WE REACH THE LAKE
He was between me and the deer trail, and enough of daylight yet
remained to enable me to perceive the man clearly. How long he may
have been there observing me I could not know, but when I first saw
him he was bent forward, apparently deeply interested in some sudden
discovery upon the ground at his feet.
"You thought me long in returning, Monsieur?" I asked carelessly, and
taking a step toward him. "It was cooler up here, and the view from
the bluff yonder beautiful. You may gain some conception of it still,
if you care."
He lifted his head with a jerk, and stared into my face.
"Ay! no doubt," he said harshly, "yet I hardly think it was the view
which held you here so long. Whose boot print is this, Madame? not
yours, surely."
I glanced where he pointed, my heart leaping, yet not altogether with
regret. The young Sieur had left his trail behind, and it would serve
me whether by his will or no.
"Certainly not mine," and I laughed. "I trust, Monsieur, your powers
of observation are better than that--'tis hardly a compliment."
"Nor is this time for any lightness of speech, my lady," he retorted,
his anger fanned by my indifference. "Whose is it then, I ask you?
What man has been your companion here?"
"You jump at conclusions, Monsieur," I returned coldly. "The stray
imprint of a man's boot on the turf is scarcely evidence that I have
had a companion. Kindly stand aside, and permit me to descend."
"_Mon Dieu_! I will not!" and he blocked my passage. "I have stood
enough of your tantrums already in the boat. Now we are alone, and I
will have my say. You shall remain here until I learn the truth."
His rage rather amused me, and I felt not the slightest emotion of
fear, although there was threat in his words, and in the gesture
accompanying them. I do not think the smile even deserted my lips, as
I sought a comfortable seat on a fallen tree trunk, fully conscious
that nothing would so infuriate the man as studied indifference.
"Very well, Monsieur, I await your investigation with pleasure," I
said sweetly. "No doubt it will prove interesting. You honor me with
the suspicion that I had an appointment here with one of your men?"
"No matter what I suspicion."
"Of course not; you treat me with marked consideration. Perchance
others have camped here, and explored these bluffs."
"The print is fresh, not ancient, and none of the men from my camp
have come this way."
He strode forward, across the narrow open space, and disappeared into
the fringe of trees bordering the edge of the bluff. It would have
been easy for me to depart, to escape to the security of the tent
below, but curiosity held me motionless. I knew what he would
discover, and preferred to face the consequences where I was free to
answer him face to face. I wished him to be suspicious, to feel that
he had a rival; I would fan his jealousy to the very danger point. Nor
had I long to wait. Forth from the shade of the trees he burst, and
came toward me, his face white, his eyes blazing.
"Tis the fellow I thought," he burst forth, "and he went down the face
of the bluff yonder. So you dared to have tryst with him?"
"With whom, Monsieur?"
"De Artigny, the young fool! Do you think me blind? Did I not know you
were together in Quebec? What are you laughing at?"
"I was not laughing, Monsieur. Your ridiculous charge does not amuse
me. I am a woman; you insult me; I am your wife; you charge me with
indiscretion. If you think to win me with such cowardly insinuations
you know little of my nature. I will not talk with you, nor discuss
the matter. I return to the camp."
His hands clinched as though he had the throat of an enemy between
them, but angry as he was, some vague doubt restrained him.
"_Mon Dieu_! I'll fight the dog!"
"De Artigny, you mean? Tis his trade, I hear, and he is good at it."
"Bah! a bungler of the woods. I doubt if he ever crossed blades with a
swordsman. But mark you this, Madame, the lad feels my steel if ever
you so much as speak to him again."
There was contempt in my eyes, nor did I strive to disguise it.
"Am I your wife, Monsieur, or your slave?"
"My wife, and I know how to hold you! _Mon Dieu_! but you shall learn
that lesson. I was a fool to ever give the brat place in the boats. La
Barre warned me that he would make trouble. Now I tell you what will
occur if you play false with me."
"You may spare your threats--they weigh nothing. The Sieur de Artigny
is my friend, and I shall address him when it pleases me. With
whatever quarrel may arise between you I have no interest. Let that
suffice, and now I bid you good night, Monsieur."
He made no effort to halt me, nor to follow, and I made my way down
the darkening path, without so much as turning my head to observe his
movements. It was almost like a play to me, and I was reckless of the
consequences, intent only on my purpose.
