WE WAIT IN AMBUSH
We advanced through the woods down a slight incline, the Indians
moving like so many phantoms. Not a branch rattled as they glided
silently forward, not a leaf rustled beneath the soft tread of
moccasined feet. De Artigny led me by the hand, aiding me to move
quietly over the uneven ground, but made no effort to speak. Beside
us, not unlike a shadow, strode the chief Sequitah, his stern face
uplifted, shadowed by long black hair, a rifle gripped in his sinewy
arms. We crossed the little river, De Artigny bearing me easily in his
grasp, and, on the opposite shore, waited for the others to follow.
They came, a long line of dark, shadowy forms, wading cautiously
through the shallow water, and ranged themselves just below the bank,
many still standing in the stream. What light there was flickered over
naked bodies, and revealed savage eyes gleaming from out masses of
black hair.
De Artigny stepped forward on the exposed root of a tree to where he
could see his dusky followers, and La Forest climbed the bank, and
joined him. A moment the two men conferred, turning about to question
Sequitah. As they separated I could distinguish De Artigny's final
words.
"Very well, then, if it is your wish I take command. Sequitah, a
hundred warriors will follow you along the trail--you know it well.
Have your best scouts in advance, and circle your braves so as to make
attack impossible. Your scouts will not go beyond the great rock
except on my order. M. la Forest will accompany them. This is clear?"
The Indian muttered response in his own tongue; then spoke more
sharply, and the mass of warriors below changed formation, the greater
number climbing the bank, and grouping themselves in the darker shadow
of the woods.
"Who has charge of the others?" asked De Artigny.
"Bastian Courtray," replied La Forest. "He is yonder."
"Then Courtray, listen; you follow the stream, but do not venture from
cover. Post your men below the stockade and wait to intercept
fugitives. We will do the fighting above. Are the warriors with you
armed?"
"All but ten have rifles, Monsieur, but I know not if they be of
value."
"You must make the best use of them you can. Above all things be
quiet, and do nothing to alarm the Iroquois. You may go."
I leaned forward watching them as they waded down stream, and then
climbed the bank, disappearing in the undergrowth. Sequitah had moved
past me, and I heard his voice speaking in Indian dialect. Along the
forest aisles his warriors glided by where I stood, noiselessly as
shadows. In another moment De Artigny and I were alone, the black
night all about us, and not a sound reaching our ears to tell of those
vanished allies. He took my hand, a caress in his touch, a suggestion
of pride in his voice.
"The old chief is warrior still," he said, "and, unless all signs
fail, the Iroquois will long remember this day. Come, Adele, 'twill
not do for us to be far behind, and we have walked this trail before
together."
Had I not tested it with my own ears never would I have believed a
hundred men could have made way so noiselessly in the dark, through
such thick forest, rock strewn and deeply rutted. Yet not a sound of
their stealthy passage was wafted back to us on the wind--no echo of
voice, no rasping of foot, no rustle of leaves. Ghosts could not have
moved more silently. Some way the very thought that these grim savages
were thus creeping forward to attack, and kill, their hearts mad with
hate, wild beasts of prey stalking their victims, yielded me a strange
feeling of horror. I clung to De Artigny's arm, shrinking from the
shadows, my mind filled with nameless fear.
"Adele," he whispered, tenderly, "you still fear for me in this
venture?"
"Yes, Monsieur."
"There is no need. You heard La Forest say he bore orders of the King
which gave De Tonty command once more of Fort St. Louis."
"Yes, Monsieur; but you have already been tried and condemned. Even if
they have not authority to shoot you here, they have power to
transport to Quebec."
"There would be battle first, if I know my old comrades well. No, as
to that there is no cause to fear. I shall be given fair trial now,
and welcome it. My fear has been for you--the vengeance of Cassion, if
ever you came within his grasp again. But that also is settled."
"Settled? What is it you would tell me?"
"This, sweetheart; you should know, although I would that some other
might tell you. La Forest whispered it to me while we were alone
yonder, for he knew not you were estranged from your husband. He bears
with him the King's order for the arrest of M. Cassion. Captain de
Baugis is commissioned by La Barre to return him safely to Quebec for
trial."
"On what charge?"
"Treason to France; the giving of false testimony against a King's
officer, and the concealing of official records."
"_Mon Dieu!_ was it the case of my father?"
"Yes; the truth has been made clear. There is, as I understand from
what La Forest told me, not sufficient evidence against La Barre to
convict, yet 'tis believed the case will cost him his office. But M.
Cassion was his agent, and is guilty beyond a doubt."
"But, Monsieur, who made the charges? Who brought the matter to the
attention of Louis?"
"The Comte de Frontenac; he was your father's friend, and won him
restoration of his property. Not until La Forest met him in France was
he aware of the wrong done Captain la Chesnayne. Later he had converse
with La Salle, a Franciscan once stationed at Montreal, and two
officers of the regiment Carignan-Salliers. Armed with information
thus gained he made appeal to Louis. 'Tis told me the King was so
angry he signed the order of arrest with his own hand, and handed it
to La Forest to execute."
"The Governor knows?"
"Not yet. La Forest felt it best to keep the secret, fearing he might
be detained, or possibly ambushed on the way hither."
