THE MAID OF THE FOREST
 
 THE MAID OF THE FOREST. 
 
 Frontispiece.
 
 THE MAID 
 OF THE FOREST 
 
 A ROMANCE OF ST. GLAIR'S DEFEAT 
 
 By RANDALL PARRISH 
 
 Author of " My Lady of the North," " My Lady of the 
 
 South," " When Wilderness Was King," 
 
 M My Lady Of Doubt," Etc. 
 
 With Four Illustrations in Colors . 
 By FRANK E. SCHOONOVER 
 
 A. L BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS 
 
 114-120 East Twenty-third Street - - New York 
 
 PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH A. C. McCLURG & Co.
 
 Copyright 
 A. C. McCLURG & CO. 
 
 1913 
 
 Published September, 1913 
 Copyrighted in Grtat Britain
 
 SRLF 
 URL 
 
 5140073 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I A MESSENGER FROM THE NORTH . 1 
 
 II AT THE FORT GATES . . . 11 
 
 III WITH GENERAL HARMAR . . 21 
 
 IV A GIRL OF THE NORTH ... SI 
 V A PERILOUS VENTURE ... 41 
 
 VI ' THE EVE OF DEPARTURE . . 51 
 
 VII I FACE A REQUEST .... 61 
 
 VIII UP THE MUSKINGUM ... 71 
 
 IX THE INDIAN COUNTRY ... 81 
 
 X THE TRAIL OF A WAR PARTY . 89 
 
 XI THE LONELY CABIN .... 99 
 
 XII CAPTAIN D'AUVRAY . . . .109 
 
 XIII I TAKE A PRISONER . . . .119 
 
 XIV MADEMOISELLE MEETS HER FATHER 129 
 XV MADEMOISELLE'S STORY . . . 139 
 
 XVT THE RETURN OF BRADY . . . 151 
 
 XVII THE BARRIER BETWEEN . . . 161 
 
 XVIII WE REGAIN THE HOUSE . . . 178 
 
 XIX I FIGHT A RED-COAT . . .185 
 
 XX WE MEET THEM WITH RIFLES . 195 
 
 XXI WITHIN THE CABIN .... 207 
 
 XXII THE FIGHT IN THE CABIN . . 217 
 
 XXIII THE HELP OF MADEMOISELLE 225
 
 Contents 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 XXIV 
 
 WITHIN THE TUNNEL 
 
 . 235 
 
 XXV 
 
 A STRUGGLE UNDERGROUND 
 
 . 245 
 
 XXVI 
 
 I MEET MY DOUBLE 
 
 . 255 
 
 XXVII 
 
 I HOLD A PRISONER . 
 
 . 265 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 AN EFFORT TO SAVE BRADY . 
 
 . 277 
 
 XXIX 
 
 THE FIRE IN THE CLEARING 
 
 . 289 
 
 XXX 
 
 THE RECOGNITION 
 
 . 301 
 
 XXXI 
 
 IN THE HANDS OF SAVAGES 
 
 . 313 
 
 XXXII 
 
 THE GHOST OF THE LIEUTENANT 
 
 . 323 
 
 XXXIII 
 
 THROUGH THE BLACK NIGHT 
 
 . 333 
 
 XXXIV 
 
 A PRISONER TO THE ALLIES 
 
 . 345 
 
 XXXV 
 
 RENE COMES .... 
 
 . 357 
 
 XXXVI 
 
 THE ESCAPE 
 
 . 369 
 
 XXXVII 
 
 IN THE WOODS .... 
 
 . 381 
 
 XXXVIII 
 
 BEFORE ST. CLAIR 
 
 . 393 
 
 XXXIX 
 
 THE BATTLE ON THE WABASH 
 
 . 409 
 
 XL 
 
 THE RETREAT .... 
 
 419
 
 O strange New World that yit wast ever young, 
 
 Whose youth from thee by gripin' need was wrung, 
 Brown foundlin' o' the woods, whose baby bed 
 
 Was prowled 'round by the Injun's cracklin' tread, 
 And who grew'st strong thru shifts, and wants, and 
 
 pains, 
 
 Nursed by stern men with empires in their brains. 
 
 Lowell.
 
 The Maid of the 
 Forest 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 A MESSENGER FROM THE NORTH 
 
 T STOOD alone on the banks of a small stream gaz- 
 ing down into the clear water. The sun revealed 
 fish in the depths, and their curious antics held me 
 amused. Mine was still the heart of youth, in spite of 
 those experiences of war through which I had passed in 
 the struggle of the colonies, and my mind could not 
 dwell for long brooding and despondent. It was a re- 
 lief, a joy to be there alone, my memory reverting to 
 the Maryland hills, and the half-forgotten days when I 
 had roamed them in childhood. 
 
 It was a fair, bright morning. Yet, until now, I had 
 scarcely realized this, picking my way through the 
 grim forest, where great trees almost totally obscured 
 the blue arch of sky. Then I had suddenly emerged 
 into open space, gorgeous with wild flowers, exhibiting 
 a prodigal confusion of coloring, and found myself OB
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 the bank of this clear run. All about was the forest, 
 the trees on the opposite bank dense to the very edge 
 of the water, a vast trackless wilderness, stretching 
 almost unbrokenly to the great lakes. Still held by 
 garrisons of English troops it remained a dark, gloomy 
 expanse, filled with mystery and death, roamed over by 
 savages, and scarcely known to the boldest among those 
 few settlers scattered along the Ohio. In the heart of 
 the tangled thickets this little oasis appeared a spot 
 of rare beauty, with deep blue overhead, the song of 
 birds in the air, and the clear stream of running water 
 singing its song. I had never been there before per- 
 haps no wandering white foot had ever discovered this 
 hidden waterway yet I knew the stream, and where 
 it finally found passage to the great river. It should 
 be my guide southward, away from the gloom of the 
 vast woods, and their dark, haunting shadows. 
 
 I still stood there, leaning on my long rifle, my 
 thought centering upon the journey homeward, when 
 the bushes opposite parted, and a man stood on the 
 bank scarcely a dozen steps away, with only the stream 
 between us. It was time and place for caution, for 
 suspicion of strangers, and my rifle came forward in 
 instant readiness, my heart throbbing with startled sur- 
 prise. He held up both hands, his own weapon resting 
 on the ground.
 
 " Not so careless, boy," he called across cheerfully. 
 " There is no war, so far as I know, between white 
 men." 
 
 His easy tone, as well as his words, jarred on me, yet 
 I lowered the rifle. 
 
 " I am no boy," I retorted, " as you may discover 
 before we are through our acquaintance." 
 
 " No ? Well by my eyesight you look it, although in 
 faith you are surely big enough for a grown man. I 
 have heard, friend, that they grow giants south of the 
 Ohio, and now I believe it true. Are you of that breed? " 
 
 " That is neither here nor there," I said, failing to 
 fall into his humor. *' I am as nature ordained. Your 
 words would indicate that you were strange to this 
 country ? " 
 
 " As I surely am, and may God forgive me for ever 
 coming here. However it was no choice of mine, but 
 yours is the first white face I 've seen since I left the 
 Shawnee towns a weary journey." 
 
 " The Shawnee towns ! " I echoed, staring at him in 
 fresh wonderment. " You come from beyond? From 
 the Illinois?" 
 
 He stroked his beard. 
 
 " A longer journey than that even," he acknowledged 
 slowly. " I am from Sandusky, by way of Vincennes." 
 
 "Alone?" 
 
 [ 3 ]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " The Indians who were with me remained at Shaw- 
 nee; they lost heart. Since then I have been by my- 
 self." 
 
 I stood silent, watchful, aroused to the importance of 
 this meeting. I could judge little as to the appearance 
 of the man, for he remained well back in the shadow, 
 yet he was not of large build, nor of an aspect to alarm 
 me. 
 
 " Come over," I said shortly, " where we can con- 
 verse more easily." 
 
 He stepped into the cool water unhesitatingly, and 
 waded across, a small pack at his back, and a long 
 rifle across his shoulder. There was a reckless audacity 
 about the fellow I could not fail to observe, and, as he 
 scrambled up the rather steep bank, I had glimpse 
 of a face far from my liking. However, ours was a 
 rough life in those days, accustoming us to strange ac- 
 quaintances, so I waited, my rifle in my hand, deter- 
 mined to know more of this wanderer. He was a man 
 of middle age, with gray hairs a plenty, and scraggly 
 beard, an active body, of good girth, and a dark face, 
 deeply seamed, having an ugly scar adown his right 
 cheek, seemingly from its white center the slash of a 
 knife. The eyes, gleaming beneath the brim of his hat, 
 were furtive, uncanny, black as to color, and bold 
 enough in the sneaking way of a tiger cat. Beyond 
 
 [ 4 ]
 
 A Messenger from the North 
 
 these things there was little distinctive about the man, 
 his dress merely that of the backwoods fringed hunt- 
 ing shirt and leggings of leather, dirty and soiled by 
 long use, yet exhibiting a bit of foppery in decoration 
 which made me recall the French voyageurs of the 
 North and their gay ribbons. At his belt dangled 
 hunting knife and tomahawk, but these, with the rifle, 
 constituted his whole display of weapons. Even be- 
 fore he had obtained the level on which I stood I had 
 conceived a dislike for the fellow, a desire to have done 
 with further acquaintanceship. With feet planted 
 firmly on the edge of the grass he scanned me from head 
 to foot with unwinking eyes, that sought vainly to smile. 
 
 " You are surely a big fellow," he said at last. 
 " Some hand at rough and tumble, I make bold to 
 guess." His roving glance took in the dead wild turkey 
 lying at my feet. " A hunter hey ? " 
 
 " Occasionally, for what I require as food and 
 you?" 
 
 He chose to ignore my question, apparently not yet 
 ready to declare himself, turning over the turkey cock 
 with moccasined foot. 
 
 " A clean shot, friend, and a fine bird. My mouth 
 waters for a taste of it, hot from the fire. You are a 
 woodsman, you say? " 
 
 '* I did not say," I answered shortly, feeling no en- 
 [ 5 ]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 j oyment of his probing, " but, at least, I am not lost 
 in them." 
 
 " Which is more than I can say," he acknowledged 
 frankly. " I left the trace for a short cut as my 
 mission is an urgent one and now know not how far 
 the river may be away." 
 
 "The Ohio?" 
 
 " Ay, the Ohio. Know you the town they call Mari- 
 etta?" 
 
 " I have been there. It is forty miles to the south of 
 us. You seek the place?" 
 
 " There, or thereabouts. Forty miles, you say ? A 
 goodly journey yet, and little enough at the end of the 
 traveling. A log house or two amid fields of blackened 
 stumps, a few psalm-singing Puritans, and a church 
 is that the picture, friend? " 
 
 I laughed, but rather at the wry look on his face, 
 than at the words. 
 
 " Not quite so bad, yet true it is a settlement of God- 
 fearing New Englanders, not much to your taste pos- 
 sibly. Only I advise you to hold your tongue when 
 once you get there. They were soldiers the most of 
 them not so long ago, and have not forgotten the trade. 
 But you spoke of hunger you have not eaten? " 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 *' Nor I : we will try the taste of the cock together, 
 [ 6 ]
 
 A Messenger from the North 
 
 if we may venture on a fire. Know you if there be any 
 savages in these woods ? " 
 
 " Not a one. They are in council at Vincennes." 
 
 I looked at him suspiciously, noting again the pecul- 
 iarity of his face, its dark coloring under the tan. I 
 might just as well get at the gist of things. 
 
 " You know too much," I said, " about those mur- 
 derers, not to be one of them. I pick you as a half- 
 breed. Right, am I? And you come from that same 
 council, or another, with some word to those settlers 
 below?" 
 
 " There is not a drop of Indian blood in my veins, 
 he answered coldly, " and I would never deny it if there 
 was, for I have found them more to my liking than 
 those of my own race. Come, enough of this play. Let 
 us have frankness between us. I come from the North 
 on a mission of peace, the representative of the tribes, 
 and of Hamilton. There is no reason in this why we 
 should quarrel. You are a bit of a hot-head I take it, 
 but I am too old a borderer to take heed to foolish 
 words. All I ask is fair speech, and guidance can 
 you deny me these? " 
 
 " Not if you talk with a straight tongue. But threats 
 will get you little in these woods. You represent Ham- 
 ilton, you say? " 
 
 "Ay, though I expect little will come from it. I
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 would have word with St. Clair and Harmar. Know you 
 either man ? " 
 
 " Both, passing well. St. Clair is up the river or 
 was three days since but General Harmar represents 
 him at the settlement. How happens it, my friend, if 
 the message be so important, Hamilton did not despatch 
 an officer? " 
 
 " He had no choice. None volunteered for the task, 
 and I was the selection of the tribes. You question me 
 as though you were Harmar himself; and more, you 
 have the look of it. You 're not a woodsman, you say ; 
 then I make a guess you 're a soldier." 
 
 " I am," I returned quietly, " an Ensign in the regu- 
 lar service." 
 
 "Name?" 
 
 " Joseph Hayward, of Fort Harmar." 
 
 " The gods be praised ! Now is the way made clear. 
 You were traveling thither? " 
 
 " I am to be there tomorrow." 
 
 " In ample time for my purpose. 'Tis easily seen the 
 devil takes care of his own. It was my hope to encounter 
 a soldier, rather than a borderer, who might have preju- 
 dice against me. I recall your name, Master Hayward, 
 as spoken by the Delawares. You were at Chillicothe 
 last Spring? " 
 
 " I attended the council." 
 [ 8 ]
 
 A Messenger from the North 
 
 " The very man, and now you can serve me well, if 
 I may journey with you? " 
 
 I had an increasing dislike for the fellow and his 
 shifting eyes refused to meet mine. Yet to ignore such 
 a request might invite disaster. If, as he claimed, he 
 represented the tribes, and bore the credentials of Ham- 
 ilton, the message might well be an important one. Its 
 purport was for others to judge, yet it was plainly 
 enough my duty to give him safe convoy. Yet my aver- 
 sion could not be entirely suppressed. 
 
 " I am not overly fond of white men who turn Indian," 
 I said coldly. " However I '11 see you safe to the fort 
 gates if you play no forest tricks on the way. And 
 now you might tell me who it is I am to companion 
 with." 
 
 He grinned, showing his teeth, and my eyes noted how 
 firmly he held his gun. 
 
 " A pledge is a pledge, Master Hayward," he an- 
 swered, insolently. " I am called Simon Girty." 
 
 [ 9 1
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 AT THE FORT GATES 
 
 T INVOLUNTARILY took a step backward, staring 
 into the man's face. That lie was a renegade of 
 some sort, I had realized from the first, yet it had never 
 once occurred to me that he could be that bloody scoun- 
 drel, Girty. I ought to have recognized him at the first 
 glance, for his personal appearance had been described 
 to me often enough, but it was hard to conceive that 
 one with his murderous reputation would ever dare to 
 venture thus openly into our settlements. Even as a 
 messenger from Hamilton he faced grave danger at the 
 hands of those backwoodsmen eager to avenge innu- 
 merable outrages. No wonder, he sought protection, 
 companionship with a soldier, in his daring venture. 
 Ay, and his message must be important to cause him to 
 assume so desperate a mission he of all men the most 
 hated throughout the length and breadth of our settle- 
 ments. 
 
 There flashed across my mind the stories I had heard 
 of his atrocities : his leadership of Indians in midnight 
 forays; his malignant cruelty; the heartlessness with 
 which he watched victims burning at the stake; his 
 
 [11]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 outrages on helpless women and children; the fiendish 
 acts of savagery with which his brutal name was con- 
 nected along the border. And this was the man this 
 cowardly-eyed dastard, who stood there grinning into 
 my face, evidently amused at my undisguised expression 
 of horror. Protect, and guide him! My first inclina- 
 tion was to strike the man down in his tracks, kill him 
 as I would a venomous snake. He read all this in my 
 eyes, in the stiffening of my muscles. 
 
 " No, no, Master Hayward," he sneered, bringing his 
 rifle forward, " do n't let the name frighten you. The 
 half you 've heard of me are lies. I 'm not so bad when 
 all is told, and there is more than one borderman who 
 can recall my mercy. Kenton escaped the stake through 
 me, and there are white women and children awaiting 
 ransom in Detroit because I interceded for them. Give 
 the devil his due, lad, and remember I come now on a 
 mission of peace." 
 
 " More likely of treachery,'* I interrupted boldly, 
 " and not the first time." 
 
 " Nor likely to be the last," he admitted coolly 
 enough. " I am more Indian than white. I have learned 
 to war in the fashion of the woods. Yet now I play 
 fair, above-board see? " and he dropped his gun on 
 the grass, and held out his empty hands. " It is easy 
 to kill me, yet you will not you are a soldier." 
 
 [12]
 
 At the Fort Gates 
 
 I stood irresolute, hesitating, half tempted still to 
 come to blows. I cared nothing for what he said; I 
 knew him for what he was, yet his act disarmed me. 
 Beast though he might be I could not kill him in cold 
 blood; I was no murderer, yet it was a struggle to re- 
 sist 
 
 " Now listen, Simon Girty," I managed to say, at 
 last. " There is no friendship between us, now nor at 
 any time. I hold you a murderous renegade, a white 
 savage, to be shown less mercy than an Indian dog. But 
 I leave others to deal with you as you deserve. As you 
 say, I am a soldier, and will act like one. I have pledged 
 you my word of guidance to Fort Harmar. I will keep 
 the pledge to the letter, but no more. Beyond the gate 
 you proceed at your own risk, for I lift no hand to pro- 
 tect you from just vengeance. I despise you too much 
 to fear you. Pick up your rifle. That is all: now we 
 will break our fast, and go." 
 
 He did as I bade him, grinning as though it was all a 
 joke, but with no effort to answer. Whatever might 
 be his real purpose, he had no desire to quarrel, nor to 
 resent my plain speech; indeed, I thought he held my 
 words a compliment, rejoicing in his reputation, proud 
 of those atrocities with which his name was linked in 
 infamy. 
 
 I had no need to tell him what to do. He was a woods- 
 [13]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 man, efficient enough, and between us, a fire was quickly 
 made and the cock prepared. We ate silently, our eyes 
 occasionally meeting, but I had no wish to converse, 
 being busy enough with my own thoughts. There was 
 little cordiality to my manner, I presume, and the fel- 
 low had the good sense to hold his tongue, although his 
 appetite did not suffer. The meal finished we packed 
 for the trail, and started out briskly down the bank of 
 the stream. 
 
 Convinced as I was that Girty actually desired to 
 reach the fort, although somewhat skeptical as to his 
 purpose, I felt no fear of treachery. I was of too great 
 value to the fellow to warrant an attack; so, without 
 hesitation, I led the way, permitting him to follow or 
 not, as he pleased. I doubt if we exchanged a dozen 
 words all day, the two of us tramping steadily. My 
 thoughts and suspicions kept my mind busy, and he 
 must have realized the aversion I felt, and the value of 
 a silent tongue. Words would have inevitably led to 
 quarrel, and without my aid there was small chance of 
 his ever reaching the settlements unharmed. Our pas- 
 sage was open most of the way, permitting rapid prog- 
 ress, although as we drew nearer the river the forest 
 crept down close to the bank of the smaller stream 
 and served to delay progress. We camped that night 
 within view of the Ohio, smoking our pipes in gloomy 
 
 [14]
 
 At the Fort Gates 
 
 silence over the dying fire, after a frugal meal, and 
 finally falling asleep, with scarcely an utterance pass- 
 ing between us. 
 
 I had it in my mind to question him, but refrained. 
 What would be the use? The fellow would only lie, 
 in all probability, and one word would lead to another. 
 He would have to be explicit enough once he confronted 
 Harmar, and my duty merely consisted in delivering him 
 safely at the gates of the fort. That in itself was no 
 task to be enjoyed, as I felt an inclination to throttle 
 the ruffian every time I looked at him. To address him 
 decently was almost beyond my power, and the con- 
 tempt of silence remained my only refuge. The night 
 passed without disturbance, Girty sleeping peacefully 
 enough, but I was restless, rising twice to assure my- 
 self he was still there. With the first flush of dawn I 
 awoke him roughly, and by sunrise we were again on 
 the trail, headed south through the woods. 
 
 It was noon when we came to the clearings, littered 
 with stumps, but yielding view of the distant river, and 
 the scattered log houses of Marietta. Men were at 
 work in the fields, but I avoided these as much as possi- 
 ble, although they paused in their labor and stared sus- 
 piciously at us as we advanced. However I was well 
 known, my size making me notable, and as our course 
 was toward the town, no one objected to our progress. 
 
 [15]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 We were silently accepted as hunters returning unsuc- 
 cessful from the woods ; but I noticed those nearest eyed 
 my companion closely, little liking his hang-dog appear- 
 ance. Yet there was no recognition of the man, who 
 clung close to my heels, and I wasted no time in getting 
 past, eager to be well rid of him. 
 
