The Crimson Sign E-Book

H. A. Cody

• Herausgeber: Ktoczyta.pl
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

The whole story revolves around the colony of Acadia, which belonged to New France. For this territory was the most intense struggle between Britain and France. However, the territory was divided into British colonies, which became Canadian provinces and American states. This historical work and hook on everyone who is interested in history.

Leseprobe

Contents

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER XI

CHAPTER XII

CHAPTER XIII

CHAPTER XIV

CHAPTER XV

CHAPTER XVI

CHAPTER XVII

CHAPTER XVIII

CHAPTER XIX

CHAPTER XX

CHAPTER XXI

CHAPTER XXII

CHAPTER XXIII

CHAPTER XXIV

CHAPTER XXV

CHAPTER XXVI

CHAPTER XXVII

CHAPTER XXVIII

CHAPTER XXIX

CHAPTER XXX

CHAPTER XXXI

CHAPTER XXXII

CHAPTER XXXIII

CHAPTER I

WHEN THE RAIDERS RETURNED

He was perched high upon the branch of a towering pine tree, his eyes fixed upon the river which wound like a silver thread through the forest wilderness. There were trees everywhere, trees covering the arching hills, trees in the crouching valleys and standing like great sentinels along the river’s banks. No sign of human life could be seen, and silence reigned supreme along the Saint John River in Acadia in the summer of sixteen hundred and ninety-six.

Seeing nothing of importance along that great inland waterway, Grey Martell was about to leave his lofty position when a large eagle swept by on strong majestic pinions, headed westward. It fascinated the watcher and thrilled his soul with a sudden interest.

“Ah, if I could only fly like that, it wouldn’t take me long to be away from here!” he exclaimed. “At the rate that fellow’s travelling it shouldn’t take him long to reach Fort Reliance. I wonder if Helen will see him.”

Reseating himself upon the branch which he had partly left, he thrust his hand into a pocket of his buckskin trousers and brought forth a piece of worn soiled paper. As he unfolded this, several capital letters were exposed to view. They formed no words, and seemed meaningless. But to the young man they evidently meant a great deal, for his eyesbrightened as he looked at them. Then a smile overspread his healthy sun-browned face.

“Wouldn’t Peter King like to know the meaning of these words. But he never will, although he has tried hard to find out. He can boast all he likes about his knowledge of the woods and their secrets, but he can’t understand these. Poor Pete!”

A low whistle drifted up through the branches of the pine, causing Grey to thrust the paper back into his pocket. In another minute he was descending the tree from limb to limb. Swift and noiseless as a panther he moved, and when at length he dropped upon the ground he looked cautiously around. This was due to the spirit of alertness which had been instilled into his soul during the years of his wilderness life. When unseen dangers lurked on every side caution was necessary. And it was so now when at any minute the hated enemy might appear.

As Grey Martell stood in this watching attitude, he presented a striking picture. Tall, lithe, and straight as an arrow, his well-shaped head poised upon strong square shoulders gave him a commanding appearance. The sleeves of his brown shirt were rolled to the elbows, exposing sun-tanned arms of great muscular strength. A light deer-skin cap rested jauntily upon his head, on the right side of which was fastened a small blood-red feather. This distinguishing mark was known far and wide, a pride to all entitled to wear it, but a menace to all enemies of the League of the Crimson Sign.

Again came the whistle, low and commanding. Grey smiled as he turned, glided among the trees and made his way carefully down a steep bank. He stopped at last by the side of a man sitting on alog holding a frying-pan over some hot coals. Close by flowed a placid stream, a tributary to the main river. A birchbark canoe, drawn up on the shore, contained several bundles of provisions and blankets, while two muskets were lying nearby ready for any emergency.

“Is supper ready?” Grey asked. “That meat smells good.”

“And it’s as good as it smells, my boy. It’s as tender as a chicken. Try a piece.”

