"She has been pledged me in marriage, Monsieur—the banns published."

I sat with bowed head, my cheeks flaming.

"'Tis then as I understood," La Barre went on, chuckling. "The lady is over modest."

"I have made no pledge," I broke in desperately. "Monsieur spoke to my Uncle Chevet, not I!"

"Yet you were told! You made no refusal?"

"Monsieur, I could not; they arranged it all, and, besides, it was not to be until Monsieur returned from the West. I do not love him; I thought—"

"Bah! what is love? 'Tis enough that you accepted. This affair is no longer one of affection; it has become the King's business, a matter of State. I decide it is best for you to leave Quebec; ay! and New France, Mademoiselle. There is but one choice, imprisonment here, or exile into the wilderness." He leaned forward staring into my face with his fierce, threatening eyes. "I feel it better that you go as Monsieur Cassion's wife, and under his protection. I decree that so you shall go."

"Alone—with—with—Monsieur Cassion?"

"One of his party. 'Tis my order also that Hugo Chevet be of the company. Perchance a year in the wilderness may be of benefit to him, and he might be of value in watching over young De Artigny."

Never have I felt more helpless, more utterly alone. I knew all he meant, but my mind grasped no way of escape. His face leered at me as through a mist, yet as I glanced aside at Cassion it only brought home to me a more complete dejection. The man was glad—glad! He had no conscience, no shame. To appeal to him would be waste of breath—a deeper humiliation. Suddenly I felt cold, hard, reckless; ay! they had the power to force me through the unholy ceremony. I was only a helpless girl; but beyond that I would laugh at them; and Cassion—if he dared—

The door opened, and a lean priest in long black robe entered noiselessly, bending his shaven head to La Barre, as his crafty eyes swiftly swept our faces.

"Monsieur desired my presence?"

"Yes, Pere le Guard, a mission of happiness. There are two here to be joined in matrimony by bonds of Holy Church. We but wait the coming of the lady's guardian."

The pere must have interpreted the expression of my face.

"'Tis regular, Monsieur?" he asked.

"By order of the King," returned La Barre sternly. "Beyond that it is not necessary that you inquire. Ah! Monsieur Chevet! they found you then? I have a pleasant surprise for you. 'Tis hereby ordered that you accompany Commissaire Cassion to the Illinois country as interpreter, to be paid from my private fund."

Chevet stared into the Governor's dark face, scarce able to comprehend, his brain dazed from heavy drinking.

"The Illinois country! I—Hugo Chevet? 'Tis some joke, Monsieur."

"None at all, as you will discover presently, my man. I do not jest on the King's service."

"But my land, Monsieur; my niece?"

La Barre permitted himself a laugh.

"Bah! let the land lie fallow; 'twill cost little while you draw a wage, and as for Mademoiselle, 'tis that you may accompany her I make choice. Stand back; you have your orders, and now I'll show you good reason." He stood up, and placed his hand on Cassion's arm. "Now my dear, Francois, if you will join the lady."



CHAPTER VI

THE WIFE OF FRANCOIS CASSION

It is vague, all that transpired. I knew then, and recall now, much of the scene yet it returns to memory more in a passing picture than an actual reality in which I was an actor. But one clear impression dominated my brain—my helplessness to resist the command of La Barre. His word was law in the colony, and from it there was no appeal, save to the King. Through swimming mist I saw his face, stern, dark, threatening, and then glimpsed Cassion approaching me, a smile curling his thin lips. I shrank back from him, yet arose to my feet, trembling so that I clung to the chair to keep erect.

"Do not touch me, Monsieur," I said, in a voice which scarcely sounded like my own. Cassion stood still, the smile of triumph leaving his face. La Barre turned, his eyes cold and hard.

"What is this, Mademoiselle? You would dare disobey me?"

I caught my breath, gripping the chair with both hands.

"No, Monsieur le Governor," I answered, surprised at the clearness with which I spoke. "That would be useless; you have behind you the power of France, and I am a mere girl. Nor do I appeal, for I know well the cause of your decision. It is indeed my privilege to appeal to Holy Church for protection from this outrage, but not through such representative as I see here."

"Pere le Guard is chaplain of my household."

"And servant to your will, Monsieur. 'Tis known in all New France he is more diplomat than priest. Nay! I take back my word, and will make trial of his priesthood. Father, I do not love this man, nor marry him of my own free will. I appeal to you, to the church, to refuse the sanction."

The priest stood with fingers interlocked, and head bowed, nor did his eyes meet mine.

"I am but the humble instrument of those in authority, Daughter," he replied gently, "and must perform the sacred duties of my office. 'Tis your own confession that your hand has been pledged to Monsieur Cassion."

"By Hugo Chevet, not myself."

"Without objection on your part." He glanced up slyly. "Perchance this was before the appearance of another lover, the Sieur de Artigny."

I felt the color flood my cheeks, yet from indignation rather than embarrassment.

"No word of love has been spoken me by Monsieur de Artigny," I answered swiftly. "He is a friend, no more. I do not love Francois Cassion, nor marry him but through force; ay! nor does he love me—this is but a scheme to rob me of my inheritance."

"Enough of this," broke in La Barre sternly, and he gripped my arm. "The girl hath lost her head, and such controversy is unseemly in my presence. Pere le Guard, let the ceremony proceed."

"'Tis your order, Monsieur?"

"Ay! do I not speak my will plainly enough? Come, the hour is late, and our King's business is of more import than the whim of a girl."

I never moved, never lifted my eyes. I was conscious of nothing, but helpless, impotent anger, of voiceless shame. They might force me to go through the form, but never would they make me the wife of this man. My heart throbbed with rebellion, my mind hardened into revolt. I knew all that occurred, realized the significance of every word and act, yet it was as if they appertained to someone else. I felt the clammy touch of Cassion's hand on my nerveless fingers, and I must have answered the interrogatories of the priest, for his voice droned on, meaningless to the end. It was only in the silence which followed that I seemed to regain consciousness, and a new grip on my numbed faculties. Indeed I was still groping in the fog, bewildered, inert, when La Barre gave utterance to a coarse laugh.

"Congratulations, Francois," he cried. "A fair wife, and not so unwilling after all. And now your first kiss."

The sneer of these words was like a slap in the face, and all the hatred, and indignation I felt seethed to the surface. A heavy paper knife lay on the desk, and I gripped it in my fingers, and stepped back, facing them. The mist seemed to roll away, and I saw their faces, and there must have been that in mine to startle them, for even La Barre gave back a step, and the grin faded from the thin lips of the Commissaire.

"'Tis ended then," I said, and my voice did not falter. "I am this man's wife. Very well, you have had your way; now I will have mine. Listen to what I shall say, Monsieur le Governor, and you also, Francois Cassion. By rite of church you call me wife, but that is your only claim. I know your law, and that this ceremony has sealed my lips. I am your captive, nothing more; you can rob me now—but, mark you! all that you will ever get is money. Monsieur Cassion, if you dare lay so much as a finger on me, I will kill you, as I would a snake. I know what I say, and mean it. You kiss me! Try it, Monsieur, if you doubt how my race repays insult. I will go with you; I will bear your name; this the law compels, but I am still mistress of my soul, and of my body. You hear me, Messieurs? You understand?"

Cassion stood leaning forward, just where my first words had held him motionless. As I paused his eyes were on my face, and he lifted a hand to wipe away drops of perspiration. La Barre crumpled the paper he held savagely.

"So," he exclaimed, "we have unchained a tiger cat. Well, all this is naught to me; and Francois, I leave you and the wilderness to do the taming. In faith, 'tis time already you were off. You agree to accompany the party without resistance, Madame?"

"As well there, as here," I answered contemptuously.

"And you, Hugo Chevet?"

The giant growled something inarticulate through his beard, not altogether, I thought, to La Barre's liking, for his face darkened.

"By St. Anne! 'tis a happy family amid which you start your honeymoon, Monsieur Cassion," he ejaculated at length, "but go you must, though I send a file of soldiers with you to the boats. Now leave me, and I would hear no more until word comes of your arrival at St. Louis."

We left the room together, the three of us, and no one spoke, as we traversed the great assembly hall, in which dancers still lingered, and gained the outer hall. Cassion secured my cloak, and I wrapped it about my shoulders, for the night air without was already chill, and then, yet in unbroken silence, we passed down the steps into the darkness of the street. I walked beside Chevet, who was growling to himself, scarce sober enough to clearly realize what had occurred, and so we followed the Commissaire down the steep path which led to the river.

There was no pomp now, no military guard, or blazing torches. All about us was gloom and silence, the houses fronting the narrow passage black, although a gleam of fire revealed the surface of the water below. The rough paving made walking difficult, and I tripped twice during the descent, once wrenching an ankle, but with no outcry. I was scarce conscious of the pain, or of my surroundings, for my mind still stood aghast over what had occurred. It had been so swiftly accomplished I yet failed to grasp the full significance.

Vaguely I comprehended that I was no longer Adele la Chesnayne, but the wife of that man I followed. A word, a muttered prayer, an uplifted hand, had made me his slave, his vassal. Nothing could break the bond between us save death. I might hate, despise, revile, but the bond held. This thought grew clearer as my mind readjusted itself, and the full horror of the situation took possession of me. Yet there was nothing I could do; I could neither escape or fight, nor had I a friend to whom I could appeal. Suddenly I realized that I still grasped in my hand the heavy paper knife I had snatched up from La Barre's desk, and I thrust it into the waistband of my skirt. It was my only weapon of defense, yet to know I had even that seemed to bring me a glow of courage.

We reached the river's edge and halted. Below us, on the bank, the blazing fire emitted a red gleam reflecting on the water, and showing us the dark outlines of waiting canoes, and seated figures. Gazing about Cassion broke the silence, his voice assuming the harshness of authority.

