34 The Defence of a Fort

I increased the guard of Fort Recovery as soon as General Wayne and his force disappeared in the forest, my fears of attack, which surpassed those of the Commander-in-chief, inciting me to the utmost vigilance. He did not know the secret motives impelling Hoyoquim, whose power among the allied tribes was now greatly increased, and the renegade Blackstaffe would be driven on by the same impulse. I also sent forth Osseo, Joe Grimes, and other trusty scouts to beat up the woods for Indian signs.

I was just beyond the palisade, giving instructions to the last of the scouts, when Rose Carew came through the gate. I thought it well to show her at once that I was a commander who commanded.

“No one is allowed outside the palisade without a pass from me,” I said.

“Well, what of it?” she replied, giving me a look that I could not call anything but saucy.

“It means,” I said, “that you must go inside at once.”

“And if I decline to go?”

“Then I shall take you.”

“You would not dare.”

She remained where she was, looking defiance.

I advanced and put my hand upon her arm. I wish to say, too, that it was my firm intention to pick her up and carry her into the fort, although I doubt whether she expected it, as she flushed red, and shrinking away from me ran through the gate. I followed her and I said reproachfully:

“Miss Carew, my position is difficult enough; don’t make it more so.”

“Forgive me,” she replied, her face still red, and turning, she walked away.

I proceeded with the men as if I had been in command for years, thinking then that this was the best way, and I am convinced now that I was right. I summoned Major Carew and placed him in charge of the guard for the rest of the day. He received my orders without a word, and, although he was Rose Carew’s father, I took a pleasure in speaking to him sternly. Lawless I made my chief aide, and he accepted the place with such frank pleasure that I could count upon him beyond a doubt. But there were great grumblings among the other officers; I saw that, however they may have felt toward me personally, they did not relish being placed under the command of a man with my history. I soon beheld an instance of it. I had assigned a lieutenant named Worthington to the duty of assorting some ammunition, and when I passed by in order to inspect the work I found him lolling in his tent. I asked him the reason, and he responded with a supercilious curl of the lip that he did not think hurry was needed.

“Are you in the habit of deciding upon the necessity of orders after you receive them?” I asked, controlling my temper.

“I did not do so when I had them from previous commanding officers,” he replied, still sneering.

“Then you will not do so now,” I said.

Whereupon I sentenced him to three days’ solitary confinement in our little guard-house upon a diet of bread and water, and I saw in person that the sentence was begun. The effect of this speedy action was most-enlivening, and the officers went about their duties with great briskness. As for the privates, there was no discontent among them even from the first, and I felt now that I had affairs well in hand.

Shortly after the arrest of Worthington I met Jasper.

“I congratulate you upon your advancement, cousin,” he said with sleek politeness. “Times change and you ride high.”

“It is true,” I replied, “that I am on horseback, and I may keep the saddle while others who used to ride will have to walk.”

He started a little, a movement that did not escape my eye.

“I do not quite take your meaning, cousin,” he said, “but I for one certainly have never had any wish to keep you down.”

“And perhaps none to help me up.”

“You do me great injustice.”

I had no wish to bandy words with him, in particular when it was his affectation to be polite, and I merely added:

“Since General Wayne has seen fit to leave me in command here, I shall be glad if all will co-operate with me.”

“It shall give me great pleasure to obey any order that you may issue,” he said, in tones that were almost mincing. I preferred that he should be openly hostile, but I walked away without replying.

Thus three or four days passed without incident, but at noon of the fourth day Osseo returned from the forest. He had discarded much of his attire, and he was now the warrior pure and simple.

“What song have the birds of the forest sung in your ear, Osseo?” I asked.

“They have sung many times,” he replied, “but their song is always the same. They tell Osseo that the hostile braves come as thick as the leaves before the whirlwind, and Hoyoquim and the white renegade, Blackstaffe, lead them on. They have heard that the Black Snake is gone, and they wish to take the fort and gather many scalps. Hoyoquim and Blackstaffe hope, too, to capture again the white maiden who was stolen from them.”

“Which they shall never do!” I said with emphasis.

“Manito alone can tell,” replied Osseo solemnly.

His news was of the deepest importance, but I could do nothing now save to wait the attack. In the afternoon Joe Grimes returned with the same report. At twilight, heavy with cares, I walked by the palisade, and Rose Carew again joined me.

