The Road to Frontenac Read online

  CHAPTER V.

  DANTON BREAKS OUT.

  When Menard reached the wharf, early on the following morning, hefound Father Claude waiting for him. The new canoe lay on the wharf,and beside it was a heap of stores. Perrot and the two new _engages_sat on the edge of the wharf. The sun had just risen over the trees onSt. Helen's Island, and the air was clear and cool.

  "Well, Perrot," said Menard, as he unslung his musket and horn, "iseverything ready?"

  "Everything, M'sieu."

  "Where is Guerin?"

  "I have not seen him, M'sieu."

  Menard turned to the priest.

  "Good-morning, Father. You are on time, I see; and that is more thanwe can say for Danton. Where is the boy?"

  "He has gone for Mademoiselle St. Denis, Captain. He was here beforethe sunrise, checking up the stores."

  "Learning to work, is he? That is a good sign. And how about yourself?Did you pick up anything yesterday?"

  "Yes," replied the priest. "I enquired at the Mission about Teganouanand his companions."

  "Well?"

  "Nothing is known of them. Teganouan had been one of the worstdrunkards among the Onondagas, and his conversion, a year ago, wasthought to be one of our greatest victories for the faith. Hispenances were among the most complete and purging ever--"

  "And the others?"

  "Just before I left the Mission for Quebec, Teganouan went on anerrand to the city and fell among some of our fellow-countrymen whowere having a drinking bout. For a few days after that he wavered, andfell again. Once afterward he was seen in company with two lowfellows, _coureurs de bois_, who have since been confined undersuspicion of communicating with the enemy."

  "He has returned to the Mission, then?"

  "No, he disappeared some time ago. They do not know the Long Arrow. Idescribed him to Brother de Lamberville--"

  "Oh, he is here now?"

  "Yes. It seems, further, that all the other workers among the Iroquoishave had word and are returning. That much of my labour is removed."

  "How do they get this word?" said Menard, impatiently. "That is theold question. It is enough to make one wonder if there are any secretskept from the enemy's country."

  "No one seems to know, M'sieu. The Superior told me last night thatthey had not been sent for, so it would seem that the information musthave reached them through the Indians."

  "The folly of these new governors!" Menard strode back and forth. "Oh,it makes one sigh for old Frontenac. He never walked blindfolded intosuch a trap as this. But go on. You were speaking of Father deLamberville."

  "It was only that I described the Long Arrow to Brother de Lamberville.He seemed to remember such a wampum collar as the Long Arrow wore. Hecould not recall exactly."

  "Then we may as well forget the incident. It seems that we are to knownothing of it. Here is Danton."

  The lieutenant and the maid were walking rapidly down to the wharf.Mademoiselle was in a gay mood after her few hours of enjoyment amongthe comforts of a city.

  "Good-morning," she called, waving her hand.

  "Good-morning," said Menard, shortly. He did not look a second time,to see her smile fade, for Guerin had not appeared, and he was rapidlylosing patience. He walked up and down the wharf for a few moments,while Danton found a seat for the maid and the two talked together.

  "Perrot," he said, "do you know where Guerin was last evening?"

  "Yes, M'sieu. He was at the inn."

  "What was he doing? Drinking?"

  "A little, M'sieu."

  "Go up there, on the run. If you don't find him there, come rightback, for we can't wait much longer for anyone."

  Perrot ran up the street and disappeared. In a few moments he came insight, striding down between the row of houses, holding Guerin firmlyby one arm. The young fellow was hanging back, and stumbling in limpfashion. He was evidently drunk. Danton, who had joined Menard whenthe two men appeared, said, "Heavens, he must have started early!"

  Some distance behind Perrot and Guerin came a ragged crowd ofwoodsmen, singing, jeering, and shouting, and bearing broad traces ofa sleepless night.

  Menard stood waiting with a look of disgust. When they came upon thewharf Guerin laughed, and tried to get out a flippant apology for histardiness; but Menard seized him before the words were off his lips,and dragging him across the wharf threw him into the water. Then heturned to Perrot, and said, "Pull him out."

  The two new men stood uneasily near, with startled faces. Behind themthe maid was sitting, a frightened look in her eyes. Danton hadrisen.

  "Clear away from here!" Menard called to the drunken rabble, who hadcollected a few rods away, and were now hesitating between laughterand fright. They stood looking at each other and at Menard, then theyslunk away.