"Three canoes! Where is the other? Huh! if there be delay now, someone will make answer to me. Pass the word for the sergeant; ah! is this you Le Claire?"

"All is prepared, Monsieur."

He glared at the stocky figure fronting him in infantry uniform.

"Prepared! You have but three boats at the bank."

"The other is below, Monsieur; it is loaded and waits to lead the way."

"Ah! and who is in charge?"

"Was it not your will that it be the guide—the Sieur de Artigny?"

"Sacre! but I had forgotten the fellow. Ay! 'tis the best place for him. And are all provisions and arms aboard? You checked them, Le Claire?"

"With care, Monsieur; I watched the stowing of each piece; there is nothing forgotten."

"And the men?"

"Four Indian paddlers to each boat, Monsieur, twenty soldiers, a priest, and the guide."

"'Tis the tally. Make room for two more in the large canoe; ay, the lady goes. Change a soldier each to your boat and that of Pere Allouez until we make our first camp, where we can make new arrangement."

"There is room in De Artigny's canoe."

"We'll not call him back; the fellows will tuck away somehow. Come, let's be off, it looks like dawn over yonder."

I found myself in one of the canoes, so filled with men any movement was almost impossible, yet of this I did not complain for my Uncle Chevet was next to me, and Cassion took place at the steering oar in the stern. To be separated from him was all I asked, although the very sound of his harsh voice rasping out orders, as we swung out from the bank rendered me almost frantic. My husband! God! and I was actually married to that despicable creature! I think I hardly realized before what had occurred, but now the hideous truth came, and I buried my face in my hands, and felt tears stealing through my fingers.

Yet only for a moment were these tears of weakness. Indignation, anger, hatred conquered me. He had won! he had used power to conquer! Very well, now he would pay the price. He thought me a helpless girl; he would find me a woman, and a La Chesnayne. The tears left my eyes, and my head lifted, as purpose and decision returned.

We were skirting the northern bank, the high bluffs blotting out the stars, with here and there, far up above us, a light gleaming from some distant window, its rays reflecting along the black water. The Indian paddlers worked silently, driving the sharp prow of the heavily laden canoe steadily up stream. Farther out to the left was the dim outline of another boat, keeping pace with ours, the moving figures of the paddlers revealed against the water beyond.

I endeavored to discern the canoe which led the way, over which De Artigny held command, but it was hidden by a wall of mist too far away to be visible. Yet the very thought that the young Sieur was there, accompanying us into the drear wilderness, preserved me from utter despair. I would not be alone, or friendless. Even when he learned the truth, he would know it was not my fault, and though he might question, and even doubt, at first, yet surely the opportunity would come for me to confess all, and feel his sympathy, and protection. I cannot explain the confidence which this certainty of his presence brought, or how gratefully I awaited the dawn, and its revelation.

'Tis not in the spirit of youth to be long depressed by misfortune, and although each echo of Cassion's voice recalled my condition, I was not indifferent to the changing scene. Chevet, still sodden with drink, fell asleep, his head on his pack, but I remained wide awake, watching the first faint gleam of light along the edge of the cloud stretching across the eastern sky line. It was a dull, drear morning, everywhere a dull gray, the wide waters about us silent and deserted. To the right the shore line was desolate and bare, except for blackened stumps of fire-devastated woods, and brown rocks, while in every other direction the river spread wide in sullen flow. There was no sound but the dip of the paddles and the heavy breathing.

As the sun forced its way through the obscuring cloud, the mist rose slowly, and drifted aside, giving me glimpse of the canoe in advance, although it remained indistinct, a vague speck in the waste of water. I sat motionless gazing about at the scene, yet vaguely comprehending the nature of our surroundings. My mind reviewed the strange events of the past night, and endeavored to adjust itself to my new environment. Almost in an instant of time my life had utterly changed—I had been married and exiled; wedded to a man whom I despised, and forced to accompany him into the unknown wilderness. It was like a dream, a delirium of fever, and even yet I could not seem to comprehend its dread reality. But the speeding canoes, the strange faces, the occasional sound of Cassion's voice, the slumbering figure of Chevet was evidence of truth not to be ignored, and ahead yonder, a mere outline, was the boat which contained De Artigny. What would he say, or do, when he learned the truth? Would he care greatly? Had I read rightly the message of his eyes? Could I have trust, and confidence in his loyalty? Would he accept my explanation! or would he condemn me for this act in which I was in no wise to blame? Mother of God! it came to me that it was not so much Monsieur Cassion I feared, as the Sieur de Artigny. What would be his verdict? My heart seemed to stop its beating, and tears dimmed my eyes, as I gazed across the water at that distant canoe. I knew then that all my courage, all my hope, centered on his decision—the decision of the man I loved.



CHAPTER VII

THE TWO MEN MEET

I could not have slept, although I must have lost consciousness of our surroundings, for I was aroused by Cassion's voice shouting some command, and became aware that we were making landing on the river bank. The sun was two hours high, and the spot selected a low grass-covered point, shaded by trees. Chevet had awakened, sobered by his nap, and the advance canoe had already been drawn up on the shore, the few soldiers it contained busily engaged in starting fires with which to cook our morning meal.

I perceived De Artigny with my first glance, standing erect on the bank, his back toward us, directing the men in their work. As we shot forward toward the landing he turned indifferently, and I marked the sudden straightening of his body, as though in surprise, although the distance gave me no clear vision of his face. As our canoe came into the shallows, he sprang down the bank to greet us, hat in hand, his eyes on me. My own glance fell before the eagerness in his face, and I turned away.

"Ah! Monsieur Cassion," he exclaimed, the very sound of his voice evidencing delight. "You have guests on the journey; 'tis unexpected."

Cassion stepped over the side, and fronted him, no longer a smiling gallant of the court, but brutal in authority.

"And what is that to you, may I ask, Sieur de Artigny?" he said, coldly contemptuous. "You are but our guide, and it is no concern of yours who may compose the company. 'Twill be well for you to remember your place, and attend to your duties. Go now, and see that the men have breakfast served."

There was a moment of silence, and I did not even venture to glance up to perceive what occurred, although I felt that De Artigny's eyes shifted their inquiry from Cassion's face to mine. There must be no quarrel now, not until he knew the truth, not until I had opportunity to explain, and yet he was a firebrand, and it would be like him to resent such words. How relieved I felt, as his voice made final answer.

"Pardon, Monsieur le Commissaire," he said, pleasantly enough. "It is true I forgot my place in this moment of surprise. I obey your orders."

I looked up as he turned away, and disappeared. Cassion stared after him, smothering an oath, and evidently disappointed at so tame an ending of the affair, for it was his nature to bluster and boast. Yet as his lips changed to a grin, I knew of what the man was thinking—he had mistaken De Artigny's actions for cowardice, and felt assured now of how he would deal with him. He turned to the canoe, a new conception of importance in the sharp tone of his voice.

"Come ashore, men; ay! draw the boat higher on the sand. Now, Monsieur Chevet, assist your niece forward to where I can help her to land with dry feet—permit me, Adele."

"It is not at all necessary, Monsieur," I replied, avoiding his hand, and leaping lightly to the firm sand. "I am no dainty maid of Quebec to whom such courtesy is due." I stood and faced him, not unpleased to mark the anger in his eyes. "Not always have you shown yourself so considerate."

"Why blame me for the act of La Barre?"

"The act would never have been considered had you opposed it, Monsieur. It was your choice, not the Governor's."

"I would wed you—yes; but that is no crime. But let us understand each other. Those were harsh words you spoke in anger in the room yonder."

"They were not in anger."

"But surely—"

"Monsieur, you have forced me into marriage; the law holds me as your wife. I know not how I may escape that fate, or avoid accompanying you. So far I submit, but no farther. I do not love you; I do not even feel friendship toward you. Let me pass."

He grasped my arm, turning me about until I faced him, his eyes glaring into mine.

"Not until I speak," he replied threateningly. "Do not mistake my temper, or imagine me blind. I know what has so suddenly changed you—it is that gay, simpering fool yonder. But be careful how far you go. I am your husband, and in authority here."

"Monsieur, your words are insult; release your hand."

"So you think to deceive! Bah! I am too old a bird for that, or to pay heed to such airs. I have seen girls before, and a mood does not frighten me. But listen now—keep away from De Artigny unless you seek trouble."

"What mean you by that threat?"

"You will learn to your sorrow; the way we travel is long, and I am woodsman as well as soldier. You will do well to heed my words."

I released my arm, but did not move. My only feeling toward him at that moment was one of disgust, defiance. The threat in his eyes, the cool insolence of his speech, set my blood on fire.

"Monsieur," I said coldly, although every nerve of my body throbbed, "you may know girls, but you deal now with a woman. Your speech, your insinuation is insult. I disliked you before; now I despise you, yet I will say this in answer to what you have intimated. Monsieur de Artigny is nothing to me, save that he hath shown himself friend. You wrong him, even as you wrong me, in thinking otherwise, and whatever the cause of misunderstanding between us, there is no excuse for you to pick quarrel with him."

"You appear greatly concerned over his safety."

"Not at all; so far as I have ever heard the Sieur de Artigny has heretofore proven himself quite capable of sustaining his own part. 'Tis more like I am concerned for you."

"For me? You fool! Why, I was a swordsman when that lad was at his mother's knee." He laughed, but with ugly gleam of teeth. "Sacre! I hate such play acting. But enough of quarrel now; there is sufficient time ahead to bring you to your senses, and a knowledge of who is your master. Hugo Chevet, come here."

My uncle climbed the bank, his rifle in hand, with face still bloated, and red from the drink of the night before. Behind him appeared the slender black-robed figure of the Jesuit, his eyes eager with curiosity. It was sight of the latter which caused Cassion to moderate his tone of command.

"You will go with Chevet," he said, pointing to the fire among the trees, "until I can talk to you alone."

