THE LAST NIGHT AT DEARBORN

I IT was evident that preparations were even then well under way for retreat the following morning. Trunks and boxes, together with various military stores and arms, strewed the sides of the parade-ground; farther back, a number of wagons, partially filled, stood waiting the remainder of their loads. Men and women were hastening back and forth, and children were darting through the shadows, their little arms piled high with bundles, and making play, as children ever will, of what was to prove an awful tragedy. A large fire, burning brightly before the deserted guard-house, cast its ruddy glow over the animated scene, checkering the rude walls with every passing shadow.

I noticed, as I slowly pushed my way along, that the soldiers worked seriously, with few jests on their lips, as if they realized the peril that menaced them; while many among the women, especially those of the humbler sort, were rejoicing over the early release from garrison monotony, and careless of what the morrow might bring of danger and suffering.

A few steps from the gate, I paused for a moment that I might watch their flitting figures, the incessant bustle being a positive relief after the dull and ghostly silence without. My mind,—though I strove to cast the thought aside,—was still occupied with the mystery of Elsa Matherson; but the more I dwelt upon it, the less I was able to penetrate the secret of her strange presence in the Indian camp, or devise any scheme for reaching her. The ache in my heart made me dread to meet again with Mademoiselle Toinette, lest I should utter words of reproach which she did not deserve; for, sad as such a confession was, I had to acknowledge that she had a perfect right to protect the man she loved, even at my cost.

Nor did I greatly desire to run upon De Croix. I knew his temper fairly well, and doubtless by this time he had learned the story of my interference, and would be in fit mood for a quarrel. Still, as seems often to be the case at such a time, before I had taken a dozen steps away from the gate, I met him face to face. It was a jaunty picture he made in the glare of the fire, the fine gentleman sauntering lazily about with hat of bleached straw pushed rakishly upon his powdered hair, and a light cane dangling at his wrist, as fashionably attired as if he were loitering upon the boulevards of an August evening, his negro man a yard behind, bearing a silken fan which flashed golden in the radiance. At sight of him, I stopped instantly, ready enough to resent attack if that had been his purpose, though anxious to avoid violence for the sake of Mademoiselle. But he merely laughed as he surveyed me critically, swinging his bamboo stick as if it were a whip-lash.

"Parbleu, Master Wayland!" he said, seeming in rare good-humor, "I this moment learned of your safe return. 'Twould have been an excellent joke had the savage found excuse to retain you out yonder, to form a part of one of their delightful entertainments! Fit revenge, indeed, for the foul deceit you played upon me!"

"Think you so, Monsieur?" for his easy words relieved me greatly. "It would have been one less arm for our defence."

"With safe convoy guaranteed by the Indian chiefs, that loss would make small odds," he replied carelessly. "But, truly, that was a most scurvy trick you played to gain the wager which was offered me. But for the happy ending, I should be sorely tempted to break this cane across your shoulders in payment therefor."

"Indeed!" I said; "the act might not be as easily accomplished as you imagine. But what mean you by happy ending? Had the savages roasted me over a slow fire, I should hardly be here for the pleasure of your chastisement."

He laughed lightly, his eyes wandering carelessly over the throng of figures in front of us.

"Saint Guise! I thought not about your predicament, but rather of the happiness which came to me in the society of Mademoiselle. In faith, she was most gracious with her favor. 'Tis thus you did me a great kindness, friend, and have won my gratitude."

The words were as stinging as he meant them to be, for I marked his quick glance into my face. So I held my resentment well in check, and smiled back at him, apparently unconcerned.

"Then we are again even, Monsieur," I returned quietly, "and can start anew upon our score. But why should I remain here to discuss matters of such small import, with all this work unfinished which fronts strong men to-night? I will break my long fast, and turn to beside these others."

He seemed to have further words to say; but I minded him not, and pushed past, leaving him to saunter where he willed, accompanied by his black satellite. If I could not win Mademoiselle, as I now felt assured from his boastful speech I could not, I might at least work for her greater safety and comfort; and there was much I could do to help in burying my own disappointment.

