AN ADVENTURE UNDERGROUND

A HEAVILY-BUILT man in shirt-sleeves, with a strong, good-humored face, and a shock of gray hair, appeared beside the girl in the doorway.

"'Tis not the same scamp I that kissed you, Josette," he exclaimed, after examining me intently in the dim light, "but I doubt not he may prove of similar breed, and it behooves you to be careful where you stand."

"Has De Croix been here?" I questioned, scarcely deeming it possible he could have outstripped me in our race through the night.

"I know not the rascal's name," was the reply, in the man's deep voice, "but certain I am there was one here scarce ten minutes agone asking after this same Matherson girl. Saint James! but she must have made some sweet acquaintances, judging from the looks of her callers! Josette has been rubbing the fellow's kiss off her lips ever since he caught her unawares."

"He was a dandified young fellow?" I urged, impatient to be off, yet eager to be sure.

The girl laughed lightly, her roguish eyes ablaze with merriment.

"He might be sometime, Monsieur," she cried, evidently glad to talk, "but to-night he reminded me of those scare-crows the farmers near Quebec keep in their fields; a little chap, with a bit of turned-up mustache, and a bright eye, but rags,—gracious, such rags as he wore!"

'Twas De Croix, there could be no doubt of it,—De Croix, torn and dishevelled by his mad rush through the darkness, but with no shred of his reckless audacity gone. There was naught left, me now but to race back upon his trail, hopeful for some chance that might yet allow me to come in first on the return journey. In my throat I swore one thing,—the graceless villain should never collect his reward at both ends of his journey. He had already stolen the sweets from Josette's red lips, but he should never claim those of Mademoiselle. I lingered for but a single question more.

"But this Elsa Matherson,—she is not here, then?"

"No," returned Mr. Kinzie, somewhat gruffly, "and has not been since the closing of the gates of the Fort. I think you are a parcel of mad fools, to be chasing around on such an errand; yet humanity leads me to bid you come in. There is not a safe foot of ground to-night for any strange white man within three hundred miles of Dearborn."

I glanced about me into the black shadows, startled at his solemn words of warning. Away to the southward a faint glimmer told of the location of the Fort; farther to the west, a sudden blaze swept up into the sky, reflected in ruddy radiance on the clouds, and the thought came to me that the savages had put torch to the deserted cabin on the south branch of the river.

"No doubt 'tis true," I answered hastily; "yet, whatever the danger may be, I must regain the stockade before dawn."

I saw him step forward, as if he would halt me in my purpose; but, wishing to be detained no longer, my thoughts being all with De Croix and Mademoiselle, I turned away quickly and plunged back into the darkness.

"You young fool!" he called after me, "come back, or your life will be the forfeit!"

Without so much as answering, I ran silently in my moccasins to the spot where I had left Ol' Tom Burns. He sat upon his stump, motionless, apparently without the slightest interest in anything going on about him.

"Ol' Kinzie was gol-dern polite ter ye, sonny," he commented. "Reckon if an Injun was a scalpin' me right on his front doorstep he'd never hev asked me ter walk inside like that! He an' me sorter drew on each other 'bout a year ago, down at Lee's shebang; an' he don't 'pear ter fergit 'bout it."

"Show me the nearest safe passage to the Fort," I said, interrupting him, almost rudely.

He got up slowly, and cast his eyes with deliberation southward.

"Oh, thar ain't no sich special hurry, I reckon," he answered with an exasperating drawl. "We'll be thar long afore daylight,—perviding allers we don't hit no Injuns meantime,—an' the slower we travel the less chance thar is o' thet."

"But, friend Burns," I urged, "it is a racing matter. I must reach there in advance of another man, who has already been here ahead of me."

"Sol sorter reckoned from what I heerd; but ye needn't rip the shirt off ye on thet account. The feller can't git in thar till after daylight, nohow. Them sojers is too blame skeered ter open the gates in the dark, an' all the critter'll git if he tries it will be a volley o' lead; so ye might just as well take it easylike."

