I SEND FOR DE TONTY
I discovered nothing but clothes at first--moccasins, and numerous
undergarments--together with a uniform, evidently new, and quite
gorgeous. The removal of these, however, revealed a pocket in the
leather side, securely fastened, and on opening this with trembling
fingers, a number of papers were disclosed.
Scarcely venturing to breathe, hardly knowing what I hoped to find,
I drew these forth, and glanced hastily at them. Surely the man
would bear nothing unimportant with him on such a journey; these
must be papers of value, for I had noted with what care he had
guarded the bag all the way. Yet at first I discovered nothing to
reward my search--there was a package of letters, carefully bound with
a strong cord, a commission from La Barre, creating Cassion a Major
of Infantry, a number of receipts issued in Montreal, a list of
goods purchased at St. Ignace, and a roster of men composing the
expedition.
At last from one corner of the pocket, I drew forth a number of
closely written pages, evidently the Governor's instruction. They were
traced in so fine a hand that I was obliged to return beside the fire
to decipher their contents. They were written in detail, largely
concerned with matters of routine, especially referring to relations
with the garrison of the fort, and Cassion's authority over De Baugis,
but the closing paragraph had evidently been added later, and had
personal interest. It read: "Use your discretion as to De Artigny, but
violence will hardly be safe; he is thought too well of by La Salle,
and that fox may get Louis' ear again. We had best be cautious.
Chevet, however, has no friends, and, I am told, possesses a list of
the La Chesnayne property, and other documents which had best be
destroyed. Do not fail in this, nor fear results. We have gone too far
to hesitate now."
I took this page, and thrust it into my breast. It was not much, and
yet it might prove the one needed link. I ran through the packet of
letters, but they apparently had no bearing on the case. Several were
from women; others from officers, mere gossipy epistles of camp and
field. Only one was from La Barre, and that contained nothing of
importance, except the writer urged Cassion to postpone marriage until
his return from the West, adding, "there is no suspicion, and I can
easily keep things quiet until then."
Assured that I had overlooked nothing, I thrust the various articles
back, restrapped the bag, and returned to the outer room. As I paused
before the fire, someone rapped at the door. I stood erect, my fingers
gripping the pistol which I still retained. Again the raps sounded,
clearly enough defined in the night, yet not violent, or threatening.
"Who is there?" I asked.
"Your husband, my dear--Francois Cassion."
"But why do you come? It was the pledge of De Baugis that I was to be
left here alone."
"A fair pledge enough, although I was not consulted. From the look of
your eyes little difference if I had been. You are as sweet in
disposition as ever, my dear; yet never mind that--we'll soon settle
our case now, I warrant you. Meanwhile I am content to wait until my
time comes. 'Tis not you I seek tonight, but my dressing case."
"Your dressing case?"
"Ay, you know it well, a brown leather bag I bore with me during our
journey."
"And where is it, Monsieur?"
"Beneath the bunk in the sleeping room. Pass it out to me, and I will
ask no more."
"'Twill be safer if you keep your word," I said quietly, "for I still
carry Hugo Chevet's pistol, and know how to use it. Draw away from the
door, Monsieur, and I will thrust out the bag."
I lowered the bar, opening the door barely wide enough to permit the
bag's passage. The light from the fire gleamed on the barrel of the
pistol held in my hand. It was the work of an instant, and I saw
nothing of Cassion, but, as the door closed, he laughed scornfully.
"Tis your game tonight, Madame," he said spitefully, "but tomorrow I
play my hand. I thank you for the bag, as it contains my commission.
By virtue of it I shall assume command of this Fort St. Louis, and I
know how to deal with murderers. I congratulate you on your lover,
Madame--good night."
I dropped into the nearest seat, trembling in every limb. It was not
personal fear, nor did I in my heart resent the insult of his last
words. De Artigny was my lover, not in mere lip service, but in fact.
I was not ashamed, but proud, to know this was true. The only thing of
which I was ashamed was my relationship with Cassion; and my only
thought now was how that relationship could be ended, and De Artigny's
life saved. The paper I had found was indeed of value, yet I realized
it alone was not enough to offset the charges which Cassion would
support by his own evidence and that of his men. This mere suggestion
in La Barre's handwriting meant nothing unless we could discover also
in Cassion's possession the documents taken from Chevet And these,
beyond doubt, had been destroyed. Over and over again in my mind I
turned these thoughts, but only to grow more confused and uncertain.
All the powers of hate were arrayed against us, and I felt helpless
and alone.
I must have slept finally from sheer exhaustion, although I made no
attempt to lie down. It was broad daylight, when I awoke, aroused by
pounding on the door. To my inquiry a voice announced food, and I
lowered the bar, permitting an orderly to enter bearing a tray, which
he deposited on the table. Without speaking he turned to leave the
room, but I suddenly felt courage to address him.
"You were not of our party," I said gravely. "Are you a soldier of M.
de Baugis?"
"No, Madame," and he turned facing me, his countenance a pleasant one.
"I am not a soldier at all, but I serve M. de Tonty."
"Ah, I am glad of that. You will bear to your master a message?"
"Perhaps, Madame," his tone somewhat doubtful. "You are the wife of
Monsieur Cassion?"
"Do not hesitate because of that," I hastened to say, believing I
understood his meaning. "While it is true I am legally the wife of
Francois Cassion, my sympathies now are altogether with the Sieur de
Artigny. I would have you ask M. de Tonty to confer with me."
"Yes, Madame."