Pete King was a powerfully-built man, with great chest and muscular arms. His wealth of iron-grey hair, beard trimmed to a point, and large moustache gave him the appearance of a Viking warrior of olden days. He was dressed in an old well-worn buckskin suit, and his feet were encased in deer-skin moccasins. His forehead, though not high, was broad, and his shaggy eyebrows formed a heavy canopy above his keen gray eyes which peered watchfully over his arching rampart-like nose. He was a king in more than name. He was a monarch among men, where strength, endurance and a shrewd active mind counted for more than a royal sceptre held in a jewelled hand.

As Grey began his attack upon the meat and a slice of coarse bread well soaked in gravy, Pete watched him with a humorous twinkle in his eyes.

“I was afraid you had tumbled out of that pine, my boy.”

“What made you think that, Pete?”

“A mighty good reason. When a lad like you sits dreaming high up in a tree, there’s no telling what might happen.”

“But I wasn’t dreaming, Pete. I was watching the river, as you ordered."

“And didn’t see anything?”

“Nothing of the enemy. But I saw a great eagle flying westward.”

“And your thoughts went with it, I suppose?”

“They did, and if I had wings like that bird I’d soon be out of here.”

“Yes, I know. You’ve often told me that before. And you always feel worse after you get a letter from your dream, though it’s been some time since you got the last one. It must have had more love-charm in it than the others, for it’s taken longer to wear off.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know what it’s all about, Pete?”

“Oh, I can guess pretty well. But how you can make sense out of that jumble of letters is more than I can understand.”

Grey laughed as he laid his iron plate upon the ground and drew the letter from his pocket.

“I’m going to tell you something about this, Pete. It is our code system. Only Helen and I know what these letters mean. We have been communicating with each other in this way ever since our fathers became enemies, and Colonel Garland refused to let me visit Fort Reliance.”

“It’s a wonder the Colonel didn’t find out and stop the letters.”

“Oh, we have good friends who are helping us. The soldiers at the Fort would do anything for Helen.”

“H’m, trust a woman to bewitch men. It won’t be well for them if the Colonel ever hears. He’s a very stern man.”

“Indeed he is, and that was the cause of thetrouble with my father. In fact, they are both hot-headed, and–”

“Yes, yes, I know all about that, my boy. Your father was perfectly right, though, in asking the Colonel to send soldiers to protect his trading post from the French and the Indians. But it’s none of my business why the Colonel refused. Now, let me hear what that girl has to say.”

Grey smiled a little at his companion’s curiosity, and remained silent for a while.

“All right, you needn’t tell me if you don’t want to,” Pete declared. “I don’t care. Anyway, an old man such as I am should not bother about a silly love letter.”

“It’s interesting, though, and I know you are anxious to hear. Helen says it’s a shame that we have to be kept apart and can’t see each other because our fathers have quarrelled. She would like to run away and come here.”

“Well, well! So that’s what she says, eh? Come here! Lord! What would we do with her?”

“I guess you needn’t worry, Pete. She can’t come, so that’s the end of it.”

“True, true, and I’m mighty glad. A girl would turn the heads of our men, and they’d soon be fighting with one another over her. And, besides, we’re living too risky a life to be bothered with a girl. But, there, that reminds me, you’d better have another look down the river. We can’t tell what minute the raiders might show up. They’ve been gone about a month, and we’ve been hanging around here for almost a week. And no matter how they return, it won’t be easy for us. If they’ve been successful, they’ll be so full of cussed impudence and pride that they’ll try to drive us out. And if theyare defeated, they’ll strive to wreak their revenge upon us.”

“But we’ll be able for them, Pete,” Grey reminded. “Remember the Crimson Sign.”

“I know that, my boy. I’m not forgetting the blood-red feather. It was a bright idea of mine, and it’s worked well. It’s a good sign for our League. Yes, light and swift as a feather in an eagle’s wing must every member be. And each has his dyed with his own blood.”

Grey smiled as he lifted his cap from his head and stroked the little emblem.

“It was a proud day for me, Pete, when I earned this.”

“And to me, as well, lad. But I was prouder of the way you bore the blood-letting. You stood it like an old ranger, and never winced, although I knew it hurt. It made you one of us by the tie of blood. And by this Crimson Sign we are going to win this land and establish peace and justice in the place of tyranny and war.”

“Do you think we can ever do it, Pete?”

