The Road to Frontenac Read online

  CHAPTER XIX.

  FRONTENAC.

  The sun was dropping behind the western forests. From the lodges andcabins of the friendly Indians about the fort rose a hundred thincolumns of smoke. Long rows of bateaux and canoes lined the beachbelow the log palisade; and others drew near the shore, laden withfish. There was a stir and bustle about the square within the stonebastions; orderlies hurried from quarters to barracks, bugles sounded,and groups of ragged soldiers sat about, polishing muskets and belts,and setting new flints. Men of the commissary department were carryingboxes and bales from the fort to a cleared space on the beach.

  Menard walked across the square and knocked at the door of Majord'Orvilliers's little house. Many an eye had followed him as hehurried by, aroused to curiosity by his tattered uniform, rustedmusket, and boot-tops rudely stitched to deerskin moccasins.

  "Major d'Orvilliers is busy," said the orderly at the door.

  "Tell him it is Captain Menard."

  In a moment the Major himself appeared in the doorway.

  "Come in, Menard. I am to start in an hour or so to meet GovernorDenonville, but there is always time for you. I'll start a littlelate, if necessary."

  "The Governor comes from Niagara?"

  "Yes. He is two or three days' journey up the lake. I am to escort himback."

  They had reached the office in the rear of the house, and the Majorbrushed a heap of documents and drawings from a chair.

  "Sit down, Menard. You have a long story, I take it. You look as ifyou'd been to the Illinois and back."

  "You knew of my capture?"

  "Yes. We had about given you up. And the girl,--Mademoiselle St.Denis--"

  "She is here."

  "Here--at Frontenac?"

  "Yes; in Father de Casson's care."

  "Thank God! But how did you do it? How did you get her here, andyourself?"

  Menard rose and paced up and down the room. As he walked, he told thestory of the capture at La Gallette, of the days in the Onondagavillage, of the council and the escape. When he had finished, therewas a long silence, while the Major sat with contracted brows.

  "You've done a big thing, Menard," he said at last, "one of thebiggest things that has been done in New France. But have you thoughtof the Governor--of how he will take it?"

  "Yes."

  "It may not be easy. Denonville doesn't know the Iroquois as you and Ido. He is elated now about his victory,--he thinks he has settled thequestion of white supremacy. If I were to tell him to-morrow that hehas only made a bitter enemy of the Senecas, and that they will notrest until they wipe out this defeat, do you suppose he would believeit? You have given a pledge to the Iroquois that is entirely outsideof the Governor's view of military precedent. To tell the truth,Menard, I don't believe he will like it."

  "Why not?"

  "He doesn't know the strength of the Five Nations. He thinks theywould all flee before our regulars just as the Senecas did. Worse thanthat, he doesn't know the Indian temperament. I'm afraid you can'tmake him understand that to satisfy their hunger for revenge willserve better than a score of orations and treaties."

  "You think he won't touch La Grange?"

  "I am almost certain of it."

  "Then it rests with me."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I gave another pledge, d'Orvilliers. If the Governor won't do this--Ishall have to do it myself."

  Save for a moment's hesitation Menard's voice was cool and even; buthe had stopped walking and was looking closely at the commandant.

  D'Orvilliers was gazing at the floor.

  "What do you mean by that?" he said slowly, and then suddenly he gotup. "My God, Menard, you don't mean that you would--"

  "Yes."

  "That can't be! I can't allow it."

  "It may not be necessary. I hope you are mistaken about theGovernor."

  "I hope I am--but no; he won't help you. He's not in the mood forpaying debts to a weakened enemy. And--Menard, sit down. I must talkplainly to you. I can't go on covering things up now. I don't believeyou see the matter clearly. If it were a plain question of yourmission to the Onondagas--if it were--Well, I want you to tell me inwhat relation you stand to Mademoiselle St. Denis."

  The Captain was standing by the chair. He rested his arms on the highback, and looked over them at d'Orvilliers.

  "She is to be my wife," he said.

  D'Orvilliers leaned back and slowly shook his head.

