!" he laughed. "Surely that cannot be, for never
would I be likely to forget. I challenge you, Mademoiselle to speak my
name."
"The Sieur Rene de Artigny, Monsieur."
"By my faith, the witch is right, and yet in all this New France I
know scarce a maid. Nay look up; there is naught to fear from me, and
I would see if memory be not new born. Saint Giles! surely 'tis true;
I have seen those eyes before; why, the name is on my tongue, yet
fails me, lost in the wilderness. I pray you mercy, Mademoiselle!"
"You have memory of the face you say?"
"Ay! the witchery of it; 'tis like a haunting spirit."
"Which did not haunt long, I warrant. I am Adele la Chesnayne,
Monsieur."
He stepped back, his eyes on mine, questioningly. For an instant I
believed the name even brought no familiar sound; then his face
brightened, and his eyes smiled, as his lips echoed the words.
"Adele la Chesnayne! Ay! now I know. Why 'tis no less than a miracle.
It was a child I thought of under that name--a slender, brown-eyed
girl, as blithesome as a bird. No, I had not forgotten; only the magic
of three years has made of you a woman. Again and again have I
questioned in Montreal and Quebec, but no one seemed to know. At the
convent they said your father fell in Indian skirmish."
"Yes; ever since then I have lived here, with my uncle, Hugo Chevet."
"Here!" he looked about, as though the dreariness of it was first
noticed. "Alone? Is there no other woman?"
I shook my head, but no longer looked at him, for fear he might see
the tears in my eyes.
"I am the housekeeper, Monsieur. There was nothing else for me. In
France, I am told, my father's people were well born, but this is not
France, and there was no choice. Besides I was but a child of
fourteen."
"And seventeen, now, Mademoiselle," and he took my hand gallantly.
"Pardon if I have asked questions which bring pain. I can understand
much, for in Montreal I heard tales of this Hugo Chevet."
"He is rough, a woodsman," I defended, "yet not unkind to me. You will
speak him fair?"
He laughed, his eyes sparkling with merriment.
"No fear of my neglecting all courtesy, for I come beseeching a favor.
I have learned the lesson of when the soft speech wins more than the
iron hand. And this other, the Commissaire Cassion--is he a bird of
the same plumage?"
I made a little gesture, and glanced back at the closed door.
"Oh, no; he is the court courtier, to stab with words, not deeds.
Chevet is rough of speech, and hard of hand, but he fights in the
open; Cassion has a double tongue, and one never knows him." I glanced
up into his sobered face. "He is a friend of La Barre."
"So 'tis said, and has been chosen by the governor to bear message to
De Baugis in the Illinois country. I seek passage in his company."
"You! I thought you were of the party of Sieur de la Salle?"
"I am," he answered honestly, "yet Cassion will need a guide, and
there is none save myself in all New France who has ever made that
journey. 'Twill be well for him to listen to my plan. And why not? We
do not fight the orders of the governor: we obey, and wait. Monsieur
de la Salle will tell his story to the King."
"The King! to Louis?"
"Ay, 'twill not be the first time he has had audience, and already he
is at sea. We can wait, and laugh at this Cassion over his useless
journey."
"But he--he is treacherous, Monsieur."
He laughed, as though the words amused.
"To one who has lived, as I, amid savages, treachery is an old story.
The Commissaire will not find me asleep. We will serve each other, and
let it go at that. Ah! we are to be interrupted."
He straightened up facing the door, and I turned, confronting my uncle
as he emerged in advance. He was a burly man, with iron-gray hair, and
face reddened by out-of-doors; and he stopped in surprise at sight of
a stranger, his eyes hardening with suspicion.
"And who is this with whom you converse so privately, Adele?" he
questioned brusquely, "a young popinjay new to these parts I
venture."
De Artigny stepped between us, smiling in good humor.
"My call was upon you, Monsieur Chevet, and not the young lady," he
said quietly enough, yet with a tone to the voice. "I merely asked her
if I had found the right place, and if, Monsieur, the Commissaire
Cassion was still your guest."
"And what may I ask might be your business with the Commissaire
Cassion?" asked the latter, pressing past Chevet, yet bowing with a
semblance of politeness, scarcely in accord with the studied insolence
of his words. "I have no remembrance of your face."
"Then, Monsieur Cassion is not observant," returned the younger man
pleasantly, "as I accompanied the Sieur de la Salle in his attempt to
have audience with the governor."
"Ah!" the word of surprise exploded from the lips. "_Sacre!_ 'tis
true! My faith, what difference clothes make. I mistook you for a
_courier du bois_."
"I am the Sieur Rene de Artigny."
"Lieutenant of La Salle's?"
"Scarcely that, Monsieur, but a comrade; for three years I have been
with his party, and was chosen by him for this mission."
Cassion laughed, chucking the gloomy-faced Chevet in the side, as
though he would give point to a good joke.
"And little the trip hither has profited either master or man, I
warrant. La Barre does not sell New France to every adventurer.
Monsieur de la Salle found different reception in Quebec than when
Frontenac ruled this colony. Where went the fur-stealer?"
"To whom do you refer?"
"To whom? Heaven help us, Chevet, the man would play nice with words.
Well, let it go, my young cock, and answer me."