“Do it? Certainly we shall. We are steadily winning the confidence of the Indians. They are getting tired of the way Villebon has treated them. He doesn’t give them as much as we do for their furs. And, besides, he takes them off on those raids along the New England coast which they do not like. We shall soon be so strong that Villebon will be forced to leave.”

“He’s a very determined man, though, and he will fight hard to hold this country.”

“Oh, he’s only a tool. It’s old Count Frontenac who is driving him on, and back of him is KingLouis of France with his gang of mistresses. I’ve heard it said that a woman rules the King from her bedchamber. Yes, when there’s any trouble you may depend upon it there’s a woman somewhere back of it all.”

“But surely all trouble is not started by women, Pete.”

“Maybe not all, but most of it. And it’s a female that’s unsettling your mind and making you restless.”

Grey’s eyes opened wide in amazement, for he had never heard Pete King speak in such a manner before. The old ranger noticed his surprise and smiled.

“There, that’s enough about women, my lad. We have other things to think about now. Get away to your look-out.”

“I have been perched upon that old pine for the last week, and am getting sick and tired of the job.”

“I suppose you are. But you’ll have to keep it up a little longer. If I could climb like you I’d take your place once in a while. But I’m too clumsy and stiff, and my head gets unsteady when I go too high. I’ll do my part on the ground while you do yours in the air. But don’t lose your head dreaming about that girl. Many a better man than you has had a bad fall through thinking too much about women.”

“Are you speaking from experience?” Grey laughingly bantered. “You have hinted several times about the same thing.”

Pete King made no reply, but a sober expression came into his eyes as he looked out over the river. Grey watched him for a few seconds, and then without another word sped up the bank and disappearedamong the trees. Slowly Pete gathered up the few dishes, carried them to the shore and washed them, using sand for soap. He was in a most thoughtful mood, and after his dish-washing was over, he seated himself upon a big stone and remained lost in thought.

As he sat there he was no longer Pete King, the daring leader of the League of the Crimson Sign, the dread of Villebon and his men at the Fort on the Nashwaak. He was a young man again, in Old England, living in a cosey vine-clad cottage, proud of his comely wife and fair-haired boy. But that was long ago, and what changes had taken place since then! Instead of the life he had planned, he was nothing now but a forest ranger, leading a band of men as reckless as himself. And it was all because of one woman who had proven unfaithful. His face hardened as he thought of her. Then a softer expression came into his eyes as he remembered the boy. It was a mercy, perhaps, that he had been taken before he was old enough to know of his mother’s shame. Often the longing had come into Pete’s heart to visit his old home, go to the graveyard and look upon the little mound where his child had been buried. It came to him again as he sat there by the river. He saw the place, the old stone church, covered with ivy, the trees and that little grave.

He was aroused from his reverie by Grey’s sudden appearance as he came bounding towards him from among the trees.

“They’re coming, Pete!”

The old ranger was on his feet in an instant.

“Where?”

“Above Point Aux Chenes."

“Ah! They’ll soon be here, then. We must hide the canoe. There is no time to lose.”

Quickly covering the last remnants of hot coals with sand, and gathering up their few belongings which were lying about, they bore the craft speedily up among the trees and concealed it in a deep gully under a tangle of low thick firs and spruces.

“That’s good,” Pete declared. “I’ve had my eye on this spot for some time. Let’s get down to the river and watch for the raiders.”

With muskets in their hands, they sped among the trees and stopped only when the bright sheen of water beyond met their eyes. They advanced more cautiously now, and when they came to the top of the bank they looked keenly down stream. In the distance, away to the left, they saw the raiders. Crouching low, they crept forward and took up their position behind a big rock surrounded by a mass of bushes. This was an excellent hiding place, as from here they could watch quite unobserved.

Silently and swiftly the flotilla of war canoes swept up stream, wedge-like in shape, resembling the formation of a great flock of wild geese winging northward. As the leading canoes approached, the watchers behind the rock crouched still lower.

“Something’s happened to them,” Pete whispered. “They’ve had a reverse. I can tell it by their silence. Villieu and Foulette are in those leading canoes. I wish I could see their faces. And won’t Villebon raise hell when they reach the Fort.”