“You are thoughtful, Captain Lee,” she said.

“I have need to be,” I replied, glancing at the forest.

“What do you expect there?”

“You know this ground?”

“I do,” she replied, blanching a little. “It is here that the great slaughter of our army occurred.”

“Then what do you think can come from that forest?” I asked.

“The savages.”

“Ay, we are threatened with an Indian attack; it is more than a threat—it is a certainty, and your devoted admirer, Black Eagle, and the renegade, Blackstaffe, lead them on.”

I was angry at her for coming to Fort Recovery, or I would not have spoken thus. Her face blanched again, and she turned upon me an appealing look.

“You do not mean to say that it is I who will be the cause of this attack?” she asked.

“Oh, no,” I replied; “you are merely an incident”—yet I believed in my soul that she was the cause—“and do not fear, Miss Carew; behind these log walls we shall beat them off, no matter how great their numbers. Now go into your cabin, if you would oblige me. An arrow might fly over that palisade and strike you down.”

“And might not one strike you too?”

“Ay, but I would be a poor soldier if I did not take the risk. Now, I ask you to go.”

She went as obediently as a little child.

Several more days passed, and there was no attack; in truth, so far as the soldiers and the officers from the East could see, there was no indication that a single Indian was within a thousand miles of us, and I began to hear murmurs at the excessive watchfulness which rested somewhat heavily upon the more slothful. I was sure that Jasper was instigating these complaints, but I took no notice and did not relax our caution. I was confirmed in my apprehensions by Osseo’s repeated warnings.

A few days later a pack train reached us, and, discharging its load of supplies, prepared to return. Its commander, over whom I had no control, insisted upon camping outside the palisade, claiming that he and his men and animals would be crowded too much inside; and despite my repeated requests, even entreaties, he had his way. I gave him up for lost, knowing well that the savages would not let so tempting a bait escape them. I resolved to remain awake that night, and when I saw Rose Carew passing between the women’s cabins I beckoned to her. She came, though reluctantly, and hanging back like a child that had been scolded.

“You see those lights?” I said, pointing through a crack in the palisade toward the camp fires of the pack train.

She nodded assent.

“Know, then,” I said, “that General St. Clair is not the only fool who has come into the wilderness. There are others, though perhaps not on so large a scale. The commander of those men out there is one.”

I spoke with some bitterness, and she looked surprised.

“Why, they are in no danger,” she exclaimed. “Many of the officers say that there is not an Indian within a hundred miles of us.”

“That only proves what I said about the abundance of fools.”

“Then you feel sure that the savages are near?”

“There can be no doubt of it. I have not been able to go forth and see for myself, but Osseo tells me so, and I would sooner trust his pair of eyes than all the others in the Northwest.”

“Shall we beat them off?”

“I do not doubt it,” I again assured her, “and you shall go back in safety to the East to wed the man of your choice. I begin to understand now why you have come again into this dangerous country. Your anxiety for him would not let you stay behind.”

I spoke plainly, but it was because I felt that I had certain rights over her, almost paternal in their nature—I had saved her from the savages. But I was surprised to see how deeply her face flushed, and her figure wavered like that of a frightened deer about to flee.

“I do not understand you,” she said. “Do you mean to assert that I came to watch over any one besides Major Carew?”

“Ay,” I replied. “My cousin Jasper is a lucky man. Fortune has seemed always to fight for him, and never more ably than now.”

The red did not depart from her cheeks and brow, but otherwise she recovered her self-possession, and changed the subject abruptly, at which I did not wonder, as a girl naturally does not like to discuss with an outsider her coming marriage. She pointed toward the forest, which inclosed the fort with a black and circular wall.

“I have ceased to wonder at your fondness for the wilderness,” she said. “There is a spell in that forest even for me, one who has felt its dangers—an uncanny spell, I grant you, but it is upon me. I feel a desire to search its depths, although I know that danger is there.”

“It draws the woodman as the sea draws the sailor,” I said. “I think that the chief charm lies in its majesty and silence—I don’t use silence in its strict sense, because neither the sea nor the forest is ever wholly silent.”

She made no reply, but stood gazing at the impenetrable wilderness. She had moods in which she was grave, even solemn, and I liked to look at her then, when her beauty took an aspect, severe like that of a vestal virgin. It endured but a few moments. Then she said with a little laugh:

“I am rude, but this wilderness took my thoughts far away.”