 In truth I felt little hope of getting thro' thus easily. 
 The fellow was too widely known not to be recognized 
 by someone. These men of the fields were settlers, newly 
 arrived mostly, and slightly acquainted as yet with bor- 
 der history, but there would be idle hunters in the vil- 
 lage, backwoodsmen from across the river, men who had 
 ranged the northern forests, and to whom the name of 
 Girty meant much. Let one of these look upon the man 
 and his life would scarce be worth the snap of a finger. 
 Not that I cared, except as his safe passage involved my 
 own word. His comprehension of the danger was re- 
 vealed by the sudden question shot over my shoulder: 
 
 " You go through the settlement, Master Hay- 
 ward?" 
 
 " No," I answered sharply, " I am not seeking 
 trouble. We turn here to the left." 
 
 Hence it was some time later that we climbed the long 
 hill in the sunshine, and attained the level before the 
 fort. 
 
 I shall never blot out from memory the view from 
 [16]
 
 At the Fort Gates 
 
 the summit of the bluff, although I gave it little enough 
 thought that day with Girty following at my heels. Yet 
 I paused long enough to note his eyes sweep the wide 
 circle as though even his hardened soul felt response to 
 the rare beauty of the scene. The two rivers the 
 Muskingum, a mere thread showing through the green 
 of the forest, and the Ohio, a broad gleam of gold daz- 
 zling in the sun met far below us, the latter sweeping 
 in a great bend to the northward between shores covered 
 with green forests. It was all wilderness far as the eye 
 could see, except that beneath the bluff little clearings 
 dotted the woodland, and on the nearby bank of the 
 silvery Muskingum appeared the log houses of the set- 
 tlement. The smoke curling lazily from those distant 
 chimneys, the diminutive figures of men toiling in the 
 fields, the occasional appearance of women and chil- 
 dren in the streets of the village, helped compose a pic- 
 ture of peace. Yet as I glanced back into the face of 
 the man beside me, I realized suddenly how close sav- 
 age war lurked in the depths of the surrounding forest. 
 Torture and death, suffering and hardship, were close 
 at hand, and he was their fit representative. 
 
 " Come along," I said harshly. " I would be done 
 with you." 
 
 We advanced up the road to where the fort gates 
 stood open, a single sentry standing motionless between 
 
 [17]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 the posts. As we drew near, a group of hunters a 
 half-dozen maybe suddenly emerged, their long rifles 
 trailing, on their way to the valley. I recognized the 
 man in advance as the Kentuckian Brady, frontiersman 
 and Indian fighter, and recognizing me he stopped. 
 
 " Ah, back again, Master Hayward," he exclaimed 
 good humoredly. " And with what luck? " 
 
 " Not much," I replied, anxious to get by. " There 
 are too many hunters out, and the game is shy. Per- 
 chance I lack the skill of you who make forest ranging 
 a trade." 
 
 " And a poor trade enough," he answered, " only I 
 know no better. But what is it you have here? No set- 
 tler of this valley, to my remembrance." 
 
 He stared at my companion, shading his eyes with 
 one hand, his face losing its look of cheerfulness. 
 
 " Indian trappings hey ! " he exclaimed. " Some 
 northwest renegade ! Stop ! I 've seen that face be- 
 fore ! " His rifle came forward swiftly, as the truth 
 burst upon him. " Curse you, you 're Simon Girty ! " 
 
 I gripped the barrel of his gun, pressing my way be- 
 tween him and the others behind. 
 
 " Whatever his name," I said sternly, " this is not 
 your affair. The fellow comes with message from Ham- 
 ilton, and has my pledge of safe guidance. Stand back 
 now, and let us pass ! " 
 
 [18]
 
 He gazed at me and at the man beside me, his 
 gray eyes dark with anger. He was not a man I 
 knew well personally, but many border tales of his 
 prowess, and of his fierce, undying hatred of all In- 
 dians, had reached my ears. As he stood there now, 
 blocking the passage, tall, gaunt, gray-bearded, his 
 eyes full of defiance, I understood the seriousness of his 
 menace. Those men with him would be swayed by his 
 words he was their leader. Not a face among them 
 was known to me Kentuckians all, no doubt ; " long 
 knives " scarcely less barbarous than the savages they 
 fought. 
 
 " I '11 not stand back," he said, wrestling to break my 
 grip on his rifle. " Not to let that devil go free. Let 
 go of the gun barrel, you young fool ! I 'm not one of 
 your soldiers. Here Potter, Evans, do you hear? That 
 is the bloody villain Girty come on ! " 
 
 They had hold of me instantly hurling me back in 
 spite of my struggling. I saw the renegade throw for- 
 ward his rifle, and shouted to him. 
 
 " Do n't do that, you fool run ! " 
 
 Even as I cried out the order I leaped forward, seek- 
 ing to get grip on Brady, hurling the others aside with 
 a sweep of my arms. There was an instant of fierce 
 fighting, of blows, curses, threats. I lunged over the 
 rifle barrel, and got grip on Brady's beard, only to 
 
 [19]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 be hauled back by a dozen hands, and flung to my 
 knees. 
 
 " Sentry ! Call the guard ! " 
 
 I got the words out somehow, boring my way forth 
 from under the huddle of forms. There was a rush of 
 feet, the shouting of an order, the shock of contact, and 
 then I stood alone, wiping the perspiration from my 
 eyes. 
 
 [20]
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 WITH GENERAL HARMAR 
 
 'TTIHAT will do, sergeant," I called out, the moment 
 
 * I could gain breath. "Here now, do n't hit that 
 man! Surround this fellow and take him inside the 
 stockade. Never mind me ; I '11 take care of myself." 
 
 The little squad tramped off, Girty in their midst, his 
 head turned back over his shoulder watchfully. I 
 stepped forward fronting Brady, and held out my hand. 
 
 " Sorry this happened," I said soberly, " but I prom- 
 ised to bring the man to the fort, and I had to defend 
 him." 
 
 " He 's a bloody savage ! " he retorted, with an oath, 
 and making no responsive movement ; " he 's worse than 
 any Injun on the border." 
 
 " I know all that, Brady. I despise the fellow as 
 much as any of you, although I may not have suffered 
 through his acts as some of you have. But he is here 
 in peace, not war. To injure him now might cost 
 hundreds of lives. Let him give his message to General 
 Harmar; after that we shall know how to deal with the 
 skunk. At least do not hold this against me ; I only did 
 my duty." 
 
 [21]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 Brady loosened his grip on his gun, and took my 
 hand. 
 
 " I understand that, boy," he said, not unkindly. 
 " Your fighting was square enough, and no harm done. 
 I like the way you went at it, but I reckon you do n't 
 quite sense how we old Kentuckians feel about renegades 
 o' that stripe. 'Taint natural you should, for there ain't 
 been no Injun war to amount to anything since you 
 come to this country. But I 've seen that greasy devil 
 in paint an' feathers ; so has Evans here, an' these yer 
 young fellows know some of the dirt he 's done. He 's 
 led war parties against us, an' killed our neighbors. 
 That skunk stood by an' let 'em burn ol' man Roddy at 
 the stake, an' never raised a hand. It 's a hellish fact, 
 true, sir ! An' he only laughed at Kenton when the red- 
 skins made him run the gauntlet. The ugly cur ought 
 to be skinned alive ! " 
 
 " I 've heard all that," I replied when he stopped, his 
 eyes blazing angrily. " But two wrongs never made a 
 right, men. He came here voluntarily as a messenger. 
 The tribes are in council at Sandusky and sent him. 
 That is why I stood in his defense against you. We 
 must learn what word he brings. If he were killed on 
 such a mission every Indian in the northwest would feel 
 called upon to avenge his death. It would mean raids 
 and warfare the whole length of the Ohio ; it would mean
 
 With General H or mar 
 
 the murder of women and children ; the burning of 
 homes, and all the horrors of Indian warfare for years 
 to come. There is only a fringe of white settlers on this 
 side of the river, Brady, and a mere handful of soldiers 
 to defend them. All the northwest tribes are united 
 together against us, securely backed and encouraged by 
 British agents. English troops still occupy the forts 
 about the great lakes, and furnish their allies with guns 
 and ammunition. Hamilton, and his emissaries, travel 
 from tribe to tribe; his officers and spies scour the 
 woods. All that is needed to touch a match to the mag- 
 azine is an excuse. Any act of treachery the kill- 
 ing of a messenger, even a cur like Girty would be 
 enough. Hamilton cannot control those fiends once they 
 feel the blood-lust. We cannot afford to have war, we 
 are not ready." 
 
 " Ready? rot! I am for going in now, an* finishing 
 the job. This new government policy of strokin' those 
 devils on the back, makes me sick. That ain't the way 
 we cleaned up Kentucky." 
 
 " Easier said than done, Brady. This is n't Ken- 
 tucky, and the conditions are different. Those were 
 hunters and backwoodsmen who took possession of that 
 land to the south. They came alone, on foot, rifle in 
 hand, fighting men every one. That was their trade. 
 These settlers who have come in north of the Ohio are 
 
 [23]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 of a different breed; they have brought wives and chil- 
 dren with them, and have come to till the land. They are 
 not hunters and woodsmen ; half of them never even saw 
 an Indian. They would be as helpless as babes on a 
 war trail. They are colonists from the East, brought 
 out here by organized companies, and promised the pro- 
 tection of regular troops. And what is there between 
 them and the savages yonder? Two small companies 
 of infantry here at Harmar, and maybe a hundred more 
 men scattered at little posts west of Fort Pitt. And you 
 talk of fighting all the northwest tribes with a handful 
 like that ! Ay ! and the British garrisons back of them ! 
 Start it, my friend, and let me tell you that inside of 
 thirty days there would n't be a white settler left alive 
 along this river. St. Clair and Harmar are doing the 
 best they can under such conditions. They have got to 
 compromise ; they do n't dare provoke war. The Indians 
 and the British know this is true ; Girty knows it, or he 
 never would have ventured to come in here what is 
 it, Faulkner? " 
 
 The sergeant, a short, stocky fellow, saluted stiffly. 
 
 " The compliments of General Harmar, sir, and 
 would you come to his office." 
 
 " At once ; what did you do with the man you were 
 put in charge of? " 
 
 " He is in the guardhouse, sir." 
 [24]
 
 With General Harmar 
 
 " You reported his arrival to General Harmar? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, and he said he desired to talk with you 
 first." 
 
 " Very well, sergeant, as soon as I can slip out of 
 these hunting clothes. Am I right, Brady? " 
 
 " Maybe so," he admitted reluctantly, " but that 
 ain't my style o' handling Injuns. I reckon we '11 hang 
 'round boys, till we see what 's comin' out o' this yer 
 message bearin'. I 'd sure like to be in any fracas whar 
 I could get a slam at that hound o' hell." 
 
 Fort Harmar consisted merely of a few one-story 
 houses, surrounded by a log stockade. The houses were 
 against, or rather formed the rear defense, and faced 
 the gate, with a considerable open space between, some- 
 times utilized as a drill ground for a single company. 
 Sentry boxes were at each corner, and a long building 
 of logs, intended as a barracks, but generally unoccu- 
 pied except as a receptacle for odds and ends, extended 
 across the north side. The commandant's office was to 
 the south. Altogether it was a rude, primitive arrange- 
 ment, typical of the hastily erected frontier forts lo- 
 cated along the river, intended more for the housing of 
 troops than any stern purpose of defense. Situated as 
 it was, on the summit of the bluff, and surrounded by 
 open land, it might be successfully defended against 
 Indian attack, but otherwise was a mere stockade camp. 
 
 [25]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 guardhouse stood just within the gates, and sen- 
 tries walked a narrow platform from which they could 
 see over the stockade and keep watch in every direction. 
 For those days discipline was strict in the garrison, and 
 the troops were well drilled, as General Harmar was a 
 vigilant commander, delighting in martial order and 
 display. 
 
 It required but a few moments for me to shift 
 my hunting suit for a suitable uniform, and this ac- 
 complished, I hurried across the parade to the office. 
 The orderly admitted me at once. General Harmar 
 was alone, sitting beside a small writing table, and be- 
 gan questioning me the instant I appeared. 
 
 " Close the door, Mr. Hayward. Now, sir, what is 
 it that just happened outside the gate? Fighting with 
 some of my scouts, I understand, over a fellow you 
 brought in with you? I presume there was some cause 
 for this unseemly quarrel? " 
 
 " There was, General Harmar," I replied, standing 
 cap in hand. 
 
 He leaned back in his chair, drumming with one 
 hand on the table, his stern eyes on my face. 
 
 " Then make your report, sir." 
 
 I went over the events of the past few hours rapidly, 
 but clearly, and there was no interruption until I ceased 
 to speak. 
 
 [26]
 
 With General Harmar 
 
 " Who did you say the man was ? " 
 
 " Simon Girty, sir. That was the name he gave me, 
 and Brady recognized him at once." 
 
 Harmar rose to his feet, and stormed across the room, 
 trying to find voice for his anger. 
 
 " And they dare send that bloody fiend in here to 
 negotiate with me! and I will have to see and talk with 
 the dog ! If only I had a thousand men to use in defense 
 of this frontier, I J d have him kicked out of the gates 
 inside of five minutes. But what have I? Barely three 
 hundred, and half of them recruits, the scum of city 
 alleys, who do not even know the beginning of the man- 
 ual of arms. The whole lot are not equal to a single 
 platoon of Continentals in a fight. That is what they 
 give me with which to protect fifteen hundred miles of 
 frontier. And I am expected to keep peace peace 
 with howling red savages, stirred into frenzy by British 
 agents, and white renegades. And to do it, I must 
 crawl on my belly, and speak soft to this dog Girty. I 
 would St. Clair was here." 
 
 He stopped suddenly. 
 
 " What is his mission? Did he say? " 
 
 " Not a word, sir, except that he represented the 
 tribes, and bore a message from Hamilton." 
 
 "Think you he lied? Is his purpose to learn our 
 strength and position ? " 
 
 [27]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " No, sir, I think not," I replied soberly. " There 
 was no necessity ; beyond doubt they know that already. 
 I do not think the fellow would dare come other than 
 he said: he is not of that breed." 
 
 "A coward?" 
 
 " At heart yes. A savage full of treachery, sneak- 
 ing and malicious; willing enough to fight with odds in 
 his favor, but not the kind to stand up to it alone." 
 
 " You think I should see him, then ? " 
 
 " You would assume a great risk not to do so, sir. 
 The man may be the bearer of important word." 
 
 He walked back and forth across the room, his hands 
 clasped, his head bent in thought. He was a florid- 
 faced, heavily-built man, his step heavy on the puncheon 
 floor. Facing the door, he stopped with sudden decision. 
 
 " Orderly," he called, " have the sergeant of the 
 guard bring the messenger here at once. Search him 
 for weapons first." 
 
 He turned toward me. 
 
 " I do not trust the villain, but I '11 hear his tale. I 
 may need you, Mr. Hayward; remain there in the back 
 room until I call." 
 
 I could see no door. 
 
 "Where, sir?" 
 
 " In the den, beyond : the robe hides the entrance. 
 If I need you I will call. The dog is coming now." 
 
 [28]
 
 With General Harmar 
 
 I could see him out through the window, walking be- 
 side the sergeant across the parade, and stepping back 
 I pushed aside the robe. The door thus revealed was 
 caught by a wooden latch. I opened it, and stepped 
 within.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 A GIRL OF THE NORTH 
 
 interior of this room which I now entered for 
 the first time was a revelation to me. While I had 
 been aware that the office of the commandant did not oc- 
 cupy the entire log structure, I had supposed that the 
 remaining space was merely a storehouse, although in 
 truth I had given the matter no real consideration. I 
 had been at the fort barely a month, engaged arduously 
 in the drilling of recruits, and had paid small attention 
 to anything else. So as I entered I stood, the door 
 closing behind me, and stared about in astonishment. 
 
 It was fitted up as a lounging room, a den ; yet bear- 
 ing more resemblance to the tepee of a savage, than any 
 abode of civilization. The trappings of war, the trib- 
 utes of the chase, were everywhere in evidence. Skins 
 of wild animals decorated the walls, concealing the logs 
 from view, while others covered the floor. Above the 
 open fireplace were huge antlers, while on every side 
 were the heads of bear, lynx, and wild cat, staring 
 through glassy eyes. Firearms of various periods hung 
 between, the collection extending from blunderbuss to 
 long rifle, with many specimens of smaller arms, in- 
 
 [31]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 eluding a pair of black-handled Derringers. It would 
 have been a sombre scene but for the bright colored 
 flags festooned from wall to wall, and the sunlight 
 which streamed in through the single high window, ac- 
 centuating the rich glow of various Indian blankets 
 flung over couch and chair. In the center stood a table 
 of walnut with curiously carved legs, upholding tobacco 
 and pipes, together with writing material, and in the 
 fireplace a back log threw out little spits of flame. 
 
 I saw all this with a single glance as I shut the door, 
 yet almost with the instant, my entire attention was 
 riveted upon an occupant, and I stood motionless, 
 scarcely crediting my own eyes, as I stared across the 
 table at the couch against the farther wall. It was in 
 shadow, underneath the window, draped by a yellow 
 blanket, and in one cushioned corner sat a girl, her dark 
 head bent low over an open book. So intent was she 
 upon the pages that she had not heard my entrance, or 
 else remained indifferent, thinking me no stranger to 
 the apartment. The light gave me but partial view, 
 and her lowered head left her face in deep shadow, yet 
 surely she was no one whom I had ever seen before 
 no lady of the garrison, few enough to be well remem- 
 bered, and no guest at Marietta, unless perchance 
 some arrival from up river within the last three days. 
 That was possible, although no rumor of descending
 
 A Girl of the North 
 
 boats had reached my ears. Yet if so, who could she 
 be thus thoroughly at home in this room? A daughter 
 of the General's ? A relative of the Governor's ? 
 
 She was young, scarcely out of her girlhood from the 
 clear profile of her cheek, olive-tinted in the shadow, with 
 a profusion of hair black as night, and a figure slender, 
 but not tall. I saw a shapely hand, sunbrowncd and 
 ringless, had glimpse of a rounded arm, and a full 
 throat revealed by the low-cut garment she wore, and 
 suddenly noted that the dress was of Indian style and 
 texture, fringed and beaded profusely, fastened by gay 
 ribbons, and that her limbs were encased in leather, 
 while moccasins, bright with the glitter of beads, served 
 to protect her feet. To me she looked a wilderness 
 fairy, a nut-brown maid of the woods, rather than any 
 product of civilized lands. Even her posture of careless 
 abandon was that of the wild. I could not easily as- 
 sociate such a creature as this with either Harmar or 
 St. Clair; yet who could she be, here, and alone? I 
 moved, rattling the latch to attract attention to rny 
 presence, yet the witch never glanced up, turning a 
 page of her book lazily. 
 
 " Your pardon," I ventured, and cap in hand, ad- 
 vanced to the table nearer her. 
 
 She came to her feet in an instant, the book sliding 
 to the floor, the long black lashes no longer shadowing 
 
 [33]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 the dark eyes gazing toward me in sudden interest. She 
 was small, swift of movement as a forest hare, yet for 
 the instant I saw only her face, and the unfathomable 
 depths of those eyes. They were full of bewilderment, 
 surprise, laughter. As though some mysterious mes- 
 sage had passed between us, I knew she was glad I had 
 come. 
 
 " Why, Monsieur," she exclaimed, hesitating slightly 
 over the words, " I am startled ! You should feel my 
 heart beat so fast. I thought it the Generail, yes 
 who else ? But I nevaire see you before ; you you 
 are an officier of the Americains ? " 
 
 " Yes, I belong to this garrison. But the surprise 
 of finding you here was mine also. I was not told the 
 room was occupied and you are French ? " 
 
 She laughed, showing a dimple in either cheek, and a 
 flash of white teeth. 
 
 " How you say that, Monsieur?" she questioned 
 archly. " When I speak so good the English. Eet was 
 wonderful you know." 
 
 " Then I am right, Mademoiselle ? " 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders, with an odd gesture. 
 
 " Mon Dieu! How should I know? It was the tongue 
 I learned first, an' this English eet was most hard, most 
 deeficult. I like eet not at all. Maybe yqu speak my 
 language, Monsieur ? Eet make me so happy." 
 
 [34]
 
 A Girl of the North 
 
 I shook my head, yet had to smile at the eagerness 
 of her face. 
 
 " Not well enough to be of any help, I fear. All I 
 know of the tongue I picked up along the frontier from 
 stray traders. Back in my home one language answered 
 all purposes." 
 
 "Your home?" 
 
 " Yes, in Maryland : back beyond the mountains," 
 noting her expression of wonderment, and pointing east- 
 ward. " I could ask for food, drink, and guidance at a 
 French hunters' camp, but beyond that am helpless. 
 Your eyes tell me, Mademoiselle, that the country east 
 of here is strange to you." 
 