For all that, it was a night to live long in the memory,—that last night we spent at Dearborn. It remains a rare jumble in my mind,—its varied incidents crowding so fast upon each other as to leave small room for thought regarding any one of them. Without, the dim black plain stretched away in unbroken solemnity and silence; nor did the sentinels posted along the walls catch glimpse of so much as a skulking Indian form amid the grass and sand. A half-moon was in the sky, with patches of cloud now and then shadowing it, and in the intervals casting its faint silver over the lonely expanse and tipping the crest of the waves as they crept in upon the beach. The great Indian village to the westward was fairly ablaze with fires; while the unending procession of black dots that flitted past them, together with the echo of constant uproar, showed that the savages were likewise astir in eager preparation for the morrow. We could hear the pounding of wooden drums, mingled with shrill yells that split the night-air like so many war-missiles. Only those above, upon the platform, could mind these things; for the bustle within the enclosure below continued unabated until long after midnight.

The report of our mission spread rapidly, and the pledge of protection given by the chiefs greatly heartened the men, so that they worked now with many a peal of laughter and careless jest. The women and children, ever quick to feel the influence of the soldiers, responded at once to this new feeling of confidence, which was encouraged by the officers, however they may have secretly doubted the good-faith of the savages. So the children tumbled about in the red glare of the flames, the soldiers swung their traps into the waiting wagons with good-natured badinage, their brawny breasts bare and glistening with sweat in the hot night; while, as the hour grew late and discipline sensibly relaxed, the women danced in the open and sang songs of home.

It was hard enough to realize what it all meant,—what hardship and suffering and death lay just before these rejoicing people; what depths of cruel treachery and murder lurked for them so few hours away. We did not suspect it then; not even those among us who had long learned the deceit of Indian nature could unroll the shadowing veil of that morrow and reveal the forthcoming tragedy of those silent plains. I remember that, doubtful as I felt about the future, I could look on with interest at the busy scene, and that more than once a smile lay upon my lips. What an odd variety of figures that congested place disclosed! what strange life-histories were having their culmination there! I saw Ensign Ronan, young, slender, smooth of face, appearing scarce more than a boy, his short fatigue-jacket buttoned to the throat in spite of the heat, hurrying here and there in his enthusiasm, ever upon his lips some happy phrase to take the sting from his word of command. Lieutenant Helm, calm but observant of every detail, moved in and out among the busy throng, every now and then stealing aside to speak a word of encouragement to his young wife, who stood watching by the mess-room door. There was quite a bevy gathered there, officers' wives for the most part, gazing in mingled interest and apprehension upon the scene. I marked among them Josette, who had come in that evening with the Kinzies; and as I drew yet nearer the group, a sudden blazing up of the fire yielded me a glimpse of Mademoiselle, and I turned hastily away, unwilling still to greet or be greeted by her.

Gaunt frontiersmen stalked about, having little to save and nothing to do, with the inevitable long rifle held in the hollow of the arm; Captain Wells's Miamis skulked uneasily in dark corners, or hung over the embers to cook some ration yet unused, their dark skins and long coarse hair a reminder to us of the hostiles who watched without. Captain Heald, in company with Captain Wells and John Kinzie, the latter conspicuous by his white beard, stood long in deep converse near the barracks, leaning against the black logs. I felt the two latter were urging some change of plan; but in the end Wells left in vexation, almost in anger, striding across the parade-ground to the northern block-house.

In the shadow of the south stockade, some one was softly playing upon a violin, the sweet notes stealing up through the wild hubbub in strains of silvery sound. Close upon one side of the fire, forgetful of the heat in their deep interest, two young soldiers were engrossed in a game of cards, while a group of comrades commented freely on the fortunes of the play. Scarcely a yard distant, a grizzled old sergeant,—a veteran of the great war, no doubt,—bent above a book held open upon his knee, the shape of which bespoke a Bible; while on the other side a bevy of children were romping with their dogs or playing with sharp knives in the hard ground. A woman over by the gate lifted a sweet contralto voice in an old-time love-song, and had hardly lilted the opening line before others joined her, making the night resound to the tender melody. I saw the soldiers pause in their work to beat time, and marked the dark forms of the sentries above on the palisades as they leaned over to listen, every heart set throbbing with the memory of days gone by.

"Man is indeed a strange animal," said a voice beside me, and I turned to greet Ensign Ronan. "He can sing, laugh, and jest, in death's very teeth."

