CHAPTER II.--THE OUTLAWS.
The little battalion of Alphonse D'Erlach marched along the edge ofa wood which skirted a pleasantly rising ground--one of those gentleundulations which serve to relieve the monotonous levels of the lowerregions of Florida. Deep was the umbrage--dense in its depth of green,and dark in its voluminous foliage, the thicket which overlooked theirmarch. Their eyes might not penetrate the enclosure, from which eyes ofhate were yet looking forth upon them. The wood concealed the outlawswho had lately made their escape from La Caroline, after the exposureof their conspiracy. They had not ceased to be conspirators. Bold, badmen--sleepless discontents, yearning for plunder and power--the defeatof their schemes, and the necessity of their sudden flight from thescene of their operations, had not lessened the bitterness of theirfeelings, nor their propensity to evil. Fierce were the glances whichthey shot forth upon the small troop which D'Erlach conducted beforetheir eyes on his purposes of doubtful policy. Little did he dream whateyes were looking upon him. Could they have blasted with a glance orcurse, he had been transformed with all his followers where he passed.But the three conspirators had no power for more than curses. These,though "not loud, were deep." With clenched fists extended towards himon his progress, they devoted him to the wrath of a power which theydid not themselves possess; and, watching his course through the partedfoliage, until he was fairly out of sight, they delivered themselves, inmuttered execrations, of the hate with which his very sight had inspiredthem. Stephen Le Genevois was the first to speak. He was a stalwartsavage, of broad chest, black beard, and most dauntless expression.
"Death of my soul!" was his exclamation; "but that we have lost so muchby the game, it were almost merry to laugh at the way in which that bratof a boy has outwitted us. We have been children in his hands."
"He is now in ours," said La Roquette, gloomily.
"Aye, if the Indian keeps his faith," was the desponding comment ofFourneaux.
"And why should he not keep faith," said Le Genevois. "He has goodreason for it. When did the hope of plunder fail to secure the savage?"
"You must give him blood with it," responded Fourneaux.
"Aye, it must be seasoned. He must have blood," echoed La Roquette.
"Well, and why not? Do we not give him blood? will he not have this impof Satan in his power? may he not feed on him if he will? Aye, and uponall his twenty!" exclaimed Le Genevois, fiercely.
"True--but----"
"But, but, but--ever with your buts! You lack confidence, courage,heart, Fourneaux--you despair too easily! I wonder how you ever becamea conspirator!"
"I sometimes wonder myself. Ask La Roquette, there. He can tell you. Iowe it all to his magic."
"What says your magic now, Roquette--have you any signs for us?"
"Aye, good ones! We shall have what we desire. I have seen--I have said!Be satisfied." This was spoken with due solemnity by the person in whomthe credulity of his companions had found sources of power unknown totheir experience.
"But why not show us what you have seen? Speak plainly, man. Out withit, and leave that mysterious shaking of the head, which has reallynothing in it."
Such was the language of the more manly and impetuous Le Genevois. Itprovoked only a fierce glance from the magician.
"All in good time," said the latter. "Be patient. We shall soon hearfrom Oolenoe."
"Good! and you have seen that we shall be successful?" demandedFourneaux.
"We shall be successful."
"That will depend upon ourselves, rather than upon your visions, I'mthinking," said Le Genevois. "We must have courage, my friends. Thesigns are not good when we call for signs. If we despond, we areundone."
"Stay--hark!" said Fourneaux, interrupting him eagerly. "I hear sounds."
"The wind only."
"No!--hist."
They bent forward in the attitude of listeners, but heard nothing. Theyhad begun again to speak, when an Indian, covered with leaves artfullyglued upon his person, stood suddenly among them. They started to theirfeet and grasped their weapons.
"_Ami!_" was the single word of the intruder, at he stretched out hisarms in signification of friendship.
"Said I not?" demanded the magician, confidently. "This is our man."
His assurance was confirmed by the savage, who spoke the Frenchsufficiently to make himself understood. He came from Oolenoe, and a fewsentences sufficed to place both parties in possession of their mutualplans. The outlaws were not without friends in La Caroline. They were tofind their way once more into that fortress. They had no fears from thesagacity of Laudonniere, during the absence of the youthful but vigilantD'Erlach; and, for the latter, he was to be disposed of by Oolenoe. Andnow the question arose, who should venture to "bell the cat?" who shouldventure himself within the walls of La Caroline?
