"Possible perhaps, but not probable; some white man may have passed this way with trophy, but no Illinois Indian would dare such venture.

I have seen them before in Iroquois foray. I like not the sign, Barbeau, yet there is naught for us to do now, but go on. We dare not be found without the fort at daybreak. Keep within thirty paces of me, and guard the lady well."

It was a dense woods we entered, and how Barbeau kept to the trail will ever be to me a mystery. No doubt the instinct of a woodsman guided him somewhat, and then, with his moccasined feet, he could feel the slight depression in the earth, and thus cling to the narrow path.

I would have been lost in a moment, had I not clung to him, and we moved forward like two snails, scarcely venturing to breathe, our motions as silent as a wild panther stalking its prey.

Except for a faint rustling of leaves overhead no sound was distinguishable, although once we were startled by some wild thing scurrying across our path, the sudden noise it made causing me to give utterance to a half-stifled cry. I could feel how tense was every muscle in the soldier's body, as he advanced steadily step by step, his gun flung forward, each nerve strained to the utmost.

We crossed the wood, and began to climb among loose stones, finally finding solid rock beneath our feet, the path skirting the edge of what seemed to be a deep gash in the earth, and winding about wherever it could find passage. The way grew steeper and steeper, and more difficult to traverse, although, as we thus rose above the tree limit, the shadows became less dense, and we were able dimly to perceive objects a yard or two in advance. I strained my eyes over Barbeau's shoulder, but could gain no glimpse of De Artigny. Then we rounded a sharp edge of rock, and met him blocking the narrow way.

"The red devils are there," he said, his voice barely audible. "Beyond the curve in the bank. 'Twas God's mercy I had glimpse in time, or I would have walked straight into their midst. A stone dropping into the ravine warned me, and I crept on all fours to where I could see."

"You counted them?"

"Hardly that in this darkness; yet 'tis no small party. 'Twould be my judgment there are twenty warriors there."

"And the fort?"

"Short rifle shot away. Once past this party, and the way is easy.

Here is my thought Barbeau. There is no firing, and this party of wolves are evidently hidden in ambush. They have found the trail, and expect some party from the fort to pass this way."

"Or else," said the other thoughtfully, "they lie in wait for an assault at daylight--that would be Indian war."

"True, such might be their purpose, but in either case one thing remains true--they anticipate no attack from below. All their vigilance is in the other direction. A swift attack, a surprise will drive them into panic. 'Tis a grave risk I know, but there is no other passage to the fort."

"If we had arms, it might be done."

"We'll give them no time to discover what we have--a shot, a yell, a rush forward. 'Twill all be over with before a devil among them gets his second breath. Then 'tis not likely the garrison is asleep. If we once get by there will be help in plenty to hold back pursuit. 'Tis a desperate chance I admit, but have you better to propose?"

The soldier stood silent, fingering his gun, until De Artigny asked impatiently:

"You have none?"

"I know not the passage; is there no way around?"

"No; this trail leads alone to the fort gate. I anticipated this, and thought it all out as I came along. In the surprise at the first attack, the savages will never know whether we be two or a dozen. They will have no guard in this direction, and we can creep almost upon them before attempting a rush. The two in advance should be safely past before they recover sufficiently to make any fight. It will be all done in the dark, you know."

"You will go first, with the lady?"

"No; that is to be your task; I will cover the rear."

I heard these words, yet it was not my privilege to protest. Indeed, I felt that he was right, and my courage made response to his decision.

"If this be the best way possible," I said quietly, for both men glanced questioningly at me, "then do not think of me as helpless, or a burden. I will do all I can to aid you."

"Never have I doubted that," exclaimed De Artigny heartily. "So then the affair is settled. Barbeau, creep forward about the bank; be a savage now, and make no noise until I give the word. You next, Madame, and keep close enough to touch your leader. The instant I yell, and Barbeau fires, the two of you leap up, and rush forward. Pay no heed to me."

"You would have us desert you, Monsieur?"

"It will be every one for himself," he answered shortly. "I take my chance, but shall not be far behind."

We clasped hands, and then, as Barbeau advanced to the corner, I followed, my only thought now to do all that was required of me. I did not glance backward, yet was aware that De Artigny was close behind.

