CHAPTER XVI
A LOVER OF THE WILDERNESS
The weather was splendid, the sky cloudless, the air scented with theresinous fragrance of cedar, fir, and pine. They paused for a middaylunch and then kept on until dark. In a clearing in an almostimpenetrable forest they paused, built a fire, and prepared to camp.Savignon drew some young saplings together and filled up the intersticeswith boughs, ordering smaller ones inside that a sort of bed should beraised off the ground. One of the men had shot some squirrels, and theirbroiling over the coals was appetizing.
"You and Wanamee will be quite safe," the guide said. "We shall wrap inour blankets and sleep about the fire. If you hear the cry of wolves, donot be alarmed."
"How good you are," Rose returned, her eyes glorious with gratefulemotions. "M. Destournier will never forget your service. It cannot berewarded."
"Mam'selle, a man would give his life for your pleasure. Sleep well anddo not fear."
And sleep she did, with the slumber of youth and health. Naught came toalarm them.
Their second day's journey was uneventful, though it was not so clearand sunny, and again they camped for the night. Was there only one daymore? Rose's heart beat with alternate fear and joy. Indeed, they mightmeet the cavalcade on the way.
She would not admit fatigue, indeed she did not feel it. Her grand hopegave lightness to her step and color to her cheeks, which were like adelicious opening rose, and you were fain to declare they had the samefragrance. When she talked to Wanamee, Savignon did not listen for anygirlish secrets, but simply the music of her voice. That day some birdastray in the forest gave his whistle, perhaps to his mate, and sheanswered it with the most enchanting music. He came so near they couldhear the flutter of his wings. Cadotte started up with his gun.
"You shall not kill it!" she cried. "Do you think I would lure a bird tosuch a cruel, treacherous death!"
Her face was bewitching in its indignation. What spirit, what strengthof purpose shone in it!
"He will freeze before spring, Mam'selle," Cadotte returned sullenly.
"Then let him die as the good God intends."
"Mam'selle, I never heard a human voice so like a bird's," Savignondeclared, in a tone of admiration. "Do you know other voices that rangein Quebec?"
She laughed, her present anger vanishing.
"I used to tame them when I was a child. They would come at my call. Iloved them so. And a tame deer knew my voice and followed me."
"As anything would. Mam'selle, sing or whistle, and it will make oursteps lighter. Among the Bostonnais they march to music not as sweet asthine."
She was glad to give them pleasure.
The last day seemed long indeed, to her. Once they mistook the path andhad to pick their way back. Savignon's acute eyes told him another partyhad crossed it, and he went on warily.
Presently, in the coming darkness, two scouts ran on ahead.
"Art thou tired, Mam'selle?" asked the well-modulated voice that hadlost the guttural Indian tone.
"Not tired, but impatient. Do you suppose we have missed them? What ifthey should have started in some other direction?"
"I hardly think that. I have expected to meet them. M. Destournier musthave been more disabled than we supposed. But we shall soon know."
Oh, what if he were dead! A blackness fell over everything. She caughtWanamee's arm for support. It was growing so dark they kept closertogether. The dead leaves rustled under their feet, now and then in anopening they saw the sky in the soft, whitish-gray tints before it turnsto blue.
There was a shrill, prolonged whistle.
"They are coming back with news." Savignon guessed it was not cheering.He answered through his fingers.
The two scouts came hurrying forward.
"They are gone. They must have taken some other road. The campfire isout, the stones are missing. What shall we do?"
Rose gave a soft, appealing cry, that she vainly strove to restrain.
"We had better go on. We must stop for the night. It is too dark to findtheir trail."
It seemed to Rose as if she would sink to the ground with indescribableterror.
"Oh, do you think----" She caught Savignon's arm.
"They have started on and missed the trail," he replied, in an almostindifferent tone, but he guessed in his heart there had been somesurprise. "We must find the old place and camp for the night. To-morrowwe will seek out the trail."
"You do not think there can have been----" Her voice faltered for veryfear.
"We had best think nothing. We should no doubt come wide of the mark.Let us push on," to the men.
There were heavy hearts and slow steps. It seemed as if it must bemidnight when they reached the clearing, though it was not that late.They built their fire. Cadotte and Savignon took a survey.
