I DEFY CASSION
Our progress was slow against the swift current of the St. Lawrence,
and we kept close to the overhanging bank, following the guidance of
the leading canoe. We were the second in line, and no longer
over-crowded, so that I had ample room to rest at ease upon a pile of
blankets, and gaze about me with interest on the changing scene.
Cassion, encouraged possibly by my permitting his attendance down the
bank, found seat near me, and endeavored to converse; but, although I
tried to prove cordial, realizing now that to anger the man would only
add to my perplexity, his inane remarks tried me so that I ceased
reply, and we finally lapsed into silence. Chevet, who held the
steering oar, asked him some questions, which led to a brisk argument,
and I turned away my head, glad enough to escape, and be permitted the
luxury of my own thoughts.
How beautifully desolate it all was; with what fresh delight each
new vista revealed itself. The wild life, the love of wilderness and
solitude, was in my blood, and my nature responded to the charm
of our surroundings. I was the daughter of one ever attracted by
the frontier, and all my life had been passed amid primitive
conditions--the wide out-of-doors was my home, and the lonely
places called me. The broad, rapid sweep of the river up which we
won our slow passage, the great beetling cliffs dark in shadows,
and crowned by trees, the jutting rocks whitened by spray, the
headlands cutting off all view ahead, then suddenly receding to
permit of our circling on into the unknown--here extended a panorama
of which I could never tire.
My imagination swept ahead into the mystery which awaited us in that
vast wilderness toward which we journeyed--the dangerous rivers, the
portages, the swift rush of gleaming water, the black forests, the
plains of waving grass, the Indian villages, and those immense lakes
along whose shores we were destined to find way. All this possibility
had come to me so unexpectedly, with such suddenness, that even yet I
scarcely realized that my surroundings were real. They seemed more a
dream than an actual fact, and I was compelled to concentrate my mind
on those people about me before I could clearly comprehend the
conditions under which I lived.
Yet here was reality enough: the Indian paddlers, stripped to the
waist, their bodies glistening, as with steady, tireless strokes, they
forced our canoe forward, following relentlessly the wake of the
speeding boat ahead; the little group of soldiers huddled in the bows,
several sleeping already, the others amusing themselves with game of
cards; while just in front of me sat the priest, his fingers clasping
an open book, but his eyes on the river. The silhouette of his face,
outlined beyond his black hood, seemed carved from stone, it was so
expressionless and hard. There was something so sinister about it that
I felt a chill run through me, and averted my eyes, only to encounter
the glance of Cassion beside me, who smiled, and pointed out a huge
terrace of rock which seemed a castle against the blue of the sky. I
think he told me the fanciful name the earlier explorers had given the
point, and related some legend with which it was connected, but my
mind was not on his tale, and soon he ceased effort to entertain me,
and his head nodded sleepily.
I turned to glance back beyond the massive figure of Chevet at the
steering oar, to gain glimpse of the canoes behind. The first was well
up, so that even the faces of its occupants were revealed, but the
second was but a black shapeless thing in the distance, a mere blotch
upon the waters.
Ahead of us, now sweeping around the point like a wild bird, amid a
smother of spray, appeared the advance canoe. As it disappeared I
could distinguish De Artigny at the stern, his coat off, his hands
grasping a paddle. Above the point once more and in smoother water, I
was aware that he turned and looked back, shading his eyes from the
sun. I could not but wonder what he thought, what possible suspicion
had come to him, regarding my presence in the company. There was no
way in which he could have learned the truth, for there had been no
communication between him and those who knew the facts.
Never would he conceive so wild a thought as my marriage to Cassion.
He might, indeed, believe that some strange, sudden necessity had
compelled me to accompany them on this adventure, or he might suspect
that I had deceived him, knowing all the time that I was to be of the
party. I felt the shame of it bring the red blood into my cheeks, and
my lips pressed together in firm resolve. I should tell him, tell him
all; and he must judge my conduct from my own words, and not those of
another. In some manner I must keep him away from Cassion--ay, and
from Chevet--until opportunity came for me to first communicate with
him.
I was a woman, and some instinct of my nature told me that Sieur de
Artigny held me in high esteem. And his was the disposition and the
training to cause the striking of a blow first. That must not be, for
now I was determined to unravel the cause for Cassion's eagerness to
marry, and La Barre's willing assistance, and to accomplish this end
there could be no quarreling between us.
