WE REACH THE RIVER
It was the voice of Boisrondet which recalled us to a sense of
danger.
"It is late, and we must not linger here," he insisted, touching De
Artigny's sleeve. "The guard may discover your absence, Rene, before
we get beyond the stockade. Come, we must move quickly."
"Ay, and with more than ever to give us courage, Francois. Yet how can
we get Madame safely over the logs?"
"She must venture the same as we. Follow me closely, and tread with
care."
So dark was the night I was obliged to trust entirely to De Artigny's
guidance, but it was evident that both men were familiar with the way,
and had thoroughly considered the best method of escape. No doubt De
Tonty and his young lieutenant had arranged all details, so as to
assure success. We traversed the flat roofs of the chain of log houses
along the west side of the stockade until we came to the end. The only
light visible was a dull glow of embers before the guardhouse near the
center of the parade, which revealed a group of soldiers on duty. The
stockade extended some distance beyond where we halted, crouched low
on the flat roof to escape being seen. There would be armed men along
that wall, especially near the gates, guarding against attack, but the
darkness gave us no glimpse. There was no firing, no movement to be
perceived. The two men crept to the edge, and looked cautiously over,
and I clung close to De Artigny, nervous from the silence, and afraid
to become separated. Below us was the dense blackness of the gorge.
"This is the spot," whispered De Artigny, "and no alarm yet. How far
to the rocks?"
"De Tonty figured the distance at forty feet below the stockade; we
have fifty feet of rope here. The rock shelf is narrow, and the great
risk will be not to step off in the darkness. There should be an iron
ring here somewhere--ay, here it is; help me draw the knot taut,
Rene."
"Do we--do we go down here, Monsieur?" I questioned, my voice
faltering.
"Here, or not at all; there are guards posted yonder every two yards.
This is our only chance to escape unseen." Boisrondet tested the rope,
letting it slip slowly through his hands down into the darkness below,
until it hung at full length. "It does not touch," he said, "yet it
cannot lack more than a foot or two. Faith! We must take the risk. I
go first Rene--hush! 'tis best so--the lady would prefer that you
remain, while I test the passage. The devil himself may be waiting
there." He gazed down, balancing himself on the edge, the cord gripped
in his hands.
"Now mind my word; once on the rock below I will signal with three
jerks on the cord. Haul up then slowly, so as to make no noise; make a
noose for the lady's foot, and lower her with care. You have the
strength?"
"Ay, for twice her weight."
"Good; there will be naught to fear, Madame, for I will be below to
aid your footing. When I give the signal again Rene will descend and
join us."
"The rope is to be left dangling?"
"Only until I return. Once I leave you safe beyond the Iroquois, 'tis
my part to climb this rope again. Some task that," cheerfully, "yet De
Tonty deems it best that no evidence connect us with this escape. What
make you the hour?"
"Between one and two."
"Which will give me time before daydawn; so here, I chance it."
He swung himself over the edge, and slipped silently down into the
black mystery. We leaned over to watch, but could see nothing, our
only evidence of his progress, the jerking of the cord. De Artigny's
hand closed on mine.
"Dear," he whispered tenderly, "we are alone now--you are sorry?"
"I am happier than I have ever been in my life," I answered honestly.
"I have done what I believe to be right, and trust God. All I care to
know now is that you love me."
"With every throb of my heart," he said solemnly. "It is my love which
makes me dread lest you regret."
"That will never be, Monsieur; I am of the frontier, and do not fear
the woods. Ah! he has reached the rock safely--'tis the signal."
De Artigny drew up the cord, testing it to make sure the strands held
firm, and made careful noose, into which he slipped my foot.
"Now, Adele, you are ready?"
"Yes, sweetheart; kiss me first."
"You have no fear?"
"Not with your strong hands to support, but do not keep me waiting
long below."
Ay, but I was frightened as I swung off into the black void, clinging
desperately to that slight rope, steadily sinking downward. My body
rubbed against the rough logs, and then against rock. Once a jagged
edge wounded me, yet I dare not release my grip, or utter a sound. I
sank down, down, the strain ever greater on my nerves. I retained no
knowledge of distance, but grew apprehensive of what awaited me below.
Would the rope reach to the rock? Would I swing clear? Even as these
thoughts began to horrify, I felt a hand grip me, and Boisrondet's
whisper gave cheerful greeting.
"It is all right, Madame; release your foot, and trust me. Good, now
do not venture to move, until Rene joins us. Faith, he wastes little
time; he is coming now."
I could see nothing, not even the outlines of my companion, who stood
holding the cord taut. I could feel the jagged face of the rock,
against which I stood, and ventured, by reaching out with one foot, to
explore my immediate surroundings. The groping toe touched the edge of
the narrow shelf, and I drew back startled at thought of another sheer
drop into the black depths. My heart was still pounding when De
Artigny found foothold beside me. As he swung free from the cord, his
fingers touched my dress.
"A fine test of courage that, Adele," he whispered, "but with Francois
here below there was small peril. Now what next?"
"A ticklish passage for a few yards. Stand close until I get by; now
cling to the wall, and follow me. Once off this shelf we can plan our
journey. Madame, take hold of my jacket. Rene, you have walked this
path before."
"Ay, years since, but I recall its peril."
