AN ANGEL IN THE WILDERNESS
He acted so like a crazed man, grovelling face downward in the grass,
that I had to hold him, fearful lest his noise might attract attention
from our enemies.
"Be quiet, De Croix!" I commanded sternly, my hand hard upon him, my
eyes peering through the darkness to determine if possible the cause
for his mysterious fright. "What is it that has so driven you out of
your senses?"
He half rose, staring back at the black shadow of the dim doorway, his
face white as chalk in the star-light and faint glare of the distant
fires.
"'Twas the face of a dead woman," he gasped, pointing forward, "there,
just within the door! I saw her buried three years ago, I swear; yet,
God be merciful! she awaited me yonder in the gloom."
"Pish!" I exclaimed, thoroughly disgusted at his weakness, and rising
to my feet. "Your nerves are unstrung by what we have been through, and
you dream of the dead."
"It is not so!" he protested, his voice faltering pitifully; "I saw
her, Monsieur,--nor was she once this day in my thought until that
moment."
"Well, I shall soon know if there is a ghost within," I answered
shortly, determined to make quick end of it. "Remain here, while I go
into the house and see what I can find."
For a moment he clung to me like a frightened child; but I shook off
his hands a bit roughly, and stepped boldly across the threshold. That
was an age when faith in ghostly visitations yet lingered to harass
the souls of men. I confess my heart beat more rapidly than usual, as
I paused an instant to peer through the shadowy gloom within. It was a
small, low room, with a litter of broken furniture strewing the earthen
floor; but the log-walls were quite bare. The flicker of the still
blazing Fort illuminated the interior sufficiently to enable me to make
out these simple details, and to see that the place was without living
occupant.
There was only one other apartment in the building, and I walked back
until I came upon the door which separated the two, and flung it open.
As I did so I thought I saw a shadow, the dim flitting of a woman's
form between me and the farther wall; but as I sprang hastily forward,
grasping after the spectral vision, I touched nothing save the rough
logs. Twice I made the circuit of that restricted space, so confident
was I of my own eye-witness; but I found nothing, and could only pause
perplexed, staring about in wonder.
It occurred to me that my own overtaxed nerves were at fault, and that
if I was to accomplish anything before daylight I must say nothing
likely to alarm De Croix further.
"Come, Monsieur!" I said, as I came out and shook him into attention,
"there is naught within more dangerous than shadows, or perchance a
rat. Nor have I any time longer to dally over such boyishness. I had
supposed you a soldier and a brave man, not a nerveless girl to be
frightened in the dark. Come, there is ample hiding-space behind the
walls, and I purpose leaving you here to regain some measure of your
lost courage while I try a new venture of my own."
"Where go you?"
"To learn if I may gain entrance to the Indian camp unobserved. There
can be no better time than while they are occupied yonder."
He looked uneasily about him into the dark corners, shuddering.
"I would rather go with you," he protested, weakly. "I have not the
heart to remain here alone."
"Nevertheless, here you stay," I retorted shortly, thoroughly
exasperated by his continued childishness; "you are in no spirit to
meet the perils yonder. Conquer your foolishness, Monsieur, for I know
well 'tis not part of your nature so to exhibit fear."
"'Tis naught alive that I so shrink from; never have I been affrighted
of living man."
"True; nor have I ever found the dead able greatly to harm. But now I
go forth to a plain duty, and you must wait me here."
I did not glance back at him, although I knew he had sunk dejected
on a bench beside the door; but with careful look at the priming of
my rifle, I stepped forth into the open, and started down the slight
slope leading to the river. A fringe of low, straggling trees hid my
movements from observation by possible watchers along the southern
bank; nor could I perceive with any definiteness what was going on
there. The fires had died down somewhat, and I thought the savage
yelling and clamor were considerably lessened.
I confess I went forward hesitatingly, and was doubtful enough about
the outcome; but I saw no other means by which I might hope to locate
Mademoiselle definitely, and I valued my own life now only as it
concerned hers. The selfish cowardice of De Croix if cowardice it truly
was served merely to stir me to greater recklessness and daring, and
I felt ready to venture all if I might thereby only pluck her from
the grasp of those red fiends. As I crept through the fringe of bushes
which lined the bank, my eyes were on the darkened upper extremity of
the Indian camp, and all my thoughts were concentrated upon a plan
of entrance to it. I may have been somewhat careless, for I had no
conception of any serious peril until after I had crossed the stream,
and it certainly startled me to hear a voice at my very elbow,--a
strange voice, beautifully soft and low.
"You have the movement of an Indian; yet I think you are white. What
seek you here?"
I turned quickly and faced the speaker, my rifle flung forward ready
for action. The light was poor enough there amid the shadows, yet the
single glimpse I had told me instantly I faced the mysterious woman of
the Indian camp. For a moment I made no response, held speechless by
surprise; and she questioned again, almost imperatively.
"I asked, why are you here?"
"I am one, by the grace of God, spared from the massacre," I answered
blindly. "But you?--I saw you within the Indian camp only last night.
Surely you are not a savage?"