The weariness of the long night conquered even my brain, the steady
splash of the paddles becoming a lullaby. Insensibly my head rested
back against the pile of blankets, the glint of sunshine along the
surface of the water vanished as my lashes fell, and, before I knew
it, I slept soundly. I awoke with the sun in the western sky, so low
down as to peep at me through the upper branches of trees lining the
bank. Our surroundings had changed somewhat, the shores being no
longer steep, and overhung with rocks, but only slightly uplifted, and
covered with dense, dark woods, somber and silent. Their shadows
nearly met in midstream, giving to the scene a look of desolation and
gloom, the water sweeping on in sullen flow, without sparkle, or
gaiety. Our boat clung close to the west shore, and I could look long
distances through the aisles of trees into the silent gloom beyond.
Not a leaf rustled, not a wild animal moved in the coverts. It was
like an abode of death.
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 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 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?"
"Ay!"
"Then ask nothing, and above all do not quarrel with Cassion. I will
tell you everything the moment I can see you safely alone. Until then
do not seek me. I have your word?"
He did not answer, for the Commissaire grasped my arm, and thrust
himself in between us, his action so swift that the impact of his body
thrust De Artigny back a step. I saw the hand of the younger man close
on the knife hilt at his belt, but was quick enough to avert the hot
words burning his lips.
"A bit rough, Monsieur Cassion," I cried laughing merrily, even as I
released my arm. "Why so much haste? I was near falling, and it was
but courtesy which led the Sieur de Artigny to extend me his hand. It
does not please me for you to be ever seeking a quarrel."
There must have been that in my face which cooled him, for his hand
fell, and his thin lips curled into sarcastic smile.
"If I seemed hasty," he exclaimed, "it was more because I was blocked
by that boor of a Chevet yonder, and it angered me to have this young
gamecock ever at hand to push in. What think you you were employed
for, fellow--an esquire of dames? Was there not work enough in the
camp yonder, that you must be testing your fancy graces every time a
boat lands?"
There was no mild look in De Artigny's eyes as he fronted him, yet he
held his temper, recalling my plea no doubt, and I hastened to step
between, and furnish him excuse for silence.
"Surely you do wrong to blame the young man, Monsieur, as but for his
aid I would have slipped yonder. There is no cause for hard words, nor
do I thank you for making me a subject of quarrel. Is it my tent they
erect yonder?"
"Ay," there was little graciousness to the tone, for the man had the
nature of a bully. "'Twas my thought that it be brought for your use;
and if Monsieur de Artigny will consent to stand aside, it will give
me pleasure to escort you thither."
The younger man's eyes glanced from the other's face into mine, as
though seeking reassurance. His hat was instantly in his hand, and he
stepped backward, bowing low.
"The wish of the lady is sufficient," he said quietly, and then stood
again erect, facing Cassion. "Yet," he added slowly, "I would remind
Monsieur that while I serve him as a guide, it is as a volunteer, and
I am also an officer of France."
"Of France? Pah! of the renegade La Salle."
"France has no more loyal servant, Monsieur Cassion in all this
western land--nor is he renegade, for he holds the Illinois at the
King's command."
"Held it--yes; under Frontenac, but not now."
"We will not quarrel over words, yet not even in Quebec was it claimed
that higher authority than La Barre's had led to recall. Louis had
never interfered, and it is De Tonty, and not De Baugis who is in
command at St. Louis by royal order. My right to respect of rank is
clearer than your own, Monsieur, so I beg you curb your temper."
"You threaten me?"
"No; we who live in the wilderness do not talk, we act. I obey your
orders, do your will, on this expedition, but as a man, not a slave.
In all else we stand equal, and I accept insult from no living man.
'Tis well that you know this, Monsieur."
The hat was back upon his head, and he had turned away before Cassion
found answering speech. It was a jaunty, careless figure, disappearing
amid the trees, the very swing of his shoulders a challenge, nor did
he so much as glance about to mark the effect of his insolent words.
For the instant I believed Cassion's first thought was murder, for he
gripped a pistol in his hand, and flung one foot forward, an oath
sputtering between his lips. Yet the arrant coward in him conquered
even that mad outburst of passion, and before I could grasp his arm in
restraint, the impulse had passed, and he was staring after the slowly
receding figure of De Artigny, his fingers nerveless.
"_Mon Dieu_--no! I'll show the pup who is the master," he muttered.