"You mean the Sieur de la Salle?"
"To be sure; I called him no worse than I have heard La Barre speak.
They say he has left Quebec; what more know you?"
"'Tis no secret, Monsieur," replied De Artigny quietly enough,
although there was a flash in his eyes, as they met mine. "The Sieur
de la Salle has sailed for France."
"France! Bah! you jest; there has been no ship outward bound."
"The _Breton_ paused at St. Roche, held by the fog. When the fog
lifted there was a new passenger aboard. By dawn the Indian paddlers
had me landed in Quebec."
"Does La Barre know?"
"Faith! I could not tell you that, as he has not honored me with
audience."
Cassion strode back and forth, his face dark with passion. It was not
pleasant news he had been told, and it was plain enough he understood
the meaning.
"By the saints!" he exclaimed. "'Tis a sly fox to break through our
guard so easily. Ay, and 'twill give him a month to whisper his lies
to Louis, before La Barre can forward a report. But, _sacre!_ my young
chanticleer, surely you are not here to bring me this bit of news. You
sought me, you said? Well, for what purpose?"
"In peace, Monsieur. Because I have served Sieur de la Salle loyally
is no reason why we should be enemies. We are both the King's men, and
may work together. The word has come to me that you head a party for
the Illinois, with instructions for De Baugis at Fort St. Louis. Is
this true?"
Cassion bowed coldly, waiting to discover how much more his questioner
knew.
"Ah, then I am right thus far. Well, Monsieur, 'twas on that account I
came, to volunteer as guide."
"You! 'Twould be treachery."
"Oh, no; our interests are the same so far as the journey goes. I
would reach St. Louis; so would you. Because we may have different
ends in view, different causes to serve, has naught to do with the
trail thither. There is not a man who knows the way as well as I. Four
times have I traveled it, and I am not a savage, Monsieur--I am a
gentleman of France."
"And you pledge your word?"
"I pledge my word--to guide you safe to Fort St. Louis. Once there I
am comrade to Sieur de la Salle."
"Bah! I care not who you comrade with, once you serve my purpose. I
take your offer, and if you play me false--"
"Restrain your threats, Monsieur Cassion. A quarrel will get us
nowhere. You have my word of honor; 'tis enough. Who will compose the
party?"
Cassion hesitated, yet seemed to realize the uselessness of deceit.
"A dozen or more soldiers of the Regiment of Picardy, some _couriers
du bois_, and the Indian paddlers. There will be four boats."
"You go by the Ottawa, and the lakes?"
"Such were my orders."
"'Tis less fatiguing, although a longer journey; and the time of
departure?"
Cassion laughed, as he turned slightly, and bowed to me.
"We leave Quebec before dawn Tuesday," he said gaily. "It is my wish
to enjoy once more the follies of civilization before plunging into
the wilderness. The Governor permits that we remain to his ball.
Mademoiselle la Chesnayne does me the honor of being my guest on that
occasion."
"I, Monsieur!" I exclaimed in surprise at his boastful words. "'Twas
my uncle who proposed--"
"Tut, tut, what of that?" he interrupted in no way discomposed. "It is
my request which opens the golden gates. The good Hugo here but looks
on at a frivolity for which he cares nothing. 'Tis the young who
dance. And you, Monsieur de Artigny, am I to meet you there also, or
perchance later at the boat landing?"
The younger man seemed slow in response, but across Cassion's shoulder
our eyes met. I know not what he saw in the glance of mine, for I gave
no sign, yet his face brightened, and his words were carelessly
spoken.
"At the ball, Monsieur. 'Tis three years since I have danced to
measure, but it will be a joy to look on, and thus keep company with
Monsieur Chevet. Nor shall I fail you at the boats: until then,
Messieurs," and he bowed hat in hand, "and to you, Mademoiselle,
adieu."
We watched him go down the grape arbor to the canoe, and no one spoke
but Cassion.
"_Pouf!_ he thinks well of himself, that young cockerel, and 'twill
likely be my part to clip his spurs. Still 'tis good policy to have
him with us, for 'tis a long journey. What say you, Chevet?"
"That he is one to watch," answered my uncle gruffly. "I trust none of
La Salle's brood."
"No, nor I, for the matter of that, but I am willing to pit my brains
against the best of them. Francois Cassion is not likely to be caught
asleep, my good Hugo."
He turned about, and glanced questioningly into my face.
"And so, Mademoiselle, it did not altogether please you to be my guest
at the ball? Perchance you preferred some other gallant?"
The sunlight, flickering through the leaves, rested on his face, and
brought out the mottled skin of dissipation, the thin line of his
cruel lips, the insolent stare of his eyes. I felt myself shrink,
dreading he might touch me; yet dominating all else was the thought of
De Artigny--the message of his glance, the secret meaning of his
pledge--the knowledge that he would be there. So I smiled, and made
light of his suspicion.
"It was but surprise, Monsieur," I said gaily "for I had not dreamed
of such an honor. 'Tis my wish to go; see, I have been working on a
new gown, and now I must work the faster."
I swept him a curtsey, smiling to myself at the expression of his
face, and before he could speak had disappeared within. Bah! I would
escape those eyes and be alone to dream.