"By Cassion?"

"That I cannot say; yet the bullet entered behind the ear, for I was first to reach him, and he had no other enemy in the Regiment Carignan-Salliers. The feeling against M. Cassion was so strong that he resigned in a few months. You never heard this?"

I could not answer, but stood silent with bowed head. I felt De Artigny place his hand on my shoulder.

"The lady did not know," he said gravely, as though he felt the necessity of an explanation. "She was at school in a convent at Quebec, and no rumor reached her. She is thankful to you for what you have said, Barbeau, and can trust you as her father's friend and comrade. May I tell him the truth, Madame? The man may have other information of value."

I looked at the soldier, and his eyes were grave and honest.

"Yes," I answered, "it can do no harm."

De Artigny's hand was still on my shoulder, but his glance did not seek my face.

"There is some low trick here, Barbeau," he began soberly, "but the details are not clear. Madame has trusted me as a friend, and confided all she knows, and I will tell the facts to you as I understand them.

False reports were made to France regarding Captain la Chesnayne. We have not learned what they were, or who made them, but they were so serious that Louis, by royal decree, issued order that his estates revert to the crown. Later La Chesnayne's friends got the ear of the King, no doubt through Frontenac, ever loyal to him, and by royal order the estates were restored to his ownership. This order of restoration reached Quebec soon after La Barre was appointed Governor, and was never made public. It was suppressed by someone, and La Chesnayne was killed three months later, without knowing that he had won the favor of the King."

"But Cassion knew; he was ever hand in glove with La Barre."

"We have cause to suspect so, and now, after listening to your tale, to believe that Captain la Chesnayne's death was part of a carefully formed plot. By accident the lady here learned of the conspiracy, through overhearing a conversation, but was discovered by La Barre hiding behind the curtains of his office. To keep her quiet she was forced into marriage with Francois Cassion, and bidden to accompany him on this journey to Fort St. Louis."

"I see," commented Barbeau shrewdly. "Such marriage would place the property in their control by law. Had Cassion sought marriage previously?"

His eyes were upon me as he asked the question, and I answered him frankly.

"He visited often at the home of my Uncle, Hugo Chevet, and, while he never spoke to me directly of marriage, I was told he desired me for his wife and at the palace he so presented me to Monsieur La Barre."

"On pledge of Chevet, no doubt. Your uncle knew of your fortune?"

"No; he supposed me penniless; he thought it a great honor done me by the favorite of the Governor's. 'Twas my belief he expected some reward for persuading me to accept the offer."

"And this Chevet--what became of him?"

"He accompanied us on the journey, also upon order of Monsieur la Barre, who, no doubt, thought he would be safer in the wilderness than in Quebec. He was murdered at St. Ignace."

"Murdered?"

"Ay, struck down from behind with a knife. No one knows who did it, but Cassion has charged the crime against Sieur de Artigny, and circumstances are such he will find it difficult to prove his innocence."

The soldier stood silent, evidently reviewing in his mind all that had been told him, his eyes narrowed into slits as he gazed thoughtfully at us both.

"_Bah_," he exclaimed at last, "the riddle is not so hard to read, although, no doubt the trick has been well played. I know Governor La Barre, and this Francois Cassion, for I have served under both, while Monsieur la Chesnayne was my Captain, and friend. I was not always a soldier, Madame, and once I sought holy orders, but the flesh was weak. However, the experiment gave me education, and led to comradeship with those above me in station--discipline in the wilderness is not rigid. Many a night at the campfire have I talked with my captain. And I have heard before of this Sieur de Artigny, and of how loyally he has served M. de la Salle. Monsieur de Tonty told the tale to M. de la Durantaye, mayhap a month ago, and I overheard.

So I possess faith in him as a gallant man, and have desire to serve you both. May I tell you what, in my judgment, seems best for you to do?"

I glanced at De Artigny, and his eyes gave me courage.

"Monsieur, you are a French soldier," I answered, "an educated man also, and my father's friend. I will listen gladly."

His eyes smiled, and he swept the earth with his cap.

"Then my plan is this--leave Monsieur Cassion to go his way, and let me be your guide southward. I know the trails, and the journey is not difficult. M. de la Durantaye is camped at the portage of the Des Plaines, having but a handful of men to be sure, yet he is a gallant officer, and no enemy to La Salle, although he serves the Governor. He will see justice done, and give you both safe convoy to Fort St.

Louis, where De Tonty knows how to protect his officers. Faith! I would like to see Francois Cassion try to browbeat that one armed Italian--'twould be one time he would meet his match."