“Since you have condescended to come back to Fort Recovery,” I replied in the same tone, “I have a command to repeat to you, and it is that to-morrow during the battle you stay in one of the cabins under shelter.”

My tone was grave now.

“I know that we shall have one,” I replied. “You see the provocation to it,” and I pointed again through the crack in the palisades at the twinkling camp fires of the pack train.

A phantom rose out of the ground beside us, and resolved itself into the shape of a man, tall, erect, and but half clothed. It was Osseo.

“What song do the birds sing to-night, Osseo?” I asked, wishing to speak in a light tone in the presence of a lady. But there was no lightness in his reply.

“The warriors come,” he replied, “as many as when they slew the army of the General-who-never-walks, and more. Before the sun marks the noon hour tomorrow the scalps of those will hang at the belts of the warriors! Manito has made them mad that they may go laughing to death!”

He stretched out his long arm and pointed toward the supply train.

“I know it, Osseo,” I said, “but I can do nothing. I have even begged them to come inside the fort.”

But I made another effort. I went forth to the packers, repeated Osseo’s news and again asked them to come in. They laughed at me, and two or three went so far as to hint that I was a coward. But I refused to take offence, repeated the attempt with similar failure, and then, returning to the fort, placed nearly half my force on guard, making ceaseless rounds in person to see that nothing was neglected. It was not my intent to take any sleep that night; in truth, I could not have slept had I wished it, and the hours passed with terrible slowness. The forest made no sign, the fresh foliage there sighing gently in the wind, and naught else stirring. But I knew that this stillness was ominous; the savage loves a sudden onslaught, and when the ignorant least expects him he comes. The night passed, and the first light of day as narrow as a sword-blade showed under the edge of the horizon. Then the war-whoop, issuing at once from thousands of throats, burst from the forest, and the warriors in swarms poured forward among the trees.

I was watching by the palisade, and I saw their first onset, as they swept like a flood upon the camp of the pack train. I beheld a multitude of flitting brown forms, the flash of upraised tomahawks, and the puff-puff of white smoke from the rifles. The war-whoop, which had swelled at first in one mighty yell, now fell and then rose again, becoming shriller, but continually piercing the drum of the ear as if with the thrust of a knife.

My men fired from the palisade, and here and there one of the flitting brown forms fell, but the wood still poured forth its savage horde. The men in the camp beheld upon them the death of which they had been warned, and at which they had laughed. They grasped their rifles, and at the same moment the stroke of the tomahawk fell. The camp was destroyed as if by one of our Western tornadoes; most of the packers were killed before they could fight, and the rest, driven on by terror, fled to the fort, where we scarce had time to admit them before the horde was upon us too. The attack was so sudden, though expected by many, and the result so sweeping, that the effect of it was unreal. Our eyes seemed to deceive us, but our reason told us it was true.

No man fattens upon his food faster than the red savage, and swinging aloft the bleeding scalps and filling all the forest with their triumphant whoops, the horde rushed upon Fort Recovery, eager for the prize which they had no doubt of winning. Had I been without responsibilities I should have sought the figure of Hoyoquim, sure that he was somewhere in the van, in order that I might send toward him an unerring bullet. I bore the chief no special animosity, but with him fallen the spirit must go out of the attack. The duties of command, however, lay heavy upon me, and I ran from point to point of the wall, urging the men to keep their coolness and to fire with certain aim.

The rattle of our rifles ran in a ring around the palisade, the men standing in the face of all this yelling and frightful swarm with a firmness that was beyond praise, and a storm of bullets broke full upon the brown mass that was launched against us. I expected that the savages would fall back, knowing their dislike of the open assault; but motives of unusual power urged them, and shouting their war-cries and firing their rifles, they rushed to the very foot of the palisade, some hewing at the wood with their tomahawks, and others, drunk with blood-lust, seeking to climb up and spring among us.

I thanked God in that moment for a long experience of Indian warfare, and, knowing that any case of faintheartedness on our side would give to the savages their opening, I watched every point, and always, despite our scanty numbers, I sent relief to any part where the soldiers seemed to yield. Old Joe Grimes rushed past me once, his face black with powder smoke, and a real joy shining in his eyes.