  In all an hour had gone before they were ready to start. Guerin wasweak and shivering from his plunge, but Menard ordered him into thecanoe. The incident drew a cloud over the maid's spirits, andaltogether depressed the party, so that not until afternoon did theyget into conversation. By that time they were past the Lachine Rapidsand the Sault St. Louis, where the men made a portage, and Danton ledthe maid along the bank through the tangled brush and briers. When atlast they were ready to push on across Lake St. Louis the maid's skirtwas torn in a dozen places, and a thorn had got into her hand, whichDanton carefully removed with the point of his knife, wincing andflushing with her at each twinge of pain. During the rest of the day,they had an Iroquois lesson, and by the end of the afternoon when thesun was low, and Menard headed for the shore of Isle Perrot, the maidwas bright again, laughing over Danton's blunders in the newlanguage.

  They spent the next day on the island, for what with wind and rainthe lake was impassable for their canoe. The men built a hut of brushand bark which sheltered the party from the driving rain. Menard'smood lightened at the prospect of a rest, and he started a longconversation in Iroquois which soon had even Father Claude laughingin his silent way. The rain lessened in the afternoon, but the windwas still running high. Menard and the _engages_ went out early inthe afternoon and repacked all the supplies, in order that theweight might be distributed more evenly in the canoe. With this andother work he was occupied until late in the afternoon. Father Claudetook the occasion for a solitary walk, and for meditation. When Menardentered the hut he found the maid sitting with her head restingagainst one of the supporting trees. She wore a disturbed, unsettledexpression. Danton evidently had been sitting or standing near her,for when Menard entered, stooping, he was moving across the hut in ahesitating, conscious manner. The Captain looked at them curiously.

  "I'm afraid we'll have to take away a part of your house to pay foryour supper," he said. "Everything is wet outside that might do forfirewood. Lend a hand, Danton." He gathered logs and sticks from thefloor and walls, and carried them out. Danton, after a quick looktoward the maid (which, of course, Menard saw), did the same.

  The Captain was the first to reenter the hut. The maid had not moved,and her eyes were puzzled and wearied, but she tried to smile.

  "Has it stopped raining?" she asked.

  Menard gave her an amused glance, and pointed to a sparkling beam ofsunlight that came slanting in through an opening in the wall, andburied itself in a little pool of light on the trampled ground. Shelooked at it, flushed, and turned her eyes away. He stood for amoment, half minded to ask the question that was on his tongue, butfinally held it back. In a moment Danton came back, lookingsuspiciously at each of them as he stooped to gather another armful ofwood.

  Menard was thoughtful during the evening meal. Afterward he slippedhis arm through Father Claude's, and led him for a short walk, givinghim an account of the incident. "I didn't say anything at the time,"he concluded, "partly because I thought I might be mistaken, andpartly because it would have been the worst thing I could do. I beginto see--I should have foreseen it before I spoke to him about thegirl--that we have trouble ahead, Father, with these preciouschildren. I confess I don't know just what to do about it. W
e mustthink it over. Anyway, you had better talk to her. She would tell youwhat she wouldn't tell me. If he's annoying her, we must know it."

  Father Claude was troubled.

  "The maid is in our care," he said, "and also in that of LieutenantDanton. It would seem that he--"

  "There's no use in expecting him to take any responsibility, Father."

  "Yes, I suppose you are right. He is a child."

  "Will you go to the maid, Father, and get straight at the truth? Yousee that I cannot meddle with her thoughts without danger of beingmisinterpreted. It is you who must be her adviser."

  The priest acquiesced, and they returned to the camp, to find the maidstill sitting alone, with a troubled face, and Danton puttering aboutthe fire with a show of keeping himself occupied. They ate in silence,in spite of Menard's efforts to arouse them. After the meal they hungabout, each hesitating to wander away, and yet seeing no pleasure ingathering about the fire. Menard saw that Father Claude had it in mindto speak to the maid, so he got Danton away on a pretext of lookingover the stores. But he said nothing of the episode that was in alltheir minds, preferring to await the priest's report.

  After the maid had gone to her couch beneath the canoe, and Danton hadwandered into the wilderness that was all about them, Father Claudejoined Menard at the fire.

  "Well, Father, what word?"

  "Softly, M'sieu. It is not likely that she sleeps as yet."

  "Well?"

  "I have talked long with her, but she is of a stubborn mind."

  "How is that?"

  "She was angry at first. She spoke hastily, and asked me in shortterms to leave her in solitude. And then, after a time, when she beganto see that it was her welfare and our duty which I had in mind, andnot an idle curiosity, she was moved."

  "Did she speak then?"

  "No, M'sieu, she wept, and insisted that there was no trouble on hermind,--it was merely the thought of her home and her father that hadcast her down."

  "And so she has pride," mused Menard. "Could you gather any newopinions, Father? Do you think that they may already have come to someunderstanding?"

