[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of thefile for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making anentire meal of them. D. W. ]

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

By Gilbert Parker

EPOCH THE SECOND

VII. FRIENDS IN COUNCILVIII. AS SEEN THROUGH A GLASS, DARKLYIX. TO THE PORCH OF THE WORLDX. QUI VIVE!XI. WITH THE STRANGE PEOPLEXII. OUT OF THE NET

CHAPTER VII

FRIENDS IN COUNCIL

Montreal and Quebec, dear to the fortunes of such men as Iberville, wereas cheerful in the still iron winter as any city under any more cordialsky then or now: men loved, hated, made and broke bargains, lied towomen, kept a foolish honour with each other, and did deeds of valour fora song, as ever they did from the beginning of the world. Through thestern soul of Nature ran the temperament of men who had hearts of summer;and if, on a certain notable day in Iberville's life, one could havelooked through the window of a low stone house in Notre Dame Street, Montreal, one could have seen a priest joyously playing a violin; thougheven in Europe, Maggini and Stradivarius were but little known, and theinstrument itself was often called an invention of the devil. 

The room was not ornamented, save by a crucifix, a pleasant pencil-drawing of Bishop Laval, a gun, a pair of snow-shoes, a sword, and alittle shrine in one corner, wherein were relics of a saint. Ofnecessaries even there were few. They were unremarkable, save in thecase of two tall silver candlesticks, which, with their candles at anangle from the musician, gave his face strange lights and shadows. 

The priest was powerfully made; so powerful indeed, so tall was he, thatwhen, in one of the changes of the music, a kind of exaltation filledhim, and he came to his feet, his head almost touched the ceiling. Hisshoulders were broad and strong, and though his limbs were hid by hiscassock, his arms showed almost huge, and the violin lay tucked under hischin like a mere toy. In the eye was a penetrating but abstracted look, and the countenance had the gravity of a priest lighted by a cheerfulsoul within. It had been said of Dollier de Casson that once, attackedby two renegade Frenchmen, he had broken the leg of one and the back ofthe other, and had then picked them up and carried them for miles toshelter and nursing. And it was also declared by the romantic that theman with the broken back recovered, while he with the shattered leg, recovering also, found that his foot, pointing backwards, "made a fool ofhis nose. "

The Abbe de Casson's life had one affection, which had taken theplace of others, now almost lost in the distance of youth, absence, andindifference. For France lay far from Montreal, and the priest-musicianwas infinitely farther off: the miles which the Church measures betweenthe priest and his lay boyhood are not easily reckoned. But such asDollier de Casson must have a field for affection to enrich. You cannotdrive the sap of the tree in upon itself. It must come out or the treemust die-burst with the very misery of its richness. 

This night he was crowding into the music four years of events: ofmemory, hope, pride, patience, and affection. He was waiting for someone whom he had not seen for these four years. Time passed. More andmore did the broad sonorous notes fill the room. At length they ceased, and with a sigh he pressed the violin once, twice, thrice to his lips. 

"My good Stradivarius, " he said, "my pearless one!" Once again he kissedit, and then, drawing his hand across his eyes, he slowly wrapped theviolin in a velvet cloth, put it away in an iron box, and locked it up. But presently he changed his mind, took it out again, and put it on thetable, shaking his head musingly. 

"He will wish to see it, maybe to hear it, " he said half aloud. 

Then he turned and went into another room. Here there was a prie-dieu ina corner, and above it a crucifix. He knelt and was soon absorbed. 

For a time there was silence. At last there was a crunching ofmoccasined feet upon the crisp snow, then a slight tap at the outer door, and immediately it was opened. A stalwart young man stepped inside. Helooked round, pleased, astonished, and glanced at the violin, thenmeaningly towards the nearly closed door of the other room. After whichhe pulled off his gloves, threw his cap down, and with a significant tossof the head, picked up the violin. 

He was a strong, handsome man of about twenty-two, with a face at onceopen and inscrutable: the mouth with a trick of smiling, the eyesfearless, convincing, but having at the same time a look behind this--analert, profound speculation, which gave his face singular force. He wasnot so tall as the priest in the next room, but still he was very tall, and every movement had a lithe, supple strength. His body was so firmthat, as he bent or turned, it seemed as of soft flexible metal. 

Despite his fine manliness, he looked very boylike as he picked up theviolin, and with a silent eager laugh put it under his chin, noddinggaily, as he did so, towards the other room. He bent his cheek to theinstrument--almost as brown as the wood itself--and made a pass or two inthe air with the bow, as if to recall a former touch and tune. Asatisfied look shot up in his face, and then with an almost impossiblesoftness he drew the bow across the strings, getting a distant delicatenote, which seemed to float and tenderly multiply upon itself--avariation, indeed, of the tune which De Casson had played. A rapt lookcame into his eyes. And all that look behind the general look of hisface--the look which has to do with a man's past or future--deepened andspread, till you saw, for once in a way, a strong soldier turned artist, yet only what was masculine and strong. The music deepened also, and, asthe priest opened the door, swept against him like a wind so warm that amoisture came to his eyes. "Iberville!" he said, in a glad voice. "Pierre!"

The violin was down on the instant. "My dear abbe!" he cried. And thenthe two embraced. 

"How do you like my entrance?" said the young man. "But I had toprovide my own music!" He laughed, and ran his hands affectionately downthe arms of the priest. 

"I had been playing the same old chansonette--"

"With your original variations?"

"With my poor variations, just before you came in; and that done--"

"Yes, yes, abbe, I know the rest: prayers for the safe return of thesailor, who for four years or nearly has been learning war in KingLouis's ships, and forgetting the good old way of fighting by land, atwhich he once served his prentice time--with your blessing, my old tutor, my good fighting abbe! Do you remember when we stopped those Dutchmen onthe Richelieu, and you--"

The priest interrupted with a laugh. "But, my dear Iberville--"

"It was 'Pierre' a minute gone; 'twill be 'Monsieur Pierre le Moyne ofIberville' next, " the other said in mock reproach, as he went to thefire. 

"No, no; I merely--"

"I understand. Pardon the wild youth who plagues his old friend andteacher, as he did long ago--so much has happened since. "

His face became grave and a look of trouble came. Presently the priestsaid: "I never had a pupil whose teasing was so pleasant, poor humouristthat I am. But now, Pierre, tell me all, while I lay out what the pantryholds. "

The gay look came back into Iberville's face. "Ahem, " he said--"which isthe way to begin a wonderful story: Once upon a time a young man, longingto fight for his king by land alone, and with special fighting of his ownto do hard by"--(here De Casson looked at him keenly and a singular lightcame into his eyes)--"was wheedled away upon the king's ships to France, and so

 'Left the song of the spinning-wheel, The hawk and the lady fair, And sailed away--'

But the song is old and so is the story, abbe; so here's the brief noteof it. After years of play and work, --play in France and stout work inthe Spaniards' country, --he was shipped away to

 'Those battle heights, Quebec heights, our own heights, The citadel our golden lily bears, And Frontenac--'

But I babble again. And at Quebec he finds the old song changed. Theheights and the lilies are there, but Frontenac, the great, braveFrontenac, is gone: confusion lives where only conquest and honestquarrelling were--"

"Frontenac will return--there is no other way!" interposed De Casson. 

"Perhaps. And the young man looked round and lo! old faces and placeshad changed. Children had grown into women, with children at theirbreasts; young wives had become matronly; and the middle-aged wereslaving servants and apothecaries to make them young again. And theyoung man turned from the world he used to know, and said: 'There are butthree things in the world worth doing--loving, roaming, and fighting. 'Therefore, after one day, he turned from the poor little Court-game atQuebec, travelled to Montreal, spent a few hours with his father and hisbrothers, Bienville, Longueil, Maricourt, and Sainte-Helene, and then, having sent word to his dearest friend, came to see him, and found him--his voice got softer--the same as of old: ready with music and wineand aves for the prodigal. "

He paused. The priest had placed meat and wine on the table, and now hecame and put his hand on Iberville's shoulder. "Pierre, " he said, "Iwelcome you as one brother might another, the elder foolishly fond. "Then he added: "I was glad you remembered our music. "

"My dear De Casson, as if I could forget! I have yet the Maggini yougave me. It was of the things for remembering. If we can't be loyalto our first loves, why to anything?"

"Even so, Pierre; but few at your age arrive at that. Most people learnit when they have bartered away every dream. It is enough to have a fewhonest emotions--very few--and stand by them till all be done. "

"Even hating?" Iberville's eyes were eager. 

"There is such a thing as a noble hate. "

"How every inch of you is man!" answered the other, clasping thepriest's arms. Then he added: "Abbe, you know what I long to hear. Youhave been to New York twice; you were there within these three months--"

"And was asked to leave within these three months--banished, as it were. "

"I know. You said in your letter that you had news. You were kind togo--"

"Perrot went too. "

"My faithful Perrot! I was about to ask of him. I had a birch-barkletter from him, and he said he would come--Ah, here he is!"

He listened. There was a man's voice singing near by. They could evenhear the words:

 "'O the young seigneur! O the young seigneur! A hundred bucks in a day he slew; And the lady gave him a ribbon to wear, And a shred of gold from her golden hair O the way of a maid was the way he knew; O the young seigneur! O the young seigneur!'"