“Didn’t I tell you men’ll fight better without any commander?” he cried. “See how they stand! A fool of a soldier would ’a had us all beat afore this.”

Which I thought rather hard upon me, but I had no time to argue the matter with Joe.

Three of the savages cleared the wooden wall and sprang among us, but they were shot dead before they touched the ground. Yet others took their places and made the same attempt. Never before had I seen such tenacity in assault by the Indians, and now I began to hear the powerful voice of Hoyoquim driving them on, though I sought in vain for the sight of his figure. He was hidden from me by the palisade.

The wall was lowest on the western side, and suddenly it was crested with the forms of the savages. The defenders recoiled for a moment at the sight, and I sprang forward to lead them anew. Two or three of the Indians fired at me, and at the same time I heard a cry from a point inside the wall. A bullet whistled by me, but with involuntary motion I turned at the sound of the cry, which had in it a familiar note. I saw Jasper, a smoking rifle in his hand, and Rose Carew standing before him, her hand upon the same rifle. That picture was impressed upon my brain in the flash of a moment; what caused it and what followed it I knew not, as the savages on the wall demanded all my attention. We drove them back with our rifles, and when I turned again Rose Carew and Jasper were no longer there.

I had no time to ask questions then, as our little fort was a vortex of flame and smoke. We were scarce two hundred within the walls, and more than two thousand outside were seeking to reach us, panting with a desire for another revel of slaughter. We kept close to the palisade, and their bullets, passing over our heads, fell on the ground. I could hear the steady patter-patter behind us like the beat of heavy rain. However fast they fired, they never ceased to utter their war-whoop, a cry so appalling to the inexperienced, and which more than once has routed white men with its suggestion of torture and death. But my soldiers were stanch and true, and the savages fell fast before their rifles.

A long time they pressed the assault, and at last they gathered themselves for a rush fiercer than any that had gone before. It too was beaten back at the wooden wall, and the war-whoop ceased so suddenly that the silence was astonishing. The Indian army melted away as if the hand of a magician had waved it into space, and when I looked again I saw only the bodies of the fallen lying here and there in the open, and beyond them the woods silent and dark as ever. Nowhere was there a sign of a living human being.

“They have fled!” exclaimed Lawless, my aide, who had stayed close beside me throughout the assault.

“But not far,” I replied; “they are lying there in the woods ready to shoot the first of us who venture beyond the palisade.”

“One would think that the earth had swallowed ’em up,” he muttered to himself. And in truth it seemed so. We saw only the forest fresh in its spring foliage, and heard only the wind blowing through the leaves and boughs. But I knew well that the crafty savages were still near, despairing of the open assault, but hoping to win by trick.

I began the round of the palisade, and I came to the little bastion where Jasper had commanded a small detachment.

“Well, we have beaten ’em off for the time, cousin,” he said.

“Ay,” I replied, “but it seems to me, Cousin Jasper, that at the most critical period of the assault one of your bullets flew wide of the true mark.”

He retained his presence of mind wonderfully.

“You saw that, did you?” he said. “I fired at an Indian inside the palisade, thinking that he was an enemy, when it was Osseo. It was a natural mistake at such a moment of excitement. Fortunately, Miss Carew knocked up my gun in time.”

It was a glib and plausible answer, as Osseo in truth was near me when the shot was fired, and I was in doubt. So I passed on to note what damage had been done, and strengthen the garrison as best I could. We had escaped most marvellously well. But a single man of ours had been killed, and the little garrison, triumphant and sanguine, was eager for the savages to attack anew. I felt a great swell of joy. We had beaten off the largest army of Indians ever yet gathered in the West, and I believed that all other attacks upon us would fail in the same way. And in thinking upon it I could not forget my own personal advantage. Few would dare to reproach me with the past in the face of this. Again I was deeply thankful to General Wayne.

I ordered food and drink to be served to the soldiers, and then I entered the women’s quarters. I found Mrs. Winchester and Rose Carew together. The young Englishwoman was very pale, but her quiet manner showed that her courage had not failed.

“What awful sounds!” she said. “The shrieking of those savages was more frightful than their bullets.”

“We have driven them off,” I said, “and I do not think that they will make such another assault, though we may be besieged for some time yet.”

To Rose Carew I said:

“You promised me that you would remain in the cabin during the fighting.”

