Beyond the Frontier. Randall Parrish
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?”
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“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 Père 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 84 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.
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’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 86 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.
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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 88 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.