WITHIN THE FORT
I doubt if I paused a second, yet that was enough to give me glimpse
of the weird scene. I saw De Artigny lunge with his knife, a huge
savage reeling beneath the stroke, and Barbeau cleave passage to the
rescue, the stock of his gun shattered as he struck fiercely at the
red devils who blocked his path.
Outnumbered, helpless for long in that narrow space, their only hope
lay in a sortie by the garrison, and it was my part to give the alarm.
Even as I sprang forward, a savage leaped from the ruck, but I escaped
his hand, and raced up the dark trail, the one thought urging me on.
God knows how I made it--to me 'tis but a memory of falls over unseen
obstacles, of reckless running; yet the distance could have been
scarce more than a hundred yards, before my eyes saw the darker shadow
of the stockade outlined against the sky.
Crying out with full strength of my voice I burst into the little open
space, then tripped and fell just as the gate swung wide, and I saw a
dozen dark forms emerge. One leaped forward and grasped me, lifting me
partly to my feet.
"_Mon Dieu_! a woman!" he exclaimed in startled voice. "What means
this, in Heaven's name?"
"Quick," I gasped, breaking away, able now to stand on my own feet.
"They are fighting there--two white men--De Artigny--"
"What, Rene! Ay, lads, to the rescue! Cartier, take the lady within.
Come with me you others."
They swept past me, the leader well in advance. I felt the rush as
they passed, and had glimpse of vague figures 'ere they disappeared in
the darkness. Then I was alone, except for the bearded soldier who
grasped my arm.
"Who was that?" I asked, "the man who led?"
"Boisrondet, Francois de Boisrondet."
"An officer of La Salle's? You then are of his company?"
"I am," a bit proudly, "but most of the lads yonder belong with De
Baugis. Now we fight a common foe, and forget our own quarrel. Did you
say Rene de Artigny was in the fighting yonder?"
"Yes; he and a soldier named Barbeau."
The fellow stood silent, shifting his feet.
"'Twas told us he was dead," he said finally, with effort. "Some more
of La Barre's men arrived three days ago by boat, under a popinjay
they call Cassion to recruit De Baugis' forces. De la Durantaye was
with him from the portage, so that now they outnumber us three to one.
You know this Cassion, Madame?"
"Ay, I traveled with his party from Montreal."
"Ah, then you will know the truth no doubt. De Tonty and Cassion were
at swords points over a charge the latter made against Rene de
Artigny--that he had murdered one of the party at St. Ignace."
"Hugo Chevet, the fur trader."
"Ay, that was the name. We of La Salle's company know it to be a lie.
_Sacre_! I have served with that lad two years, and 'tis not in his
nature to knife any man in the back. And so De Tonty said, and he gave
Cassion the lie straight in his teeth. I heard their words, and but
for De Baugis and De la Durantaye, Francois Cassion would have paid
well for his false tongue. Now you can tell him the truth."
"I shall do that, but even my word, I fear, will not clear De Artigny
of the charge. I believe the man to be innocent; in my heart there is
no doubt, yet there is so little to be proven."
"Cassion speaks bitterly; he is an enemy."
"Monsieur Cassion is my husband," I said regretfully.
"Your pardon, Madame. Ah, I understand it all now. You were supposed
to have been drowned in the great lake, but were saved by De Artigny.
'Twill be a surprise for Monsieur, but in this land, we witness
strange things. _Mon Dieu_! see, they come yonder; 'tis Boisrondet and
his men."
They approached in silence, mere shadowy figures, whose numbers I
could not count, but those in advance bore a helpless body in their
arms, and my heart seemed to stop its beating, until I heard De
Artigny's voice in cheerful greeting.
"What, still here, Madame, and the gate beyond open," he took my hand,
and lifted it to his lips. "My congratulations; your work was well
done, and our lives thank you. Madame Cassion, this is my comrade,
Francois Boisrondet, whose voice I was never more glad to hear than
this night. I commend him to your mercy."
Boisrondet, a mere shadow in the night, swept the earth with his hat.
"I mind me the time," he said courteously, "when Rene did me equal
service."
"The savages have fled?"
"'Twas short, and sweet, Madame, and those who failed to fly are lying
yonder."
"Yet some among you are hurt?"
"Barbeau hath an ugly wound--ay, bear him along, lads, and have the
cut looked to--but as for the rest of us, there is no serious harm
done."
I was gazing at De Artigny, and marked how he held one hand to his
side.
"And you, Monsieur; you are unscathed?"
"Except for a small wound here, and a head which rings yet from savage
blows--no more than a night's rest will remedy. Come, Madame 'tis time
we were within, and the gates closed."
"Is there still danger then? Surely now that we are under protection
there will be no attack?"
"Not from those we have passed, but 'tis told me there are more than a
thousand Iroquois warriors in the valley, and the garrison has less
than fifty men all told. It was luck we got through so easily. Ay,
Boisrondet, we are ready."
That was my first glimpse of the interior of a frontier fort, and,
although I saw only the little open space lighted by a few waving
torches, the memory abides with distinctness. A body of men met us at
the gate, dim, indistinct figures, a few among them evidently soldiers
from their dress, but the majority clothed in the ordinary garb of the
wilderness. Save for one Indian squaw, not a woman was visible, nor
did I recognize a familiar face, as the fellows, each man bearing a
rifle, surged about us in noisy welcome, eagerly questioning those who
had gone forth to our rescue. Yet we were scarcely within, and the
gates closed, when a man pressed his way forward through the throng,
in voice of authority bidding them stand aside. A blazing torch cast
its red light over him, revealing a slender figure attired in frontier
garb, a dark face, made alive by a pair of dense brown eyes, which met
mine in a stare of surprise.
