The Hunters of the Hills Read online

  CHAPTER VI

  THE TWO FRENCHMEN

  When the three were left alone in the glade the hunter turned to youngLennox.

  "You've done good work today, Robert," he said. "I didn't know you hadin you the makings of an orator and diplomatist. The governor of NewYork did better than he knew when he chose you for one of this mission."

  Robert blushed again at praise and modestly protested.

  "Lennox has found that for which he is best fitted," said Tayoga, slyly.

  "If I'm to talk without end I'll do my best," said Robert, laughing,"and I suggest that we resume our journey now. There doesn't appear tobe any further danger from the Indians who besieged us."

  "You're right about it, Robert," said the hunter. "The coming of theMohawks has put a barrier between us and them. I've an idea thatDayohogo and his warriors won't go far toward Ticonderoga, but will soonturn south to meet those savages and acquire a few scalps if they can,and if they do meet 'em I hope they'll remove that Ojibway, Tandakora,who I think is likely to make us a lot of trouble."

  Willet never spoke of the Iroquois as "savages," but he often appliedthe term to the Canadian and Western Indians. Like Robert, he regardedthose who had built up the great political and military power of theHodenosaunee as advanced, and, in a sense, civilized nations.

  "I think my friend, the Great Bear, is right," said Tayoga. "UnlessTandakora and his band have gone toward the west it is likely thatDayohogo will meet them, and they cannot stand before the Mohawks."

  "I think it more probable," said Robert, "that after the failure todestroy us Tandakora went back to St. Luc, giving a false explanation ofhis absence or none at all, just as he pleased."

  "It may be so," said Tayoga, "but I have another opinion."

  While they talked they were taking the canoe from its shelter, and thenthey bore it down to the river again, putting it back into the streamand listening with pleasure to the gurgle of the water by its sides.

  "Paddling isn't the easiest work in the world," said Willet withsatisfaction, "but when you're used to it your muscles can stand it along time, and it's far ahead of walking. Now, ho for Canada!"

  "Ho for Canada!" said Robert, and the three paddles flashed again in theclear water. The canoe once more became a live thing and shot down thestream. They were still in the wilderness, racing between solid banks ofgreen forest, and they frequently saw deer and bear drinking at the edgeof the river, while the foliage was vivid with color, and musical withthe voices of singing birds.

  Robert had a great elation and he had reason to be satisfied withhimself. They had triumphed over the dangers of the gorge and savagesiege, and he had sowed fruitful seed in the mind of Dayohogo, thepowerful Mohawk chief. He had also come to a realization of himself,knowing for the first time that he had a great gift which might carryhim far, and which might be of vast service to his people.

  Therefore, the world was magnificent and beautiful. The air of forestand mountain was keen with life. His lungs expanded, all his facultiesincreased in power, and his figure seemed to grow. Swelling confidencebore him on. He was anxious to reach Quebec and fulfill his mission.Then he would go back to the vale of Onondaga and match himself againstthe clever St. Luc or any other spokesman whom the Marquis Duquesnemight choose to send.

  But his golden dreams were of Quebec, which was a continuous beacon andlure to him. Despite a life spent chiefly in the woods, which he loved,he always felt the distant spell of great capitals and a gorgeouscivilization. In the New World Quebec came nearer than any other city tofulfilling this idea. There the nobles of France, then the mostglittering country in the world, came in silks and laces and with goldhilted swords by their sides. The young French officers fought with ajest on their lips, but always with skill and courage, as none knewbetter than the British colonials themselves. There was a glow andglamor about Quebec which the sober English capitals farther south didnot have. It might be the glow and glamor of decay, but people did notknow it then, although they did know that the Frenchman, with his loveof the forest and skill in handling the Indians, was a formidable foe.

  "When do you think we'll reach the St. Lawrence, Dave?" he asked.

  "In two or three days if we're not attacked again," replied the hunter,"and then we'll get a bigger boat and row down the river to Quebec."

  "Will they let us pass?"

  "Why shouldn't they? There's no war, at least not yet."

  "That battle back there in the gorge may not have been war, but itlooked precisely like it."

  The hunter laughed deep in his throat, and it was a satisfied laugh.