"Shall we speak freely before him?" said the priest. "As freely as youwill. Perrot is true. He was with me, too, at the beginning. "

At that moment there came a knock, and in an instant the coureur du boishad caught the hands of the young man, and was laughing up in his face. 

"By the good Sainte Anne, but you make Nick Perrot a dwarf, dearmonsieur!"

"Well, well, little man, I'll wager neither the great abbe here normyself could bring you lower than you stand, for all that. Comrade, 'tiskind of you to come so prompt. "

"What is there so good as the face of an old friend!" said Perrot, witha little laugh. "You will drink with a new, and eat with a comingfriend, and quarrel with either; but 'tis only the old friend that knowsthe old trail, and there's nothing to a man like the way he has come inthe world. "

"The trail of the good comrade, " said the priest softly. 

"Ah!" responded Perrot, "I remember, abbe, when we were at the Portneufyou made some verses of that--eh! eh! but they were good!"

"No fitter time, " said Iberville; "come, abbe, the verses!"

"No, no; another day, " answered the priest. 

It was an interesting scene. Perrot, short, broad, swarthy, dressed inrude buckskin gaudily ornamented, bandoleer and belt garnished withsilver, --a recent gift of some grateful merchant, standing between thepowerful black-robed priest and this gallant sailor-soldier, richlydressed in fine skins and furs, with long waving hair, more like a Vikingthan a man of fashion, and carrying a courtly and yet sportive look, asthough he could laugh at the miseries of the sinful world. Three strangecomrades were these, who knew each other so far as one man can knowanother, yet each knowing from a different stand-point. Perrot knewcertain traits of Iberville of which De Casson was ignorant, and the abbeknew many depths which Perrot never even vaguely plumbed. And yet allcould meet and be free in speech, as though each read the otherthoroughly. 

"Let us begin, " said Iberville. "I want news of New York. "

"Let us eat as we talk, " urged the abbe. 

They all sat and were soon eating and drinking with great relish. 

Presently the abbe began:

"Of my first journey you know by the letter I sent you: how I found thatMademoiselle Leveret was gone to England with her father. That was ayear after you left, now about three years gone. Monsieur Gering enteredthe navy of the English king, and went to England also. "

Iberville nodded. "Yes, yes, in the English navy I know very well ofthat. "

The abbe looked up surprised. "From my letter?"

"I saw him once in the Spaniards' country, " said Iberville, "when weswore to love each other less and less. "

"What was the trouble?" asked the priest. 

"Pirates' booty, which he, with a large force, seized as a few of my menwere carrying it to the coast. With his own hand he cut down my servant, who had been with me since from the first. Afterwards in a parley I sawhim, and we exchanged--compliments. The sordid gentleman thought I wasfretting about the booty. Good God, what are some thousand pistoles tothe blood of one honest friend!"

"And in your mind another leaven worked, " ventured the priest. 

"Another leaven, as you say, " responded Iberville. "So, for your story, abbe. "

"Of the first journey there is nothing more to tell, save that theEnglish governor said you were as brave a gentleman as ever playedambassador--which was, you remember, much in Count Frontenac's vein. "

Iberville nodded and smiled. "Frontenac railed at my impertinence also. "

"But gave you a sword when you told him the news of Radisson, "interjected Perrot. "And by and by I've things to say of him. "

The abbe continued: "For my second visit, but a few months ago. Wepriests have gone much among the Iroquois, even in the English country, and, as I promised you, I went to New York. There I was summoned to thegovernor. He commanded me to go back to Quebec. I was about to ask himof Mademoiselle when there came a tap at the door. The governor lookedat me a little sharply. 'You are, ' said he, 'a friend of MonsieurIberville. You shall know one who keeps him in remembrance. ' Then helet the lady enter. She had heard that I was there, having seen Perrotfirst. "

Here Perrot, with a chuckle, broke in: "I chanced that way, and I had awish to see what was for seeing; for here was our good abbe alone amongthe wolves, and there were Radisson and the immortal Bucklaw, of whomthere was news. "

De Casson still continued: "When I was presented she took my hand andsaid: 'Monsieur l'Abbe, I am glad to meet a friend--an old friend--ofMonsieur Iberville. I hear that he has been in France and elsewhere. '"

Here the abbe paused, smiling as if in retrospect, and kept looking intothe fire and turning about in his hand his cassock-cord. 

Iberville had sat very still, his face ruled to quietness; only his eyesshowing the great interest he felt. He waited, and presently said: "Yes, and then?"

The abbe withdrew his eyes from the fire and turned them upon Iberville. 

"And then, " he said, "the governor left the room. When he had gone shecame to me, and, laying her hand upon my arm, said: 'Monsieur, I know youare to be trusted. You are the friend of a brave man. '"

The abbe paused, and smiled over at Iberville. "You see, " he said, "hertrust was in your friend, not in my office. Well, presently she added:'I know that Monsieur Iberville and Mr. Gering, for a foolish quarrel ofyears ago, still are cherished foes. I wish your help to make them bothhappier; for no man can be happy and hate. ' And I gave my word to doso. " Here Perrot chuckled to himself and interjected softly: "Mon Dieu!she could make a man say anything at all. I would have sworn to her thatwhile I lived I never should fight. Eh, that's so!"

"Allons!" said Iberville impatiently, yet grasping the arm of thewoodsman kindly. 

The abbe once more went on: "When she had ended questioning I said toher: 'And what message shall I give from you?' 'Tell him, ' she answered, 'by the right of lifelong debt I ask for peace. ' 'Is that all?' said I. 'Tell him, ' she added, 'I hope we may meet again. ' 'For whose sake, 'said I, 'do you ask for peace?' 'I am a woman, ' she answered, 'I amselfish--for my own sake. '"

Again the priest paused, and again Iberville urged him. 

"I asked if she had no token. There was a flame in her eye, and shebegged me to excuse her. When she came back she handed me a littlepacket. 'Give it to Monsieur Iberville, ' she said, 'for it is his. Helent it to me years ago. No doubt he has forgotten. '"

At that the priest drew from his cassock a tiny packet, and Iberville, taking, opened it. It held a silver buckle tied by a velvet ribbon. Aflush crept slowly up Iberville's face from his chin to his hair, then hesighed, and presently, out of all reason, laughed. 

"Indeed, yes; it is mine, " he said. "I very well remember when I foundit. "

Here Perrot spoke. "I very well remember, monsieur, when she took itfrom your doublet; but it was on a slipper then. "

Iberville did not answer, but held the buckle, rubbing it on his sleeveas though to brighten it. "So much for the lady, " he said at last; "whatmore?"

"I learned, " answered the abbe, "that Monsieur Gering was in Boston, andthat he was to go to Fort Albany at Hudson's Bay, where, on ourterritory, the English have set forts. "

Here Perrot spoke. "Do you know, monsieur, who are the poachers? No?Eh? No? Well, it is that Radisson. "

Iberville turned sharply upon Perrot. "Are you sure of that?" he said. "Are you sure, Nick?"

"As sure as I've a head. And I will tell you more: Radisson was withBucklaw at the kidnapping. I had the pleasure to kill a fellow ofBucklaw, and he told me that before he died. He also told how Bucklawwent with Radisson to the Spaniards' country treasure-hunting. Ah!there are many fools in the world. They did not get the treasure. Theyquarreled, and Radisson went to the far north, Bucklaw to the far south. The treasure is where it was. Eh bien, such is the way of asses. "

Iberville was about to speak. 

"But wait, " said Perrot, with a slow, tantalising smile; "it is not wiseto hurry. I have a mind to know; so while I am at New York I go toBoston. It makes a man's mind great to travel. I have been east toBoston; I have been west beyond the Ottawa and the Michilimackinac, outto the Mississippi. Yes. Well, what did I find in Boston? Peste! Ifound that they were all like men in purgatory--sober and grave. Truly. And so dull! Never a saint-day, never a feast, never a grand councilwhen the wine, the rum, flow so free, and you shall eat till you choke. Nothing. Everything is stupid; they do not smile. And so the Indiansmake war! Well, I have found this. There is a great man from theKennebec called William Phips. He has traded in the Indies. Once whilehe was there he heard of that treasure. Ha! ha! There have been somany fools on that trail. The governor of New York was a fool whenBucklaw played his game; he would have been a greater if he had gonewith Bucklaw. "

Here Iberville would have spoken, but Perrot waved his hand. "De grace, a minute only. Monsieur Gering, the brave English lieutenant, is atHudson's Bay, and next summer he will go with the great William Phips--Tonnerre, what a name--William Phips! Like a pot of herring! He will gowith him after the same old treasure. Boston is a big place, but I hearthese things. "

Usually a man of few words, Perrot had bursts of eloquence, and this wasone of them. But having made his speech, he settled back to his tobaccoand into the orator's earned repose. 

Iberville looked up from the fire and said: "Perrot, you saw her in NewYork. What speech was there between you?"

Perrot's eyes twinkled. "There was not much said. 