 " Theese Mary-land I nevaire know before non ! 
 non! I read in ze English book of Vir-ginia an* of ze 
 
 what you call eet? Connec-cut. I thought those 
 the home of the Americans. Ees eet not so? " 
 
 I sought to explain, naming over the various newly 
 organized states, and briefly defining their relations 
 and boundaries, but she only gazed at me more puzzled 
 than ever. As I paused she laughed again. 
 
 " You try so hard, but I not know yet. Such names ! 
 I could not say them Mass-a-chu-setts, Pennsilva-na 
 
 how you say that, Monsieur? Oui, but I cannot so 
 twist my lips: yet I care not, only to remember where 
 was your home Ma-ry-lan, ees eet not so ? " 
 
 [35]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " Very well done, indeed," I answered, falling into 
 her humor, " and do I dare ask now from what part 
 of the land you hail? " 
 
 "You not know me, Monsieur? " her eyes drooping, 
 then uplifting again. " An' you an officier of the Ameri- 
 cains ? " 
 
 " No : I have been absent hunting. I only returned 
 an hour ago." 
 
 " Een the woods ? Way out beyond ? An' you saw 
 no Indian, no French courier des boisf " 
 
 " Not one ; only a white renegade I brought in with 
 me bearing a message." 
 
 "From the tribes, Monsieur? From Detroit? " 
 
 " From the tribes, yes," I answered, surprised at her 
 eagerness, yet seeing no harm in a frank reply, " but 
 they were in council at Sandusky." 
 
 " Sandusky ! " the word seemed to cling to her red 
 lips. " He he was a Frenchman then ? " 
 
 " Who ? the messenger ? Not he. We can under- 
 stand the relationship between the Canadian French and 
 the savages. They have always been friends, but this 
 cur is of another breed warring against his own peo- 
 ple." 
 
 She leaned forward, the laughter aH gone from her 
 eyes. 
 
 " Who who was he, Monsieur? n 
 [36]
 
 A Girl of the North 
 
 I hesitated, wondering at her insistence, her eager- 
 ness. She leaned forward almost touching me with her 
 fingers. 
 
 " Please, Monsieur : you can tell me." 
 " A white dog named Girty ; we know him well." 
 " Simon Girty ! " her hands clasped, her lips un- 
 consciously repeating the name. " And from San- 
 dusky ! You say he brought message from the tribes ? 
 Mon Dieu! 'T is strange they should choose him. He 
 said so, Monsieur? " 
 
 " He claimed to represent the tribes, but his mes- 
 sage was from Hamilton." 
 
 " An' he is there at Sandusky this Monsieur 
 Hamilton?" 
 
 " He was there yes : at least so Girty reports ; but 
 I know nothing as to where he may be now back in 
 Detroit likely, plotting new mischief." 
 
 "You think ill of heem? Of Monsieur Hamilton? " 
 " Do I ? Pray, Mademoiselle, how could it be other- 
 wise? That country is all ours, ours by treaty, yet the 
 British hold it still, merely because we lack strength to 
 take possession. Their troops continue to garrison the 
 lake forts, protected by a fringe of savages, kept war- 
 like by British agents, promising aid they dare never 
 give. And Hamilton is at head of it all. His red 
 war parties ravage our settlements, kill, rob, murder, 
 
 [37]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 and then find protection behind the English flag. Their 
 prisoners go to Detroit; their guns and ammunition 
 come from there. There have been occasions when 
 British agents have headed their raids, and Hamilton 
 is the archdevil of the whole conspiracy. Who, but such 
 a man, would dare send Simon Girty here? " 
 
 My indignant speech had slight effect on her, for 
 she laughed as I ended. 
 
 " Eet was done most well so fine I laff, Monsieur. 
 But why you say that to me? Because I am here? in this 
 house of the Americaine generail? Bah! we are to- 
 gether: we are alone. My people are yonder in the 
 woods : I serve not these long faces who sing psalms. 
 Tell me, Monsieur," and she touched my hands, her 
 pleading eyes looking up into mine, " why is eet you are 
 here? I can be trusted." 
 
 I stared down into her eager face, almost believing I 
 must be dreaming, yet conscious enough of her deep 
 earnestness. What was it she thought or imagined? 
 What strange hallucination had taken possession of 
 her? Could it be she was insane? that she was being 
 held here a prisoner? I drew back, freeing myself from 
 the grasp of her fingers, so bewildered I found speech 
 difficult. Yet, wild as her swift words were, they were 
 not those of one crazed: they were coherent, plain, and 
 the upturned face was eloquent with appeal. Could 
 
 [38]
 
 A Girl of the North 
 
 she mistake me for another? be deceived as to my iden- 
 tity? The thought seemed impossible, almost ridicu- 
 lous. How could it be, when I stood before her in 
 uniform, and had already declared myself an officer of 
 the garrison ? The eyes gazing up at me seemed misty, 
 as though they held unshed tears. 
 
 " Please, Monsieur," she urged anxiously. " I am 
 but a girl a girl of the North yet I can be trusted. 
 Tell me quick, so I can help." 
 
 " But I do not understand, Mademoiselle, I have 
 told you who I am. Why should you speak like this ? " 
 
 " Because I know you," she insisted. " Because I 
 have seen you before." 
 
 " Know me ! " I smiled, indulgent of her whim, con- 
 vinced now I dealt with a mind diseased. " That is 
 hardly possible." 
 
 " But I do, Monsieur Hayward, I do. Have you no 
 memory of me? Of my face? Why are you so afraid 
 to have faith? " 
 
 She had spoken my name, and I gazed at her in wide- 
 eyed astonishment. Surely we had never met ; yet how 
 could she know? 
 
 "Am I not right?" 
 
 " Yes, but I have no memory of seeing you before, 
 and you are not one to be easily forgotten. Tell me 
 who you are? " 
 
 [39]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 The dimples exhibited themselves in either cheek, yet 
 she faced me without a movement. 
 
 " Eet is not right you should forget, Monsieur ; eet 
 is no compliment. Yet I will answer; I am not afraid, 
 and then you must remember. I am Rene D'Auvray." 
 
 The name meant nothing, told nothing. 
 
 "Rene D'Auvray?" I repeated dumbly, striving to 
 make the sound familiar. 
 
 " Oui, Monsieur : now " 
 
 She sprang back beyond the table, one finger at her 
 lips. The door opened at my back. 
 
 " Now Hayward," said Harmar's voice bruskly. 
 " I *ve done with that scoundrel, and would speak again 
 with you." 
 
 My eyes clung for just an instant to those of the girl, 
 shrinking back into the shadows. Then I turned and 
 went out, my mind full of bewilderment. 
 
 [40]
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 A PERILOUS VENTURE 
 
 ENERAL HARMAR strode across the room to his 
 chair, and sat down, staring out of the window, 
 his eyes frowning. I closed the door, and stood waiting, 
 swiftly determining to discover the identity of that 
 young woman within, and feeling slight heed of aught 
 else. Harmar turned his eyes toward me, surveying me 
 a moment in silence. 
 
 " What do you weigh, Hay ward ? " he snapped out, 
 as tho' noting my girth for the first time. 
 
 " Two hundred and thirty, sir." 
 
 " Huh ! and every inch muscle and bone from the 
 look of you. Captain Rennolls tells me you are a good 
 soldier." 
 
 " I am thankful for his opinion, General Harmar." 
 
 " Yes, I asked him a few days ago, when I signed 
 your application for leave. Had n't seen much of you 
 myself, as you have only been here a short time." 
 
 " A few months, sir ; I brought down the last batch 
 of recruits from Fort Pitt." 
 
 " I know : watched you drill them out there, the 
 louts. Zounds ! They are not even fit food for powder. 
 
 [41]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 Where do you suppose the recruiting officers find such 
 stuff as they send out here? Never saw their breed in 
 the old army ; but I suppose you are too young to know 
 much about that? " 
 
 " I enlisted in the Maryland Line at sixteen, General, 
 and served through the Yorktown campaign." 
 
 " Then you are twenty-seven now ? " 
 
 " Next month, sir." 
 
 " By gad ! you do n't look it. However, I 'm glad 
 you are no boy, for I 've got some serious work picked 
 out for you. How far north have you ever been ? " 
 
 " To the forks of the Muskingum." 
 
 He drummed with his fingers on the table ; then pored 
 over a rough map. 
 
 " Huh ! the hard travel will be beyond, after you 
 leave the boat. Would you undertake a journey to 
 Sandusky?" 
 
 " Alone, sir ? " I asked, startled at the question, the 
 distance vague in my mind. 
 
 " With a scout, who knows the woods," he answered, 
 studying my face, " and an enlisted man to cook, and 
 do odd jobs around camp. A small party is better 
 than a large one on such a trip." He paused, thinking. 
 
 " I will obey orders, sir. I am a soldier." 
 
 " Yes ! " he got to his feet. " But now that is n't 
 what I want. I expect my men to do that. But this is 
 
 [42]
 
 A Perilous Venture 
 
 not strictly a military matter, and I give you no orders. 
 I need a confidential messenger, a man of intelligence 
 and nerve; but he will take his life in his hand, and 
 possibly to no purpose. I half suspect treachery, and 
 will order no officer of my command to such hazardous 
 service." 
 
 He stopped, and stood staring out of the window, 
 his broad back toward me. Just for an instant I hesi- 
 tated to break the silence, my mind busy with stories of 
 that long wood trail through the Indian country, where 
 death lurked in every forest covert, and torture wel- 
 comed the unfortunate captive. I understood what 
 acceptance of such a commission meant, yet the spirit 
 of youth, the love of adventure, was strong within me 
 stronger even than caution. 
 
 " You must deem this matter of grave importance," 
 I said, at last firmly, " and need seek no further ; I 
 volunteer to go." 
 
 He wheeled about, and grasped my hand. 
 
 " I thought so, Hayward. I am not often mistaken 
 in a man, and I like your face. Yet do not be too hasty 
 in decision. Sit down here, where we can have the map 
 between us, until I can explain what hell is brewing in 
 the pot of those north woods. What think you honestly 
 of Simon Girty?" 
 
 " Everything bad ; a scoundrel from head to foot." 
 [43]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " Ay ! yet Hamilton uses him. The man was a mes- 
 senger, even as he claimed. The Englishman wrote 
 that with his own hand ; I have seen the writing before.'* 
 
 He pushed the crumpled bit of paper across, and I 
 read the crooked lines slowly, for the penmanship was 
 almost illegible. Twice I read it, half convinced my 
 brain played me some trick. 
 
 " Is this true, sir? "^ 
 
 " Some of it is ; enough to make me afraid it may 
 all be. The exact situation is this, Hayward. The 
 tribes of the northwest are ready for war. In spite 
 of the influence of the chiefs many of the young men 
 are already on the war trail. They are in small parties 
 ranging the woods, attacking outlying settlers and 
 hunters. Stories of outrages come drifting in here 
 every day. Nothing prevents a general outbreak but 
 British restraint, and the opposition of the Wyandots." 
 
 " A strong nation." 
 
 " The most important in the Indian alliance. They 
 are no friends of ours, yet they claim to be Christian, 
 converted by French Jesuits, and thus far the priests 
 have held them on the side of peace. For the first time 
 their chiefs have met in council with the others and 
 threaten war. Do you understand the cause? " 
 
 " Not clearly, sir ; because of some prisoner we hold, 
 is it not? " 
 
 [44]
 
 A Perilous Venture 
 
 " It was Greek to me, also, until Girty explained. 
 That is where trouble arises. We have no such pris- 
 oner, but if I send that word back by Girty, they will 
 believe I lied. But if an officer of this garrison goes 
 boldly to them, in response to their challenge; faces 
 them at their council fire, and says so openly they will 
 probably accept his word. That there is danger in 
 such a trip I do not deny ; the Indians are badly wrought 
 up, or Hamilton would never send us warning. You 
 may be held as hostage, or suffer even a worse fate. I 
 can promise no protection, and I doubt if even the 
 British can control the warriors if they think we are 
 attempting deceit." 
 
 " If the Wyandots join the other tribes it will mean 
 war?" 
 
 " Yes ; the length and breadth of the frontier. I 
 have no force with which to meet them; hundreds of 
 lives men, women and children will be destroyed ; 
 settlements ruined. I doubt if there be a white man left 
 north of the Ohio in three months if those fiends 
 break loose. This is not my work, endeavoring to treat 
 with those red devils. It is the duty of the Governor. 
 But St. Clair is away; I have no means of reaching 
 him with this information. The Wyandots demand 
 instant reply, and our messenger must reach them as 
 soon as, if not before, the return of Girty." 
 
 [45]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " Do I have my choice of scouts ? " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Then I will take Brady, sir." 
 
 " The best man available. I would have named him, 
 only I feared your late trouble had left you enemies." 
 
 " Not at all ; it was a fair fight." 
 
 I sat thinking in silence, and Harmar waited. The 
 danger of the journey unrolled before me in imagina- 
 tion the perilous waterways ; the long trail thro' 
 the trackless woods, menaced by roving Indian bands; 
 the hostile tribes in council; the chances of treachery 
 and death lurking in every step of the way. Audacity, 
 determination, the lives dependent on my success, gave 
 me courage. It was a work someone must do. I drew 
 the letter over again, and studied it. 
 
 " You are sure, General, this * Wa-pe-tee-tah ' is not 
 in our hands? At some of the other forts? " 
 
 " As sure as I can be ; I heard from Pitt yesterday, 
 with reports from the garrisons between, and no account 
 was made of such a prisoner being brought in. Ham- 
 brouck wrote me from Vincennes two weeks ago some 
 French voyageurs left the letter on their way up the 
 river and he mentions nothing save his troubles 
 with the Indians of the Wabash, who are most impudent 
 and unruly the worst of the lot to my notion. I 
 expect the fellow has been killed in the woods." 
 
 [46]
 
 A Perilous Venture 
 
 "A man, then? A chief?" To my ears the name 
 had feminine sound " Wa-pe-tee-tah ; 'tis as musical 
 as a brook." 
 
 " Ay ! it sounds like that ; but Girty gave me some 
 other name I have forgotten. Gad ! I hated so to talk 
 with the foul-mouthed renegade, that I asked few ques- 
 tions ; only you may be sure 'tis no squaw the Wyandots 
 would war over. A medicine man, or something of that 
 kidney, as I understand ; Girty said a religious teacher, 
 whom the tribe loved more than a chief." 
 
 " Is that all the story, sir? " 
 
 " Except as to when and how the fellow disappeared. 
 It seems he journeyed with other Wyandots to the 
 Miamis on some mission, and then, leaving the others 
 behind, proceeded alone to the Wabash villages. He 
 visited a camp of white hunters on the Patoki, and then 
 disappeared. The other Wyandots searched the forest 
 for leagues about the abandoned camp before they re- 
 turned North. They reported the hunters to have 
 been soldiers, and the medicine man a prisoner." 
 
 " On the Patoki; that is below Vincennes, and if they 
 were soldiers they would belong to that garrison. Yet 
 Captain Hambrouck makes no report?" 
 
 " Not a word, and he is a man to repeat every rumor." 
 
 I crossed the narrow room twice, endeavoring to 
 sum up the evidence clearly. 
 
 [47]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " A poor pretense for war, surely," I said at last, 
 " but might be sufficient to Indian mind." 
 
 " More than one war, even among civilized nations, 
 has been started on less," he answered soberly. 
 " Besides, it is my judgment all those devils want is an 
 excuse. They may have manufactured this out of whole 
 cloth ; to me it don't look reasonable. But you have all 
 the facts now, Hayward, and can understand what to 
 say and do. Those red devils know our weakness, and 
 are wild to break loose. If I send back a formal letter 
 by the hands of their messenger, denying any knowledge 
 of this medicine man of theirs, and expressing regret at 
 his disappearance, they will consider it a lie. I know 
 Indian nature ; they have got to be bluffed at their own 
 game. Show fear, and they are after you at once, the 
 whole pack in full cry ; face them boldly, and they hesi- 
 tate. If you go straight to them, through the woods to 
 their council fire, an officer of this garrison, in uniform, 
 they will interpret your coming as a sign that we are not 
 afraid of their threats. It will mean that to them. Tell 
 the chiefs straight out the truth, and let them under- 
 stand that if they want war, over such a trivial thing, 
 they will be accommodated. They have no fear of us as 
 soldiers, understand; the men who hold them in check 
 are the Kentucky * long rifles.' They know Brady and 
 his kind to their sorrow." 
 
 [48]
 
 A Perilous Venture 
 
 " Then I am to talk boldly; threaten, if iiccessary? " 
 
 " With discretion yes. It is our only chance to 
 avert war. The scheme may not work, but if it even 
 results in delay, it will be worth the effort." 
 
 "When do I start? " 
 
 " At dusk tonight. Come here first for final instruc- 
 tions, and a letter to Hamilton. You will go up the 
 Muskingum to the forks by boat, and then straight 
 through the woods. There must be no loitering on the 
 march." 
 
 " There will be none, sir ; and what about Girty ? " 
 
 " I will hold him on some pretext until morning. 
 Your party will have fifteen hours' start." 
 
 There seemed nothing more, and, after waiting a 
 moment in silence, I saluted. 
 
 " Very well, sir; that is all? " 
 
 " All at present." 
 
 I turned toward the door, then hesitated, as memory 
 suddenly returned. 
 
 " Pardon me, General," I said impulsively, " but I 
 met a young woman in the room yonder. Might I 
 inquire who she may be ? " 
 
 [49]
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE EVE OF DEPARTURE 
 
 T T E starod at me with open mouth ; then laughed. 
 
 The witch ! I never knew she was in there, 
 Hayward, or I should never have exposed you to such 
 danger. A French butterfly, with eyes like stars is 
 that the lady? And how did you get on? " 
 
 " Very well indeed, sir. We were talking together 
 gaily when you came." 
 
 " My Gad ; is that so ? Why the minx has hardly 
 given me a dozen civil words since she arrived. It 's 
 my gray hairs likely, and then, besides, she 's met my 
 wife. Said she anything about herself? " 
 
 " Only her name Rene D'Auvray." 
 
 " Huh ! that does not sound much like the one she 
 gave me, tho' by my soul, I 've forgotten it, 'twas just 
 as Frenchified, and I never dared to speak it aloud. 
 How came she to tell you ? " 
 
 " That 's the odd part of it, sir. She knew me, called 
 me * Monsieur Hayward,' and insisted I would remem- 
 ber her when she named herself. Then she did, but 
 it was no name I ever heard before, nor have I ever 
 seen the face; I 'd swear to that." 
 
 [51]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " And she is not the sort to be forgotten easily. If 
 they raise such flowers in the Illinois country, I would 
 like service there." 
 
 " She is from the Illinois then? " I interrupted 
 eagerly. 
 
 " So I judge, although it is little enough the witch 
 has told me in the three days she 's been here. That 
 was the story of the boatmen with whom she voyaged 
 on the river, although they picked her up at the Shaw- 
 nee towns. Is there a French village of Kaskaskia?" 
 
 " Ay, where Clark fought in '78 ; on the big river." 
 
 " That will be the place. The tale is, as repeated by 
 the soldiers who talked with the boatmen, that she seeks 
 her father, who left this Kaskaskia a year since with 
 Vigo, on a journey up the Ohio. She stops at each 
 settlement to inquire, and the girl has money French 
 and English gold in plenty. Yet, if this be the truth, 
 there is small hunting done. Once only was she at the 
 village for an hour ; nor has she spoken yet of departure. 
 She puzzles me with her pert speech, and French talk, 
 for she pretends little understanding of English. But 
 that my wife likes her I should have sent the hussy on 
 her way before now." 
 
 " But she spoke English to me," I admitted. " Her 
 accent was foreign, yet she used the tongue." 
 
 " No doubt," dryly, " her pretense at not compre- 
 [52]
 
 The Eve of Departure 
 
 hending is all play. I thought as much. But for what 
 purpose I cannot conceive. I am decided the minx 
 shall go up the river, or down, as she may select, by the 
 first boat that lands here. I cannot help liking the lass, 
 with her laughter, and dainty airs, but she 's up to some 
 mischief, I '11 warrant, and St. Clair would send her 
 packing if he was here." 
 
 " But General," I asked, still lingering, " how came 
 she to know my name? " 
 
 " Perhaps you spoke it first in her hearing." 
 " Not I, sir ; we spoke of other matters." 
 " Then there is but one answer the witch overheard 
 our conversation. I spoke loud, not knowing she was 
 in the room, and her quick ears caught the sound. 'Tis 
 like her to make instant use of what she learned to 
 thus arouse your interest. She is full of such sly tricks. 
 No doubt that will be the explanation, and no mystery 
 to it only the device of a clever woman." 
 