I was awake a long time, lying alone on my blankets within the silent
tent, and staring out at the darkness. I saw Cassion descend the deer
path, perhaps an hour after I left him, and go on to the main camp
below. He made no pause as he passed, yet walked slowly as though in
thought. Where he went I could not determine in the gloom, yet was
convinced he had no purpose then of seeking De Artigny or of putting
his threat into immediate action. In all probability he believed that
his words would render me cautious, in spite of my defiant response,
and that I would avoid creating trouble by keeping away from the
younger man. He was no brawler, except as he felt safe, and this young
frontiersman was hardly the antagonist he would choose. It would be
more apt to be a blow in the dark, or an overturned canoe.
I cannot recall now that I experienced any regret for what had
occurred. Perhaps I might if I had known the end, yet I felt perfectly
justified in all my actions. I had done no conscious wrong, and was
only seeking that which was mine by every standard of justice. I knew
I despised Cassion, while my feeling's toward De Artigny were so
confused, and indefinite as to be a continual puzzle. I knew nothing
of what love was--I was merely aware that the man interested me, and
that I felt confidence in him. I recalled his words, the expression of
his face, and felt the sharp sting of his rebuke, yet all was
strangely softened by the message I had read in his eyes.
He had not approved of my course, yet in his heart had not blamed; he
would not lend himself to my purpose, yet remained no less loyal to
me. I could ask no more. Indeed, I had no wish to precipitate an open
quarrel between the two men. However it ended, such an occurrence
would serve me ill, and all that my plan contemplated was that they
should distrust each other, and thus permit me to play the one against
the other, until I won my game. I felt no fear of the result, no doubt
of my ability to manipulate the strings adroitly enough to achieve the
end sought.
The one point I ignored was the primitive passions of men. These were
beyond my control; were already beyond, although I knew it not. Fires
were smouldering in hearts which out yonder in the dark woods would
burst into flame of destruction. Innocent as my purpose was, it had in
it the germs of tragedy; but I was then too young, too inexperienced
to know.
Nor had I reason to anticipate the result of my simple ruse, or
occasion to note any serious change in my surroundings. The routine of
our journey gave me no hint of the hidden passions seething below the
outward appearance of things. In the early dawn we broke camp as
usual, except that chosen boatmen guided the emptied canoes through
the rapids, while the others of the party made portage along the rough
shore. In the smooth water above we all embarked again, and won slow
way against the current. The advance company had departed before our
arrival, nor did I again obtain glimpse of De Artigny for many days.
I would not say that Cassion purposely kept us apart, for the
arrangement might have been the same had I not been of the party, yet
the only communication between the two divisions occurred when some
messenger brought back warning of dangerous water ahead. Usually this
messenger was an Indian, but once De Artigny himself came, and guided
our canoes through a torrent of white, raging water, amid a maze of
murderous rocks.
During these days and weeks Cassion treated me with consideration and
outward respect. Not that he failed to talk freely, and to boast of
his exploits and adventures, yet he refrained from laying hand on me,
nor did he once refer to the incident of the bluff. I knew not what to
make of the man in this new rôle of gallant, yet suspicioned that he
but bided his time, and a better opportunity for exhibiting his true
purpose.
There were times, when he thought I was not observing him, when the
expression of his eyes brought me uneasiness, and I was soon aware
that, in spite of his genial manner, and friendly expression, his
surveillance was in no degree relaxed. Not for a moment was I alone.
When he was not beside me in the canoe, Père Allouez became my
companion, and at night a guard kept vigilant eye upon my tent. Twice
I ventured to test this fact, only to be halted, and turned back
within three yards of the entrance. Very polite the soldier was, with
explanation of danger from prowling beasts, and the strictness of his
order. At first such restraint angered me, but on second thought I did
not greatly care, humiliating though it was; yet the protection thus
afforded was not altogether unwelcome, and was in itself evidence of
Cassion's determination to conquer me.
Nor was the journey lacking in interest or adventure. Never shall I
forget the charm of those days and nights, amid which we made slow and
toilsome passage through the desolate wilderness, ever gaining new
leagues to the westward. Only twice in weeks did we encounter human
beings--once a camp of Indians on the shore of a lake, and once a
Capuchin monk, alone but for a single _voyageur_, as companion, passed
us upon the river. He would have paused to exchange words, but at
sight of Père Allouez's black robe, he gave swift command to his
_engagé_, and the two disappeared as though fleeing from the devil.
