“Oh, Mother dear! I had rather trust to the simples of the old squaw, Oneonta. Truly, Madame Fontaine is so timid, as are all women just come over from Paris, and old Oneonta is far wiser than she. Thou may’st safely trust us to her, and thou wilt go, wilt thou not?”
“As I said at the first, ’t is a temptation to make the journey ere the winter shuts us in. And perchance I can persuade thy Tante Madeleine to return with me for the winter. This is the twentieth of October. Yes, will go, and stay but for the days of All Saints and All Souls. Yet tell me, Madeleine,” Madame said, the mother’s anxiety again gaining control, “tell me, if the Iroquois should come, what could’st thou do?”
“Why, truly, none knowest better than thou, brave little Mother, that the best way to meet them is with boldness. So, if an Iroquois should come,” cried the girl, gaily springing up and seizing a light cane standing in the corner, “I would point my gun at him—so!—and then—bang!—I would say, ‘Avaunt, Monsieur Iroquois?’ and off he would go.”
Preparations for a journey in those days were simple, and the next morning Madame de Verchères waved a farewell from the boat, as it slipped away against the current, to her children, who had come down to the landing to see her off. Madeleine stood between her two little brothers, her arms thrown across their shoulders, and close behind them stood an ald serving-man, Laviolette, his white hair blowing in the fresh morning breeze.
When the boat had passed from sight, they turned from the landing, and made their way back to where the fort stood, encircled by a high stockade, although a leaning post here and there showed that it was not of recent building. Within the stockade stood a block-house, strongly fortified with bastions at each corner, as there were also at the corners of the fort. The place showed that it had been planned by a military man; its general air of defense showed that it was built with the thought of an ever possible enemy; yet a certain air of relaxed vigilance showed that, at present at least, the possible enemy was not considered a probable one.
Madeleine played merry games of soldiers with the boys, drilling them thoroughly, and planning delightful ambuscades in the odd nooks of the fort and the covered way which connected it with the block-house, until the short autumn day came to an end. Soon after sunset, the gate was closed and barred, and before long, all were asleep: while the pines of the forest whispered their lullaby, the waters of the St, Lawrence plashed and murmured throughout the night, and the hoot of the owls sounded, now on this side, now on that, of the lonely seigniory of Verchères.
When morning dawn it was another clear October day, The habitants were early at work in the fields. Some of the soldiers (there were but a handful at the fort) went into the woods, hunting. Two of their number, La Bonté and Gachet, were left behind, sorely against their will; but the Seignior de Verchères was strict in his military discipline, and even in his absence the soldiers dared not leave the fort wholly unguarded, in spite of the apparent peace, So as the lot fell upon these two men, they stayed, though with an ill grace, Madeleine, leaving her two brothers at play within the fort, went again to the river-landing, attended by Laviolette, hoping that some passing canoe might bring some message from her father in Quebec, or of her mother’s safe arrival in Montreal. Laviolette, having provided himself with a pole and line, stood placidly fishing, while Madeleine, seated on the edge of the little wharf, idly watched him. On the side of the river on which they were, the land was cleared for quite a distance in both directions, In the fertile meadows on the river’s bank, the settlers could be scen at work, while nearer the fort stretched in a line the cottages of the habitants. On the other side, the forest rose in its primeval beauty, the dark pines mingling with the brilliant red and yellow foliage of the deciduous trees.
Suddenly, from the borders of the fields where the men were working, came the sudden sharp crack of guns; a habitant fell, then another. The quiet air was rent with the shriek of the piercing war-whoop, and from the woods which bordered the clearing burst a troop of Indians, hideous in their war-paint.
“Quick, Mademoiselle,—the Iroquois! they are upon us!” cried Laviolette, and seizing her arm, they fled together for the fort, fortunately for them a straight path, and not a long one. The light feet of the young girl and the long strides of the old man, who had been a famous runner in his youth, covered the ground so rapidly that the Indians soon saw that they could not capture the fugitives alive before the fort was reached, so they stopped in their headlong pursuit, and began firing, To the terrified girl, with the bullets singing around her ears, the way seemed very long, and that her flying feet scarcely moved.
“Father in heaven, save me—save us all!” she prayed, and at last reached the gate of the fort.
Her two brothers, with grave, anxious faces, ran to meet her.
“Oh, Madeleine, thou art safe! We thought thou would’st be killed. Oh, if Father were here! Tell us, Sister, what shall we do?”