 This seemed natural enough, although I confess, the 
 explanation failed fully to satisfy. Yet my reason 
 told me it was probably the truth, even while memory 
 gave picture to her uplifted face, and appealing eyes, 
 It was difficult to conceive of her in the character 
 depicted by Harmar. I had felt the earnestness of her 
 pleading, and then, bewitched by her girlish manner, 
 I saw her through the eyes of youth, unwilling to confess 
 
 [53]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 that I was deceived, or had misinterpreted her char- 
 acter. However, there remained nothing more to say, 
 nor to ask. I could enter upon no defense, no explana- 
 tion; I had no knowledge of her purpose, of why she 
 was at the fort, or why she had pretended recognition 
 of me only, in spite of all evidence, I believed in her, 
 retained faith that her real obj ect was a worthy one. 
 
 Harmar sat motionless, pondering over the map, 
 indifferent to my presence, his thought concentrated on 
 his responsibilities, our conversation already forgotten. 
 
 "That is all then, sir?" 
 
 He glanced up, surprised, and recalled by the sound 
 of my voice. 
 
 "Until just before dusk yes, Mr. Hay ward; the 
 quartermaster will arrange all details." 
 
 I passed out into the sunshine of the afternoon, 
 and crossed the deserted parade to my quarters. In 
 spite of the seriousness of this adventure upon which 
 I was entering my thought lingered with the French 
 girl. Not only her beauty and vivacity so different 
 from all others I had known but also the strangeness 
 of her presence, appealed to me strongly. Who could 
 she be? Why was she there? What caused her reti- 
 cence of speech? She might, indeed, be from the distant 
 Illinois country, for there was that in her dress which 
 spoke of wild life, of frontier training; yet to offset 
 
 [54]
 
 this her language was pure, with accent of education 
 apparent in every syllable. How softly musical her 
 voice was; how clear her laughter; how enchantingly 
 the dimples appeared in either cheek, and with what 
 eloquence the dark eyes conveyed their message. 
 " Rene D'Auvray," the name repeated on my lips, lin- 
 gered, and was whispered again. I wondered if it 
 really was her name, yet cast the doubt aside indig- 
 nantly. Somehow it seemed to belong to her, to typify 
 personality, to revive memory. " Rene D'Auvray " 
 would I ever see her again? Would God be good? I 
 glanced back at the high window; the sun glared on 
 it, reflecting the rays into my dazzled eyes. My heart 
 sank. I must depart at dusk, and long ere I could 
 hope to return, she would have disappeared into the 
 unknown wilderness. Harmar would know nothing 
 more than he did now; there would remain no trail I 
 could hope to follow ; I would never see her again. 
 
 For an instant I hesitated, rebelling at the duty 
 which took me away ; half inclined to ask the assignment 
 of another. Then pride, the soldier spirit, reasserted 
 itself, and I strode forward to my quarters, forcing 
 the thought of her out of my mind, angry at my momen- 
 tary weakness. What was such as she to me? A mere 
 waif of the woods, winning passage by virtue of a 
 pretty face, and sprightly tongue. Here today and 
 
 [55]
 
 The MM of the Forest 
 
 gone tomorrow, a forest foundling, unworthy the mem- 
 ory of an honest man. I would do my work, and forget, 
 and swore between my teeth at the resolve. 
 
 All this was years ago, long years, and yet I recall 
 still how I occupied those hours with preparation, 
 striving manfully to banish her from mind by ceaseless 
 labor. Little by little I grasped the seriousness of this 
 mission on which I was embarked. In a measure I was 
 frontier born and bred, and had ranged the woods since 
 I became strong enough to bear a gun. There were 
 few secrets of the wilderness I did not know, yet now 
 for the first time I was to penetrate those dark northern 
 forests, through untracked leagues, and front the red 
 savages at their council fire with a message of defiance. 
 The full extent of peril involved occurred to me sud- 
 denly, almost with a shock the raiding parties of 
 young warriors, scouring the woods, unrestrained in 
 their savagery, the uncertainty of our reception by 
 the Wyandots, the possibility that Hamilton might 
 not be there to protect from violence, the haunting 
 doubt whether our mission would save us from torture 
 and death at the hands of those red demons bent madly 
 on war! It was no pleasant picture painted on the 
 canvas of imagination, and the perspiration beaded my 
 temples, as frontier tales of Indian atrocity flashed to 
 memory. But mine was then the spirit of youth, of 
 
 [56]
 
 The Eve of Departure 
 
 daring; I had volunteered for this duty, and, under 
 God, would not fail. 
 
 I recall changing my clothes, putting on my rough 
 hunting suit, and packing my uniform in a bag. I 
 remember studying a French map, hung on the walls of 
 the barracks, giving rude outline of the country to be 
 traversed, and copying, as best I might, the water- 
 courses along the route, and marking off the estimated 
 distances from stream to stream. Then I sought out 
 Brady, finding him alone outside the stockade, lying on 
 the bluff summit, gazing out at the broad river below. 
 As I drew near he looked up at me, good humor in his 
 gray eyes, but making no effort to change his posture. 
 
 " Well, my young cockerel," he said carelessly, " they 
 tell me you and I are to be comrades on the long trail." 
 
 " Who told you ? General Harmar ? " 
 
 " No less ; maybe an hour ago. 'Tis not likely to 
 prove a pleasant task, as I understand the nature of 
 the message. What said the old man to you? " 
 
 He sat up as I repeated word by word our con- 
 versation, and I studied the appearance of the man 
 seriously for the first time. He was of the mountain 
 backwoods type, gray bearded, gaunt but strong, his 
 hands sinewy, his lean, tall figure muscular, and vigor- 
 ous ; of middle age, firm lips, sober eyes, intelligent face, 
 bronzed to the color of leather, and long hair, already 
 
 [57]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 tinged with gray. A lifetime of danger and solitude 
 had left indelible stamp upon him; I recognized him as 
 one who would speak but little, yet act instantly ; a man 
 of resource, daring; loving adventure, hating with 
 border intensity, yet perchance, as tender hearted as 
 a child. He listened intently until I finished, his eyes 
 on the dark woods bordering the settlement. 
 
 " About as I had it," he commented gravely, " only 
 a bit more of detail. No pleasant job, friend, but the 
 ' old man ' is right there is no other way to deal with 
 redskins. What was the name of that Wyandot medi- 
 cine man? " 
 
 " We-pa-tee-tah." 
 
 " 1 've heard the name before, but don't remember 
 where. I never met up against the Wyandots, save a 
 few at Vincennes ; their range is too far north. By any 
 chance do you know that country ? " 
 
 " Not beyond the forks. Here are some maps," and 
 I spread my rude drawings on the grass, " and some 
 notes on the lay of the land." 
 
 He studied these a moment, and then glanced up at 
 me with a quizzical smile. 
 
 " Never could make much outer map drawin'," he 
 acknowledged slowly. " Just looks like hen tracks ter 
 me, an' as to readin* I reckon ther want no schools 
 along Stump Crick wher I was raised. Howsomever 
 
 [58]
 
 The Eve of Departure 
 
 you need n't worry none about that, Master Hayward, 
 for I kin read the woods, an* natur' the best guide. 
 We '11 find Sandusky." 
 
 We talked together for some time, although I did 
 the most of it, for he was content to reply in mono- 
 syllables, his eyes on the river. As the sun sank, its 
 last rays turning the waters crimson, we went back into 
 the stockade, and ate heartily together in the barracks' 
 kitchen. Then, as dusk drew near, we separated, he 
 going silently down the bluff to the boat, while I re- 
 ported to General Harmar. 
 
 It was almost dark, with a clear, star-studded sky 
 overhead, when I came forth again, the letter to Ham- 
 ilton in my pocket, and the General's warning instruc- 
 tions fresh in mind. He shook hands with me at the 
 door, and I turned away cheerfully enough, rifle across 
 my shoulder, and the pack in my hand. I had caught 
 no further glimpse of the girl, nor had any reference 
 been made to her. In truth, for the moment, the mem- 
 ory of her presence had been banished from mind. I 
 had convinced myself of her unworthiness, of the small 
 chance of ever seeing her again, and concentrated my 
 thought on the adventure in hand. God knows, I 
 realized that it was serious enough to require every 
 attention. Harmar's final words of instruction had 
 brought this home anew, and I strode through the dark- 
 
 [59]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 ness toward the barred gate, oblivious to all else except 
 my duty. Then, all at once, she came to me, a slender 
 shadow stepping forth from the gloom of the stockade, 
 into the star gleam. I saw the face uplifted, white in 
 the silvery glow, and the dark uncovered hair. 
 
 " Monsieur Hayward," she said softly, " you will 
 speak to me ? "
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 I FACE A REQUEST 
 
 T CAME to a sudden halt, my heart throbbing wildly. 
 " Most certainly, Mademoiselle," I stammered in 
 surprise, " although I have little time to spare." 
 
 I could see her features clearly enough in that star- 
 shine, and somehow, as I looked, every dim suspicion 
 vanished. I could not gaze into those uplifted eyes 
 and think evil. Whatever might be the mystery sur- 
 rounding her she was no sport of the woods, no wilder- 
 ness plaything. Behind the girlish beauty of that face 
 dwelt strength and character something which re- 
 strained. Even then, as I dropped my bundle, and low- 
 ered my rifle, I could not touch her ; dared not venture 
 such familiarity. Some invisible power held her invio- 
 late, held me motionless, unnerved. 
 
 " I know," she returned ; waiting to be assured I 
 meant to say no more, " you voyage into the North 
 you, and the great hunter." 
 
 " You know that? How? " 
 
 She smiled, yet with eyes on mine in frank confi- 
 dence. 
 
 "Have I not ears, Monsieur?" she asked swiftly. 
 [61]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 61 Did you think me old and deaf when we met before ? 
 Perhaps the light was poor, and you saw ill ; if so look 
 at me again, now, Monsieur." 
 
 " You mean you overheard ? " and I stepped back, 
 tantalized by her witchery. 
 
 " How could I help ? It was but a word now and 
 then, but that Americain general he talk so loud, like 
 he speak to an army. I did not catch your voice, Mon- 
 sieur, not one word. Yet I knew well what eet was you 
 say : I know from my own heart, how eet beat ; an' from 
 your face, so strong, so like the face of a man. You 
 would go back to the North, back to my people." 
 
 " To your people ! " I echoed incredulously. " Good 
 God ! Are you Indian ? " 
 
 " Does Monsieur care what I am ? " she questioned 
 more gravely. " And does he not already know ? We 
 are alone here in the night," her eyes deserting mine to 
 sweep a swift glance about over the bare level of parade. 
 " Need there longer be deceit between us ? Why you 
 not trust me? " 
 
 " I do trust you," I returned impetuously, intoxi- 
 cated by her presence, by the pressure of her fingers 
 on my arm. " In spite of all that is strange I cannot 
 pretend otherwise. But I do not know you, as you 
 would pretend." 
 
 " Yet I know you, Monsieur." 
 [62]
 
 I Face a Request 
 
 " So it would seem ; at least you spoke my name as 
 if from memory." 
 
 " It was from memory ; yet you forget me ? My 
 name? My face also? I cannot think this so. Have 
 you so soon blotted out the Miami council at Three 
 Rivers, Monsieur Hayward? " 
 
 " I was not there," I answered stoutly. " It was 
 held with the English officers of Detroit." 
 
 She stared into my face, her dark eyes wide open. 
 Then she laughed softly. 
 
 " You think to fool me ! All right ; I laugh, an' I 
 pretend, but I never believe what you tell. Have I not 
 eyes to see your face? ears to hear your voice? 'Tis 
 not long ago, only six moons since then. Why all this 
 I not understand, maybe; why you English officer 
 today an* Americaine officer tomorrow. You not tell; 
 I not ask any more. We be friends just the same? 
 Ees that so?" 
 
 " With all my heart," I replied, relieved at the sud- 
 den change in her manner, and grasping the hand held 
 out. " But you are wrong in thinking I assume two 
 characters." 
 
 "Yes; well, did I not say I laugh an' pretend? 
 Voila! eet was to me nothing. Yet there is danger, 
 Monsieur, much danger. Indian never forgive, nevaire 
 forget. You go as hunter, as scout?" 
 
 [63]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " No, as an officer ; my uniform is in this bag." 
 
 "To the Miamis?" 
 
 I shook my head, wondering at her swift questioning. 
 
 " The Wyandots." 
 
 "Ah! that then is not so bad. The chiefs will not 
 know; they will believe. But 'tis most odd why you 
 will do all this this, what you call masquerade? " 
 
 " No more odd surely than your own, Mademoiselle." 
 
 " Why is eet you say that ? You ask the Generail 
 about me? " 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 " You care enough then ? you interest enough to ask 
 heem who I was? Where I come? You try learn all 
 about me? Ah, bien! an* what he say, Monsieur? " 
 
 " That you were from the Illinois country Kas- 
 kaskia seeking your father a voyageur with Vigo, 
 from town to town." 
 
 She laughed again, her hands making an eloquent 
 gesture. 
 
 " The poor man ! Eet was quite sad, Monsieur. I 
 know not I top eet so well. Non, non, eet not I who 
 told heem; eet was the voyageurs with whom I came. 
 I tell nothing. Eet was hard to tell nothin', Monsieur, 
 when he want to know so much; when he ask question, 
 an' roar in hees loud voice. But eet was fun, too; I 
 laugh, an* talk about ozzer things, an' he get so mad, 
 
 [64]
 
 ze Americain Gcnerail. He put me in ze guard-house, 
 only I was a girl." 
 
 I had to smile myself, reflecting the enjoyment of 
 the uplifted face, the picture arising before me of Har- 
 mar's discomfiture sparring with her quick wit. 
 
 " But, Mademoiselle ; if that was not the true story, 
 why should you not tell? " 
 
 She shook her head, the dark hair like a cloud. 
 
 " Why should I ? He would not believe that man. 
 I could not prove to heem what I say. So what ze use? " 
 
 "And you are not from Kaskaskia? Not seeking 
 your father? " 
 
 "Why you ask that? You still pretend you not 
 know, Monsieur Hay ward? " 
 
 Her persistence in claiming former acquaintance 
 angered me for the instant. It revived my old suspicion, 
 made me wonder, and caused me to answer roughly. 
 
 " Let us drop that," I said sternly. " I never saw 
 you until three hours ago, but you surely have some 
 object in stopping me here. Tell me what it is, and 
 have done with the play. I am not a child to be amused 
 with fairy tales, and there are others waiting me." 
 
 " You are angry ? " 
 
 " No," hesitating, sorry already at my rude speech, 
 as I looked down into her eyes. " But I am a soldier 
 on duty; under orders to the North." 
 
 [65]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " To my people." 
 
 " So you said before. What does it mean? You are 
 not Indian ? " 
 
 I was conscious I asked the question with a choking 
 throat, a vague dread of her answer. There was no 
 apparent reason why I should care, and yet, deep in my 
 heart, I did. It seemed to me she waited long, the 
 silence oppressive, before her lips answered. 
 
 "And if I am, Monsieur? Will you not be my 
 friend?" 
 
 My heart sank, yet I managed to smile. 
 
 " I would serve you, of course, in every way possible. 
 That would make no difference." 
 
 " Oh, yes it would ; your face told that. To you 
 Indian blood is a disgrace, a symbol of savagery." 
 
 " I have the prejudice of a borderer," I acknowl- 
 edged, " and prefer my own people." 
 
 She looked at me steadily, her breath coming swiftly. 
 
 " So do I, Monsieur," defiantly. " And I am not of 
 your people." Her head went up proudly. " I am 
 French and Indian. You must take me as I am, or not 
 at all. I will not lie to you, and, whatever my blood 
 may be, I am a woman." 
 
 " Your father was French ? " I stammered, shamed 
 by her words. " You bear his name D'Auvray ? " 
 
 ** I am of quarter blood ; my father was officer of 
 [63}
 
 I Face a Request 
 
 France who died in battle. I was born in an Indian 
 tepee." 
 
 " But not brought up an Indian ? You possess edu- 
 cation ; you have known civilized life." 
 
 " I have been at Montreal and Quebec, Monsieur. I 
 was three years at the convent of the Ursulines." 
 
 " But came back into the wilderness ? " 
 
 " I returned to my own people ; the great woods 
 called me." 
 
 I could scarcely realize it, looking into her face, 
 listening to the soft tones of her voice. Indian ! my 
 whole conception of the race had been associated with 
 cruelty, ruthless barbarity. Hatred for the red ma- 
 rauders of the border had been instilled into me almost 
 from infancy. The wild stories of the frontier, as well 
 as my own experience, had only served to fan the fires. 
 They were to me enemies to be fought and destroyed. 
 Yet here before me stood a slender girl, with eyes shin- 
 ing in the star-light ; with gentle voice ; pleasing even 
 in its defiance, bearing herself proudly, her face fair 
 to look upon, her language that of refinement and 
 an Indian ! I did not doubt, or question ; I realized she 
 would never have told me this had it been untrue. But 
 the suddenly acquired knowledge of this barrier of 
 race between us held me speechless. 
 
 "You do not like me now? " she questioned, almost 
 [67]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 timidly. " What I have confessed has changed your 
 interest? " 
 
 " No, it is not that," I replied, ashamed of my own 
 hesitancy. " Only it is difficult to break away from 
 old prejudices, and and why, I cannot realize even 
 yet that you are actually of Indian blood ; that that 
 you belong to the wild tribes, those that we war against. 
 You do, do you not? " 
 
 " I am a Wyandot." 
 
 "And here at Fort Harmar, under a false name, 
 pretending to be from the French settlements ? " 
 
 She touched my hands, where they gripped the rifle 
 barrel, and her whole manner changed. 
 
 " I am not here under a false name, Monsieur, nor for 
 any purpose of evil," she exclaimed eagerly. " You 
 must not think that of me ; I will not permit. ? T is 
 my name, Rene D'Auvray, and I came to this fort from 
 the French settlements. I cannot tell you why, but 
 there is no harm done. All I seek now is the oppor- 
 tunity to return to my own land. That is why I came 
 here to meet you ; why I waylaid you, and told you the 
 truth. I heard enough of what was said by the Amer- 
 icain generail to know that you were going north thro* 
 the forests to my country, to hold council with the 
 Wyandots. That is so, is eet not? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 [68]
 
 I Face a Request 
 
 "Then, Monsieur, take me with you! No, listen; 
 you must; you shall not refuse. I know the way, the 
 woods, and all their secrets. I can guide you, and 
 travel faster than your Kentucky hunter. Let me go, 
 Monsieur." 
 
 [69]
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 UP THE MUSKINGUM 
 
 T HESITATED just a moment, actually tempted by 
 this opportunity to have her with me, to learn 
 more of who and what she really was. Yet the knowl- 
 edge that Harmar would never approve of such an ar- 
 rangement, and that he would surely learn of the matter 
 if I smuggled her into the boat, decided me. She read 
 the decision in my face. 
 
 " You will not ? You will leave me behind ? " 
 
 " I have no choice," I answered gently. " You for- 
 get ; I am a soldier under orders. To take you with me 
 might peril the whole venture." 
 
 " Peril it ! No ; it would save it. It is for your saKe 
 as much as my own I would go. Have you forgotten 
 I am a Wyandot? " 
 
 " Nevertheless I cannot take you, Mademoiselle. 
 There are reasons in plenty, but I cannot stand here 
 and discuss them. You will let me pass now ? " 
 
 She drew back, but with eyes still on my face. She 
 must have read there that no pleading would change 
 me, for she only said regretfully: 
 
 " I have angered you? You do not trust me, because 
 I am Indian? " 
 
 [71]
 
 The Mead of the Forest 
 
 " I do trust you," I burst forth. " I hardly know 
 why, but I do. It is hard for me to say no, but I must. 
 I wish to remain your friend, Mademoiselle, to to 
 meet you again somewhere." 
 
 Her face, white in the star-shine, smiled. 
 
 " You shall, Monsieur," confidently, and she pointed 
 with one hand into the North, " yonder in the villages 
 of the Wyandots." 
 
 " You mean you will go there alone ? all those leagues 
 alone?" 
 
 " Perhaps ; there would be nothing to fear. I have 
 traveled as long a wilderness trail before. Yet I need 
 not go alone ; there is another here who must return to 
 Sandusky." 
 
 " Simon Girty ! Good God ! Would you dream of 
 companioning with that foul renegade? Do you know 
 what he is ? " 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur," quietly > " and he knows what I am. 
 He is not reckless enough to offer me insult; did he do 
 so he would be torn limb from limb. You do not know 
 my people, but Simon Girty does. I do not fear him, 
 yet I would rather go with you." 
 
 " I cannot consent ; it would cost me my commission 
 to take you. I must say good-by." 
 
 She held out her hand. 
 
 " Good-by, Monsieur." 
 