“Most likely he’ll try to take revenge upon us,” Grey replied.

“I wouldn’t be surprised, for he’ll have to do something to satisfy old Frontenac. That devil’s back of this whole raiding business."

The canoes were now opposite the big rock, and were keeping close to the western shore in order to avoid the ebbing tide which here was running strong. The forms of the men swaying to their paddles could be easily discerned, although their faces could not be clearly observed at such a distance. There were thirty crafts in all, containing about two hundred men, most of whom were Indians. Pete watched them with critical, contemptuous eyes.

“The skunks!” he growled. “It seems to me they have a captive, and a woman, at that.”

“Where?” Grey asked.

“In that canoe to the left of the leading one. Don’t you see her?”

“I do, and it is a woman, Pete. I can only see her head and shoulders.”

“May God help her, lad, whoever she is. And if she’s young and beautiful she’s doomed among those devils.”

Grey made no reply, but kept his eyes fixed upon that crouching figure so long as the canoes were in sight. He wondered who she was, and what the raiders intended to do with her. A great desire came into his heart to go to her rescue. He mentioned it to his companion.

“I was thinking of the same thing myself,” the old ranger replied. “She must be an English woman, so it’s our duty to do all we can to save her from those devils. But we’ll need help, so let us get on our way back to the Saganic. We’ve got nasty work ahead, it seems to me, and we have no time to lose. Most likely Villebon will soon be on the move against us, so we must be ready.”

CHAPTER II

THE COMMANDER

The commander of Fort St. Joseph on the Nashwaak River was greatly troubled as he sat in his office poring over several papers lying on the table before him. They had been brought that day by a courier from Quebec, and contained special instructions from Count Frontenac. One, especially, caused his brow to knit with perplexity and his keen eyes to gleam with anger.

“The Governor is asking the impossible,” he muttered. “He demands that I exert greater efforts to harry the New England coast and destroy the English forts. Mon Dieu! haven’t I done everything in my power, and the raiders I sent thither have now come back practically defeated. The Indians are restless and want to return to the Meductic. I can’t keep them any longer. What am I to do? I have explained my situation to the Governor, but he is merciless.”

The commander rose to his feet, walked across the room to a window near the door and watched the scene in the large square outside. There he beheld a long row of Indians squatting upon the ground enjoying the food that was being given to them by a number of soldiers. An expression of annoyance overspread his face. To have their bodily appetites satisfied was all that interested these savages. So long as they were well supplied with food and presents they professed to be his friends. But he knewfrom considerable experience that on the slightest pretext they might turn against him and join the English. He had held them so far, but how long that would continue he could not tell. After this unsuccessful raid they were restless and anxious to return to their villages.

Sieur de Villebon remained at the window for some time in deep thought. His well-proportioned form was drawn to its full height, and his strong intellectual face was marked with care. He was dressed in full uniform, in keeping with his position, in order to impress the Indians. His grand appearance, wonderful dress, courteous manner and friendly words appealed strongly to their simple minds. But they also knew that behind his outward display and suave speech was a man of indomitable courage, with a heart of steel and a firm inflexible will, who could be very gentle to those who obeyed his commands, but revengeful and cruel to his enemies, or anyone who attempted to oppose him.

It was well that the natives could not read the heart of the commander as he stood watching them. To him they were nothing but contemptible pawns in the game he was playing. He fed and flattered them for their services alone. But he had greater ambitions than to remain for any length of time in charge of a small wilderness fort. He longed to be the ruler not only of Acadia, but New England, as well. His mind was set upon the capture of Boston, and the last band of raiders he had sent forth was merely to clear the way, destroy the English forts along the coast, preparatory to his great conquest. With such victories to his credit, his great ambition would be thus accomplished, and all, even his King, would be deeply impressed.

Now, however, his hope of supremacy was far from bright. The raiders had returned without accomplishing anything. They had been repulsed by Colonel Garland in their attack upon Fort Reliance, and the Indians had become discouraged. They had brought back only one captive, a girl, so he had been told, but his mind had been so greatly disturbed that he had not given her a second’s thought. He had hoped for many captives and scalps, with news of victory to satisfy the Governor at Quebec. What was a lone girl to one who desired so much?

