BLOCK-HOUSE NO. 2
On the 14th the army lay supine. There was no news from Otsego. One man
fell dead in camp of heart disease. The cattle-guard was fired on. On
the 15th a corporal and four privates, while herding our cattle, were
fired on, the Senecas killing and scalping one and wounding another. On
the 16th came a runner from Clinton with news that the Otsego army was
on the march and not very far distant from the Ouleout; and a
detachment of eight hundred men, under Brigadier General Poor, was sent
forward to meet our Right Wing and escort it back to this camp.
By one of the escort, a drummer lad, I sent a letter directed to Lois,
hoping it might be relayed to Otsego and from thence by batteau to
Albany. The Oneida runner had brought no letters, much to the disgust
of the army, and no despatches except the brief line to our General
commanding. The Brigadiers were furious. So also was I that no letters
came for me.
On the 17th our soldier-herdsmen were again fired on, and, as before,
one poor fellow was killed and partly scalped, and one wounded. The
Yellow Moth, Tahoontowhee, and the Grey-Feather went out at night on
retaliation bent, but returned with neither trophies nor news, save
what we all knew, that the Seneca scouts were now swarming like hornets
all around us ready to sting to death anyone who strayed out of bounds.
On the 18th the entire camp lay dull, patiently expectant of Clinton.
He did not come. It rained all night.
On Thursday, the 19th, it still rained steadily, but with no
violence--a fine, sweet, refreshing summer shower, made golden and
beautiful at intervals by the momentary prophecy of the sun; yet he did
not wholly reveal himself, though he smiled through the mist at us in
friendly fashion.
I had been out fishing for trouts very early, the rain making it
favourable for such pleasant sport, and my Indians and I had finished a
breakfast of corn porridge and the sweet-fleshed fishes that I took
from the brook where it falls into the Susquehanna.
It was still very early--near to five o'clock, I think--for the morning
gun had not yet bellowed, and the camp lay very still in the gentle and
fragrant rain.
A few moments before five I saw a company of Jersey troops march
silently down to the river, hang their cartouche-boxes on their
bayonets, and ford the stream, one holding to another, and belly deep
in the swollen flood.
Thinks I to myself, they are going to protect our cattle-guards; and I
turned and walked down to the ford to watch the crossing.
Then I saw why they had crossed: there were some people come down to
the landing place on the other bank in two batteaux and an Oneida
canoe--soldiers, boatmen, and two women; and our men were fording the
river to protect the crossing of this small flotilla.
I seated myself, wondering what foolhardy people these might be, and
trying to see more plainly the women in the two batteaux. As the
boatmen poled nearer, it seemed to me that some of the people looked
marvelously like the riflemen of my own corps; and a few moments later
I sprang to my feet astounded, for of the two women in the nearest
batteau one was Lois de Contrecoeur and the other Lana Helmer.
Suddenly the Oneida canoe shot out from the farther shore, passed both
batteaux, paddles flashing, and came darting toward the landing where I
stood. Two riflemen were in it; one rose as the canoe's nose grated on
the gravel, cast aside the bow-paddle, balanced himself toward the bow
with both hands, and leaped ashore, waving at me a gay greeting.
"My God!" said I excitedly, as Boyd ran lightly up the slope. "Are you
stark mad to bring ladies into this damnable place?"
"There are other women, too. Why, even that pretty jade, Dolly Glenn,
is coming! What could I do? The General himself permitted it. Miss de
Contrecoeur and Lana heard that a number of women were already here,
and so come for a frolic they must."
"Who accompanies them? I see no older woman yonder."
"Mrs. Sabin, the lady of Captain Sabin, Staff Commissary of Issues."
"Where is she, then?"
"We left her with the army at the Ouleout."
"Where do you propose to quarter these ladies?"
"We understand that you have four block-forts mounting cannon. That
would argue barracks. Therefore, I don't think the danger is very
considerable. Do you?"
"There is danger, of course," I said. "The entire Seneca nation is here
with Indian Butler and Brant."
"Well, then, we'll turn your Butler into a turn-spit, and make of your
wild Brant a domestic gander!"
He spoke coolly, a slight smile on his eager, handsome features. And I
wondered how he could make a jest of this business, and how he could
have permitted so mad a prank if he truly entertained any very deep
regard for Lana Helmer.
"Danger," I repeated coldly. "Yes, there is a-plenty of that
hereabouts, what with the Seneca scalping parties combing the woods
around us, and the cattle-guard fired upon in plain sight of
headquarters."
"Well, there were and still are some few scalping parties hanging
around Otsego. I myself see no real reason why the ladies should not
pay us a visit here, have their frolic, and later return with the
heavier artillery down the river to Easton. Or, if they choose, they
shall await our return from Catharines-town."
"And if we do not return? Have you thought of that, Boyd?"
"You shall not conjure me with any such forebodings!" he laughed. "This
raid of ours will be no very great or fearsome affair. They'll
run--your Brants and Butlers--I warrant you. And we'll follow and burn
their towns. Then, like the French king of old, down hill we'll all go
strutting, you and I and the army, Loskiel; and no great harm done to
anybody or anything, save to the Senecas' squash harvest, and the
sensitive feelings of Walter Butler!"
While he was speaking, I kept my eye on the slow batteau which led.
Three boatmen poled it; Lois and Lana sat in the middle; behind them
crouched two riflemen, long weapons ready, the ringed coon-tail
floating in the breeze.