She showed again that I could never anticipate her mood, for her reply and manner were as meek as those of a nun.

“It is true,” she replied. “I gave you the promise, and I broke it. But I have no excuse to plead.”

Her look was not only meek but appealing, and I could say naught else. Had I known more of the incident which I had but half witnessed I felt that I could have spoken further, but as it was I left the cabin and returned to the defence, a duty that I could not neglect for any personal matter.

The savages, finding that none of us came forth to be shot down from ambush, soon gave proof of their continued presence by opening a scattered fire. Their best marksmen crept from cover to cover, trying to pick off all who incautiously showed their heads over the palisade, but succeeded in wounding only two or three of our men, for which we took a tenfold revenge.

“We broke their hearts when they tried to rush us,” said Joe Grimes in great glee. “Mr. Red Man has made a big mistake.”

“Yes,” I said, “the storming of forts is not to his taste. He will never get inside this palisade.”

An hour or two later we saw a white rag fluttering among the trees, and I ordered my men to hold their fire, that the flag of truce might be brought forward. Its bearer proved to be the renegade Blackstaffe. Then I called Osseo and Joe Grimes.

“I am going to talk to Blackstaffe,” I said. “If any one of the savages fires at me, kill the renegade instantly.”

They made no reply, but the careful manner in which they handled their rifles showed that in case of trickery Blackstaffe was a doomed man. I raised my head above the palisade and asked the renegade what he wished.

“It is you, Mr. Lee, and you are in command; I know that it must be so, or this garrison would not have made such a clever defence.”

You can catch a goose by sprinkling salt on its tail, but I was not to be taken in with such compliments.

“Bring forward the chief, Hoyoquim, the Black Eagle,” I said, “and let him vouch for the fact that I shall not be fired upon while we talk. Otherwise I shall order my men to begin shooting again.”

He looked injured.

“You are unfair,” he said; “you see that I trust you, but you do not trust me.”

“We understand each other perfectly,” I replied. “You know that I am to be trusted, and I know that you are not. You know, too, that I know both of these facts.”

He did not argue the matter, but disappeared in the forest, returning presently with Hoyoquim. The chief was in all the glory and hideousness of his war-paint, and in truth was a ferocious and impressive figure.

I felt some one tugging at my arm, and turning, I saw that it was old Joe Grimes.

“Let me fire at him,” he said. “Just one little bullet, and it will save the border at least a thousand lives.”

“Don’t think of such a thing, Joe,” I replied severely. “It would be the basest treachery. He comes under the flag of truce.”

“It’s right to kill a snake whenever you find him, then you get rid of p’ison. Jest one shot, John, and Osseo at the same time can pick off that d—d renegade, Blackstaffe.”

His voice became pleading.

“Nonsense, Joe!” I replied. “It can not be thought of. Be silent.”

“Do you guarantee that I shall not be fired upon while we are talking?” I shouted to Hoyoquim.

“I promise you that it shall not be,” he replied. “May Manito strike me with his lightning if I lie!”

I was satisfied, and I told Blackstaffe, who evidently was chosen spokesman, to go on.

“You have made a good defence,” he began in the smooth tone that he had adopted from the first, “but you must see that final success is impossible. The warriors of all the allied tribes, the bravest and the best, are here. They outnumber you ten to one. They are the same men that destroyed St. Clair and his soldiers. A thousand skulls bleaching in the forest tell you what the Indians can do. We ask you to surrender and to trust to our mercy.”

I laughed.

“Your mercy?” I replied. “I know what that is—outrage for the women, the stake for the men!”

“There you make a mistake,” he replied. “I admit that the Indians are not particularly soft-hearted, but I am a white man, and I shall use all my influence with them. I do not boast when I say that I have much. As it is, we shall certainly take you, and you know what the Indian is when he is inflamed by battle. I could do nothing then.”

“I have no more to say to you except to come and take us if you can,” I replied, and with that I ended my colloquy. The renegade and Hoyoquim quickly retreated to the woods, and I came down from the palisade. There was another hour of silence, and unconsciously I found myself strolling back toward the quarters of the women. Moreover, I had been revolving a project in my mind, and I asked Rose Carew what I should do with Jasper while the siege lasted.

“It is necessary for some one to be here in charge of this part of the fort,” she said. “Let it be Major Lee.”

