COLONEL TELFAIR was striding excitedly up and down the wide verandah,
lashing as he went at the tall riding boots he wore. His plum-colored,
long-skirted riding coat, his much-beruffled white shirt, and his
tight-fitting breeches were dusty and spattered with dried mud. It
needed not the white-lathered horse with drooping head that a negro
was leading from the horseblock to show that he had ridden fast and
furiously.
From one end of the porch to the other he strode, stopping at each to
scan the landscape, then restlessly paced back again. A dozen negroes
racing in every direction confirmed the urgent haste that his manner
showed.
Abruptly he paused as Jack, followed by Cato, came hurrying up the
drive. “Hurry, sir, hurry,” he bawled. “Don’t keep me waiting all day.”
Jack quickened his steps. “I didn’t know you were back, father,”
he declared, as he came close. “I’m glad you are, sir. I’ve news,
important news!”
The elder Telfair scowled. “News, have you, sir?” he rumbled. “So
have I. Come inside, quick, and we’ll exchange.” Turning, he led
the way through a deep hall into a great room, whose oak-panelled
walls were hung with full-length portraits of dead and gone
Telfairs--distinguished men and women whose strong faces showed that
in their time they had cut a figure in the world. There he faced round.
“Now, sir, tell your news,” he ordered. “I’ll warrant it’s short and
foolish.”
“Perhaps!” Jack grinned; he and his father were excellent friends. “Did
you know, sir, that our kinsman, Delaroche Telfair, was dead, leaving a
daughter who is a ward of Tecumseh, the Shawnee chief?”
The elder Telfair blinked. “Good Lord!” he said, softly. He tottered a
step or two backward and dropped heavily into a chair. “You’ve had a
letter, too?” he gasped.
“A letter? No, sir; not a letter----”
“You must have, sir. Don’t trifle with me! I’m in no temper to stand
it. Who brought you the letter?”
“I haven’t any letter, father. I haven’t heard of any letter. I met an
Indian----”
“An Indian?”
“Yes. A Shawnee from Ohio, a messenger from Tecumseh----”
“Tecumseh! Good Lord! Do you know--But that can wait. Go on.”
“Delaroche seems to have pledged him to call on us in case certain
things happened. They have happened and he has sent. He wants me to
come and get the girl.”
“Good God!” muttered the elder man once more. “Look--look at this,
Jack!” He held out an open letter. “I got it at Montgomery, and I rode
like the devil to bring it, and here a murdering Shawnee gets ahead of
me and----” His words died away; clearly the situation was beyond him.
Jack took the letter doubtfully and unfolded it. Then he looked at his
father amazedly.
“It’s from Capron, the lawyer for the Telfair estates in France,”
interjected the elder man. “It’s in French, of course. Read it aloud!
Translate it as you go.”
Jack walked to the window, threw up the blind, and held the letter to
the light.
“My very dear sir,” he read. “It is my sad duty to apprise you that
my so justly honored patron, Louis, Count of Telfair, passed away on
the 30th ultimo, videlicet, December 30, 1811. The succession to the
title and the estate now falls to the descendants of his brother, M.
Delaroche Telfair, who, as you of course know, emigrated to America
in 1790 and settled at Gallipolis on the Ohio, which without doubt
is very close to your own estates in Alabama. Perhaps it is that you
have exchanged frequent visits with him and that his history and the
so sad circumstances of his death are to you of the most familiar. If
so, much of this letter is unnecessary.
“In the remote contingency, however, that you may not know of his
history in America, permit me to repeat the little that is known to
us here in France. It will call the attention; this:
“Among the papers of my so noble patron, just deceased, I have found
a letter, dated June 10, 1800, with the seal yet unbroken, which
appears to have reached the château Telfair many years ago but not
to have been brought to his lordship’s attention. Of a truth this is
not surprising, the year 1800 being of the most disturbed and the
years following being attended by turbulence both of politics and of
strife, during which his lordship seldom visited the château.
“This letter inclosed certificates of the marriage at Marietta, Ohio,
of M. Delaroche Telfair to Mlle. Margaret De la War, on June 18,
1794, and of the birth of a daughter, Estelle, on Oct. 9, 1795. The
originals appear to be on file at Marietta. M. Delaroche says that he
sends the copies as a precaution.
