My Comrade Shoots Excellently Well
From a medley of dreams, in which I saw Mizpah binding the Black Abbe
with cords of her own hair--tight, tighter, till they ate into his
flesh, and I trembled at the look of shaking horror in his face; in
which then I saw the child chasing butterflies before the door of the
Forge in the Forest, and heard Babin's hammer beating musically on his
anvil, till the sound became the chiming of the Angelus over the roofs
and walls of Quebec, where Mizpah and I walked hand fast together on
the topmost bastion,--from such a fleeting and blending confusion as
this, I woke to feel a hand laid softly on my face in the dark. I
needed no seeing to tell me whose was the hand, so slim, so cool, so
softly firm; and I had much ado to keep my lips from reverently kissing
it.
"Monsieur, Monsieur," came the whisper, "what is that noise, that
voice?"
"Pardon me, comrade, for sleeping so soundly," I murmured, sitting up,
and taking her hand in mine with a rough freedom of goodwill, as merely
to reassure her. "What is it you hear?"
But before she could reply, I heard it myself, a strange, chanting cry,
slow and plangent, from far out upon the water. Presently I caught the
words, and knew the voice.
"Woe, woe to Acadie the fair," it came solemnly, "for the day of her
desolation draws nigh!"
"It is Grul," said I, "passing in his canoe, on some strange errand of
his."
"Grul? Who is Grul?" she questioned, clinging a little to my hand, and
then dropping it suddenly.
"A quaint madman of these parts," said I; "and yet I think his madness
is in some degree a feigning. He has twice done me inestimable
service--once warning us of an immediate peril, and again yesterday, in
leading us to the spot where you were held captive. For some reason
unknown to me, he has a marvellous kindness for me and mine. But the
Black Abbe he hates in deadly fashion--for some ancient and
ineffaceable wrong, if the tale tell true."
"And he brought you to us?" she murmured, with a sort of stillness in
her voice, which caught me strangely.
"Yes, Grul did!" said I.
And then there was silence between us, and we heard the mysterious and
solemn voice passing, and dying away in the distance. My ears at last
being released from the tension of listening, my eyes began to serve
me, and through the branches I marked a grayness spreading in the sky.
"We must be stirring, Madame," said I, rising abruptly to my feet.
"Let us take our bread down to the brook and eat it there."
But she was already gone, snatching up the sack of bread; and in a few
minutes, having righted the canoe and carried it down to a convenient
landing-place, I joined her. She was stretched flat beside a little
basin of the brook, her cap off, her hair in a tight coil high upon her
head, her sleeves pulled up, while she splashed her face and arms in
the running coolness. Without pulling down her sleeves or resuming her
cap, she seated herself on a stone and held out to me a piece of bread.
In the coldly growing dawn her hair and lips were colourless, the
whiteness of her arms shadowy and spectral. Then as we slowly made our
meal, I bringing water for her in my drinking-horn, the rose and fire
and violet of sunrise began to sift down into our valley and show me
again the hues of life in Mizpah's face. I sprang up, handed her the
woollen cap, and tried hard to keep my eyes from dwelling upon the
sweet and gracious curves of her arms.
"Aboard! Aboard!" I cried, and moved off in a bustling fashion to get
the paddles. In a few minutes we were under way, thrusting out from
the shore, and pushing through myriad little curling wisps of vapour,
which rose in pale hues of violet and pink all over the oil-smooth
surface of the tide.
For some time we paddled in silence. Then, when the sun's first rays
fell fairly upon us, I exclaimed lightly:--
"You must pull down your sleeves, comrade."
"Why?" she asked quickly, turning her head and pausing in her stroke.
"For two excellent reasons besides the captain's orders," said I. "In
the first place, your arms will get so sore with sunburn, that you
won't be able to do your fair share of the work. In the second place,
if we should meet any strangers, it would be difficult to persuade them
that those arms were manly enough for a wood-ranger."
"Oh," she said quickly, and pulled down the sleeves in some confusion.