As Villebon thought of these things his heart became bitter within him. He longed for revenge. If he could not capture Boston and the forts along the coast, there were enemies not far away whom he was anxious to punish. The League of the Crimson Sign had been a thorn in his flesh for some time, but so far he had not been able to prevail against these independent rangers. He had offered a reward for the capture of Pete King, but nothing had been done, for the loyal Frenchmen and Indians alike were unwilling to attack the outlaws, as Villebon termed them. He often wondered why, and at times he became suspicious of his own men, especially Villieu. Although the latter was outwardly courteous and loyal, Villebon did not like his friendliness with Sieur de La Valliere, of Chignecto. It seemed as if the two were plotting against him, although he had no definite proof.

And the same was true of others. While he himself wrote letters to Count Frontenac, complaining about the D’Armours down river, he knew that they were doing the same about him. That he waswatched, and everything he did was reported to the Governor, he was well aware. But he could do nothing to prevent this spirit of fault-finding and mutual recrimination. Yet what could he expect when it was nurtured at Quebec where Frontenac and the Intendent kept watch over each other, and made reports of all that transpired to the French ministry at home. It was, therefore, but natural that what took place at headquarters should be carried on in every outpost of Acadia.

As Villebon thus watched and meditated, he saw Villieu coming towards him. He frowned, for he was in no mood to receive the man he disliked. But when his lieutenant entered, the commander was seated at his table, apparently deep in the letters lying before him. He returned the salute his officer gave, and motioned him to a seat.

“Your visit is timely, Villieu, and I have been wondering why you did not come to me sooner.”

“I do not like to be the purveyor of bad news, Monseigneur. I leave that to Foulette. It suits him better.”

Villebon shot a swift glance at the tall haughty officer. He did not like the tone of his voice.

“Why have you come to me now, then? Have you any good news to offset the bad I have recently heard?”

Villieu smiled and stroked his black moustache.

“The Indians are anxious to see the commander. They wish to behold him in his full uniform of office, and listen to his words of wisdom before they leave for Meductic.”

“Ah, I supposed that was why you came to seeme. Yes, I shall go, presently. But they can wait a while. I am anxious to hear from you what happened along the coast.”

“Hasn’t Foulette informed you, Monseigneur?”

“He told me something, but I wish to hear what you have to say.”

“I am afraid I can add very little. The whole affair was a failure. We tried to surprise several places but met with no success. The English were alert and well prepared.”

“Did you make any attacks?”

“We had no chance until we reached Fort Reliance. We stormed the place, but were repulsed and lost several men. It was stronger than we imagined. We might have succeeded if some of the Frenchmen and Indians had not been so half-hearted.”

“So that was the main reason. I had considerable difficulty in persuading the Indians to go on that raid. They are half inclined to favor the English, and they dislike fighting against them.”

“You know the reason, Monseigneur?”

“I do. The English give them better prices for their furs. It is all due to Pete King and his gang of outlaws. They must be driven from the country. That League of the Crimson Sign must be crushed, and at once.”

Villieu concealed a cynical smile as he listened to these emphatic words.

“And how is that to be accomplished, Monseigneur? We cannot persuade the Indians to undertake the task, and it would be folly for us to go against the rebels with the few men we have here. Is there not some better and easier way?”

“I know of none. Do you?"

“Why not come to some understanding with the League of the Crimson Sign? Establish trade boundaries. This country is surely large enough for all. Let Pete King carry on his trading to the north and east of the Saganic, and that would leave you all the vast region to the west with the Saint John River and its tributaries. That should be enough to satisfy any man.”

“It would suit me, Villieu, but not Count Frontenac. He has ordered that the English be driven out of this country, so what am I to do? Here are letters I have received from him to-day, demanding that more drastic measures be taken against the enemy. And what irony that they have arrived at this time when you have returned from your unsuccessful expedition along the New England coast. If I had even several scalps to send to the Governor at Quebec they would prove to him that something is being done. But, Mon Dieu! I have nothing.”

“Except a captive girl, Monseigneur.”