But what visions of beauty, and sublimity, were those that swept
constantly past us as we thus advanced into the wild depths of the
woods. No two views were ever alike, and every curve in the river bank
brought a fresh vista. I never tired of the vast, silent forests that
seemed to shut us in, nor of the dancing silver of the swift water
under our keel, nor of the great rocky bluffs under whose grim shadows
we found passage. To me the hardships even were enjoyable: the
clambering over rough portages, the occasional mishap, the coarse
fare, the nights I was compelled to pass in the canoe, these only
served to give added zest to the great adventure, to make real the
unusual experiences I was passing through.
I was scarce more than a girl, young, strong, little accustomed to
luxury, and my heart responded to the exhilaration of constant change,
and the thrill of peril. And when, at last, we made the long portage,
tramping through the dark forest aisles, bearing on our shoulders
heavy loads, scarcely able to see the sun even at midday through the
leafy screen of leaves, and came forth at twilight on the shores of
the mighty lake, no words can express the raptures with which I stood
and gazed across that expanse of heaving, restless water. The men
launched their canoes upon the surface, and made camp in the edge of
the forest, but I could not move, could not restrain my eyes, until
darkness descended and left all before me a void.
Never had I gazed upon so vast a spectacle, so somber in the dull gray
light, stretching afar to the horizon, its wild, desolate silence
adding to its awful majesty. Even when darkness enshrouded it all, the
memory haunted me, and I could but think and dream, frightened and
awed in presence of that stupendous waste of waters. The soldiers sang
about their fires, and Cassion sought me with what he meant to be
courteous words, but I was in no spirit to be amused. For hours I lay
alone, listening to the dull roar of waves along the shore, and the
wind in the trees. De Artigny, and his party, camped just beyond us,
across the mouth of a narrow stream, but I saw nothing of him, nor do
I believe I gave his presence a thought.
It was scarcely more than daybreak when we broke camp, and headed our
canoes out into the lake. With the dawn, and the glint of sunlight
over the waters, much of my dread departed, and I could appreciate the
wild song of delight with which our Indian paddlers bent to their
work. The sharp-prowed canoes swept through the waters swiftly, no
longer battling against a current, and the shore line ever in view was
fascinating in its green foliage. We kept close to the northern shore,
and soon found passage amid numerous islands, forest covered, but with
high, rocky outlines.
Of life there was no sign, and the silence of the vast primeval
wilderness surrounding us rested heavily upon me. Whether this same
sense of loneliness and awe affected the others I cannot say--yet the
savage song died away, and the soldiers sat motionless, while the
Indians plied their paddles noiselessly. Cassion even restrained his
garrulous tongue, and when I glanced at him in some surprise, he was
intent on the shores of a passing island, forgetful of my presence.
For four days we coasted thus, never out of sight of shore, and
usually with islands between us and the main body of water. In all
that time we had no sign of man--not even a wisp of smoke, nor heard
the crack of distant rifle. About us extended loneliness and
desolation, great waters never still, vast forests grim and somber,
tall, menacing rocks, bright-colored in the sun.
Once it rained, drenching us to the skin, and driving us to shelter in
an island cove. Once a sudden storm swept the lake, and we barely made
land in time to save us from wreck, Chevet's canoe smashing an ugly
hole in its bow, and a soldier dislocating his shoulder in the
struggle. The accident held us for some hours, and later, when once
more afloat, retarded progress.
This misfortune served also to restore Monsieur Cassion to his natural
ill temper, and led to a quarrel between himself and Chevet which
might have ended seriously had I not intervened. The incident,
however, left the Commissaire in ugly mood, and caused him to play the
bully over his men. To me he was sullen, after an attempt at
insolence, and sat glowering across the water, meditating revenge.
At last we left the chain of islands behind, and one morning struck
out from the shore into the waste of waters, the prows of the canoes
turned westward, the steersman guiding our course by the sun. For
several hours we were beyond view of land, with naught to rest the eye
upon save the gray sea, and then, when it was nearly night, we reached
the shore, and beached our canoes at St. Ignace.