Forge In The Forest Part 22

We found the place deserted. Either the man of the house had been a tool of La Garne, or he feared that I would hold him responsible. Which it was, I know not to this day; and, at the time, we gave small thought to the question, merely commending the fellow's wisdom in removing himself from our indignation. What engaged our concern was a single snow-shoe track making westward, followed by the trail of a little sledge.

"Yes," said I; "Xavier is surely right. The Abbe has gone to cross the Habitants and the Canard where they are little, and will then, belike, turn down the valley to Pereau!"

"Very like!" grunted my companion; and, at a long lope, we started up the trail.

This pace, however, soon told upon me, and brought it into my mind that I had, that day, eaten nothing but a bowl of broth. We halted, therefore, and rested half an hour in the warmth of a dense spruce coppice, and ate abundantly of that very savoury beef. Then, much revived, we set out again. Treading one behind the other, we marched, in silence, through the glimmering dark; for Big Etienne was no talker, while I, for my part, was gnawing my heart with rage, and hope frustrated, and the picture of Mizpah's anguish. We never stayed our pace till we came, at the edge of dawn, to the spot where the trail went over the dwindled upper current of the Habitants.

Here, to our astonishment, the trail turned eastward, following down the course of the river.

I looked at the Indian in wondering consternation.

"What can it mean?" I cried. "Can there be any new plot of his hatching at Canard?"

"Maybe!" said Big Etienne.

At thought of further perils threatening Mizpah and Marc, the weariness which had been growing upon me vanished, and I sprang forward as briskly as if we had but just set out. Even Big Etienne, though he had no such incentive as mine, seemed to win new vigour with the contemplation of this new coil of the enemy's. If, indeed, he appeared somewhat fresher than I throughout the latter half of this hard march, it is but justice to myself to say that he bore no wound from the late battle.

At last, when it was well past ten of the morning, the trail led us out upon the main Canard track, and turned toward the settlement.

"Yes," said I, with bitter conviction; "he has gone to Canard. He would never go there had he not some deep scheme of mischief afoot. G.o.d grant we be in time!"

In less than half an hour we came within sight of the Forge in the ForeSt. To my astonishment, the smoke was pouring in furious volume from the forge chimney.

"What can Babin be about? Or can Mizpah and Marc be there already?" I wondered aloud; but got no answer from my companion. A moment later, a turn of the track brought us to a post of vantage whence we could see straight into the forge. The sight which met our eyes brought us to an instant stop from sheer amazement.

Chapter XXIII.

The Rendezvous at the Forge.

BESIDE the forge-fire stood Grul. On his left arm was perched Philip, half wrapped in the black-and-yellow cloak, and playing with Grul's white wand. At the back of the forge, fettered to the wall, and with his hands bound behind him, stood the black form of our adversary. Grul was heaving upon the bellows, and in the fierce white glow of the coal stuck a number of irons heating. These he turned and twisted with fantastic energy, now and then drawing one forth and brandis.h.i.+ng it with a kind of mad glee, so as best to show the intensity of its colour; and whenever he did so little Philip shouted with delight.

The joy that surged through my breast as I took in all this astonis.h.i.+ng turn of affairs, was something which I have no words to tell of.

"Mary, Mother of Heaven, be praised for this!" I cried fervently.

"What will he do with irons?" queried Big Etienne, with a curiously startled note in his voice.

Indeed, what now followed was sufficiently startling.

Grul had caught sight of us. Immediately he set the child down, heaved twice or thrice mightily upon the bellows, and then drew from the fire two white-hot rods of iron. With these, one in each hand, he approached the Black Abbe, treading swiftly and sinuously like a panther. I darted forward, chilled with sudden horror.

A short scream of mortal fear came from the wretched captive's lips.

"Stop! stop!" I shouted, as those terrible brands went circling hither and thither about the cringing form.

The next instant, and ere I could reach the scene to interfere, the Abbe gave a huge bound, reached the door, and plunged out into the snow, pursued by a peal of wild laughter from Grul's lips. This most whimsical of madmen had befooled his captive, in much the same fas.h.i.+on as once before on the cliff beside the des Saumons. He had used the deadly iron merely to free him from his bonds, and again held in reserve his full vengeance.

Fetching a huge breath of relief, I joined in Grul's mocking laughter; while Big Etienne gave a grunt of manifest dissatisfaction. As for the Black Abbe, though the sweat of his terror stood in beads upon his forehead, he recovered his composure marvellously.