"A prisoner?"

"No; a guest," sarcastically, "but do not overstep the courtesy."

We left him in conversation with the pere, and I did not even glance back. Chevet breathed heavily, and I caught the mutter of his voice. "What meaneth all this chatter?" he asked gruffly. "Must you two quarrel so soon?"

"Why not?" I retorted. "The man bears me no love; 'tis but gold he thinks about."

"Gold!" he stopped, and slapped his thighs. "'Tis precious little of that he will ever see then."

"And why not? Was not my father a land owner?"

"Ay! till the King took it."

"Then even you do not know the truth. I am glad to learn that, for I have dreamed that you sold me to this coxcomb for a share of the spoils."

"What? a share of the spoils! Bah! I am no angel, girl, nor pretend to a virtue more than I possess. There is truth in the thought that I might benefit by your marriage to Monsieur Cassion, and, by my faith, I see no wrong in that. Have you not cost me heavily in these years? Why should I not seek for you a husband of worth in these colonies? Wherefore is that a crime? Were you my own daughter I could do no less, and this man is not ill to look upon, a fair-spoken gallant, a friend of La Barre's, chosen by him for special service—"

"And with influence in the fur trade."

"All the better that," he continued obstinately. "Why should a girl object if her husband be rich?"

"But he is not rich," I said plainly, looking straight into his eyes. "He is no more than a penniless adventurer; an actor playing a part assigned him by the Governor; while you and I do the same. Listen, Monsieur Chevet, the property at St. Thomas is mine by legal right, and it was to gain possession that this wretch sought my hand."

"Your legal right?"

"Ay, restored by the King in special order."

"It is not true; I had the records searched by a lawyer, Monsieur Gautier, of St. Anne."

I gave a gesture of indignation.

"A country advocate at whom those in authority would laugh. I tell you what I say is true; the land was restored, and the fact is known to La Barre and to Cassion. It is this fact which has caused all our troubles. I overheard talk last night between the Governor and his aide-de-camp, Colonel Delguard—you know him?"

Chevet nodded, his interest stirred.

"They thought themselves alone, and were laughing at the success of their trick. I was hidden behind the heavy curtains at the window, and every word they spoke reached my ears. Then they sent for Cassion."

"But where is the paper?"

"I did not learn; they have it hidden, no doubt, awaiting the proper time to produce it. But there is such a document: La Barre explained that clearly, and the reason why he wished Cassion to marry me. They were all three talking when an accident happened, which led to my discovery."

"Ah! and so that was what hurried the wedding, and sent me on this wild wilderness chase. They would bury me in the woods—sacre!—"

"Hush now—Cassion has left the canoe already, and we can talk of this later. Let us seem to suspect nothing."

This was the first meal of many eaten together along the river bank in the course of our long journey, yet the recollection of that scene rises before my memory now with peculiar vividness. It was a bright, glorious morning, the arching sky blue overhead, and the air soft with early autumn. Our temporary camp was at the edge of a grove, and below us swept the broad river, a gleaming highway of silvery water without speck upon its surface. Except for our little party of voyagers no evidence of life was visible, not even a distant curl of smoke obscuring the horizon.

Cassion had divided us into groups, and, from where I had found resting place, with a small flat rock for table, I was enabled to see the others scattered to the edge of the bank, and thus learned for the first time, the character of those with whom I was destined to companion on the long journey. There were but four of us in that first group, which included Pere Allouez, a silent man, fingering his cross, and barely touching food. His face under the black cowl was drawn, and creased by strange lines, and his eyes burned with fanaticism. If I had ever dreamed of him as one to whom I might turn for counsel, the thought instantly vanished as our glances met.

A soldier and two Indians served us, while their companions, divided into two groups, were gathered at the other extremity of the ridge, the soldiers under discipline of their own under officers, and the Indians watched over by Sieur De Artigny, who rested, however, slightly apart, his gaze on the broad river. Never once while I observed did he turn and glance my way. I counted the men, as I endeavored to eat, scarcely heeding the few words exchanged by those about me. The Indians numbered ten, including their chief, whom Cassion called Altudah. Chevet named them as Algonquins from the Ottawa, treacherous rascals enough, yet with expert knowledge of water craft.

Altudah was a tall savage, wrapped in gaudy blanket, his face rendered sinister and repulsive by a scar the full length of his cheek, yet he spoke French fairly well, and someone said that he had three times made journey to Mackinac, and knew the waterways. There were twenty-four soldiers, including a sergeant and corporal, of the Regiment of Picardy; active fellows enough, and accustomed to the frontier, although they gave small evidence of discipline, and their uniforms were in shocking condition. The sergeant was a heavily built, stocky man, but the others were rather undersized, and of little spirit. The same thought must have been in the minds of others, for the expression on Monsieur Cassion's face was not pleasant as he stared about.

"Chevet," he exclaimed disgustedly "did ever you see a worse selection for wilderness travel than La Barre has given us? Cast your eyes down the line yonder; by my faith! there is not a real man among them."

Chevet who had been growling to himself, with scarce a thought other than the food before him, lifted his eyes and looked.

"Not so bad," he answered finally, the words rumbling in his throat. "Altudah is a good Indian, and has traveled with me before, and the sergeant yonder looks like a fighting man."

"Ay, but the others?"

"No worse than all the scum. De Baugis had no better with him, and La Salle led a gang of outcasts. With right leadership you can make them do men's work. 'Tis no kid-gloved job you have, Monsieur Cassion."

The insulting indifference of the old fur trader's tone surprised the Commissaire, and he exhibited resentment.

"You are overly free with your comments, Hugo Chevet. When I wish advice I will ask it."

"And in the woods I do not always wait to be asked," returned the older man, lighting his pipe, and calmly puffing out the blue smoke. "Though it is likely enough you will be asking for it before you journey many leagues further."

"You are under my orders."

"So La Barre said, but the only duty he gave me was to watch over Adele here. He put no shackle on my tongue. You have chosen your course?"

"Yes, up the Ottawa."

"I supposed so, although that boy yonder could lead you a shorter passage."

"How learned you that?"

"By talking with him in Quebec. He even sketched me a map of the route he traveled with La Salle. You knew it not?"

"'Twas of no moment, for my orders bid me go by St. Ignace. Yet it might be well to question him and the chief also." He turned to the nearest soldier. "Tell the Algonquin, Altudah, to come here, and Sieur de Artigny."

They approached together, two specimens of the frontier as different as could be pictured, and stood silent, fronting Cassion who looked at them frowning, and in no pleasant humor. The eyes of the younger man sought my face for an instant, and the swift glance gave harsher note to the Commissaire's voice.

"We will reload the canoes here for the long voyage," he said brusquely. "The sergeant will have charge of that, but both of you will be in the leading boat, and will keep well in advance of the others. Our course is by way of the Ottawa. You know that stream, Altudah?"

The Indian bowed his head gravely, and extended one hand beneath the scarlet fold of his blanket.

"Five time, Monsieur."

"How far to the west, Chief?"

"To place call Green Bay."

Cassion turned his eyes on De Artigny, a slight sneer curling his lips.

"And you?" he asked coldly.

"But one journey, Monsieur, along the Ottawa and the lakes," was the quiet answer, "and that three years ago, yet I scarce think I would go astray. 'Tis not a course easily forgotten."

"And beyond Green Bay?"

"I have been to the mouth of the Great River."

"You!" in surprise. "Were you of that party?"

"Yes, Monsieur."

"And you actually reached the sea—the salt water?"

"Yes, Monsieur."

"Saint Anne! I never half believed the tale true, nor do I think overmuch of your word for it. But let that go. Chevet here tells me you know a shorter journey to the Illinois?"

"Not by canoe, Monsieur. I followed Sieur de la Salle by forest trail to the Straits, and planned to return that way, but 'tis a foot journey."

"Not fitted for such a party as this?"

"Only as you trust to your rifles for food, bearing what packs we might on our backs. With the lady the trail is scarcely possible."

"As to the lady I will make my own decision. Besides, our course is decided. We go to St. Ignace. What will be your course from Green Bay?"

"Along the west shore, Monsieur; it is dangerous only by reason of storms."

"And the distance?"

"From St. Ignace?"

"Ay! from St. Ignace! What distance lies between there and this Fort St. Louis, on the Illinois?"

"'Twill be but a venture, Monsieur, but I think 'tis held at a hundred and fifty leagues."

"Of wilderness?"

"When I passed that way—yes; they tell me now the Jesuits have mission station at Green Bay, and there may be fur traders in Indian villages beyond."

"No chance to procure supplies?"

"Only scant rations of corn from the Indians."

"Your report is in accordance with my instructions and maps, and no doubt is correct. That will be all. Take two more men in your boat, and depart at once. We shall follow immediately."

As De Artigny turned away in obedience to these orders, his glance met mine, and seemed to question. Eager as I was to acquaint him with the true reason of my presence it was impossible. To have exhibited the slightest interest would only increase the enmity between the two men, and serve no good purpose. I did not even venture to gaze after him as he disappeared down the bank, feeling assured that Cassion's eyes were suspiciously watching me. My appearance of indifference must have been well assumed, for there was a sound of confidence in his voice as he bade us return to the canoes, and I even permitted him to assist me to my feet, and aid me in the descent to the shore.



CHAPTER VIII

I DEFY CASSION

Our progress was slow against the swift current of the St. Lawrence, and we kept close to the overhanging bank, following the guidance of the leading canoe. We were the second in line, and no longer over-crowded, so that I had ample room to rest at ease upon a pile of blankets, and gaze about me with interest on the changing scene.

Cassion, encouraged possibly by my permitting his attendance down the bank, found seat near me, and endeavored to converse; but, although I tried to prove cordial, realizing now that to anger the man would only add to my perplexity, his inane remarks tried me so that I ceased reply, and we finally lapsed into silence. Chevet, who held the steering oar, asked him some questions, which led to a brisk argument, and I turned away my head, glad enough to escape, and be permitted the luxury of my own thoughts.

