"Then watch the fort gates, and if you see them open drop the cloth over the edge of the rock there in signal. I will wait just below, but from where we are we can see nothing. You understand?"

"Surely, Monsieur; I am to remain here and watch; then signal you when the fort gates open."

"Ay, that is it; or if those savages advance into the open--they may not wait."

"Yes, Monsieur."

His lips touched mine, and I heard him whisper a word of endearment.

"You are a brave girl."

"No, Monsieur; I am frightened, terribly frightened, but--but I love you, and am a Frenchwoman."

He crept back silently, and I was left alone on the great rock, gazing out anxiously into the gray morning.

CHAPTER XXXV

THE CHARGE OF THE ILLINI

It seemed a long time, yet it could scarcely have exceeded a few moments, for the light of early dawn was still dim and spectral, making those savage figures below appear strange and inhuman, while, through the tree barrier, the more distant stockade was little more than a vague shadow. I could barely distinguish the sharp pointed logs, and if any guard passed, his movements were indistinguishable.

Had I not known where they were even the position of the gates would have been a mystery. Yet I lay there, my eyes peering through the cleft in the rock, every nerve in my body throbbing. All had been entrusted to me; it was to be my signal which would send De Artigny, La Forest, and their Indian allies forward. I must not fail them; I must do my part. Whatever the cost--even though it be his life--nothing could absolve me from this duty.

The Iroquois were massing toward the center, directly in front of the closed gates. The change in formation was made with all the stealthiness of Indian cunning, the warriors creeping silently behind the concealing bushes, and taking up their new positions according to motions of their chiefs. Those having rifles loaded their weapons, while others drew knives and tomahawks from their belts, and held them glittering in the gray light. The white leader remained beside the big tree, paying no apparent heed to anything excepting the stockade in front. The daylight brightened, but mist clouds overhung the valley, while floating wreaths of fog drifted between the great rock and the fort gates, occasionally even obscuring the Iroquois in vaporous folds. There was no sound, no sight, of those hidden below, waiting my word. I seemed utterly alone.

Suddenly I started, lifting myself slightly, on one arm so as to see more clearly. Ay, the gates were opening, slowly at first as though the great wooden hinges made resistance; then the two leaves parted, and I had glimpse within. Two soldiers pushed against the heavy logs, and, as they opened wider, a dozen, or more men were revealed, leaning carelessly on their rifles. Boisrondet, bearing gun in the hollow of his arm stepped forward into the opening, and gazed carelessly about over the gray, mist shrouded scene.

It was evident enough he felt no suspicion that anything more serious than the usual Indian picket would be encountered. He turned and spoke to the soldiers, waiting while they shouldered their rifles, and tramped forth to join him. His back was toward the fringe of wood. The arm of the white renegade shot into the air, and behind him the massed Iroquois arose to their feet, crouching behind their cover ready to spring. I reached over the rock edge, and dropped the handkerchief.

I must have seen what followed, yet I do not know; the incidents seem burned on my memory, yet are so confused I can place them in no order.

The white renegade seemed waiting, his arm upraised. Ere it fell in signal to dispatch his wild crew to the slaughter, there was a crash of rifles all about me, the red flare leaping into the gray mist--a savage yell from a hundred throats, and a wild rush of naked bodies.

I saw warriors of the Iroquois fling up their arms and fall; I saw them shrink, and shrivel, break ranks and run. Surprised, stricken, terrified by the war-whoops of the maddened Illini, realizing only that they were caught between enemies, their one and only thought was escape. Two of their chiefs were down, and the white renegade, stumbling and falling as though also hurt, dived into the underbrush.

Before they could rally, or even comprehend what had occurred, their assailants were upon them. Leaping across the open, over rock and sand, yelling like fiends, weapons gleaming in the dull light, the frenzied Illini, enflamed with revenge, maddened with hate, flung themselves straight at them. Rifles flashed in their faces, tomahawks whirled in the air, but nothing stopped that rush. Warriors fell, but the others stumbled over the naked bodies. I saw De Artigny, stripped to his shirt, and that in rags from the bushes he had plunged through, his rifle barrel gripped, a yard in front of them all. I saw La Forest, bareheaded, and Sequitah, his Indian stoicism forgotten in mad blood lust.

Then they struck and were lost in the fierce maelstrom of struggle, striking, falling, red hands gripping at red throats, rifle butts flung high, tomahawks dealing the death blow, knives gleaming as sinewy arms drove them home. I could no longer distinguish enemy from friend; they were interlocked, struggling like mad dogs, fighting as devils might, a wild tangled mass of bodies, of waving hair, of blazing eyes, of uplifted steel.

The Iroquois had rallied from their first shock; already they realized the small number of the attackers. Those who had fled were turning back; those on either flank were running toward the scene of fight. I saw the white renegade burst from the press, urging these laggards forward. Scarcely had he attained the outer edge, when De Artigny fought his way forth also, tearing the mass asunder with sweep of rifle. They stood face to face, glaring into each other's eyes.