"I put myself in her way. When she saw me her cheek came like a peach-blossom. 'A very good morning, ma'm'selle, ' said I, in English. Shesmiled and said the same. 'And your master, where is he?' she askedwith a fine smile. 'My friend Monsieur Iberville?' I said; 'ah! he willbe in Quebec soon. ' Then I told her of the abbe, and she took from achain a little medallion and gave it me in memory of the time we saved. Her. And before I could say Thank you, she had gone--Well, that is all--except this. "

He drew from his breast a chain of silver, from which hung the goldmedallion, and shook his head at it with good-humour. But presently ahard look came on his face, and he was changed from the cheerful woodsmaninto the chief of bushrangers. Iberville read the look, and presentlysaid:

"Perrot, men have fought for less than gold from a woman's chain and abuckle from her shoe. "

"I have fought from Trois Pistoles to Michilimackinac for the toss of alouis-d'or. "

"As you say. Well, what think you--"

He paused, rose, walked up and down the room, caught his moustachebetween his teeth once or twice, and seemed buried in thought. Once ortwice he was about to speak, but changed his mind. He was calculatingmany things: planning, counting chances, marshalling his resources. Presently he glanced round the room. His eyes fell on a map. Thatwas it. It was a mere outline, but enough. Putting his finger on it, he sent it up, up, up, till it settled on the shores of Hudson's Bay. Again he ran the finger from the St. Lawrence up the coast and throughHudson's Straits, but shook his head in negation. Then he stood, lookedat the map steadily, and presently, still absorbed, turned to the table. He saw the violin, picked it up, and handed it to De Casson:

"Something with a smack of war, " he said. "And a woman for me, " addedPerrot. 

The abbe shook his head musingly at Perrot, took the violin, and gatheredit to his chin. At first he played as if in wait of something thateluded him. But all at once he floated into a powerful melody, as astream creeps softly through a weir, and after many wanderings broadenssuddenly into a great stream. He had found his theme. Its effect wasstriking. Through Iberville's mind there ran a hundred incidents of hislife, one chasing upon the other without sequence--phantasmagoria out ofthe scene--house of memory:

The light upon the arms of De Tracy's soldiers when they marched upMountain Street many years before--The frozen figure of a man standingupright in the plains--A procession of canoes winding down past TwoMountains, the wild chant of the Indians joining with the romantic songsof the voyageurs--A girl flashing upon the drawn swords of two lads--KingLouis giving his hand to one of these lads to kiss--A lady of the Courtfor whom he might easily have torn his soul to rags, but for a fair-facedEnglish girl, ever like a delicate medallion in his eye--A fight with theEnglish in the Spaniards' country--His father blessing him as he wentforth to France--A dark figure taking a hundred shapes, and yet alwaysmeaning the same as when he--Iberville--said over the governor's table inNew York, "Foolish boy!"--A vast stretch of lonely forest, in the whitecoverlet of winter, through which sounded now and then the boom-boom of abursting tree--A few score men upon a desolate northern track, silent, desperate, courageous; a forlorn hope on the edge of the Arctic circle, with the joy of conquest in their bones, and at their thighs the swordsof men. 

These are a few of the pictures, but the last of them had not to do withthe past: a dream grown into a fact, shaped by the music, become at oncean emotion and a purpose. 

Iberville had now driven home the first tent-peg of a wonderfuladventure. Under the spell of that music his body seemed to grow larger. He fingered his sword, and presently caught Perrot by the shoulder andsaid "We will do it, Perrot. "

Perrot got to his feet. He understood. He nodded and seized Iberville'shand. "Bravo! There was nothing else to do, " he replied. 

De Casson lowered his violin. "What do you intend?" he asked gravely. 

Iberville took his great hand and pressed it. "To do what you willcommend, abbe: at Hudson's Bay to win back forts the English have taken, and get those they have built. "

"You have another purpose, " added De Casson softly. 

"Abbe, that is between me and my conscience. I go for my king andcountry against our foes. "

"Who will go with you? You will lead?"

"Not I to lead--that involves me. " Iberville's face darkened. "I wishmore freedom, but still to lead in fact. "

"But who will lead? And who will go?"

"De Troyes, perhaps, to lead. To go, my brothers Sainte-Helene andMaricourt, Perrot and a stout company of his men; and then I fear nottreble as many English. "

The priest did not seem satisfied. Presently Iberville, with a winningsmile, ran an arm over his shoulder and added: "We cannot go without you, Dollier. "

The priest's face cleared, and a moment afterwards the three comradesshook hands together. 

CHAPTER VIII

AS SEEN THROUGH A GLASS, DARKLY

When King Louis and King James called for peace, they could not knowthat it was as little possible to their two colonies as between rivalbuccaneers. New France was full of bold spirits who loved conquest forconquest's sake. Besides, in this case there was a force at work, generally unknown, but as powerful as the convincing influence of anarmy. Behind the worst and the best acts of Charles II was a woman. Behind the glories and follies of Louis XIV was also a woman. Behindsome of the most striking incidents in the history of New France, NewEngland, and New York, was a woman. 

We saw her when she was but a child--the centre of singular events. Years had passed. Not one of those events had gone for nothing;each was bearing fruit after its kind. 

She is sitting alone in a room of a large unhandsome house, facing onBoston harbour. It is evening. The room itself is of dark wood, andevening has thrown it into gloom. Yet somehow the girl's face has alight of its own. She is turned fair towards the window, and is lookingout to sea. A mist is rising from the water, and the shore is growinggrey and heavy as the light in the west recedes and night creeps in fromthe ocean. She watches the waves and the mist till all is mist without;a scene which she had watched, how often she could not count. The nightcloses in entirely upon her, but she does not move. At last the door ofthe room opens and some one enters and closes it again. "My daughter!"says an anxious voice. "Are you here, Jessica?"

"I am here, father, " is the reply. "Shall we have lights?"

"As you will. "

Even as they speak a servant enters, and lighted candles are put upon thetable. They are alone again. Both are pale. The girl stands verystill, and so quiet is her face, one could never guess that she ispassing, through the tragic moment of her life. 

"What is your answer, Jessica?" he asks. "I will marry him when hecomes back. "

"Thank God!" is the old man's acknowledgment. "You have saved ourfortunes. "

The girl sighs, and then, with a little touch of that demure irony whichwe had seen in her years before, says: "I trust we have not lost ourhonour. "

"Why, you love him, do you not? There is no one you care for more thanGeorge Gering?"

"I suppose not, " is her reply, but the tone is enigmatical. 

While this scene is on, another appears in Cheapside, London. A manof bold and vigorous bearing comes from the office of a well-knownsolicitor. That very morning he had had an interview with the King, andhad been reminded with more exactness than kindness that he had cost KingCharles a ship, scores of men, and thousands of pounds, in a fruitlesssearch for buried treasure in Hispaniola. When he had urged his caseupon the basis of fresh information, he was drily told that the securitywas too scant, even for a king. He had then pleaded his case to the Dukeof Albemarle and other distinguished gentlemen. They were seeminglyconvinced, but withheld their answer till the following morning. 

But William Phips, stubborn adventurer, destined to receive all sorts ofhonours in his time, has no intention of quitting London till he has hisway; and this is his thought as he steps into Cheapside, having alreadymade preparations upon the chance of success. He has gone so far as topurchase a ship, called the Bridgwater Merchant from an alderman inLondon, though he has not a hundred guineas at his disposal. As hestands debating, a hand touches his arm and a voice says in his ear:"You were within a mile of it with the Atgier Rose, two years ago. "

The great adventurer turns. "The devil I was! And who are you?"

Satanic humour plays in the stranger's eyes as he answers: "I am EdwardBucklaw, pirate and keeper of the treasure-house in the La Planta River. "

"Blood of Judas, " Phips says, "how dare you speak to me? I'll have youin yon prison for an unhung rascal!"

"Ah! you are a great man, " is the unmoved reply. "I knew you'd feelthat way. But if you'll listen for five minutes, down here at the Bull-and-Daisy, there shall be peace between us. "

An hour later, Phips, following Bucklaw's instructions, is tracing on amap the true location of the lost galleon's treasure. 

"Then, " says Bucklaw, "we are comrades?"

"We are adventurers. "

Another scene. In a northern inland sea two men are standing on the deckof a ship: the one stalwart, clear-eyed, with a touch of strong reservein face and manner; the other of middle height, with sinister look. Theformer is looking out silently upon the great locked hummocks of icesurrounding the vessel. It is the early morning. The sun is shiningwith that hard brightness only seen in the Arctic world--keen as silver, cold as steel. It plays upon the hummocks, and they send out shafts oflight at fantastic angles, and a thin blue line runs between the almostunbearable general radiance and the sea of ice stretching indefinitelyaway. But to the west is a shore, and on it stands a fort and a fewdetached houses. Upon the walls of the fort are some guns, and theBritish flag is flying above. Beyond these again are the plains of thenorth--the home of the elk, musk-ox, silver fox, the white bear and thelonely races of the Pole. Here and there, in the south-west, an islandof pines breaks the monotony, but to the north there is only the whitesilence, the terrible and yet beautiful trail of the Arctic. 

The smaller man stands swinging his arms for warmth; the smack of theleather in the clear air like the report of a gun. Presently, stoppinghis exercise, he says:

"Well, monsieur, what do you say?"

Slowly the young man withdraws his eyes from the scene and turns. 

"Radisson, " he says, "this is much the same story as Bucklaw toldGovernor Nicholls. How come you to know of it?"

