WHEN A STAR FALLS, A SOUL HAS PASSED
Sieur Nicholas Perrot came along, making his way among the strewn
bodies, to the crooked tree; he wavered a little as he came, for
weakness was still heavy upon him. No other was in sight, but from the
depths of the forest around came the stabbing reports of guns, the
yells of men, the fierce war-cry of the Dacotah warriors, rolling afar
in a gradually lessening rout of receding slaughter. None of the Stone
Men would return to their own villages from the lake of many stars, and
from this day forward the enmity between Dacotah and Assiniboine would
never die down. So the dream of Sieur Perrot had ended, after all, in
failure.
Perrot came to a sudden halt, aghast at what he beheld and heard. Of
the Star Woman he could see nothing, for she lay unconscious beneath
Crawford’s body. But there in the morning sunlight stood Frontin,
bleeding from a dozen wounds; having torn himself from the shaft that
pinned him to the tree, Frontin leaned on a broken musket, laughing
horribly at Perrot. Now, lowering an almost useless hand, Frontin
stooped and picked up an object that lay beside the silent figure of
Crawford. It was the Star of Dreams.
“Dead!” said Frontin thinly. “Dead!”
Perrot crossed himself and tried to speak, but could not. With a
shuffling step, Frontin came to the verge of the cliff and swayed a
little, the musket escaping from his grip. The man was dying where he
stood, and Sieur Perrot was frozen by the sight.
“Well, M. Crawford was right!” Faint as was the voice, it was Frontin’s
old cool, sardonic tone. “He followed the Star of Dreams--and it led
him across the horizon to which all men must attain. Yes, he was right;
he alone has won this game! If you will regard the smile on his lips,
my dear Perrot, you will see that he is happy. I think you are Sieur
Perrot? Of course.”
An inarticulate word escaped the older man, then he checked himself.
Frontin held up the Star of Dreams, so that the level morning sunlight
striking across the far forest leagues below drew from it a shimmer of
flame. He swayed suddenly, then caught himself.
“Ah, my captain, my captain!” he said mournfully. “What was it--an
agent of unseen destiny? _Eh, bien!_ You played the game, you won your
fight. Fall, my star, fall! When a star falls, they say, a soul has
passed----”
Frontin jerked his hand. The jewel flew out into the air, blazed for an
instant with a swift sheen of green and gold, then was gone with a long
flash to the lake below. Frontin staggered for the second time, and
looked sideways at Perrot.
“My dear Sieur Perrot,” and his words were little more than a whisper,
“when you go to court, and they ask whether you have encountered M.
le Marquis de Sazerac in the New World, you may say to them that--he
followed--the Star of--Dreams----”
His knees were loosened, and he suddenly pitched forward and was gone
from sight. The echo of his wild laugh floated up from the depth, and
that was all.
Sieur Nicholas Perrot clutched the crucifix at his breast, and closed
his eyes, trembling. His lips moved silently.--then he suddenly lifted
his head and looked up. A sound came to his ears. He started violently.
“Metaminens!”
Now, suddenly seeing what he had failed to see, Perrot threw himself
forward and a cry broke from his lips. He hurled the brush aside, and
met the gaze of the Star Woman. Eyes distended, he caught her hand,
stared at her, babbled frightened words.
“You--you--ah, it is not you at all!” he exclaimed incoherently.
The Star Woman sat up. With one arm she held the body of Crawford,
which lay across her knees, the other hand she extended to Perrot.
“Metaminens!” A glory was in her eyes. “It is you! Here, look to him
quickly--he is not dead--I can feel his heart beating----”
Perrot awoke to action. He turned Crawford over and swiftly examined
the hurt body.
“No--he is not dead. He will not die if----”
His eyes fell upon the star of silver and turquoise that hung across
the bandaged breast of the Star Woman. A deathly pallor came into his
face. He reached out and touched the star.
“You--yes, it is you after all----”
“Look to him, quickly!” cried the girl, and then fell back, her eyes
closed.
Perrot glanced at Crawford and shrugged. “You are far from death, my
friend,” he murmured. Leaning forward, he touched the breast of the
girl, nodded reassuringly as he felt her heartbeat, then looked for a
long moment into her quiet face.
When he rose and stood erect, the grey-bearded cheeks of Sieur Nicholas
Perrot were sparkling with tears. In his eyes lay a great wonder, and a
greater heartache.
“Her daughter--her daughter!” he said softly. “And I never knew! Now
I have come too late--she will never know, and how can I tell her?
Metaminens is no more--his work is done, his heart is broken and dead,
his body is outworn, his spirit is weary. Oh, Star Woman, you who have
gone across the horizon--wait for me! Your daughter has found her
destiny in this man--leave the future to them, and wait for me, Star
Woman! I shall not be long in coming to you. Not what has been, my Star
Woman, but what will be--what will be----”
So Perrot stood there, with bowed head, until Crawford groaned and
stirred. Then, brushing the tears from his grey beard, Sieur Nicholas
Perrot knelt to his work. And above him the morning breeze lifted the
singing pine-needles of the crooked tree, as though up there a voice
whispered back to him----
“What will be!”
THE END
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.