"Another party has been here," Cadotte exclaimed, in a whisper. "Therehas been a struggle. They are carried off somewhere."
"Do not speak of it to-night. The women are tired. And Mam'selle willhave a thousand fears."
They found the others busy with fire and supper. Rose sat apart, herface buried in her hands, a thousand wild fears chasing one anotherthrough her mind. Life would be dreary if--if what? If he were dead? Hadhe suffered long with no one to cheer? Or had he been suddenlydespatched by some marauding party? Then they would find his poor body.Yes, to-morrow they would know all.
She did not want any supper and crept to bed, weeping out her fears inWanamee's arms.
They were all astir the next morning at daybreak. It was a littlecloudy. The three days had been unusually fine. Savignon had beentracing this and that clew, and presently came upon a piece of wampum,with a curious Huron design at one end. And a little further on he founda trail where things had been roughly dragged. But he came to breakfastwith no explanation.
Did the Rose of Quebec care so much for this man? He had been like afather to her, perhaps it was only a child's love. But now M.Destournier was free to choose a new wife--if he were alive. He was abrave man, a fine man, but if he were dead! The Hurons would show scantpity to a disabled man. Savignon had done and would do his best, butsomehow he could not feel so bitterly grieved. He loved this woman--heknew that now.
They were discussing plans when a near-by step startled them. Partingthe undergrowth, a torn and dishevelled man appeared. It was Paul DeLoie. He almost dropped on the ground at their feet.
"I have run all night," he cried gaspingly. "The Hurons! They took usprisoners, and the stores. They are expecting another relay of thetribe, and are going up north for the winter, to join the Ottawas. Butfirst they are to have a carouse and dance," and the three prisoners areto be tortured and put to death. He had escaped. He supposed the partywould be back for M. Destournier and the stores. They must fly at once,and return if they would save their lives. And what madness possessedthem to bring women!
"Wait!" commanded Savignon. "Let us go apart, De Loie, and consider thematter," and taking the man by the arm, he raised him and walked him alittle distance.
"Now tell me--M. Destournier--how did he progress?"
"Well, indeed. We made him a crutch. We decided to take what stores wecould manage, and resume our journey, thinking we would be met by someof the party. _Ma foi_, if we had started a day earlier! There were notmany of them, but twice too many for us. There was nothing to do, wecould gain nothing by selling our lives, we thought, but now they willtake them. In two days the rest of the party, thirty or forty, will jointhem. We cannot rescue the others. Vauban could have escaped, but hewould not leave M. Destournier. And now retrace your steps at once."
Savignon buried his face in his hands, in deep thought. Should he try torescue these men? The Hurons were superstitious. More than once he hadplayed on Indian credulity. He held some curious secrets, he had thewampum belt that he could produce, as if by magic. He was fond, too, ofadventure, of power. And he imagined he saw a way to win the prize hecoveted. He was madly, wildly in love with Rose. She was heroic. If shewould grant his d
esire, the safety of three people would accrue from it.And surely she had not loved the Frenchman, who until a brief while agohad a wife. As he understood, they had been as parents to her. She wasyoung, but if a man could inspire her with love--with gratitude even----
He questioned De Loie very closely. The trouble with Destournier wouldbe his inability to travel rapidly. They would soon be overtaken. Escapethat way was not feasible.
"I will consider. Come and share our breakfast."
Rose was walking by herself, on the outskirts of the clearing, her slimhands clasped together, her head drooping, and even so her figure wouldhave attracted a sculptor. The Indian was enchanted with it. To clasp itin his arms--ah, the thought set his hot blood in a flame.
She turned and raised her eyes beseechingly, her beautiful, fathomlesseyes in whose depths a man easily lost himself, the curved sweetness ofthe mouth that one might drain and drain, and never quite have his fill.
"What is it, M'sieu? Is there any hope? Can nothing be done?" Her voicewent to his heart.
"What would you be willing to do, Mam'selle?"
"If I were a man I would attempt his rescue, or die with him. It wouldnot be so hard to die holding a friend's hand."
"You love him very much?"
The love Savignon meant had so little place in her thoughts that thequestion did not cause her to change color.