"That I know not. I sometimes fear the savage is part of all our
natures, and that I am far removed from the divine image of my Master.
But I am not an Indian, if that is what you mean. If to be white is a
grace in your sight, I am of that race, though there are times when I
would have been prouder to wear the darker skin. The red men kill, but
they do not lie, nor deceive women. I remember you now,--you were with
the White Chief from Dearborn, and tried to approach me when Little
Sauk interfered. Why did you do that?"
Her manner and words were puzzling, but I knew no better way than to
answer frankly.
"I sought Elsa Matherson,--are you she?"
The girl--for she could certainly have been little more--started
perceptibly at the name, and bent eagerly forward, peering with new
interest into my face.
"Elsa Matherson?" she questioned, dwelling upon the words as though
they awoke memories. "It is indeed long since I have heard the name.
Where knew you her?"
"I have never known her; but her father was my father's friend, and I
sought her because of that friendship."
"Here?"
"At Fort Dearborn, where she was left an orphan."
"How strange! how very strange indeed! 'Tis a small world. Elsa
Matherson! and at Dearborn?"
Was it acting, for some purpose unknown to me,--or what might be the
secret of these strange expressions?
"Then you are not the one I seek?"
She hesitated, looking keenly toward me through the dim light.
"I have not said who I may be," she answered evasively. "Whatever
name I may once have borne was long ago forgotten, and to the simple
children about me I am only Sister Celeste. 'Tis enough to live by in
this wilderness, and the recording angel of God knows whether even that
is worthy. But I have been waiting to learn why you are here, creeping
through the bushes like a savage! Nor do I believe you to be altogether
alone. Was there not one with you yonder at the house? Why did he cry
out so loudly, and fall?"
"He imagined he saw a ghost within. He claimed to have recognized the
face of a dead woman he once knew."
"A dead woman? What is the man's name? Who is he?"
"Captain de Croix, an officer of the French army."
She sighed quickly, as if relieved, one hand pressed against her
forehead, and sat thinking.
"I know not the name, but it seems strange that the chance sight of my
face should work such havoc with his nerves. Spoke he not even the name
of the woman?"
"I think he cried some name as he fell, but I recall it not."
"And you? You are only seeking a way of escape from the savages?"
For a moment I hesitated; but surely, I thought, this strange young
woman was of white blood, and seemingly an enthusiast in the religion I
also professed, and I might safely trust her with my purpose.
"I am seeking entrance within the encampment, hoping thus to rescue a
maiden whom I believe to be prisoner in the hands of the Indians."
"A maiden,--Elsa Matherson?"
"Nay, another; one I have learned to love so well that I now willingly
risk even torture for her sake. You are a woman, and have a woman's
heart; you exercise some strange power among these savages. I beg you
to aid me."
She sat with clasped hands, her eyes lowered upon the grass.
"Whatsoever power I have comes from God," she said solemnly; "and there
be times, such as now, when it seems as if He held me unworthy of His
trust."
"But you will aid me in whatever way you can?"
"You are sure you love this maiden?"
"Would I be here, think you, otherwise?"
She did not answer immediately, but crept across the little space
separating us until she could look more closely into my face, scanning
it earnestly with her dark eyes.
"You have the appearance of a true man," she said finally. "Does the
maid love you?"
"I know not," I stammered honestly, confused by so direct a question.
"I fear not; yet I would save her even then."
I felt her hand touch mine as if in sudden sympathy.
"Monsieur," she spoke gravely, "love has never been kind to me, and I
have learned to put small trust in the word as it finds easy utterance
upon men's lips. A man swore once, even at the altar, that he loved me;
and when he had won my heart he left me for another. If I believed you
were such a man I would rather leave this girl to her fate among the
savages yonder."
"I am not of that school," I protested earnestly. "I am of a race that
love once and forever. But you, who are you? Why are you here in the
midst of these savages? You bear a strange likeness to her I would
save, but for the lighter shade of your hair."
She drew back slightly, removing her hand from mine, but with
gentleness.
"It would do you little good to know my story," she said firmly. "I am
no longer of the world, and my life is dedicated to a service you might
deem sacrifice. Moreover, we waste time in such idle converse; and if
it be my privilege to aid you at all, I must learn more, so as to plan
safely."
"You have the freedom of the camp yonder?"
"I hardly know," she responded sadly. "God has placed in my poor
hands, Monsieur, a portion of His work amid those benighted,
sin-stained creatures there. Times come, as now, when the wild wolf
breaks loose, and my life hardly is safe among them. I fled the camp
to-night,--not from fear, Christ knows, but because I am a woman, and
too weak physically to bear the sight of suffering that I am helpless
to relieve. It is indeed Christ's mercy that so few of your company
were spared to be thus tortured; but there was naught left for me but
prayer."
She stooped forward, her hands pressed over her eyes as though she
would shut out the horror.
"Yet know you who among the whites have thus far preserved their
lives?" I urged, in an agony of suspense. "Were any of the women
brought alive to the camp?"