  "My dear fellow," he said, "when your story goes to Quebec, when theChateau learns that you have promised the punishment of La Grange inthe name of France, and then of this,--of Mademoiselle and herrelations to yourself and to La Grange,--do you know what they willdo?"

  Menard was silent.

  "They will laugh--first, and then--"

  "I know," said the Captain, "I have thought of all that."

  "You have told all this in your report?"

  "Yes."

  "So you would go on with it?"

  "Yes; I am going on with it. There is nothing else I can do. Icouldn't have offered to give myself up; they already had me. Thefault was La Grange's. What I did was the only thing that could havebeen done to save the column; if you will think it over, you will seethat. I know what I did,--I know I was right; and if my superiors,when I have given my report, choose to see it in another way, I havenothing to say. If they give me my liberty, in the army or out of it,I will find La Grange. If not, I will wait."

  "Why not give that up, at least, Menard?"

  "If I give that up, we shall have a war with the Iroquois that willshake New France as she has never been shaken before."

  D'Orvilliers started to speak, but checked the words. Menard slung hismusket behind his shoulders.

  "Wait, Menard. I don't know what to say. I must have time to think. Ifyou wish, I will not give notice of your arrival to the Governor. Iwill leave the matter of reporting in your hands." He rose, andfingered the papers on the table. "You see how it will look--there isthe maid--La Grange seeks your life, you seek his--"

  Menard drew himself up, his hat in his hand.

  "It shall be pushed to the end, Major. You know me; you know Captainla Grange. There will be excitement, perhaps,--you may find it hard toavoid taking one side or the other. I must ask which side is to beyours."

  D'Orvilliers winced, and for a moment stood biting his lip; then hestepped forward and took both Menard's hands.

  "You shouldn't have asked that," he said. "God bless you, Menard! Godbless you!"

  Menard paused in the door, and turned.

  "Shall I need a pass to enter the hospital?"

  "Oh, you can't go there. La Grange is there."

  "Yes; I will report to him. He shall not say that I have left it tohearsay."

  "But he will attack you!"

  "No; I will not fight him until I have an answer from the Governor."

  "You can't get in now until morning."

  "Very well, good-night."

  "You will be careful, Menard?"

  The Captain nodded and left the room. Wishing to settle his thoughts,he passed through the palisade gate and walked down the beach. Thecommissary men were loading the canoes, threescore of them, that wereto carry the garrison on its westward journey. Already the twilightwas deepening, and the lanterns of the officers were dimmed by theglow from a hundred Indian camp-fires.

  From within the fort came a long bugle-call. There was a distantrattling of arms and shouting of commands, then the tramp of feet, andthe indistinct line came swinging through the sally-port. They haltedat the water's edge, broke ranks, and took to the canoes, paddlingeasily away along the shore until they had faded into shadows. A scoreof Indians stood watching them, stolidly smoking stone pipes andholding their blankets close around them.

  It was an hour later when the Captain returned to the fort and startedacross the enclosure toward the hut which had been assigned to him.Save for a few Indians and a sentry who paced before the barracks, thefort seemed deserted. It was nearly da
rk now, and the lanterns at thesally-port and in front of barrack and hospital glimmered faintly.Menard had reached his own door, when he heard a voice calling, andturned. A dim figure was running across the square toward the sentry.There was a moment of breathless talk,--Menard could not catch thewords,--then the sentry shouted. It occurred to Menard that he was nowthe senior officer at the fort, and he waited. A corporal led up hisguard, halted, and again there was hurried talking. Menard startedback toward them, but before he reached the spot all were runningtoward the hospital, and a dozen others of the home guard had gatheredbefore the barracks and were talking and asking excited questions.

  Menard crossed to the hospital. Two privates barred the door, and hewas forced to wait until a young Lieutenant of the regulars appeared.The lanterns over the door threw a dim light on the Captain as hestood on the low step.

  "What is it?" asked the Lieutenant. "You wished to see me?"

  "I am Captain Menard. What is the trouble?"