The rifle in De Artigny's hand was but a twisted bar of iron; this renegade's only weapon was a murderous knife, its point reddened with blood. What word was said, I know not, but I saw De Artigny fling his bar aside, and draw the knife at his belt. _Mon Dieu!_ I could not look; I know not how they fought; I hid my eyes and prayed. When I glanced up again both were gone, the fighting mass was surging over the spot--but the Iroquois were in flight, seeking only some means of escape, while out through the fort gates the soldiers of the garrison were coming on a run, pouring volleys of lead into the fleeing savages. I saw De Tonty, De Baugis, De la Durantaye--ay! and there was M. Cassion, back among the stragglers, waving his sword gallantly in the air. It was all over with so quickly I could but sit and stare; they ran past me in pursuit, wild yells echoing through the woods, but all I thought of then was M. de Artigny. I scrambled down the rock, falling heavily in my haste, yet once upon my feet again, rushed forth, reckless of danger. The ground was strewn with dead and wounded, the victorious Illini already scattered in merciless, headlong pursuit. Only a group of soldiers remained at the edge of the forest. Among these were De Tonty and La Forest. Neither noticed my approach until I faced them.

"What, Madame," exclaimed De Tonty, "you here also?" he paused as though in doubt, "and the Sieur de Artigny--had he part in this feat of arms?"

"A very important part, Monsieur," returned La Forest, staunching a wound on his forehead, yet bowing gallantly to me. "'Twas indeed his plan, and I permitted him command as he knows these Illini Indians better than I."

"But does he live, Monsieur?" I broke in anxiously.

"Live! ay, very much alive--see, he comes yonder now. Faith, he fought Jules Lescalles knife to knife, and ended the career of that renegade.

Is that not a recommendation, M. de Tonty?"

The other did not answer; he was watching De Artigny approach, his eyes filled with doubt. I also had scarce thought otherwise, and stepped forward to greet him, with hands outstretched. He was rags from head to foot, spattered with blood, an ugly wound showing on one cheek, yet his lips and eyes smiled.

"'Twas good work, well done," he said cheerily. "'Twill be a while before the Iroquois besiege this fort again. Is that not your thought, M. de Tonty?"

"I appreciate the service rendered," replied the other gravely. "But you are in peril here. M. Cassion is yonder, and still in command."

De Artigny glanced inquiringly at La Forest, and the latter stepped forward, a leather bound packet in his hands.

"Your pardon, M. de Tonty," he said. "I had forgotten my true mission here. I bear orders from the King of France."

"From Louis? La Salle has reached the King's ear?"

"Ay, to good results. These are for you, Monsieur."

De Tonty took them, yet his thought was not upon their contents, but with his absent chief.

"You saw Sieur de la Salle in France? you left him well?"

"More than well--triumphant over all his enemies. He sails for the mouth of the Great River with a French colony; Louis authorized the expedition."

"And is that all?"

"All, except it was rumored at the court that La Barre would not for long remain Governor of New France."

The face of the Italian did not change expression; slowly he opened the papers, and glanced at their contents; then folded them once more, and lifted his eyes to our faces.

"By Grace of the King," he said simply, "I am again in command of Fort St. Louis. I see the order is countersigned by La Barre."

"Yes, Monsieur; he had no choice--'twas not done happily."

"I presume not. But Messieurs, it may be well for us to return within the fort. Madame, may I have the pleasure of escorting you?"

We made our way slowly through the fringe of woods, and across the open space before the fort gates which still stood open. The dead bodies of savages were on all sides, so horribly mutilated, many of them, that I hid my eyes from the sight. De Tonty tried to speak of other things, and to shield me from the view, but I was so sick at heart I could hardly answer him. De la Durantaye, with a dozen men to aid, was already busily engaged in seeking the wounded, and I caught sight of De Baugis far down the western slope clambering up, a body of Indians at his heels. Cassion had disappeared; indeed there was not so much as a single guard at the gate when we entered, yet we were greeted instantly by his voice.

"'Tis well you return, M. de Tonty," he said loudly. "I was about to call those soldiers yonder, and close the gates. 'Tis hardly safe to have them left thus with all these strange Indians about."

"They are Illini, Monsieur--our allies."

"Pah! an Indian is an Indian to my mind; bid M. de la Durantaye come hither." He stared at De Artigny and me, seeing us first as he stepped forward. A moment he gasped, his voice failing; then anger conquered, and he strode forward, sword in hand.

"_Mon Dieu!_ What is this? You here again, you bastard wood ranger? I had hopes I was rid of you, even at the cost of a wife. Well, I soon will be. Here, Durantaye, bring your men; we have a prisoner here to stretch rope. De Tonty, I command you in the name of France!"