"He was so good to me when I was little, and ill for a long while. Heused to hold me on his knee, and let my head rest on his strong breast.And when I was well again we climbed rocks, and he showed me where thechoicest wild fruit grew. And we went out in the canoe. He taught me toread, he had books of strange, beautiful stories. And after he marriedmiladi he took me in his home as if I was a child. Ah, I could not helploving one so kind, unless I had been made of stone. And I wanted tocomfort him in his sorrow."
Her voice, in its pathos, the eyes luminous with tears that did notfall, swept through the man like a devouring flame. He must have her. Hewould risk all, he would test her very soul.
"You have not said what you would give."
"My life, M'sieu, if I could exchange it for his."
"It does not need that. Listen, Mam'selle: When I first looked upon you,I was swept away with a strange emotion. I had seen lovely girls, thereare some in our own race, with eyes of velvet, and lips that temptkisses. And I knew when I helped you get your way on this expedition,what it was; that I loved you, that I would have kissed the ground youhad walked on. And on our journey here I have dreamed beautiful,thrilling dreams of you. I slept at the door of your improvised tentlest some danger should come upon you unawares. Last night when I notedyour tired step I wanted to take you in my arms and carry you. You havefilled my soul and my body with the rapture of love. I can think ofnothing else but the bliss of straining you to my heart, of touchingyour lips with the fire that plays about mine, like the rosy lightningthat flashes through the heavens, engendered by the heat of the day. Oh,take me for your husband, and your life shall be filled with the best Ican give. You shall not weary your small hands with work, they shall bekept for a husband's kisses. I will worship you as the priests do theirVirgin."
She had been transfixed at the outburst and flaming, passionate tone,that in its vehemence seemed to grow finer, loftier. Was that love'swork?
"But it will not save M. Destournier," she wailed.
"Listen again." He stood up, manly and strong, and somehow touched herwith a subtle influence. It is not in a woman's nature to listen to atale of passionate love unmoved. "Once, among the Hurons an old witchwoman was wild to adopt me for her son. She gave me a great many secretcharms, many you white people would think the utmost foolishness. Somewere curious. And my people are superstitious. I have used them morethan once to the advantage of myself and others. I have brought aboutpeace between warring tribes. I have prevented war. I will go to theHurons, and try for M. Destournier's liberty. From what De Loie said,they mean to sacrifice the men to-morrow. There are horrid, agonizingtortures before death comes. If you will promise to marry me I will goat once and do my utmost to rescue him, them."
"And if you fail?" Her very breath seemed like a blast of winter cold.
"Then, Mam'selle, I can ask no reward, only a share in your sorrow. Iwill try to lighten their sufferings. That is all I can do."
She crossed her arms upon her breast and rocked herself to and fro.
"Oh, I cannot, I cannot," she said, with a cry of anguish. "Another man,our dear Madame de Champlain's brother asked this thing of me, and Icould not. I do not want to marry."
"All women do in their hearts," he said moodily.
Was she not quite a woman yet? Had she just the soul of the little girlwho had climbed trees, scaled rocks, and plunged headlong into theriver to swim like a fish!
"It is three lives," he said, with the persuasive voice of the tempter.
Three lives! And among them her best friend! Something rose in herthroat, and she thought she was dying.
"And if I cannot?" in a tone of desperate anguish.
"Then we must start homeward at once. When the Hurons have whet theirappetite with their hellish pleasure, it is not easily satisfied. Theywill look about for more fuel to add to the flames. So we must decide. Icannot risk my own liberty for months for nothing. It will not make M.Destournier's death pang easier."
"Oh, go away, go away!" she almost shrieked, but the sorrow in her voicetook off the harshness. "Let me think. I do not love you! I might runaway. I might drown myself. I might not be able to keep my promise."
"I should love you so much that you would not want to break it. Ah, Icould trust you, since you love no one else that you desire to marry."
She dropped on the ground and hid her face, too much stunned even tocry. "Three lives" kept singing in her ears. Was she not selfish andcruel? O God, what could she do!
"You know even the Sieur and the priests have approved of these mixedmarriages, so there would be no voice raised against it. The childrenwould belong to the Church and be reared in the ways of wisdom andhonor. In my way I am well born. I could take you to Paris, where youwould be well received. I have had some excellent training. Oh, it wouldbe no disgrace."