 [72]
 
 Up the Muskingum 
 
 I left her standing there, a slender, dark shadow in 
 the star-light, feeling yet the firm grip of her fingers, 
 and seeing yet in memory the upturned face. That 
 she really meant what she said so confidently I did not 
 truly believe. Her threat of traveling in company with 
 Girty, or even alone, was merely uttered in the vague 
 hope that it might influence me. She could not be in 
 earnest. In spite of her assertion I was not altogether 
 convinced that she was an Indian, a Wyandot. She 
 was so young, so girlish, so soft of voice and civilized 
 of speech, I could not associate her with savages, or 
 those dark, haunted woods. I even laughed grimly to 
 myself, as I went down the bluff, at the thought. She had 
 endeavored to deceive me, to win me over to some mad 
 scheme. Her earlier claim that she knew me had failed, 
 and so she had attempted another scheme of escape. 
 Her pretended acquaintance with Girty was doubtless 
 of the same character. But what could be the cause of 
 all these efforts to get safely away from Fort Harmar? 
 Who was the girl? Why had she come there? I 
 stopped, half way down and glanced back at the dim 
 outline of the log stockade, tempted to return, and com- 
 pel an answer. Yet that was the General's business, not 
 mine; I was out of it altogether. I had made my deci- 
 sion, and left her behind. 'T was not likely I should ever 
 see her again, and at that moment I was not sorry. De- 
 
 [73]
 
 The Moid of the Forest 
 
 spite a pretty face, and much else that appealed to me, 
 it would be best to forget. She had a double tongue, and 
 was unworthy to be remembered. I swore to myself, 
 and went on down the steep bluff, angered at my own 
 weakness. 
 
 The boat was in the dark shadows of the bank, a 
 sizable canoe, three Indians friendly Delawares 
 grasping the paddles and kneeling in the bottom, and 
 two men holding it steady against the current. One 
 of these, tall and straight, would be Brady, but the 
 other, a mere shadow in the dark, was unrecognizable. 
 
 " You go with us ? " I asked. 
 
 He straightened up, with the motion of a salute. 
 
 " Yah, der captain he says so, don't id? " the words 
 strongly Dutch. 
 
 " Oh, yes, my man ; you are the cook. Is there an 
 extra paddle in there, boys ? " 
 
 An Indian voice grunted a response, holding it up. 
 
 " All right ; take it, and get in. What is your 
 name ? " 
 
 " Johann Schultz." 
 
 I remembered him, a private in Brown's company, as 
 poor a choice as could have been made for such an expe- 
 dition, but it was too late now for an exchange. 
 
 " In with you, Schultz," I ordered sharply, " behind 
 the last Indian, and bend your back; this is to be no 
 
 [74]
 
 Up the Muskingum 
 
 pleasure trip after wild flowers. All ready,] 
 Brady?" 
 
 He stepped into the bow of the craft, without an- 
 swering, and crouched down, his long rifle showing 
 above his shoulder. I pushed off, and found room at 
 the stern. There was a flash of paddles in the dark 
 water, and, almost noiselessly, we swept out into the 
 stream. My eyes glanced up the face of the bluff, to 
 where the shadow of the stockade appeared dimly out- 
 lined against the sky. Not a light was visible, not 
 a sound heard. Then we rounded the bend in the bank, 
 the water ahead shimmering in the star-gleam. The 
 paddles rose and fell in long quiet sweeps, the narrow 
 canoe leaping forward against the downward flow of 
 the stream. In response to a low spoken order, we 
 skirted the eastern shore, in the deeper shadow, barely 
 beyond the bushes upon the bank. There was little 
 to be seen of Marietta, only the shapeless smudge of a 
 few log houses beside the river, already dark, although 
 the night was young. Distant voices, and the wailing 
 sound of a violin, reached our ears, but the canoe slipped 
 by unseen. For the space of a mile, perhaps, we skirted 
 the clearing, the river a stream of silver under the stars, 
 the land on either side, disfigured by blackened tree 
 stumps, making a desolate picture. Then the canoe 
 slipped silently into the forest waterway, the dense 
 
 [75]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 woods on either bank obscuring the stars, and plunging 
 us into darkness. Brady bent over the sharp bow, his 
 eyes watchful for any obstacle, for any swirl of the 
 current, and I could faintly distinguish his voice in 
 low-spoken warning to the Indian paddlers. 
 
 From where I rested in the stern, my rifle between 
 my knees, I could perceive little except the broad back 
 of the Dutchman toiling manfully at the after-paddle. 
 I could watch the mechanical lift of his arms, the flash 
 of water following his strong stroke, his quick recovery 
 in unison with the others. The remainder of the boat 
 was but a blur, the banks on either side meaningless 
 shadows of thick foliage. A grim silence brooded over 
 all, not so much as a leaf rustling, the sharp stem of the 
 canoe barely rippling the water. Occasionally, sounding 
 clear in the still night, some prowling beast of the jungle 
 rustled its way through the underbrush, and once, 
 rounding a sharp turn in the bank, I saw two eyes, 
 like balls of fire, glaring at us from the depths of a 
 thicket. The loneliness, the darkness, the mechanical 
 movements of those stolid paddlers, sent my mind drift- 
 ing this way and that. 
 
 At first it was my task to be thought out, and planned 
 anew. The old French map was fresh in my memory, 
 and I could trace our progress across rivers and through 
 forests, calculating distances, and choosing sites upon 
 
 [76]
 
 Up the Muskingum 
 
 which to make camp. Then I reviewed again Harmar's 
 instructions, and words of warning, together with 
 Brady's suggestions, yet felt in no way alarmed as to 
 our success. The gloomy night, the grimness of the 
 black forest had effect on me no doubt, yet I was not 
 aware of any fear, any shrinking of the heart. My 
 mission was to a tribe still at peace, who only needed 
 to be assured that we were also friendly. The danger 
 did not lie with the Wyandots, but with those stray 
 raiding parties from other hostile tribes whom we might 
 encounter by chance along the way. The Wyandots! 
 the recurrence of that name brought back instantly a 
 recollection of the young girl just left behind at Fort 
 Harmar. I endeavored to cast the memory aside, to 
 think of other things, yet she would not leave me, re- 
 fused to be blotted out. At last I surrendered to her 
 presence, seeing again her face in the darkness, and 
 listening to the soft caress of her voice. I was not by 
 nature a dreamer, and had ever been slow to make new 
 friendships. Yet I could not drive from me a dull faith 
 that we were destined to meet again. I even hoped. 
 There was no lingering indifference in my heart; how- 
 ever I might condemn myself for a fool thus to hold 
 her in memory. I could not break away. I suspected 
 everything that she was a light-o'-love, an adven- 
 turess, one unworthy serious thought. She had de- 
 
 [77]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 ceived Harmar, and attempted to deceive me, to make 
 me her dupe. That she was really French and a daugh- 
 ter of the frontier, was beyond question, but I hesitated 
 to believe the rest that she was also Indian. There 
 was no testimony to this in either face or manner. 
 Someway I cast the possibility from me, as though it 
 were a thing accurst. I would not believe that, even if 
 she swore to it. I recalled the clear cheeks flushed with 
 health, the slender, agile form, the dark hair and eyes, 
 the soft voice with laughter rippling in it, and could 
 not connect her with wigwam and council fire. A squaw !: 
 a Wyandot! I laughed the thought away indignantly, 
 yet angry at the remembrance that she had actually tried 
 to make me believe so. And why? So I would take her 
 with me, of course. Yet, if it were not true, what reason 
 could she have for desiring to go? To be sure the 
 French settlers of the Illinois country, and Vincennes 
 as well, were hand in glove with the savages. No doubt 
 she would feel safe there, perhaps had friends, for, it 
 was well known, there were Frenchmen in every tribe 
 squaw-men, scarcely less barbarian than the red-skins 
 among whom they lived. I had heard of such again and 
 again with war parties, heartless as the most ruthless 
 raiders, and occasionally leaders of the murderous, 
 thieving bands. It was hard to associate her with such 
 renegades, yet this explanation was far more likely 
 
 [78]
 
 Up the M us Icing um 
 
 than that she was herself of Indian blood. Indeed she 
 might know such in friendship have met them inno- 
 cently enough at Vincennes or Kaskaskia and yet not 
 be contaminated. They were simply her people, hunters 
 and traders, making their homes in Indian camps, but 
 otherwise respectable enough. And what more natural 
 than that she should seek them? No matter the reason 
 for her being at Fort Harmar; her one object now was 
 to get away, and it mattered little whether the escape 
 was made down the river, or through the woods. In 
 either direction were friends her own people. 
 
 Convinced this must be the explanation, this the real 
 key to her strange conduct, I lay there, staring at the 
 dark forest slipping silently past, and listened again 
 to every word she had spoken, recalled every expres- 
 sion of her eyes as they met mine. Slowly it dawned upon 
 my consciousness that she was more to me already than 
 any woman before had ever been. I felt a fierce longing 
 to turn back, to find her again, to force her to confess 
 the whole truth with her own lips. I had to struggle 
 with myself to remain silent. No ! my duty lay to the 
 northward; the lives of hundreds of innocent women 
 and children depended on my mission. Whether or 
 not the swing of events ever brought us together again, 
 now I must forget, and go on. Yet my feeling was not 
 wholly one of despair; something seemed to assure me 
 
 [79]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 that out of that wide sweep of wilderness we would find 
 each other again; that destiny never meant to keep us 
 apart. Her threat to go with Girty impressed me not 
 at all ; if I even recalled it, it was only to be as quickly 
 forgotten. I could not, would not, associate the two 
 together. But I meant to find her, for she could not 
 disappear utterly, and I repeated over and over again, 
 " Rene D'Auvray." 
 
 It was a boy's dream, perhaps, yet companioned 
 with me all through the long hours of the night. Only 
 as the gray dawn brightened the east, yielding form to 
 the forest shrouded banks, did I again arouse myself to 
 a realization of where we were, and the perils of our 
 journey. 
 
 [80]
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE INDIAN COUNTRY 
 
 rTIHE paddlcrs were still steadily at their task, the 
 Indians keeping their tireless stroke, but the 
 soldier plainly exhibiting evidence of fatigue. Brady 
 sat silent in the bow, his eyes on the water ahead. We 
 were hemmed in by wilderness, the narrow stream 
 bordered by great forest trees, with branches over- 
 hanging the current, and huge roots projecting from the 
 mossy banks. 
 
 There was little or no underbrush; indeed, as the 
 light grew stronger, the vista stretched far away be- 
 tween the gnarled trunks of oak and hickory to where 
 the land rose in low bluff. It was a sombre scene of 
 gray and green coloring, save that here and there were 
 clusters of wild flowers yielding a brighter hue of blue 
 and yellow to the dull background. The silence was 
 profound, the river noiseless, except as the waters oc- 
 casionally foamed over some obstacle in their path, or 
 murmured softly about the sharp prow of the canoe. 
 High up above the early morning air fluttered the 
 leaves, yet so gently that no sound of rustling reached 
 me. The woods themselves were desolate, apparently 
 
 [81]
 
 The Mead of the Forest 
 
 uninhabited, without even a fleeting wild animal to 
 break their loneliness. 
 
 I sat up, rubbing my cramped limbs, and stared about 
 down the forest aisles, impressed by the sombreness 
 of our surroundings, yet with every faculty aroused. 
 The Dutchman's languid movements, and the perspira- 
 tion streaming down his face, told of a hard night's 
 work. 
 
 " Put her into the bank there, boys, to the right," 
 I commanded. " Beyond the roots of that big oak. 
 We '11 breakfast, and then rest awhile." 
 
 This was accomplished with a sweep of the paddles, 
 and we stepped ashore, the Indians drawing the light 
 canoe well up into the mud, Brady stamping about to 
 restore circulation. Schultz collapsed in his seat, and 
 I stopped to shake him. 
 
 " Tired, man? Move about and you '11 feel better." 
 
 " Mein Gott," he moaned, rolling his eyes up at me 
 imploringly. " I vos mos' ded mit der tire-ness. Mein 
 feet von't move altready." 
 
 " Oh, yes they will come on, now. I thought you 
 were a paddler, Schultz," and I helped him to stand, 
 gripping one arm tightly. " Look at the Indians ; they 
 are seeking firewood already." 
 
 " Yah, maybe they do dot, but mine legs was all 
 cramped mit de boat. It could not be." 
 
 [82]
 
 The Indian Country 
 
 That the man's limbs were cramped, and useless, 
 was evident by his effort to step forward, while the ex- 
 pression on his round, honest face implored mercy. 
 The fellow had performed a hard night's work, and his 
 plight appealed to my sympathy. 
 
 "That wiU be all right, Schultz," I said kindly. 
 " I '11 help you ashore, and you can rest awhile, until 
 you feel better. I '11 do the cooking this morning." 
 
 His eyes followed my movements like those of a grate- 
 ful dog. That was a day of iron discipline in the army, 
 not only as a legacy of the great war just closed, but 
 because of the worthless nature of the recruits dis- 
 patched to the frontier. It was probable the man had 
 never before received a word of consideration from an 
 officer, and now could scarcely credit his own ears. No 
 doubt he had rather expected to be roundly cursed, and 
 driven to his work, regardless of the pain he was suf- 
 fering. I could read his surprise in the puzzled expres- 
 sion of his face, as he clung to a tree, kicking his feet 
 against the roots to restore circulation to the benumbed 
 limbs. His odd appearance, now that I observed him 
 more closely by daylight, amused me. He was short, 
 and broad, not fat, for he seemed all muscle, but built 
 with a peculiar squareness, more like a stunted pillar 
 than the ordinary form of a man. He was straight up 
 and down, with short, thick neck, supporting a round 
 
 [83]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 red face, his light hair cropped short, and standing 
 out like so many bristles, his blue eyes small and wide 
 apart, with broad nose, decidedly pug, and ears that 
 stood straight out from his head. It was a stolid, yet 
 pugnacious countenance, exhibiting some sense of humor, 
 yet securely veiling any suspicion of intelligence in its 
 possessor. The man impressed me as almost a fool, 
 and I wondered why he had been selected for such a 
 journey. 
 
 " I remember seeing you before, Schultz," I said, 
 stirring the fire into blaze. " Brown's company ? " 
 
 " I vas mit Captain Brown," he rumbled, with big 
 mouth endeavoring to smile. " I vork mit the kitchen.'* 
 
 " Oh, I see, detailed as cook. You are not a recruit 
 then?" 
 
 *' It was for five year I serve mit der army ever 
 since I come to dis countries. I enlist maybe der second 
 day I land, for I vos soldier before dot." 
 
 " You mean you had served in Holland? " 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 " Dot vos so," solemnly, his eyes expressionless. " I 
 like dot soldiering, but not vot de kind you do here. 
 Maybe you let me do dot now? I vos all right, 
 altreaty," and he moved forward stiffly, but determined. 
 
 " See, I show you how it vos done quick." 
 
 I resigned my position without regret, stretching 
 [84]
 
 The Indian Country 
 
 myself full length on the bank to watch him puttering 
 over the fire. Brady joined me, silent and speechless, 
 sitting with back against a tree; his long rifle between 
 his knees. Across from us, nearer the canoe, squatted 
 the three Indians, waiting patiently. The Dutchman 
 whistled tunelessly as he worked, but there was no other 
 sound, the great woods closing us in on all sides, the 
 thin spiral of blue smoke disappearing in the branches 
 overhead. We were still too close to the settlements 
 to be in very much danger, and felt little necessity for 
 guarding our presence. White hunters penetrated as 
 far north as the forks, and any raiding parties of hos- 
 tile Indians would have been reported. Brady shook 
 his head when I mentioned the possibility, smoking 
 calmly. 
 
 " There ain't no red-skins down in yer," he returned 
 confidently. " Or some o* the boys along the river 
 would o' let me know. We 're liable ter see plenty after 
 a while, I reckon; but they don't range this fur south 
 lately, less they 're on the war-trail. It J s too nigh the 
 settlements." 
 
 " How far have we come ? " 
 
 He spoke to the Delawares, and one of them replied 
 in his own language. 
 
 " He reckons 'bout fifty miles, though it would be 
 less than that straight across country. It takes maybe 
 
 [85]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 two days an' a night ter make the forks with good 
 paddling." 
 
 The disinclination of the backwoodsman to converse 
 was plainly evident, and I realized that the less question- 
 ing I indulged in the better he would serve. The greater 
 portion of his life had been passed alone in the soli- 
 tudes, and those years had left him chary of speech. 
 So we ate our breakfast almost in silence, and then lay 
 down on the ground for a few hours' rest. As none 
 of the toil of our progress up stream had thus far fallen 
 upon me I remained on guard over the tired sleepers, 
 cleaning away the debris of the meal, and packing the 
 cooking utensils back in the canoe. Nothing occurred 
 to disturb us, the wood aisles leading in every direction 
 becoming more clearly revealed as the sun mounted 
 higher into the sky above the trees. The men slept 
 soundly, although I noticed how any movement, even 
 the slight rustle of leaves in a sudden puff of wind, 
 served to rouse Brady or the Indians to instant con- 
 sciousness. They possessed the instinct of wild animals, 
 ever alert to danger. But the stolid Dutchman never 
 once stirred from where he lay curled up into a ball, 
 his round face hidden on his arm. It must have been 
 fully noon when I aroused them, and we again headed 
 the canoe up stream, Brady willingly taking the sol- 
 dier's place at the after paddle, while I lay back in the 
 
 [86]
 
 The Indian Country 
 
 stern, my coat serving for a pillow, and finally fell 
 asleep. 
 
 The river narrowed rapidly as we advanced north- 
 ward, until the great trees on either bank nearly ob- 
 scured the sun overhead. Obstructions made night 
 travel slow and dangerous. Once we passed a party of 
 hunters headed for the Ohio, their canoes piled high 
 with pelts. There were three of them, all strangers, 
 silent, suspicious men, who answered our questions 
 rather grudgingly until one among them recognized 
 Brady, and became somewhat communicative. They 
 had been above the forks, but had seen no Indians, 
 although they had come across " sign " sufficient at 
 least to convince them that raiding parties were in the 
 neighborhood. For the past week they had depended 
 on traps for game, rather than risk the firing of rifles, 
 hiding their night camps, and now were glad enough to 
 get safely away. They left us at sunset, disappearing 
 swiftly around a sharp bend of the river, and we de- 
 cided to push on through the dark night, spelling each 
 other at the paddles. While such progress might be 
 slow, yet every mile thus gained was an advantage, arid 
 Brady expressed an anxiety to reach the Wyandot 
 council before there was any possibility of Girty's re- 
 turn. Besides, the Delawares were already exhibiting 
 a disinclination to proceed, and we were compelled to 
 
 [87]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 hold them by threats to their work. Each mile of ad- 
 vance northward added to their terror, and made our 
 task more difficult. Once Brady struck the chief, driv- 
 ing him back to his place in the canoe. This was when 
 we discovered unmistakable signs that a party of Miamis 
 had crossed the river only shortly before we passed 
 the spot. 
 
 However, we ran the gauntlet safely, a mere silent 
 shadow slipping along in the dark shade of the protect- 
 ing bank, and thus finally attained the forks, and landed 
 on the west shore. It was dark when we got there, but 
 the Delawares were so eager to return, that we imme- 
 diately put ashore all we intended to pack with us, and 
 parted with them gladly. The canoe shot swiftly away 
 into the gloom, leaving the three of us alone. Bearing 
 our loads with us, we groped a blind way through the 
 forest, back toward the foot of the bluff, where we made 
 camp, as best we might, at the mouth of a ravine, well 
 sheltered by underbrush, and lay down, without ven- 
 turing to light a fire. For some time, scarcely a mem- 
 ory of Rene D'Auvray had remained with me, my mind 
 being fully occupied with the increasing peril of our 
 position; yet as I lay there in the silence, looking up 
 at the stars, her eyes seemed suddenly to smile again 
 into mine, and I dreamed of her as I slept. The dawn 
 found us safe, seemingly alone in the wilderness, 
 
 L88]
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE TRAIL OF A WAR PARTY 
 
 "TJEFORE the sun's rays touched the summit of the 
 ^~^ bluff we were climbing the sides of the ravine, with 
 light packs on our shoulders. Brady led the way, tire- 
 less and watchful, his long rifle held ready in the crook 
 of his arm, his alert eyes searching out the ground 
 ahead. Behind him lumbered Schultz, heavy-footed, 
 and grumbling Dutch oaths at every misstep, yet some- 
 how managing to keep up ; while I brought up the rear, 
 my gaze intent on the surrounding ridges. There was 
 no traiL Yet we kept our course to the northwest, as 
 directly as the nature of the ground would permit, 
 and pressed forward hour after hour without the ex- 
 change of a word. The forest growth thickened per- 
 ceptibly beyond the crest, but the underbrush largely 
 disappeared, and our progress was rapid. Brady sel- 
 dom hesitated, but the Dutchman was a slow walker, 
 not from any lack of strength, but from sheer awkward- 
 ness, and I was frequently obliged to order the guide to 
 less exertion. He looked about at the figure behind, a 
 quizzical smile in his gray eyes, but took slower pace 
 without answering. Indeed I have no recollection of kis 
 
 [89]
 
 The Moid of the Forest 
 
 speaking once during the entire course of the day, not 
 even while sitting, pipe in mouth, watching the breath- 
 less Schultz prepare food. It was at this occupation 
 that the latter demonstrated his real worth, his cooking, 
 to my notion, making full amends for any lack of march- 
 ing ability. However, in spite of the hard traveling, 
 and the required rest, we must have covered twenty 
 miles that first day, meeting with no adventures worthy 
 of record, and noting no signs of Indian prowlers. We 
 camped that night on a small island of the Mohican, as 
 near as I could determine from my rough map. 
 