“No other information of father or daughter or of any other children
appears to be of record, but the late count had without a doubt
received further news, for he several times spoke to me of his so
sadly deceased brother.
“In default of a possible son the title of Count of Telfair devolves
on M. Brito Telfair, representative of the branch of the family so
execrated by his lordship now departed. Your own line comes last.
The estates go to the Lady Estelle Telfair, or, if she be deceased,
to Count Brito Telfair, whose ancestors have long been domiciled in
England.”
Jack looked up. “Brito Telfair!” he exclaimed. “That’s the name the
Indian mentioned. Who is he exactly?”
“He’s the head of the British branch. His people moved there a hundred
years or so ago, after the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes. We came
to America and they stopped in England. I understand he’s an officer in
the British army, heavily in debt, and a general roué. I reckon he’s
about forty years old.”
With a shrug of his shoulders--a trick inherited from his Gallic
ancestors--Jack resumed:
“Not knowing where to reach the Lady Estelle (or other descendants of
M. Delaroche) I address you, asking that you convey to her my most
humble felicitations. I can not close, my dear sir, without a word
of the caution. The Lady Estelle would appear to be about seventeen
years of age. Her property in France is of a value, ah! yes, but of
a value the most great. Adventurers will surely seek her out and
she will need friends. Above all she should not be allowed to fall
into the hands of M. Brito, who would undoubtedly wed her out of all
hand to gain possession of her estates. Both the late count and M.
Delaroche (when I knew him) hated and despised the English branch of
M. Brito. To you, beloved of my master the count, I appeal to save
and protect his heiress from those he so execrated. I have the honor,
my very dear sir, to be your obedient servant. Verbum sapientes satis
est.
HENRI CAPRON, avocat.
POSTSCRIPTUM.--I open this to add that I have just learned that M.
Brito sailed with his regiment for Montreal a month ago. He is of a
repute the most evil. If he gets possession of the Lady Estelle he
will without the doubt wed her, forcibly if need be. And it would
be of a shame the most profound if the Telfair estates should be
squandered in paying the debts of one so disreputable.”
Jack crumpled the letter in his hand. “I should think it would be,” he
cried. “Thank the Lord Tecumseh remembered Delaroche’s warning. But let
me tell you my story.”
Rapidly Jack recounted the circumstances of the Shawnee’s visit and
recited the message he had brought. “This explains everything,” he
ended. “Brito Telfair wants to get possession of the girl and marry her
before she knows anything about her rights. Well! He shan’t!”
Colonel Telfair laughed. “Lord! Jack! You’re heated,” he exclaimed.
“Brito Telfair probably isn’t much worse than other men of his age and
surroundings. You’ve got to allow for Capron’s prejudices, national and
personal. Marriage with him mightn’t be altogether unsuitable. Still,
we’ve got to make sure that it is suitable, and if it isn’t, we’ve----”
“We’ve got to stop it!” Jack struck in. “The first thing is to find the
girl and bring her here. We can decide what to do after that.”
Colonel Telfair became suddenly grave. “Yes!” he answered, “I reckon we
can, if--” He broke off and contemplated his son curiously. “How does
Tecumseh happen to send for you, sir?” he demanded. “But I reckon it
comes of your running wild in their villages while they were down here.
They adopted you or something, didn’t they?”
Jack nodded. “Yes! Tecumseh’s mother adopted me into the Panther clan.
She was born down here, you know, and was back here on a visit when I
knew her.”
“Humph!” The old gentleman pondered a moment. Then suddenly he caught
fire. “Yes! Go, Jack, go!” he thundered. “Damme, sir! I’d like to go
with you, sir. I envy you! If I was a few years younger I’d go, too,
sir! Damme! I would.”
“I wish you could, father.” The boy threw his arm affectionately about
the older man’s shoulders. “Lord! wouldn’t we have times together. We’d
rescue the girl and then we’d help General Hull smash the redcoats and
the redskins.”
“We would, sir! Damme, we would!” The old gentleman shook his fist
in the air. “We’d--we’d----” He broke off, catching at his side, and
dropped into a chair, which Jack hurriedly pushed forward. “Oh! Jack!
