The Road to Frontenac Part 41

The water that bore them onward was the water that washed the beach at Frontenac. Days might pa.s.s and find them still on the road; but they would be glorious days, with the sun overhead and the breeze at their backs, and at evening the wonder of the western sky to make the water golden with promise. As they swung their paddles, the maid with them, their eyes were full of dreams,--all save Teganouan. His eyes were keen and cunning, and when they looked to the north it was not with thoughts of home. It may be that he was dreaming of the deed which might yet win back his lost name as an Onondaga warrior.

The sun hung over the lake when at last the canoe touched the beach.

They ate their simple meal almost in silence, and then sat near the fire watching the afterglow that did not fade from the west until the night was dark and the moon high over the dim line that marked the eastern end of the lake. The sense of relief that had come to them with the first sight of the lake was fading now. They were thinking of Frontenac, and of what might await them there,--the priest soberly, the maid bravely, the Captain grimly. Later, when the maid had said good-night, and Father Claude had wandered down the beach to the water's edge, Menard dragged a new log to the fire and threw it on, sending up the flame and sparks high above the willows of the bank. He stretched out and looked into the flames.

Teganouan, who had been lying on the sand, heard a rustle far off in the forest and raised his head. He heard it again, and rose, standing motionless; then he took his musket and came toward the fire. The Captain lay at full length, his chin on his hands. He was awake, for his eyes were open, but he did not look up. The Indian hesitated, and stood a few yards away looking at the silent figure, as if uncertain whether to speak. Finally he stepped back and disappeared among the willows.

Half an hour went by. Father Claude came up the beach, walking slowly.

"It is growing late, M'sieu, for travellers."

Menard glanced up, but did not reply. The priest was looking about the camp.

"Where is Teganouan, M'sieu? Did you give him permission to go away?"

"No; he is here,--he was here." Menard rose. "You are right, he has gone. Has he taken his musket?"

"I think so. I do not see it."

"He left it leaning against the log. No; it is not there. Wait,--do you hear?"

They stood listening; and both caught the faint sound of a body moving between the bushes that grew on the higher ground, close to the line of willows. Menard took up his musket and held it ready, for they had not left the country of the Iroquois.

"Here he comes," whispered Father Claude. "Yes, it is Teganouan."

The Indian was running toward them. He dropped his musket, and began rapidly to throw great handfuls of sand upon the fire. The two white men sprang to aid him, without asking an explanation. In a moment the beach was lighted only by the moon. Then Menard said:--

"What is it, Teganouan?"

"Teganouan heard a step in the forest. He went nearer, and there were more. They are on the war-path, for they come cautiously and slowly."

"Father, will you keep by the maid? We must not disturb her now. You had better heap up the sand about the canoe so that no stray ball can reach her."

The priest hurried down the beach, and Menard and the Indian slipped into the willows, Menard toward the east, Teganouan toward the west, where they could watch the forest and the beach on all sides. The sound of an approaching party was now more distinct. There would be a long silence, then the crackle of a twig or the rustle of dead leaves; and Menard knew that the sound was made by moccasined feet. He was surprised that the invaders took so little caution; either they were confident of finding the camp asleep, or they were in such force as to have no fear. While he lay behind a scrub willow conjecturing, Father Claude came creeping up behind him.

"I will watch with you, M'sieu. It will make our line longer."

"Is she safe?"

"Yes. I have heaped the sand high around the canoe, even on the side toward the water."

"Good. You had better move off a little nearer the lake, and keep a sharp eye out. It may be that they are coming by water as well, though I doubt it. The lake is very light. I will take the centre. You have no musket?"

"No; but my eyes are good."

"If you need me, I shall be close to the bushes, a dozen yards farther inland."

They separated, and Menard took up his new position. Apparently the movement had stopped. For a long time no sound came, and then, as Menard was on the point of moving forward, a branch cracked sharply not twenty rods away. He called in French:--

"Who are you?"

For a moment there was silence, then a rush of feet in his direction.

He could hear a number of men bounding through the bushes. He c.o.c.ked his gun and levelled it, shouting this time in Iroquois:--

"Stand, or I will fire!"

"I know that voice! Drop your musket!" came in a merry French voice, and in another moment a st.u.r.dy figure, half in uniform and half in buckskin, bearded beyond recognition, had come cras.h.i.+ng down the slope, throwing his arms around the Captain's neck so wildly that the two went down and rolled on the sand. Before Menard could struggle to his feet, three soldiers had followed, and stood laughing, forgetting all discipline, and one was saying over and over to the other:--

"It is Captain Menard! Don't you know him? It is Captain Menard!"

"You don't know me, Menard, I can see that. I wish I could take the beard off, but I can't. What have you done with my men?"

Now Menard knew; it was Du Peron.

"I left them at La Gallette," he said.

"I haven't seen them--oh, killed?"

Menard nodded.

"Come down the beach and tell me about it. What condition are you in?

Have you anybody with you?" Before Menard could answer, he said to one of the soldiers:--

"Go back and tell the sergeant to bring up the canoes."

They walked down the beach, and the other soldiers set about building a new fire.

"Perhaps I'd better begin on you," Menard said. "What are you doing here? And what in the devil do you mean by coming up through the woods like a Mohawk on the war-path?"

The Lieutenant laughed.

"My story isn't a long one. I'm cleaning up our base of supplies at La Famine. We've got a small guard there. The main part of the rear-guard is back at Frontenac."

"Where is the column?"

"Gone to Niagara, Denonville and all, to build a fort. They'll give it to De Troyes, I imagine. It's a sort of triumphal procession through the enemy's country, after rooting up the Seneca villages and fields and stockades until you can't find an able-bodied redskin this side of the Cayugas. Oh, I didn't answer your other question. What do you think of these?" He held out a foot, shod in a moccasin. "You'd never know the King's troops now, Menard. We're wearing anything we can pick up. I've got a dozen canoes a quarter of a league down the lake. I saw your fire, and thought it best to reconnoitre before bringing the canoes past." He read the question in Menard's glance. "We are not taking out much time for sleep, I can tell you. It's all day and all night until we get La Famine cleared up. There is only a handful of men there, and we're expecting every day that the Cayugas and Onondagas will sweep down on them."

"They won't bother you," said Menard.

"Maybe not, but we must be careful. For my part, I look for trouble.

The nations stand pretty closely by each other, you know."

"They won't bother you now."

"How do you know?"

"What did I come down here for?"

"They didn't tell me. Oh, you had a mission to the other nations? But that can't be,--you were captured."