"You remember, I was proclaimed four years ago? Well, afterwards I fellin with Bucklaw. I sailed with him to the Spaniards' country, and wemight have got the treasure, but we quarreled; there was a fight, andI--well, we end. Bucklaw was captured by the French and was carried toFrance. He was a fool to look for the treasure with a poor ship and aworse crew. He was for getting William Phips, a man of Boston, to workwith him, for Phips had got something of the secret from an old sailor, but when he would have got him, Phips was on his way with a ship of KingCharles. I will tell you something more. ' Mademoiselle Leveret's--"

"What do you know of Mademoiselle Leveret?"

"A little. Mademoiselle's father lost much money in Phips's expedition. "

"How know you that?"

"I have ears. You have promised to go with Phips. Isn't that so?"

"What then?"

"I will go with you. "

"Booty?"

"No, revenge. "

"On whom?"

"The man you hate--Iberville. "

Gering's face darkens. "We are not likely to meet. "

"Pardon! very likely. Six months ago he was coming back from France. He will find you. I know the race. "

A sneer is on Gering's face. "Freebooters, outlaws like yourself!"

"Pardon! gentlemen, monsieur; noble outlaws. What is it that once ortwice they have quarreled with the governor, and because they would notyield have been proclaimed? Nothing. Proclaimed yesterday, today atCourt. No, no. I hate Iberville, but he is a great man. "

In the veins of the renegade is still latent the pride of race. He is avillain but he knows the height from which he fell. "He will find you, monsieur, " he repeats. "When Le Moyne is the hunter he never will kenneltill the end. Besides, there is the lady!"

"Silence!"

Radisson knows that he has said too much. His manner changes. "You willlet me go with you?" The Englishman remembers that this scoundrel waswith Bucklaw, although he does not know that Radisson was one of theabductors. 

"Never!" he says, and turns upon his heel. 

A moment after and the two have disappeared from the lonely pageant ofice and sun. Man has disappeared, but his works--houses and ships andwalls and snow-topped cannon--lie there in the hard grasp of the North, while the White Weaver, at the summit of the world, is shuttling theselives into the woof of battle, murder, and sudden death. 

On the shore of the La Planta River a man lies looking into the sunset. So sweet, so beautiful is the landscape, the deep foliage, the scent offlowers, the flutter of bright-winged birds, the fern-grown walls of aruined town, the wallowing eloquence of the river, the sonorous din ofthe locust, that none could think this a couch of death. A Spanishpriest is making ready for that last long voyage, when the soul of mansloughs the dross of earth. Beside him kneels another priest--aFrenchman of the same order. 

The dying man feebly takes from his breast a packet and hands it to hisfriend. 

"It is as I have said, " he whispers. "Others may guess, but I know. I know--and another. The rest are all dead. There were six of us, andall were killed save myself. We were poisoned by a Spaniard. He thoughthe had killed all, but I lived. He also was killed. His murderer's namewas Bucklaw--an English pirate. He has the secret. Once he came with aship to find, but there was trouble and he did not go on. An Englishmanalso came with the king's ship, but he did not find. But I know that theman Bucklaw will come again. It should not be. Listen: A year ago, andsomething more, I was travelling to the coast. From there I was to sailfor Spain. I had lost the chart of the river then. I was taken ill andI should have died, but a young French officer stayed his men beside meand cared for me, and had me carried to the coast, where I recovered. Idid not go to Spain, and I found the chart of the river again. "

There is a pause, in which the deep breathing of the dying man mingleswith the low wash of the river, and presently he speaks again. "I vowedthen that he should know. As God is our Father, swear that you will givethis packet to himself only. "

The priest, in reply, lifts the crucifix from the dying man's breast andputs his lips to it. The world seems not to know, so cheerful is it all, that, with a sob, that sob of farewell which the soul gives the body, --the spirit of a man is passing the mile-posts called Life, Time, andEternity. 

Yet another glance into passing incidents before we follow the straighttrail of our story. In the city of Montreal fourscore men are kneelingin a little church, as the mass is slowly chanted at the altar. All ofthem are armed. By the flare of the torches and the candles--for it isnot daybreak yet--you can see the flash of a scabbard, the glint of aknife, and the sheen of a bandoleer. 

Presently, from among them, one man rises, goes to the steps of thesanctuary and kneels. He is the leader of the expedition, the Chevalierde Troyes, the chosen of the governor. A moment, and three other menrise and come and kneel beside him. These are three brothers, and one weknow--gallant, imperious, cordial, having the superior ease of thecourtier. 

The four receive a blessing from a massive, handsome priest, whose face, as it bends over Iberville, suddenly flushes with feeling. Presently theothers rise, but Iberville remains an instant longer, as if loth toleave. The priest whispers to him: "Be strong, be just, be merciful. "

The young man lifts his eyes to the priest's: "I will be just, abbe!"

Then the priest makes the sacred gesture over him. 

CHAPTER IX

TO THE PORCH OF THE WORLD

The English colonies never had a race of woodsmen like the coureurs dubois of New France. These were a strange mixture: French peasants, half-breeds, Canadian-born Frenchmen, gentlemen of birth with lives andfortunes gone askew, and many of the native Canadian noblesse, who, likethe nobles of France, forbidden to become merchants, became adventurerswith the coureurs du bois, who were ever with them in spirit more thanwith the merchant. The peasant prefers the gentleman to the bourgeois ashis companion. Many a coureur du bois divided his tale of furs with adistressed noble or seigneur, who dare not work in the fields. 

The veteran Charles le Moyne, with his sons, each of whom played a daringand important part in the history of New France, --Iberville greatest, --was one of the few merchants in whom was combined the trader and thenoble. But he was a trader by profession before he became a seigneur. In his veins was a strain of noble blood; but leaving France and settlingin Canada, he avoided the little Court at Quebec, went to Montreal, andthere began to lay the foundation of his fame and fortune, and to sendforth men who were as the sons of Jacob. In his heart he was always insympathy with the woodsmen, and when they were proclaimed as perilous tothe peace and prosperity of the king's empire, he stood stoutly by them. Adventurers, they traded as they listed; and when the Intendant Duchesnaucould not bend them to his greedy will, they were to be caught and hangedwherever found. King Louis hardly guessed that to carry out that orderwould be to reduce greatly the list of his Canadian noblesse. It strucka blow at the men who, in one of the letters which the grim Frontenacsent to Versailles not long before his death, were rightly called "TheKing's Traders"--more truly such than any others in New France. 

Whether or not the old seigneur knew it at the time, three of his ownsons were among the coureurs du bois--chieftains by courtesy--when theywere proclaimed. And it was like Iberville, that, then only a lad, hecame in from the woods, went to his father, and astonished him by askingfor his blessing. Then he started for Quebec, and arriving there withPerrot and Du Lhut, went to the citadel at night and asked to be admittedto Count Frontenac. Perhaps the governor-grand half-barbarian as he wasat heart-guessed the nature of the visit and, before he admittedIberville, dismissed those who were with him. There is in an old letterstill preserved by an ancient family of France, an account of thisinterview, told by a cynical young nobleman. Iberville alone wasadmitted. His excellency greeted his young visitor courteously, yet with hauteur. 

"You bring strange comrades to visit your governor, Monsieur Iberville, "he said. 

"Comrades in peace, your excellency, comrades in war. "

"What war?"

"The king makes war against the coureurs du bois. There is a price onthe heads of Perrot and Du Lhut. We are all in the same boat. "

"You speak in riddles, sir. "

"I speak of riddles. Perrot and Du Lhut are good friends of the king. They have helped your excellency with the Indians a hundred times. Theirmen have been a little roystering, but that's no sin. I am one withthem, and I am as good a subject as the king has. "

"Why have you come here?"

"To give myself up. If you shoot Perrot or Du Lhut you will have toshoot me; and, if you carry on the matter, your excellency will not haveenough gentlemen to play Tartufe. "

This last remark referred to a quarrel which Frontenac had had with thebishop, who inveighed against the governor's intention of producingTartufe at the chateau. 

Iberville's daring was quite as remarkable as the position in which hehad placed himself. With a lesser man than Frontenac it might have endedbadly. But himself, courtier as he was, had ever used heroical methods, and appreciated the reckless courage of youth. With grim humour he putall three under arrest, made them sup with him, and sent them awaysecretly before morning--free. Before Iberville left, the governor hadword with him alone. 

"Monsieur, " he said, "you have a keen tongue, but our king needs keenswords, and since you have the advantage of me in this, I shall take careyou pay the bill. We have had enough of outlawry. You shall fight byrule and measure soon. "

"In your excellency's bodyguard, I hope, " was the instant reply. 

"In the king's navy, " answered Frontenac, with a smile, for he waspleased with the frank flattery. 

A career different from that of George Gering, who, brought up withPuritans, had early learned to take life seriously, had little ofIberville's gay spirit, but was just such a determined, self-consciousEnglishman as any one could trust and admire, and none but an Englishmanlove. 

And Jessica Leveret? Wherever she had been during the past four years, she had stood between these two men, regardful, wondering, waiting; andat last, as we know, casting the die against the enemy of her country. But was it cast after all?