The old man's philosophy seemed sound. De Croix would certainly not gain admittance until he could make himself known to the guard, and, carefully as the stockade was now patrolled, it was hardly probable he would be permitted to approach close enough for identification during the night. De Croix was no frontiersman, and was reckless to a degree; yet his long training as a soldier would certainly teach him a measure of caution in approaching a guarded fort at such a time.

"Tis doubtless true," I admitted, "yet I shall feel safer if we push on at once."

"Ye called the feller De Croix, didn't ye?" he asked. "Is it the French dandy as was at Hawkins's?"

"Yes," I answered, "and I guess you don't care much to help him."

Burns wasted no breath in reply, but moved forward with noiseless step. Glancing back, I could clearly perceive Kinzie framed in the light of his open door. The vivacious French lass stood beside him, peering curiously out across his broad shoulders. Then we sank into the blackness of the ravine, and everything was blotted from our sight.

Burns evidently knew the intricacies of the path leading to the Fort gate, for I soon felt my feet upon a beaten track, and stumbled no more over the various obstacles that rendered my former progress so uncertain. My guide moved with excessive caution, as it seemed to me, frequently pausing to peer forward into the almost impenetrable darkness, and sniffing the night-air suspiciously as if hoping thus to locate any lurking foes when his keen eyes failed in the attempt. So dark was it that I had almost to tread upon his heels in order to follow him, as not the slightest sound came from his stealthy advance. As he surmounted the steeper inclines of land, I was able to perceive him dimly, usually leaning well forward and moving with the utmost caution, his long rifle held ready for instant use. As we drew nearer the river,—or where I supposed the river must be, for I could distinguish but little of our position,—he swerved from the footpath we were following, and the way instantly grew rougher to our feet.

"Reckon we'd better hit the crick a bit below the Fort," he muttered, over his shoulder; "less likely ter find Injuns waitin' fer us thar."

"You think there are savages on this shore?"

He turned partially, and peered at me through the darkness.

"I never heerd tell as Injuns was fools," he answered briefly. "In course thar's some yere, an' we're almighty likely ter find 'em."

On the bank of the river, which I could see dimly by the faint light of a star or two that had broken through the cloud-rifts, he paused suddenly, sniffing the air like a pointer dog.

"The gol-dern fools!" he muttered, striking his rifle-butt on the ground with an expression of disgust. "They've gone and done it now!"

"Done what?" I questioned, almost guessing his meaning as a pungent odor assailed my nostrils. "That smells like rum!"

"'Tis rum. Dern if ever I see whar the A'mighty finds so many blame idjits ter make sojers of! Them ar' fellers in the Fort wern't in tight 'nough pickle, with a thousand savages howlin' 'bout 'em, so they've went an' poured all their liquor inter the river! If I know Injun nature, it jist means the craziest lot o' redskins, whin they find it out, ever was on these yere plains. I bet they make thet fool garrison pay mighty big fer this job!"

"You mean the destruction of the liquor will anger them?"

"Anger? It'll drive 'em plum crazy,—they'll be ravin' maniacs! It's the hope o' spoils thet's held 'em back so long. They've wanted the Fort to be 'vacuated, so as they could plunder it,—thet's been the song o' the chiefs to hold their young men from raisin' ha'r. But come, sonny, thar's nothin' gained a-stayin' here, an' dern me if I want ter meet any Injun with thet thar smell in the air. I don't swim no river smellin' like thet one does. We'll hev ter go further up, I reckon, an' cross over by the ol' agency buildin'."

