Part 11 (1/2)

”Mademoiselle,” said Tonty, his voice vibrating, ”there is a stranger thing. It is this,--that a man with a wretched hand of iron should suddenly find within himself a heart of fire!”

When this confession had burst from him he turned his back without apology, and Barbe's forehead sunk upon the window-sill.

Within the chapel, drops from the cracked roof still fell in succession, like invisible fingers playing scales along the boards. Outside was the roar of the landlocked sea, and the higher music of falling rain. Barbe let her furtive eyes creep up the sill and find Tonty's large back on which she looked with abashed but gratified smiles.

”Mademoiselle,” he begged without turning, ”forgive what I have said.”

”Certainly, monsieur,” she responded. ”What was it that you said?”

”Nothing, mademoiselle, nothing.”

”Then, monsieur, I forgive you for saying nothing.”

Tonty, in his larger perplexity at having made such a confession without La Salle's leave, missed her sting.

Nothing more was said through the window. Barbe moved back, and the stalwart soldier kept his stern posture; until La Salle, whose approach had been hidden by chimney and mission house, burst abruptly into view.

As he came up, both he and Tonty opened their arms. Strong breast to strong breast, cheek touching cheek, spare olive-hued man and dark rich-blooded man hugged each other.

Barbe's convent lessons of embroidery and pious lore had included no heathen tales of G.o.ds or heroes. Yet to her this sight was like a vision of two great cloudy figures stalking across the world and meeting with an embrace.

VI.

LA SALLE AND TONTY.

When one of the men had been called from the mission house to stand guard, they came directly into the chapel, preferring to talk there in the presence of Barbe.

La Salle kissed her hand and her cheek, and she sat down before the fire, spreading the buffalo skin under her feet.

As embers sunk and the talk of the two men went on, she crept as low as this s.h.a.ggy carpet, resting arms and head upon the bench. The dying fire made exquisite color in this dismal chapel.

”The governor's man, when he arrived to seize Fort St. Louis, gave you my letter of instructions, Tonty?”

”Yes, Monsieur de la Salle.”

”Then, my lad, why have you abandoned the post and followed me? You should have stayed to be my representative. They have Frontenac.

Crevecoeur was ruined for us. If they get St. Louis of the Illinois entirely into their hands they will claim the whole of Louisiana, these precious a.s.sociates.”

Tonty, laying his sound arm across his commandant's shoulder, exclaimed, ”Monsieur, I have followed you five hundred leagues to drag that rascal Jolycoeur back with me. He told at Fort St. Louis that this should be your last journey.”

La Salle laughed.

”Let me tie Jolycoeur and fling him into my canoe, and I turn back at once. I can hold your claims on the Illinois against any number of governor's agents. Take the surgeon Liotot in Jolycoeur's place.

Liotot came with me, anxious to return to France.”

”Jolycoeur is no worse than the others, my Tonty, and he has had many opportunities. How often has my life been threatened!”

”He intends mischief, monsieur. If I had heard it before you set out, this journey need not have been made.”

”Tonty,” declared the explorer, ”I think sometimes I carry my own destruction within myself. I will not chop nice phrases for these hounds who continually ruin my undertakings by their faithlessness. If a man must keep patting the populace, he can do little else. But I am glad you overtook me here. My Tonty, if I had a hundred men like you I could spread out the unknown wilderness and possess it as that child possesses that hide of buffalo.”