  "I hardly think so, M'sieu. But may I suggest that it would be well tobe firm with Lieutenant Danton? He is young, and the maid is in ourtrust,"

  "True, Father. I will account for him."

  There seemed to be nothing further to do at the moment, so the priestwent to his blanket, and Menard drew a bundle under his head and wentto sleep, after a glance about the camp to see that the sentry was onwatch. Now that Montreal lay behind, and the unsettled forest before,with only a thin line of Frenchmen stretched along the river betweenthem and Fort Frontenac, he had divided the night into watches, andeach of the four _engages_ stood his turn.

  The following day was all but half gone before the wind had dropped toa rate that made the passage of the lake advisable. Menard ordered thenoon meal for an hour earlier than usual, and shortly afterward theyset out across the upper end of Lake St. Louis to the foot of thecascades. Before the last bundle had been carried up the portage toBuisson Pointe, the dusk was settling over the woods across the river,and over the rising ground on Isle Perrot at the mouth of the Ottawa.

  During the next day they passed on up the stream to the Coteau desCedres. Menard and Father Claude were both accustomed to take therapid without carrying, or even unloading, but Danton looked at theswirling water with doubt in his eyes. When the maid, leaning back inthe canoe while the men halted at the bank to make fast for thepassage, saw the torrent that tumbled and pitched merrily down towardthem, she laughed. To hold a sober mood for long was not in herbuoyant nature, and she welcomed a dash of excitement as a relief fromthe strained relations of the two days just gone.

  "M'sieu," she called to Menard, with a sparkle in her eyes. "Oh,M'sieu, may I stay in the canoe?"

  Danton turned quickly at the sound of her voice, and a look, half ofpain, half of surprise, came over his face as he saw her eagerness.Menard looked at her in doubt.

  "It may be a wet passage, Mademoiselle."

  "And why not, M'sieu? Have I not been wet before? See, I will protectmyself." She drew the bundles closely about her feet, and threw ablanket across her knees. "Now I can brave the stream, Captain.Or,"--her gay tone dropped, and she looked demurely at him,--"perhapsit is that I am too heavy, that I should carry myself up the bank. Iwill obey my orders, Captain." But as she spoke she tucked the blanketcloser about her, and stole another glance at Menard.

  He smiled. He was thinking of Madame Gordeau and her fragile daughter,who had shuddered with fear at a mere glimpse of the first rapid."Very well," he said, "Mademoiselle shall stay in the canoe."

  "But it is not safe"--broke in Danton, stepping forward. Then,conscious of the blunder, he turned away, and took up the rope.

  "Lay hold, boys," said Menard.

  Perrot and one of the new men waded into the water, and laid hold ofthe gunwales on each side of the bow. Menard himself took the stern.He called to Danton, who stood awkwardly upon the bank, "Take the ropewith the men."

  Guerin made the rope fast and set out ahead, with the other men andDanton close behind. Father Claude rolled up his robe and joinedthem.

  "Wait," called Menard, as the rope straightened. "Mademoiselle, I amsorry to disturb you, but if you will sit farther back you will haveless trouble from the spray." He waded along the side, and helped herto move nearer the stern, placing the bundles and the blanket abouther as before. Then he shouted, "All right," and they started into thefoaming water.

  They toiled slowly up the incline, catching at rocks to steady theircourse, and often struggling for a foothold. Once Menard ordered ahalt at a large rock, and all rested for a moment.

  When they started again, the men at the bow of the canoe had sometrouble in holding it steady, for their feet were on a stretch ofsmooth rock, and Menard called Danton back to help them. The boyworked his way along the rope, and reached the bow.

  "Come around behind Perrot," said Menard.

  Danton reached around Perrot's body, and caught hold of the gunwale.At that moment his foot slipped, and he fell, dragging the side of thecanoe down with him. The men at the bow did their best to prevent acapsize, but succeeded only in keeping half the bundles in the canoe.The others, the muskets, and the maid went into the river.

  Menard moved forward as rapidly as he could against the current. Themaid was unable at once to get her feet, used as she was to the water,and was swept down against him. He caught her, and, steadying himselfwith one hand, by the water-logged canoe, raised her head and held herwhile she struggled for a footing and shook the water from her eyes.Before she was wholly herself, Danton came plunging toward them.

  "Give her to me!" he said huskily. "I've drowned her! My God, let mehave her!"

  "Stop," said Menard, sternly. "Take the men, and go after thosebales--quick!"

  Danton looked stupidly at him and at the maid, who was wiping thewater from her face with one hand, and holding tightly to the Captain.Then he followed Perrot, who had already, with the two new men andFather Claude, commenced to get together the bales, most of which hadsunk, and were moving slowly along the bottom. Menard still had hisarm about the girl's shoulders. He helped her to the shore.

