Part 37 (1/2)

The canoe made a turn and ran up an inlet. A great clump of trees hid a wigwam until they were in sight of it There was a smoke issuing from the rude chimney, and a savory smell permeated the air. Two squaws had been squatted before the blaze of the stone-built fireplace. They both rose and came down the narrow strip of beach. They were short, the older one had a squat, ungainly figure of great breadth for the height, and a most forbidding face. The other was much younger.

Jeanne did not understand the language, but from a few words she guessed it was Huron. It seemed at first as if there was fierce upbraiding from some cause, but it settled satisfactorily it would seem. She was helped out of the canoe. Oh, how good it was to stand free on the ground again!

The Indian who appeared to be the leader of the party took her arm and led her up to the inclosure, the back of which seemed rocks, one piled upon another. The wigwam was set against them. The rude shelter outside was the kitchen department, evidently. A huge kettle had been lifted from the coals and was still steaming. A bark platter was piled high with deliciously browned fish, and in spite of her terror and distrust she felt that she was hungry.

”If I might have some water,” she asked hesitatingly,--”a drink and some to bathe my face and hands?”

The drink was offered her in a gourd cup. Then the younger woman led her within the wigwam. There was a rough earthen bowl filled with water, a bit of looking-gla.s.s framed in birch bark, a bed, and some rounds of logs for seats. Around hung articles of clothing, both native made and bought from the traders.

”I understand Chippewa,” announced Jeanne looking inquiringly at the woman.

She put her finger on her lip. Then she said, almost breathlessly, ”We are not to talk to the French demoiselle.”

”But tell me, am I to stay here?”

She gave a negative shake of the head.

”Am I to go--farther north?”

An affirmative nod this time.

”Wanee! Wanee!” was called sharply from without.

Jeanne sank on her knees.

”O Holy Mother of Christ, have pity on me and save me!” she cried. For the vague suspicion that had haunted her since waking, crystallized into a certainty. Part of a rosary came to her:--

”Heart of Jesus, refuge of sinners; Heart of Jesus, fort.i.tude of the just; Heart of Jesus, comfort the afflicted.”

Then she rose and made a brief toilet. She shook out her long hair, pa.s.sing her damp hands over it, and it fell in curls again. She straightened her dress, but she still felt chill in the cool morning air. There was a cape of gull's feathers, hanging by the flap of the wigwam, and she reached it down making a sign to the woman asking permission.

She nodded a.s.sentingly.

It felt good and warm. Jeanne's breakfast was spread on a board resting on two stones. The squaw had made coffee out of some parched and ground grains, and it had a comforting flavor. The plate of fish was set before her and cakes of honey bread, and her coffee poured in a gourd bowl. The birds were singing overhead, and she could hear the lap of the tide in the lake, a soft tone of monotony. The beauty of it all penetrated her very soul. Even the group around the great kettle, dipping in their wooden spoons and gravely chatting, the younger woman smiling and one might almost imagine teasing them, had a picturesque aspect, and softened the thought of what might happen to-morrow.

They lolled on the turf and smoked pipes afterward. Jeanne paced up and down within sight of their glances that she knew were fixed upon her in spite of the half-closed lids. It was so good to be free in the fragrant air, to stretch her cramped limbs and feel the soft short gra.s.s under her feet. Dozens of wild plans flashed through her brain. But she knew escape was impossible, and she wondered what was to be the next move.

Were they awaiting the trader, Louis Marsac?

Plainly they were not. When they were rested and had eaten again and had drunk a thick liquid made of roots and barks and honey, they rose and went toward the canoe, as if discussing some matter. They parleyed with the elder woman, who brought out two blankets and a pine needle cus.h.i.+on, which they threw in the boat, then a bottle of water from the spring, a gourd cup and some provisions.

”Come,” the leader said, not unkindly. ”Thou hast had a rest. We must be on our journey.”

Pleading would be in vain, she recognized that. The women could not befriend her even if they would. So she allowed herself to be helped into the canoe, and the men pushed off amid the rather vociferous jargon of the women. She was made much more comfortable than before, though so seated that either brave could reach out his long arm and s.n.a.t.c.h her from any untoward resolve.

She looked down into the s.h.i.+ning waters. Did she really care to try them? The hope of youth is unbounded and its trust in the future sublime. She did not want to die. Life was a glad, sweet thing to her, even if full of vague dreams, and she hoped somehow to be delivered from this danger, to find a friend raised up for her. Stories of miracles and wonderful rescues floated through her mind. Surely G.o.d would not let her fall a prey to this man she both feared and hated. She could feel his one hot, vicious kiss upon her lips even yet.

The woods calmed and soothed her with their grays and greens, and the infrequent birches, tall and slim, with circles of white still about them. Great tree boles stood up like hosts of silent Indian warriors, ready to pounce down on one. They hugged the sh.o.r.e closely, sometimes it was translucent green, and one could almost catch the darting fishes with one's hand. Then the dense shade rendered it black, and it seemed bottomless.

So gliding along, keeping well out of the reach of other craft, the hours growing more tiresome to Jeanne, they pa.s.sed the Point Aux Barques and steered across Saginaw bay. Once they had stopped for a little rest and a tramp along the sh.o.r.e. Then another evening dropped down upon them, another night, and Jeanne slept from a sort of exhaustion.

The next forenoon they landed at one of the islands, where a trading vessel of considerable size and fair equipment lay at anchor. A man on deck with a gla.s.s had been sighting them. She had not noted him particularly, in fact she was weary and disheartened with her journey and her fears. But they made a sudden turn and came up to the vessel, poled around to the sh.o.r.e side, when she was suddenly lifted up by strong arms and caught by other arms with a motion so rapid she could not have struggled if she had wished. And now she was set down almost roughly.

”Welcome, my fair demoiselle,” said a voice whose triumph was in no degree disguised. ”How shall I ever thank you for this journey you have taken to meet me? I could have made it pleasanter for you if you would have consented a little earlier. But a willful girl takes her own way, and her way is sweet to the man who loves her, no matter how briery the path may be.”