We crept forward, so cautiously it seemed we scarcely moved, the rock
shelf we traversed so narrow in places that I could scarce find space
in which to plant my feet firmly. Boisrondet whispered words of
guidance back to me, and I could feel De Artigny touch my skirt as he
followed, ready to grip me if I fell. Yet then I experienced no fear,
no shrinking, my every thought centered on the task. Nor was the way
long. Suddenly we clambered onto a flat rock, crossed it, and came to
the edge of a wood, with a murmur of water not far away. Here
Boisrondet paused, and we came close about him. There seemed to be
more light here, although the tree shadows were grim, and the night
rested about us in impressive silence.
"Here is where the river trail comes down," and Boisrondet made motion
to the left. "You should remember that well, Rene."
"I was first to pass over it; it leads to the water edge."
"Yes; not so easily followed in the night, yet you are woodsman enough
to make it. So far as we know from above the Iroquois have not
discovered there is a passage here. Listen, Rene; I leave you now, for
those were De Tonty's orders. He said that from now on you would be
safe alone. Of course he knew nothing of Madame's purpose."
"Monsieur shall not find me a burden," I interrupted.
"I am sure of that," he said gallantly, "and so think it best to
return while the night conceals my movements. There will be hot words
when M. Cassion discovers your escape, and my chief may need my sword
beside him, if it comes to blows. Is my decision to return right,
Rene?"
"Ay, right; would that I might be with you. But what plan did M. de
Tonty outline for me to follow?"
"'Twas what I started to tell. At the edge of the water, but concealed
from the river by rocks, is a small hut where we keep hidden a canoe
ready fitted for any secret service. 'Twas Sieur de la Salle's thought
that it might prove of great use in time of siege. No doubt it is
there now just as we left it, undiscovered of the Iroquois. This will
bear you down the river until daylight, when you can hide along
shore."
"There is a rifle?"
"Two of them, with powder and ball." He laid his hand on the other's
shoulder. "There is nothing more to say, and time is of value.
Farewell, my friend."
"Farewell," their fingers clasped. "There will be other days,
Francois; my gratitude to M. de Tonty." Boisrondet stepped back, and,
hat in hand, bowed to me.
"Adieu, Madame; a pleasant journey."
"A moment, Monsieur," I said, a falter in my voice. "You are M. de
Artigny's friend, an officer of France, and a Catholic."
"Yes, Madame."
"And you think that I am right in my choice? that I am doing naught
unworthy of my womanhood?"
Even in the darkness I saw him make the symbol of the cross, before he
bent forward and kissed my hand.
"Madame," he said gravely, "I am but a plain soldier, with all my
service on the frontier. I leave to the priests the discussion of
doctrines, and to God my punishment and reward. I can only answer you
as De Artigny's friend, and an officer of France. I give you honor,
and respect, and deem your love and trust far more holy than your
marriage. My faith, and my sword are yours, Madame."
I felt his lips upon my hand, yet knew not he had gone. I stood there,
my eyes blinded with tears at his gallant words, only becoming
conscious of his disappearance, when De Artigny drew me to him, his
cheek pressed against my hair.
"He has gone! we are alone!"
"Yes, dear one; but I thank God for those last words. They have given
me courage, and faith. So my old comrades believe us right the
criticism of others does not move me. You love me, Adele? you do not
regret?"
My arms found way about his neck; my lips uplifted to his.
"Monsieur, I shall never regret; I trust God, and you."
How he ever found his way along that dim trail I shall never know.
Some memory of its windings, together with the instinct of a woodsman,
must have given guidance, while no doubt his feet, clad in soft Indian
moccasins, enabled him to feel the faint track, imperceivable in the
darkness. It led along a steep bank, through low, tangled bushes, and
about great trees, with here and there a rock thrust across the path,
compelling detour. The branches scratched my face, and tore my dress,
confusing me so that had I not clung to his arm, I should have been
instantly lost in the gloom. Our advance was slow and cautious, every
step taken in silence. Snakes could not have moved with less noise,
and the precaution was well taken. Suddenly De Artigny stopped,
gripping me in warning. For a moment there was no sound, except the
distant murmur of waters, and the chatter of some night bird. Yet some
instinct of the woods held the man motionless, listening. A twig
cracked to our left, and then a voice spoke, low and rumbling. It
sounded so close at hand the fellow could scarcely have been five
yards away. Another voice answered, and we were aware of bodies,
stealing along through the wood; there was a faint rustling of dead
leaves, and the occasional swish of a branch. We crouched low in the
trail, fairly holding our breath, every nerve tense. There was no
sound from below, but in the other direction one warrior--I could see
the dim outline of his naked figure--passed within reach of my
outstretched hand.
Assured that all had passed beyond hearing De Artigny rose to his
feet, and assisted me to rise, his hand still grasping mine.
"Iroquois, by the look of that warrior," he whispered, "and enough of
them to mean mischief. I would I knew their language."
"'Twas the tongue of the Tuscaroras," I answered. "My father taught me
a little of it years ago. The first words spoken were a warning to be
still; the other answered that the white men are all asleep."
"And I am not sure but that is true. If De Tonty was in command the
walls would be well guarded, but De Baugis and Cassion know nothing of
Indian war."
"You believe it to be an assault?"
"It hath the look; 'tis not Indian nature to gather thus at this night
hour, without a purpose. But, _pouf_, there is little they can do
against that stockade of logs for all their numbers. It is our duty to
be well away by daylight."
The remaining distance to the water's edge was not far--a direct
descent amid a litter of rocks, shadowed by great trees. Nothing
opposed our passage, nor did we hear any sound from the savages
concealed in the forest above. De Artigny led the way along the shore
until we reached the log hut. Its door stood open; the canoe was
gone.