We crept up the edge of the stream, keeping well in under the north bank, and moving with the utmost caution, for the chances were strong that this portion of the river would be closely watched by the redskins. We met with no obstacle, however, nor were we apparently even observed from the stockade, as we slowly passed its overhanging shadow. I could distinguish clearly its dark outlines, even making out a head or two moving above the palisades; but no hail of any kind rang out across the intervening water, and we were soon beyond the upper block-house, where a faint light yet shone. We could see the dim shape of the two-story factory building, looking gloomy and deserted on the south shore. Burns lay flat at the water's edge, studying the building intently; and his extreme caution made me a bit nervous, although I could scarcely determine why, for I had thus far marked not the slightest sign of danger.

"I reckon we'll hev ter risk it," he said at length, as he bound his powder-horn upon his head with a dark cloth. "Come right 'long arter me, and don't make no splashin'."

He slipped off so silently that I scarcely knew he was gone, until I missed the dark outline of his figure at my side. With all possible caution, I followed him. The current was not strong, but I partially faced it, and struck out with a long, steady stroke, so that my progress, as nearly as I could judge, was almost directly across the stream. Burns had been completely lost to my sight, although as I looked along the slightly glistening water I could see for some distance ahead. I remember a black log bearing silently down upon me, and how I shrank from contact with it, fearful lest it might conceal some human thing. Soon after it had swirled by, my feet touched the shelving bank, and I crept cautiously up into the overhanging shadow. Burns was there, and had already reconnoitred our position; for my first knowledge of his presence came when he slowly lowered himself down the bank until he lay close beside me.

"They're thar," he said, soberly. "Thought most likely they wud be."

"Indians?" I asked, doubtfully,—for I had an impression the factory might be garrisoned by some of our own people.

"Sure; I heerd as how the sojers hed been drawed in, an' naturally reckoned the Injuns wouldn't be over-long findin' it out. 'Nother fool thing fer the sojers ter dew."

He paused, listening intently. In the silence, above the slight sound of the running water, I felt sure I could distinguish voices speaking not far distant.

"It's no place yere ter stay," he whispered, his lips close at my ear. "Reckon best thing we kin dew now is to find one o' the sojers' root-caves somewhar along the bank, an' crawl in thar till daylight. The Injuns ain't so likely to bother us when the guards kin see 'em from the Fort. They don't want no out-'n'-out fuss, to my notion, till they kin git inter the stockade for good. Creep 'long yere with me, sonny, an' 't won't be far till I find a hole somewhar thet'll hide us fer awhile anyhow."

We crawled slowly along, snake-fashion, at the edge of the river, for perhaps thirty feet, our movements hidden by the high and slightly overhanging bank at our left. The night was so dark that Burns relied more upon feeling than sight to guide him. At last he stopped suddenly.

"Here's one o' 'em," he said. "Crawl along in, sonny; thar's lots o' room after ye go a foot er two."

It was the merest hole dug into the bank, roughly lined with irregular bits of rock, which opened out into quite a cellar about a yard from the surface. The air within felt somewhat chill and damp, as I put my head cautiously down the narrow opening; but there seemed no cause for fear, and I crept nimbly forward, feeling my way as I advanced along the rude mud walls. I could hear Burns behind me on his hands and knees, puffing slightly as he squeezed through the small aperture that led into the larger chamber.

I had advanced perhaps two yards without reaching the end of this odd underground apartment, when suddenly, and directly in my front, there sounded a deep, hollow, unearthly groan. The sound was so terrifying that I stopped with chilled blood and beating heart, gripping my knife-hilt and peering forward into the dark as frightened as ever I was in my life. I heard Burns gasp and half turn; then, before I could move, even had I dared venture such a thing, an instantaneous flash lit up the black interior. I caught one confused glimpse of a huge object, topped with a head of tumbled hair, of two flapping wings stretching out upon either side, and then the impenetrable curtain of the dark hid everything once more. Sweat bathed me in cold drops; nor could I have moved a limb to save my life. Behind me Burns was muttering what might have been a prayer; when the thing groaned again, a hollow, awful moan, thrilling with agony, that sent me grovelling upon my face as nearly dead as one could well be and yet breathe and know.