 The three following days were largely a repetition 
 of the first, but the Dutchman seemed to travel some- 
 what better as he grew accustomed to the woods, and 
 the nature of the country exhibited some slight change. 
 The forest growth was all about, yielding only narrow 
 vistas even from the hill summits. We merely looked 
 forth over leagues of tree tops stretching to the horizon, 
 and pressed forward through dark, gloomy aisles, into 
 which the light of the sun seldom penetrated. Yet that 
 third day of travel brought us occasionally into little 
 openings, green with grass, and flower strewn, restful 
 and inviting after long hours of grim forest shadow. 
 Once we skirted the shore of a lake, the overhanging 
 trees reflected in the margin of blue water. We saw 
 much of wild game, but shot little, fearful that we were 
 
 [90]
 
 The Trdl of a War Party 
 
 not alone in the wilderness. At night we rested far 
 back from the embers of the camp-fire, snugly hidden 
 away in some covert. Lying there in silence, staring 
 about in the black night, listening to the mysterious 
 noises of the forest the rustling of leaves high above* 
 the crackle of a twig under the paw of some prowling 
 creature I grew to realize more definitely our loneli- 
 ness, and the terror of our mission. We were but 
 three men, already plunged deep into the very heart 
 of the hostile country, helpless, except for the few 
 weapons in our hands. To be sure there was as yet no 
 open declaration of war, perhaps would not be, yet this 
 in no way lessened our immediate peril; for irresponsi- 
 ble bands of young warriors, drawn indiscriminately 
 from a dozen tribes, eager for distinction, crazed with 
 blood-lust, roamed across this neutral ground, making 
 swift forays on exposed settlers, or attacking stray 
 hunting parties of whites. Scarcely a week passed but 
 stories of such outrages reached the Ohio, curdling 
 the blood, and causing many an oath of vengeance. Nor 
 was the fault altogether with the red-men. Scarcely less 
 savage indeed were the irresponsible white rangers of 
 those dark woods, Indian haters, rough borderers, with 
 whom fighting was a trade. In truth, murder and out- 
 rage lurked everywhere in spite of a pretense at peace, 
 and every league of forest might hide a lurking enemy. 
 
 [91]
 
 The Mead of the Forest 
 
 Yet for three days we encountered nothing to alarm. 
 Brady purposely kept away from all trails, trusting 
 implicitly to his instinct as a woodsman to discover a 
 safe passage. Twice we crossed faint traces leading 
 north and south, but he paused only long enough to 
 determine the length of time since the last party had 
 probably passed, and then plunged aside again into the 
 untrodden wilderness. Even as he pushed rapidly for- 
 ward, his keen, searching eyes seemed to read every 
 faint sign ; not a broken twig, or disturbed grass blade 
 escaping scrutiny. The woods were to him an open 
 book, to be hastily scanned, and ever after remembered. 
 I believe he could have followed our trail backward, 
 step by step, recalling in sequence each hillock, or dis- 
 torted tree. Every sound, every occurrence of nature 
 had its meaning the flapping of bird wings above, the 
 moss on the tree trunks, the skurrying of hares among 
 the underbrush, the murmur of distant water and all 
 brought some message to his alert ears, and served as 
 guidance. Not till then did I know what woodcraft 
 really meant, nor how keen became the sense of those 
 silent men whose lives were passed alone in the wilder- 
 ness. I observed his skill with increasing amazement 
 his certainty of direction, his swift decision, an unerring 
 instinct. At night I questioned him, and his brief an- 
 swers only served to convince me what little things 
 
 [92]
 
 The Trail of a War Party 
 
 served his purpose things that more civilized men 
 would pass by unnoted, jet which to his mind, trained 
 by years of woodcraft, meant everything. He possessed 
 the instincts of the wild, the subtlety of the savage, born 
 of constant peril and loneliness. 
 
 One night, when we camped in the thick mazes of 
 oak trees, he told me bits of his life, chary of speech as 
 ever, and merely giving glimpses here and there, in 
 short drawling sentences, in response to my questioning. 
 I had to piece these together as best I could; yet, by 
 persistent interrogation drew forth enough to make me 
 better understand. Born in the Blue Ridge, of pioneer 
 parents, who were killed in a raid of Shawnees 
 when he was twelve years old, he was held in the Indian 
 villages until he was sixteen, and then recaptured by 
 a party of Kentucky riflemen. From then on he had 
 lived the life of a border hunter, in constant movement 
 and danger ; had taught himself to read and write ; had 
 been with Clark to the Illinois; and passed months at 
 a time among the tribes, or alone in the wilderness. 
 Three times he had run the gauntlet, and once had 
 been tied to the stake, only to be saved by a French 
 renegade whom he had befriended in Vincennes. All 
 this, of personal interest, I had fairly to drag from 
 him, but he spoke more freely of the famous border 
 men he had met and associated with of Boone and 
 
 [931
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 Kenton, McCray and Clark ; of Sevier, beside whom 
 he had borne rifle at King's mountain, and Zane. His 
 mind was well stored with tales of these men, their 
 exploits and adventures, and he told them with a simple 
 gayety which gave them new zest. Sitting there, with 
 the firelight on his face, and revealing his long iron- 
 gray hair and beard, calmly telling of adventures which 
 made me shudder, he seemed like a man from another 
 world. And I remained there on guard, watching while 
 he slept, reviewing again what he had just told me so 
 simply, with every nerve throbbing, and my eyes peer- 
 ing about into the dark woods, terrorized by every 
 sound that disturbed the silence of the night. 
 
 Once, where we forded a considerable stream, which 
 I think now must have been the Vermilion, we came 
 upon the blackened remains of a camp-fire, apparently 
 deserted but a few hours before. Brady examined it 
 with great care, trailing the party to the river bank, 
 and then making a wide circuit of the woods, before 
 he finally returned satisfied. 
 
 " Less than three hours gone," he said soberly, " and 
 traveling north." 
 
 " Do you know who they were ? " I asked. " How 
 many were in the party? " 
 
 " Miamis and Ojibwas, I reckon, and they had a 
 prisoner, bound to that small tree out yonder; see here, 
 
 [94]
 
 The Trail of a War Party 
 
 Hayward, the fellow had boots on, and not moccasins. 
 From the trail they made here on the bank there must 
 have been twelve or fifteen Indians; ay, and a white 
 renegade," he bent down again to study a track in the 
 mud, " for this is no red-skin's foot, with the toes turned 
 out." He swore, the only oath I had heard thus far 
 from his lips, plucking a few long hairs from off a 
 spittle of underbrush, and holding them up into the 
 sunlight. " A war party all right, with scalps. One 
 fellow brushed against this bush as he came down the 
 bank; from the color they must have been raiding the 
 German settlements." 
 
 I stared at the floating hairs, shuddering in horror, 
 and hands gripped hard on my rifle. 
 
 " Good God! and they are going our way? " 
 
 " That need n't trouble us, while they leave a plain 
 trail behind. Those devils feel safe enough now, or 
 they 'd take more care. We are in no danger while they 
 keep ahead of us." 
 
 We followed their trail for several miles, Brady scan- 
 ning each foot of the way, and picking up scraps of in- 
 formation from little things that I failed to even notice 
 until he pointed them out a feather here, a print of 
 a heel in soft dirt, a bit of cloth flapping from a low 
 branch, a scrap of paper with German print, a broken 
 arrow, which he instantly said was of Ojibwa make. 
 
 [95]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " They are a long ways from home, those fellows," 
 he commented soberly, turning the tuft over in his 
 hand. " Never knew they got down so far as this. 
 Young bucks likely." 
 
 He chuckled, pointing to the arrangement of feathers 
 and a peculiar notch in the shaft. 
 
 " Every tribe has its own form of arrow making," 
 he explained gravely. " I saw some Ojibwas at De- 
 troit onct, 'bout three yeajs ago; it allers pays in the 
 woods to notice these things, for they likely come in 
 handy. Now I did n't much expect to ever meet the 
 Injuns of that tribe agin, for their huntin' grounds are 
 'way up north, yet here I am followin' the trail of a 
 bunch. However, we '11 take a side track, an' see if 
 we can't reach Sandusky point ahead o* these mur- 
 derers. They 've got prisoners, an' are travelin' slow." 
 
 We made a detour to the right, plunging straight 
 forward into the unbroken woods. Brady led at a fast 
 gait, his trained iron muscles tireless, while I urged the 
 breathless soldier to new exertions, frightening him by 
 constant reference to the raiders so close at hand. The 
 perspiration rolled down his face, yet he kept close at 
 Brady's heels, falling flat on the ground during our brief 
 halts, but determined not to be left behind. There 
 was certainly good stuff in the fellow, although he 
 swore stiffly, and had a tread like an elephant. Just 
 
 [96]
 
 The Trail of a War Party 
 
 before dark, the forest about us already in gloom, we 
 suddenly emerged from out the shadow of great trees, 
 and stood on the shore of a lake girded with woods. 
 It burst open upon us so unexpectedly the pressing 
 aside of low branches, then the dazzling gleam of water 
 that for the moment the three of us stood there irres- 
 olute, staring across the calm surface in speechless 
 surprise. It was not a large expanse, probably not 
 more than a mile or two in either length or width, yet 
 a fair body of water, effectually blocking our passage. 
 And it was beautiful, the wide surface scarcely rippled, 
 a silver shield held upward to the sky, across which 
 streamed the last rays of the sun, and all about the 
 dark frame of giant forest trees, their great branches 
 outlined in the clear water. Lonely, solemn, it lay be- 
 fore us like some picture rather than a reality, with no 
 semblance of life anywhere along its curving shore. 
 A few hundred feet from where we stood a small rocky 
 island, dense with trees, rose above the mirrored sur- 
 face. After one swift glance about the line of shore 
 Brady's eyes rested on this haven, as though question- 
 ing its feasibility as a night camp. There was a yellow 
 tinge to the intervening water, suggestive of shallow- 
 ness, and I spoke first. 
 
 " It will be dark in a few minutes more ; is n't that a 
 sand-ridge leading out yonder ? " 
 
 [97]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " It looks so to me," he replied quietly, " but the only 
 sure way to tell is to test the passage. In my judg- 
 ment we better get out there if we can, for there 's no 
 knowin' where those Injuns may be." 
 
 He led the way, and we followed in single file, our 
 packs and rifles held high overhead. The water deep- 
 ened until it reached Schultz's armpits, but there was 
 no perceptible current, and the sand underfoot was firm 
 as rock. Deep purple shadows seemed to shut us in, 
 as we clambered up the steep bank of the island, our 
 clothes dripping. Brady with outstretched hand helped 
 me to climb, clinging with his other to a sapling. Then 
 he pointed across the darkened surface toward the lower 
 end of the lake. In the distance there was the red glow 
 of a fire, barely visible. 
 
 [98]
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE LONELY CABIN 
 
 "\ \ 7E stood there in the tree shadows for some time, 
 staring at that far-off light, the evening settling 
 darker across the water, the stars beginning to peer 
 forth in the arch above. It was scarce more than a red 
 star itself, yet, even at that distance, the flame revealed 
 dimly the surrounding trees, while occasionally a dark 
 form would pass between us and the gleam, a mere out- 
 line, vanishing instantly. The thought of us all must 
 have been with the hapless white prisoner, for the Dutch- 
 man gripped my arm suddenly. 
 
 " Mein Gottl Maybe dey burn heem? Vot you tink? " 
 
 I glanced at Brady, standing straight and motion- 
 less, hands gripped on his rifle, his face stern, his eyes 
 on the distant flare. 
 
 " There is little danger of that now," he said slowly. 
 " They are after ransom, or they never would have 
 brought the man so far." 
 
 " Do you suppose we could help the poor devil ? " 
 I asked in sudden pity. 
 
 His gray eyes met mine boldly. 
 
 ** That is what I am goin* to find out, Hayward," he 
 [99]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 returned dryly, " when that fire sorter dies down, an' 
 they 're all asleep. 'Tain't likely they '11 keep watch, 
 fer they ain't no reason ter think there 's another white 
 man this side o' Harmar an' 'tain't my natur' ter let 
 Injuns alone. Then maybe that pore cuss is a friend 
 o' mine ; there a heap of 'em huntin' north o' the Ohio." 
 
 " But the risk, Brady," I protested. 
 
 " Thar ain't much, just fer me to sorter scout around, 
 an' find out who the pore cuss is. I reckon if it was me, 
 most any o' the boys would take the chance. Do n't 
 yer worry none : I '11 take keer o' myself." He looked 
 about, evidently dismissing the subject. " Now let 's 
 make camp, but we won't dare to light no fire. Come on, 
 Dutchy, let 's git back behind them trees : those red- 
 skins might prowl around a bit before they settle 
 down." 
 
 We carried our packs with us, moving silently be- 
 tween the tree trunks, darkness steadily increasing as 
 we advanced to the slightly higher ground inland. The 
 island was wider than I had supposed, and must have 
 contained fully five acres, densely wooded, with no sign 
 of a trail anywhere. Apparently we were the first ex- 
 plorers to penetrate its thickets. Suddenly we came to 
 the edge of a small opening, sloping down like a saucer, 
 grass covered and treeless, open to the sky, but with a 
 dark irregular something at its center. So shapeless 
 
 [100]
 
 The Lonely Cabin 
 
 was this black blotch that I took it at first to be a 
 clump of brush, but the scout gripped my arm. 
 
 " Hayward ! there 's a log house ! " he whispered, 
 pointing. " Do you see ? Keep the Dutchman back." 
 
 I dropped to my knees, and studied the dim outline, 
 which the night rendered so indistinct. Little by little 
 it assumed more definite shape a one-story log hut, 
 with an extension at the rear, and an outside chimney 
 forking up beside the roof. It was a gloomy looking 
 place, with no glimmer of light showing anywhere. 
 
 " What do you make of it? " asked Brady in a whis- 
 per, as tho' doubting his own eyes. 
 
 " It 's a house, all right," I answered. " Some French 
 hunter's shack." 
 
 He shook his head negatively. 
 
 " They do n't build like that. It beats me, but who- 
 ever built that house put it up to lire in. Howsomever 
 I do n't see no sign o' anybody thar now, an* I 'm a 
 goin' ter find out what the shebang looks like. Dutchy, 
 you stay yere, an' watch these things, while the two o' 
 us scouts 'round a bit." 
 
 He dropped his pack on the ground, and I flung mine 
 beside it, smiling at the readiness with which Schultz 
 found a resting place propped snugly between. 
 
 " No smoking now," I admonished sternly, staring 
 down at him, " and keep your eyes open." 
 
 [ 101 ] "
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " I yust have von pipe," he pleaded plaintively. " I 
 vos mos' ded mit not smokin'." 
 
 " Well, you '11 be entirely dead if you try it now," I 
 returned shortly. " There is to be no light, or noise, 
 until I say so you understand ? " 
 
 " Yah : eet vos vat you say ; I do eet." 
 
 Stooping low, so as not to be so easily perceived in 
 the darkness, the two of us, grasping our rifles in readi- 
 ness, stole across the open space toward the house. 
 There was no sign of life so far as could be seen or heard, 
 yet if the place was deserted it could not have been for 
 long, as there were no appearances of decay or abandon- 
 ment of the premises. The log walls were firm, the clay 
 between resisting the pressure of our fingers in an at- 
 tempt to dislodge it, and the only door noticed was 
 tightly closed. We hesitated to open this, uncertain 
 what mystery might await us within, and listening anx- 
 iously for any sound. The stillness was so profound 
 as to be painful, and, whispering to me to stand back, 
 with rifle poised Brady silently lifted the strong wooden 
 latch. The door slid back in grooves, the sound of 
 movement barely perceptible, and we stared into the 
 black interior, seeing nothing except a little section of 
 dirt floor, dimly revealed by the stars overhead. 
 
 " We '11 feel it out, boy," muttered the scout, his 
 hand gripping my arm. " Nobody at home, I reckon, 
 
 [102]
 
 The Lonely Cabin 
 
 but it won't do to risk a light. You take that side, an' 
 I '11 take this, an' see what we find." 
 
 Our soft moccasins on the hard dirt floor made no 
 noise as we groped our way cautiously forward. I held 
 to the right, following the log wall, impressed by the 
 discovery that the logs had been roughly squared, evi- 
 dently by an axe. No mere hunter's shack would have 
 been erected with such care: beyond question this iso- 
 lated house had been erected as a permanent home. But 
 by whom? But one answer appeared reasonable: only 
 some outcast, or recluse, seeking the loneliness of the 
 wilderness, would have chosen such a spot in which to 
 hide himself effectively from companionship. The In- 
 dian trail undoubtedly passed along the lower end of 
 the lake, where the distant fire flamed, and here in the 
 heart of this wooded island was absolute solitude. Years 
 might pass with no red or white foot pressing these 
 shores. Accident alone would reveal the presence of a 
 house in such a situation. 
 
 I moved forward slowly, foot by foot, feeling blindly 
 with one hand, the other grasping my rifle. I came to 
 a rude bench, home-made without nails, touched a small 
 table with crossed legs, holding nothing but an empty 
 pewter bowl, felt the shaggy skin of some animal fas- 
 tened against the log wall, and then a few articles of 
 warm clothing dangling from wooden pins. These were 
 
 [103]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 rough garments, made of skins, with a single coarse 
 shirt. Beyond them my fingers came in contact with 
 the latch of a door. As I touched this the menacing 
 growl of some animal broke the intense stillness. I 
 stepped back, startled, unnerved, and in my recoil, came 
 into contact with a man. A hand like iron gripped me, 
 but it was Brady's voice that spoke: 
 
 " From the other room," he said shortly, " a dog." 
 
 " A dog! then why has n't he barked? " 
 
 " Because he is not that kind, I reckon ; a big brute 
 from his growl. Did you find anything? " 
 
 I told him briefly. 
 
 " Fireplace on my side, two chairs and an axe in the 
 corner," he added shortly. " Nobody home but the dog, 
 I reckon, but we will have to fight it out with him, be- 
 fore we take possession. Stand where you are until I 
 feel out the door." 
 
 I waited scarcely breathing, seeing nothing, but lis- 
 tening to the big brute sniffing at the crack, occasionally 
 giving utterance to a deep growl as he caught fresh 
 scent of our presence. Once he leaped against the door, 
 clawing at the wood fiercely. He would need be a burly, 
 savage beast indeed from the disturbance he made. Then 
 Brady whispered: 
 
 "Leather hinges, and opens this way. Here, Hay- 
 ward, take hold of the latch ; we '11 have to brain the 
 
 [104]
 
 The Lonely Cabin 
 
 brute. Do n't open until I say so, and then only about 
 a foot. Brace yourself to hold it firm, and keep your 
 gun ready ; I 've got the axe." 
 
 I took my position, but with heart beating rapidly, 
 and waited. The dog, as though realizing danger, flung 
 himself with full force against the door, and gave one 
 deep bark of savage ferocity. Brady touched my hand, 
 locating the opening. Then there was an instant of 
 silence. 
 
 "Now!" he said. 
 
 I lifted the wooden latch, gripping with both hands, 
 my shoulders and foot braced. There was a fierce leap 
 of the brute, so sudden as to cause me to give back, the 
 thug of a descending axe, a howl of pain and rage, the 
 ugly snap of jaws. Coarse hair swept my hands: there 
 was another blow, the sound of a falling body: then 
 the helve of the axe struck my foot. Back and forth 
 on the dirt floor man and brute struggled, crashing 
 into the table, and overturning it. Brady uttered one 
 oath: then the dog snarled, and lay still, while I stood 
 with the axe poised, unable to tell which was which in 
 the darkness. Something moved, and I took a step for- 
 ward. 
 
 "Brady!" 
 
 " All right," he said breathlessly, " I I had to knife 
 the brute he was as big as a calf, and and 
 
 [105]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 he got my shoulder. Did you find a window on your 
 side?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " There was none on mine. We '11 have to risk a light, 
 I reckon, for I 'm bleedin' considerable. Try the fire- 
 place yonder." 
 