Now I understood her, and I was sorry that I had asked the question, although more than half expecting her answer; in truth, it was my desire to oblige her that had prompted me to ask it. I now knew that she wished to keep Jasper out of danger. So, with a sense of self-martyrdom, I sent him to the post that she sought for him.

The savages by and by began a desultory attack, again pursuing their favourite methods, firing from the cover of grass, stumps, and logs, and exposing themselves but little. They did no damage to us save the infliction of one or two slight wounds, and old Joe Grimes laughed with derisive glee.

“I could live on things like this,” he said. “I haven’t had such fun in ten years.”

“Perhaps Blackstaffe would like to rush us again,” I said, sharing to some extent in his grim satisfaction.

“Not he,” replied old Joe. “He ain’t goin’ to hire a dog and bark himself. He’ll let the Black Eagle do all the rushin’ an’ keep his own dirty skin in safety.”

This crackling fire lasted throughout the afternoon. The bullets often flew over the palisade and fell in the inclosure with a light pit-pat like the drop of hailstones, but we seldom replied, preferring to keep our ammunition and to watch vigilantly for another rush. Major Carew came to me in the course of his duty, and began to pay me extravagant compliments on the success of our defence.

“We should have been lost without you,” he said; “and second to you only has been your cousin, Major Lee. He risked his life a half-dozen times in repelling the assault.”

I looked fixedly at him, and his eyes fell. He was not so bold and determined as Jasper, and in truth I did not consider him a villain at all, despite his inchoate treason; merely smooth and self-seeking, and desirous of a brilliant match, in a worldly sense, for his daughter, and yet for the moment I despised him. So feeling, I turned my back upon him without a word and went to another part of the palisade. I could have reminded him of what he and Knowlton had said one night in my presence in Danville, but I thought it an ungenerous revenge. Knowlton was back there now, as quiet as a lamb, though carefully praising the Government at times.

The afternoon waned and night came. I feared the darkness, knowing well that it was most suited to the wiles and strategems of the savage, but an hour or two later Osseo, who had slipped from the fort, returned and said to me: “Let Lee rest easy; there will not be another attack.” He added nothing to this brief statement, but I doubted not the correctness of his words. Then in truth the savages must have had their faces burned finely if, despite the eagerness of Hoyoquim and Blackstaffe, they refused to continue the siege.

The night deepened and darkened, and then glimmering lights appeared here and there at the edge of the forest. It was the savages bearing torches and seeking their dead. We might have picked off some of them from the palisade, but I forbade my men to fire. Old Joe Grimes considered it a waste of mercy, and swore furiously at what he called my foolishness, but obeyed the order nevertheless.

I was standing beside the palisade watching the twinkling lights through a crack and wondering what were the thoughts of these savages, who considered us interlopers, when I heard beside me the light step that I had learned to know so well. Rose Carew, in virtue of her experience among the savages, had become in some sort a privileged character, and now that the battle was over, I could not blame her for coming forth from the cabin. I moved a little to one side and let her look between the two stakes of the palisade.

“What are they doing?” she asked.

“Carrying away their dead.”

“Then the attack is over?”

“I think so. Savage races do not like the open assault. It requires the training of white men to carry through such attempts. They have failed where they expected another great triumph.”

“I can imagine their feelings,” she said. “We know what ours would be if we held this country and saw some one coming to take it.”

Now, I have a certain sympathy for the savage, but my knowledge of him does not permit it to go very far. There are too many of our own people who wish to charge all the faults of our wars with him upon the white man, but that is only the sentimental view. I know the red man’s noble qualities, but I can not forget his great faults either, and the history of his relations with us is filled with his atrocities. But I did not reply, merely continuing to watch the removal of the dead.

The last light died by and by, and the last Indian figure vanished. But I stood there yet, watching the black forest and the girl beside me. Then from those sombre depths came a strange wild note, but clear and sweet. It rose, filled the air, and did not die.

Rose Carew looked at me, and I saw a smile pass over her face.

“It is he,” she said. “It can be none else.”

I nodded. The note following a plaintive air swelled higher and higher, and approached the fort. Numerous heads now appeared upon the palisade, and I did not restrain them, knowing well that the Indians were gone. I called to Winchester, and he came.

“You, too, should be here to greet him,” I said.

“I am glad to have the chance,” he replied.

