Part 20 (1/2)

”'Tis a land of plenty,” said Du Mesne one day, breaking the habitual silence into which the party had fallen. ”'Tis a great land, and a mighty. And now, Monsieur, I know why the Indians say 'tis guarded by spirits. Sure, I can myself feel something in the air which makes my shoulder-blades to creep.”

”'Tis a mighty land, and full of wonders,” a.s.sented Law, who, in different fas.h.i.+on, had felt the same mysterious spell of this great stream. For himself, he was nearer to reverence than ever yet he had been in all his wild young life.

Now so it happened that at length, after a long though rapid journey down the great river, they came to that stream which they took to be the river of the Illini. This they ascended, and so finally, early in one evening, at the bank of a wide and placid bayou, shaded by willows and birch trees, and by great elms that bore aloft a canopy of clinging vines, they made a landing for the bivouac which was to prove their final tarrying place. The great _canot du Nord_ came to rest at the foot of a timbered hill, back of which stretched high, rolling prairies, dotted with little groves and broken with wide swales and winding sloughs. The leaders of the party, with Tete Gris and Pierre Noir, ascended the bluffs and made brief exploration; not more, as was tacitly understood, with view to choosing the spot for the evening encampment than with the purpose of selecting a permanent stopping place. Du Mesne at length turned to Law with questioning gaze. John Law struck the earth with his heel.

”Here!” said he. ”Here let us stop. 'Tis as well as any place. There are flowers and trees, and meadows and hedges, like to those of England.

Here let us stay!”

”Ah, you say well indeed!” cried Du Mesne, ”and may fortune send us happy enterprises.”

”But then, for the houses,” continued Law. ”I presume we must keep close to this little stream which flows from the bluff. And yet we must have a place whence we can obtain good view. Then, with stout walls to protect us, we might--but see! What is that beyond? Look! There is, if I mistake not, a house already builded!”

”'Tis true, as I live!” cried Du Mesne, lowering his voice instinctively, as his quick eye caught the spot where Law was pointing.

”But, good G.o.d! what can it mean?”

They advanced cautiously into the little open s.p.a.ce beyond them, a glade but a few hundred yards across and lined by encircling trees. They saw indeed a habitation erected by human hands, apparently not altogether without skill. There were rude walls of logs, reinforced by stakes planted in the ground. From the four corners of the inclosure projected overhanging beams. There was an opening in the inclosure, as they discovered upon closer approach, and entering at this rude door, the party looked about them curiously.

Du Mesne shut his lips tight together. This was no house built by the hands of white men. There were here no quarters, no shops, no chapel with its little bell. Instead there stood a few dried and twisted poles, and all around lay the litter of an abandoned camp.

”Iroquois, by the living Mother of G.o.d!” cried Pierre Noir.

”Look!” cried Tete Gris, calling them again outside the inclosure. He stood kicking in the ashes of what had been a fire-place. He disclosed, half buried in the charred embers, an iron kettle into which he gazed curiously. He turned away as John Law stepped up beside him.

”There must have been game here in plenty,” said Law. ”There are bones scattered all about.”

Du Mesne and Tete Gris looked at each other in silence, and the former at length replied:

”This is an Iroquois war house, Monsieur L'as,” said he. ”They lived here for more than a month, and, as you say, they fed well. But these bones you see are not the bones of elk or deer. They are the bones of men, and women, and children.”

Law stood taking in each detail of the scene about him.

”Now you have seen what is before us,” resumed Du Mesne. ”The Iroquois have gone, 'tis true. They have wiped out the villages which were here.

There are the little cornfields, but I warrant you they have not seen a tomahawk hoe for a month or more. The Iroquois have gone, yet the fact that they have been here proves they may come again. What say you, Tete Gris; and what is your belief, Pierre?”

Tete Gris remained silent for some moments. ”'Tis as Monsieur says,”

replied he at length. ”'Tis all one to me. I go or stay, as it shall please the others. There is always the one trail over which one does not return.”

”And you, Pierre?”

”I stay by my friends,” replied Pierre Noir, briefly.

”And you, Monsieur L'as?” asked Du Mesne.

Law raised his head with the old-time determination. ”My friends,” said he, ”we have elected to come into this country and take its conditions as we find them. If we falter, we lose; of that we may rest a.s.sured.

Let us not turn back because a few savages have been here and have slaughtered a few other savages. For me, there seems but one opinion possible. The lightning has struck, yet it may not strike again at the same tree. The Iroquois have been here, but they have departed, and they have left nothing to invite their return. Now, it is necessary that we make a pause and build some place for our abode. Here is a post already half builded to our hands.”

”But if the savages return?” said Du Mesne.