  "Keep moving, Mademoiselle,--don't sit down. In a moment we shall havea fire. Father Claude," he called, "bring the canoe ashore." Then tothe maid, "There are yet some dry blankets, thank God."

  Mademoiselle was herself now, and she protested. "But it is onlywater, M'sieu. Let me go on with you, beyond the rapids."

  Menard merely shook his head. The canoe was soon on the bank, andemptied of water. The other men were beginning to come in with soakedbundles and dripping muskets. Each bale was opened, and the contentsspread out to dry, while Guerin was set to work at drying the musketswith a cloth. Perrot and Danton built a rough shelter for the maid,enclosing a small fire, and gave her some dry blankets. Then each mandried himself as best he could.

  This accident threw Danton into a fit of gloomin
ess from which nothingseemed to arouse him. He was careless of his duty, and equallycareless to the reprimands that followed. This went on for two days,during which the maid seemed at one moment to avoid him, and atanother to watch for his coming. In the evening of the second dayfollowing, the party camped at Pointe a Baudet, on Lake St. Francis.The supper was eaten in a silence more oppressive than usual, forneither Menard nor Father Claude could overcome the influence ofDanton's heavy face and the maid's troubled eyes. After the supper thetwo strolled away, and sat just out of earshot on a mossy knoll. Forhours they talked there, their voices low, save once or twice whenDanton's rose. They seemed to have lost all count of time, all heed ofappearances. Menard and the priest made an effort at first to appearunobservant, but later, seeing that their movements were beyond thesight of those unheeding eyes, they took to watching and speculatingon the course of the conversation. The night came on, and the darkclosed over them. Still the murmur of those low voices floated acrossthe camp.

  Father Claude, with a troubled mind, went down to the water, andwalked slowly up and down. Menard saw to the final preparations forthe night, and posted the first sentry. Then he joined the priest.

  "Father?"

  "Yes."

  "I think it is time to speak."

  "I fear it is, M'sieu."

  "I must leave it in your hands."

  "Shall I go now?"

  "Yes."

  Without further words, Father Claude walked up the bank, cracklingthrough the bushes. From this spot the voices were inaudible, and fora few moments there was no sound. Then Menard could hear some onemoving heavily through the undergrowth, going farther and farther intothe stillness, and he knew that it was Danton. He sat on the bank withhis back against a tree, and waited for a long hour. At last hedropped asleep.

  He was awakened by Father Claude. The priest dropped to the groundbeside him. His training had given Menard the faculty of awakinginstantly into full grasp of a situation.

  "Well," he said. "Where is the maid?"

  "She has gone to her couch, but not to sleep, I fear. It has come,M'sieu."

  "What has come?"

  "Danton has lost his senses. He asks her to marry him, to flee withhim. It is a difficult case. She has had no such experience before,and knows not how to receive him. She seems to have no love for him,beyond the pleasure his flattery has given her. She believes all hesays. One thing I know, aside from all questions of expediency, ofcare for our trust, this must not go on."

  "Not for the present, at least. She may do what she will, once we havetaken her safely to Frontenac."

  "No, M'sieu; not even then. We must stop it at once."

  "Oh, of course," said Menard; "so far as we are concerned, we have nochoice. You need not bother longer to-night. I will wait for the boy.I am sorry for him."

  "I should have more pity, if I knew less of his past."

  "Tush, Father! He is not a bad fellow, as they go. To be sure he doesnot rise any too well to new responsibilities, but he will grow intoit. It is better an honest infatuation with the daughter of agentleman than a dishonest one with an Indian maid. And you know ourofficers, Father. God knows, they are all bad enough; and yet they areloyal fellows."

  "Ah, M'sieu, I fear you will be too lenient with him. Believe me, wehave not a minute to waste in stopping the affair."

  "Have no fear, Father. Good-night."

  "Good-night."

  Menard lay on the bank, gazing at the sparkling water, and listeningto the slow step of the sentry and to the deeper sounds of the forest.Another hour crept by, and still Danton had not returned. Menardwalked about the camp to make sure that he was not already rolled inhis blanket; then he went to the sentry, who was leaning against atree a few rods away.

  "Colin," he said, "have you seen Lieutenant Danton?"

  "Yes, M'sieu. He is up there." Colin pointed through the trees thatfringed the river. "I heard a noise some time ago, and went up to see.He is lying under a beech tree, if he has not moved,--and I shouldhave heard him if he had. It may be that he is asleep."

  Menard nodded, and walked slowly along the bank, bending aside thebriers that caught at his clothes and his hands.