"You have served with De Artigny? You know him well?"
"Three years, Madame; twice he saved my life on the great river. M. de
Tonty shall receive your message."
I could not eat, although I made the endeavor, and finally crossed to
the window, opened the heavy wooden shutters, and gazed without. What
a marvelous scene that was! Never before had my eyes looked upon so
fair a view, and I stood silent, and fascinated. My window opened to
the westward, and I gazed down from the very edge of the vast rock
into the wide valley. Great tree tops were below, and I had to lean
far out to see the silvery waters lapping the base of the precipice,
but, a little beyond, the full width of the noble stream became
visible, decked with islands, and winding here and there between
green-clad banks, until it disappeared in the far distance. The sun
touched all with gold; the wide meadows opposite were vivid green,
while many of the trees crowning the bluffs had already taken on rich
autumnal coloring. Nor was there anywhere in all that broad expanse,
sign of war or death. It was a scene of peace, so silent, so
beautiful, that I could not conceive this as a land of savage cruelty.
Far away, well beyond rifle shot, two loaded canoes appeared, skimming
the surface of the river. Beyond these, where the meadows swept down
to the stream, I could perceive black heaps of ashes, and here and
there spirals of smoke, the only visible symbols of destruction. A
haze hid the distant hills, giving to them a purple tinge, like a
frame encircling the picture. It was all so soft in coloring my mind
could not grasp the fact that we were besieged by warriors of the
Iroquois, and that this valley was even now being swept and harried by
those wild raiders of the woods.
I had neglected to bar the door, and as I stood there gazing in
breathless fascination, a sudden step on the floor caused me to turn
in alarm. My eyes encountered those of De Tonty, who stood hat in
hand.
"Tis a fair view, Madame," he said politely. "In all my travels I have
seen no nobler domain."
"It hath a peaceful look," I answered, still struggling with the
memory. "Can it be true the savages hold the valley?"
"All too true--see, yonder, where the smoke still shows, dwelt the
Kaskaskias. Not a lodge is left, and the bodies of their dead strew
the ground. Along those meadows three weeks since there were the happy
villages of twelve tribes of peaceful Indians; today those who yet
live are fleeing for their lives."
"And this fort, Monsieur?"
"Safe enough, I think, although no one of us can venture ten yards
beyond the gate. The Rock protects us, Madame, yet we are greatly
outnumbered, and with no ammunition to waste. 'Twas the surprise of
the raid which left us thus helpless. Could we have been given time to
gather our friendly Indians together the story would be different."
"They are not cowards then?"
"Not with proper leadership. We have seen them fight often since we
invaded this land. 'Tis my thought many of them are hiding now beyond
those hills, and may find some way to reach us. I suspected such an
effort last night, when I sent out the rescue party which brought you
in. Ah, that reminds me, Madame; you sent for me?"
"Yes, M. de Tonty. I can speak to you frankly? You are the friend of
Sieur de Artigny?"
"Faith, I hope I am, Madame, but I know not what has got into the
lad--he will tell me nothing."
"I suspected as much, Monsieur. It was for that reason I have sent for
you. He has not even told you the story of our journey?"
"Ay, as brief as a military report--not a fact I could not have
guessed. There is a secret here, which I have not discovered. Why is
M. Cassion so wild for the lad's blood? and how came there to be
trouble between Rene, and the fur trader? Bah! I know the lad is no
murderer, but no one will tell me the facts."
"Then I will, Monsieur," I said gravely. "It was because of my belief
that Sieur de Artigny would refuse explanation that I sent for you.
The truth need not be concealed; not from you, at least, the commander
of Fort St. Louis--"
"Pardon, Madame, but I am not that. La Salle left me in command with
less than a dozen men. De Baugis came later, under commission from La
Barre, but he also had but a handful of followers. To save quarrel we
agreed to divide authority, and so got along fairly well, until M.
Cassion arrived with his party. Then the odds were altogether on the
other side, and De Baugis assumed command by sheer force of rifles.
'Twas La Salle's wish that no resistance be made, but, faith, with the
Indians scattered, I had no power. This morning things have taken a
new phase. An hour ago M. Cassion assumed command of the garrison by
virtue of a commission he produced from the Governor La Barre, naming
him major of infantry. This gives him rank above Captain de Baugis,
and, besides, he bore also a letter authorizing him to take command of
all French troops in this valley, if, in his judgment, circumstances
rendered it necessary. No doubt he deemed this the proper occasion."
"To assure the conviction, and death of De Artigny?" I asked, as he
paused. "That is your meaning, Monsieur?"
"I cannot see it otherwise," he answered slowly, "although I hesitate
to make so grave a charge in your presence, Madame. Our situation here
is scarcely grave enough to warrant his action, for the fort is in no
serious danger from the Iroquois. De Baugis, while no friend of mine,
is still a fair minded man, and merciful. He cannot be made a tool for
any purpose of revenge. This truth Major Cassion has doubtless
learned, and hence assumes command himself to carry out his plans."
I looked into the soldier's dark, clear-cut face, feeling a confidence
in him, which impelled me to hold out my hand.
"M. de Tonty," I said, determined now to address him in all frankness.
"It is true that I am legally the wife of this man of whom you speak,
but this only enables me to know his motives better. This condemnation
of Sieur de Artigny is not his plan alone; it was born in the brain of
La Barre, and Cassion merely executes his orders. I have here the
written instructions under which he operates."
I held out to him the page from La Barre's letter.