Immediately after she made a certain solemn promise, recorded in the lastchapter, she went once again to New York to visit Governor Nicholls. Shehad been there some months before, but it was only for a few weeks, andthen she had met Dollier de Casson and Perrot. That her mind wasinfluenced by memory of Iberville we may guess, but in what fashionwho can say? It is not in mortal man to resolve the fancies of a woman, or interpret the shadowy inclinations, the timid revulsions, which movethem--they cannot tell why, any more than we. They would indeed bethankful to be solved unto themselves. The great moment for a man with awoman is when, by some clear guess or some special providence, he showsher in a flash her own mind. Her respect, her serious wonder, are allthen making for his glory. Wise and happy if by a further touch ofgenius he seizes the situation: henceforth he is her master. GeorgeGering and Jessica had been children together, and he understood her, perhaps, as, did no one else, save her father; though he never made gooduse of his knowledge, nor did he touch that side of her which was purelyfeminine--her sweet inconsistency; therefore, he was not her master. 

But he had appealed to her, for he had courage, strong, ambition, thorough kindness, and fine character, only marred by a want oftemperament. She had avoided as long as she could the question which, on his return from service in the navy, he asked her, almost withoutwarning; and with a touch of her old demureness and gaiety she had puthim off, bidding him go win his laurels as commander. He was thencommissioned for Hudson's Bay, and expected, on his return, to proceedto the Spaniards' country with William Phips, if that brave gentlemansucceeded with the king or his nobles. He had gone north with his ship, and, as we have seen, when Iberville started on that almost impossiblejourney, was preparing to return to Boston. As he waited Iberville cameon. 

CHAPTER X

QUI VIVE!

From Land's End to John O' Groat's is a long tramp, but that fromMontreal to Hudson's Bay is far longer, and yet many have made it; more, however, in the days of which we are writing than now, and with greaterhardships also then. But weighed against the greater hardships there wasa bolder temper and a more romantic spirit. 

How strange and severe a journey it was, only those can tell who havetravelled those wastes, even in these later days, when paths have beenbeaten down from Mount Royal to the lodges of the North. When theystarted, the ice had not yet all left the Ottawa River, and they woundtheir way through crowding floes, or portaged here and there for miles, the eager sun of spring above with scarcely a cloud to trail behind him. At last the river cleared, and for leagues they travelled to the north-west, and came at last to the Lake of the Winds. They travelled acrossone corner of it, to a point where they would strike an unknown path toHudson's Bay. 

Iberville had never before seen this lake, and, with all his knowledge ofgreat proportions, he was not prepared for its splendid vastness. Theycame upon it in the evening, and camped beside it. They watched the sunspread out his banners, presently veil his head in them, and sink belowthe world. And between them and that sunset was a vast rock stretchingout from a ponderous shore--a colossal stone lion, resting Sphinxlike, keeping its faith with the ages. Alone, the warder of the West, stormy, menacing, even the vernal sun could give it little cheerfulness. But toIberville and his followers it brought no gloom at night, nor yet in themorning when all was changed, and a soft silver mist hung over the "greatwater, " like dissolving dew, through which the sunlight came with astrange, solemn delicacy. Upon the shore were bustle, cheerfulness, andsong, until every canoe was launched, and then the band of warriors gotin, and presently were away in the haze. 

The long bark canoes, with lofty prows, stained with powerful dyes, slidalong this path swiftly, the paddles noiselessly cleaving the water withthe precision of a pendulum. One followed the other with a spacebetween, so that Iberville, in the first, looking back, could see adiminishing procession, the last seeming large and weird--almost ashadow--as it were a part of the weird atmosphere. On either side wasthat soft plumbless diffusion, and ahead the secret of untravelled wildsand the fortunes of war. 

As if by common instinct, all gossip ceased soon after they leftthe shore, and, cheerful as was the French Canadian, he was--and is--superstitious. He saw sermons in stones, books in the running brooks, and the supernatural in everything. Simple, hardy, occasionally bloody, he was ever on the watch for signs and wonders, and a phase of natureinfluenced him after the manner of a being with a temperament. Often, assome of the woodsmen and river-men had seen this strange effect, they nowmade the sacred gesture as they ran on. The pure moisture lay like afine exudation on their brown skins, glistened on their black hair, andhung from their beards, giving them a mysterious look. The colours oftheir canoes and clothes were softened by the dim air and long use, andthere seemed to accompany each boat and each person an atmosphere withinthis other haze, a spiritual kind of exhalation; so that one might havethought them, with the crucifixes on their breasts, and that unworldly, distinguished look which comes to those who live much with nature, assons of men going upon such mission as did they who went into the farland with Arthur. 

But the silence could not be maintained for long. The first flush of theimpression gone, these half-barbarians, with the simple hearts ofchildren, must rise from the almost melancholy, somewhat religious mood, into which they had been cast. As Iberville, with Sainte-Helene andPerrot, sat watching the canoes that followed, with voyageurs erect inbow and stern, a voice in the next canoe, with a half-chantingmodulation, began a song of the wild-life. Voice after voice slowly tookit up, until it ran along the whole procession. A verse was sung, then achorus altogether, then a refrain of one verse which was sung by eachboat in succession to the last. As the refrain of this was sung by thelast boat it seemed to come out of the great haze behind. Verses of theold song are still preserved:

 "Qui vive! Who is it cries in the dawn Cries when the stars go down? Who is it comes through the mist The mist that is fine like lawn, The mist like an angel's gown? Who is it comes in the dawn? Qui vive! Qui vive! in the dawn. 

 "Qui rive! Who is it passeth us by, Still in the dawn and the mist? Tall seigneur of the dawn: A two-edged sword at his thigh, A shield of gold at his wrist: Who is it hurrieth by? Qui vive! Qui vive! in the dawn. "

Under the influence of this beautiful mystery of the dawn, the slowthrilling song, and the strange, happy loneliness--as though they were inthe wash between two worlds, Iberville got the great inspiration of hislife. He would be a discoverer, the faithful captain of his king, atrader in provinces. . . . And in that he kept his word--years after, but he kept it. There came with this, what always comes to a man ofgreat ideas: the woman who should share his prowess. Such a man, ifforced to choose between the woman and the idea, will ever decide forthe woman after he has married her, sacrificing what--however much hehides it--lies behind all. But he alone knows what he has sacrificed. For it is in the order of things that the great man shall be first themaker of kingdoms and homes, and then the husband of his wife and abegetter of children. Iberville knew that this woman was not more to himthan the feeling just come to him, but he knew also that while the oneremained the other would also. 

He stood up and folded his arms, looking into the silence and mist. Hishand mechanically dropped to his sword, and he glanced up proudly to thesilver flag with its golden lilies floating softly on the slight breezethey made as they passed. 

"The sword!" he said under his breath. "The world and a woman by thesword; there is no other way. "

He had the spirit of his time. The sword was its faith, its magic. If two men loved a woman, the natural way to make happiness for all wasto let the sword do its eager office. For they had one of the least-believed and most unpopular of truths, that a woman's love is more amatter of mastery and possession than instinct, two men being ofcomparatively equal merit and sincerity. 

His figure seemed to grow larger in the mist, and the grey haze gave hishair a frosty coating, so that age and youth seemed strangely mingled inhim. He stood motionless for a long time as the song went on:

 "Qui vive! Who saileth into the morn, Out of the wind of the dawn? 'Follow, oh, follow me on!' Calleth a distant horn. He is here--he is there--he is gone, Tall seigneur of the dawn! Qui vive! Qui vive! in the dawn. "

Some one touched Iberville's arm. It was Dollier de Casson. Ibervilleturned to him, but they did not speak at first--the priest knew hisfriend well. 

"We shall succeed, abbe, " Iberville said. 

"May our quarrel be a just one, Pierre, " was the grave reply. 

"The forts are our king's; the man is with my conscience, my dearfriend. "

"But if you make sorrow for the woman?"

"You brought me a gift from her!" His finger touched his doublet. 

"She is English, my Pierre. "

"She is what God made her. "

"She may be sworn to the man. "

Iberville started, then shook his head incredulously. "He is not worthyof her. "

"Are you?"

"I know her value better and prize it more. "

"You have not seen her for four years. "

"I had not seen you for four years--and yet!"

"You saw her then only for a few days--and she was so young!"

"What are days or years? Things lie deep in us till some great moment, and then they spring into life and are ours for ever. When I kissed KingLouis' hand I knew that I loved my king; when De Montespan's. I hated, and shall hate always. When I first saw this English girl I waked fromyouth, I was born again into the world. I had no doubts, I have nonenow. "

"And the man?"

"One knows one's enemy even as the other. There is no way but this, Dollier. He is the enemy of my king, and he is greatly in my debt. Remember the Spaniards' country!"

He laid a hand upon his sword. The face of the priest was calm andgrave, but in his eyes was a deep fire. At heart he was a soldier, a loyalist, a gentleman of France. Perhaps there came to him then thedreams of his youth, before a thing happened which made him at last aservant of the Church after he had been a soldier of the king. 

Presently the song of the voyageurs grew less, the refrain softened andpassed down the long line, and, as it were, from out of far mists camethe muffled challenge:

 "Qui vive! Qui vive! in the dawn. "

Then a silence fell once more. But presently from out of the mists therecame, as it were, the echo of their challenge:

 "Qui vive! Qui vive! in the dawn. "

The paddles stilled in the water and a thrill ran through the line ofvoyageurs--even Iberville and his friends were touched by it. 

