I put out my hand. Somehow this youth could move me curiously by his calmness, although I was no stranger to brave men.

"The time is terribly short," I agreed, "but we will make it suffice.

And we need not haste. We can do nothing till it is a little darker, then we shall move swiftly. A young squaw, Singing Arrow, will be here in a few minutes. You are to escape in her dress."

He wasted no time in comment. "Am I dark enough?" he demurred. "My neck, where I am not sunburned, is very white."

I had thought of this, and had warned Singing Arrow. "There is no opportunity to stain your skin," I said, "so we must trust to the dark, and a blanket wrapping. The Indian will wear leggings, skirt and blouse of skin, so you will be fairly covered. The hands and hair are the weak points. You will have to keep them in the blanket."

He hesitated. "You can trust this girl?" he asked slowly.

Now why should he ask what he knew I could not answer? "Can you trust me--or I you, for the matter of that?" I jerked out with a frown.

"This is an outlaw's land, and the wise man trusts no one except under compulsion. I would not trust Singing Arrow for a moment if I could help myself, but she is our only hope, so I trust her implicitly. I advise you to do the same. Half measures are folly. If you try to be cautious in your dealings with her, you will tie her hands so that the whole thing will fall through. If she betrays us--well, you are in no worse estate than now, and we will still have my sword and my men to depend on. But that is a slender hope, and we will save it for a last resort. Now we will hazard everything on this plan."

I had made my long speech nervously, knowing, in my heart, that what I asked the man to do would take more courage of soul than one would expect to find in his slender frame. For I might be throwing him over to fiendish torment. The Indian women were cruel as weasels, and more ingenious in their trap-setting than the men. It cooled my blood to think what Singing Arrow's friendliness might really mean.

The prisoner heard me without flinching. "But what is Singing Arrow's motive?" he asked, with his mournful eyes full on my own. "We cannot read men's hearts, but, after all, there are but few springs that rule their action. You know that I will be loyal to you to save my head, to which, though it has served me badly, I yet cling. I know that you will be loyal to me because I see that G.o.d gave you a softness of heart which your brain tells you is unwise. But what string pulls this Indian that she should be a traitor to her people? If you will give me a hint, I will play upon it as best I can."

I could only shrug. "It may be my man, Pierre," I hazarded. "He is red as a flamingo, and a fool into the bargain; but he has shoulders like an ox, so the women want him. I can see no other motive. Will you trust to that, monsieur?"

He looked back at me with the flicker of a smile. "It is sufficient."

I do not like smiles that I cannot understand, so I changed the subject. "The plan is simple, monsieur," I said briskly. "Singing Arrow will come to the window, and you are to make love to her. After a time--not too long--you are to beguile her inside. I think the guards will be complaisant, if you play your part well. Be as debonair as possible. A soldier is always tempted to be lenient to a jaunty foe."

The prisoner nodded. "And you will meet me?"

"Outside in the camp. I shall stand near a fire, so that you can find me at once. Remember, monsieur, that you are Singing Arrow, and that it will be your cue to follow me, and mine to shrug you away."

The Englishman drew a long breath. "I am ready, monsieur," he said, with a little squaring of the shoulders, and I saw that, mortal danger that he was in, his spirit yet responded to the touch of comedy in the game.

I saluted him with a laugh of my own. "Then I will go, monsieur. Go into the next room to change your clothing, or the guard may come in and find you. One thing more. Remember you have overpowered Singing Arrow, and taken your disguise by force. It may be well to lock her in that inside room before you leave; but do as you like. I leave details to you."

He made acknowledgment with a sweeping bow. "I will be a monster of cruelty," he promised, and he pulled at imaginary mustachios like a child at play.

Now it may be well to commend nonchalance, but there are bounds that should not be pa.s.sed. Had this man no reverence toward the mystery of his own life that he jested on the edge of it? I had rather have seen him with a rosary in his hand than with defiance on his lips.

"Is life all bitterness and sharp-edged laughter with you, monsieur?" I asked bluntly. "This may be our last talk. It is hardly a seemly one.

If you have messages to send that will not compromise you, I will try and get them through--in case our plans fail."

The prisoner eyed me oddly. "And in case you still live, monsieur," he corrected. "You show much solicitude that I meet my end decorously, yet I cannot see that you display any dolor over your own condition.

Why should I have less fort.i.tude? You are like a man who cares not for religion for himself, yet insists upon it for children and for his womenkind,--for his inferiors in general. Why should you feel that I need so much prompting?" His voice suddenly hardened. "Tell me. Is it my youth that makes you feel yourself my mentor, or have I failed you in any way? Answer." And he gave the stamp of the foot that I had heard once before.

How could I answer but with laughter? "You are a leopard, and a lamb, and a bantam c.o.c.k all in one," I jeered at him. "No wonder that I feel you need a priest to shrive you;" and I laughed again, and would not notice the hurt shining of his eyes as I went away.

CHAPTER VII

THE BEGINNING

I had not vaunted idly when I told the prisoner that our plans were ready. I had scarcely dropped the latch of the commandant's door when I saw Singing Arrow sauntering near.