  The Lieutenant looked doubtfully at the dingy, bearded figure, then hemotioned the soldiers aside.

  "It is Captain la Grange," he said, when Menard had entered; "he hasbeen killed."

  The Lieutenant spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, but his eyes wereshining and he was breathing rapidly. Menard looked at him for amoment without a word, then he stepped to the door of a back room andlooked in. Three flickering candles stood on a low table, and anotheron a chair at the head of the narrow bed. The light wavered over thelog and plaster walls. A surgeon was bending over the bed, hisassistant waiting at his elbow with instruments; the two shut off theupper part of the bed from Menard's view. The Lieutenant stood behindthe Captain, looking over his shoulder; both were motionless. Therewas no sound save a low word at intervals between the two surgeons,and the creak of a bore-worm that sounded distinctly from a log in thewall.

  Menard turned away and walked back to the outer door, the Lieutenantwith him. There they stood, silent, as men are who have been broughtsuddenly face to face with death. At last the Lieutenant began tospeak in a subdued voice.

  "We only know that it was an Indian. He has been scalped."

  "Oh!" muttered Menard.

  "I think he is still breathing,--he was just before you came,--butthere is no hope for him. He was stabbed in a dozen places. It wassome time before we knew--the Indian came in by the window, and musthave found him asleep. There was no struggle."

  They stood again without speaking, and again the Lieutenant broke thesilence.

  "It is too bad. He was a good fellow." He paused, as if searching fora kind word for Captain la Grange. "He was the best shot at the fortwhen he--when--"

  "Yes," said Menard. He too wished to speak no harsh word. "Is thereanything I can do?"

  "I think not. There is a strong guard about the fort, but I think theIndian had escaped before we learned of it. I will see you before wetake further steps."

  "Very well. I shall be at my quarters. Good-night."

  "Good-night."

  Menard walked slowly back across the enclosure. At the door of his huthe paused, and for a long time he stood there, looking up at the quietsky. His mind was scattered for the moment; he could not thinkclearly.

  He opened his door and stepped over the log threshold, letting thedoor close after him of its own weight. The hut was dark, with but asquare of dim light at the window. He fumbled for the candle andstruck a light.

  There was a low rustle from the corner. Menard whirled around andpeered into the shadows. The candle was blowing; he caught it up andshielded it with his hand. A figure was crouching in the corner, halfhidden behind a cloak that hung there. The Captain sprang forwardholding the candle high, tore down the cloak, and discoveredTeganouan, the Onondaga, bending over feeling for his hatchet whichlay on the floor at his feet. Menard caught his shoulders, anddragging him out of reach of the hatchet, threw him full length on thefloor. The candle dropped and rolled on the floor, but before it couldgo out, Menard snatched it up.

  Slowly Teganouan rose to his feet.

  "Teganouan comes in a strange manner to the lodge of the whitewarrior," said Menard, scornfully. "He steals in like a Huron thief,and hides in dark corners."

  The Indian looked at him defiantly, but did not answer.

  "My Onondaga brother does not wish to show himself in the light.Perhaps there is some trouble on his mind. Perhaps he is governed byan evil Oki who loves the darkness." While Menard was speaking he wasmoving quietly toward the door. The Indian saw, but beyond turningslowly so as always to face his captor, made no movement. His face,except for the blazing eyes, was inscrutable. In a moment Menard stoodbetween him and the door. "Perhaps it is best that I should call forthe warriors of the fort. They will be glad to find here the slayer oftheir brother." His hand was on the latch.

  "The Big Buffalo will not call to his brothers." The Indian's voicewas calm. Menard looked closely at him. "He has not thought yet. Whenhe has thought, he will understand."

  "Teganouan speaks like a child."

  "If Teganouan is a child, can the Big Buffalo tell why he came to thewhite man's lodge?"

  "Because he has slain a great white warrior, he must hide his facelike the outcast dog." Menard pointed to the scalp that hung at hiswaist. "He has slain a great warrior while the hatchet lies buried inthe ground. He has broken the law of the white man and the redman. Andso he must hide his face."