Neither of the ladies had yet recognized me; Lana leaned lightly
against Lois, her cheek resting on her companion's shoulder.
A black rage against Boyd rose suddenly in my breast; and so savage and
abrupt was the emotion that I could scarce stifle and subdue it.
"It is wrong for them to come," I said with an effort to speak calmly,
"----utterly and wickedly wrong. Our block-forts are not finished. And
when they are they will be more or less vulnerable. I can not
understand why you did not make every effort to prevent their coming
here."
"I made every proper effort," he said carelessly. "What man is vain
enough to believe he can influence a determined woman?"
I did not like what he said, and so made him no answer.
"Is your camp still asleep?" he asked, yawning.
"Yes. The morning gun is usually fired at six."
"Can you lodge us and bait us until I make my report?"
"I can lodge the ladies and give breakfast to you all. How near is our
main army?"
"Between twenty and thirty miles above--one can scarce tell the way
this accursed river winds about. Our men are exhausted. They'll not
arrive tonight. General Poor's men from this camp met us last night.
Clinton desired me to take a few riflemen and push forward; and the
ladies--except the fat one--begged so prettily to go with us that he
consented. So we took two empty batteaux and a canoe and came on in
advance, with no effort whatever."
"That was a rash business!" I said, controlling my anger. "The river
woods along the Ouleout swarm with Seneca scouts. Didn't you understand
that?"
"So I told 'em," he said, laughing, "but do you know, Loskiel, between
you and me I believe that your pretty inamorata really loves the thrill
of danger. And I know damned well that Lana Helmer loves it. For when
we came through without so much as sighting a muskrat, 'What!' says
she, 'Not a savage to be seen and not a shot fired! Lord,' says she, 'I
had as lief take the air on Bowling Green--there being some real peril
of beaux and macaronis!'"
Everything this man said now conspired to enrage me; and it was a
struggle for me to restrain the bitter affront ever twitching at my
lips for utterance. Perhaps I might not have restrained it any longer
had I not seen Lois lean suddenly forward in her seat, shade her eyes
with her hands, then stand up beside one of the boatmen. And I knew she
recognized me.
Instantly within me all anger, rancour, and even dread melted in the
warmer and more generous emotion which nigh overwhelmed me, so that for
an instant I could scarce see her for the glimmering of my eyes.
But that passed; I went down to the shore and stood there while the
clumsy boat swung inshore, the misty waves slapping at the bow and
side. The landing planks lay on the gravel. Boyd and I laid them. Lana,
wrapped in her camblet, crossed them first, giving me her hand with a
pale smile. I laid my lips to it; she passed, Boyd moving forward
beside her.
Then came Lois in her scarlet capuchin, eager and shy at the same time,
smiling, yet with fearfulness and tenderness so strangely blended that
ever her laughing eyes seemed close to tears and the lips that smiled
were tremulous.
"I came--you see.... Are you angry?" she asked as I bent low over her
little hand. "You will not chide me--will you, Euan?"
"No. What is done is done. Are you well, Lois?"
"Perfect in health, my friend. And if you truly are glad to see me,
then I am content. But I am also very wet, Euan, spite of my capuchin.
Lana and I have a common box. It belongs to her. May our boatmen carry
it ashore?"
I gave brief directions to the men, returned the smiling salute of my
wet riflemen from the other boat now drawing heavily inshore, and
climbed the grassy bank with Lois to where Lana and Boyd stood under
the trees awaiting us.
"I have but one bush-hut to offer you at present," I said. "Proper
provision in barracks will be made, no doubt, as soon as the General
learns who it is who has honoured him so unexpectedly with a visit."
"That's why we came, Euan--to honour General Sullivan," said Lois
demurely. "Did we not, Lanette?"
Then again I noticed that the old fire, the old gaiety in Lana Helmer
had been almost quenched. For instead of a saucy reply she only smiled;
and even her eyes seemed spiritless as they rested on me a moment, then
turned wearily elsewhere.
"You are much fatigued," I said to Lois.
"I? No. But my poor Lana slept very badly in the boat. Before dawn we
went ashore for an hour's rest. That seemed sufficient for me, but
Lana, poor dove, did not profit, I fear. Did you, dearest?"
"Very little," said Lana, forcing a gaiety she surely did not inspire
in others with her haunted eyes that looked at everything, yet saw
nothing--or so it seemed to me.
As we came to our bush-huts, Lois caught sight of the Sagamore for the
first time, and held out both hands with a pretty cry of recognition:
"Nai, Mayaro!"
The Sagamore turned in silent astonishment; though when he saw Boyd
there also his features became smooth and blank again. But he came
forward with stately grace to welcome her; and, bending his crested
head, took her hands and laid them lightly over his heart.
"Nai, Lois!" he exclaimed emphatically.
"Itoh, Mayaro!" she replied gaily, pressing his hands in hers. "I am
that contented to see you! Are you not amazed to see me here?" she
insisted, mischievously amused at his unaltered features.
The Sagamore said smilingly:
"When she wills it, who can follow the Rosy-throated Pigeon in her
swift flight? Not the Enchantress in the moon. Tharon alone, O
Rosy-throated One!"
"The wild pigeon has outwitted you all, has she not, Mayaro, my friend?"
"Nakwah! Let my brother Loskiel deny it, then. I, a Sagamore, know
better than to deny a fire its ashes, or a wild pigeon its magic
flight."