"Let him disobey once, and I'll stretch his dainty form as I would an
Indian cur."
"Monsieur," I said, drawing his attention to my presence. "'Tis of no
interest to me your silly quarrel with Sieur de Artigny. I am weary
with the boat journey, and would rest until food is served."
"But you heard the young cockerel! What he dared say to me?"
"Surely; and were his words true?"
"True! what mean you? That he would resist my authority?"
"That he held commission from the King, while your only authority was
by word of the Governor? Was it not by Royal Orders that La Salle was
relieved of command?"
Cassion's face exhibited embarrassment, yet he managed to laugh.
"A mere boast the boy made, yet with a grain of truth to bolster it.
La Barre acted with authority, but there has not been time for his
report to be passed upon by Louis. No doubt 'tis now upon the sea."
"And now for this reason to lay his cause before the King, the Sieur
de la Salle, sailed for France."
"Yes, but too late; already confirmation of La Barre's act is en route
to New France. The crowing cockerel yonder will lose his spurs. But
come, 'tis useless to stand here discussing this affair. Let me show
you how well your comfort has been attended to."
I walked beside him among the trees, and across the patch of grass to
where the tent stood against a background of rock. The Indians and
soldiers in separate groups were busied about their fires, and I could
distinguish the chief, with Chevet, still beside the canoes, engaged
in making them secure for the night. The evening shadows were
thickening about us, and the gloom of the woods extended already
across the river to the opposite shore.
De Artigny had disappeared, although I glanced about in search for
him, as Cassion drew aside the tent flap, and peered within. He
appeared pleased at the way in which his orders had been executed.
"'Tis very neat, indeed, Monsieur," I said pleasantly, glancing
inside. "I owe you my thanks."
"'Twas brought for my own use," he confessed, encouraged by my
graciousness, "for as you know, I had no previous warning that you
were to be of our party. Please step within."
I did so, yet turned instantly to prevent his following me. Already I
had determined on my course of action, and now the time had come for
me to speak him clearly; yet now that I had definite purpose in view
it was no part of my game to anger the man.
"Monsieur," I said soberly. "I must beg your mercy. I am but a girl,
and alone. It is true I am your wife by law, but the change has come
so suddenly that I am yet dazed. Surely you cannot wish to take
advantage, or make claim upon me, until I can bid you welcome. I
appeal to you as a gentleman."
He stared into my face, scarcely comprehending all my meaning.
"You would bar me without? You forbid me entrance?"
"Would you seek to enter against my wish?"
"But you are my wife; that you will not deny! What will be said,
thought, if I seek rest elsewhere?"
"Monsieur, save for Hugo Chevet, none in this company know the story
of that marriage, or why I am here. What I ask brings no stain upon
you. 'Tis not that I so dislike you, Monsieur, but I am the daughter
of Pierre la Chesnayne, and 'tis not in my blood to yield to force. It
will be best to yield me respect and consideration."
"You threatened me yonder--before La Barre."
"I spoke wildly, in anger. That passion has passed--now I appeal to
your manhood."
He glanced about, to assure himself we were alone.
"You are a sly wench," he said, laughing unpleasantly, "but it may be
best that I give you your own way for this once. There is time enough
in which to teach you my power. And so you shut the tent to me, fair
lady, in spite of your pledge to Holy Church. Ah, well! there are
nights a plenty between here and St. Ignace, and you will become
lonely enough in the wilderness to welcome me. One kiss, and I leave
you."
"No, Monsieur."
His eyes were ugly.
"You refuse that! _Mon Dieu!_ Do you think I play? I will have the
kiss--or more."
Furious as the man was I felt no fear of him, merely an intense
disgust that his hands should touch me, an indignation that he should
offer me such insult. He must have read all this in my eyes, for he
made but the one move, and I flung his hand aside as easily as though
it had been that of a child. I was angry, so that my lips trembled,
and my face grew white, yet it was not the anger that stormed.
"Enough, Monsieur--go!" I said, and pointed to where the fires
reddened the darkness. "Do not dare speak to me again this night."
An instant he hesitated, trying to muster courage, but the bully in
him failed, and with an oath, he turned away, and vanished. It was
nearly dark then, and I sat down on a blanket at the entrance, and
waited, watching the figures between me and the river. I did not think
he would come again, but I did not know; it would be safer if I could
have word with Chevet. A soldier brought me food, and when he returned
for the tins I made him promise to seek my uncle, and send him to me.