How beautifully desolate it all was; with what fresh delight each new vista revealed itself. The wild life, the love of wilderness and solitude, was in my blood, and my nature responded to the charm of our surroundings. I was the daughter of one ever attracted by the frontier, and all my life had been passed amid primitive conditions—the wide out-of-doors was my home, and the lonely places called me. The broad, rapid sweep of the river up which we won our slow passage, the great beetling cliffs dark in shadows, and crowned by trees, the jutting rocks whitened by spray, the headlands cutting off all view ahead, then suddenly receding to permit of our circling on into the unknown—here extended a panorama of which I could never tire.

My imagination swept ahead into the mystery which awaited us in that vast wilderness toward which we journeyed—the dangerous rivers, the portages, the swift rush of gleaming water, the black forests, the plains of waving grass, the Indian villages, and those immense lakes along whose shores we were destined to find way. All this possibility had come to me so unexpectedly, with such suddenness, that even yet I scarcely realized that my surroundings were real. They seemed more a dream than an actual fact, and I was compelled to concentrate my mind on those people about me before I could clearly comprehend the conditions under which I lived.

Yet here was reality enough: the Indian paddlers, stripped to the waist, their bodies glistening, as with steady, tireless strokes, they forced our canoe forward, following relentlessly the wake of the speeding boat ahead; the little group of soldiers huddled in the bows, several sleeping already, the others amusing themselves with game of cards; while just in front of me sat the priest, his fingers clasping an open book, but his eyes on the river. The silhouette of his face, outlined beyond his black hood, seemed carved from stone, it was so expressionless and hard. There was something so sinister about it that I felt a chill run through me, and averted my eyes, only to encounter the glance of Cassion beside me, who smiled, and pointed out a huge terrace of rock which seemed a castle against the blue of the sky. I think he told me the fanciful name the earlier explorers had given the point, and related some legend with which it was connected, but my mind was not on his tale, and soon he ceased effort to entertain me, and his head nodded sleepily.

I turned to glance back beyond the massive figure of Chevet at the steering oar, to gain glimpse of the canoes behind. The first was well up, so that even the faces of its occupants were revealed, but the second was but a black shapeless thing in the distance, a mere blotch upon the waters.

Ahead of us, now sweeping around the point like a wild bird, amid a smother of spray, appeared the advance canoe. As it disappeared I could distinguish De Artigny at the stern, his coat off, his hands grasping a paddle. Above the point once more and in smoother water, I was aware that he turned and looked back, shading his eyes from the sun. I could not but wonder what he thought, what possible suspicion had come to him, regarding my presence in the company. There was no way in which he could have learned the truth, for there had been no communication between him and those who knew the facts.

Never would he conceive so wild a thought as my marriage to Cassion. He might, indeed, believe that some strange, sudden necessity had compelled me to accompany them on this adventure, or he might suspect that I had deceived him, knowing all the time that I was to be of the party. I felt the shame of it bring the red blood into my cheeks, and my lips pressed together in firm resolve. I should tell him, tell him all; and he must judge my conduct from my own words, and not those of another. In some manner I must keep him away from Cassion—ay, and from Chevet—until opportunity came for me to first communicate with him.

I was a woman, and some instinct of my nature told me that Sieur de Artigny held me in high esteem. And his was the disposition and the training to cause the striking of a blow first. That must not be, for now I was determined to unravel the cause for Cassion's eagerness to marry, and La Barre's willing assistance, and to accomplish this end there could be no quarreling between us.

The weariness of the long night conquered even my brain, the steady splash of the paddles becoming a lullaby. Insensibly my head rested back against the pile of blankets, the glint of sunshine along the surface of the water vanished as my lashes fell, and, before I knew it, I slept soundly. I awoke with the sun in the western sky, so low down as to peep at me through the upper branches of trees lining the bank. Our surroundings had changed somewhat, the shores being no longer steep, and overhung with rocks, but only slightly uplifted, and covered with dense, dark woods, somber and silent. Their shadows nearly met in midstream, giving to the scene a look of desolation and gloom, the water sweeping on in sullen flow, without sparkle, or gaiety. Our boat clung close to the west shore, and I could look long distances through the aisles of trees into the silent gloom beyond. Not a leaf rustled, not a wild animal moved in the coverts. It was like an abode of death.

And we moved so slowly, struggling upward against the current, for the Indians were resting, and the less expert hands of soldiers were wielding the paddles, urged on by Cassion, who had relieved Chevet at the steering oar. The harsh tones of his voice, and the heavy breathing of the laboring men alone broke the solemn stillness. I sat up, my body aching from the awkward position in which I lay, and endeavored to discern the other canoes.

Behind us stretched a space of straight water, and one canoe was close, while the second was barely visible along a curve of the shore. Ahead, however, the river appeared vacant, the leading boat having vanished around a wooded bend. My eyes met those of Cassion, and the sight of him instantly restored me to a recollection of my plan—nothing could be gained by open warfare. I permitted my lips to smile, and noted instantly the change of expression in his face.

"I have slept well, Monsieur," I said pleasantly, "for I was very tired."

"'Tis the best way on a boat voyage," assuming his old manner, "but now the day is nearly done."

"So late as that! You will make camp soon?"

"If that be Cap Sante yonder, 'tis like we shall go ashore beyond. Ay! see the smoke spiral above the trees; a hundred rods more and we make the turn. The fellows will not be sorry, the way they ply the paddles." He leaned over and shook Chevet. "Time to rouse, Hugo, for we make camp. Bend to it, lads; there is food and a night's rest waiting you around yonder point. Dig deep, and send her along."

As we skirted the extremity of shore I saw the opening in the woods, and the gleam of a cheerful fire amid green grass. The advance canoe swung half-hidden amid the overhanging roots of a huge pine tree, and the men were busily at work ashore. To the right they were already erecting a small tent, its yellow canvas showing plainly against the leafy background of the forest. As we circled the point closely, seeking the still water, we could perceive Altudah standing alone on a flat rock, his red blanket conspicuous as he pointed out the best place for landing. As we nosed into the bank, our sharp bow was grasped by waiting Indians and drawn safely ashore. I reached my feet, stiffened, and scarcely able to move my limbs, but determined to land without the aid of Cassion, whose passage forward was blocked by Chevet's huge bulk. As my weight rested on the edge of the canoe, De Artigny swung down from behind the chief, and extended his hand.

"A slight spring," he said, "and you land with dry feet; good! now let me lift you—so."

I had but the instant; I knew that, for I heard Cassion cry out something just behind me, and, surprised as I was by the sudden appearance of De Artigny, I yet realized the necessity for swift speech.

"Monsieur," I whispered. "Do not talk, but listen. You would serve me?"

"Ay!"

"Then ask nothing, and above all do not quarrel with Cassion. I will tell you everything the moment I can see you safely alone. Until then do not seek me. I have your word?"

He did not answer, for the Commissaire grasped my arm, and thrust himself in between us, his action so swift that the impact of his body thrust De Artigny back a step. I saw the hand of the younger man close on the knife hilt at his belt, but was quick enough to avert the hot words burning his lips.

"A bit rough, Monsieur Cassion," I cried laughing merrily, even as I released my arm. "Why so much haste? I was near falling, and it was but courtesy which led the Sieur de Artigny to extend me his hand. It does not please me for you to be ever seeking a quarrel."

There must have been that in my face which cooled him, for his hand fell, and his thin lips curled into sarcastic smile.

"If I seemed hasty," he exclaimed, "it was more because I was blocked by that boor of a Chevet yonder, and it angered me to have this young gamecock ever at hand to push in. What think you you were employed for, fellow—an esquire of dames? Was there not work enough in the camp yonder, that you must be testing your fancy graces every time a boat lands?"

There was no mild look in De Artigny's eyes as he fronted him, yet he held his temper, recalling my plea no doubt, and I hastened to step between, and furnish him excuse for silence.

"Surely you do wrong to blame the young man, Monsieur, as but for his aid I would have slipped yonder. There is no cause for hard words, nor do I thank you for making me a subject of quarrel. Is it my tent they erect yonder?"

"Ay," there was little graciousness to the tone, for the man had the nature of a bully. "'Twas my thought that it be brought for your use; and if Monsieur de Artigny will consent to stand aside, it will give me pleasure to escort you thither."

The younger man's eyes glanced from the other's face into mine, as though seeking reassurance. His hat was instantly in his hand, and he stepped backward, bowing low.

"The wish of the lady is sufficient," he said quietly, and then stood again erect, facing Cassion. "Yet," he added slowly, "I would remind Monsieur that while I serve him as a guide, it is as a volunteer, and I am also an officer of France."

"Of France? Pah! of the renegade La Salle."

"France has no more loyal servant, Monsieur Cassion in all this western land—nor is he renegade, for he holds the Illinois at the King's command."

"Held it—yes; under Frontenac, but not now."

"We will not quarrel over words, yet not even in Quebec was it claimed that higher authority than La Barre's had led to recall. Louis had never interfered, and it is De Tonty, and not De Baugis who is in command at St. Louis by royal order. My right to respect of rank is clearer than your own, Monsieur, so I beg you curb your temper."

"You threaten me?"

"No; we who live in the wilderness do not talk, we act. I obey your orders, do your will, on this expedition, but as a man, not a slave. In all else we stand equal, and I accept insult from no living man. 'Tis well that you know this, Monsieur."

The hat was back upon his head, and he had turned away before Cassion found answering speech. It was a jaunty, careless figure, disappearing amid the trees, the very swing of his shoulders a challenge, nor did he so much as glance about to mark the effect of his insolent words. For the instant I believed Cassion's first thought was murder, for he gripped a pistol in his hand, and flung one foot forward, an oath sputtering between his lips. Yet the arrant coward in him conquered even that mad outburst of passion, and before I could grasp his arm in restraint, the impulse had passed, and he was staring after the slowly receding figure of De Artigny, his fingers nerveless.