Jack!” he groaned. “What d’ye mean by getting your old father worked
up till he’s ill?” Then with a sudden change of front--“You--you’ll
be careful, won’t you, Jack? Not _too_ careful, you know--not when
you face the enemy, but--but--damme, sir, you know what I mean. You
needn’t get yourself killed for the fun of it, sir. I--I’m an old man,
Jack, and you’re my only son and if you----”
“Don’t fear, father! I know the woods. I know the trails. I know the
Indian tongues. I am a member of the Panther clan. More, I am going to
Ohio at the invitation of Tecumseh. Until war begins every member of my
clan will be bound to help me because I am their clan brother; every
Shawnee will be bound to help me because I am the friend of Tecumseh;
every other warrior will befriend me once he knows who I am. If I
travel fast I may rescue cousin Estelle before----”
“Estelle! Estelle! Good God! Yes! I’d forgotten her altogether. I
wonder what she’ll be like: not much like our young ladies; that’s
certain. Bring her back to us, Jack. We need a daughter in the family.
And as for France, damme, I’ll go over with her myself, sir.”
“I’ll wager you will, father. I’ll get her before war begins if I
can. If I can’t--well, I’ll get her somehow. Once war begins, my clan
membership fails and----”
“Well! Let it fail, sir. I don’t half understand about this clan
business of yours, sir. I don’t approve of it, sir. How will war effect
that, sir?”
Colonel Telfair’s ignorance as to the Indian clans was no greater than
that of nine-tenths of his fellow citizens, whether of his own times or
of later ones, dense ignorance having commonly prevailed not only as
to the nature but as to the very existence of the clans.
But Jack knew them. Much had he forgotten, but in the last hour much
had come back to him. Thoughts, memories, bits of ritual, learned long
before and buried beneath later knowledge, struggled upward through the
veil of the years and rose to his lips.
“They--they are like Masonic orders, father,” he began, vaguely. “They
know no tribe, no nation. Mohawks and Shawnees and Creeks of the same
clan are brothers, and yet--and yet--if the Shawnee sends a war belt
to the Creeks, clan ties are suspended--just as between Masons of
different nations. But when the battle is over, fraternity brothers are
bound to succor each other, bound to ransom each other from the flame.
This they may perhaps do by persuading the tribe to adopt them in place
of some warrior who has been slain.”
“Humph! I thought they had been adopted already?”
“As members of the clan, yes! Adoption by the tribe is different. It
changes the entire blood of him who is adopted. He _becomes_ the man
whose name and place he takes, and he is bound to live and fight as
his predecessor would have lived and fought and to forget that he ever
lived another life. Membership in the clans by birth is strictly in
the female line. The women control them and decide who shall be adopted
into them.”
“All right. I don’t half understand. But I suppose you do. Anyway,
I’m glad you’ve got your membership to help you--Look here, Jack!” An
idea had struck the elder man. “D--d if I don’t believe that warrior
of yours was Tecumseh himself. I started to speak of it when you first
named him. I met Colonel Hawkins--he’s the Indian agent--this morning
and he told me that a big chief from the north was down here, powwowing
to the Creeks at Takabatchi--urging them to dig up the hatchet, I
reckon. Tecumseh was here a year ago, you know. Maybe he’s come back!”
Jack nodded, absently. “Maybe it was Tecumseh, father,” he answered. He
had just remembered Sally Habersham and he was wondering if she would
grieve when she heard that he had gone away. For a time, perhaps! But
not for long. She would have other thoughts to engross her. Jack knew
it and was glad to know it. He wanted no one to be unhappy because
of him--least of all Sally Habersham. She who had been so kind--so
kind--His lips burned at the memory of her kiss. “I’ll prove myself
worthy of it!” he swore to himself. “I’ll carry it unsullied to the
end. No other woman----”
Telfair broke in. “Damme! sir! What are you moonshining about now?”
he roared. “About your cousin Estelle? Bring her back and marry her,
Jack. She’s a great heiress, my lad, a great heiress.”
Jack drew himself up. Strangely enough he had thought little about the
girl-child for whose sake he was going to undertake the long journey.
His father’s words grated on him.
“I shall never marry, father,” he declared.