I cannot describe my feelings--joy, sorrow, memory of the past,
overwhelming me. My eyes were wet with tears, and I could find no
words. De Artigny seemed to understand, yet he made no effort to
speak, merely holding me close with his strong arm. So in silence, our
minds upon the past and the future, we followed the savages through
the black night along the dim trail. For the time I forgot where I
was, my weird, ghastly surroundings, the purpose of our stealthy
advance, and remembered only my father, and the scenes of childhood.
He must have comprehended, for he made no attempt to interrupt my
reverie, and his silence drew me closer--the steady pressure of his
arm brought me peace.
Suddenly before us loomed the shadow of the great rock, which rose a
mighty barrier across the trail, its crest outlined against the sky.
The Indians had halted here, and we pressed forward through them,
until we came to where the chief and La Forest waited. There was a
growing tinge of light in the eastern sky, enabling us to perceive
each other's faces. All was tense, expectant, the Indians scarcely
venturing to breathe, the two white men conversing in whispers.
Sequitah stood motionless as a statue, his lips tightly closed.
"Your scouts ventured no further?" questioned De Artigny.
"No, 'twas not safe; one man scaled the rock, and reports the Iroquois
just beyond."
"They hide in covert where I suspected then; but I would see with my
own eyes. There is crevice here, as I remember, to give foothold. Ay,
here it is, an easy passage enough. Come, La Forest, a glance ahead
will make clear my plans."
The two clambered up noiselessly, and outstretched themselves on the
flat surface above. The dawn brightened, almost imperceptibly, so I
could distinguish the savage forms on either side, some standing, some
squatting on the grass, all motionless, but alert, their weapons
gleaming, their cruel eyes glittering from excitement. La Forest
descended cautiously, and touched the arm of the chief.
"You see?"
The Indian shook his head.
"Sequitah know now; he not need see. We do what white chief says."
La Forest turned toward me.
"And you, Madame, De Artigny would have you join him."
Surprised at the request I rested my foot in his hand, and crept
forward along the smooth surface until I lay beside Rene. He glanced
aside into my face.
"Do not lift your head," he whispered. "Peer through this cleft in the
stone."
Had I the talent I could sketch that scene now from memory. It must
ever abide in my mind, distinct in every detail. The sky overcast with
cloud masses, a dense mist rising from the valley, the pallid spectral
light barely making visible the strange, grotesque shapes of rocks,
trees and men. Before us was a narrow opening, devoid of vegetation, a
sterile patch of stone and sand, and beyond this a fringe of trees,
matted with underbrush below so as to make good screen, but
sufficiently thinned out above, so that, from our elevation, we could
look through the interlaced branches across the cleared space where
the timber had been chopped away to the palisades of the fort. The
first space was filled with warriors, crouching behind the cover of
underbrush. Most of these were lying down, or upon their knees,
watchfully peering through toward the fort gates, but a few were
standing, or moving cautiously about bearing word of command. The
attention of all was in front riveted upon the silent, seemingly
deserted fort. Not a face did I note turned in our direction, not a
movement to indicate our presence was suspected. It was a line, in
many places two deep, of naked red bodies, stretching down the slope
on either side; the coarse black hair of the warriors gave them savage
look, while here and there a chief sported gaudy war bonnet, and all
along was the gleam of weapons. The number of them caused me to gasp
for breath.
"Monsieur," I whispered timidly, "you can never attack; there are too
many."
"They appear more numerous than they are," he answered confidently,
"but it will be a stiff fight. Not all Tuscaroras either; there are
Eries yonder to the right, and a few renegade Mohawks with them. Look,
by the foot of that big tree, the fellow in war bonnet, and deerskin
shirt--what make you of him?"
"A white man in spite of his paint."
"'Twas my guess also. I thought it likely they had a renegade with
them, for this is not Indian strategy. La Forest was of the same
opinion, although 'twas too dark when he was here for us to make
sure."
"For what are they waiting, and watching?"
"The gates to open, no doubt. If they suspect nothing within, they
will send out a party soon to reconnoiter the trail, and reach the
river below for water. It is the custom, and, no doubt, these devils
know, and will wait their chance. They urge the laggards now."
We lay and watched them, his hand clasping mine. Those warriors who
had been lying prone, rose to their knees, and weapons in hand,
crouched for a spring; the chiefs scattered, careful to keep concealed
behind cover. Not a sound reached us, every movement noiseless, the
orders conveyed by gesture of the hand. De Artigny pressed my
fingers.
"Action will come soon," he said, his lips at my ear, "and I must be
ready below to take the lead. You can serve us best here, Adele; there
is no safer spot if you lie low. You have a bit of cloth--a
handkerchief?"
"Yes, Monsieur."
"Then watch the fort gates, and if you see them open drop the cloth
over the edge of the rock there in signal. I will wait just below, but
from where we are we can see nothing. You understand?"
"Surely, Monsieur; I am to remain here and watch; then signal you when
the fort gates open."
"Ay, that is it; or if those savages advance into the open--they may
not wait."
"Yes, Monsieur."
His lips touched mine, and I heard him whisper a word of endearment.
"You are a brave girl."
"No, Monsieur; I am frightened, terribly frightened, but--but I love
you, and am a Frenchwoman."
He crept back silently, and I was left alone on the great rock, gazing
out anxiously into the gray morning.