"It was my fortune to see but one; nor was I permitted to approach
her,--a sweet-faced girl, yet she could not be the one you seek, for
she wore a wedding-ring. She was saved through the friendship of Black
Partridge, and I heard that she is a daughter of the Silver-man."
"Ay! Mrs. Helm! Thank God! But was she the only one?"
"Truly, I know not; for I was forced away from sight of much that went
on. Little Sauk has a white maiden hidden in his lodge, who was brought
from the battle. I have not seen the girl, but know this through
others who were angry at his good-fortune."
"Could we reach there, think you, unobserved?"
She rose, and gazed anxiously across the stream, her face showing clear
and fair in the faint light of those distant fires, while I caught the
glimmer of a pearl rosary about her white throat and marked a silver
crucifix resting against her breast.
"It will be life itself you venture in such an attempt," she said
softly, "even its loss through torture; yet 'tis a deed that might be
done, for the Indians are fairly crazed with blood and liquor, and will
pay small heed to aught save their heathen orgies."
"Then let us venture it."
She turned slightly and looked at me intently, her dark eyes filled
with serious thought.
"Yes, we will go," she responded at last, slowly. "If through God's
grace we may thus preserve a life, it will be well worthy the
sacrifice, and must be His desire."
For another moment we waited there silently, standing side by side,
gazing anxiously across the dark water, and listening intently to the
varied discordant sounds borne to us on the night air. I know not what
may have been in her thought; but upon my lips there was a silent
prayer that we might be safely guided in our desperate mission. I
wondered still who this strange young woman could be, so surrounded
by mystery, a companion of savages, and still gentle and refined in
word and manner. I dare not ask again, nor urge her confidence; for
there was that of reserve about her which held me speechless. I glanced
aside, marking again the clear pure contour of her face, and my look
seemed instantly to arouse her from her reverie.
"I expect little trouble until we near the centre of the camp," she
said, thoughtfully. "'Tis dark amid the northern lodges, and we shall
meet with no warriors there unless they be so far gone in intoxication
as to be no longer a source of danger. But come, friend, the longer we
tarry the less bright grows the hope of success."
A slender bark canoe rested close beneath the bank, and she motioned
me into it, grasping the paddle without a word, and sending the narrow
craft with swift, silent strokes across the stream. The other shore was
unprotected; so, hesitating only long enough to listen for a moment,
much as some wild animal might, she crept forward cautiously into the
black lodge-shadows, while I instantly followed, imitating as best I
could her slightest movement. We met no obstacle to our advance,--not
even the snarls and barkings of the innumerable curs, usually the
sleepless guardians of such encampments of savages. I soon saw that as
we crept around lodge after lodge in our progress, the light of the
blazing fires in our front grew constantly brighter and the savage
turbulence more pronounced.
At last the girl came to a sudden pause, peering cautiously forward
from beneath the shadow of the lodge that hid us; and as I glanced over
her shoulder, the wild scene was revealed in each detail of savagery.
"'Tis as far as you will dare venture," she whispered, her lips at
my ear. "I know not the exact limit of our progress, but the lodge
of Little Sauk lies beyond the fire, and I must make the rest of the
distance alone."
"But dare you?" I questioned uneasily. "Will they permit even you to
pass unharmed?"
She smiled almost sadly.
"I have many friends among them, blood-stained as they are, and little
as I have accomplished for the salvation of their souls. I have been
with them much, and my father long held their confidence ere he died.
I have even been adopted into the tribe of the Pottawattomies. None
are my enemies among that nation save the medicine-men, and they will
scarce venture to molest me even in this hour of their power and crime.
Too well they know me to be under protection of their chiefs; nor
are they insensible to the sanctity of my faith. Ay, and even their
superstition has proved my safeguard."
The expression of curiosity in my eyes appealed to her, and as if in
answer she rested one hand upon her uncovered head, the hair of which
shone like dull red gold in the firelight.
"You mean that?" I asked, dimly recalling something I had once heard.
She shook the heavy coiled mass loose from its bondage, until it
rippled in gleaming waves of color over her shoulders, and smiled back
at me, yet not without traces of deep sadness in her eyes.
"'Tis an Indian thought," she explained softly, "that such hair as mine
is a special gift of the Great Spirit, and renders its wearer sacred.
What was often spoken most lightly about in other days has in this
dread wilderness proved my strongest defence. God uses strange means,
Monsieur, to accomplish His purpose with the heathen."
She paused, listening intently to a sudden noise behind us.
"Creep in here, Monsieur," she whispered, quickly lifting an edge of
the skin-covering of the lodge. "A party is returning from the Fort,
perchance with more prisoners. Lie quiet there until I return; it will
not be long."
I crawled through the slight opening into that black interior, turning
to hold open the flap sufficiently to peer forth once more. I knew not
where she vanished, as she faded away like a shadow; but I had hardly
secured refuge, when a dozen painted warriors trooped by, shouting
their fierce greeting. In the midst of them, half-stripped, and
bleeding as if from freshly inflicted wounds, staggered a white man;
and as the firelight fell full upon his haggard face, I recognized De
Croix.