"Mon Dieu—no! I'll show the pup who is the master," he muttered. "Let him disobey once, and I'll stretch his dainty form as I would an Indian cur."

"Monsieur," I said, drawing his attention to my presence. "'Tis of no interest to me your silly quarrel with Sieur de Artigny. I am weary with the boat journey, and would rest until food is served."

"But you heard the young cockerel! What he dared say to me?"

"Surely; and were his words true?"

"True! what mean you? That he would resist my authority?"

"That he held commission from the King, while your only authority was by word of the Governor? Was it not by Royal Orders that La Salle was relieved of command?"

Cassion's face exhibited embarrassment, yet he managed to laugh.

"A mere boast the boy made, yet with a grain of truth to bolster it. La Barre acted with authority, but there has not been time for his report to be passed upon by Louis. No doubt 'tis now upon the sea."

"And now for this reason to lay his cause before the King, the Sieur de la Salle, sailed for France."

"Yes, but too late; already confirmation of La Barre's act is en route to New France. The crowing cockerel yonder will lose his spurs. But come, 'tis useless to stand here discussing this affair. Let me show you how well your comfort has been attended to."

I walked beside him among the trees, and across the patch of grass to where the tent stood against a background of rock. The Indians and soldiers in separate groups were busied about their fires, and I could distinguish the chief, with Chevet, still beside the canoes, engaged in making them secure for the night. The evening shadows were thickening about us, and the gloom of the woods extended already across the river to the opposite shore.

De Artigny had disappeared, although I glanced about in search for him, as Cassion drew aside the tent flap, and peered within. He appeared pleased at the way in which his orders had been executed.

"'Tis very neat, indeed, Monsieur," I said pleasantly, glancing inside. "I owe you my thanks."

"'Twas brought for my own use," he confessed, encouraged by my graciousness, "for as you know, I had no previous warning that you were to be of our party. Please step within."

I did so, yet turned instantly to prevent his following me. Already I had determined on my course of action, and now the time had come for me to speak him clearly; yet now that I had definite purpose in view it was no part of my game to anger the man.

"Monsieur," I said soberly. "I must beg your mercy. I am but a girl, and alone. It is true I am your wife by law, but the change has come so suddenly that I am yet dazed. Surely you cannot wish to take advantage, or make claim upon me, until I can bid you welcome. I appeal to you as a gentleman."

He stared into my face, scarcely comprehending all my meaning.

"You would bar me without? You forbid me entrance?"

"Would you seek to enter against my wish?"

"But you are my wife; that you will not deny! What will be said, thought, if I seek rest elsewhere?"

"Monsieur, save for Hugo Chevet, none in this company know the story of that marriage, or why I am here. What I ask brings no stain upon you. 'Tis not that I so dislike you, Monsieur, but I am the daughter of Pierre la Chesnayne, and 'tis not in my blood to yield to force. It will be best to yield me respect and consideration."

"You threatened me yonder—before La Barre."

"I spoke wildly, in anger. That passion has passed—now I appeal to your manhood."

He glanced about, to assure himself we were alone.

"You are a sly wench," he said, laughing unpleasantly, "but it may be best that I give you your own way for this once. There is time enough in which to teach you my power. And so you shut the tent to me, fair lady, in spite of your pledge to Holy Church. Ah, well! there are nights a plenty between here and St. Ignace, and you will become lonely enough in the wilderness to welcome me. One kiss, and I leave you."

"No, Monsieur."

His eyes were ugly.

"You refuse that! Mon Dieu! Do you think I play? I will have the kiss—or more."

Furious as the man was I felt no fear of him, merely an intense disgust that his hands should touch me, an indignation that he should offer me such insult. He must have read all this in my eyes, for he made but the one move, and I flung his hand aside as easily as though it had been that of a child. I was angry, so that my lips trembled, and my face grew white, yet it was not the anger that stormed.

"Enough, Monsieur—go!" I said, and pointed to where the fires reddened the darkness. "Do not dare speak to me again this night."

An instant he hesitated, trying to muster courage, but the bully in him failed, and with an oath, he turned away, and vanished. It was nearly dark then, and I sat down on a blanket at the entrance, and waited, watching the figures between me and the river. I did not think he would come again, but I did not know; it would be safer if I could have word with Chevet. A soldier brought me food, and when he returned for the tins I made him promise to seek my uncle, and send him to me.



CHAPTER IX

THE FLAMES OF JEALOUSY

My only faith in Hugo Chevet rested in his natural resentment of Cassion's treachery relative to my father's fortune. He would feel that he had been cheated, deceived, deprived of his rightful share of the spoils.

The man cared nothing for me, as had already been plainly demonstrated, yet, but for this conspiracy of La Barre and his Commissaire, it would have been his privilege to have handled whatever property Pierre la Chesnayne left at time of his death. He would have been the legal guardian of an heiress, instead of the provider for an unwelcomed child of poverty.

He had been tricked into marrying me to Cassion, feeling that he had thus rid himself of an incumbrance, and at the same time gained a friend and ally at court, and now discovered that by that act he had alienated himself from all chance of ever controlling my inheritance. The knowledge that he had thus been outwitted would rankle in the man's brain, and he was one to seek revenge. It was actuated by this thought that I had sent for him, feeling that perhaps at last we had a common cause.

Whether, or not, Cassion would take my dismissal as final I could not feel assured. No doubt he would believe my decision the outburst of a woman's mood, which he had best honor, but in full faith that a few days would bring to me a change of mind. The man was too pronounced an egotist to ever confess that he could fail in winning the heart of any girl whom he condescended to honor, and the very injury which my repulse had given to his pride would tend to increase his desire to possess me.

However little he had cared before in reality, now his interest would be aroused, and I would seem to him worthy of conquest. He would never stop after what had occurred between us until he had exhausted every power he possessed. Yet I saw nothing more of him that night, although I sat just within the flap of the tent watching the camp between me and the river. Shadowing figures glided about, revealed dimly by the fires, but none of these did I recognize as the Commissaire, nor did I hear his voice.

I had been alone for an hour, already convinced that the soldier had failed to deliver my message, when my Uncle Chevet finally emerged from the shadows, and announced his presence. He appeared a huge, shapeless figure, his very massiveness yielding me a feeling of protection, and I arose, and joined him. His greeting proved the unhappiness of his mind.

"So you sent for me—why? What has happened between you and Cassion?"

"No more than occurred between us yonder in Quebec, when I informed him that I was his wife in name only," I answered quietly. "Do you blame me now that you understand his purpose in this marriage?"

"But I don't understand. You have but aroused my suspicion. Tell me all, and if the man is a villain he shall make answer to me."

"Ay, if you imagine you have been outplayed in the game, although it is little enough you would care otherwise. Let there be no misunderstanding between us, Monsieur. You sold me to Francois Cassion because you expected to profit through his influence with La Barre. Now you learn otherwise, and the discovery has angered you. For the time being you are on my side—but for how long?"

He stared at me, his slow wits scarcely translating my words. Seemingly the man had but one idea in his thick head.

"How know you the truth of all you have said?" he asked. "Where learned you of this wealth?"

"By overhearing conversation while hidden behind the curtain in La Barre's office. He spoke freely with his aide, and later with Cassion. It was my discovery there which led to the forced marriage, and our being sent with this expedition."

"You heard alone?"

"So they thought, and naturally believed marriage would prevent my ever bearing witness against them. But I was not alone."

"Mon Dieu! Another heard?"

"Yes, the Sieur de Artigny."

Chevet grasped my arm, and in the glare of the fire I could see his excitement pictured in his face.

"Who? That lad? You were in hiding there together? And did he realize what was said?"

"That I do not know," I answered, "for we have exchanged no word since. When my presence was discovered, De Artigny escaped unseen through the open window. I need to meet him again that these matters may be explained, and that I may learn just what he overheard. It was to enlist your aid that I sent for you."

"To bring the lad here?"

"No; that could not be done without arousing the suspicion of Cassion. The two are already on the verge of quarrel. You must find some way of drawing the Commissaire aside—not tonight, for there is plenty of time before us, and I am sure we are being watched now—and that will afford me opportunity."

"But why may I not speak him?"

"You!" I laughed. "He would be likely to talk with you. A sweet message you sent him in Quebec."

"I was drunk, and Cassion asked it of me."

"I thought as much; the coward makes you pull his chestnuts from the fire. Do you give me the pledge?"

"Ay! although 'tis not my way to play sweet, when I should enjoy to wring the fellow's neck. What was it La Barre said?"

I hesitated a moment, doubting how much I had better tell, yet decided it would be best to intrust him with the facts, and some knowledge of what I proposed to do.

"That just before he died my father's property was restored to him by the King, but the Royal order was never recorded. It exists, but where I do not know, nor do I know as yet for what purpose it was concealed. My marriage to Cassion must have been an afterthought, for he is but a creature of La Barre's. It is through him the greater villains seek control; but, no doubt, he was a willing tool enough, and expects his share."

"Why not let me choke the truth out of him then? Bah! it would be easy."

"For two reasons," I said earnestly. "First, I doubt if he knows the true conspiracy, or can lay hands on the King's restoration. Without that we have no proof of fraud. And second, coward though he may be, his very fear might yield him courage. No, Uncle Chevet, we must wait, and learn these facts through other means than force. 'Tis back in Quebec, not in this wilderness, we will find the needed proofs. What I ask of you is, pretend to know nothing; do not permit Cassion to suspicion that I have confided in you. We must encourage him to talk by saying nothing which will put him on guard."

"But he is already aware that you have learned the truth."