  "It did look like it," he said, "and it was war, red war, but nobody wasresponsible for it. The Marquis Duquesne, the Governor General ofCanada, who is Onontio to our Iroquois, will raise his jeweled hand, andprotest that he knew nothing about those Indians, that they were wildwarriors from the west, that none of his good, pious Indians of Canadacould possibly have been among them. And the Intendant, Francois Bigot,the most corrupt and ambitious man in North America, will say that theyobtained no rifles, no muskets, no powder, no lead from him or hisagents. Oh, no, these fine French gentlemen will disown the attack uponus, as they would have disavowed it, just the same, if we had beenkilled. I want to warn you, Robert, and you, Tayoga, that when you reachQuebec you'll breathe an air that's not that of the woods, nor yet ofAlbany or New York. It's a bit of old Europe, it's a reproduction on asmall scale of the gorgeous Versailles over there that's eating theheart out of France. The Canadian Frenchman is a good man, brave andenduring, as I ought to know, but he's plundered and fooled by thosepeople who come from France to make fame or quick fortunes here."

  He spoke with earnestness, but not as a hunter. Rather he seemed now toRobert, despite his forest dress, to be a man of the world, one whounderstood cities as well as the wilderness.

  "I don't know all your life, Dave," said young Lennox, "but I'm quitesure you know a great deal more than you would have people to think.Sometimes I believe you've been across the great water."

  "Then you believe right, Robert. I never told you in so many wordsbefore, but I've been in Europe. I'll talk to you about it another time,not now, and I'll choose where and when."

  He spoke so positively that Robert did not pursue the topic, knowingthat if the hunter wished to avoid it he had good reasons. Yet he feltanew that David Willet, called the Great Bear by the Iroquois, had notspent his whole life in the woods and that when the time came he couldtell a tale. There was always the fact that Willet spoke excellentEnglish, so unlike the vernacular of the hunters.

  The afternoon was waning fast. The sun was setting in an ocean of firethat turned the blue line of the mountains in the east to red. The slopeof the land made the current of the river much swifter, and Robert andWillet drew in their paddles, leaving the work to Tayoga alone, who satin the prow and guided their light craft with occasional strokes,letting the stream do the rest.

  There was no more expert canoeman than Tayoga in the whole northernwilderness. A single sweep of his paddle would send the canoe to anypoint he wished, and apparently it was made without effort. There was noshortening of the breath nor any sudden and violent movement of hisfigure. It was all as smooth and easy as the flowing of the wateritself. It seemed that Tayoga was doing nothing, and that the canoe oncemore was alive, the master of its own course.

  The ocean of fire faded into a sea of gray, and then black night came,but the canoe sped on in the swift current toward the St. Lawrence. Itwas still the wilderness. The green forest on either side of the streamwas unbroken. No smoke from a settler's chimney trailed across the sky.It was the forest as the Indian had known it for centuries. Robert,sitting in the center of the canoe, quit dreaming of great cities andcame back to his own time and place. He felt the majesty of all thatsurrounded him, but he was not lonely, nor was he oppressed. Instead,the night, the great forest, the swift river and the gliding canoeappealed to his sensitive and highly imaginative mind. He was upliftedand he felt the con
fidence and elation that contribute so much tosuccess.

  It was characteristic of the three, so diverse in type, and yet knittedso closely together in friendship, that they would talk much at timesand at other times have silence long and complete. Now, neither spokefor at least three hours. Tayoga, in the prow, made occasional strokesof his paddle, but the current remained swift and the speed of the canoewas not slackened. The young Onondaga devoted most of his time towatching. Much wreckage from storms or the suction of flood water oftenfloated on the surface of these wild rivers, and his keen eyes searchedfor trunk or bough or snag. They also scanned at intervals the greenwalls speeding by on either side, lest they might pass some camp fireand not notice it, but finding no lighter note in the darkness he feltsure that no hostile bands were near.

  About midnight the force of the current began to abate and Robert andWillet used the paddles. The darkness also thinned. The rainless cloudsdrifted away and disclosed a full moon, which turned the dusk of thewater to silver. The stars came out in cluster after cluster and theskies became a shining blue. The wilderness revealed itself in anotherand splendid phase, and Robert saw and admired.

  "How long will we go on, Dave?" The words were his and they were thefirst to break the long silence.

  "Until nearly daylight," replied Willet. "Then we can land, take thecanoe into the bushes and rest. What do you say, Tayoga?"

  "It is good," replied the Onondaga. "We are not weary, because theriver, of its own accord, has borne us on its bosom, but we must sleep.We would not wish to appear heavy of eye and mind before the children ofOnontio."

  "Well spoken, Tayoga," said the hunter. "An Iroquois chief knows thatappearance and dignity count, and you were right to remind us of it. Ithink that by the next sunset we'll be meeting French, not the CanadianFrench that they call _habitants_, but outposts made up mostly ofofficers and soldiers from France. They'll be very curious about us,naturally so, and since your new friend Dayohogo has announced that youare a great orator, you can do most of the talking and explaining,Robert."