“Ah! I had forgotten about her. Where is she?”

“With Gabriel Sorrell at Madame de Freneuse’s place.”

“Why did you leave her there?”

“She belongs to Sorrell, as he captured her. That is always the way, you know. The captor keeps his prize.”

“Yes, yes, I know. But under the circumstances she should have been brought here. But, then, it doesn’t matter. The news of the capture of several English forts, together with a string of scalps, would alone satisfy the Governor.”

“Perhaps this girl might satisfy him."

“No. The Governor is not that kind of a man.” Villebon’s voice was sharp, and Villieu smiled.

“I did not mean that, Monseigneur. But if he knew that the girl is Colonel Garland’s daughter it might somewhat appease him.”

At these words Villebon forgot the dignity of his position and leaped to his feet. His astonishment was great, and his body trembled from his excitement.

“Colonel Garland’s daughter!” he cried. “It can’t be true. No, no.”

“But it is, Monseigneur. She was captured and is now, no doubt, with Sorrell.”

For a few seconds the commander stared at his officer, and then slowly resumed his seat. He seemed like a man in a dream.

“It must be true. Yes, yes. But tell me about it, Villieu. How did it happen? What strange circumstance would permit such a man as Garland to allow his daughter to be captured?”

“There is not much to tell. We surprised Fort Reliance, and came upon it from the woods. The attack was totally unexpected, so the Colonel’s daughter and several others were making merry in a house a short distance away. Upon our approach they fled to the fort, and all escaped except the girl and an older woman. The latter tripped, and as the girl stopped to help her, she was captured by Sorrell.”

“I see, I see,” and Villebon stroked his pointed beard. “And what happened to the older woman?”

“You can easily guess, Monseigneur. She was not beautiful like the girl.”

“I understand. But why was not her scalp brought to me?"

Villieu shrugged a shoulder.

“Would you offer the scalp of an old woman to Count Frontenac? You would be the laughing-stock of all at Quebec.”

“True, true. But I am anxious to see Garland’s daughter. Is she beautiful?”

“Words cannot describe her, Monseigneur. Her eyes, her face, her hair, the poise of her head, and her form, Mon Dieu! I cannot express what she is like. You must see her yourself and then you will know.”

“I must, Villieu, and as soon as she can be brought here.”

“But she belongs to Sorrell, and–”

Villebon interrupted him with an impatient gesture.

“I am commander here, remember, and my word is law. The girl must be brought to this fort, otherwise she may escape.”

“That is impossible, Monseigneur. She is as safe with Sorrell as if she were here.”

“I am not so sure of that. The D’Armours are not to be trusted. I have suspected them for some time of being in close touch with the League of the Crimson Sign. It would be quite easy for them to hand the girl over to Pete King and his gang.”

He paused abruptly and remained lost in thought. Then his face brightened, and he struck the table with his right hand.

“I have it! Yes, I have it!” he exclaimed. “It is a great idea. I shall let the girl stay where she is for a few days and see what the D’Armours will do. If they attempt to effect her escape, I shall know for sure that they are traitors to me, and I shall deal with them according to their deserving. Look,Villieu, I want you to see that the girl is closely watched. Keep a sharp eye upon the D’Armours, too, especially the ones at the Jemseg. They are all cunning rascals, and Louis D’Armours and his wife annoy me greatly.”

“What about Madame Louise at the Oromocto, Monseigneur? Can you trust her?”

A flush of annoyance overspread the commander’s face.

“She is an Acadian Cleopatra, a she-devil, if ever there was one. Since her husband’s death she has made no end of trouble. I don’t know what to do with her. She keeps Count Frontenac informed of all that takes place here, and does everything in her power to injure me, while I am unable to retaliate.”

“It’s because of her remarkable beauty, Monseigneur. She fascinates everyone, both officers and men alike.”

“She bewitches them, for she is in league with the devil. She influences Count Frontenac and the Intendent, as well, and they believe every word she says. But if I can catch her trying to effect Colonel Garland’s daughter’s escape, it may open their eyes. That is my only hope, so attend to the matter at once, Villieu. I must go to the Indians now, as, no doubt, they are becoming impatient.”