"Of that I am not certain. It was the conversation between La Barre and Colonel Delguard which gave me the real cue. Of this Cassion may not have heard, as he entered the room later. I intended to proceed on that theory, and win his confidence, if possible. There is a long, tiresome journey before us, and much may be accomplished before we return."

Chevet stood silent, his slow mind struggling with the possibilities of my plan. I could realize the amazement with which he comprehended this cool proposition. He, who had considered me a thoughtless girl, incapable of serious planning, was suddenly forced to realize that a woman confronted him, with a will and mind of her own. It was almost a miracle, and he failed to entirely grasp the change which had occurred in my character. He stared at me with dull eyes, like those of an ox, his lips parted as he sought expression.

"You—you will try, as his wife, to win confession?" he asked finally, grasping vaguely the one thought occurring to him.

"No; there is a better way. I despise the man; I cannot bear that he touch me. More than that, if I read him aright, once I yield and confess myself his property, he will lose all interest in my possession. He is a lady killer; 'tis his boast. The man has never been in love with me; it was not love, but a desire to possess my fortune, which led to his proposal of marriage. Now I shall make him love me."

"You! Mon Dieu! how?"

"By refusing him, tantalizing him, arousing a desire which I will not gratify. Already his thought of me has changed. Last night in Quebec he was surprised, and aroused to new interest in me as a woman. He considered me before as a helpless girl, with no will, no character—the sort with which he had had his way all through life. He thought I would fall in his arms, and confess him master. The words I spoke to La Barre shocked and startled him out of his self complacency. Nor was that all—even before then he had begun to suspicion my relations with Sieur de Artigny.

"It was at his suggestion, you say, that you sent that young man your message of warning to keep away from me. Good! the poison is already working, and I mean it shall. Two hours ago, when we landed here, the two men were on verge of quarrel, and blows would have been struck but that I intervened. He is finding me not so easy to control, and later still the mighty Commissaire met with a rebuff which rankles."

I laughed at the remembrance, satisfied now as I placed the situation in words, that my plans were working well. Chevet stood silent, his mouth agape, struggling to follow my swift speech.

"Do you see now what I mean to do?" I asked gravely. "We shall be alone in the wilderness for months to come. I will be the one woman; perchance the only white woman into whose face he will look until we return to Quebec. I am not vain, yet I am not altogether ill to look upon, nor shall I permit the hardships of this journey to affect my attractiveness. I shall fight him with his own weapons, and win. He will beg, and threaten me, and I shall laugh. He will love me, and I shall mock. There will be jealousy between him and De Artigny, and to win my favor he will confess all that he knows. Tonight he sulks somewhere yonder, already beginning to doubt his power to control me."

"You have quarreled?"

"No—only that I asserted independence. He would have entered this tent as my husband, and I forbade his doing so. He stormed and threatened, but dare not venture further. He knows me now as other than a weak girl, but my next lesson must be a more severe one. 'Tis partly to prepare that I sent for you; I ask the loan of a pistol—the smaller one, to be concealed in my dress."

"You would kill the man?"

"Pooh! small danger of that. You may draw the charge if you will. For him to know that I possess the weapon will protect me. You do not grasp my plan?"

He shook his head gloomily, as though it was all a deep puzzle to his mind, yet his great hand held forth the pistol, the short barrel of which gleamed wickedly in the fire glow, as I thrust it out of sight.

"'Tis not the way I front enemies," he growled stubbornly, "and I make little of it. Mon Dieu! I make them talk with these hands."

"But my weapons are those of a woman," I explained, "and I will learn more than you would with your brute strength. All I ask of you now, Uncle Chevet, is that you keep on friendly terms with Monsieur Cassion, yet repeat nothing to him of what I have said, and gain me opportunity for speech alone with Sieur de Artigny."

"Ah! perhaps I perceive—you love the young man?"

I grasped his sleeve in my fingers, determined to make this point at least clear to his understanding. His blunt words had set my pulses throbbing, yet it was resentment, indignation, I felt in strongest measure.

"Mother of God, no! I have spoken with him but three times since we were children. He is merely a friend to be trusted, and he must be made to know my purpose. It will be joy to him to thus affront Cassion, for there is no love lost between them. You understand now?"

He growled something indistinctly in his beard, which I interpreted as assent, but I watched his great form disappear in the direction of the fire, my own mind far from satisfied; the man was so lacking in brains as to be a poor ally, and so obstinate of nature as to make it doubtful if he would long conform to my leadership. Still it was surely better to confide in him to the extent I had than permit him to rage about blindly, and in open hostility to Cassion.

I seated myself just within the tent, my eyes on the scene as revealed in the fire-glow, and reflected again over the details of my hastily born plan. The possibility of the Commissaire's return did not greatly trouble me, my confidence fortified by the pistol concealed in my waist. No doubt he was already asleep yonder in the shadows, but this night was only the beginning. The opposition he had met would prove a spur to endeavor, and the desire to win me a stronger incentive than ever. He may have been indifferent, careless before—deeming me easy prey—but from now on I meant to lead him a merry chase.

I cannot recall any feeling of regret, any conception of evil, as my mind settled upon this course of action. There was no reason why I should spare him. He had deliberately lied, and deceived me. His marriage to me was an act of treachery; the only intent to rob me of my just inheritance. There seemed to me no other way left in which I could hope to overcome his power. I was a woman, and must fight with the weapons of my sex; mine was the strength of the weak.

How dark and still it was, for the fires had died down into beds of red ash, and only the stars glimmered along the surface of the river. The only movement I could perceive was the dim outline of a man's figure moving about near the canoes—a watchman on guard, but whether red or white I could not determine. It was already late, well into the night, and the forest about us was black and still. Slowly my head sank to the blanket, and I slept.



CHAPTER X

WE ATTAIN THE OTTAWA

It was not yet dawn when the stir in the camp aroused me, and the sun had not risen above the bluffs, or begun to tinge the river, when our laden canoes left the bank and commenced their day's journey up stream. De Artigny was off in advance, departing indeed before I had left the tent, the chief seated beside him. I caught but a glimpse of them as the canoe rounded the bend in the bank, and slipped silently away through the lingering shadows, yet it gladdened me to know his eyes were turned toward my tent until they vanished.

Cassion approached me with excessive politeness, waiting until the last moment, and escorting me to the shore. It made me smile to observe his pretense at gallantry, yet I accepted his assistance down the bank with all possible graciousness, speaking to him so pleasantly as to bring a look of surprise to his face. 'Twas plain to be seen that my conduct puzzled him, for although he sought to appear at ease, his words faltered sadly. He, who had so long considered himself as past master of the art of love-making had most unexpectedly encountered a character which he could not comprehend.

However, that his purpose was in no way changed was made evident as we took our places in the canoes. A new distribution had been arranged, Chevet accompanying the sergeant, leaving the Commissaire and me alone, except for the pere, who had position in the bow. I observed this new arrangement from underneath lowered lashes, but without comment, quietly taking the place assigned me, and shading my face from the first rays of the sun.

The day which followed was but one of many we were destined to pass in the canoes. I have small recollection of it, except the weariness of my cramped position, and Cassion's efforts to entertain. Our course kept us close to the north shore, the high banks cutting off all view in that direction, while in the other there was nothing to see but an expanse of water.

Except for a single canoe, laden with furs, and propelled by Indian paddlers, bound for Quebec and a market, we encountered no travelers. These swept past us swiftly in grip of the current, gesticulating, and exchanging salutations, and were soon out of sight. Our own boats scattered, as no danger held us together, and there were hours when we failed to have even a glimpse of their presence.

At noon we landed in a sheltered cove, brilliant with wild flowers, and partook of food, the rearward canoes joining us, but De Artigny was still ahead, perhaps under orders to keep away. To escape Cassion, I clambered up the front of the cliff, and had view from the summit, marking the sweep of the river for many a league, a scene of wild beauty never to be forgotten. I lingered there at the edge until the voice of the Commissaire recalled me to my place in the canoe.

It is of no consequence now what we conversed about during that long afternoon, as we pushed steadily on against the current. Cassion endeavored to be entertaining and I made every effort to encourage him, although my secret thoughts were not pleasant ones. Where was all this to lead? Where was to be the end? There was an expression in the man's face, a glow in his eyes, which troubled me. Already some instinct told me that his carelessness was a thing of the past. He was in earnest now, his vague desire stimulated by my antagonism.

He had set out to overcome my scruples, to conquer my will, and was merely biding his time, seeking to learn the best point of attack. It was with this end in view that he kept me to himself, banishing Chevet, and compelling De Artigny to remain well in advance. He was testing me now by his tales of Quebec, his boasting of friendship with the Governor, his stories of army adventure, and the wealth he expected to amass through his official connections. Yet the very tone he assumed, the conceit shown in his narratives, only served to add to my dislike. This creature was my husband, yet I shrank from him, and once, when he dared to touch my hand, I drew it away as though it were contamination. It was then that hot anger leaped into his eyes, and his true nature found expression before he could restrain the words:

"Mon Dieu! What do you mean, you chit?"

"Only that I am not won by a few soft words, Monsieur," I answered coldly.

"But you are my wife; 'twill be well for you to remember that."

"Nor am I likely to forget, yet because a priest has mumbled words over us does not make me love you."

"Sacre!" he burst forth, yet careful to keep his voice pitched to my ears alone, "you think me a plaything, but you shall learn yet that I have claws. Bah! do you imagine I fear the coxcomb ahead?"

"To whom do you refer, Monsieur?"

"Such innocence! to that boot-licker of La Salle's to whom you give your smiles, and pretty words."

"Rene de Artigny!" I exclaimed pleasantly, and then laughed. "Why how ridiculous you are, Monsieur. Better be jealous of Pere Allouez yonder, for of him I see far the most. Why do you pick out De Artigny on whom to vent your anger?"