My heart beat fiercely, but I was not conscious of fear, although a moment later, I could perceive the dim figures of savages. They were but mere vague shadows in the night, and I made no attempt to count them, only realizing that they were grouped together in the trail. I could not have told how they faced, but there was a faint sound of guttural speech, which proved them unsuspicious of danger. Barbeau, lying low like a snake, crept cautiously forward, making not the slightest noise, and closely hugging the deeper shadow of the bank. I endeavored to imitate his every motion, almost dragging my body forward by gripping my fingers into the rock-strewn earth.

We advanced by inches, pausing now and then to listen breathlessly to the low murmur of the Indian voices, and endeavoring to note any change in the posture of the barely distinguishable figures. There was no alarm, no changing of places, and the success of our approach brought to us new confidence. Once a savage form, appearing grotesque in its blanket, suddenly stood erect, and we shrunk close to the ground in terror of discovery. An instant of agony followed, in which we held our breath, staring through the dark, every nerve throbbing.

But the fellow merely stretched his arms lazily, uttered some guttural word, and resumed his place.

Once the gleam of a star reflected from a rifle barrel as its owner shifted position; but nothing else occurred to halt our steady advance. We were within a very few yards of them, so close, indeed, I could distinguish the individual forms, when Barbeau paused, and, with deliberate caution, rose on one knee. Realizing instantly that he was preparing for the desperate leap, I also lifted my body, and braced myself for the effort. De Artigny touched me, and spoke, but his voice was so low it scarcely reached my ears.

"Do not hesitate; run swift, and straight. Give Barbeau the signal."

What followed is to me a delirium of fever, and remains in memory indistinct and uncertain. I reached out, and touched Barbeau; I heard the sudden roar of De Artigny's voice, the sharp report of the soldier's rifle. The flame cut the dark as though it was the blade of a knife, and, in the swift red glare, I saw a savage fling up his arms and fall headlong. Then all was chaos, confusion, death. Nothing touched me, not even a gripping hand, but there were Indian shots, giving me glimpse of the hellish scene, of naked bodies, long waving hair, eyes mad with terror, and red arms brandished, the rifles they bore shining in the red glare.

I saw Barbeau grip his gun by the barrel and strike as he ran. Again and again it fell crunching against flesh. A savage hand slashed at him with a gleaming knife, but I struck the red arm with my pistol butt, and the Indian fell flat, leaving the way open. We dashed through, but Barbeau grasped me, and thrust me ahead of him, and whirled about, with uplifted rifle to aid De Artigny who faced two warriors, naked knife in hand.

"Run, Madame, for the fort," he shouted above the uproar. "To my help, Barbeau!"

CHAPTER XXV

WITHIN THE FORT

I doubt if I paused a second, yet that was enough to give me glimpse of the weird scene. I saw De Artigny lunge with his knife, a huge savage reeling beneath the stroke, and Barbeau cleave passage to the rescue, the stock of his gun shattered as he struck fiercely at the red devils who blocked his path.

Outnumbered, helpless for long in that narrow space, their only hope lay in a sortie by the garrison, and it was my part to give the alarm.

Even as I sprang forward, a savage leaped from the ruck, but I escaped his hand, and raced up the dark trail, the one thought urging me on.

God knows how I made it--to me 'tis but a memory of falls over unseen obstacles, of reckless running; yet the distance could have been scarce more than a hundred yards, before my eyes saw the darker shadow of the stockade outlined against the sky.

Crying out with full strength of my voice I burst into the little open space, then tripped and fell just as the gate swung wide, and I saw a dozen dark forms emerge. One leaped forward and grasped me, lifting me partly to my feet.

"_Mon Dieu_! a woman!" he exclaimed in startled voice. "What means this, in Heaven's name?"

"Quick," I gasped, breaking away, able now to stand on my own feet.

"They are fighting there--two white men--De Artigny--"

"What, Rene! Ay, lads, to the rescue! Cartier, take the lady within.

Come with me you others."

They swept past me, the leader well in advance. I felt the rush as they passed, and had glimpse of vague figures 'ere they disappeared in the darkness. Then I was alone, except for the bearded soldier who grasped my arm.

"Who was that?" I asked, "the man who led?"

"Boisrondet, Francois de Boisrondet."

"An officer of La Salle's? You then are of his company?"