Boyd now spoke to the Mohican, who returned his greeting courteously,
but very gravely. I then made the Mohican known to Lana, who gave him a
lifeless hand from the green folds of her camblet. My Oneidas, who had
finished their somewhat ominous painting, came from the other hut in
company with the Yellow Moth, the latter now painted for the first time
in a brilliant and poisonous yellow. All these people I made acquainted
one with another. Lois was very gracious to them all, using what Indian
words she knew in her winning greetings--and using them quite
wrongly--God bless her!
Then the Yellow Moth hung my new blue blanket, which I had lately drawn
from our Commissary of Issues, across the door of my hut; two huge
boatmen came up with Lana's box, swung between them, and deposited it
within the hut.
"By the time you are ready," said I, "we will have a breakfast for you
such as only the streams of this country can afford."
The six o'clock gun awoke the camp and found me already at the
General's tent, awaiting permission to see him.
He seemed surprised that Clinton had allowed any ladies to accompany
the Otsego army, but it was evident that the happiness and relief he
experienced at learning that Clinton was on the Ouleout had put him
into a most excellent humour. And he straightway sent an officer with
orders to remove Lana's box to Block-Fort No. 2 in the new fort, where
were already domiciled the wives of two sergeants and a corporal, and
gave me an order assigning to Lois and Lana a rough loft there.
But the General's chief concern and curiosity was for Boyd and the
eight riflemen who had come through from the Ouleout as the first
advanced guard of that impatiently awaited Otsego army; and I heard
Boyd telling him very gaily that they were bringing more than two
hundred batteaux, loaded with provisions. And, this, I think, was the
best news any man could have brought to our Commander at that moment.
One thing I do know; from that time Boyd was an indulged favourite of
our General, who admired his many admirable qualities, his gay spirits,
his dashing enterprise, his utter fearlessness; and who overlooked his
military failings, which were rashness to the point of folly, and a
tendency to obey orders in a manner which best suited his own ideas.
Captain Cummings was a far safer man.
I say this with nothing in my heart but kindness for Boyd. God knows I
desire to do him justice--would wish it for him even more than for
myself. And I not only was not envious of his good fortune in so
pleasing our General, but was glad of it, hoping that this honour might
carry with it a new and graver responsibility sufficiently heavy to
curb in him what was least admirable and bring out in him those nobler
qualities so desirable in officer and man.
When I returned to my hut there were many fish smoking hot on their bark
plates, and Lana and Lois in dry woollen dresses, worsted stockings,
and stout, buckled shoon, already at porridge.
So I sat down with them and ate, and it was, or seemed to be, a happy
company there before our little hut, with officers and troops passing
to and fro and glancing curiously at us, and our Indians squatted
behind us all a-row, and shining up knife and hatchet and rifle; and
the bugle-horns of the various regiments sounding prettily at
intervals, and the fifers and drummers down by the river at distant
morning practice.
"You love best the bellowing conch-horn of the rifles," observed Lana
to Lois, with a touch of her old-time impudence.
"I?" exclaimed Lois.
"You once told me that every blast of it sets you a-trembling,"
insisted Lana. "Naturally I take it that you quiver with
delight--having some friend in that corps----"
"Lana! Have done, you little baggage!"
"Lord!" said Lana. "'Twas Major Parr I meant. What does an infant
Ensign concern such aged dames as you and I?"
Lois, lovely under her mounting colour, continued busy with her
porridge. Lana said in my ear:
"She is a wild thing, Euan, and endures neither plaguing nor wooing
easily. How I have gained her I do not know.... Perhaps because I am
aging very fast these days, and she hath a heart as tender as a forest
dove's."
Lois looked up, seeing us whispering together.
"Uncouth manners!" said she. "I am greatly ashamed of you both."
I thought to myself, wondering, how utter a change had come over the
characters of these two in twice as many weeks! Lois had now something
of that quick and mischievous gaiety that once was Lana's; and the
troubled eyes that once belonged to Lois now were hers no longer, but
Lana's. It seemed very strange and sad to me.
"Had I a dozen beaux," quoth Lois airily, "I might ask of one o' them
another bit of trout." And, "Oh!" she exclaimed, in affected surprise,
as I aided her. "It would seem that I have at least one young man who
aspires to that ridiculous title. Do you covet it, Euan? And humbly?"
"Do I merit it?" I asked, laughing.
"Upon my honour," she exclaimed, turning to Lana, "I believe the poor
young gentleman thinks he does merit the title. Did you ever hear of
such insufferable conceit? And merely because he offers me a bit of
trout."
"I caught them, too," said I. "That should secure me in my title."
"Oh! You caught them too, did you! And so you deem yourself entitled to
be a beau of mine? Lana, do you very kindly explain to the unfortunate
Ensign that you and I were accustomed at Otsego to a popularity and an
adulation of which he has no conception. Colonels and majors were at
our feet. Inform him very gently, Lana."
"Yes," said Lana, "you behaved very indiscreetly at Otsego Camp, dear
one--sitting alone for hours and hours over this young gentleman's
letters----"
"Traitor!" exclaimed Lois, blushing. "It was a letter from his
solicitor, Mr. Hake, that you found me doting on!"
"Did you then hear from Mr. Hake?" I asked, laughing and very happy.
"Indeed I did, by every post! That respectable Albany gentleman seemed
to feel it his duty to write me by every batteau and inquire concerning
my health, happiness, and pleasure, and if I lacked anything on earth
to please me. Was it not most extraordinary behaviour, Euan?"