  "I'll talk my best," replied young Lennox. "Nobody can do more."

  As agreed, they drew the canoe into the bushes shortly before daylight,and slept several hours. Then they returned to the river and resumedtheir journey. By the middle of the afternoon they saw signs ofhabitation, or at least of the presence of human beings. They beheld twosmokes on the right bank, and one on the left, trailing black linesagainst the blue of the sky, but they were all far away, and they didnot care to stop and determine their origin.

  Shortly before sunset they saw a camp fire, very close on the easternshore, and as they drew near the figures of men in uniform were visibleagainst the red glow.

  "I think we'd better draw in here," said Robert. "This is undoubtedly anoutpost, and, likely, an officer of some importance is in charge. Oursis a mission of peace, and we want to placate as many people as we can,as we go."

  "It is so," said Tayoga, making a sweep or two of the paddle, andsending the canoe in a diagonal line toward the designated shore.

  Two men in blue uniforms with white facings walked to the edge of thewater and looked at them with curiosity. Robert gave them a gaze asinquiring as their own, and after the habit of the forest, noted themcarefully. He took them to be French of France. One was about fortyyears of age, rather tall, built well, his face browned by forest life.He had black, piercing eyes and a strong hooked nose. A man ofresolution but cold of heart, Robert said to himself. The other, alittle smaller, and a little younger, was of much the same type. Theuniforms of both were fine and neat, and they bore themselves asofficers of importance. Like St. Luc, they fortified Robert's opinion ofwhat he was going to find at Quebec.

  Neither of the men spoke until the canoe touched the shore, and itsthree occupants sprang out. Then they bowed politely, though Robertfancied that he saw a trace of irony in their manner, and the elder saidin good English:

  "Good evening, gentlemen."

  "Good evening, Messieurs," said Robert, remembering that he was to bespokesman. "We are English."

  "I can see readily that two of you are."

  "The third, Tayoga, the son of a great Onondaga chief, is English alsoat heart."

  The lips of the Frenchman curled ever so little. Robert saw at oncethat he challenged his assertion about Tayoga, but he did not seem tonotice it, as he expected that his comrades and himself would be guestsin the French camp.

  "I have mentioned Tayoga," he said, "but I will introduce him again. Heis of the clan of the Bear, of the nation Onondaga, of the great Leagueof the Hodenosaunee. I also present Mr. David Willet, a famous scout andhunter, known to the Indians, and perhaps to some of the French, too, asthe Great Bear. My own name is Robert Lennox, of Albany and New York,and I have done nothing that is descriptive of me, but I bear importantletters from the Governor of New York to Quebec, to be delivered to theMarquis Duquesne, the Governor General of Canada."

  "That, young sir, is no slight mission," said the elder man, "and it isour good fortune to speed you on your way. My friend is the ChevalierFrancois de Jumonville, one of France's most gallant officers, and I amAuguste de Courcelles, a colonel by fortune's favor, in the service ofHis Majesty, King Louis."

  "I am sure," said Robert, "that it is not chance or the favor of fortunethat has given you such important rank. Your manner and presence aresufficient assurance to me that you have won your rank with your ownmerits."

  De Courcelles laughed a little, but it was a pleased laugh.

  "You have a more graceful tongue than most of the English," he said,"and I could almost believe you had been at court."

  "No nearer a court than Albany or New York."

  "Then, sir, your credit is all the greater, because you have acquired somuch with so little opportunity."

  Robert bowed formally and Colonel de Courcelles bowed back in the samemanner.

  "The roads from Albany to Quebec are but trails," said de Courcelles,"but I hope your journey has been easy and pleasant."

  Willet gave Robert a warning glance, and the lad replied:

  "Fairly pleasant. We have met a slight obstacle or two, but it was nothard to remove them."

  De Courcelles lifted his eyebrows a little.

  "'Tis reported," he said, "that the savages are restless, that yourEnglish governors have been making them presents, and, as they interpretthem, 'tis an inducement for them to take up the tomahawk against ourgood Canadians. Oh, don't be offended, Mr. Lennox! I have not said Ibelieve such tales. Perhaps 'tis but the tongue of scandal wagging inthis way, because it must wag in some way."