The officer bowed, and was about to retire when Villebon detained him.

“Just a minute. Do you think there is any possibility of Colonel Garland coming to rescue his daughter?”

“Not the least. He knows what happened to Major Church when he attacked us.”

“Quite true. But what will not a man do to savehis daughter? Garland is a devil of a fighter, and the men he leads are the same. He would not make Church’s mistake and come up the river in a grand style. Oh, no, he would come by way of Chignecto, enlist the aid of the League of the Crimson Sign, use the inland waterways, and sweep down upon us with a strong force. We must not be caught off guard, I wish you to see that most reliable couriers are immediately dispatched to keep strict watch upon Pete King’s movements.”

“I shall do what I can, Monseigneur, but it will be a risky task to send couriers out over the country, for Pete King’s men are everywhere, and know all that is going on. However, I shall do what I can.”

“I know it is risky, Villieu, but risks must be taken in times such as these. Send the men, anyway. It will be better for them to be busy than wasting their time idling here. And, by the way, find out what you can about de La Valliere, of Chignecto. He is a very ambitious man, and anxious to become governor of Acadia. I am suspicious of him. He would not hesitate to make use of the English if he thought he could further his designs?”

“You seem to have many enemies, Monseigneur.”

“I have, indeed. I am surrounded by them, and at times I hardly know who are my friends.”

As Villieu left the building, a peculiar expression gleamed in his eyes, which it was well for him that Villebon did not see and understand.

CHAPTER III

AN ACADIAN CLEOPATRA

All the inhabitants at the Oromocto were standing upon the bank eagerly and anxiously watching the war canoes as they swept up river. They were only about fifteen people, mostly women and children, as the few men able to fight had gone with the raiding expedition. And had they come back? That was the question now in the minds of the wives and the children as they stood there with eyes fixed intently upon the rapidly-approaching flotilla. Through long weeks they had waited and prayed for the safe return of their loved ones. They knew of other expeditions that had gone forth, and some of the men had not come back. So now that the canoes were near, what news would they bring?

A little apart from the others stood Madame Louise D’Armours. She spoke to no one, and her face showed no sign of emotion. She might have been watching some canoes besporting themselves upon the river for all the interest she seemed to show. But this silent woman was keenly alert to all that was taking place. Every minute she expected the canoes would turn shoreward, and either ringing shouts of victory or war cries of anger would rend the air. But as the crafts kept on their way and no salutation was given, she understood, and a glow of satisfaction appeared in her eyes. Villebon’sraiders had been defeated, and she was glad. It was some compensation for the lies he had told Count Frontenac about the D’Armours. She longed to see the commander and gloat over his consternation when the war party reached the fort on the Nashwaak and reported their failure.

So taken up was she with this thought that she hardly noticed when one canoe detached itself from the others and headed for the shore. But when it touched land and the women and children ran down to meet it, Madame Louise stepped forward. She was not concerned about the welcome the men were receiving, for her eyes had caught sight of someone seated in the bottom of the canoe. At first she imagined she had not seen aright, or what she beheld was only a vision. But as she looked at Helen Garland a feeling of awe came into her cold heart. And there was reason for this. The captive was no ordinary girl. Strength of mind, dignity and refinement were plainly stamped upon her face of outstanding beauty. Her long dark unbound hair flowed in rippling waves over her cheeks and shoulders. Her mouth, in calm repose now, was expressive of sweetness and laughter. All this Madame Louise quickly noted. But it was the girl’s eyes which held her spellbound. They were questioning eyes, guileless as those of a child, silently appealing for help. For a moment the heart of the staring woman upon the bank was strangely moved. The sight of this girl stirred for a few fleeting seconds the faint flickering embers of nobleness and purity within her soul. This was quickly succeeded, however, by the spirit of envy. She realised that the captive possessed something which she herselfcould never have again. It angered her, and a desire entered her heart to make this girl like herself.

At Gabriel Sorrell’s order, Helen Garland rose to her feet and stepped ashore. She was much cramped from sitting so long in the canoe, and she swayed a little from weakness. Noticing this, Madame Sorrell placed an arm tenderly about the girl’s body. She was repaid with a grateful smile, and a firm white hand clasped her own, hardened and rough through toil. In this woman the girl knew she had a friend, and the thought comforted her burdened heart.