De Artigny laughed.

"Ay, you are right there, my friend. I have felt the iron-hook, and witnessed how he wins his way with white and red. Yet he is no longer in command at Fort St. Louis; I bring him orders now from Sieur de la Salle bidding him not to interfere with the Governor's lieutenants.

'Tis the Chevalier De Baugis with whom we must reckon."

"True, he has control, and men enough, with Cassion's party, to enforce his order. And he is a hothead, conceited, and holding himself a bit better than others, because he bears commission in the King's Dragoons. 'Tis said that he and De Tonty have had many a stiff quarrel since he came; but he dare not go too far. There are good men there ready to draw sword if it ever come to blows--De Tonty, Boisrondet, L'Espirance, De Marle, and the Algonquins camped on the plain below.

They would be tigers if the Italian spoke the word; while I doubt not M. de la Durantaye would throw his influence on the side of mercy; he has small love for the Captain of Dragoons."

I spoke quickly, and before De Artigny could voice decision.

"We will accept your guidance, Monsieur. It is the best choice, and now the only one, for the time is past when we can expect the return of the canoes. Can we not at once begin the journey?"

It was an hour later, after we had eaten, that we left the bluff, and turned westward into the great woods. Barbeau led the way, moving along the bank of a small stream, and I followed, with De Artigny close behind. As we had nothing to carry, except the soldier's rifle and blanket, we made rapid progress, and in less than half an hour, we came to the Indian trail, which led southward from Green Bay to the head waters of the Des Plaines. It was so faint and dim, a mere trace through forest depths, that I would have passed it by unseen, but both my companions were woodsmen, and there was no sign their trained eyes overlooked.

Once in the trail, however, there was no difficulty in following it, although it twisted here and there, in the avoiding of obstacles, ever seeking the easier route. Barbeau had passed this way before, and recalled many a land-mark, occasionally turning, and pointing out to us certain peculiarities he had observed on his journey north. Once he held us motionless while he crept aside, through an intervening fringe of trees to the shore of a small lake, coming back with two fine ducks dangling from his shoulder.

Before dark we halted in a little opening, the grass green underfoot, and a bank of trees all about, and made night camp. There was water near at hand, and the fire quickly built gave cheer to the scene, as the men prepared supper. The adventures of the day had wearied me, and I was very content to lie on Barbeau's blanket, and watch them work.

While the soldier cooked, De Artigny swiftly erected a shelter of boughs, within which I was to pass the night. After we had eaten, I retired at once, yet for a long time could not sleep, but lay looking out at the two men seated before the fire smoking. I could hear their voices, and scraps of conversation--De Artigny telling the tale of the exploration of the great river to its mouth in the salt sea, and Barbeau relating many a strange adventure in the wilderness. It was a scene long to be remembered--the black shadows all about, the silence of the great woods, the sense of loneliness, the red and yellow flames of the fire, and the two men telling tales of wild adventure amid the unknown.

At last they grew weary also, and lay down, pillowed their heads on their arms, and rested motionless. My own eyes grew heavy, and I fell asleep.

CHAPTER XXII

WE MEET WITH DANGER

It was late in the afternoon of the second day when we arrived at the forks of the Chicago river. There was a drizzle of rain in the air, and never saw I a more desolate spot; a bare, dreary plain, and away to the eastward a glimpse of the lake.

A hut of logs, a mere shack scarcely fit for shelter, stood on a slight eminence, giving wide view in every direction, but it was unoccupied, the door ajar. Barbeau, in advance, stared at it in surprise, gave utterance to an oath, and ran forward to peer within.

Close behind him I caught a glimpse of the interior, my own heart heavy with disappointment.

If this miserable place had been the headquarters of M. de la Durantaye, evidently it was so no longer. Not a vestige of occupancy remained, save a rotten blanket on the floor, and a broken bench in one corner. Rude bunks lined two walls, and a table hewed from a log stood in the center of the dirt floor. On this was a paper pinned to the wood by a broken knife blade. Barbeau grasped it, and read the writing, handing it back to me. It was a scrawl of a few words, yet told the whole story.

"Francois Cassion, under commission of Governor la Barre, arrived with party of soldiers and Indians. At his orders we accompany the force to Fort St. Louis.

"De la Durantaye."

"Perhaps it is as well," commented De Artigny lightly. "At least as far as my good health goes; but 'tis like to make a hard journey for you, Madame."

"Is it far yet until we attain the fort?"

"A matter of twenty-five leagues; of no moment had we a boat in which to float down stream, but the trail, as I remember, is rough."