  Robert believed much meaning underlay the man's words, and he made rapidsurmises. Was de Courcelles trying to draw him out? Did he know of theattack made upon them at the hollow beside the river? Did he seek toforestall by saying the English were corrupting the Indians and sendingthem forth with the tomahawk? All these questions passed swiftly in hismind, but the gift discovered so newly came to his aid. His faceexpressed nothing, and smiling a little, he replied:

  "The tongue of scandal, sir, does indeed wag wildly. The Governor of NewYork seeks at all times to keep peace among the Indians, and the factthat I am bearing letters from him to the Marquis Duquesne is proof ofhis good intentions."

  "I accept your professions," said de Courcelles, "as I trust you willaccept my own assurances of amity and good faith. Why should we discusspolitics, when we are well met here in the woods? We have a fairly goodcamp, and it's at your service. If I may judge by appearances yourjourney has been attended by some hardships."

  "You infer correctly," replied Robert, "and we shall be glad indeed toshare your fire and food with you."

  De Courcelles and Jumonville led the way to a large camp fire aroundwhich at least fifty French, Canadians and Indians were seated. All theFrench and Canadians were in uniform, and the Canadians, although livingin a colder climate, had become much darker than the parent stock. Intruth, many of them were quite as dark as the Indians.

  These Canad
ians of the French stock were, for the present, silent men,and Robert regarded them with the deepest interest. Those who were notin uniform wore long frock coats of dark gray or dark brown, belted atthe waist with a woolen sash of bright colors, decorated heavily withbeads. Trousers and waistcoats were of the same material as the coats,but their feet were inclosed in Indian moccasins, also adornedprofusely with beads. They wore long hair in a queue, incased in aneel-skin, and with their swarthy complexions and high cheek bones theylooked like wild sons of the forest to Robert. Tayoga, the Onondaga, wasto him a more civilized being. All the Canadians were smoking shortpipes, and, while they did not speak, their black eyes, restless witheager curiosity, inspected the strangers.

  The Indians in de Courcelles' party were of two types, the convertedIndians of Canada, partly in white man's costume, and utterly savageIndians of the far west, in very little costume at all, one or two ofthem wearing only the breech cloth. The looks they bestowed upon Robertand his comrades were far from friendly, and he wondered if any Ojibway,a warrior who perhaps owned Tandakora as a chief, was among them. Theywere sitting about the fire and none of them spoke.

  "We cannot offer you a banquet," said de Courcelles, "but we can giveyou variety, none the less. This portion of His Majesty's territory is awilderness, but it provides an abundance of fish and game."

  Robert believed that he had alluded purposely to the territory as "HisMajesty's," and, his mind challenging it instantly, he was about toreply that in reality it was the northern part of the Province of NewYork, but his second and wiser thought caused him to refrain. He wouldenter upon no controversy with the older man, especially when he sawthat the latter wished to draw him into one. De Courcelles, seeing thathis lead was not followed, devoted himself to hospitality.

  "We have venison, beaver tail, quail, good light bread and some thinred wine," he said. "You Americans or English--which shall I call you?"

  "Either," replied Robert, "because we are both."

  "Then English it shall be for the present, because you are under thatflag. I was going to say that you are somewhat hostile to wine, which weFrench love, and which we know how to drink in moderation. In somerespects we are a people of more restraint than you are. The slow, coldEnglish mind starts with an effort, but when it is started it is stoppedwith equal difficulty. You either do too little or too much. You lackthe logic and precision of the Frenchman."

  Robert smiled and replied lightly. Having avoided controversy upon onepoint, he was of no mind to enter it upon another, and de Courcelles,not pressing a third attack, entered with Jumonville upon his duties ashost. Both were graceful, easy, assured, and they fulfilled Robert'sconception of French officers, as men of the world who knew courts andmanners. It was a time when courts were more important than they aretoday, and they were recognized universally as the chief fountains fromwhich flowed honor and advancement.

  Robert did not like them as well as St. Luc, but he found a certaincharm in their company. They could talk of things that interested him,and they exerted themselves, telling indirectly of the glories of Quebecand alluding now and then to the greater splendors of Paris andVersailles. It was a time when the French monarchy loomed as thegreatest power in the world. The hollowness and decay of the House ofBourbon were not yet disclosed, even to the shrewdest observers, and aspell was cast upon all the civilized nations by the gorgeous andglittering world of fashion and the world of arms. The influence reachedeven into the depths of the vast North American wilderness and was feltby Robert as he sat beside the camp fire in the savage woods with theFrenchmen.