All that morning we made excellent progress, with the help of a light
following wind. When the sun was perhaps two hours high, the mouth of
the Shubenacadie opened before us; and because this river was the great
highway of the Black Abbe's red people, I ran the canoe in shore and
concealed it till I had climbed a bluff near by and scanned the lower
reaches of the stream. Finding all clear, we put out again, and with
the utmost haste paddled past the mouth. Not till we were behind the
further point, and running along under the shelter of a high bank, did
I breathe freely. Then I praised Mizpah, for in that burst of speed
her skill and force had amazed me.
But she turned upon me with the question which I had looked for.
"If that is the Black Abbe's river," said she, with great eyes fixing
mine, "and the Indians have gone that way, why do we pass by?"
"I owe you an explanation, comrade," said I. "I think in all
likelihood, that way leads straight to your child; but if we went that
way, we would be the Abbe's prisoners within the next hour,--and how
would we help the child then? Oh, no; I am bound for the Black Abbe's
back door. A few leagues beyond this lies the River des Saumons, and
on its banks is a settlement of our Acadian folk. Many of them are of
the Abbe's following, and all fear him; but I have there two faithful
men who are in the counsels of the Forge. One of these dwells some two
miles back from the river, half a league this side of the village. I
will go to him secretly, and send him on to the Shubenacadie for
information. Then we will act not blindly."
To this of course she acquiesced at once, as being the only wise way;
but for all that, with each canoe-length that we left the Shubenacadie
behind, the more did her paddle lag. The impulse seemed all gone out
of her. Soon therefore I bade her lay down the blade and rest. In a
little, when she had lain a while with her face upon her arms,--whether
waking or not I could not tell, for she kept her face turned away from
me,--she became herself again.
No long while after noon, we ran into the mouth of the des Saumons. I
was highly elated with the success that had so far attended us,--the
speed we had made, our immunity from hindrance and question. We landed
to eat our hasty meal, but paused not long to rest, being urged now by
the keen spur of imagined nearness to our goal. Some two hours more of
brisk paddling brought us to a narrow and winding creek, up which I
turned. For some furlongs it ran through a wide marsh, but at length
one bank grew high and copsy. Here I put the canoe to land, and
stepped ashore, bidding Mizpah keep her place.
Finding the spot to my liking, I pulled the canoe further up on the
soft mud, and astonished Mizpah by telling her that I must carry her up
the bank.
"But why?" she cried. "I can walk, Monsieur, as well as I could this
morning--though I _am_ a little stiff," she added naively.
"The good soldier asks not why," said I, with affected severity. "But
I will tell you. In case any one _should_ come in my absence, there
must be but one track visible, and that track mine, leading up and away
toward the settlement. You must lie hidden in that thicket, and keep
guard. Do you understand, Madame?"
"Yes," said she,--"but how can you?--I am awfully heavy."
I laughed softly, picked her up as I would a child, and carried her to
the edge of the woods, where I let her down on one end of a fallen tree.
"Now, comrade," said I, "if you will go circumspectly along this log
you will leave no trace. Hide yourself in the thicket there close to
the canoe, keep your pistols primed, and watch till I come back,--and
the blessed Virgin guard you!" I added, with a sudden fervour.
Then, having lifted the canoe altogether clear of the water, I set
forth at a swinging trot for Martin's farm.
I found my trusty habitant at home, and ready to do any errand of mine
ere I could speak it. But when I told him what I wanted of him he
started in some excitement.
"Why, Monsieur," he cried, "I have the very tidings you seek. I myself
saw a canoe with two Indians pass up the river this morning; and they
had a little child with them,--a child with long yellow hair."
"Up _this_ river!" I exclaimed. "Then whither can they be taking him?"
"They did not leave him in the village," answered Martin, positively,
"for the word goes that they passed on up in great haste. By the route
they have taken, they are clearly bound for the Straits--"
"Ay, they'll cross to the head of the Pictook, and descend that
stream," said I. "But which way will they turn then?"--For I was
surprised and confused at the information.
