Beyond the Frontier. Randall Parrish

before La Barre can forward a report. But, sacre! my young chanticleer, surely you are not here to bring me this bit of news. You sought me, you said? Well, for what purpose?”

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      “In peace, Monsieur. Because I have served Sieur de la Salle loyally is no reason why we should be enemies. We are both the King’s men, and may work together. The word has come to me that you head a party for the Illinois, with instructions for De Baugis at Fort St. Louis. Is this true?”

      Cassion bowed coldly, waiting to discover how much more his questioner knew.

      “Ah, then I am right thus far. Well, Monsieur, ’twas on that account I came, to volunteer as guide.”

      “You! ’Twould be treachery.”

      “Oh, no; our interests are the same so far as the journey goes. I would reach St. Louis; so would you. Because we may have different ends in view, different causes to serve, has naught to do with the trail thither. There is not a man who knows the way as well as I. Four times have I traveled it, and I am not a savage, Monsieur––I am a gentleman of France.”

      “And you pledge your word?”

      “I pledge my word––to guide you safe to Fort St. Louis. Once there I am comrade to Sieur de la Salle.”

      “Bah! I care not who you comrade with, once you serve my purpose. I take your offer, and if you play me false––”

      “Restrain your threats, Monsieur Cassion. A quarrel will get us nowhere. You have my word of honor; ’tis enough. Who will compose the party?”

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      Cassion hesitated, yet seemed to realize the uselessness of deceit.

      “A dozen or more soldiers of the Regiment of Picardy, some couriers du bois, and the Indian paddlers. There will be four boats.”

      “You go by the Ottawa, and the lakes?”

      “Such were my orders.”

      “’Tis less fatiguing, although a longer journey; and the time of departure?”

      Cassion laughed, as he turned slightly, and bowed to me.

      “We leave Quebec before dawn Tuesday,” he said gaily. “It is my wish to enjoy once more the follies of civilization before plunging into the wilderness. The Governor permits that we remain to his ball. Mademoiselle la Chesnayne does me the honor of being my guest on that occasion.”

      “I, Monsieur!” I exclaimed in surprise at his boastful words. “’Twas my uncle who proposed––”

      “Tut, tut, what of that?” he interrupted in no way discomposed. “It is my request which opens the golden gates. The good Hugo here but looks on at a frivolity for which he cares nothing. ’Tis the young who dance. And you, Monsieur de Artigny, am I to meet you there also, or perchance later at the boat landing?”

      The younger man seemed slow in response, but 14 across Cassion’s shoulder our eyes met. I know not what he saw in the glance of mine, for I gave no sign, yet his face brightened, and his words were carelessly spoken.

      “At the ball, Monsieur. ’Tis three years since I have danced to measure, but it will be a joy to look on, and thus keep company with Monsieur Chevet. Nor shall I fail you at the boats: until then, Messieurs,” and he bowed hat in hand, “and to you, Mademoiselle, adieu.”

      We watched him go down the grape arbor to the canoe, and no one spoke but Cassion.

      “Pouf! he thinks well of himself, that young cockerel, and ’twill likely be my part to clip his spurs. Still ’tis good policy to have him with us, for ’tis a long journey. What say you, Chevet?”

      “That he is one to watch,” answered my uncle gruffly. “I trust none of La Salle’s brood.”

      “No, nor I, for the matter of that, but I am willing to pit my brains against the best of them. Francois Cassion is not likely to be caught asleep, my good Hugo.”

      He turned about, and glanced questioningly into my face.

      “And so, Mademoiselle, it did not altogether please you to be my guest at the ball? Perchance you preferred some other gallant?”

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      The sunlight, flickering through the leaves, rested on his face, and brought out the mottled skin of dissipation, the thin line of his cruel lips, the insolent stare of his eyes. I felt myself shrink, dreading he might touch me; yet dominating all else was the thought of De Artigny––the message of his glance, the secret meaning of his pledge––the knowledge that he would be there. So I smiled, and made light of his suspicion.

      “It was but surprise, Monsieur,” I said gaily “for I had not dreamed of such an honor. ’Tis my wish to go; see, I have been working on a new gown, and now I must work the faster.”

      I swept him a curtsey, smiling to myself at the expression of his face, and before he could speak had disappeared within. Bah! I would escape those eyes and be alone to dream.

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CHAPTER II

       Table of Contents

THE CHOICE OF A HUSBAND

       Table of Contents

      It was just before dark when Monsieur Cassion left us, and I watched him go gladly enough, hidden behind the shade of my window. He had been talking for an hour with Chevet in the room below; I could hear the rattle of glasses, as though they drank, and the unpleasant arrogance of his voice, although no words reached me clearly. I cared little what he said, although I wondered at his purpose in being there, and what object he might have in this long converse with my uncle. Yet I was not sent for, and no doubt it was some conference over furs, of no great interest. The two were in some scheme I knew to gain advantage over Sieur de la Salle, and were much elated now that La Barre held power; but that was nothing for a girl to understand, so I worked on with busy fingers, my mind not forgetful of the young Sieur de Artigny.

      It was not that I already loved him, yet ever since girlhood the memory of him had remained in my thought, and in those years since I had met so few young men that the image left on my imagination had 17 never faded. Indeed, it had been kept alive by the very animosity which my uncle cherished against Monsieur de la Salle. The real cause of his bitterness, outside of trade rivalry, I never clearly understood, but he was ever seeking every breath of gossip from that distant camp of adventurers, and angrily commenting thereon. Again and again I overheard him conspiring with others in a vain effort to influence Frontenac to withdraw his support of that distant expedition, and it was this mutual enmity which first brought Cassion to our cabin.

      With Frontenac’s removal, and the appointment of La Barre as Governor, the hopes of La Salle’s enemies revived, and when Cassion’s smooth tongue won him a place as Commissaire, all concerned became more bold and confident in their planning. I knew little of it, yet sufficient to keep the remembrance of those adventures fresh in my mind, and never did they recur to me without yielding me vision of the ardent young face of De Artigny as he waved me adieu from the canoe. Often in those years of silence did I dream of him amid the far-off wilderness––the idle dreaming of a girl whose own heart was yet a mystery––and many a night I sat at my window gazing out upon the broad river shimmering in the moonlight, wondering at those wilderness mysteries among which he lived.

      Yet only once in all those years had I heard mention 18 of his name. ’Twas but a rumor floating back to us of how La Salle had reached the mouth of a great river flowing into the South Sea, and among the few who accompanied him was De Artigny. I remember yet how strangely my heart throbbed as I heard the brief tale