WE DECIDE OUR COURSE
With a feeling of relief in my heart, a sense that my reputation was
safe, and that the good God had set the seal of His approval on the
choice made, I accepted De Artigny's outstretched hand, and permitted
him to assist me down the bank. The new arrival was just within the
edge of the forest, bending over a freshly kindled fire, barely
commencing to blaze, and beside him on the grass lay a wild fowl,
already plucked of its feathers. So intent was the fellow at his task,
he did not even lift his head until my companion hailed him.
"Barbeau, here is the lady of whom I spoke--the wife of Monsieur
Cassion."
He stood up, and made me a salute as though I were an officer, as odd
a looking little man as ever I had seen, with a small, peaked face, a
mop of black hair, and a pair of shrewd, humorous eyes. His dress was
that of a _courier du bois_, with no trace of uniform save the blue
forage cap gripped in one hand, yet he stood stiff as if on parade. In
spite of his strange, uncouth appearance there was that in his face
which won my favor, and I held out my hand.
"You are a soldier of France, Monsieur de Artigny tells me."
"Yes, Madame, of the Regiment Carignan-Salliers," he answered.
"I wonder have you served long? My father was an officer in that
command--Captain la Chesnayne."
The expression on the man's face changed magically.
"You the daughter of Captain la Chesnayne," he exclaimed, the words
bursting forth uncontrolled, "and married to Cassion! how can this
be?"
"You knew him then--my father?"
"Ay, Madame; I was with him at the Richelieu, at the village of the
Mohawks; and at Bois le Blanc, where he died. I am Jacques Barbeau, a
soldier for twenty years; did he not speak to you of me?"
"I was but a girl when he was killed, and we seldom met, for he was
usually on campaign. Yet what do you mean by thus expressing surprise
at my marriage to Monsieur Cassion?"
He hesitated, evidently regretting his impulsive speech, and glancing
from my face into the stern eyes of De Artigny.
"Monsieur, Madame, I spoke hastily; it was not my place."
"That may be true, Barbeau," replied the Sieur grimly, "yet the words
have been said, and the lady has a right to have them explained. Was
there quarrel between her father and this Francois Cassion?"
"Ay, there was, and bitter, although I know nothing as to the cause.
Cassion, and La Barre--he whom I now hear is Governor of New
France--were alike opposed to Captain la Chesnayne, and but for
reports they made he would have been the colonel. He struck Cassion in
the mess tent, and they were to fight the very morning the Iroquois
met us at Bois le Blanc. 'Twas the talk of the men that the captain
was shot from behind."
"By Cassion?"
"That I cannot say; yet the bullet entered behind the ear, for I was
first to reach him, and he had no other enemy in the Regiment
Carignan-Salliers. The feeling against M. Cassion was so strong that
he resigned in a few months. You never heard this?"
I could not answer, but stood silent with bowed head. I felt De
Artigny place his hand on my shoulder.
"The lady did not know," he said gravely, as though he felt the
necessity of an explanation. "She was at school in a convent at
Quebec, and no rumor reached her. She is thankful to you for what you
have said, Barbeau, and can trust you as her father's friend and
comrade. May I tell him the truth, Madame? The man may have other
information of value."
I looked at the soldier, and his eyes were grave and honest.
"Yes," I answered, "it can do no harm."
De Artigny's hand was still on my shoulder, but his glance did not
seek my face.
"There is some low trick here, Barbeau," he began soberly, "but the
details are not clear. Madame has trusted me as a friend, and confided
all she knows, and I will tell the facts to you as I understand them.
False reports were made to France regarding Captain la Chesnayne. We
have not learned what they were, or who made them, but they were so
serious that Louis, by royal decree, issued order that his estates
revert to the crown. Later La Chesnayne's friends got the ear of the
King, no doubt through Frontenac, ever loyal to him, and by royal
order the estates were restored to his ownership. This order of
restoration reached Quebec soon after La Barre was appointed Governor,
and was never made public. It was suppressed by someone, and La
Chesnayne was killed three months later, without knowing that he had
won the favor of the King."
"But Cassion knew; he was ever hand in glove with La Barre."
"We have cause to suspect so, and now, after listening to your tale,
to believe that Captain la Chesnayne's death was part of a carefully
formed plot. By accident the lady here learned of the conspiracy,
through overhearing a conversation, but was discovered by La Barre
hiding behind the curtains of his office. To keep her quiet she was
forced into marriage with Francois Cassion, and bidden to accompany
him on this journey to Fort St. Louis."
"I see," commented Barbeau shrewdly. "Such marriage would place the
property in their control by law. Had Cassion sought marriage
previously?"
His eyes were upon me as he asked the question, and I answered him
frankly.
"He visited often at the home of my Uncle, Hugo Chevet, and, while he
never spoke to me directly of marriage, I was told he desired me for
his wife and at the palace he so presented me to Monsieur La Barre."
"On pledge of Chevet, no doubt. Your uncle knew of your fortune?"
"No; he supposed me penniless; he thought it a great honor done me by
the favorite of the Governor's. 'Twas my belief he expected some
reward for persuading me to accept the offer."
"And this Chevet--what became of him?"