Then there suddenly emerged from the haze on their left, ahead of them, along canoe with tall figures in bow and stern, using paddles. They worelong cloaks, and feathers waved from their heads. In the centre of thecanoe was what seemed a body under a pall, at its head and feet smallcensers. The smell of the wood came to them, and a little trail of sweetsmoke was left behind as the canoe swiftly passed into the mist on theother side and was gone. 

It had been seen vaguely. No one spoke, no one challenged; it had comeand gone like a dream. What it was, no one, not even Iberville, couldguess, though he thought it a pilgrimage of burial, such as was sometimesmade by distinguished members of Indian tribes. Or it may have been--which is likely--a dead priest being carried south by Indian friends. 

The impression left upon the party was, however, characteristic. Therewas none but, with the smell of the censers in his nostrils, made thesacred gesture; and had the Jesuit Silvy or the Abbe de Casson been sodisposed, the event might have been made into the supernatural. 

After a time the mist cleared away, and nothing could be seen on the paththey had travelled but the plain of clear water and the distant shorethey had left. 

Ahead of them was another shore, and they reached this at last. Wherethe mysterious canoe had vanished, none could tell. 

Days upon days, they travelled with incredible labour, now portaging overa stubborn country, now, placing their lives in hazard as they shot downuntravelled rapids. 

One day on the Black Wing River a canoe was torn open and its threeoccupants were thrown into the rapids. Two of them were expert swimmersand were able to catch the stern of another canoe as it ran by, andreached safe water, bruised but alive. The third was a boy, MauriceJoval, the youngest of the party, whom Iberville had been at first lothto bring with him. But he had remembered his own ambitious youth, andhad consented, persuading De Troyes that the lad was worth encouragement. His canoe was not far behind when the other ran on the rocks. He saw thelad struggle bravely and strike out, but a cross current caught him andcarried him towards the steep shore. There he was thrown against a rock. His strength seemed to fail, but he grasped the rock. It was scraggy, and though it tore and bruised him he clung to it. 

Iberville threw off his doublet, and prepared to spring as his boat camedown. But another had made ready. It was the abbe, with his cassockgone, and his huge form showing finely. He laid his hand uponIberville's arm. "Stay here, " he said, "I go; I am the stronger. "

But Iberville, as cries of warning and appeal rang out around him, thedrowning lad had not cried out at all, --sprang into the water. Notalone. The abbe looked around him, made the sacred gesture, and thensprang also into an eddy a distance below, and at an angle made his wayup towards the two. Priest though he was, he was also an expert river-man, and his vast strength served him royally. He saw Iberville tossedhere and there, but with impossible strength and good fortune reach thelad. The two grasped each other and then struck out for the high shore. De Casson seemed to know what would happen. He altered his course, and, making for the shore also at a point below, reached it. He saw with akind of despair that it was steep and had no trees; yet his keen eyesalso saw, not far below, the dwarfed bole of a tree jutting out from therock. There lay the chance. Below this was a great turmoil of rapids. A prayer mechanically passed the priest's lips, though his thoughts werethose of a warrior then. He almost enjoyed the danger for himself: hisfear was for Iberville and for the motherless boy. 

He had guessed and hoped aright. Iberville, supporting the now senselessboy, swung down the mad torrent, his eyes blinded with blood so that hecould not see. But he heard De Casson's voice, and with a splendideffort threw himself and the lad towards it. The priest also foughtupwards to them and caught them as they came, having reserved his greatstrength until now. Throwing his left arm over the lad he relievedIberville of his burden, but called to him to hold on. The blood wasflowing into Iberville's eyes and he could do nothing else. But now camethe fight between the priest and the mad waters. Once--twice--thricethey went beneath, but neither Iberville nor himself let go, and to theapprehensive cries of their friends there succeeded calls of delight, forDe Casson had seized the jutting bole and held on. It did not give, andthey were safe for a moment. 

A quarter of a mile below there was smoother water, and soon the canoeswere ashore, and Perrot, Sainte-Helene, and others were running to therescue. They arrived just in time. Ropes were let down, and the lad wasdrawn up insensible. Then came the priest, for Iberville, battered as hewas, would not stir until the abbe had gone up--a stout strain on therope. Fortunately there were clefts and fissures in the wall, whichcould be used in the ascent. De Casson had consented to go first, chiefly because he wished to gratify the still youthful pride ofIberville, who thought the soldier should see the priest into safety. Iberville himself came up slowly, for he was stiff and his limbs wereshaking. His clothes were in tatters, and his fine face was like that ofa warrior defaced by swords. 

But he refused to be carried, and his first care was for the boy, who hadreceived no mortal injury. 

"You have saved the boy, Pierre, " said the priest, in a low voice. 

"Self-abasing always, dear abbe; you saved us both. By heaven, but theking lost a great man in you!"

"Hush! Mere brawn, Pierre. . . . By the blessing of God, " he addedquickly. 

CHAPTER XI

WITH THE STRANGE PEOPLE

After this came varying days of hardship by land and water, and thenanother danger. One day they were, crossing a great northern lake. Theland was moist with the sweat of quick-springing verdure; flocks of wildfowl rose at all points, and herds of caribou came drinking and feedingat the shore. The cries of herons, loons, and river-hens rose withstrange distinctness, so delicate was the atmosphere, and the blue of thesky was exquisite. 

As they paddled slowly along this lake, keeping time to their songs withthe paddles, there suddenly grew out of the distance a great flotilla ofcanoes with tall prows, and behind them a range of islands which they hadnot before seen. The canoes were filled with men--Indians, it wouldseem, by the tall feathers lifting from their heads. A moment beforethere had been nothing. The sudden appearance was even more startlingthan the strange canoe that crossed their track on Lake of the Winds. Iberville knew at once that it was a mirage, and the mystery of it didnot last long even among the superstitious. But they knew now thatsomewhere in the north--presumably not far away--was a large band ofIndians, possibly hostile; their own numbers were about fourscore. Therewas the chance that the Indians were following or intercepting them. Yet, since they had left the Ottawa River, they had seen no human being, save in that strange canoe on Lake of the Winds. To the east were thedreary wastes of Labrador, to the west were the desolate plains andhills, stretching to the valley of the Saskatchewan. 

Practically in command, Iberville advised watchfulness and preparationfor attack. Presently the mirage faded away as suddenly as it came. Fordays again they marched and voyaged on, seeing still no human being. Atlast they came to a lake, which they crossed in their canoes; then theyentered the mouth of a small river, travelling northward. The rivernarrowed at a short distance from its mouth, and at a certain point thestream turned sharply. As the first canoe rounded the point it came fullupon half a hundred canoes blocking the river, filled by Indians withbended bows. They were a northern tribe that had never before seen thewhite man. Tall and stern, they were stout enemies, but they had nofirearms, and, as could be seen, they were astonished at the look of thelittle band, which, at the command of De Troyes, who with Iberville wasin the first boat, came steadily on. Suddenly brought face to face therewas a pause, in which Iberville, who knew several Indian languages, called to them to make way. 

He was not understood, but he had pointed to the white standard of Franceflaring with the golden lilies; and perhaps the drawn swords and themartial manner of the little band--who had donned gay trappings, it beingIberville's birthday--conveyed in some way his meaning. The bows of thestrangers stayed drawn, awaiting word from the leader. Near the chiefstood a man seven feet in height, a kind of bodyguard, who presently saidsomething in his ear. He frowned, then seemed to debate, and his facecleared at last. Raising a spear, he saluted the French leaders, andthen pointed towards the shore, where there was a space clear of trees, a kind of plateau. De Troyes and Iberville, thinking that a truce andparley were meant, returned the salute with their swords, and presentlythe canoes of both parties made over to the shore. It was a strikingsight: the grave, watchful faces of the Indians, who showed up grandly inthe sun, their skin like fine rippling bronze as they moved; their tallfeathers tossing, rude bracelets on their wrists, while some worenecklets of brass or copper. The chief was a stalwart savage with acruel eye, but the most striking figure of all--either French or Indian--was that of the chief's body guard. He was, indeed, the Goliath of thetribe, who, after the manner of other champions, was ever ready forchallenge in the name of his master. He was massively built, with longsinewy arms; but Iberville noticed that he was not powerful at the waistin proportion to the rest of his body, and that his neck was thinner thanit should be. But these were items, for in all he was a fine piece ofhumanity, and Iberville said as much to De Casson, involuntarilystretching up as he did so. Tall and athletic himself, he never saw aman of calibre but he felt a wish to measure strength with him, not fromvanity, but through the mere instincts of the warrior. Priest as he was, it is possible that De Casson shared the young man's feeling, thoughchastening years had overcome impulses of youth. It was impossible forthe French leaders to guess how this strange parley would end, and whenmany more Indians suddenly showed on the banks they saw that they mighthave tough work. 

"What do you think of it, Iberville?" said De Troyes. "A juggler'spuzzle--let us ask Perrot, " was the reply. 

