The Road to Frontenac Read online

  CHAPTER IV.

  THE LONG ARROW.

  Menard allowed a halt of but a few hours at Three Rivers. Thesettlement held little of interest, for all the resident troops andmost of the farmers and _engages_ had gone up the river to join thearmy which was assembling at Montreal. The close of the first week outof Quebec saw the party well on the second half of the journey toMontreal. As they went on, Menard's thoughts were drawn more deeplyinto the work that lay ahead, and in spite of his efforts atlightness, the work of keeping up the maid's spirits fell mostly toDanton (though Father Claude did what he could). As matters graduallybecame adjusted, Danton's cheery, hearty manner began to tell; and nowthat there was little choice of company, the maid turned to him forher diversion.

  On the morning of the second day after leaving Three Rivers, the two_voyageurs_ were carrying the canoe to the water when Guerin slippedon a wet log, throwing the canoe to the ground, and tearing a widerent in the bark. Menard was impatient at this carelessness. Theknowledge that the Three Rivers detachment had already gone on toMontreal had decided him to move more rapidly, and he had given ordersthat they should start each day in the first light of the dawn. Thiswas a chill morning. A low, heavy fog lay on the river, thinning, at ayard above the water, into a light mist which veiled what colour mayhave been in the east.

  While Guerin and Perrot were patching the canoe under Menard's eye,Danton found some dry logs under the brush, and built up the dyingfire, which was in a rocky hollow, not visible from the river. Then heand the maid sat on the rocks above it, where they could get thewarmth, and yet could see the river. Menard and his men, though only afew rods away, were but blurred forms as they moved about the canoe,gumming the new seams.

  The maid, save for an occasional heavy hour in the late evenings, hadsettled into a cheerful frame of mind. The novelty, and the manyexciting moments of the journey, as well as the kindness of the threemen, kept her thoughts occupied. Danton, once he had shaken off hissulky fits, was good company. They sat side by side on the rock,looking down at the struggling fire, or at the figures moving aboutthe canoe, or out into the white mystery of the river, talking easilyin low tones of themselves and their lives and hopes.

  The mist, instead of rising, seemed to settle closer to the water, asthe broad daylight came across the upper air. The maid and Danton fellinto silence as the picture brightened. Danton was less sensitive thanshe to the whims of nature, and tiring of the scene, he was gazingdown into the fire when the maid, without a word, touched his arm. Helooked up at her; then, seeing that her eyes were fixed on the river,followed her gaze. Not more than a score of yards from the shore,moving silently through the mist, were the heads of three Indians.Their profiles stood out clearly against the white background; theirshoulders seemed to dissolve into the fog. They passed slowly on upthe stream, looking straight ahead, without a twitch of the eyelids,like a vision from the happy hunting-ground.

  Danton slipped down from the rock, and stepped lightly to Menard,pointing out the three heads just as they were fading into thewhiteness about them. Menard motioned to Guerin and Perrot to get thenewly patched canoe into the water, took three muskets, and in amoment pushed off, leaving Danton with the maid and the priest, whohad retired a short distance for his morning prayers. For a minute theheads of the three white men were in sight above the fog, then theytoo were swallowed up.

  "I wonder what Menard thinks about them?" said Danton, going backtoward the maid.

  She was still looking at the mist, and did not hear him, so he took aseat at the foot of the rock and rubbed the hammer of his musket,which had been rusted by the damp. After a time the maid looked towardhim.

  "What does it mean?" she asked.

  "I don't know," Danton replied. "They were going up-stream in a canoe,I suppose. Probably he thinks they can give us some information."

  In a few minutes, during which the mist was clearing under the rays ofthe sun, the two canoes together came around a wooded point andbeached. The Indians walked silently to the fire. They appeared not tosee Danton and the maid. Menard paused to look over his canoe. It wasleaking badly, and before joining the group at the fire, he set thecanoemen at work making a new patch.

  "The Indians walked silently to the fire."]

  "Danton," he said, in a low tone, when he reached the fire, "find theFather."