"Well, Monsieur," said Martin, "when they get to the Straits, who
knows? They may be going across to Ile St. Jean. They may turn south
to Ile Royale; for the English, I hear, have no hold there, save at
Louisburg and Canseau. Or they may turn north toward Miramichi. Who
knows--save the Black Abbe?"
"I must overtake them," said I, resolutely. "Good-bye, my friend and
thank you. If all goes well, you will get a summons from the Forge ere
the moon is again at the full;" and I made haste back to the spot where
Mizpah waited.
As I swung along, I congratulated myself on the good fortune which had
so held me to the trail. Then I fell to thinking of my comrade, and
the wonder of the situation, and the greater wonder of her eyes and
hair,--which thoughts sped the time so sweetly that ere I could believe
it I saw before me the overhanging willows, and the thicket by the
stream. Then I stopped as if I had been struck in the face, and shook
with a sudden fear.
At my very feet, fallen across the dead tree which I have already
mentioned, lay the body of an Indian. Every line of the loose,
sprawled body told me that he had met an instant death,--and a bullet
hole in his back showed me the manner of it. Only for a second did I
pause. Then I sprang into the thicket, with a horror catching at my
heart. There was Mizpah lying on her face,--and a hoarse cry broke
from my lips. But even as I flung myself down beside her I saw that
she was not dead. No, she was shaking with sobs,--and the naturalness
of it, strange to say, reassured me on the instant. I made to lift
her, when she sprang at once to her feet, and looked at me wildly. I
took her hand, to comfort her; but she drew it away, and gazed upon it
with a kind of shrinking horror.
I understood now what had happened. Nevertheless, knowing not just the
best thing to say, I asked her what was the matter.
"Oh," she cried, covering her eyes, "I killed him. He threw up his
hands, and groaned, and fell like a log. How could I do it? How could
I do it?"
I tried to assure her that she had done well; but finding that she
would pay me no heed, I went to look at her victim. I turned him over,
and muttered a thanksgiving to Heaven as I recognized him for one of
the worst of the Black Abbe's flock. I found his tracks all about the
canoe. Then I went back to Mizpah.
"Good soldier! Good comrade!" said I, earnestly. "You have killed
Little Fox, the blackest and cruelest rogue on the whole Shubenacadie.
Oh, I tell you you have done a good deed this day!"
The knowledge of this appeared to ease her somewhat, and in a few
moments I gathered the details. The Indian had come suddenly to the
bank, and seeing a canoe there had examined it curiously,--she, the
while, waiting in great fear, for she had at once recognized him as one
of her former captors, and one of whom she stood in special dread.
While looking at our things in the canoe, he had appeared all at once
to understand. He had picked up my coat, and examined it
carefully,--and the grin that disclosed his long teeth disclosed also
that he recognized it. Looking to the priming of his musket, he
started cautiously up the bank upon my trail.
"As soon as he left the canoe," said Mizpah, still shaken with sobs, "I
knew that something must be done. If he went away, it would be just to
give the alarm, and then we could not escape, and Philip would be lost
forever. But I saw that, instead of going away, he was going to track
you and shoot you down. I didn't know what to do, or how I could ever
shoot a man in cold blood,--but something _made_ me do it. Just as he
reached the end of the log, I seemed to see him already shooting you,
away in the woods over there,--and then I fired. And oh, oh, oh, I
shall never forget how he groaned and fell over!" And she stared at
her right hand.
"Comrade," said I, "I owe my life to you. He _would_ have shot me
down; for, as I think of it, I went carelessly, and seldom looked
behind when I got into the woods. To be so incautious is not my way,
believe me. I know not how it was, unless I so trusted the comrade
whom I had left behind to guard my trail. And now, here are news!
They have brought the child this way, up this very river! The saints
have surely led us thus far, for we are hot upon their track!"
And this made her forget to weep for the excellence of her shooting.