"Fight you? I believe we have settled that matter," insolently.
The Chevalier brought the back of his hand swiftly against D"Herouville"s mouth.
The laugh which sounded came from the vicomte. This would be interesting if no one interfered. But he was up almost as quickly as Victor, who rushed between the two men. D"Herouville"s sword was half free.
"Wherever you say!" he cried hoa.r.s.ely.
"A moment, gentlemen!" said the vicomte, pointing toward the dancing circle.
A tall figure had stepped quietly into the dancing circle, raising his hands to command silence. It was the Black Kettle, son of Atotarho.
"Two stranger canoes are coming up the river. Let us go to meet them,"
said the Black Kettle. "Either they are friends, or they are enemies."
"Let us wait and see what this is," and the vicomte touched the Chevalier on the arm.
"Curse you all!" cried D"Herouville pa.s.sionately. "Liar!" He turned upon Victor. "But for your lying tongue, I should not be here."
"After Monsieur le Chevalier," said the poet, forgetting that he could not hold a sword.
"Rather say after me, Saumaise;" and the vicomte smiled significantly.
"All of you, together or one at a time!" D"Herouville was mad with rage.
"One at a time," replied the banterer; "the Chevalier first, and if he leaves anything worth fighting, I; as for you, my poet, your chances are nil."
Meanwhile a dozen canoes had been launched. A quarter of an hour pa.s.sed anxiously; and then the canoes returned, augmented by two more.
Father Chaumonot hailed. An answering hail came back.
"Father Chaumonot?"
"Who calls me by name?" asked the Jesuit.
"Brother Jacques!"
Brother Jacques! The human mind moves quickly from one thing to another. For the time being all antagonism was gone; a single thought bound the four men together again.
"Are you alone?" asked Chaumonot. His voice quavered in spite of his effort.
"No!" sang out Brother Jacques"s barytone; and there was a joyous note in it. "Two daughters of Onontio are captives with me."
Two daughters of Onontio; two women from the Chateau St. Louis! A rare wine seemed to infuse the Chevalier"s blood. He forgot many things in that moment.
"Women?" murmured Father Chaumonot, in perplexity. "Oh, this is fortunate and yet unfortunate! What shall we do with them here? I can spare no men to take them back to Quebec; and the journey would only plunge them into danger even worse."
The Senecas, sullen but dignified, and their captives were brought ash.o.r.e and led toward the fire. The Onondagas crowded around. These, then, were the fair flowers which grew in the gardens of the white man; and the young braves, who had never before set eyes upon white women, gazed wonderingly and curiously at the two marvels. The women sustained with indifference and composure this mild investigation.
They had gone through so much that they were not interested in what they saw. The firelight illumined their sadly arrayed figures and played over their worn and weary faces. Father Chaumonot extended his hands toward them rea.s.suringly; and they followed his every gesture with questioning eyes. Corn Planter, the Seneca chief, began to harangue. Since when had the Onondaga brother taken it upon himself to meddle with the affairs of the Senecas? Was not the law written plainly? Did the Onondaga wish to defy the law of their forefathers?
The prisoners were theirs by right of their cunning. Let the Senecas proceed with their captives, as their villages were yet very far away, and they had spent much time in loitering.
"We will buy," said Father Chaumonot, knowing the savage"s cupidity.
"Two belts of wampum."
The Corn Planter made a negative sign.
"Ten beaver skins," said the priest.
"The daughters of Onontio are worth a thousand beaver skins."
"Well, then," said leather Chaumonot, reaching down and taking a musket from the ground, "this with powder and ball to go with it."
The Corn Planter wavered. He took the gun and inspected it, turned it over to his companions that they might also pa.s.s judgment upon it; and they whispered among themselves for a s.p.a.ce.
"Corn Planter accepts the thunderer for himself and ten beaver skins for his brave warriors," and the barter was consummated.
It was now that madame saw four familiar faces beyond the fire. These men, these men; even here, in the heart of the wilderness! With an odd little smile she extended her hands, swayed, and became limp upon Brother Jacques"s arm.
CHAPTER XXVIII
THE FLASH FROM THE SPURT OF FLAME
The presence of the women in the settlement brought about a magic change. Beards were clipped, locks were trimmed, clothes overhauled, and the needle and thread performed an almost forgotten office; the jest was modified, and the meal hours were quiet and decorous. The women were given a separate cabin in which they were to sleep, and every one contributed something toward their comfort. Father Le Mercier even went so far as to delay ma.s.s the first morning in order that the women might be thoroughly rested. Thus, a grain of humor entered into the lives of these grim men.
"Madame," said the Chevalier, "permit me to felicitate you upon your extraordinary escape." This was said during the first morning.
Madame courtesied. Her innate mockery was always near the surface.
"Will you grant me the pleasure of showing you the mission?"
"No, Monsieur le Chevalier; Monsieur de Saumaise and Brother Jacques have already offered to do that service. Monsieur," decidedly, "is it to be peace or war?"
"Should I be here else?"
"Else what, peace or war?"
"Neither. I shall know no peace. I have followed you, as I said, though indirectly."
"Ah! then you really followed me this time? Did you read that letter which I sent to you?"
"Letter? I have seen no letter from you."
"I believe I sent you one . . . after that morning."
"I have not seen it."
She breathed a sigh of relief. He did not know, then? So the comedy must go on as of old. "So you followed me," as if musing.