  Danton hurried away, and Menard turned to the largest of the threeIndians, who wore the brightest blanket, and had a peculiar wampumcollar, decorated in mosaic-like beadwork.

  "You are travellers, like ourselves," he said, in the Iroquois tongue."We cannot let you pass without a word of greeting. I see that you areof the Onondagas, my brothers. It may be that you are from the Missionat the Sault St. Francis Xavier?"

  The Indian bowed. "We go from Three Rivers to Montreal."

  "I, too, am taking my party to Montreal." Menard thought it wise towithhold the further facts of his journey. "Have you brothers at ThreeRivers?"

  "No," replied the Indian. "We have been sent with a paper from theSuperior at Sault St. Francis Xavier to the good fathers at ThreeRivers. Now we are on our return to the Mission."

  "Have my brothers eaten?" Menard motioned toward the fire. "It isstill early in the day."

  The three bowed. "We are travelling fast," said the spokesman, "forthe Superior awaits our return. We ate before the light. It will soonbe time for us to go on our journey."

  Menard saw Father Claude and Danton approaching, and waited for them.The face of the large Indian seemed like some other face that had hada place in his memory. It was not unlikely that he had known thiswarrior during his captivity, when half a thousand braves had been tohim as brothers. The Indian was apparently of middle age, and hadlines of dignity and authority in his face that made it hard to accepthim as a subdued resident at the Mission. But Menard knew that no signof doubt or suspicion must appear in his face, so he waited for thepriest. The Indians sat with their knees drawn up and their blanketswrapped about them, looking stolidly at the fire.

  Father Claude came quietly into the group, and with a smile extendedhis hand to the smallest of the three, an older man, with a wrinkledface. "I did not look for you here, Teganouan. Have you gone back tothe Mission?"

  Teganouan returned the smile, and bowed.

  "My brother has told the white man of our errand?"

  "Yes," said Menard, "they have been sent to Three Rivers by theSuperior, and are now returning. I have told them that we, too, aregoing to Montreal."

  The priest took the hint. "We shall meet you and your brothers again,Teganouan. They are newcomers at the Mission, I believe. They had notcome when I left."

  "No, Father. They have but last week become Christians. The LongArrow" (inclining his head toward the large Indian) "has lost a son,and through his suffering was led to take the faith."

  The Long Arrow, who had seemed to lose interest in the conversation assoon as he had finished speaking, here rose.

  "My brothers and the good Father will give us their blessing? The endof the journey is yet three days away. I had hoped that we might bepermitted to accept the protection of the son of Onontio,"--he lookedat Menard,--"but I see that his canoe will not be ready for thejourney before the sun is high." He looked gravely from Menard to thepriest, then walked to the shore, followed by the others. They pushedoff, and shortly disappeared around the point of land.

  Menard gave them no attention, but as soon as they were gone fromsight, he turned to the priest.

  "Well, Father, what do you make of that?"

  Father Claude shook his head.

  "Nothing, as yet, M'sieu. Do you know who the large man is?"

  "No; but I seem to remember him. And what is more to the point, hecertainly remembers me."

  "Are you sure?"

  "He recognized me on the river. He came back with me so willinglybecause he wanted to know more about us. That was plain. It would bewell, Father, to enquire at the Mission. We should know more of themand their errand at Three Rivers."


  Menard called Danton, and walked with him a little way into the wood.

  "Danton," he said, "you are going through this journey with us, and Iintend that you shall know about such matters as this meeting with theOnondagas."

  "Oh, they were Onondagas?"

  "Yes. They claim to be Mission Indians, but neither the Father nor Ialtogether believe them." In a few sentences Menard outlined theconversation. "Now, Danton, this may or may not be an importantincident. I want you to know the necessity for keeping our own counselin all such matters, dropping no careless words, and letting noemotions show. I wish you would make a point of learning the Iroquoislanguage. Father Claude will help you. You are to act as my right-handman, and you may as well begin now to learn to draw your ownconclusions from an Indian's words."