"Ah!" said one of the conspirators, "if we could only bring Le Genre tohis senses. He would be the man."
"Speak nothing of him," cried Le Genevois, quickly; "he is no longer aman. He is a priest. That defeat has killed his courage. He repents, andis constantly writing to Laudonniere for mercy and pity, and all thatsort of thing. He must not know what we design."
"Who has seen him lately?"
"I know not. He was crossed to the other side of the river by CaptainBourdet in his boats. He crossed to seek refuge with the people ofMollova."
"He is not far, be sure. He will linger close to the fort, in the hopeto get back to it, and, finally, to France. He is not to be thought ofin this expedition."
"Who then?" was the demand of Le Genevois. "Somebody must muzzle thecannon. Who? Who will take the peril and the glory of the enterprise,and in the character of an Indian will put his head in the jaws of thedanger?"
The question remained unanswered. Fourneaux excused himself on a varietyof pleas, not one of which would be satisfactory with a brave man. LaRoquette declared that his magical powers were always valueless whenany restraint was set upon his person; in other words, he could betterperform his incantations when the danger threatened everybody buthimself. He certainly would not think of risking them within LaCaroline, while Laudonniere was in power. Besides "he had no arts ofimitation. He had no abilities as an actor." Stephen Le Genevois smiledas he listened to their pleas and excuses.
"My friends!" he exclaimed. "Did you think that I would suffer a goodscheme to be spoiled by such as you? I but waited that you shouldspeak. This adventure is mine, and I claim it. I will return to LaCaroline. I will play the spy, and take the danger. Mark ye, now,comrade!"--addressing the Indian,--"prepare me for the business. Clotheme in copper, and make me what you please. I have no beauty that youneed fear to spoil."
Thus saying, he threw off, with an air of scornful recklessness, thecostume which he wore. Wild was the toilet, and wilder still the guiseof our buoyant Frenchman. In an open space within the thicket, beneatha great moss-covered oak, which wore the beard of three centuries uponhis breast, the chief conspirator yielded himself to the hands of theIndian. A keen knife shore from his head the thick black hair with whichit was covered. A thin ridge alone was suffered to remain upon thecoronal region, significant of the war-lock of that tribe of Apalachia,to which Oolenoe belonged. The small golden droplets which hung from theFrenchman's ears, were made to give way to a more massive ornament ofshells, cunningly strung upon a hoop of copper wire. His body, strippedto the buff, was then stained with the brown juices of a native plant,which, with other dye-stuffs, the Indian produced from his wallet. Hisbrow was then dyed with deeper hues of red--his cheeks tinged with spotsof the darkest crimson, while a heavy circlet of black, about his eyes,gave to his countenance the aspect of a demon rather than that of a man.This done, the savage displayed a small pocket mirror before the eyesof the metamorphosed outlaw. With an oath of no measured emphasis, theFrenchman bounded to his feet, his eyes flashing with a strange delight.
"It will do!" he shouted. "It likes me well! Were I now in France, therewould be no wonder beside myself. I should stir the envy of the
men--Ishould win the hearts of the women. I should be the loveliest monster.Ho! Ho! Would that my voice would suit my visage!"
A cotton tunic with which the Indian had provided himself, was wrappedround the loins of our new-made savage, his feet were cased withmoccasins, and his legs with leggins made of deerskin--a bow and quiverat his shoulder--a knife in his girdle--a string of peaeg or shells abouthis neck;--and his toilet was complete. That very night, accompaniedby his Indian comrade, Stephen Le Genevois entered the walls of LaCaroline, bearing messages from Oolenoe and Alphonse D'Erlach--thelatter of which, we need scarcely say, were wholly fraudulent. Thecredulous Laudonniere, delighted with assurances of success on the partof his lieutenant, was not particularly heedful of the nature of theevidence thus afforded him, and laid his head on an easy pillow, aroundwhich danger hovered in almost visible forms, while he, unconsciously,dreamed only of golden conquests, and discoveries which were equallyto result in fame and fortune. His guardian angel was withdrawn.His mortified vanity had driven from his side the only person whosevigilance might have saved him. His own unregulated will had yieldedhim, bound, hand and foot, into the power of a relentless enemy.