"Back safe, Boisrondet," he exclaimed sharply, "and have brought in a
woman. 'Tis a strange sight in this land. Were any of our lads hurt?"
"None worth reporting, Monsieur. The man they carried was a soldier of
M. de la Durantaye. He was struck down before we reached the party.
There is an old comrade here."
"An old comrade! Lift the torch, Jacques. Faith, there are so few left
I would not miss the sight of such a face."
He stared about at us, for an instant uncertain; then took a quick
step forward, his hand outstretched.
"Rene de Artigny!" he cried, his joy finding expression in his face.
"Ay, an old comrade, indeed, and only less welcome here than M. de la
Salle himself. 'Twas a bold trick you played tonight, but not unlike
many another I have seen you venture. You bring me message from
Monsieur?"
"Only that he has sailed safely for France to have audience with
Louis. I saw him aboard ship, and was bidden to tell you to bide here
in patience, and seek no quarrel with De Baugis."
"Easy enough to say; but in all truth I need not seek quarrel--it
comes my way without seeking. De Baugis was not so bad--a bit high
strung, perhaps, and boastful of his rank, yet not so ill a
comrade--but there is a newcomer here, a popinjay named Cassion, with
whom I cannot abide. Ah, but you know the beast, for you journeyed
west in his company. _Sacre_! the man charged you with murder, and I
gave him the lie to his teeth. Not two hours ago we had our swords
out, but now you can answer for yourself."
De Artigny hesitated, his eyes meeting mine.
"I fear, Monsieur de Tonty," he said finally, "the answer may not be
so easily made. If it were point of sword now, I could laugh at the
man, but he possesses some ugly facts difficult to explain."
"Yet 'twas not your hand which did the deed?"
"I pledge you my word to that. Yet this is no time to talk of the
matter. I have wounds to be looked to, and would learn first how
Barbeau fares. You know not the lady; but of course not, or your
tongue would never have spoken so freely--Monsieur de Tonty, Madame
Cassion."
He straightened up, his eyes on my face. For an instant he stood
motionless; then swept the hat from his head, and bent low.
"Your pardon, Madame; we of the wilderness become rough of speech. I
should have known, for a rumor reached me of your accident. You owe
life, no doubt, to Sieur de Artigny."
"Yes, Monsieur; he has been my kind friend."
"He would not be the one I love else. We know men on this frontier,
Madame, and this lad hath seen years of service by my side." His hand
rested on De Artigny's shoulder. "'Twas only natural then that I
should resent M. Cassion's charge of murder."
"I share your faith in the innocence of M. de Artigny," I answered
firmly enough, "but beyond this assertion I can say nothing."
"Naturally not, Madame. Yet we must move along. You can walk, Rene?"
"Ay, my hurts are mostly bruises."
The torches led the way, the dancing flames lighting up the scene.
There was hard, packed earth under our feet, nor did I realize yet
that this Fort St. Louis occupied the summit of a great rock,
protected on three sides by precipices, towering high above the river.
Sharpened palisades of logs surrounded us on every side, with low log
houses built against them, on the roofs of which riflemen could stand
in safety to guard the valley below.
The central space was open except for two small buildings, one from
its shape a chapel, and the other, as I learned later, the guardhouse.
A fire blazed at the farther end of the enclosure, with a number of
men lounging about it, and illumined the front of a more pretentious
building, which apparently extended across that entire end. This
building, having the appearance of a barrack, exhibited numerous doors
and windows, with a narrow porch in front, on which I perceived a
group of men.
As we approached more closely, De Tonty walking between De Artigny and
myself, a soldier ran up the steps, and made some report. Instantly
the group broke, and two men strode past the fire, and met us. One was
a tall, imposing figure in dragoon uniform, a sword at his thigh, his
face full bearded; the other whom I recognized instantly with a swift
intake of breath, was Monsieur Cassion. He was a stride in advance,
his eyes searching me out in the dim light, his face flushed from
excitement.
"_Mon Dieu_! what is this I hear," he exclaimed, staring at the three
of us as though doubting the evidence of his own eyes. "My wife alive?
Ay, by my faith, it is indeed Adele." He grasped me by the arm, but
even at that instant his glance fell upon De Artigny, and his manner
changed.
"Saint Anne! and what means this! So 'tis with this rogue you have
been wandering the wilderness!"
He tugged at his sword, but the dragoon caught his arm.
"Nay, wait, Cassion. 'Twill be best to learn the truth before
resorting to blows. Perchance Monsieur Tonty can explain clearly what
has happened."
"It is explained already," answered the Italian, and he took a step
forward as though to protect us. "These two, with a soldier of M. de
la Durantaye, endeavored to reach the fort, and were attacked by
Iroquois. We dispatched men to their rescue, and have all now safe
within the palisades. What more would you learn, Messieurs?"
Cassion pressed forward, and fronted him, angered beyond control.
"We know all that," he roared savagely. "But I would learn why they
hid themselves from me. Ay, Madame, but I will make you talk when once
we are alone! But now I denounce this man as the murderer of Hugo
Chevet, and order him under arrest. Here, lads, seize the fellow."