She was laughing when she spoke, and for a moment her eyes grew
strangely tender, but they brightened immediately and she tossed her
head.
"Oh, Lana!" said she. "I think I may seriously consider Mr. Hake and
his very evident intentions. So I shall require no more beaux, Euan,
and thank you kindly for volunteering. Besides, if I want 'em, this
camp seems moderately furnished with handsome and gallant young
officers," she added airily, glancing around her. "Lana! Do you please
observe that tall captain with the red facings! And the other
staff-major yonder in blue and buff! Is he not beautiful as Apollo? And
I make no doubt that this agreeable young Ensign of ours will presently
make them known to us for our proper diversion."
Somehow, now, with the prospect of all these officers besetting her
with their civilities and polite assiduities, nothing of the old and
silly jealousy seemed to stir within me. Perhaps because, although for
days I had not seen her, I knew her better. And also I had begun to
know myself. Even though she loved not me in the manner I desired, yet
the lesser, cruder, and more unworthy solicitude which at first seemed
to have possessed me in her regard was now gone. And if inexperience
and youth had inspired me with unworthy jealousies I do not know; but I
do know that I now felt myself older--years older than when first I
knew Lois; and perhaps my being so honestly in love with her wrought
the respectable change in me. For real love ages the mind, even when it
makes more youthful the body, and so controls both body and mind. And I
think it was something that way with me.
Presently, as we sat chattering there, came men to take away Lana's box
to Block-House No. 2 on the peninsula. So Lana went into the bush-hut
and refilled and locked the box, and then we all walked together to the
military works which were being erected on a cleared knoll overlooking
both rivers, and upon which artillerymen were now mounting the
three-pounder and the cohorn, or "grasshopper," as our men had named
it, because our artillery officers had taken it from its wooden
carriage and had mounted it on a tripod. And at every discharge it
jumped into the air and kicked over backward.
This miniature fortress, now called Fort Sullivan, was about three
hundred feet square, with strong block-forts at the four corners, so
situated as to command both rivers; and these fortifications were now
so nearly completed that the men of the invalid corps who were to
garrison the place had already marched into their barracks, and were
now paraded for inspection.
The forts had been very solidly constructed of great logs, the serrated
palisade, deeply and solidly embedded, rose twelve feet high. A rifle
platform ran inside this, connecting the rough barracks and stables,
which also were built of logs, the crevices stuffed with moss and
smeared and plastered with blue clay from the creek.
These, with the curtain, block-forts, and a deep ditch over which was a
log bridge, composed the military works at Tioga; and this was the
place into which we now walked, a sentry directing us to Block-House
No. 2, which overlooked the Chemung.
And no sooner had we entered and climbed the ladder to the women's
quarters overhead, than:
"What luxury!" exclaimed Lois, looking down at her bed of fresh-cut
balsam, over which their blankets had been cast. "Could any reasonable
woman demand more? With a full view of the pretty river in the rain,
and a real puncheon floor, and a bed of perfume to dream on, and a
brave loop to shoot from! What more could a vain maid ask?" She glanced
at me with sweet and humorous eyes, saying: "Fort Orange is no safer
than this log bastion, so scowl on me no more, Euan, but presently take
Lanette and me to the parapet where other and lovelier wonders are
doubtless to be seen."
"What further wonders?" asked Lana indifferently.
"Why, sky and earth and river, dear, and the little dicky birds all
a-preening under this sweet, sunny veil of rain. Is not all this
mystery of nature wonderful enough to lure us to the rifle-platform?"
Said Lana listlessly: "I had liefer court a deeper mystery."
"Which, dear one?"
"Sleep," said Lana briefly; and I saw how pale she was, kneeling there
beside the opened box and sorting out the simple clothing they had
brought with them.
For a few minutes longer we conversed, talking of Otsego and of our
friends there; and I learned how Colonel Gansevoort had left with his
regiment and Lieutenant-Colonel Willet, and was marching hither with
Clinton after all.
A soldier brought a wooden bowl, an iron sap-kettle full of sweet
water, a hewn bench, and nailed up a blanket cutting the room in two.
Their quarters were now furnished.
I pushed aside the blanket, walked to the inner loop, and gazed down on
the miniature parade where the invalids were now being inspected by
Colonel Shreve. When I returned, Lana had changed to a levete and was
lying on her balsam couch, cheek on hand, looking up at Lois, who knelt
beside her on the puncheon floor, smoothing back her thick, bright
hair. And in the eyes of these two was an expression the like of which
I had never before seen, and I stepped back instinctively, like a man
who intrudes on privacy unawares.
"Come in, Euan!" cried Lois, with a gaiety which seemed slightly
forced; and I came, awkwardly, not meeting their eyes, and made for the
ladder to get myself below.
Whereat both laughed. Lois rose and went behind the blanket to the
loop, and Lana said, with a trace of her former levity:
"Broad-brim! Do you fly blushing from my levete? The Queen of France
receives in scanter attire, I hear. Sit you on yonder bench and play
courtier amiably for once."
She seemed so frail and white and young, lying there, her fair hair
unpowdered and tumbled about her face--so childlike and helpless--that
a strange and inexplicable apprehension filled me; and, scarce thinking
what I did, I went over to her and knelt down beside her, putting one
arm around her shoulders.
Her expression, which had been smiling and vaguely audacious, changed
subtly. She lay looking up at me very wistfully for a moment, then
lifted her hands a little way. I laid them to my lips, looking over
them down into her altered eyes.