  Danton took eagerly to the lessons with Father Claude, for they seemedanother definite step toward the excitement that surely, to his mind,lay in wait ahead. The studying began on that afternoon, while theywere toiling up against the stream.

  In the evening, when the dusk was coming down, and the little camp wasready for the night, Menard came up from the heap of stores, where the_voyageurs_ had already stretched out, and found the maid sittingalone by the fire. Danton, in his rush of interest in the new study,had drawn Father Claude aside for another lesson.

  "Mademoiselle is lonely?" asked Menard, sitting beside her.

  "No, no, M'sieu. I have too many thoughts for that."

  "What interesting thoughts they must be."

  "They are, M'sieu. They are all about the Indians this morning. Tellme, M'sieu,--they called you Onontio. What does it mean?"

  "They called me the son of Onontio, because of my uniform. Onontio,the Great Mountain, is their name for the Governor; and the Governor'ssoldiers are to them his sons."

  "They speak a strange language. It is not the same as that of theOttawas, who once worked for my father."

  "Did you know their tongue?"

  "A few words, and some of the signs. This,"--raising her hand, withthe first finger extended, and slowly moving her arm in a half circlefrom horizon to horizon,--"this meant a sun,--one day."

  Menard looked at her for a moment in silence. He enjoyed herenthusiasm.

  "Why don't you learn Iroquois? You would enjoy it. It is a beautifultongue,--the language of metaphor and poetry."

  "I should like to," she replied, looking with a faint smile at Dantonand the priest, who were sitting under a beech tree, mumbling in lowtones.

  "You shall join the class, Mademoiselle. You shall begin to-morrow. Itwas thoughtless of Danton to take the Father's instruction to himselfalone."

  "And then, M'sieu, I will know what the Indians say when they sit upstiffly in their blankets, and talk down in their throats. They havesuch dignity. It is hard not to believe them when they look straightat one."

  "Don't you believe them?"

  "The three this morning,--they did not tell the truth."

  "Didn't they?"

  "Why, I understood that you did not believe them."

  "And where did Mademoiselle learn that? Did she follow the conversation?"

  "No; but Lieutenant Danton--"

  "He told you?"

  She nodded. Menard frowned.

  "He shouldn't have done that."

  The maid looked surprised at his remark, and the smile left her face."Of course, M'sieu," she said, a little stiffly, "whatever is notmeant for my ears--"

  Menard was still frowning, and he failed to notice her change inmanner. He abruptly gave the conversation a new turn, but seeing aftera short time that the maid had lost interest in his sallies, he rose,and called to the priest.

  "Father, you are to have a new pupil. Mademoiselle also will study thelanguage of the Iroquois. If you are quick enough with your pupils, weshall soon be able to hold a conversation each night about the fire.Perhaps, if you would forego your exclusive air, Mademoiselle wouldbegin at once."

  Danton, without waiting for the priest to start, came hurriedly overand sat by the maid.

  "You must pardon me," he said, "I did not think,--I did not know thatyou would be interested. It is so dry."

  The maid smiled at the fire.

  "You did not ask," she replied, "and I could not offer myself to theclass."

  "It will be splendid," said Danton. "We shall learn the language ofthe trees and the grass and the rivers and the birds. And the messageof the wampum belt, too, we shall know. You see,"--looking up atMenard,--"already I am catching the meanings."

  Menard smiled, and then went down the bank, leaving the three to bendtheir heads together over the mysteries of the Iroquois rules ofgender, written out by Father Claude on a strip of bark. It was nearlyan hour later, after the maid had crept to her couch beneath thecanoe, and Perrot and Guerin had sprawled upon the bales and weresnoring in rival keys, that Danton came lightly down the slope humminga drinking song. He saw Menard, and dropped to the ground beside him,with a low laugh.

  "Mademoiselle will lead my wits a chase, Menard. Already she is deepin the spirit of the new work."

  "Be careful, my boy, that she leads no more than your wits a chase."

  Danton laughed again.

