The Road to Frontenac. Merwin Samuel
How do I know that you would not have let it slip to others if you had had the chance? You forget that Mademoiselle is a woman, and the first and last duty of a soldier is to tell no secrets to a woman.”
“You speak wrongly of Mademoiselle. It is cowardly to talk thus.”
Menard paused to get control of his temper.
“Cowardly, Danton? Is that the word you apply to your commander?”
“Your pardon, M’sieu! A thousand pardons! It escaped me–”
“We will pass it by. I want you to understand this matter. Mademoiselle will spend a night in Montreal. We shall leave her with other women. A stray word, which to her might mean nothing, might be enough to give the wrong persons a hint of the meaning of our journey. A moment’s nervousness might slip the bridle from her tongue. All New France is not so loyal that we can afford to drop a chance secret here and there. As to this maid, she is only a child, and by giving her our secrets, you are forcing her to bear a burden which we should bear alone. These Indians this morning were spies, I am inclined to believe, scouting along the river for information of the coming campaign. The only way that we can feel secure is by letting no word escape our lips, no matter how trivial. I tell you this, not so much for this occasion as for a suggestion for the future.”
“Very well, M’sieu. You will please accept my complete apologies.”
“I shall have to add, Danton, that if any further mistake of this kind occurs I shall be forced to dismiss you from my service. Now that I have said this, I want you to understand that I don’t expect it to happen. I have believed in you, Danton, and I stand ready to be a friend to you.”
Menard held out his hand. Danton clasped it nervously, mumbling a second apology. For a few moments longer they sat there, Menard trying to set Danton at ease, but the boy was flushed, and he spoke only half coherently. He soon excused himself and wandered off among the trees and the thick bushes.
During the next day Danton was in one of his sullen moods. He worked feverishly, and, with the maid, kept Father Claude occupied for the greater part of the time, as they paddled on, with conversation, and with discussion of the Iroquois words. The maid felt the change from the easy relations in the party, and seemed a little depressed, but she threw herself into the studying. Often during the day she would take up a paddle, and join in the stroke. At first Menard protested, but she laughed, and said that it was a “rest” after sitting so long.
They were delayed on the following day by a second accident to the canoe, so that they were a full day late in reaching Montreal. They moved slowly up the channel, past the islands and the green banks with their little log-houses or, occasionally, larger dwellings built after the French manner. St. Helen’s Island, nearly opposite the city, had a straggling cluster of hastily built bark houses, and a larger group of tents where the regulars were encamped, awaiting the arrival of Governor Denonville with the troops from Quebec.
Menard stopped at the island, guiding the canoe to the bank where a long row of canoes and bateaux lay close to the water.
“You might get out and walk around,” he said to the others. “I shall be gone only a few moments.”
Father Claude sat on the bank, lost in meditation. Danton and the maid walked together slowly up and down, beyond earshot from the priest. Since Menard’s rebuke, both the lad and the maid had shown a slight trace of resentment. It did not come out in their conversation, but rather in their silences, and in the occasions which they took to sit and walk apart from the others. It was as if a certain common ground of interest had come to them. The maid, for all her shyness and even temper, was not accustomed to such cool authority as Menard was developing. The priest was keeping an eye on the fast-growing acquaintanceship, and already had it vaguely in mind to call it to the attention of Menard, who was getting too deeply into the spirit and the details of his work to give much heed.
Menard was soon back.
“Push off,” he said. “The Major is not here. We shall have to look for him in the city.”
They headed across the stream. The city lay before them, on its gentle slope, with the mountain rising behind like an untiring sentry. It was early in the afternoon, and on the river were many canoes and small boats, filled with soldiers, friendly Indians, or voyageurs, moving back and forth between the island and the city. They passed close to many of the bateaux, heaped high with provision and ammunition bales, and more than once the lounging soldiers rose and saluted Menard.
At the city wharf he turned to Danton.
“We shall have to get a larger canoe, Danton, and a stronger. Will you see to it, please? We shall have two more in our party from now on. Make sure that the canoe is in the best of condition. Also I wish you would see to getting the rope and the other things we may need in working through the rapids. Then spend your time as you like. We shall start early in the morning.”
Menard and Father Claude together went with the maid to the Superior, who arranged for her to pass the night with the sisters. Then Menard left the priest to make his final arrangements at the Mission, and went himself to see the Commandant, to whom he outlined the bare facts of his journey to Frontenac.
“The thing that most concerns you,” he said finally, “is a meeting I had a few days ago with three Indians down the river. One called himself the Long Arrow, and another was Teganouan, who, Father de Casson tells me, recently left the Mission at the Sault St. Francis Xavier. They claim to be Mission Indians. It will be well to watch out for them, and to have an eye on the Richelieu, and the other routes, to make sure that they don’t slip away to the south with information.”
“Very well,” replied the Commandant. “I imagine that we can stop them. Do you feel safe about taking this maid up the river just now?”
“Oh, yes. Our men are scattered along the route, are they not?” Menard asked.
“Quite a number are out establishing Champigny’s transport system.”
“I don’t look for any trouble. But I should like authority for one or two extra men.”
“Take anything you wish, Menard. I will get word over to the island at once, giving you all the authority you need.”
CHAPTER V.
DANTON BREAKS OUT
When Menard reached the wharf, early on the following morning, he found Father Claude waiting for him. The new canoe lay on the wharf, and beside it was a heap of stores. Perrot and the two new engagés sat on the edge of the wharf. The sun had just risen over the trees on St. Helen’s Island, and the air was clear and cool.
“Well, Perrot,” said Menard, as he unslung his musket and horn, “is everything ready?”
“Everything, M’sieu.”
“Where is Guerin?”
“I have not seen him, M’sieu.”
Menard turned to the priest.
“Good-morning, Father. You are on time, I see; and that is more than we can say for Danton. Where is the boy?”
“He has gone for Mademoiselle St. Denis, Captain. He was here before the sunrise, checking up the stores.”
“Learning to work, is he? That is a good sign. And how about yourself? Did you pick up anything yesterday?”
“Yes,” replied the priest. “I enquired at the Mission about Teganouan and his companions.”
“Well?”
“Nothing is known of them. Teganouan had been one of the worst drunkards among the Onondagas, and his conversion, a year ago, was thought to be one of our greatest victories for the faith. His penances were among the most complete and purging ever–”
“And the others?”
“Just before I left the Mission for Quebec, Teganouan went on an errand to the city and fell among some of our fellow-countrymen who were having a drinking bout. For a few days after that he wavered, and fell again. Once afterward he was seen in company with two low fellows, coureurs de bois,