They were calling to him from the group. He turned away. His intenselove for her, his little understanding of a woman's soul, his passionatenature, not yet adjusted to the higher civilization, could notunderstand and appreciate the cruelty.
When he came back her small hands were nervously beating the dried turf.He could not see her face.
"They have decided to go at once," he exclaimed. "De Loie says there isno time to lose."
"I shall stay here and die," she said.
"That will not save any one's life."
Oh, that was the pity of it!
She rose with a strained white face. She looked like some of thebeautiful carvings he had seen abroad. Not even anguish could make herunlovely.
"If you will go," she began hoarsely, and she seemed to strain her verysoul to utter the words, "and bring back M. Destournier, and the others,I will marry you--not now, but months hence, when I can resolve upon thestep. I shall have to learn--no, you must not touch me, nor kiss me,until I give you leave."
"But you must let me take your hand once, and promise by the Holy Motherof God."
His seriousness overawed her. She rose and held out her slim, whitehand, from which the summer's brown had faded. Her lips shook as if withan ague, but she promised.
He wanted to kiss the hand, but he in turn was overawed.
She heard the voices raised in dissent around the fire. What if theywould not let him go? She was chill and cold, and almost did not care.She would stay here and die. Perhaps they could take the strange,awesome journey together.
Wanamee joined her. "Savignon has determined to go to the rescue of themen," she began, "but De Loie thinks it a crazy step. And we must stayand risk being made prisoners. What is the matter, _ma fille_? You areas white as the river foam in a storm."
"I am tir
ed," she made answer. "I slept poorly last night. Then theythink there is no chance of success?"
"Oh, no, no! And we ought to escape."
She dropped down again, pillowing her head on a little rise of ground.Should she be glad, or sorry? Either way she seemed stunned.
The sky cleared up presently, and the sun came out. The few men walkedabout disconsolately. The rations were apportioned, some went farther inthe woods, to find nuts, if possible. Now that the stores had been takenand two days added to the journey, want might be their portion.
Two of the men succeeded in finding some game. There was a small streamof water, but no fish were discernible in it. It froze over at night,but they could quench their thirst, and with some dried pennyroyal madea draught of tea.
Rose wondered if she had ever prayed before! All she could say now was:"Oh, Holy Mother of God, have pity on me."
The long night passed. De Loie said in the morning: "I think one of youhad better start with the women. If we should be beset with the savages,they might find their way home. Here are some points I have marked out."
"No," returned Rose, "let us all perish together."
"_Mon Dieu!_ Do you suppose they would let you perish? You would have tobe squaw to some brave."
Rose shuddered. No, she could but die.
De Loie started out on the path he had come. It was mid-afternoon. Alight snow began to fall, and the wind moaned in the trees. Rose andWanamee huddled together at the fire, their arms around each other,under the blanket. It was easy to love Wanamee. But then she had begunit as a child--Was it easy to love when one was grown?
The darkness was descending when they heard a shout. Was it friend orfoe? Another, and it came nearer. It was not the voice of an Indian.
De Loie rushed in upon them. "You men go and relieve those at thelitter. Savignon is a wizard. He has the three men. I could not believeit at first, and I am afraid now it is a trick. You cannot trust anIndian."
Rose drew a long breath. Then her fate was sealed. Or, if they wereattacked in the night, it would be some compensation to die together.
They came in at last, with Destournier on an improvised hemlock litter.The fire blazed up brightly, making a striking picture of the eagerfaces. The men lowered the litter to the ground, and they crowded aroundit. Destournier was ghostly pale, but full of thankfulness. When therewas a little space open he reached out his hand to Rose.
"You two women have been very brave, but you should not have taken thejourney. As for Savignon, we all owe him a debt that we can neverrepay."
"It is repaid already," returned the Indian, glancing over at Rose. "Tohave rescued you----"
"What arts and incantations you used! I could not have believed itpossible to move their stony hearts."
"It was not their hearts." Savignon gave a grim smile. "It was theirfears that were worked upon. I was afraid at one time that I would notsucceed. But I had a reward before me."
"Quebec will pay you all honor. It is a grand thing to have saved threelives from torture and death. For there was no other escape."
That night Destournier related the surprise and capture. The stores werea great loss. But they would not let him bemoan them.
