When Wilderness Was King Part 28

"Then 't will serve us most excellently to hide in, for there will be naught left within likely to attract marauders. Think you that you could find it through the night?"

He looked at me, and it was easy to see his nerves were on edge.

"Alone?" he gasped brokenly. "My G.o.d, no!"

There was seemingly no way out of it, for it would have been little short of murder to leave him alone on that black prairie, nor would harsh words have greatly mended matters. We were fully an hour at it, creeping cautiously along behind the scattered bushes until we pa.s.sed the forks and swam the river's northerly branch. The action did him good, and greatly helped to steady my own nerves, as the uproar of the savages died steadily away behind us.

At last we came out upon a slight knoll, and found ourselves close beside the low charred walls of what remained of Ouilmette's log-cabin.

'T was a most gloomy and desolate spot, but quiet enough, with never the rustle of a leaf to awake the night, or startle us.

"Have you got back your nerve, Monsieur?" I asked, as we paused before the dark outline, "or must I also help you to explore within?"

"'T is not shadows that terrify me," he answered, no doubt thoroughly ashamed of his weakness, and eager to make amends; "nor is it likely that anything to affright me greatly is behind these walls."

I lay p.r.o.ne in the gra.s.s at the corner of the cabin, my eyes fixed upon the distant Indian village, where I could yet plainly distinguish numberless black figures dodging about between me and the flames; while further to the east, the greater blaze of the Fort buildings lighted up, in a wide arc, the deserted prairie. I gave little consideration to De Croix's exploit,--indeed, I had almost forgotten it, when suddenly the fellow sprang backward out of the open door, a cry of wild terror upon his lips, and his hands outstretched as it to ward off some unearthly vision.

"Mon Dieu!" he sobbed hoa.r.s.ely, falling upon his knees. "'T was the face of Marie!"

CHAPTER XXVIII

AN ANGEL IN THE WILDERNESS

He acted so like a crazed man, grovelling face downward in the gra.s.s, 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 starlight and faint glare of the distant fires.

"'T was 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, G.o.d be merciful! she awaited me yonder in the gloom."

"Pis.h.!.+" 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 hara.s.s 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 s.p.a.ce, 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-s.p.a.ce 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 un.o.bserved. 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 't is not part of your nature so to exhibit fear."

"'T is 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 G.o.d, spared from the ma.s.sacre," 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 friends.h.i.+p."

"Here?"

"At Fort Dearborn, where she was left an orphan."

"How strange! how very strange indeed! 'T is 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?"