Madame Louise in the meantime was talking with Gabriel, asking him questions about the captive. When she learned who she was, her interest increased. Here was no common girl, but the daughter of a noted English commander. She thought of the officers at the Nashwaak, and of others who occasionally came to the river from Quebec. What effect would this girl have upon them? Hitherto she herself had been the object of their attention and admiration. They had been fascinated by her charms, and she was known as the most beautiful woman in Acadia. Now, however, she would have a rival, and in her mind she could see her own light dimmed in the presence of this new luminary. Beautiful women were rare in Acadia, especially in the great region along the Saint John. The fame of this English girl would soon be known in Quebec, and officers would find no end of excuses for visiting the river. They might come even from Port Royal. A fierce jealousy burned in her heart as she thought of these things while listening to Gabriel.

“It was well that the girl fell into my hands,Madame,” he declared. “If Foulette had captured her, Mon Dieu! But I have kept her safe, though it was hard work at times.”

“Did Foulette try to get her from you?”

“He did, and I almost laid my hands upon him once. If it hadn’t been for Villieu I do not know what I should have done.”

“Ah! So Villieu was friendly to the girl?”

“He was, but not like Foulette. He only wanted to save the girl from harm. Villieu is an honorable man, and after the way he helped me I won’t listen to a word against him.”

“But Villebon doesn’t like him, Gabriel. He feels he is not to be trusted.”

“I don’t know anything about that, Madame. All I know is that Villieu acted very honorably towards this English girl.”

All had been listening eagerly to this conversation except Helen Garland, as she did not understand a word that was being said. She was very tired, weak and lonely. But for the presence of Madame Sorrell she felt that she could endure no more. Her nerves were strained to the breaking-point. She longed to hear her own language. But all around her spoke in another tongue.

And while she stood there, wondering what would happen to her, a boy came limping forth from the rear of the assembled people. He was about ten years of age, and he advanced timidly as if afraid of his boldness. His face was pale and careworn, his clothes old and in tatters, and his feet were bare. But all these were at once forgotten by the brightness of his eyes. They were filled with an intense eagerness as he approached the girl. All were watching him, wondering what he intended to do.When a few feet away, he stopped and looked up into the captive’s face. He then took a step nearer, reached out a trembling hand and touched her dress, as if she were some divine being. But when a smile illumined Helen’s face, his awe vanished and his eyes grew bright with joy.

“Are you English?” he asked in a quivering voice.

At the sound of these words Helen Garland started and looked keenly and hopefully into the boy’s face.

“I am. Are you?”

“Yes, and I am ‘young English’ here, but my right name is David Hardy. I was captured by Indians over three years ago, and have been with the French ever since.”

“What place is this?” Helen inquired. “And who is that beautiful woman?”

“This is the Oromocto, and that woman is Madame Louise D’Armours, who owns a great deal of land. Her husband died after the attack upon the Nashwaak Fort. We all work for Madame now.”

Madame Louise was becoming impatient at this conversation which she could not understand, although she heard her own name mentioned. She told Gabriel and his wife to take the girl to their house, and she sent the rest away, except David whom she ordered to remain. As Helen listened to her stern voice, and caught the cold gleam in her eyes which were fixed upon her, a new fear came into her heart. She intuitively knew that this woman was her enemy, and wondered why. She longed to ask David more about her, but there was no opportunity. Silently she walked by the side of Madame Sorrell along the little path which wound its way among the trees. In this woman, anyway,she had a friend, and that meant a great deal to her just then.

Madame Louise stood watching the girl until she disappeared among the trees. She then turned to the waiting lad.

“Young English, what did that girl say to you?”

“Not much, Madame, for there was little time. She asked the name of this place, and your name, too. She said, ‘Who is that beautiful woman?’”

“It could not have been me she meant, young English. It must have been Madame LeRocher. I am not beautiful.”

“But you are, Madame, the most beautiful woman I ever saw.”

“More beautiful than that English girl?”