  "Why did not Teganouan run to the woods? Why did he come to the lodgeof the Big Buffalo?"

  Menard looked steadily at him. He began to understand. The shrewd oldwarrior had chosen the one hiding-place where no searching party wouldlook. Perhaps he had hoped for aid from the Captain, remembering hispledge to bring punishment on La Grange. If so, he should learn hismistake.

  "Teganouan's words are idle." Menard moved the latch.

  "The Big Buffalo will not open the door. Teganouan has not deliveredhis message. He is not an enemy to the Big Buffalo. He is his friend.He has come to this lodge, caring nothing for the safety of his life,that he might give his message. The Big Buffalo will not open thedoor. He will wait to hear the words of Teganouan; and then he maycall to his brother warriors if he still thinks it would be wise."

  Menard waited.

  "Speak quickly, Teganouan."

  "Teganouan's words are like the wind. He has brought them manyleagues,--from the lodges of the Onondagas,--that he may speak themnow. He has brought them from the Long House of the Five Nations,where the fires burn brightly by day and by night, where the greatestchiefs of many thousand warriors are met to hear the Voice of theGreat Mountain, the father of white men and redmen. The Great Mountainhas a strong voice. It is louder than cannon; it wounds deeper thanthe musket of the white brave. It tells the Onondagas and Cayugas andOneidas and Mohawks that they must not give aid to their brothers, theSenecas, who have fallen, whose corn and forts and lodges are burnedto ashes and scattered on the winds. It tells the Onondagas that theGreat Mountain is a kind father, that he loves them like his ownchildren, and will punish the man who wrongs them, let him be white orred. It tells the Onondagas that the white captain, who has robbed ahundred Onondaga lodges of their bravest hunters, shall be struck bythe strong arm of the Great Mountain, shall be blown to pieces by theVoice that thunders from the great water where the seal are found tothe farthest village of the Five Nations. And the chiefs hear theVoice; they listen with ears that are always open to the counsel ofOnontio. They take his promises into their hearts and believe them.They know that he will strike down the dog of a white captain. Theyrefuse aid to their dying brothers, the Senecas, because they knowthat the strong arm of Onontio is over them, that it will give thempeace."

  He paused, gazing with bright eyes at Menard. There was no reply, andhe continued:--

  "The Great Mountain has kept his word. The Onondagas shall know, intheir council, that Onontio's promise has been kept, that the whitebrave, who lied to their hunters and sent them in chains across thebig water, has gone to a hunting-ground where his musket will no
t helphim, where the buffalo shall trample him and tear his flesh with theirhorns. Then the Onondagas shall know that the Big Buffalo spoke thetruth to the Long House. And this word shall be carried to theOnondagas by Teganouan. He will go to the council with the scalp inhis hand telling them that the white children of Onontio are theirbrothers. Teganouan sees the Big Buffalo stand with his strong hand atthe door. He knows that the Big Buffalo could call his warriors toseize Teganouan, and bind him, and bid him stand before the whitemen's muskets. But Teganouan is not a child. He sees with the eye ofthe old warrior who has fought a battle for every sun in the year, whohas known the white man as well as the redman. When the Big Buffalostood in the Long House, Teganouan believed him; Teganouan knew thathis words were true. And now the heart of Teganouan is warm withtrust. He knows that the Big Buffalo is a wise warrior and that he hasan honest heart."

  There was a pause, and Menard, his hand still on the latch, stoodmotionless. He knew what the Indian meant. He had done no more thanMenard himself had promised the council, in the name of GovernorDenonville, should be done. The lodges of the allies near the fortsheltered many an Iroquois spy; whatever might follow would be knownin every Iroquois village before the week had passed. To holdTeganouan for trial would mean war.

  There was the tramp of feet on the beaten ground without, and a clearvoice said:--

  "Wait a moment, I must report to Captain Menard."