Perrot confessed that he knew nothing of this tribe of Indians. TheFrench leaders, who had never heard of Indians who would fight in theopen, were, in spite of great opposing numbers, in warrior mood. Presently all the canoes were got to land, and without any hostile signthe Indians filed out on the centre of the plateau, where were pitched anumber of tents. The tents were in a circle, surrounding a clear spaceof ground, and the chief halted in the middle of this. He and his menhad scarcely noticed the Frenchmen as they followed, seemingly trustingthe honour of the invaders that they would not attack from behind. Itwas these Indians who had been seen in the mirage. They had followed theFrenchmen, had gone parallel with them for scores of miles, and had atlast at this strategic point waylaid them. 

The conference was short. The French ranged in column on one side, theIndians on the other, and then the chief stepped forward. De Troyes didthe same and not far behind him were Iberville, the other officers, andPerrot. Behind the chief was the champion, then, a little distance away, on either side, the Indian councillors. 

The chief waved his hand proudly towards the armed warriors behind him, as if showing their strength, speaking meanwhile, and then with effectivegesture, remarking the handful of French. Presently, pointing to hisfighting man, he seemed to ask that the matter be settled by singlecombat. 

The French leaders understood: Goliath would have his David. Thechampion suddenly began a sing-song challenge, during which Ibervilleand his comrades conferred. The champion's eyes ran up and down the lineand alighted on the large form of De Casson, who calmly watched him. Iberville saw this look and could not help but laugh, though the matterwas serious. He pictured the good abbe fighting for the band. At thisthe champion began to beat his breast defiantly. 

Iberville threw off his coat, and motioned his friends back. Immediatelythere was protest. They had not known quite what to do, but Perrot hadoffered to fight the champion, and they, supposing it was to be a fightwith weapons, had hastily agreed. It was clear, however, that it was tobe a wrestle to the death. Iberville quelled all protests, and theystepped back. There was a final call from the champion, and then hebecame silent. From the Indians rose one long cry of satisfaction, andthen they too stilled, the chief fell back, and the two men stood alonein the centre. Iberville, whose face had become grave, went to De Cassonand whispered to him. The abbe gave him his blessing, and then he turnedand went back. He waved his hand to his brothers and his friends, --a gayCavalier-like motion, --then took off all save his small clothes and stoodout. 

Never was seen, perhaps, a stranger sight: a gentleman of France rangedagainst a savage wrestler, without weapons, stripped to the waist, tofight like a gladiator. But this was a new land, and Iberville couldever do what another of his name or rank could not. There was only oneother man in Canada who could do the same--old Count Frontenac himself, who, dressed in all his Court finery, had danced a war-dance in thetorch-light with Iroquois chiefs. 

Stripped, Iberville's splendid proportions could be seen at advantage. He was not massively made, but from crown to heel there was perfectmuscular proportion. His admirable training and his splendidly nourishedbody--cared for, as in those days only was the body cared for--promisedmuch, though against so huge a champion. Then, too, Iberville in hisboyhood had wrestled with Indians and had learned their tricks. Added tothis were methods learned abroad, which might prove useful now. Yet anyone looking at the two would have begged the younger man to withdraw. Never was battle shorter. Iberville, too proud to give his enemy onemoment of athletic trifling, ran in on him. For a time they were locked, straining terribly, and then the neck of the champion went with a snapand he lay dead in the middle of the green. 

The Indians and the French were both so dumfounded that for a moment noone stirred, and Iberville went back and quietly put on his clothes. Butpresently cries of rage and mourning came from the Indians, and weaponsthreatened. But the chief waved aggression down, and came forward to thedead man. He looked for a moment, and then as Iberville and De Troyescame near, he gazed at Iberville in wonder, and all at once reached outboth hands to him. Iberville took them and shook them heartily. 

There was something uncanny in the sudden death of the champion, andIberville's achievement had conquered these savages, who, after all, loved such deeds, though at the hand of an enemy. And now the wholescene was changed. The French courteously but firmly demanded homage, and got it, as the superior race can get it from the inferior, whenevents are, even distantly, in their favour; and here were martialdisplay, a band of fearless men, weapons which the savages had never seenbefore, trumpets, and, most of all, a chief who was his own champion, andwho had snapped the neck of their Goliath as one would break a tree-branch. 

From the moment Iberville and the chief shook hands they were friends, and after two days, when they parted company, there was no Indian amongall this strange tribe but would have followed him anywhere. As it was, he and De Troyes preferred to make the expedition with his handful ofmen, and so parted with the Indians, after having made gifts to the chiefand his people. The most important of these presents was a musket, handled by the chief at first as though it were some deadly engine. Thetribe had been greatly astonished at hearing a volley fired by the wholeband at once, and at seeing caribou shot before their eyes; but when thechief himself, after divers attempts, shot a caribou, they stood inproper awe. With mutual friendliness they parted. Two weeks later, after great trials, the band emerged on the shores of Hudson's Bay, almost without baggage, and starving. 

CHAPTER XII

OUT OF THE NET

The last two hundred miles of their journey had been made under tryingconditions. Accidents had befallen the canoes which carried the food, and the country through which they passed was almost devoid of game. During the last three days they had little or nothing to eat. When, therefore, at night they came suddenly upon the shores of Hudson's Bay, and Fort Hayes lay silent before them, they were ready for desperateenterprises. The high stockade walls with stout bastions and smallcannon looked formidable, yet there was no man of them but was betterpleased that the odds were against him than with him. Though it waslate spring, the night was cold, and all were wet, hungry, and chilled. 

Iberville's first glance at the bay and the fort brought disappointment. No vessel lay in the harbour, therefore it was probable Gering was notthere. But there were other forts, and this one must be taken meanwhile. The plans were quickly made. Iberville advised a double attack: animprovised battering-ram at the great gate, and a party to climb thestockade wall at another quarter. This climbing-party he would himselflead, accompanied by his brother Sainte-Helene, Perrot, and a handful of agile woodsmen. He had his choice, and his menwere soon gathered round him. A tree was cut down in the woods somedistance from the shore, shortened, and brought down, ready for its dutyof battering-ram. 

The night was beautiful. There was a bright moon, and the sky by somestrange trick of atmosphere had taken on a green hue, against whicheverything stood out with singular distinctness. The air was placid, andthrough the stillness came the low humming wash of the water to the hardshore. The fort stood on an upland, looking in its solitariness likesome lonely prison-house where men went, more to have done with the worldthan for punishment. Iberville was in that mood wherein men do stubborndeeds--when justice is more with them than mercy, and selfishness thaneither. 

"If you meet the man, Pierre?" De Casson said before the party started. 

Iberville laughed softly. "If we meet, may my mind be his, abbe! But heis not here--there is no vessel, you see! Still, there are more forts onthe bay. " The band knelt down before they started. It was strange tohear in that lonely waste, a handful of men, bent on a deadly task, singing a low chant of penitence--a Kyrie eleison. Afterwards came thebenediction upon this buccaneering expedition, behind which was one man'spersonal enmity, a merchant company's cupidity, and a great nation's lustof conquest! Iberville stole across the shore and up the hill with hishandful of men. There was no sound from the fort; all were asleep. Nomusket-shot welcomed them, no cannon roared on the night; there was nosentry. What should people on the outposts of the world need ofsentries, so long as there were walls to keep out wild animals! In a fewmoments Iberville and his companions were over the wall. Already theattack on the gate had begun, a passage was quickly made, and by thetime Iberville had forced open the doors of the blockhouse, his followersmaking a wild hubbub as of a thousand men, De Troyes and his party wereat his heels. Before the weak garrison could make resistance they werein the hands of their enemies, and soon were gathered in the yard--men, women, and children. 

Gering was not there. Iberville was told that he was at one of the otherforts along the shore: either Fort Rupert on the east, a hundred andtwenty miles away, or at Fort Albany, ninety miles to the north and west. Iberville determined to go to Fort Rupert, and with a few followers, embarking in canoes, assembled before it two nights after. A vessel wasin the harbour, and his delight was keen. He divided his men, sendingPerrot to take the fort, while himself with a small party moved to theattack of the vessel. Gering had delayed a day too long. He hadintended leaving the day before, but the arrival of the governor of thecompany had induced him to remain another day; entertaining his guest atsupper, and toasting him in some excellent wine got in Hispaniola. Sopalatable was it that all drank deeply, and other liquors found their wayto the fo'castle. Thus in the dead of night there was no open eye on theValiant. 

The Frenchmen pushed out gently from the shore, paddled noiselessly overto the ship's side, and clambered up. Iberville was the first to step ondeck, and he was followed by Perrot and De Casson, who had, againstIberville's will, insisted on coming. Five others came after. Alreadythey could hear the other party at the gate of the fort, and the cries ofthe besiegers, now in the fortyard, came clearly to them. 

The watch of the Valiant, waking suddenly, sprang up and ran forward, making no outcry, dazed but bent on fighting. He came, however, on thepoint of Perrot's sabre and was cut down. Meanwhile Iberville, hot formischief, stamped upon the deck. Immediately a number of armed men camebundling up the hatch way. Among these appeared Gering and the governor, who thrust themselves forward with drawn swords and pistols. The firsttwo men who appeared above the hatchway were promptly despatched, andIberville's sword was falling upon Gering, whom he did not recognise, when De Casson's hand diverted the blow. It caught the shoulder of a manat Gering's side. 

"'Tis Monsieur Gering!" said the priest. 