"I like not the way he eyes you, nor your secret meetings with him in Quebec."

"If he even sees me I know it not, and as for secret meetings, knew you not that Sister Celeste was with me while we talked."

"Not in the Governor's palace."

"You accuse me of that then," indignantly. "Because I am your wife, you can insult, yet it was your hand that drew aside the curtain, and found me alone. Do you hope to gain my respect by such base charges as that, Monsieur?"

"Do you deny that he had been with you?"

"I? Do I deny! It is not worthy my while. Why should I? We were not married then, nor like to be to my knowledge. Why, then, if I wished, was it not my privilege to speak with the Sieur de Artigny? I have found him a very pleasant, and polite young man."

"A pauper, his only fortune the sword at his side."

"Ah, I knew not even that he possessed one. Yet of what interest can all this be to me, Monsieur, now that I am married to you?"

That my words brought him no comfort was plain enough to be seen, yet I doubt if it ever occurred to his mind that I simply made sport, and sought to anger him. It was on his mind to say more, yet he choked the words back, and sat there in moody silence, scarce glancing at me again during the long afternoon. But when we finally made landing for the night, it was plain to be seen that his vigilance was in no wise relaxed, for, although he avoided me himself, the watchful Jesuit was ever at my side, no doubt in obedience to his orders. This second camp, as I recall, was on the shore of Lake St. Peter, in a noble grove, the broad stretch of waters before us silvered by the sinking sun. My tent was pitched on a high knoll, and the scene outspread beneath was one of marvelous beauty. Even the austere pere was moved to admiration, as he pointed here and there, and conversed with me in his soft voice. Cassion kept to the men along the bank below, while Chevet lay motionless beside a fire, smoking steadily.

I had no glimpse of De Artigny, although my eyes sought him among the others. The chief, Altudah, glided out from among the trees as it grew dusk, made some report, and as quickly disappeared again, leaving me to believe the advance party had made camp beyond the curve of the shore. The priest lingered, and we had our meal together, although it was not altogether to my liking. Once he endeavored to talk with me on the sacredness of marriage, the duty of a wife's obedience to her husband, the stock phrases rolling glibly from his tongue, but my answers gave him small comfort. That he had been so instructed by Cassion was in my mind, and he was sufficiently adroit to avoid antagonizing me by pressing the matter. As we were eating, a party of fur traders, bound east, came ashore in a small fleet of canoes, and joined the men below, building their fires slightly up stream. At last Pere Allouez left me alone, and descended to them, eager to learn the news from Montreal. Yet, although seemingly I was now left alone, I had no thought of adventuring in the darkness, as I felt convinced the watchful priest would never have deserted my side had he not known that other eyes were keeping vigil.

From that moment I never felt myself alone or unobserved. Cassion in person did not make himself obnoxious, except that I was always seated beside him in the boat, subject to his conversation, and attentions. Ever I had the feeling the man was testing me, and venturing how far he dared to go. Not for a moment did I dare to lower my guard in his presence, and this constant strain of watchfulness left me nervous, and bitter of speech.

In every respect I was a prisoner, and made to realize my helplessness. I know not what Cassion suspected, what scraps of information he may have gained from Chevet, but he watched me like a hawk. Never, I am sure, was I free of surveillance—in the boat under his own eye; ashore accompanied everywhere by Pere Allouez, except as I slept, and then even some unknown sentry kept watch of the tent in which I rested. However it was managed I know not, but my uncle never approached me alone, and only twice did I gain glimpse of Sieur de Artigny—once, when his canoe returned to warn us of dangerous water ahead, and once when he awaited us beside the landing at Montreal. Yet even these occasions yielded me new courage, for, as our eyes met I knew he was still my friend, waiting, as I was, the opportunity for a better understanding. This knowledge brought tears of gratitude to my eyes, and a thrill of hope to my heart. I was no longer utterly alone.

We were three days at Montreal, the men busily engaged in adding to their store of provisions. I had scarcely a glimpse of the town, as I was given lodging in the convent close to the river bank, and the pere was my constant companion during hours of daylight. I doubt if he enjoyed the task any more than I, but he proved faithful to his master, and I could never venture to move without his black robe at my side.

Nor did I seek to avoid him, for my mind grasped the fact already that my only hope of final liberty lay in causing Cassion to believe I had quietly yielded to fate. Surely as we plunged deeper into the wilderness his suspicions would vanish, and his grim surveillance relax. I must patiently abide my time. So I sat with the sisters within the dull, gray walls, seemingly unconscious of the pere's eyes stealthily watching my every motion, as he pretended other employment.

Cassion came twice, more to assure himself that I was safely held than for any other purpose, yet it pleased me to see his eyes follow my movements, and to realize the man had deeper interest in me than formerly. Chevet, no doubt, spent his time in the wine shops; at least I never either saw, or heard of him. Indeed I asked nothing as to his whereabouts, as I had decided already his assistance would be of no value.

We departed at dawn, and the sun was scarce an hour high when the prows of our canoes turned into the Ottawa. Now we were indeed in the wilderness, fronting the vast unknown country of the West, with every league of travel leaving behind all trace of civilization. There was nothing before us save a few scattered missions, presided over by ragged priests, and an occasional fur trader's station, the headquarters of wandering couriers du bois. On every side were the vast prairies, and stormy lakes, roamed over by savage men and beasts through whom we must make our way in hardship, danger, and toil.

Cassion spread out his rude map in the bottom of the canoe, and I had him point out the route we were to follow. It was a long, weary way he indicated, and, for the moment, my heart almost failed me, as we traced together the distance outlined, and pictured in imagination the many obstacles between us and our goal. Had I known the truth, all those leagues were destined to disclose of hardship and peril, I doubt my courage to have fronted them. But I did not know, nor could I perceive a way of escape. So I crushed back the tears dimming my eyes, smiled into his face, as he rolled up the map, and pretended to care not at all.

When night came we were in the black woods, the silence about us almost unearthly, broken only by the dash of water over the rocks below where we were camped, promising a difficult portage on the morrow. Alone, oppressed by the silence, feeling my helplessness as perhaps I never had before, and the dread loneliness of the vast wilderness in which I lay, I tossed on my bed for hours, ere sheer exhaustion conquered, and I slept.



CHAPTER XI

I GAIN SPEECH WITH DE ARTIGNY

Our progress up the Ottawa was so slow, so toilsome, the days such a routine of labor and hardship, the scenes along the shore so similar, that I lost all conception of time. Except for the Jesuit I had scarcely a companion, and there were days, I am sure, when we did not so much as exchange a word.

The men had no rest from labor, even Cassion changing from boat to boat as necessity arose, urging them to renewed efforts. The water was low, the rapids more than usually dangerous, so that we were compelled to portage more often than usual. Once the leading canoe ventured to shoot a rapid not considered perilous, and had a great hole torn in its prow by a sharp rock. The men got ashore, saving the wreck, but lost their store of provisions, and we were a day there making the damaged canoe again serviceable.

This delay gave me my only glimpse of De Artigny, still dripping from his involuntary bath, and so busily engaged at repairs, as to be scarcely conscious of my presence on the bank above him. Yet I can hardly say that, for once he glanced up, and our eyes met, and possibly he would have joined me, but for the sudden appearance of Cassion, who swore at the delay, and ordered me back to where the tent had been hastily erected. I noticed De Artigny straighten up, angered that Cassion dared speak to me so harshly, but I had no wish then to precipitate an open quarrel between the two men, and so departed quickly. Later, Father Allouez told me that in the overturning of the canoe the young Sieur had saved the life of the Algonquin Chief, bringing him ashore unconscious, helpless from a broken shoulder.

This accident to Altudah led to the transferring of the injured Indian to our canoe, and caused Cassion to join De Artigny in advance. This change relieved me of the constant presence of the Commissaire, who wearied me with his ceaseless efforts to entertain, but rendered more difficult than ever my desire to speak privately with the younger man. The pere evidently had commands to keep me ever in view, for he clung to me like a shadow, and scarcely for a moment did I feel myself alone, or unwatched.

It was five days later, and in the heart of all that was desolate and drear, when this long sought opportunity came in most unexpected fashion. We had made camp early, because of rough water ahead, the passage of which it was not deemed best to attempt without careful exploration. So, while the three heavily laden canoes drew up against the bank, and prepared to spend the night, the leading canoe was stripped, and sent forward, manned only with the most expert of the Indian paddlers to make sure the perils of the current. From the low bank to which I had climbed I watched the preparations for the dash through those madly churning waters above. Cassion was issuing his orders loudly, but exhibited no inclination to accompany the party, and suddenly the frail craft shot out from the shore, with De Artigny at the steering paddle, and every Indian braced for his task, and headed boldly into the smother. They vanished as though swallowed by the mist, Cassion, and a half dozen soldiers racing along the shore line in an effort to keep abreast of the laboring craft.

It was a wild, desolate spot in which we were, a mere rift in the bluffs, which seemed to overhang us, covered with a heavy growth of forest. The sun was still an hour high, although it was twilight already beside the river, when Cassion, and his men came straggling back, to report that the canoe had made safe passage, and, taking advantage of his good humor, I proposed a climb up an opening of the bluff, down which led a deer trail plainly discernible.

"Not I," he said, casting a glance upward. "The run over the rocks will do me for exercise tonight."

"Then will I assay it alone," I replied, not displeased at his refusal. "I am cramped from sitting in the canoe so long."

"'Twill be a hard climb, and they tell me the pere has strained a tendon of his leg coming ashore."

"And what of that!" I burst forth, giving vent to my indignation. "Am I a ten-year-old to be guarded every step I take? 'Tis not far to the summit, and no danger. You can see yourself the trail is not steep. Faith! I will go now, just to show that I am at liberty."