"'Tis better, surely, than to cry," I commented. "But these do not so much as dream of death; the pledge of the Pottawattomies has brought renewed hope."

"Yes, I know; though I confess I have little faith in it. And there will be plenty of danger about us before we see Fort Wayne, even if they pass us in safety around the lake. There will be leagues of travel through hostile territory. That," he added, "is, to my mind, the only sensible way of preparation for the morrow."

He pointed to the old sergeant seated beside the fire with his Bible; and I glanced into his boyish face with no little surprise.

"Some remark Surgeon Van Voorhis made caused me to deem you indifferent in such matters."

"No doubt," he said, dryly. "If one does not subscribe to the creeds, he is written down a heretic. I have laughed at folly, and so have won the reputation of being an unbeliever. Yet, Wayland, if we ride forth to a savage death to-morrow, no one will meet it with more faith in Christ than I. The years indeed have not left me spotless, but I have never wavered from the great truths my mother taught me. I know not the future, lad, but I believe there is ever mercy for the penitent."

In an instant my own thought spanned the leagues of forest to my distant home; and I choked back a sob within my throat.

"It is our mothers' love that makes us all better men," I said gravely. "And whatever may befall us upon the morrow, that God of whom they taught us will be true."

"The words are spoken in the right spirit," he returned, soberly, "and have the soldier ring I like best to hear. If it chance that we both come forth from this venture in life, I should be most glad to know you better."

I was deeply touched by his open, manly spirit, and especially impressed with his frank adherence to the Christian faith, something too uncommon in that day along the border.

"'Tis rather my wish to begin friendship before that time of trial," I said eagerly, and with extended hand. "We shall fight the better for it when the hour for fighting comes; and if it be God's will to guide us safely through the wilderness, a friendship thus cemented in peril will have the strength of comradeship."

The young man's strong and thoughtful face lighted up; but his eyes were resting upon the form of the sentry above us, and he did not speak.

"Ronan," I questioned, somewhat doubtfully, "I have long wished to ask you the cause of the friction that apparently exists between Captain Heald and the officers of this garrison; but have felt it none of my business. I cannot but realize you are not in his good graces, although he appears to me to be a brave and capable man."

"He is both," was the instant and manly reply; "for all that, he has constantly turned for counsel in military matters to others than his own officers,—why, I know not, unless he considered us unworthy of his confidence. Instead of confiding his orders to us, and asking judgment upon his plans, he has been swayed from the beginning by Indian advice; and it is only natural for us to resent such unjust and discourteous treatment. Moreover, each move thus far made has proved to be a mistake, and we must suffer from them in silence and without remedy."

"He does indeed seem strangely headstrong," I admitted reluctantly, recalling to mind the words uttered in the room beyond my bed; "but surely his conference with the chiefs has resulted well, and is proof of his good judgment."

The young officer turned quickly and faced me, his eyes full of emotion. "That remains to be decided," he exclaimed. "Such old frontiersmen as Captain Wells and John Kinzie say that pledge only hides black treachery. They urged him most earnestly, for an hour to-night, to reconsider his decision, and give up the immediate evacuation of the post. But he fully believes he can put faith in those lying, murderous hounds out yonder. So certain is Kinzie of trouble, that he has sworn to march forth with us, sending his family away by boat, in hope that his influence may hold back the savages from open attack; while Wells declares that he will ride forth with blackened face, as becomes a Miami who goes to certain death in battle. These men are no fools, no strangers to savage warfare and Indian deceit,—yet in spite of their warning, Captain Heald persists in driving us forth into the very fangs of the wolves. Brave! ay, he is indeed brave to the point of rashness; but this bids fair to be a fatal bravery to all of us who must obey his orders."

The intense bitterness of these words shocked me and held me dumb,—the more so, as I could not be insensible to their truth. As I lifted my eyes, I beheld, crossing the parade through the mass of equipment scattered here and there, De Croix and Mademoiselle. With a half-muttered excuse, I drew hastily back into the protecting shadow of the stockade; and as they slowly passed, I heard him jesting lightly, and saw her laughing, with a side-glance up at his face.

With these words of warning from Ronan's lips yet ringing in my ears, such reckless thoughtlessness of the danger encircling us astounded me; and I drew farther back, less willing than ever to make one of them. Deep in my heart, I knew this was no time for careless laughter or happy jest.