"Stop! stop!" cried a voice behind these. "I am the governor. Wesurrender. "

There was nothing else to do: in spite of Gering's show of defiance, though death was above him if he resisted. He was but half-way up. 

"It is no use, Mr. Gering, " urged the governor; "they have us like sheepin a pen. "

"Very well, " said Gering suddenly, handing up his, sword and stepping uphimself. "To whom do I surrender?"

"To an old acquaintance, monsieur, " said Iberville, coming near, "whowill cherish you for the king of France. "

"Damnation!" cried Gering, and his eyes hungered for his sword again. 

"You would not visit me, so I came to look for you; though why, monsieur, you should hide up here in the porch of the world passeth knowledge. "

"Monsieur is witty, " answered Gering stoutly; "but if he will grant memy sword again and an hour alone with him, I shall ask no greater joyin life. "

By this time the governor was on deck, and he interposed. 

"I beg, sir, " he said to Iberville, "you will see there is no uselessslaughter at yon fort; for I guess that your men have their way with it. "

"Shall my messenger, in your name, tell your people to give in?"

"By Heaven, no: I hope that they will fight while remains a chance. Andbe sure, sir, I should not have yielded here, but that I foresaw hopelessslaughter. Nor would I ask your favour there, but that I know you arelike to have bloody barbarians with you--and we have women and children!"

"We have no Indians, we are all French, " answered Iberville quietly, andsent the messenger away. 

At that moment Perrot touched his arm, and pointed to a man whoseshoulder was being bandaged. It was Radisson, who had caught Iberville'ssword when the abbe diverted it. 

"By the mass, " said Iberville; "the gift of the saints!" He prickedRadisson with the point of his sword. "Well, Monsieur Renegade, who holdsthe spring of the trap now? You have some prayers, I hope. And if thereis no priest among your English, we'll find you one before you swing nextsundown. "

Radisson threw up a malignant look, but said nothing; and went on caringfor his wound. 

"At sunset, remember. You will see to it, Perrot, " he added. 

"Pardon me, monsieur, " said the governor. "This is an officer of ourcompany, duly surrendered. "

"Monsieur will know this man is a traitor, and that I have long-standingorders to kill him wherever found. What has monsieur to say for him?"Iberville added, turning to Gering. 

"As an officer of the company, " was the reply, "he has the rights of aprisoner of war. "

"Monsieur, we have met at the same table, and I cannot think you shouldplead for a traitor. If you will say that the man--"

But here Radisson broke in. "I want no one to speak for me. I hate youall"--he spat at Iberville--"and I will hang when I must, no sooner. "

"Not so badly said, " Iberville responded. "'Tis a pity, Radisson, youlet the devil buy you. "

"T'sh! The devil pays good coin, and I'm not hung yet, " he sullenlyreturned. 

By this time all the prisoners save Gering, the governor, and Radisson, were secured. Iberville ordered their disposition, and then, having seta guard, went down to deal with the governor for all the forts on thebay. Because the firing had ceased, he knew that the fort had beencaptured; and, indeed, word soon came to this effect. Iberville thengave orders that the prisoners from the fort should be brought on boardnext morning, to be carried on to Fort Albany, which was yet for attack. He was ill-content that a hand-to-hand fight with Gering had beenprevented. 

He was now all courtesy to the governor and Gering, and, offering themtheir own wine, entertained them with the hardships of their travel up. He gave the governor assurance that the prisoners should be treated well, and no property destroyed. Afterwards, with apologies, he saw thembestowed in a cabin, the door fastened, and a guard set. Presently hewent on deck, and giving orders that Radisson should be kept safe on theafter-deck, had rations served out. Then, after eating, he drew hiscloak over him in the cabin and fell asleep. 

Near daybreak a man came swimming along the side of the ship to the smallport-hole of a cabin. He paused before it, took from his pocket a nail, and threw it within. There was no response, and he threw another, andagain there was no response. Hearing the step of some one on the deckabove he drew in close to the side of the ship, diving under the waterand lying still. A moment after he reappeared and moved-almost floated-on to another port-hole. He had only one nail left; he threw it in, andGering's face appeared. 

"Hush, monsieur!" Radisson called up. "I have a key which may fit, anda bar of iron. If you get clear, make for this side. "

He spoke in a whisper. At that moment he again heard steps above, anddived as before. The watch looked over, having heard a slight noise; butnot knowing that Gering's cabin was beneath, thought no harm. PresentlyRadisson came up again. Gering understood, having heard the footsteps. 

"I will make the trial, " he said. "Can you give me no other weapon?"

"I have only the one, " responded Radisson, not unselfish enough to giveit up. His chief idea, after all, was to put Gering under obligation tohim. 

"I will do my best, " said Gering. 

Then he turned to the governor, who did not care to risk his life in theway of escape. 

Gering tried the key, but it would not turn easily and he took it outagain. Rubbing away the rust, he used tallow from the candle, and triedthe lock again; still it would not turn. He looked to the fastenings, but they were solid, and he feared noise; he made one more attempt withthe lock, and suddenly it turned. He tried the handle, and the dooropened. Then he bade goodbye to the governor and stepped out, almostupon the guard, who was sound asleep. Looking round he saw Iberville'scloak, which its owner had thrown off in his sleep. He stealthily pickedit up, and then put Iberville's cap on his head. Of nearly the sameheight, with these disguises he might be able to pass for his captor. 

He threw the cloak over his shoulders, stole silently to the hatchway, and cautiously climbed up. Thrusting out his head he looked about him, and he saw two or three figures bundled together at the mainmast--woodsmen who had celebrated victory too sincerely. He looked for thewatch, but could not see him. Then he drew himself carefully up, and onhis hands and knees passed to the starboard side and moved aft. Doing sohe saw the watch start up from the capstan where he had been resting, andwalk towards him. He did not quicken his pace. He trusted to his ruse--he would impersonate Iberville, possessed as he was of the hat and cloak. He moved to the bulwarks and leaned against them, looking into the water. The sentry was deceived; he knew the hat and cloak, and he was only tooglad to have, as he thought, escaped the challenge of having slept at hispost; so he began resolutely to pace the deck. Gering watched himclosely, and moved deliberately to the stern. In doing so he suddenlycame upon a body. He stopped and turned round, leaning against thebulwarks as before. This time the watch came within twenty feet of him, saluted and retired. 

Immediately Gering looked again at the body near him, and started back, for his feet were in a little pool. He understood: Radisson had escapedby killing his guard. It was not possible that the crime and the escapecould go long undetected; the watch might at any moment come the fulllength of the ship. Gering flashed a glance at him again, his back wasto him still, --suddenly doffed the hat and cloak, vaulted lightly uponthe bulwarks, caught the anchor-chain, slid down it into the water, andstruck out softly along the side. Immediately Radisson was beside him. 

"Can you dive?" the Frenchman whispered. "Can you swim under water?"

"A little. "

"Then with me, quick!"

The Frenchman dived and Gering followed him. The water was bitter cold, but when a man is saving his life endurance multiplies. 

The Fates were with them: no alarm came from the ship, and they reachedthe bank in safety. Here they were upon a now hostile shore withoutfood, fire, shelter, and weapons; their situation was desperate even yet. Radisson's ingenuity was not quite enough, so Gering solved the problem:there were the Frenchmen's canoes; they must be somewhere on the shore. Because Radisson was a Frenchman, he might be able to impose upon thewatch guarding the canoes. If not, they still had weapons of a kind-Radisson a knife, and Gering the bar of iron. They moved swiftly alongthe shore, fearing an alarm meanwhile. If they could but get weapons anda canoe they would make their way either to Fort Albany, so warning it, or attempt the desperate journey to New York. Again fortune was withthem. As it chanced, the watch, suffering from the cold night air, hadgone into the bush to bring wood for firing. The two refugees stolenear, and in the very first canoe found three muskets, and there werealso bags filled with food. They hastily pushed out a canoe, got in, andwere miles away before their escape was discovered. 

Radisson was for going south at once to New York, but Gering would nothear of it, and at the mouth of a musket Radisson obeyed. They reachedFort Albany and warned it. Having thus done his duty towards theHudson's Bay Company, and knowing that surrender must come, and that inthis case his last state would be worse than his first, Gering proceededwith Radisson--hourly more hateful to him, yet to be endured for what hadhappened--southward upon the trail the Frenchmen had taken northward. 

A couple of hours after Gering had thrown his hat and cloak into theblood of the coureur du bois, and slid down the anchor-chain, Ibervilleknew that his quarry was flown. The watch had thought that Iberville hadgone below, and he had again relaxed, but presently a little maggot ofwonder got into his brain. He then went aft. Dawn was just breaking;the grey moist light shone with a naked coldness on land and water; wild-fowl came fluttering, voiceless, past; night was still drenched in sleep. Suddenly he saw the dead body, and his boots dabbled in wet!

In all that concerned the honour of the arms of France and the conquestof the three forts, Hayes, Rupert, and Albany, Iberville might becontent, but he chafed at, the escape of his enemies. 

"I will not say it is better so, Pierre, " urged De Casson; "but you havedone enough for the king. Let your own cause come later. "

"And it will come, abbe, " he answered, with anger. "His account grows;we must settle all one day. And Radisson shall swing or I am no soldier--so!"

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