 I felt my way along the wall, discovered some tinder, 
 and, with flint and steel from my pocket, coaxed a blaze. 
 There were a few pieces of wood piled up on the hearth, 
 and a moment later, the curling red flames revealed the 
 entire interior. Brady rested against the bench, the 
 sleeve of his blouse ripped into shreds, blood dripping 
 from his fingers, and sinking into the earth floor. A few 
 feet away, a great mass of shaggy hair, lay the dog in 
 a heap, his lips still drawn back in a snarl, revealing the 
 cruel white teeth, the shaft of a knife protruding from 
 the throat. He was a massive animal, terrifying to 
 look upon even in death. Yet I barely glanced that 
 way, assured that he was dead, and all my interest cen- 
 tered on Brady, his face ghastly under the brown tan. 
 There was a water bucket half filled on a low bench, 
 and I tore down the shirt from the peg, and swabbed 
 out the wound. It was a jagged, ugly gash, the print 
 of each tooth revealed, and the man clinched his hands 
 in agony as I worked rapidly. The blood staunched 
 somewhat I bound it tightly with a silk neckerchief, and 
 
 [106]
 
 The Lonely Cabin 
 
 gave him a drink of brandy from my pocket flask. This 
 brought a little color back into the man's face, and he 
 found strength to sit up, resting against the bench, his 
 eyes on the dead dog. 
 
 " Mastiff," he said, " and the biggest devil I ever saw. 
 I hit him with the axe the first blow, but in the dark 
 failed to strike high enough, I reckon. What do you 
 suppose he was guardin' so savage? " 
 
 I shook my head, glancing about at the open door. 
 Brady's eyes followed mine. 
 
 " Get a light of some kind, Hayward, and take a 
 look," he said slowly, " and then have Dutchy bring in 
 the packs." 
 
 I did as he suggested, finding a bit of pitchy wood 
 that burned freely, and holding it out before me as I 
 peered curiously through the opening. A glance about 
 told me that the lean-to was used as a shed, for it was 
 half filled with split wood, opened boxes, and various 
 odds and ends. This knowledge came to me in a flash, 
 but the sight which riveted my eyes was the body of a 
 man lying directly beyond the doorway, face upward, 
 his skull cleft as if by the vicious blow of an axe. 
 
 [107]
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 CAPTAIN D'AUVRAY 
 
 T \ THAT is it? " asked Brady, startled by my sud- 
 den exclamation, and striving to get up. I 
 glanced back at him, 
 
 " A dead man ; stay where you are ; he is dead all 
 right. I '11 be back in a moment." 
 
 I stepped within, and held the torch down closer, the 
 ghastly yellow light falling full on the upturned face. 
 He was a man of seventy, or over, a sturdy looking fel- 
 low for his years, in the garments of a French courier 
 des bois; his features strong, refined, bearing even in 
 death a certain peculiar dignity, increased by a snow- 
 white beard. Apparently he had not been dead long, nor 
 was there slightest evidence of struggle : the hands were 
 empty, and, judging from the ugly gash in his head, he 
 had been struck from behind unexpectedly. It was a 
 ghastly wound, and the man had probably died in- 
 stantly. The blow must have been a treacherous one, 
 delivered by some person acquainted with the cabin: 
 otherwise the dog would have sprung to his master's 
 defense. Plainly this was murder, and the assassin had 
 taken his time: had closed the door, locked in the dog: 
 
 [109]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 had even washed off the blade of the axe, and left it 
 standing there against the wall. What could have been 
 the object? Was it revenge? robbery? I felt in the 
 pocket of the loose blouse, finding nothing, but my eye 
 caught the glimmer of a medal fastened to the front of 
 the shirt. I unpinned it, and held it up to the light of 
 the torch, studying out the French inscription, letter 
 by letter, half guessing at its meaning it was a medal 
 of honor, given for special gallantry in action at Fonte- 
 noy to Captain Raoel D'Auvray. 
 
 I stood staring at it, and then down into the face of 
 the dead man. D'Auvray : Her name ! The same name 
 she had given me ! The face of the girl came back in- 
 stantly to memory, distinct, living. There was a famil- 
 iarity, a resemblance, now that I thus connected the 
 two together. She had told me her father was a French 
 officer but dead, killed in action. Perhaps she thought 
 so; had been deceived into this belief. Yet I was con- 
 vinced now that this was the man : that he had been liv- 
 ing up to a few hours before, and had met his fate here 
 in the wilderness by a foul and treacherous blow. Her 
 father ! The knowledge seemed to shock me, to leave me 
 helpless : I could not divorce my mind from the remem- 
 brance of the daughter. Where would she be that night? 
 Safe at Harmar? or in the dark woods with Girty? Did 
 she know about this hidden cabin? this island rendez- 
 
 [110]
 
 Captain D'Auvray 
 
 vous? Surely this could be no mere coincident of name 
 and history, yet what was the mystery that enveloped 
 both? Why was this Captain D'Auvray hiding here? 
 and why did she deny that he was still living? The more 
 I thought, the more tangled grew the skein. Brady 
 called me, and I stepped back into the other room, still 
 dazed, grasping the medal in my hand. 
 
 " Well, what is it? " he asked gruffly. " What have 
 you found out? " 
 
 I told him briefly, describing the appearance of the 
 body, and handing him the medal. He turned it over in 
 the light of the torch. 
 
 " French, ain't it? What does it say? " 
 
 " An army decoration for gallant conduct given to 
 Captain Raoel D'Auvray, Fifth Cuirassiers." 
 
 " You think it belonged to him ? " 
 
 " Beyond doubt : it was pinned to his shirt the 
 one thing he treasured in his exile." 
 
 " D'Auvray," he repeated, as if the name had familiar 
 sound. " I 've heard of him before. Wait a bit : now 
 I have it he commanded Hamilton's Indians at Vin- 
 cennes when Clark took the town. I saw him once." 
 
 He got to his feet with my help, and braced himself 
 in the doorway, looking intently at the upturned face, 
 as I held the torch extended. 
 
 " That 's the man," he said soberly. " I remember 
 [111]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 the white beard: someone told me the Wyandots called 
 him the White Chief. And he was in the French army? 
 An officer? Poor devil! I wonder what happened to 
 drive him to this." 
 
 He stared about among the shadows at the miscel- 
 laneous articles littering the shed, his trained eyes not- 
 ing things I had overlooked in my excitement. 
 
 " He was murdered all right, lad," he commented 
 slowly, " and by a white man. This was not Injun work. 
 Here is the imprint of a boot heel : you can even see the 
 nails. That 's odd : I did n't suppose there was a boot 
 worn in this country except by British officers. What 
 is that red garment lying on the box? I thought so; 
 an English infantry jacket, made in London, and it 
 never belonged to D'Auvray." He held it up. " It was 
 a big fellow who wore this coat, about your size." 
 
 " An old garment thrown away." 
 
 " I '11 wager something it has been on a man's back 
 within twenty-four hours," he returned swiftly. " Here 
 is tobacco in this pocket, and a pipe. Hold your torch 
 closer: there is writing on this bit of torn envelope." 
 
 We endeavored to decipher it together, but without 
 much success. The words were English, written in a 
 plain hand enough, but conveyed no meaning. 
 
 " Some secret message in code," I said at last. " All 
 I can make out is the date." 
 
 [112]
 
 Captain D'Auvray 
 
 " Written ten days ago at Detroit. Well, we know 
 something then. It would take the fellow five days to 
 travel that distance, with good luck. He must have 
 come directly here to D'Auvray. He wore boots and a 
 uniform, and left in such a hurry he forgot his jacket. 
 He '11 be the man who did this job, and we '11 find other 
 signs when it gets daylight. I 've lost too much blood 
 to hunt around, now. So bring the Dutchman in." 
 
 I found Sckultz where we had left him, resting against 
 the packs, but wide awake. The long wait alone had 
 affected even his phlegmatic nerves, and he began to 
 protest, but I stopped his tongue sharply, and, between 
 us, we lugged the packs into the hut. Brady had found 
 a chair, but one glance into the Dutchman's vacant face, 
 as he stared about him, led to an explosion. 
 
 " Come on you lout, get busy," he growled. " Do n't 
 be standing there staring around pop-eyed, as if there 
 was nothing to do. I 'm hungry. Hayward, wake the 
 fool up with a kick." 
 
 I laughed, but ordered Schultz, who was far too sur- 
 prised to get angry, to drop the packs in one corner. 
 Then, with the torch still burning, I helped him lift 
 D'Auvray's body out of the way, and drag the dead 
 dog into the shed. As we did this I explained briefly 
 what had occurred, paying small heed to his guttural 
 exclamations, but anxious to get the job over with. 
 
 [113]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " Now get busy at the fire," I ordered. " There are 
 no windows, and nothing to fear. I '11 clean up this 
 litter." 
 
 As he worked, I went across to Brady, who sat with 
 head bowed on the table. 
 
 " Does your wound pain badly? " 
 
 " It bites a bit," but he lifted his face and smiled. 
 " I '11 be all right if Dutchy ever gets supper ready. I 
 was tryin' to argue this affair out, but it is sure some 
 mixed up mess. What 's a British soldier doin' down 
 here anyway, and why should he come with orders to 
 kill this Frenchman ? That 's what I reckon that writin* 
 meant, though maybe it didn't, an' they just naturally 
 got into a quarrel here alone. But it somehow do n't 
 look like a fair fight, to me, but deliberate murder. Then 
 this D'Auvray livin' here all by himself, looks almighty 
 queer. This yere house was built to stand, an' hidden 
 away on this island fer some purpose. It didn't just 
 happen. D'Auvray used to be with the Wyandots, so 
 they told me, but this ain't their country ; it do n't really 
 belong to no tribe, unless it 's the Miamis. Looks like 
 he 'd broke away, an' was playin' a lone hand." 
 
 I drew up the bench, and sat down. 
 
 " There is more to this than you have discovered, 
 Brady," I said, determined to explain. " Did you 
 chance to see a French girl back at Fort Harmar? " 
 
 [114]
 
 Captain D'Auvray 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 " Not as I remember ; who was she ? " 
 
 " That is what I would like to know. I hoped you 
 might have picked up some information. She was at 
 General Harmar's office a young girl, not much over 
 twenty, I should judge, with dark eyes and hair, speak- 
 ing broken English, her dress half Indian and half 
 border French. Anyone would call her a beauty, bright 
 and vivacious, but with an independence that made you 
 careful. She could take care of herself, and he would 
 be a bold man who risked an insult. She was one in a 
 thousand, to my thought. What name do you suppose 
 she gave me ? " 
 
 His eyes, interested, questioned me, but he sat silent. 
 
 " Rene D'Auvray ; and she explained her father was a 
 French officer, killed in battle." 
 
 "And her mother?" 
 
 " A woman of the Wyandots, but a half-breed." 
 
 " D'Auvray ! The same as the dead man yonder ! 
 And he was a soldier. 'T is an odd case. What else do 
 you know about her? " 
 
 " Precious little, indeed, for she seemed an adept in 
 deceit. She even pretended to know me, and actually 
 spoke my name before it had been told her. How she 
 ever learned it is more than I can guess. The little 
 minx is full of tricks, but plays them so saucily it was 
 
 [115]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 not in my heart to become angry. By heavens ! one 
 glance in her eyes would disarm any man " 
 
 " Yes," he interrupted, " but whence came she there? 
 and for what purpose?" 
 
 I told him all I knew, and he listened eagerly, his 
 eyes on Schultz puttering about the fire. 
 
 " Huh ! " he commented, " the lady told each one of 
 you a different tale." 
 
 " She did not seem to care," I explained. " It was 
 as if it were all play, all masquerade with her ; as if she 
 sought merely to complicate mystery. Only once did I 
 deem her truly in earnest; when she begged that I take 
 her with me on this journey." 
 
 " Yet she must have jested in her threat to travel 
 hither with the renegade." 
 
 " I fear it was not jest," I said soberly. " She was 
 in a mood to do even that, and I do not think she feared 
 the man. They may be on our trail now; ay! close at 
 hand, Brady, for they both know these woods better 
 than either of us. 'T is my thought, now, the dead man 
 yonder was the lass's father, and she would know his 
 cabin." 
 
 His eyes turned to the door, and then to the food 
 Schultz was placing on the table before us, but whatever 
 his thought it remained unuttered. As we sat there 
 eating, he was apparently turning it all over in his 
 
 [116]
 
 Captain D'Auvray 
 
 mind, trying to draw the tangled ends of the skein to- 
 gether. The Dutchman asked questions which I an- 
 swered briefly, enjoying the puzzled look on his round 
 face, and the struggle of his lips to find fit expression. 
 As we finished the meal, some newly awakened curiosity 
 caused me to glance out again into the rear room. It 
 was gloomy with shadows, the bodies of man and dog 
 beyond view; yet what I perceived brought from my 
 lips a sudden exclamation. 
 
 " Brady, someone has been in here! The outer door 
 is unlatched yes and the soldier's coat is gone ! " 
 
 [117]
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 I TAKE A PRISONER 
 
 \\ rE searched the room carefully, but discovered 
 no sign of its having been entered, except for the 
 door standing slightly ajar, and the disappearance of 
 the red coat. We dare not carry a torch into the open, 
 and the night was too dark for us to trace marks on the 
 ground. Brady stole out, and circled the small clearing 
 twice, but discovered nothing. He even made his way 
 through the fringe of trees as far as the shore, and as- 
 sured himself that the distant Indian camp fire was 
 still burning at the foot of the lake. He returned, 
 baffled, yet inspired with fresh determination to solve 
 the mystery into which we found ourselves plunged. 
 
 He stood in the glow of firelight, looking to the prim- 
 ing of his rifle, his face shadowed. 
 
 " I am going out awhile, Hayward," he said finally- 
 " Yes, I am all right now. I meant to take you along, 
 but, I reckon, it will be safer not to leave the Dutchman 
 here alone. However, I do n't think there will be any 
 more visitors tonight." 
 
 " You believe the murderer came back? " 
 
 " Who else could it be ? There was only one ob j ect 
 [119]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 in such a visit the recovery of the coat. The fellow 
 knew that would condemn him if ever discovered, and 
 so he took the risk of coming back to get it. He found 
 us here, and will never return, unless," he hesitated, as 
 he turned the thought over in his mind, " well, unless 
 he is connected with those Injuns out yonder, and brings 
 them along with him. That is what I am goin' to find 
 out." 
 
 " But that would be impossible, Brady," I inter- 
 posed. 
 
 " Why? " calmly. " They were some hours ahead of 
 us, and must have made camp long before dark. There 
 was time enough for the fellow to have come up here 
 and do the deed. The man was not dead long when we 
 discovered his body, and we have proof enough now 
 that the assassin had not gene far away. It 's my 
 thought he either belongs to that raiding party, or 
 else has gone to them for refuge. The British are hand 
 in glove with those devils, and they '11 protect a red 
 coat every time. Anyhow I mean to find out before 
 we 're trapped in this place, and, likely enough, charged 
 with the murder." 
 
 He slipped out the back way, disappearing instantly, 
 and I picked up my own rifle, bade Schultz remain where 
 he was, and followed, with the purpose of scouting 
 about the island. Brady's suspicion had left me un- 
 
 [120]
 
 I Take a Prisoner 
 
 easy ; I could perceive the new danger we were in. Sup- 
 pose the assassin, eager to save himself from suspicion, 
 should be attracted to that camp of raiders, and, relying 
 on their friendship for protection, charge us with the 
 murder of D'Auvray. What mercy could we hope for 
 at their hands? Beyond doubt the band was com- 
 posed of ambitious young warriors, who had already 
 tasted blood, and under control of no chief able to re- 
 strain them, if their wild passions should be appealed 
 to. The very fact that two different tribes were rep- 
 resented would offset any chief's authority, and it was 
 well known that both Ojibwa and Miami were in British 
 pay, the open enemies of our settlers. A single word 
 spoken to reveal our presence on the island would be 
 sufficient, and to such as these our papers would be 
 merely mockery. They could not read them, nor would 
 they care what they contained. My first impulse, as all 
 this flashed across my mind, was to hasten after Brady, 
 order him to return, and then depart from the spot 
 before it was too late. We could travel all night, con- 
 cealing our trail, and by dawn be well ahead of our 
 pursuers. 
 
 But I emerged into darkness and silence. Quickly 
 as I had made this decision I was too late. The scout 
 had already disappeared across the narrow open space, 
 and vanished into the fringe of trees. There was noth-
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 ing to guide me, except a vague sense of direction, yet 
 I felt my way forward through the dense tree growth, 
 hearing no sound of movement, and compelled to move 
 slowly until I emerged at the shore, and could perceive 
 the stars reflected on the surface of still water. Brady 
 must have moved more rapidly than I amid that tangle 
 of bushes, for I could discover no trace of him any- 
 where. In my eagerness I ventured to signal, whistling 
 a wild wood-bird's note I knew he would recognize, but 
 waited in vain for a response. The dark woods opposite 
 gave no sign, and, as I searched them with straining eyes, 
 I caught glimpse of the distant Indian fire, no longer 
 blazing, but merely a red glow showing dimly thro* 
 the night. 
 
 It was a dismal, lonely spot, the stretch of water 
 looking ghastly in the star-shine, the upper limbs of 
 the great trees overhead sighing in the wind, and all 
 about black, silent gloom. An ill-defined sense of danger 
 was in my heart, of unknown peril lurking close at 
 hand. The black thickets were full of terror and mys- 
 tery. There arose before me the dead face of D'Auvray, 
 the skulking figure of his cowardly murderer. Perhaps 
 the latter was still hiding on the island, crouching in 
 some dark covert, waiting another victim; perhaps he 
 had even waylaid Brady with sudden knife thrust ; or, if 
 he had departed, he might be by now in that encamp-
 
 I Take a Prisoner 
 
 ment yonder, telling his lying story to the easily aroused 
 warriors, and exciting them to revenge. The glare of 
 that far-off fire told nothing; I could perceive no mov- 
 ing figures, no sign of any presence. Somewhere along 
 shore an owl hooted dismally, a mournful sound pierc- 
 ing the silence so regularly, as to make me suspect it a 
 savage signal. Yet what could I do? To remain there 
 was positively useless, and, with heart thumping, and 
 nerves throbbing, I crept slowly back under the forest 
 shadows to the edge of the clearing. 
 
 From there I could barely distinguish the outlines 
 of the log house blotted by the dark woods beyond. 
 Not a glimmer of light appeared between the closely 
 set logs, and, only as I watched closely, could I make 
 out the slight spiral of vapory smoke rising lazily above 
 the chimney. However, as I lingered there clear of the 
 woods' shadow, my courage gradually returned, and 
 our situation appeared less desperate. Whoever the 
 fellow was who had killed D'Auvray he might have as 
 much cause to fear the Indian raiders as we did. The 
 mere fact that he wore a red coat was no direct proof 
 he was a British soldier; doubtless many a forest rene- 
 gade had picked up bits of discarded uniform. Besides, 
 why should any soldier desire to kill D'Auvray? He 
 had led his Indians to action under Hamilton. More 
 likely the fellow was French, and the murder the end 
 
 [123]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 of some private feud. His only desire then would be to 
 get away safely, to escape unseen. Brady would learn 
 all this, and he would be back presently. He was too 
 thoroughly a woodsman to be taken by surprise; too 
 cautious to fall a victim to treachery; the slightest 
 sound would put him on his guard, and send him back 
 with ample warning. Heartened by these thoughts I 
 circled the house cautiously, my rifle ready, searching 
 the shadows with keen eyes, determined to remain out- 
 side until I should know the whole truth. It would not 
 be long an hour, perhaps two and, in the mean- 
 while, if the fellow was still lurking about, I wanted 
 to get hand on him. 
 
 I do not know how long a time passed, only I had 
 circled the house twice, skirting the edge of the woods 
 in my rounds, keeping well in the blacker shadows, 
 and moving noiselessly, every nerve alert. I saw noth- 
 ing, heard nothing, except that distant hooting of an 
 owl. This had already become so monotonous as to have 
 lost interest. Back of the house I discovered a mound 
 of earth, heaped as a roof, over an opening in the 
 ground, evidently a cellar of some kind. So far as I 
 could discover, by groping in the darkness, there was 
 nothing concealed within, but the entrance offered a 
 good hiding place, and I sat down there where I could 
 see in every direction, with my rifle across my knees. 
 