Having run some dozen paces he stopped, turned, and gazed steadily upon Grul for perhaps the s.p.a.ce of a full minute. Then, sweeping a scornful glance across the child, the Indian, and myself, he half opened his lips to speak. But if he judged himself not then best ready to speak with dignity, -- let no one marvel at that. He changed his purpose, folded his arms across his breast, and strode off slowly and in silence along the track toward Grand Pre.

I thought his shadow, as it fell long and sinister across the snow, lay blacker than was the common wont of shadows.

Big Etienne was already within, and Philip in his arms.

As I entered the forge door Grul cried solemnly, as if to extenuate his act in freeing the prisoner:-

"His cup is not yet full."

Seizing both his hands in mine, I tried with stammering lips to thank him; but, something to my chagrin, he cut me short most ungraciously. s.n.a.t.c.hing his hands away, he stepped outside the door, and raised his thrilling, bell-like chant:-

"Woe, woe to Acadie the Fair, for the day of her desolation cometh."

Beyond all words though my grat.i.tude was, I could not refrain from shrugging my shoulders at this fantastic mummery, as I turned to embrace little Philip. My heart was rioting with joy and hope, and I could not trouble my wits with these mad whimsies of Grul's. When he had quit prophesying and come again within the forge, I tried to draw from him some account of how he had so achieved the child's rescue and the Black Abbe's utter discomfiture. But he wandered from the matter, whether wilfully or not I could by no means decide; and presently, catching a ghost of a smile on the face of Big Etienne, I gave up and rested thankful for what I had got. As for Philip, he was amiably gracious to both Big Etienne and myself, but it was manifest that all his little heart had gone out to Grul; and the two were presently playing together in a corner of the forge, at some game which none but themselves could understand.

It wanted yet an hour of noon, when, as I stood in the door consuming my heart with impatience, yet unwilling to go and meet Mizpah and so mar the climax which I had plotted for, I caught sight of two figures approaching.

I needed not eyes to tell me one was Mizpah, for the blood shook in all my veins at sight of her. The other was Father Fafard.

"Marc," said I to myself, "is not yet strong enough to venture so far; and the maid Prudence has stayed with him. But Mizpah is here -- Mizpah is here!"

With eyes of delight I dwelt upon her tall, slim form, in its gown of blue woollen cloth which set off so rarely the red-gold enchantment of her hair. But when she was come near enough for me to mark the eager welcome in her eyes and on her lips, I waved at her, clumsily enough, and turned within to catch at a little self-possession. Not having my snow-shoes on, I could not be expected to go and meet her; and that waiting in the door-way was too much for me to endure.

"Keep Philip behind the chimney, out of sight," I whispered eagerly to Grul; and somewhat to my wonder he obeyed.

On the next instant Mizpah stood in the door, smiling upon me, her face all aglow with expectation and greeting; and I found myself clasping both of her white hands. But my tongue refused to speak, -- deeming, perchance, that my eyes were usurping its office.

Finding at length a word of welcome for the good priest, I wrung his hand fervently, then turned again to Mizpah.

But my first speech was stupid, -- so stupid that I wished most heartily that I had held my tongue.

"Comrade," said I, "this is a glad day for me."

Her face fell, and her eyes reproached me.

"Because you have defeated and slain my people?" she asked.

My face grew hot for the flat inept.i.tude of my words.

"No! no! Not for that!" I cried pa.s.sionately, "but for _this!_"

And I turned to s.n.a.t.c.h Philip from his corner behind the chimney.

But Grul was too quick for me. He could play no second part at any time, he. Evading my hands, he slipped past me, and himself placed the child in Mizpah's arms.

I cursed inwardly at his abruptness, though in truth he had done just what I was intending to do myself. As Mizpah, with a gasping cry, crushed the little one to her bosom, she went white as a ghost and tottered against the anvil. I sprang to support her, but withheld my arm ere it touched her waist, for even on the instant she had recovered herself. With wordless mother-cries she kissed Philip's lips and hair, and buried her face in his neck, he the while clinging to her as if never again for a moment could he let her go.

Presently, while I waited in great hunger for a word, she turned to Big Etienne and Grul.

"My friends!" she cried, in a shaken voice which faithfully uttered her heart, "my true and loyal friends!" Whereupon she wrung their hands, and wrung them, and would have spoken further but that her voice failed her.

Then, after a moment or two, she turned to me, -- yet not wholly.

The paleness had by this well vanished, and her eyes, those great sea-coloured eyes, which she would not lift to mine, were running over with tears. Philip took one st.u.r.dy little arm from her neck, and stretched out his hand to me; but I ignored the invitation.

"And what -- what have you got for me, Mizpah?" I asked, in a very low voice, indeed -- a voice perhaps not just as steady as that of a noted bush-fighter is supposed to be at a crisis.