He laughed, an unpleasant sound to it, yet made no effort to halt me. 'Tis probable he felt safe enough with De Artigny camped above the rapids, and he had learned already that my temper might become dangerous. Yet he stood and watched while I was half-way up before turning away, satisfied no doubt that I would make it safely. It was like a draught of wine to me to be alone again; I cannot describe the sense of freedom, and relief I felt when a spur of the cliff shut out all view of the scene below.

The rude path I followed was narrow, but not steep enough to prove wearisome, and, as it led up through a crevice in the earth, finally emerged at the top of the bluff at a considerable distance above the camp I had left. Thick woods covered the crest, although there were open plains beyond, and I was obliged to advance to the very edge in order to gain glimpse of the river.

Once there, however, with footing secure on a flat rock, the scene outspread was one of wild and fascinating beauty. Directly below me were the rapids, rock strewn, the white spray leaping high in air, the swift, green water swirling past in tremendous volume. It scarcely seemed as though boats could live in that smother, or find passage between those jutting rocks, yet as I gazed more closely, I could trace the channel close in against the opposite shore, and note where the swift current bore back across the river.

Leaning far out, grasping a branch to keep from falling, I distinguished the canoe at the upper landing, and the Indians busily preparing camp. At first I saw nothing of any white man, but was gazing still when De Artigny emerged from some shadow, and stepped down beside the boat. I know not what instinct prompted him to turn and look up intently at the bluff towering above. I scarcely comprehended either what swift impulse led me to undo the neckerchief at my throat, and hold it forth in signal. An instant he stared upward, shading his eyes with one hand.

I must have seemed a vision clinging there against the sky, yet all at once the truth burst upon him, and, with a wave of the arm, he sprang up the low bank, and joined his Indians. I could not hear what he said, but with a single word he left them, and disappeared among the trees at the foot of the bluff.

I drew back, almost frightened, half inclined to flee before he could attain the summit. What could I say? How could I meet him? What if Cassion had followed me up the path, or had despatched one of his men to spy upon my movements? Ever since leaving Quebec my one hope had been this interview with De Artigny, yet now that it was imminent I shrank from it, in actual confusion, my heart fluttering, my mind blank, yet I was not a coward, and did not run, but waited, feeling my limbs tremble under me, and listening for the first sound of his approach.

He must have scrambled straight up the steep face of the bluff, for it could have been scarcely more than a minute, when I heard him crunching a passage through the bushes, and then saw him emerge above the edge. Clinging to a tree limb, his eyes sought eagerly to locate me, and when I stepped forward, he sprang erect, and bowed, jerking his hat from his head. There was about his action the enthusiasm of a boy, and his face glowed with an eagerness and delight which instantly broke down every barrier between us.

"You waved to me?" he exclaimed. "You wished me to come?"

"Yes," I confessed, swept from my guard by his enthusiasm. "I have been anxious to confer with you, and this is my first opportunity."

"Why I thought you avoided me," he burst forth. "It is because I felt so that I have kept away."

"There was nothing else I could do but pretend," I exclaimed, gaining control over my voice as I spoke. "My every movement has been watched since we left Quebec; this is the first moment I have been left alone—if, indeed, I am now." And I glanced about doubtfully into the shadows of the forest.

"You imagine you may have been followed here? By whom? Cassion?"

"By himself, or some emissary. Pere Allouez has been my jailor, but chances to be disabled at present. The Commissaire permitted me to climb here alone, believing you to be safely camped above the rapids, yet his suspicions may easily revive."

"His suspicions!" the Sieur laughed softly. "So that then is the trouble? It is to keep us apart that he bids me make separate camp each night; and assigns me to every post of peril. I feel the honor, Mademoiselle, yet why am I especially singled out for so great a distinction?"

"He suspects us of being friends. He knew I conferred with you at the convent, and even believes that you were with me hidden behind the curtain in the Governor's office."

"Yet if all that be true," he questioned, his voice evidencing his surprise. "Why should our friendship arouse his antagonism to such an extent? I cannot understand what crime I have committed, Mademoiselle. It is all mystery, even why you should be here with us on this long journey? Surely you had no such thought when we parted last?"

"You do not know what has occurred?" I asked, in astonishment. "No one has told you?"

"Told me! How? I have scarcely held speech with anyone but the Algonquin chief since we took to the water. Cassion has but given orders, and Chevet is mum as an oyster. I endeavored to find you in Montreal, but you were safely locked behind gray walls. That something was wrong I felt convinced, yet what it might be no one would tell me. I tried questioning the pere, but he only shook his head, and left me unanswered. Tell me then, Mademoiselle, by what right does this Cassion hold you as a captive?"

My lips trembled, and my eyes fell, yet I must answer.

"He is my husband, Monsieur."

I caught glimpse of his face, picturing surprise, incredulity. He drew a sharp breath, and I noted his hand close tightly on the hilt of his knife.

"Your husband! that cur! Surely you do not jest?"

"Would that I did," I exclaimed, losing all control in sudden wave of anger. "No, Monsieur, it is true; but listen. I supposed you knew; that you had been told. It is hard for me to explain, yet I must make it all plain for you to understand. I do not love the man, his very presence maddens me, nor has the creature dared as yet to lay hand on my person. See; I carry this," and I drew the pistol from my dress, and held it in my hand. "Chevet loaned it me, and Cassion knows I would kill him if he ventured insult. Yet that serves me little, for my opposition only renders the man more determined. At Quebec I was but a plaything, but now he holds me worth the winning."

"But why did you marry him, then?"

"I am coming to that, Monsieur. You overheard what was said in La Barre's office about—about my father's property?"

"Ay! although it was not all clear to me. Captain la Chesnayne had lost his estates, confiscated by the Crown; yet before his death these had been restored to him by the King."

"Yes, but the report of the restoration had never been made to his rightful heirs. The papers had been held back and concealed, while those in authority planned how to retain possession. Cassion was chosen as an instrument, and sought my hand in marriage."

De Artigny smothered an oath, his eyes darkening with anger.

"It was to further this scheme that he induced Chevet to announce our engagement, and drive me to consent. Once my husband the fortune was securely in his hands—indeed, I need never know its existence; nor would Chevet suspicion the trick. Yet, as I see it now, La Barre had no great faith in the man he had chosen, and thought best to test him first by this journey to St. Louis. If he proved himself, then on his return, he was to have the reward of official position and wealth. I was but a pawn in the game, a plaything for their pleasure."

My voice broke, and I could scarcely see through the tears in my eyes, but I felt his strong hand close over mine, the warm pressure an unspoken pledge.

"The dogs! and then what happened?"

"You know, already. I was discovered behind the curtain, when you escaped through the open window. They were not certain I was not alone there, as I claimed, but compelled me to confess what I had overheard. La Barre was quick to grasp the danger of discovery, and the only method by which my lips could be closed. By threat he compelled me to marry Francois Cassion, and accompany him on this journey into the wilderness."

"The ceremony was performed by a priest?"

"By Pere le Guard, the Governor's chaplain."

"And Hugo Chevet, your uncle? Did he remain silent? make no protest?"

I gave a gesture of despair.

"He! Never did he even conceive what occurred, until I told him later on the river. Even now I doubt if his sluggish brain has grasped the truth. To him the alliance was an honor, an opening to possible wealth in the fur trade through Cassion's influence with La Barre. He could perceive nothing else except his good luck in thus ridding himself of the care of a poor niece who had been a sorry burden."

"But you explained to him?"

"I tried to, but only to regret the effort. Giant as he is physically, his intellect is that of a big boy. All he can conceive of is revenge—a desire to crush with his hands. He hates Cassion, because the man has robbed him of the use of my father's money; but for my position he cares nothing. To his mind the wrong has all been done to him, and I fear he will brood over it until he seeks revenge. If he does he will ruin everything."

De Artigny stood silent, evidently in thought, endeavoring to grasp the threads of my tale.

"How did you attain the summit of this bluff?" he questioned at last.

"Yonder; there is a deer trail leading down."

"And you fear Cassion may follow?"

"He will likely become suspicious if I am long absent, and either seek me himself, or send one of his men. This is the first moment of freedom I have experienced since we left Quebec. I hardly know how to behave myself."

"And we must guard it from being the last," he exclaimed, a note of determination, and leadership in his voice. "There are questions I must ask, so that we may work together in harmony, but Cassion can never be allowed to suspect that we have communication. Let us go forward to the end of the trail where you came up; from there we can keep watch below."

He still grasped my hand, and I had no thought of withdrawing it. To me he was a friend, loyal, trustworthy, the one alone to whom I could confide. Together we clambered over the rough rocks to where the narrow cleft led downward.



CHAPTER XII

ON THE SUMMIT OF THE BLUFF

Securely screened from observation by the low growing bushes clinging to the edge of the bluff, and yet with a clear view of the cleft in the rocks half way to the river, De Artigny found me a seat on a hummock of grass, but remained standing himself. The sun was sinking low, warning us that our time was short, for with the first coming of twilight I would certainly be sought, if I failed to return to the lower camp.

For a moment he did not break the silence, and I glanced up, wondering why he should hesitate. His face was grave, no longer appearing, as was its wont, young and careless, but marked by thought and perplexity. Something strong and earnest in the character of the man, brought forth by this emergency, seemed to stamp itself on his features. If I had ever before imagined him to be a mere reckless youth, with that moment such conception vanished, and I knew I was to rely on the experience of a man—a man trained in a rough wilderness school, yet with mind and heart fitted to meet any emergency. The knowledge brought me boldness.

"You would question me, Monsieur," I asked doubtfully. "It was for that you led me here?"

"Yes," instantly aroused by my voice, but with eyes still scanning the trail. "And there is no time to waste, if I am to do my part intelligently. You must return below before the sun disappears, or Monsieur Cassion might suspect you had lost your way. You have sought me for assistance, counsel perhaps, but this state of affairs has so taken me by surprise that I do not think clearly. You have a plan?"