"He accompanied us on the journey, also upon order of Monsieur la
Barre, who, no doubt, thought he would be safer in the wilderness than
in Quebec. He was murdered at St. Ignace."
"Murdered?"
"Ay, struck down from behind with a knife. No one knows who did it,
but Cassion has charged the crime against Sieur de Artigny, and
circumstances are such he will find it difficult to prove his
innocence."
The soldier stood silent, evidently reviewing in his mind all that had
been told him, his eyes narrowed into slits as he gazed thoughtfully
at us both.
"_Bah_," he exclaimed at last, "the riddle is not so hard to read,
although, no doubt the trick has been well played. I know Governor La
Barre, and this Francois Cassion, for I have served under both, while
Monsieur la Chesnayne was my Captain, and friend. I was not always a
soldier, Madame, and once I sought holy orders, but the flesh was
weak. However, the experiment gave me education, and led to
comradeship with those above me in station--discipline in the
wilderness is not rigid. Many a night at the campfire have I talked
with my captain. And I have heard before of this Sieur de Artigny, and
of how loyally he has served M. de la Salle. Monsieur de Tonty told
the tale to M. de la Durantaye, mayhap a month ago, and I overheard.
So I possess faith in him as a gallant man, and have desire to serve
you both. May I tell you what, in my judgment, seems best for you to
do?"
I glanced at De Artigny, and his eyes gave me courage.
"Monsieur, you are a French soldier," I answered, "an educated man
also, and my father's friend. I will listen gladly."
His eyes smiled, and he swept the earth with his cap.
"Then my plan is this--leave Monsieur Cassion to go his way, and let
me be your guide southward. I know the trails, and the journey is not
difficult. M. de la Durantaye is camped at the portage of the Des
Plaines, having but a handful of men to be sure, yet he is a gallant
officer, and no enemy to La Salle, although he serves the Governor. He
will see justice done, and give you both safe convoy to Fort St.
Louis, where De Tonty knows how to protect his officers. Faith! I
would like to see Francois Cassion try to browbeat that one armed
Italian--'twould be one time he would meet his match."
De Artigny laughed.
"Ay, you are right there, my friend. I have felt the iron-hook, and
witnessed how he wins his way with white and red. Yet he is no longer
in command at Fort St. Louis; I bring him orders now from Sieur de la
Salle bidding him not to interfere with the Governor's lieutenants.
'Tis the Chevalier De Baugis with whom we must reckon."
"True, he has control, and men enough, with Cassion's party, to
enforce his order. And he is a hothead, conceited, and holding himself
a bit better than others, because he bears commission in the King's
Dragoons. 'Tis said that he and De Tonty have had many a stiff quarrel
since he came; but he dare not go too far. There are good men there
ready to draw sword if it ever come to blows--De Tonty, Boisrondet,
L'Espirance, De Marle, and the Algonquins camped on the plain below.
They would be tigers if the Italian spoke the word; while I doubt not
M. de la Durantaye would throw his influence on the side of mercy; he
has small love for the Captain of Dragoons."
I spoke quickly, and before De Artigny could voice decision.
"We will accept your guidance, Monsieur. It is the best choice, and
now the only one, for the time is past when we can expect the return
of the canoes. Can we not at once begin the journey?"
It was an hour later, after we had eaten, that we left the bluff, and
turned westward into the great woods. Barbeau led the way, moving
along the bank of a small stream, and I followed, with De Artigny
close behind. As we had nothing to carry, except the soldier's rifle
and blanket, we made rapid progress, and in less than half an hour, we
came to the Indian trail, which led southward from Green Bay to the
head waters of the Des Plaines. It was so faint and dim, a mere trace
through forest depths, that I would have passed it by unseen, but both
my companions were woodsmen, and there was no sign their trained eyes
overlooked.
Once in the trail, however, there was no difficulty in following it,
although it twisted here and there, in the avoiding of obstacles, ever
seeking the easier route. Barbeau had passed this way before, and
recalled many a land-mark, occasionally turning, and pointing out to
us certain peculiarities he had observed on his journey north. Once he
held us motionless while he crept aside, through an intervening fringe
of trees to the shore of a small lake, coming back with two fine ducks
dangling from his shoulder.
Before dark we halted in a little opening, the grass green underfoot,
and a bank of trees all about, and made night camp. There was water
near at hand, and the fire quickly built gave cheer to the scene, as
the men prepared supper. The adventures of the day had wearied me, and
I was very content to lie on Barbeau's blanket, and watch them work.
While the soldier cooked, De Artigny swiftly erected a shelter of
boughs, within which I was to pass the night. After we had eaten, I
retired at once, yet for a long time could not sleep, but lay looking
out at the two men seated before the fire smoking. I could hear their
voices, and scraps of conversation--De Artigny telling the tale of the
exploration of the great river to its mouth in the salt sea, and
Barbeau relating many a strange adventure in the wilderness. It was a
scene long to be remembered--the black shadows all about, the silence
of the great woods, the sense of loneliness, the red and yellow flames
of the fire, and the two men telling tales of wild adventure amid the
unknown.
At last they grew weary also, and lay down, pillowed their heads on
their arms, and rested motionless. My own eyes grew heavy, and I fell
asleep.