She was graceful in her finery. Even a white man might commend. Her skin garments looked soft and clean, and draped her cunningly. In the dusk and the firelight with the bright blanket falling from her hair, she looked so winning that I thought the guards could find excuse if the prisoner loitered at the window.

And loiter he did. I sauntered and watched while the prisoner and Singing Arrow threw glances that proved them no tyros in the game of love and life. The comedy was pleasing, and I did not wonder that the guards tilted their heads to one side, and looked on with grins.

Singing Arrow bridled, and drew away and then drew near. All was going as we planned, till Pemaou and a band of his Hurons came around the corner of the house.

I had done Pemaou the justice to hate him when I first saw him. And one does not hate an inferior. He had as keen a mind as I have ever known, and he was not hampered by any of the scruples and decencies that interfere with a white man. So he was my superior in resource. I knew, as I saw him look at me now, that my share in the game was over.

He had seen me listening to Longuant. Where had my wits been lagging that I had not foreseen that he would have spies watching me, and would trace some connection between the prisoner and myself? Well, there was nothing left me but to stroll away. I did not dare go in the direction of the canoes; it would be unwise to seek Cadillac; so I turned boldly to the Ottawa camp. Hardly knowing what I planned, I asked for Longuant.

Somewhat to my surprise, the Ottawas listened with respect. I had apparently won some reputation among them, and without demur they took me to the chief.

Longuant was squatting before his lodge. A piece of wood was laid across his lap, and he was chopping rank tobacco with a scalping knife.

He smelled of oil, and smoke, and half-cured hides; yet he met me as a ruler meets an amba.s.sador. As I stumbled after him into his dark lodge, I saw that he was preparing to greet me with all the silence and circ.u.mlocution of a state messenger. I had no time for that,--though it gratified me. I tramped my way through all ceremony and plunged at my point.

"I am no envoy," I began, shaking my head in refusal of the proffered seat upon the mat beside him. "I am only a voice. A bird that calls 'beware' from the branches, and then flits away. Why watch the old wolf, and let the cub play free? Would you make yourself a laughing-stock among your people, by letting the Englishman escape into the Baron's hands? Pemaou, son of the Baron, stands with his followers outside the Englishman's window. What does he seek? I am no Ottawa.

I am a free man, bound to no clan, and to no covenant, and friend to the Ottawas and Hurons alike. But I do not like to see a wise man tricked by a boy. I have spoken."

Longuant rose. "My brother's voice speaks the truth," he said, gathering his robes to leave me. "My brother sent his words, even as he flung his spear at Pemaou, straight at the mark. Only one word goes astray. My brother is not the free man he vaunts himself. He is tied by hate;" and pushing out his lip till his huge nose pendant stood at a right angle, he went on his way to be my willing, but entirely unhoodwinked agent.

I went to my canoes, stumbling a little, for I was tired. It was dark now, and the fires glowed brazenly, so that the Indians showed like dancing silhouettes. The sky was cloudless, and to the east lay a band of uncertain light that meant the rising moon. This was the time that I had planned to use in action, and the knowledge that I was powerless to accomplish anything myself made me so irritable that I could not bear to speak even to Pierre and the men. I sent them to a distance, and sat down on the sand so torn and frayed by anxiety that I was like a sick man.

And here, after long minutes, Singing Arrow found me. She came running down the beach, slipping on the rolling pebbles, and careless either of her grace, or of the noise she made.

"And you sit here doing nothing!" she cried, quite as a white girl might have done.

I pushed her down on the sand. "Stop!" I said. "I knew you would seek me here. Now answer briefly. Pemaou and his men would not let you get near the window?"

"No."

"They had seen you with me," I explained. "I feared it. Did Longuant and his men come?"

"Like bees," she answered, with a fling of her arms. "They are everywhere. We can do nothing;" and she dropped her head in her arms and cried.

Now what indeed could be her motive? "Never mind, Singing Arrow," I said experimentally. "What is it to you, after all?"

She wriggled her head to throw me a wrathful look. "I always win at a game," she mumbled.

She was as hard to read as a purring cat, but that did not matter.

"We've not lost yet," I said, as slowly and coolly as if I did not see the disk of the moon looking at me. "I sent Longuant there. I was sure that Pemaou would keep you away, and I am playing for time. So long as the Ottawas and Hurons are squabbling with one another, Cadillac will not deliver the prisoner. But we must get them farther away. Singing Arrow, I have brandy in my cargo. I have drawn off two large flasks. Could you carry them to the other end of the camp, and send word among the braves?"

Now this was a contemptible thing to suggest; but any one who stoops, as I was letting myself do, to use a cat's-paw to work out his ends will surely soil his fingers. The sword is the clean weapon. I felt that even this Indian would look at me with disdain, but she did not.

She thought a moment, then wagged her head in a.s.sent.

"But I promised Father Carheil not to drink any brandy myself," she added defiantly, as if she feared I might protest, and I felt myself as low as the hound that I had kicked that day because it would have stolen a child's sagamite.

"Make haste!" I cried, in a fury with myself, and with the speeding time. "Tell the prisoner to saunter away from the door, to pa.s.s the largest fire, and then to go straight through the old maize field toward the timber. I will be waiting there."

"I can do it," she vaunted, and she gathered the brandy under her blanket, and ran like a quail, while I went to my red-topped giant.