"Always," she said under her breath, "always you have been kind and
true, Euan, even when I have used you with scant courtesy."
"You have never used me ill."
"No--only to plague you as a girl torments what she truly loves....
Lois and I have spoken much of you together----" She turned her head.
"Where are you, sweeting?"
Lois came from behind the blanket and knelt down so close to me that
the fragrance of her freshened the air; and once again, as it happened
at the first day's meeting in Westchester, the same thrill invaded me.
And I thought of the wild rose that starlight night, and how fitly was
it her symbol and her flower.
Lana looked at us both, unsmiling; then drew her hands from mine and
crook'd her arms behind her neck, cradling her head on them, looking at
us both all the while. Presently her lids drooped on her white cheeks.
When we rose on tiptoe, I thought she was asleep, but Lois was not
certain; and as we crept out onto the rifle-platform and seated
ourselves in a sheltered corner under the parapet, she said uneasily:
"Lanette is a strange maid, Euan. At first I knew she disliked me.
Then, of a sudden, one day she came to me and clung like a child
afraid. And we loved from that minute.... It is strange."
"Is she ill?"
"In mind, I think."
"Why?"
"I do not know, Euan."
"Is it love, think you--her disorder?"
"I do not know, I tell you. Once I thought it was--that. But knew not
how to be certain."
"Does Boyd still court her?"
"No--I do not know," she said with a troubled look.
"Is it that affair which makes her unhappy?"
"I thought so once. They were ever together. Then she avoided him--or
seemed to. It was Betty Bleecker who interfered between them. For Mrs.
Bleecker was very wrathful, Euan, and Lana's indiscretions madded
her.... There was a scene.... So Boyd came no more, save when other
officers came, which was every day. Somehow I have never been certain
that he and Lana did not meet in secret when none suspected."
"Have you proof?" I asked, cold with rage.
She shook her head, and her gaze grew vague and remote. After a while
she seemed to put away her apprehensions, and, smiling, she turned to
me, challenging me with her clear, sunny eyes:
"Come, Euan, you shall do me reason, now that my curly pate is innocent
of powder, no French red to tint my lips and hide my freckles, and but
a linsey-woolsey gown instead of chintz and silk to cover me! So tell
me honestly, does not the enchantment break that for a little while
seemed to hold you near me?"
"Do you forget," said I, "that I first saw my enchantress in rags and
tattered shoon?"
"Oh!" she said, tossing her pretty head. "Extremes attract all men. But
now in this sober and common guise of every day, I am neither
Cinderella nor yet the Princess--merely a frowsy, rustic, freckled maid
with a mouth somewhat too large for beauty, and the clipped and curly
poll of a careless boy. And I desire to know, once for all, how I now
suit you, Euan."
"You are perfection--once for all."
"I? What obstinate foolishness you utter! In all seriousness--"
"You are--more beautiful than ever--in all seriousness!"
"What folly!" She began to laugh nervously, then shrugged her
shoulders, adding: "This young man is plainly partizan and deaf to
reason."
"Being in love."
"You! In love! What nonsense!"
"Do you doubt it?"
"Oh!" she said carelessly. "You are in love with love--as all men
are--and not particularly in love with me. Men, my dear Euan, are
gamblers. When first you saw me in tatters, you laid a wager with
yourself that I'd please you in silks. A gay hazard! A sporting wager!
And straight you dressed me up to suit you; and being a man, and
therefore conceited, you could scarcely admit that you had lost your
wager to your better senses. Could you? But now you shall admit that in
this frowsy, woollen gown the magic of both Cinderella and the Princess
vanishes with yesterday's enchantment, and, instead of Chloe, pink and
simpering, only a sturdy comrade stands revealed who now, as guerdon
for the future, strikes hands with you--like this! Koue!" And with the
clear and joyous cry on her lips she struck my palm violently with
hers, nor winced under my quick-closing grip.
"Is all now clear and plain between us, Euan?" she inquired. And it
seemed to me that her eagerness and fervour rang false.
"You can not love me, then?" I asked in a low voice.
"I? What has love to do with us--here in the woods--and I without
knowledge and experience----"
"You do not love me, then?"
"I can not."
"Why?"
She made no answer, but bit her lip.
"You need not reply," said I. "Yet--that night I left Otsego--and when
I passed you in the dark--I thought----"
"My heart was full that night! What comrade could feel less and still
possess a human heart?" she said almost sullenly.
"Your letter--and mine--encouraged me to believe----"
"I know," she said, with the curt and almost breathless impatience of
haste, "but have I ever denied our bond of intimacy, Euan? Closer bond
have I with no man. But it must be a comrade's bond between us.... I
meant to make that plain to you--and doubtless, my heart being
full--and I but a girl--conveyed to you--by what I said--and did----"
"Lois! Is it not in you to love me as a woman loves a man?"
"I told you that when the time arrived I would doubtless be what you
wish me to be----"
"You can love me, then?"
"How do I know? You perplex and vex me. Who else would I love but you?
Who else is there in the world--except my mother?"
There was a silence; then I said:
"Has this passionate quest of her so wholly absorbed and controlled you
that all else counts as nothing?"