"We must get back as rapidly as we can," he said. "I do not trust thetemper of the reinforcements, when they find they have been balked oftheir prey."
The snow had only been a light fall, and the trees in their higherbranches were marvels of beauty. It had not reached the ground in manyplaces.
After a frugal breakfast the cavalcade started. Destournier insistedupon walking at first, as he was freshened by his night's rest,comparatively free from anxiety. His broken leg was well bandaged, andhe used two crutches. Rose noticed the thinness and pallor, and thegeneral languid air, but she kept herself quite in the background.Savignon was really leader of the small party.
"Wanamee," she said, in a low tone, "will you tell M. Ralph aboutmiladi?--I thought to do it, but I cannot. And I am so sorry she left nomessage for him. He was always so good to her. And you can tell him Iheld her a long while in my arms that night."
"You were an angel to her, _ma fille_. I used to wonder sometimes----"
"I suppose it was being ill so long, and trying so hard to get well,that made her unreasonable. It is better to go out of life suddenly, doyou not think so?"
"I should like to know a little about the hereafter. You see our nationbelieve we go at once to another land, and do not stay in that miserableplace they tell of. But many of the braves believe there are no womenin the happy hunting grounds. One is swung this way and that," andWanamee sighed.
Rose's mind was torn and distracted by her promise. Now and then anawful shudder took her in a giant grasp, and she thought she would dropdown and ask them to leave her. Savignon would stay behind, if sheproposed that. What if he had not gone to the Hurons? Frightful storiesof torture she had heard rushed to her mind. Old Noko had witnessedthem. So had some of the men at the fort. Death itself was not so hard,but to have burning sticks thrust into one's skin, to have fingers andtoes cut off, piecemeal--oh, she had saved him from that. Yes, she wouldmarry Savignon, and then throw herself into the river, after she hadkept her promise.
The weather was growing colder. They halted for the night, and made afire. They had shot nothing, but the supper was very light, indeed.
"Little Rose," said Destournier, "come over beside me, since I cannotwell come to you. I have hardly seen you, and have not asked what hasgone on at the fort. I feel as if I had been away half a lifetime. Andmiladi----"
"Wanamee will tell you, I cannot." She drew away the hand he held, andgently pushed the Indian woman forward, going out of the clear sound ofher voice. Oh, would it be a great sorrow to him?
Wanamee's recital of that last night set a halo about Rose in the man'smind. He had known for years that he had not loved miladi as a man couldlove, but he also questioned whether such a light, frivolous naturecould have appreciated the strong, earnest affection. Her great effortto keep herself young had led to a meretricious childishness. She had avain, narrow soul, and this had dwarfed it still more. Many a night hehad watched over her, pained by her passionate beseeching that he wouldnot let her die, her awesome terror of death. He felt God had beenmerciful not to allow her to suffer that last rending pain. He hadreally become so accustomed to the thought of her dying that it did notseem new or strange to him, but one of the inevitable things that onemust endure with philosophy. He realized the sweetness and patience ofRose through these last months.
When Wanamee came back she was snugly tucked in her blanket, and feignedsleep. She did not want to talk. She fancied she would like to liebeside miladi in the little burying ground. Young sorrow always turns todeath as a comforter.
That night an adventure befell them, though most of them were sleepingfrom exhaustion. It was the Indian's quick hearing that caught asuspicious sound, and then heard a stealthy rustle. He reached for hisgun, and his eyes roved sharply around the little circle. The sound camefrom nearly opposite. The fire was low, but his sight was keen, andpresently he espied two glaring eyes drawing nearer Wanamee and hercharge. There was a quick shot, a shriek, almost human, and a rushfarther in the forest.
They were all awake in an instant. "An attack!" shouted two of the men.
"A wolf," rejoined Savignon. He took up a brand and peered about in thedarkness. The body was still twitching, but the head was a mangled mass.There were no others in sight, but they heard their cry growing fainterand fainter.
Rose sat up in affright. How near it had been to her. Was she always tobe in debt to this Indian?
"Go to sleep again," he said, in a low tone. "We shall have no morealarms to-night. I am keeping watch. I would give my life to save youfrom harm."
Wanamee drew the trembling, shrinking figure closer. Rose felt as if herheart would burst with the sorrow she could not confess.