  "I don't believe there is great danger. What a voice she has! I didnot know it at first, when she was frightened and spoke only in thelower tones. Now when she speaks or laughs it is like--"

  "Like what?"

  "There is no fit simile in our tongue, light as it is. It may be thatin the Iroquois I shall find the words. It should be something aboutthe singing brooks or the voice of the leaves at night."

  The lad was in such buoyant spirits that Menard had to harden himselffor the rebuke which he must give. With the Indian tribes Menard hadthe tact, the control of a situation, that would have graced a councilof great chiefs; but in matters of discipline, the blunter facultiesand language of the white men seemed to give his wit no play. Now, asnearly always, he spoke abruptly.

  "Have you forgotten our talk of this morning, Danton?"

  "No," replied the boy, looking up in surprise.

  The night had none of the dampness that had left a white veil over themorning just gone. The moon was half hidden behind the western trees.The sky, for all the dark, was blue and deep, set with thousands ofstars, each looking down at its mate in the shining water.

  "I spoke of the importance of keeping our own counsel."

  Danton began to feel what was coming. He looked down at the groundwithout replying.

  "To-night Mademoiselle has repeated a part of our conversation."

  "Mademoiselle,--why, she is one of our party. She knows about us,--whowe are, what we are going for--"

  "Then you have told her, Danton?"

  "How could she help knowing? We are taking her to Frontenac."

  "Father Claude has not told her why we go to Frontenac--nor have I."

  "But Major Provost is her friend--"

  "He would never have told her."

  "But she seemed to know about it."

  "Then you have talked it over with her?"

  "Why, no,--that is, in speaking of our journey we said something ofthe meaning of the expedition. It could hardly be expected that we,--Ifail to see, Captain, what it is you are accusing me of."

  "You have not been accused yet, Danton. Let me ask you a question. Whydid you enter the King's army?"

  Danton hesitated, and started once or twice to frame answer, but madeno reply.

  "Did you wish a gay uniform, to please the maids, to--"

  "You are unfair, M'sieu."

  "No, I wish to know. We will say, if you like, that you have hoped tobe a soldier,--a soldier of whom the King may one day have cause to beproud."

  Danton flushed, and bowed his head.

  "I offered you the chance to go on this mission, Danton, because Ibelieved in you. I believed that you had the making of a soldier. Thisis not a child's errand, this of ours. It is the work of strong men.This morning I told you of my talk with the three Onondagas because Ih
ave planned to take you into my confidence, and to give you thechance to make a name for yourself. I made a point of the importanceof keeping such things to yourself."

  "But Mademoiselle, M'sieu, she is different--"

  "Look at the facts, Danton. I told you this morning: within twelvehours you have passed on your information. How do I know that youwould not have let it slip to others if you had had the chance? Youforget that Mademoiselle is a woman, and the first and last duty of asoldier is to tell no secrets to a woman."

  "You speak wrongly of Mademoiselle. It is cowardly to talk thus."

  Menard paused to get control of his temper.

  "Cowardly, Danton? Is that the word you apply to your commander?"

  "Your pardon, M'sieu! A thousand pardons! It escaped me--"

  "We will pass it by. I want you to understand this matter. Mademoisellewill spend a night in Montreal. We shall leave her with other women. Astray word, which to her might mean nothing, might be enough to givethe wrong persons a hint of the meaning of our journey. A moment'snervousness might slip the bridle from her tongue. All New France isnot so loyal that we can afford to drop a chance secret here andthere. As to this maid, she is only a child, and by giving her oursecrets, you are forcing her to bear a burden which we should bearalone. These Indians this morning were spies, I am inclined tobelieve, scouting along the river for information of the comingcampaign. The only way that we can feel secure is by letting no wordescape our lips, no matter how trivial. I tell you this, not so muchfor this occasion as for a suggestion for the future."

  "Very well, M'sieu. You will please accept my complete apologies."

  "I shall have to add, Danton, that if any further mistake of this kindoccurs I shall be forced to dismiss you from my service. Now that Ihave said this, I want you to understand that I don't expect it tohappen. I have believed in you, Danton, and I stand ready to be afriend to you."