"Yes, yes! You know it. You knew it at Otsego! Nothing else matters. I
will not permit anything else to matter! And, lest you deem me cold,
thankless, inhuman, ask of yourself, Euan, why such a lonely girl as I
should close her eyes and stop her ears and lock her heart and--and
turn her face away when the man--to whom she owes all--to whom she
is--utterly devoted--urges her toward emotions--toward matters strange
to her--and too profound as yet. So I ask you, for a time, to let what
sleeps within us both lie sleeping, undisturbed. There is a love more
natural, more imperious, more passionate still; and--it has led me
here! And I will not confuse it with any other sentiment; nor share it
with any man--not even with you--dear as you have become to me--lonely
as I am,--no, not even with you will I share it! For I have vowed that
I shall never slake my thirst with love save first in her dear
embrace.... After these wistful, stark, and barren years--loveless,
weary, naked, and unkind----" Suddenly she covered her face with her
hands, bowing her head to her knees.
"Yet you bid me hope, Lois?" I asked under my breath.
She nodded.
"You make me happy beyond words," I whispered.
She looked up from her hands:
"Is that all you required to make you happy?"
"Can I ask more?"
"I--I thought men were more ruthless--more imperious and hotly
impatient with the mistress of their hearts--if truly I am mistress of
yours, as you tell me."
"I am impatient only for your happiness; ruthless only to secure it."
"For my happiness? Not for your own?"
"How can that come to me save when yours comes to you?"
"Oh!... I did not understand. I had not thought it mattered very
greatly to men, so that they found their happiness--so that they found
contentment in their sweethearts' yielding.... Then my surrender would
mean nothing to you unless I yielded happily?"
"Nothing. Good God! In what school have you learned of love!"
She nodded thoughtfully, looking me in the eyes.
"What you tell me, Euan, is pleasant to think on. It reassures and
comforts; nay, it is the sweetest thing you ever said to me--that you
could find no happiness in my yielding unless I yield happily.... Why,
Euan, that alone would win me--were it time. It clears up much that I
have never understood concerning you.... Men have not used me
gently.... And then you came.... And I thought you must be like the
others, being a man, except that you are the only one to whom I was at
all inclined--perhaps because you were from the beginning gentler and
more honest with me.... What a way to win a woman's heart! To seek her
happiness first of all!... Could you give me to another--if my
happiness required it?"
"What else could I do, Lois?"
"Would you do that!" she demanded hotly.
"Have I any choice?"
"Not if your strange creed be sincere. Is it sincere?"
"There is no other creed for those who really love."
"You are wrong," she said angrily, looking at me with tightened lips.
"How wrong?"
"Because--I would not give you to another woman, though you cried out
for her till the heavens fell!"
I began to laugh, but her eyes still harboured lightning.
"You should not go to her, whether or not you loved her!" she repeated.
"I would not have it. I would not endure it!"
"Yet--if I loved another----"
"No! That is treason! Your happiness should be in me. And if you
wavered I would hold you prisoner against your treacherous and very
self!"
"How could you hold me?"
"What? Why--why--I----" She sat biting her scarlet lips and thinking,
with straight brows deeply knitted, her greyish-purple eyes fixed hard
on me. Then a slight colour stained her cheeks, and she looked
elsewhere, murmuring: "I do not know how I would hold you prisoner. But
I know I should do it, somehow."
"I know it, too," said I, looking at my ring she wore.
She blushed hotly: "It is well that you do, Euan. Death is the dire
penalty if my prisoner escapes!" She hesitated, bit her lip, then added
faintly: "Death for me, I mean." After a moment she slowly lifted her
eyes to mine, and so still and clear were they that it seemed my regard
plunged to the very depths of her.
"You do love me then," I said, taking her hand in mine.
Her face paled, and she caught her breath.
"Will you not wait--a little while--before you court me?" she faltered.
"Will you not wait because I ask it of you?"
"Yes, I will wait."
"Nor speak of love--until----"
"Nor speak of love until you bid me speak."
"Nor--caress me--nor touch me--nor look in my eyes--this way----" Her
hand had melted somehow closely into mine. We both were trembling now;
and she withdrew her hand and slowly pressed it close against her
heart, gazing at me in a white and childish wonder, as though dumb and
reproachful of some wound that I had dealt her. And as I saw her there,
so hurt and white and sweet, all quivering under the first swift
consciousness of love, I trembled, too, with the fierce desire to take
her in my arms and whisper what was raging in my heart of passionate
assurance and devotion.
And I said nothing, nor did she. But presently the wild-rose tint crept
back into her pale cheeks, and her head dropped, and she sat with eyes
remote and vaguely sweet, her hands listless in her lap.
And I, my heart in furious protest, condemned to batter at its walls in
a vain summons to the silent lips that should have voiced its every
beat, remained mute in futile and impotent adoration of the miracle
love had wrought under my very eyes.
Consigned to silence, condemned to patience super-human, I scarce knew
how to conduct. And so cruelly the restraint cut and checked me that
what with my perplexity, my happiness, and my wretchedness, I was in a
plight.
No doubt the spectacle that my features presented--a very playground
for my varying emotions--was somewhat startling to a maid so new at
love. For, glancing with veiled eyes at me, presently her own eyes flew
open wide. And:
"Euan!" she faltered. "Is aught amiss with you? Are you ill, dear lad?
And have not told me?"
Whereat I was confused and hot and vexed; and I told her very plainly
what it was that ailed me. And now mark! In place of an understanding
and sympathy and a nice appreciation of my honourable discomfort, she
laughed; and as her cheeks cooled she laughed the more, tossing back
her pretty head while her mirth, now uncontrolled, rippled forth till
the wild birds, excited, joined in with restless chirping, and a
squirrel sprung his elfin rattle overhead.