  Menard raised the latch an inch, then looked sharply at Teganouan. TheIndian stood quietly, leaning a little forward, waiting for thedecision. The Captain was on the point of speaking, but no word camefrom his parted lips. The voices were now just outside the door. Witha long breath Menard's fingers relaxed, and the latch slipped backinto place. Then he motioned toward the wall ladder that reached upinto the darkness of the loft.

  Teganouan turned, picked up the hatchet and thrust it into his belt,took one quick glance about the room to make sure that no telltalearticle remained, and slipped up the ladder. There was a loud knock onthe door, and Menard opened it. The Lieutenant came in.

  "We have no word yet, Captain," he said. "Every building in the forthas been searched. I have so few men that I could not divide themuntil this was done, but I am just now sending out searching partiesthrough the Indian village and the forest. None of the canoes aremissing. Have I your approval?"

  "Yes."

  "You--you have been here since you left the hospital?"

  "Yes."

  "I think, then, that he must have had time to slip out before we knewof it. There are many Indians here who would help him; but a few ofthem can be trusted, I think, to join the search. Major d'Orvilliersleft me with only a handful of men. It will be difficult to accomplishmuch until he returns. I will post a sentry at the sally-port; weshall have to leave the bastions without a guard. I think it will besafe, for the time."

  "Very well, Lieutenant."

  The Lieutenant saluted and hurried away. Menard closed the door, andturned to the table, where were scattered the sheets on which he hadbeen writing his report. He collected them and read the reportcarefully. He removed one leaf, and rolling it up, lighted it at thecandle, and held it until it was burned to a cinder. Then he read theother sheets again. The report now told of his capture, of a part ofthe council at the Long House, and of the escape; but no word wasthere concerning Captain la Grange. Another hand had disposed of thatquestion. Menard sighed as he laid it down, but soon the lines on hisface relaxed. It was not the first time in the history of New Francethat a report had told but half the truth; and, after all, the columnhad been saved.

  He sharpened a quill with his sheath-knife, and began to copy thereport, making further corrections here and there. Something more thanan hour had passed before the work was finished. He rolled up thedocument and tied it with a thong of deerskin.

  It was still early in the evening, but the fort was as silent as atmidnight. Menard opened the door and walked out a little way. Thelamps were all burning, but no soldiers were to be seen. The barrackwindows were dark. He stepped back into the house, closed the door,and said in a low voice:--

  "Teganouan."

  There was a stir in the loft. In a moment the Indian came down theladder and stood waiting.

  "Teganouan, you heard what the Lieutenant said?"

  "Teganouan has ears."

  "Very well. I am going to blow out the candle."

  The room was dark. The door creaked softly, and a breath of air blewin upon the Captain as he stood by the table. He felt over the tablefor his tinder-box and struck a light. The door was slowly closing;Teganouan had gone.

  * * * * *

  Another sun was setting. A single drum was beating loudly as thelittle garrison drew up outside the sally-port and presented arms. Theallies and the mission Indians were crowding down upon the beach,silent, inquisitive,--puffing at their short pipes. For half aleague, from the flat, white beach out over the rose-tinted waterstretched an irregular black line of canoes and bateaux, allbristling with muskets. The Governor had come. He could be seenkneeling, all sunburned and ragged but with erect head, in the firstcanoe. His canoemen checked their swing, for the beach was close athand, and then backed water. The bow scraped, and a dozen hands wereoutstretched in aid, but Governor Denonville stepped briskly out intothe ankle-deep water and carried his own pack ashore. A cheer went upfrom the little line at the sally-port. Du Luth's _voyageurs_ and_coureur de bois_ caught it up, and then it swept far out over thewater and was echoed back from the forest.

  In the doorway of a hut near the Recollet Chapel stood Menard andValerie. They watched canoe after canoe glide up and empty its load ofsoldiers, not speaking as they watched, but thinking each the samethought. At last, when the straggling line was pouring into the fort,and the bugles were screaming, and the drum rolling, Valerie slippedher hand through the Captain's arm and looked up into his face.

  "It was you who brought them here," she said; and then, after a pause,she laughed a breathless little laugh. "It was you," she repeated.