The figure of a man playing the flute presently emerged from the forest, and then the features of De Chamillard came into view. I ordered the gate thrown open, and, still playing his flute, he walked through the palisade. But when he saw Rose Carew and me he let the instrument fall from his lips, and made one of the finest bows that I had ever seen.

“It is indeed Miss Carew?” he cried, “or—or Mrs. —Mrs.—you shake your head—then it is Miss Carew still! Truly it was a good angel that prompted me to leave the red man and come back to the white man. And it is the great hunter, too! And behold, here is his companion, the red chief, who poetically styles himself the Son of the Evening Star; and yonder, too, is the brave Briton, M. de Winchester! On my soul, ’tis quite a family reunion.”

Thus he chattered in the gayest manner, and I could not tell whether he was in jest or earnest. Yet I doubted not that he was most glad to see us; and as for himself, I could note but little change in his appearance since last we parted in these woods. I cast a look at the forest and he followed it.

“Do not disturb yourself about the savages, mon cher Lee,” he said. “They are gone far from here now. You know how they can speed like ghosts through the wilderness. Your hospitality was too great, and they would flee from a repetition of it. That is why I am here. I do not like such rapid flights, and I concluded to come and stay with you awhile, a matter of the utmost ease to me, as I am still playing my rôle of one stricken by Manito—a great advantage, M. Lee, I assure you, as I am the only man, perhaps, in all this vast northwestern wilderness who has perfect freedom. It was a happy thought of yours that suggested the part to me, and again I thank you.”

I could not tell for the second time whether he was in jest or in earnest, but leaving the palisade, I walked toward the cabins. Osseo, who would not have moved for a king, was in our path, but he stepped quickly aside for De Chamiilard, bestowing upon him a look that was half pity, half reverence. None, not even De Chamiilard himself, could ever persuade Osseo that the Frenchman was not in truth stricken by the lightning of Manito, and therefore in his special keeping.

I was entitled now to a little rest, and I determined to take it while I played host to De Chamillard. I introduced him to Mrs. Winchester, to whom he paid the same deference that he had shown to Rose Carew, murmuring that while their countries might quarrel and go to war, no Frenchman could ever forget the beauty and grace of the English ladies. Then over a little wine he told me the tale of his wanderings.

“I have been all this while with the savages,” he said, “taking no part in their wars or their cruelties, but roaming as I wish, even to the head of the Great Lakes and past the Father of Waters. The character which I took upon me and of which I could not now rid myself if I would, protects me everywhere. I have seen mighty rivers and mightier lakes, and great forests and savage men, and I have seen life. And now, dear Lee, if you can, tell me of that France which has perhaps forgotten one of the humblest of her sons, but which I can not forget though I go deeper and deeper into the woods, where no word of the dear land can follow me.”

I told him of all the strange and terrible things that were happening there, or at least the story of them as it came to us in the woods, and I saw all the lightness of his manner disappear for the while. He was silent a long time, but at last he said:

“Poor France! I suppose that I ought to be there, but how can I go when my conscience will let me fight for neither party?”

I too was silent, contemplating this exile of old Versailles, seemingly so bizarre here in our wilderness, and yet taking his place in it with such ease. And I knew also that while he was of the old order his heart was more with the new than the old.

The next day all traces of sadness were gone from his manner, and he dropped too the rôle which he had so long played among the savages. Instead he was the courtier, giving the greater part of his devotion to Mrs. Winchester and Miss Carew, but neglecting none other of the ladies.

“Had I known that they were here, my dear Lee,” he said to me with the utmost sincerity, “I should have come sooner. The only flaw that I find in the wilderness is the absence of the feminine gender, as one knows it in the capitals of the world. Primitive man is well enough, but may the gods save me from primitive woman! Civilization is necessary on woman’s account.”

He was an established favourite with men and women alike in less than twenty-four hours, and I also found that his report concerning the savages was correct in every detail. They retreated northward so fast that our scouts could scarce keep pace with them, and not long afterward I read with abounding delight General Wayne’s letter of congratulation to me.

“It is the most brilliant success that we have won in the West for a long time, dear Jack,” he wrote. “In truth it is the only one, and God knows that it came at the right time! I have described it in full in the report that I have just forwarded to the President, and do not be afraid that I have not done you full justice.”

Did ever man have a better friend than I had in him?

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