"And that," said I, furious, "is what I get for deferring to your
wishes! I've a mind to kiss you now!"
Breathless, her hands pressed to her breast, she looked at me, and made
as though to speak, but laughter seized her and she surrendered to it
helplessly.
Whereat I sprang to my feet and marched to the parapet, and she after
me, laying her hand on my arm.
"Dear lad--I do not mean unkindness.... But it is all so new to me--and
you are so tall a man to pull such funny faces--as though love was a
stomach pain----" She swayed, helpless again with laughter, still
clinging to my arm.
"If you truly find my features ridiculous----" I began, but her hand
instantly closed my lips. I kissed it, however, with angry
satisfaction, and she took it away hurriedly.
"Are you ashamed--you great, sulky and hulking boy--to take my harmless
pleasantry so uncouthly? And how is this?" says she, stamping her foot.
"May I not laugh a little at my lover if I choose? I will have you
know, Euan, that I do what pleases me with mine own, and am not to sit
in dread of your displeasure if I have a mind to laugh."
"It hurt me that you should make a mockery----"
"I made no mockery! I laughed. And you shall know that one day, please
God, I shall laugh at you, plague you, torment you, and----" She looked
at me smilingly, hesitating; then in a low voice: "All my caprices you
shall endure as in duty bound.... Because your reward shall be--the
adoration of one who is at heart--your slave already.... And your
desires will ever be her own--are hers already, Euan.... Have I made
amends?"
"More fully than----"
"Then be content," she said hastily, "and pull me no more lugubrious
faces to fright me. Lord! What a vexing paradox is this young man who
sits and glowers and gnaws his lips in the very moment of his victory,
while I, his victim, tranquil and happy in defeat, sit calmly telling
my thoughts like holy beads to salve my new-born soul. Ai-me! There are
many things yet to be learned in this mad world of men."
We leaned over the parapet, shoulder to shoulder, looking down upon the
river. The rain had ceased, but the sun gleamed only at intervals, and
briefly.
After a moment she turned and looked at me with her beautiful and
candid eyes--the most honest eyes I ever looked upon.
"Euan," she said in a quiet voice, "I know how hard it is for us to
remain silent in the first flush of what has so sweetly happened to us
both. I know how natural it is for you to speak of it and for me to
listen. But if I were to listen, now, and when one dear word of yours
had followed another, and the next another still; and when our hands
had met, and then our lips--alas, dear lad, I had become so wholly
yours, and you had so wholly filled my mind and heart that--I do not
know, but I deeply fear--something of my virgin resolution might relax.
The inflexible will--the undeviating obstinacy with which I have
pursued my quest as far as this forest place, might falter, be swerved,
perhaps, by this new and other passion--for I am as yet ignorant of its
force and possibilities. I would not have it master me until I am free
to yield. And that freedom can come happily and honourably to me only
when I set my foot in Catharines-town. Do you understand me, Euan?"
"Yes."
"Then--we will not speak of love. Or even let the language of our eyes
trouble each other with all we may not say and venture.... You will not
kiss me, will you? Before I ask it of you?"
"No."
"Under no provocation? Will you--even if I should ask it?"
"No."
"I will tell you why, Euan. I have promised myself--it is odd, too, for
I first thought of it the day I first laid eyes on you. I said to
myself that, as God had kept me pure in spite of all--I should wish
that the first one ever to touch my lips should be my mother. And I
made that vow--having no doubt of keeping it--until I saw you again----"
"When?"
"When you came to me in Westchester before the storm."
"Then!" I exclaimed, amazed.
"Is it not strange, Euan? I know not how it was with me or why, all
suddenly, I seemed to know--seemed to catch a sudden glimmer of my
destiny--a brief, confusing gleam. And only seemed to fear and hate
you--yet, it was not hate or fear, either.... And when I came to you in
the rain--there at the stable shed--and when you followed, and gave
your ring--such hell and heaven as awakened in my heart you could not
fathom--nor could I--nor can I yet understand.... Do you think I loved
you even then? Not knowing that I loved you?"
"How could you love me then?"
"God knows.... And afterward, on the rock in the moonlight--as you lay
there asleep--oh, I knew not what so moved me to leave you my message
and a wild-rose lying there.... It was my destiny--my destiny! I seemed
to fathom it.... For when you spoke to me on the parade at the Middle
Fort, such a thrill of happiness possessed me----"
"You rebuked and rebuked me, sweeting!"
"Because all my solicitude was for you, and how it might disgrace you."
"I could have knelt there at your ragged feet, in sight of all the
fort!"
"Could you truly, Euan?"
"As willingly as I kneel at prayer!"
"How dear and gallant and sweet you are to me----" She broke off in
dismay. "Ai-me! Heaven pity us both, for we are saying what should wait
to be said, and have talked of love only while vowing not to do so!...
Let loose my hand, Euan--that somehow has stolen into yours. Ai-me!
This is a very maze I seem to travel in, with every pitfall hiding all
I would avoid, and everywhere ambush laid for me.... Listen, dear lad,
I am more pitifully at your mercy than I dreamed of. Be faithful to my
faithless self that falters. Point out the path from your own strength
and compassion.... I--I must find my way to Catharines-town before I
can give myself to thoughts of you--to dreams of all that you inspire
in me."
"Listen, Lois. This fort is as far as you may go."
"What!"
"Truly, dear maid. It is not alone the perils of an unknown country
that must check you here. There is a danger that you know not of--that
you never even heard of."
