The Road to Frontenac Part 46

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

"Very well, Lieutenant."

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

He sharpened a quill with his sheath-knife, and began to copy the report, making further corrections here and there. Something more than an hour had pa.s.sed before the work was finished. He rolled up the doc.u.ment and tied it with a thong of deerskin.

It was still early in the evening, but the fort was as silent as at midnight. Menard opened the door and walked out a little way. The lamps were all burning, but no soldiers were to be seen. The barrack windows 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 the ladder 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 blew in upon the Captain as he stood by the table. He felt over the table for 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 the little garrison drew up outside the sally-port and presented arms. The allies and the mission Indians were crowding down upon the beach, silent, inquisitive,--puffing at their short pipes. For half a league, from the flat, white beach out over the rose-tinted water stretched an irregular black line of canoes and bateaux, all bristling with muskets. The Governor had come. He could be seen kneeling, all sunburned and ragged but with erect head, in the first canoe. His canoemen checked their swing, for the beach was close at hand, and then backed water. The bow sc.r.a.ped, and a dozen hands were outstretched in aid, but Governor Denonville stepped briskly out into the ankle-deep water and carried his own pack ash.o.r.e. A cheer went up from 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 the water and was echoed back from the forest.

In the doorway of a hut near the Recollet Chapel stood Menard and Valerie. They watched canoe after canoe glide up and empty its load of soldiers, not speaking as they watched, but thinking each the same thought. At last, when the straggling line was pouring into the fort, and the bugles were screaming, and the drum rolling, Valerie slipped her 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.