  He drank a little of the red wine, but only a very little, and Tayogawould not touch it at all. Willet took a small leather cup of it, butdeclined a second. The food was good, better cooked than it usually wasamong the English colonists, where the table was regarded as anecessity, and in no particular as a rite. Robert, despite his habitualcaution, found his heart warming toward his French hosts. It could notbe possible that the Indians had been set upon his comrades and himselfby the French! The warmth of his heart increased when one of theCanadians took a violin from a cloth cover and began to play wailing oldairs. Like so many others, Robert was not made melancholy by melancholymusic. Instead, he saw through a pleasing glow and the world grew poeticand tender. The fire sank and Americans, French, Canadians and Indianslistened with the same silent interest. Presently the violinist played alivelier tune and the _habitants_ sang to the music:

  "Malbrouck, s'en va t-en guerre Mironton, mironton, mirontaine; Malbrouck s'en va t-en guerre Ne sait quand reviendra."

  Then he left Malbrouck, and it was:

  "Hier sur le pont d'Avignon J'ai oui chanter la belle Lon, la, J'ai oui chanter la belle Elle chantait d'un ton si doux Comme une demoiselle Lon, la, Comme une demoiselle."

  The Canadians sang well, particularly in "The Bridge of Avignon," andthe dying fire, the black woods around them and the sighing wind createdan effect that no stage scenery could ever have given it. When the lastnote melted with the wind de Courcelles sighed a little and stared intothe sinking fire.

  "It is a fair country, sweet France," he said; "I myself have stood uponthe bridge of Avignon, and I have watched the pretty girls. It may bethat I have had a kiss or two, but all that is far away now. This is abolder country than France, Mr. Lennox, larger, more majestic, but it iswild and savage, and will be so for many years to come. Nor can therules that apply to old and civilized Europe apply here, where the deedsof men, like the land, are wilder, too."

  Robert was conscious of some meaning in his words, perhaps a trace ofapology for a deed that he had done or would do, but in the mind ofyoung Lennox men's standards should be the same, whether in thewilderness of New York and Canada or in the open fields of France andEngland. De Courcelles, thoughtful for a moment, turned suddenly to theman with the violin and cried:

  "Play! Play again!"

  The man played quaint old airs, folk songs that had been brought fromNormandy and Brittany, and the _habitants_ sang them in low voices orrather hummed them in the subdued manner that seemed fitting to thenight, since the black shadows were creeping up closer, leaving only thefire, as a core of light with the dusky figures around it. During allthe talk the Indians had been silent. They had eaten their food andremained now, sitting in Turkish fashion, the flickering flames thatplayed across their faces giving to them a look sinister and menacing tothe last degree.

  The Frenchmen, too, fell silent, as if their courtesy was exhausted andconversation had become an effort. The last of the old French airs wasfinished, and the player put his violin away. Jumonville, who had spokenbut little, threw a fresh stick on the fire and looked at the black wallof circling forest.

  "I can never get quite used to it," he said. "The wilderness is soimmense, so menacing that when I am in it at night a little shiver willcome now and then. I suppose our remote ancestors who lived in cavesmust have had fear at their elbows all their lives."

  "Very likely," said de Courcelles, thoughtfully, staring into the coals."It isn't strange that many people have worshiped fire as God. Whyshouldn't they when it brings light in the dark, and lifts up our souls,when it warms us and makes us feel strong, when it cooks our food andwhen in the earlier day it drove away the great wild animals, withwhich man was not able to fight on equal terms?"

  "I am not one to undervalue fire," said Robert.

  "Few of us do in the forest. The night grows chill, but two of our goodCanadians will keep the coals alive until morning. And now I suppose youare weary with your day's travels and wish sleep. I see that you haveblankets of your own or I should offer you some of ours."

  Tayoga had been sitting before the fire, as silent as the CanadianIndians, his rifle across his knees, his eyes turned toward the blaze.The glow of the flames fell upon him, disclosing his lofty countenance,his splendidly molded figure, and his superiority to the other Indians,who were not of the Hodenosaunee and who to him were, therefore, as muchbarbarian
s as all people who were not Greeks were barbarians to theancient Greeks. Not a word of kinship or friendship had passed betweenhim and them. For him, haughty and uncompromising, they did not exist.For a long time his deep unfathomable eyes had never turned from thefire, but now he rose suddenly and said:

  "Someone comes in the forest!"

  De Courcelles looked up in surprise.

  "I hear nothing," he said.

  "Someone comes in the forest!" repeated Tayoga with emphasis.

  De Courcelles glanced at his own Indians. They had not yet moved, but ina moment or two they too rose to their feet, and then he knew that theOnondaga was right. Now Robert also heard a moccasined and lightfootstep approaching. A darker shadow appeared against the darkness, andthe figure of an Indian, gigantic and sinister, stepped within thecircle of the firelight.

  It was Tandakora, the Ojibway.