And still, lurking in the doorway, the grown boy in shabby clothes and the hunchback lingered, waiting, expectant.
"It won"t be long now," the hunchback muttered.
"It won"t be long," the other echoed.
Pet.i.te Jeanne, though a trifle disappointed by the dispelling of the mystery of their immediate surroundings, soon enough found herself charmed by Florence"s vivid pictures of life in those days when Chicago was a village, when the Chicago River ran north instead of south, and Indians still roamed the prairies in search of buffaloes.
How this big, healthy, adventure-loving girl would have loved the life they lived in those half forgotten days! As it was, she could live them now only in imagination. This she did to her heart"s content.
So they lingered long, these two. Seated on a broad, hand-hewn bench, looking out over the dark waters, waiting in uncertainty for the possible return of the storm that, having spent its fury in a vain attempt to drown the lake, did not return, they lived for the most part in the past, until a clock striking somewhere in the distance announced the hour of midnight.
"Twelve!" Pet.i.te Jeanne breathed in great surprise. "It will not rain now. We must go."
"Yes." Florence sprang to her feet. "We must go at once."
The moon was out now; the storm had pa.s.sed. Quietly enough they started down the winding stairs. Yet startling developments awaited them just around the corner.
In the meanwhile on the city streets the voice of the tumult had died to a murmur. Here came the rumble of a pa.s.sing train; from this corner came the sound of hammers dismantling grandstands that the morning rush might not be impeded. Other than these there was no sign that a great city had left its homes and had for once taken one long interested look at itself only to return to its homes again.
As Florence and Jeanne stepped from the door of the blockhouse they were startled by the sound of voices in low but animated conversation.
"Here, at this hour of the night!" At once Florence was on the defensive.
The fort, she knew, was not yet open to the public. Even had it been, located as it was on this desolate stretch of "made land," it would be receiving no visitors at midnight.
"Come!" she whispered. "They are over there, toward the gate. We dare not try to go out, not yet."
Seizing Jeanne by the hand, she led her along the dark shadows of a wall and at last entered a door.
The place was strange to them; yet to Florence it had a certain familiarity. This was a moment when her pa.s.sion for the study of history stood her in good stead.
"This is the officers" quarters," she whispered. "There should be a door that may be barred. The windows are narrow, the cas.e.m.e.nts heavy. Here one should be safe."
She was not mistaken. Hardly had they entered than she closed the door and let down a ma.s.sive wooden bar.
"Now," she breathed, "we are safe, unless--"
She broke short off. A thought had struck her all of a heap.
"Unless what?" Jeanne asked breathlessly.
"Unless this place has a night watchman. If it has, and he finds us here at this hour of the night we will be arrested for trespa.s.sing. And then we will have a ride in a police wagon which won"t be the least bit of fun."
"No," agreed Jeanne in a solemn tone, "it won"t."
"And that," whispered Florence, as she tiptoed about examining things, "seems to be about what we are up against. I had thought the place a mere unfurnished wooden sh.e.l.l. That is the way the blockhouse was. But see! At the end of this room is a fireplace, and beside it are all sorts of curious cooking utensils, great copper kettles, skillets of iron with yard-long handles and a bra.s.s cornhopper. Coming from the past, they must be priceless."
"And see! There above the mantel are flintlock rifles," Jeanne put in.
"And beside the fireplace are curious lanterns with candles in them. How I wish we could light them."
"We dare not," said Florence. "But one thing we can do. We can sit in that dark corner where the moon does not fall, and dream of other days."
"And in the meantime?" Jeanne barely suppressed a shudder.
"In the meantime we will hope that the guard, if there be one, goes out for his midnight lunch and that we may slip out un.o.bserved. Truly we have right enough to do that. We have meant no harm and have done none."
So, sitting there in the dark, dreaming, they played that Florence was the youthful commander of the fort and that the slender Jeanne was his young bride but recently brought into this wilderness.
"The wild life and the night frighten you," Florence said to Jeanne. "But I am young and strong. I will protect you. Come! Let us sit by the fire here and dream a while."
Jeanne laughed a low musical laugh and snuggled closer.
But, for Jeanne, the charm of the past had departed. Try as she might, she could not overcome the fear that had taken possession of her upon realizing that they were not alone.
"Who can these men be?" she asked herself. "Guards? Perhaps, and perhaps not."
She thought of the dark-faced man who so inspired her with fear. "We saw him out there on the waste lands," she told herself, as a chill coursed up her spine. "It is more than probable that he saw us. He may have followed us, watching us like a cat. And now, at this late hour, when a piercing scream could scarcely be heard, like a cat he may be ready to spring."
In a great state of agitation she rose and crept noiselessly toward the window.
"Come," she whispered. "See yonder! Two men are slinking along before that other log building. One is stooped like a hunchback. He is carrying a well-filled sack upon his back. Surely they cannot be guards.
"Can it be that this place is left unguarded, and that it is being robbed?"
Here was a situation indeed. Two girls in this lonely spot, unguarded and with such prowlers about.
"I am glad the door is b-barred." Jeanne"s teeth chattered.
Having gone skulking along the building across the way, the men entered and closed the door. Two or three minutes later a wavering light appeared at one of the narrow windows.
"Perhaps they are robbing that place of some precious heirlooms!"
Florence"s heart beat painfully, but she held herself in splendid control.
"This buil-building will be next!" Jeanne spoke with difficulty.
"Perhaps. I--I think we should do something about it."
"But what?"
"We shall know. Providence will guide us." Florence"s hand was on the bar. It lifted slowly.
What was to happen? They were going outside, Jeanne was sure of that. But what was to happen after that? She could not tell. Getting a good grip on herself, she whispered bravely:
"You lead. I"ll follow."