"A danger?"
"Worse. A threat of terrors hellish, inconceivable, terrible beyond
words."
"What do you mean? The hatchet? The stake? Dear lad, may I not then
venture what you soldiers brave so lightly?"
"It is not what we brave that threatens you!"
"What then?" she asked, startled.
"Dear did you ever learn that you are a 'Hidden Child'?"
"What is that, Euan?"
"Then you do not know?"
She shook her head.
And so I told her; told her also all that we had guessed concerning
her; how that her captive mother, terrified by Amochol and his red
acolytes, had concealed her, consecrated her, and, somehow, had found a
runner to carry her beyond the doors of the Long House to safety.
This runner must have written the Iroquois message which I had read
amid the corn-husks of her garret. It was all utterly plain and
horrible now, to her and to myself.
As for the moccasins, the same faithful runner must have carried them
to her, year after year, and taken back with him to the desolate mother
the assurance that her child was living and still undiscovered and
unharmed by Amochol.
All this I made plain to her; and I also told her that I, too, was of
the Hidden Ones; and made it most clear to her who I really was. And I
told her of the Cat-People, and of the Erie, and how the Sorcerer had
defied us and boasted that the Hidden Child should yet die strangled
upon the altar of Red Amochol.
She was quiet and very pale while I was speaking, and at moments her
grey eyes widened with the unearthly horror of the thing; but never a
tremour touched her, nor did lid or lips quiver or her gaze falter.
And when I had done she remained silent, looking out over the river at
our feet, which was now all crinkling with the sun's bright network
through the tracery of leaves.
"There is a danger to you," I said, "which will not cease until this
army has left the Red Priest dead amid the sacrilegious ashes of his
own vile altar. My Indians have made a vow to leave no Erie, no
blasphemous and perverted priest alive. Amochol, the Wyoming Witch, the
Toad-Woman--all that accursed spawn of Frontenac must die.
"Major Parr is of the same opinion; Clinton sees the importance of
this, having had the sense to learn of Amherst how to stop the Seneca
demons with a stout hempen rope. Two Sachems he hung, and the whole
nation cowed down in terror of him while his authority remained.
"But Amherst left us; and the yelps of the Toad-Woman aroused the
Sorcerers from their torpor. But I swear to you by St. Catharine, who
is the saint of the Iroquois also, that the sway of Amochol shall end,
and that he shall lie on his own bloody altar, nor die there before he
sees the flames of Catharines-town touch the very heaven of an
affronted God!"
"Can you do this?"
"With God's help and General Sullivan's," I said cheerfully. "For I
daily pray to the One, and I have the promise of the other that before
our marching army alarms Catharines-town, I and my Indians and Boyd and
his riflemen shall strike the Red Priest there at the Onon-hou-aroria."
"What is that, Euan?"
"Their devil-rites--an honest feast which they have perverted. It was
the Dream Feast, Lois, but Amochol has made of it an orgy unspeakable,
where human sacrifices are offered to the Moon Witch, Atensi, and to
Leshi and the Stone-Throwers, and the Little People--many of which were
not goblins and ghouls until Amochol so decreed them."
"When is this feast to be held in Catharines-town?"
"On the last day of this month. Until then you must not leave this
camp; and after the army marches you must not go outside this fort.
Amochol's arm is long. His acolytes are watching. And now I think you
understand at last."
She nodded. Presently she rested her pale cheek on her arms and looked
at the reddening edges of the woods. Northwest lay Catharines-town, so
Mayaro said. And into the northwest her grey eyes now gazed, calmly and
steadily, while the sun went out behind the forest and the high heavens
were plumed with fire.
Under us the river ran, all pink and primrose, save where deep, glassy
shadows bounded it under either bank. The tips of the trees glowed with
rosy flame, faded to ashes, then, burnt out, stood once more dark and
serrated against the evening sky.
Suddenly an unearthly cry rang out from somewhere close to the river
bank up stream. Instantly a sentry on the parapet near us fired his
piece.
"Oh, God! What is it!" faltered Lois, grasping my arm. But I sprang for
the ladder and ran down it; and the scattered soldiers and officers
below on the parade were already running some grasping their muskets,
others drawing pistols and hangers.
We could hear musketry firing ahead, and drums beating to arms in our
camp behind us.
"The cattle-guard!" panted an officer at my elbow as we ran up stream
along the river-bank. "The Senecas have made their kill again, God
curse them!"
It was so. Out of the woods came running our frightened cattle, with
the guard plodding heavily on their flanks; and in the rear two of our
soldiers urged them on with kicks and blow; two more retreated
backward, facing the dusky forest with levelled muskets, and a third
staggered beside them, half carrying, half trailing a man whose head
hung down crimsoning the leaves as it dragged over them.
He had been smoking a cob pipe when the silent assassin's hatchet
struck him, and the pipe now remained clenched between his set teeth.
At first, for the dead leaves stuck to him, we could not see that he
had been scalped, but when we turned him over the loose and horrible
features, all wrinkled where the severed brow-muscles had released the
skin, left us in no doubt.
"This man never uttered that abominable cry," I said, shuddering. "Is
there yet another missing from the guard?"
"Oh, no, sir," said the soldier who had dragged him. "That there was a
heifer bawling when them devils cut her throat."
He stood scratching his head and gazing blankly down at his dead
comrade.
"Jesus," he drawled. "What be I a-goin' for to tell his woman now?"