  Menard held out his hand. Danton clasped it nervously, mumbling asecond apology. For a few moments longer they sat there, Menard tryingto set Danton at ease, but the boy was flushed, and he spoke only halfcoherently. He soon excused himself and wandered off among the treesand the thick bushes.

  During the next day Danton was in one of his sullen moods. He workedfeverishly, and, with the maid, kept Father Claude occupied for thegreater part of the time, as they paddled on, with conversation, andwith discussion of the Iroquois words. The maid felt the change fromthe easy relations in the party, and seemed a little depressed, butshe threw herself into the studying. Often during the day she wouldtake up a paddle, and join in the stroke. At first Menard protested,but she laughed, and said that it was a "rest" after sitting so long.

  They were delayed on the following day by a second accident to thecanoe, so that they were a full day late in reaching Montreal. Theymoved slowly up the channel, past the islands and the green banks withtheir little log-houses or, occasionally, larger dwellings built afterthe French manner. St. Helen's Island, nearly opposite the city, had astraggling cluster of hastily built bark houses, and a larger group oftents where the regulars were encamped, awaiting the arrival ofGovernor Denonville with the troops from Quebec.

  Menard stopped at the island, guiding the canoe to the bank where along row of canoes and bateaux lay close to the water.

  "You might get out and walk around," he said to the others. "I shallbe gone only a few moments."

  Father Claude sat on the bank, lost in meditation. Danton and the maidwalked together slowly up and down, beyond earshot from the priest.Since Menard's rebuke, both the lad and the maid had shown a slighttrace of resentment. It did not come out in their conversation, butrather in their silences, and in the occasions which they took to sitand walk apart from the others. It was as if a certain common groundof interest had come to them. The maid, for all her shyness and eventemper, was not accustomed to such cool authority as Menard wasdeveloping. The priest was keeping an eye on the fast-growingacquaintanceship, and already had it vaguely in mind to call it to theattention of Menard, who was getting too deeply into the spirit andthe details of his work to give much heed.

  Menard was soon back.

  "Push off," he said. "The Major is not here. We shall have to look forhim in the city."

  They headed across the stream. The city lay before them, on its gentleslope, with the mountain rising behind like an untiring sentry. It wasearly in the afternoon, and on the river were many canoes and smallboats, filled with soldiers, friendly Indians, or _voyageurs_, movingback and forth between the island and the city. They passed close tomany of the bateaux, heaped high with provision and ammunition bales,and more than once the lounging soldiers rose and saluted Menard.

  At the city wharf he turned to Danton.

  "We shall have to get a larger canoe, Danton, and a stronger. Will yousee to it, please? We shall have two more in our party from now on.Make sure that the canoe is in the best of condition. Also I wish youwould see to getting the rope and the other things we may need inworking through the rapids. Then spend your time as you like. We shallstart early in the morning."

  Menard and Father Claude together went with the maid to the Superior,who arranged for her to pass the night with the sisters. Then Menardleft the priest to make his final arrangements at the Mission, andwent himself to see the Commandant, to whom he outlined the bare factsof his journey to Frontenac.

  "The thing that most concerns you," he said finally, "is a meeting Ihad a few days ago with three Indians down the river. One calledhimself the Long Arrow, and another was Teganouan, who, Father deCasson tells me, recently left the Mission at the Sault St. FrancisXavier. They claim to be Mission Indians. It will be well to watchout for them, and to have an eye on the Richelieu, and the otherroutes, to make sure that they don't slip away to the south withinformation."

  "Very well," replied the Commandant. "I imagine that we can stop them.Do you feel safe about taking this maid up the river just now?"

  "Oh, yes. Our men are scattered along the route, are they not?" Menardasked.

  "Quite a number are out establishing Champigny's transport system."

  "I don't look for any trouble. But I should like authority for one ortwo extra men."

  "Take anything you wish, Menard. I will get word over to the island atonce, giving you all the authority you need."