 [124]
 
 / Take a Prisoner 
 
 The stars yielded a spectral light, and no one could 
 move across the clearing unobserved. I sat there for 
 ten minutes, seeing and hearing nothing, gradually 
 growing drowsy in the silence, my head sinking back 
 against the earth mound. Yet I remained awake and 
 watchful, although, when I first perceived a figure flit- 
 ting out of the black fringe of woods, I half believed it 
 a dream. But it was no dream, and I sat up suddenly, 
 my heart beating like a triphammer, and stared. I 
 could see little, not enough to determine whether the 
 intruder was savage or white, merely perceiving an in- 
 distinct form, crouching low, yet advancing directly 
 toward me. There was no hesitancy, no evidence of 
 fear, but merely the natural caution of one traveling 
 alone in the wilderness. At first, I believed it to be 
 Brady returning, yet hesitated to step boldly forth, for 
 the figure appeared small and unnatural, barely per- 
 ceptible against the darker background of earth. 
 
 To render myself more secure I drew cautiously back 
 a step within the cellar entrance, and waited breath- 
 lessly, bracing myself to meet either friend or foe. I 
 could no longer see the intruder, and the caution of his 
 approach made me certain the man must be an enemy. 
 Surely Brady, even while exercising every precaution, 
 would never hesitate like this, and grope his way for- 
 ward inch by inch. I felt the hot blood leap in my veins ; 
 
 [125]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 then the fellow, still crouching low, but with rifle barrel 
 advanced, appeared around the edge of the pile of earth, 
 scarcely two yards distant. All I saw clearly was a 
 hat with a feather in it, an indistinct outline of form, 
 and the black rifle barrel. Yet the person was not an 
 Indian, whoever he might be ; whatever his purpose, he 
 was white. My rifle came up to the shoulder, and I 
 slipped into the open. 
 
 " Stop where you are ! " I ordered sharply. " Drop 
 your gun, and stand up ! " 
 
 I heard a quick breath of surprise, almost an ex- 
 clamation ; the stock of the rifle sank to the ground, 
 but the hands still clung to the barrel, as the startled 
 figure straightened up. I could not distinguish the 
 face, only the white outline shadowed by the hat, yet 
 the short, slender form was that of a boy. The relief 
 at this discovery brought a laugh to my lips. 
 
 " What does this mean, lad? " I asked. " Have chil- 
 dren gone to war? Come, answer me; you are no 
 savage." 
 
 " 'T is not a lad with whom you deal, Monsieur Hay- 
 ward," replied a soft voice, trembling a bit nevertheless, 
 though attempting boldness. " You know me now ? " 
 
 She flung the concealing hat into the grass, the silvery 
 light of the stars on her face. 
 
 " You here ! you ! " I exclaimed in swift surprise at 
 [126]
 
 I Take a Prisoner 
 
 this unexpected denouement, and feeling the hot blood 
 flush my face. " How is that possible, Mademoiselle? 
 We have traveled swiftly " 
 
 " Ay, but the long way, Monsieur," she interrupted, 
 now quite at her ease. " You forget I know the trails ; 
 that I am Indian." 
 
 " And your companion a renegade," I returned in- 
 stantly, ruffled at the memory. " You came with 
 Girty?" 
 
 She ventured to laugh lightly at my tone, and manner. 
 
 " We traveled together yes. What of that, Mon- 
 sieur? The wilderness is not a parlor where we can 
 choose associates. Did I not warn you I would come 
 with him when you refused me ? Pardeau ! but eet was 
 funny how I stole away from the Americain Generail. 
 He searches for me yet, no doubt, an' swear much. An* 
 you think I did what was wrong? " 
 
 "I? " puzzled by her direct question. "What is it 
 to me, Mademoiselle ? You would not care what I think. 
 Yet were you sister of mine I would speak plainly 
 enough ; we all know what Simon Girty is." 
 
 " Oh, no, Monsieur, the Americains do not," and her 
 voice rung with earnestness. " He is to them an enemy, 
 a fiend. He wars on the other side, and as the Indians 
 make war. Why not? He has lived in our wigwams, 
 and sat at our council fires. He belongs with us, save 
 
 [127]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 for the birthmark of a white skin. To me he is not 
 enemy, but friend. I have known him always, from 
 childhood; there is no fear in my heart; did he desire, 
 he would not dare harm me I am a Wyandot." 
 
 The swift words were a defiance, a challenge. 
 
 " Have it as you will," I said coldly, " but nothing 
 you may say will ever make me think well of that rene- 
 gade." 
 
 " You ! " she exclaimed passionately. " Why do you 
 say that, Joseph Hay ward? Why do 3 r ou keep up this 
 masquerade with me? We are no longer at Fort Harmar 
 where it was safer for you to guard your speech. I 
 knew you would be here ; that was why I came alone 
 that we might talk to each other, and no longer lie." 
 
 I stared at her face in the starlight, my memory 
 suddenly reverting to the dead man within. 
 
 " You knew I would be here? " 
 
 " I guessed it, and my instinct was true. Why not, 
 Monsieur? You alone knew the house was here, and 
 who lived in it." 
 
 [128]
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 MADEMOISELLE MEETS HER FATHEB 
 
 HTIHERE was evidently no use of my groping longer 
 in the dark. The girl was in earnest; she firmly 
 believed me to be another. There could be no under- 
 standing between us until this mystery of identity was 
 cleared away. Her discovery of me here had only served 
 to increase her hallucination. 
 
 " Mademoiselle D'Auvray," I said earnestly, and I 
 stood bare-headed before her, " there is a serious mis- 
 take being made. I am not willing you should deceive 
 yourself any longer. I am going to be perfectly frank 
 with you, and in return I ask you to be equally frank 
 with me. Who do you believe me to be ? " 
 
 She gazed straight into my face, answering: 
 
 " Monsieur Joseph Hayward." 
 
 " Of course," smiling, " you heard the name at Fort 
 Harmar." 
 
 " But I did not ; it was never mentioned in my pres- 
 ence. I recognized you." 
 
 " Which would imply that we had met before, yet I 
 have no recollection, not the faintest, of such a meet- 
 ing. You are not one it would be easy to forget." 
 
 [129]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " Unless one particularly desired to do so," she re- 
 plied swiftly, " and that I am beginning to suspect is 
 the case." She straightened her slender figure, throw- 
 ing back her shoulders and using a clearer English than 
 before, as if throwing off disguise. " You ask me to deal 
 with you frankly, Monsieur ; very well, I will. Down in 
 my heart I have never trusted you never ! My father 
 did, and I made pretense to please him. But from our 
 first meeting my womanly instincts told me you were 
 false. Now I know it! You are not with us, but with 
 our enemies ; you are a traitor ! a spy ! " 
 
 The words stung; they were like the thrusts of a 
 knife. Was the girl insane? mad? 
 
 " When was that first meeting? " I questioned gravely, 
 my teeth clinched. 
 
 " When was it ? " she laughed unpleasantly, with a 
 gleam of white teeth. " You ask that ? Am I then in 
 your eyes a fool, Monsieur? Think you I have forgot- 
 ten so soon the waters of the north, and the lodges of the 
 Wyandots. You were a red-coat then, and you spoke 
 French " 
 
 " But wait," I interposed. " If I tell you in all seri- 
 ousness that I was never in a Wyandot camp, never 
 wore a British uniform, and have no knowledge of 
 French what then ? " 
 
 She hesitated just an instant, yet took one step 
 [130]
 
 Mademoiselle Meets Her Father 
 
 nearer, so I could see her wide-open dark eyes scanning 
 my features. Whatever of doubt my words aroused de- 
 serted her face as she gazed, her lips curling in scorn. 
 
 " I should believe you lied," she said slowly, " lied 
 deliberately to me. I may not know your motive, yet 
 I might guess it from what I have seen. You can 
 deceive me no longer, Monsieur you are an Americain 
 spy. I care not what you think, or what you say ; I de- 
 spise you, hate you. If you dare go on to that council 
 of the Wyandots I will denounce you to the chiefs. I 
 tell you this to your face. I am a girl, but I do not fear 
 you ; either turn back, or kill me, Joseph Hayward." 
 
 " You call me a spy," I said soberly, as her breath 
 failed, " but I am not. To me this is all mystery. But 
 what about yourself, Mademoiselle? Why were you at 
 Fort Harmar ? What purpose brought you there ? " 
 
 " I went there openly, and in no disguise," she re- 
 plied, restraining herself with an effort. " I was not a 
 spy, nor a victim of curiosity. I told the truth when 
 I said I was seeking my father." 
 
 " Yet you left at once to return North without find- 
 ing him ? " 
 
 " Because I had learned he was not there, not in the 
 Americain forts. I heard the Generail tell it to you." 
 
 " To me ! the name was not mentioned. We spoke 
 only of a Medicine man Wa-pa-tee-tah." 
 
 [131]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " Yes, the White Chief. He came to the Wyandots 
 with the Christ message. He was there before the 
 priests, and it is through his efforts there has been 
 peace. Yet why should I tell you all this? You have 
 met him in council, have eaten at his table, and shared 
 his bed. He alone has stood, and blocked your plans of 
 war." 
 
 I did not answer. It seemed useless to struggle 
 against her faith in my identity. I half believed her 
 mad; that some trouble had left her with disordered 
 brain. Yet it was most strange, her knowing my name, 
 and still associating me thus definitely with another. 
 That I might outwardly resemble some officer in British 
 employ was not altogether impossible, but that he should 
 also bear my name was beyond belief. Yet she was 
 positive, ay! honest in it, and only direct proof would 
 serve to change her opinion. Even as I looked into her 
 face, the hot indignation left me, to give place to sym- 
 pathy. It was her father who lay dead foully mur- 
 dered within a few feet of where we stood. And I 
 must tell her ; must break the news. It was a grim task 
 before which I shrank, the words clinging to my lips. 
 
 " Mademoiselle," I said at last, " let us forget this 
 controversy, this misunderstanding, for it is that, and be 
 friends for this night at least. I wish to help you, 
 and not be held as an enemy. You have been in my 
 
 [132]
 
 Mademoiselle Meets Her Father 
 
 mind ever since we first met; I have not been able to 
 drive you from memory. I must bring you evil news, 
 but my heart is full of kindness and sympathy. You 
 will believe this ? " 
 
 How white her face was in the starlight, uplifted 
 to mine. One hand grasped my sleeve. 
 
 "News! evil news! of my father?" 
 
 " Of Raoel D'Auvray ; he was your father? " 
 
 " Yes ! you say * was '? he is dead? " 
 
 I caught the groping hand in mine, and held it tightly 
 in the grasp of my fingers. She made no movement, 
 but I could distinguish her quick breathing, see her 
 dark eyes. 
 
 " Yes ; you must listen quietly while I tell you all I 
 know. We reached here at dusk. There was a band of 
 Indian raiders camped yonder near the foot of the lake, 
 and so we crossed over to this island to avoid them. 
 We stumbled upon this hut while seeking a camping 
 spot. It was dark, and apparently deserted. The 
 front door was latched, but unlocked, and we ventured 
 inside, feeling our way through the gloom, until we 
 came to a door leading into the rear room. You know 
 the arrangement? " 
 
 She did not respond, or remove her eyes from my 
 face. 
 
 " When we opened this a huge mastiff leaped sav- 
 [133]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 agely at us. In the darkness he fastened his jaws on 
 Brady's arm the scout with me and had to be 
 killed by a knife thrust. Then we procured a light 
 with which to search, and found the body of a man 
 lying on the floor." 
 
 "Dead?" 
 
 " Murdered ; his head crushed from behind with an 
 axe. He was an old man, with snow-white beard." 
 
 " How did you know he was Raoel D'Auvray ? " 
 
 " By this medal pinned to his breast," I answered, 
 holding it forth, " a French decoration." 
 
 She grasped it, bending her head so as to see better, 
 and, for a moment, her slender form shook with an emo- 
 tion she could not restrain. Involuntarily I rested a 
 hand upon her shoulder, but the touch aroused her, 
 and she stepped back, standing erect. 
 
 " The medal was his ; he always wore it. But was 
 that all ? Was nothing else found ? " 
 
 " There was a red army jacket flung across a box; 
 but while we were eating later in the other room, some- 
 one stole in through the back door, and carried that 
 away.'* 
 
 She raised her hands to her head, with a gesture of 
 despair. 
 
 "I I believe part of what you have told me," she 
 confessed, her voice trembling. "It it is in my 
 
 [134]
 
 Mademoiselle Meets Her Father 
 
 heart to believe all, but but I cannot. You are not 
 telling me the truth not all the truth. You knew of 
 this house ; you you came here deliberately, and -** 
 and brought your men with you." 
 
 " I deny that, Mademoiselle. We stumbled upon 
 the place by accident." 
 
 " Oh, you drive me crazy with your denials ! " she 
 exclaimed passionately. " I will not listen longer. You 
 are Joseph Hayward; you admit that yourself. No! 
 do not talk to me, or attempt to stop me! I am going 
 to my my father." 
 
 I stood aside and let her pass, yet followed as she 
 entered the door. The interior was black, except for 
 a slight glow as from a dying fire showing dimly thro* 
 the inner door. The dead dog lay shapeless in the mid- 
 dle of the floor, and she stopped, staring at the grim 
 shadow. 
 
 " I will bring light," I said gently, " if you can per- 
 mit me to pass." 
 
 She stepped aside, without answering, holding back 
 her short skirt, as though seeking thus to avoid all con- 
 tact. I stepped over the dog into the other room, hurt 
 beyond words at the action, yet holding a grip on my 
 temper. The fire was a mere smouldering bed of em- 
 bers, and Schultz, stretched out on the bench, a pack 
 for a pillow, was sleeping soundly. The very sight of 
 
 [135]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 his round, cherubic face, upturned and placid, brought 
 back my good humor instantly. With difficulty I ig- 
 nited again the bit of pine we had utilized as a torch, 
 and, with it blazing brightly, returned to the other room, 
 leaving the fellow undisturbed. 
 
 " Why that torch ? " she questioned. " Are there no 
 candles on the shelf? " 
 
 *' What shelf? over there? I had not thought to look." 
 
 " You had not ! " her eyes seemed full of wonder. 
 " Why, you knew they were always kept there." 
 
 Her gaze followed me curiously while I found one, 
 and lighted it, but as the yellow flame illumined the 
 small room, again deserted me, to rest once more upon 
 the motionless figure lying near the wall, which Brady 
 had mercifully covered with a blanket. She stood still, 
 her hands clasped, her face like marble. Still holding 
 the candle in one hand, I bent down, and drew back 
 gently the edge of the blanket, exposing the dead man's 
 face and white beard. In spite of his violent death the 
 features were composed, in no way distorted; he ap- 
 peared like one lying there asleep. For a moment the 
 girl never stirred, her attitude strained, her wide-open, 
 tearless eyes on the peaceful upturned countenance. It 
 seemed to me she had even ceased to breathe. Then 
 she sank slowly upon her knees beside the body, her head 
 close to the cold cheek. 
 
 [136]
 
 Mademoiselle Meets Her Father 
 
 " Father ! Father ! " she sobbed, as if in sudden 
 realization of the truth. " It is you ! " 
 
 Her hat had fallen to the floor, and her wealth of 
 dark hair unloosened completely hid her face. She 
 had forgotten my presence; everything but her grief. 
 I drew back silently, stuck the sputtering candle on a 
 box, where it burned bravely, and left the room. As I 
 glanced back from the doorway, odd shadows flickered 
 along the walls, and she still knelt there, a vague, indis- 
 tinct figure. In the other room I found a chair, and 
 sat down, staring dumbly into the smouldering fire. 
 
 [ 137 1
 
 MADEMOISELLE S STOEY 
 
 T N the intense silence, the gloom of that room lit only 
 by those smouldering embers, with Schultz sleeping 
 undisturbed against the wall, my thought could not 
 be divorced from the lonely girl sobbing above her 
 dead. I was tired, every muscle aching, and each nerve 
 throbbing with pain, yet never was my brain more ac- 
 tive, or sleepless. The sudden cry which had burst from 
 her lips, thrilling with inexpressible anguish, the press- 
 ing of her warm cheek against his cold flesh, the unre- 
 pressed sobs shaking her slender form, had brought to 
 me instantly a new conception of this girl of the wilder- 
 ness. She was no longer a wild thing, reckless, half 
 savage, possibly treacherous, but a woman, actuated by 
 love, tender-hearted and true. For a time it blotted out 
 the past, even the dark stain of Indian blood, the mis- 
 understandings, the inconsistency. I remembered only 
 her grief, her swift surrender to tears. 
 
 Yet the misunderstandings came back haunting me 
 like so many ghosts; the mystery grew darker as I 
 pondered. Even the memory of her face flickered before 
 my eyes, never appearing twice alike now alluring, 
 
 [139]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 and again repellant. Was she of dual nature, womanly 
 and savage by turn, as the instincts of two races domi- 
 nated her action ? Yet this could never account for her 
 distrust of me, her continued insistence upon having 
 previously known me. Ay! and she meant it! There 
 was no attempt at deceit, no acting in all this ; her full 
 faith in the charge was written upon her face, found 
 echo upon her lips. She believed me to be another man, 
 a pretended British officer, a traitor to her people, a 
 scoundrelly spy. Yet she applied to him my name. 
 That was the strangest part of it all. For the moment, 
 sitting there my face in my hands, I was almost again 
 persuaded she was insane; that some ghostly hallucina- 
 tion had taken subtle possession of her mind. But no, 
 that could not be. The very memory of the girl drove 
 away the vague suspicion ; it was unbelievable. A thou- 
 sand questions surged into my mind, no one of which 
 I could answer- who was she? What had been her 
 life? How could the black wilderness bring forth such 
 a flower? Why did D'Auvray lead his life of exile 
 among savages? What would the daughter do now 
 that he was dead? Could it be true she was of Indian 
 blood? A Wyandot? Even so, how could such as she, 
 with her education, her knowledge of civilization, her 
 refinement and beauty, be content with a life in the 
 wigwam? What purpose, what object could compen- 
 
 [140]
 
 Mademoiselle's Story 
 
 sate for such a sacrifice as this must involve? And who 
 was this man, this other Joseph Hayward, if such really 
 existed, with whom she confounded me? What was 
 he to her? to her father? Could he have been the mur- 
 derer? Could it have been his red jacket that lay 
 there, forgotten in flight, certain evidence of goiilt? 
 
 I arose to my feet, and strode nervously across the 
 floor. These questions had driven from my mind all 
 recollection of where I was, of my surroundings the 
 gloomy black forest, the starlit lake without, the flame 
 of the distant camp, of Brady skulking in the gloom, 
 the leagues of circling woods about us Indian haunted 
 and treacherous, the council of the tribes toward which 
 we journeyed. She had said the dead man her father 
 was Wa-pa-tee-tah. Then why should we go on ? Our 
 mission to the North was ended ; we bore no longer any 
 message for the Wyandots. But could I desert her? 
 Could I now turn coldly back with this mystery un- 
 solved, these questions unanswered? Could I leave her 
 unprotected and alone to drift back once more to the 
 life of a savage? Yet, after all, what else was there to 
 do? She possessed no faith, no confidence in me; she 
 would never believe even what I had to tell. Neverthe- 
 less I would tell it yes ! and somehow compel her to 
 believe ! I stood up straight, and determined, my course 
 of action mapped out. Here, now, this very night, as 
 
 [141]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 soon as her first grief had subsided, and she should 
 again come to me, I would tell her the whole truth, in- 
 sist upon her doing the same, and then speak to her of 
 the future. There should be no faltering of words, no 
 further concealment between us. I could do no less; 
 as a man I could do no less, and and, somehow, out 
 of that back room, out of its shadows, loneliness and 
 death, she seemed calling to me, this maiden of the 
 forest. 
 
 Even as I stared toward the open door, the girl herself 
 appeared, outlined against the candle flame. She had 
 bound up the loosened strands of hair, and her dark 
 eyes, dry and tearless, looked straight at me. I doubt 
 if she saw Schultz at all as she came forward, stop- 
 ping only as her hand finally touched the table. As I 
 watched her, my earlier determination died within me; 
 I could only wait in silence for her to speak. 
 
 " Joseph Hayward," she said slowly, the words rasp- 
 ing a little with her effort at self-control. " You con- 
 fess to that name, do you not? " 
 
 " Yes, Mademoiselle," I answered, my lips dry, my 
 eyes riveted on her face. 
 
 * 
 
 " Yet you still claim not to be the same Joseph Hay- 
 ward whom I have known ? " 
 
 " I am an ensign in the army of the United States, 
 and have never worn a red coat.'* 
 [142]
 
 Mademoiselle's Story 
 
 She smiled, but the smile was not altogether pleasant. 
 Then she said slowly, " Very well ; have it so then. I do 
 not in the least believe you, but am going to speak ex- 
 actly as if I did. I am a girl, alone, and must turn to 
 you for help. It makes no difference now if I am of 
 Indian blood and ancestry, I am here alone with you. I 
 have got to trust you, rely upon your word, ask your 
 aid. You claim to know nothing of me, or mine. That 
 there may be no possible mistake I will tell you tell 
 you about him," she pointed backward, with her hand, 
 her voice breaking, " and and about myself. You 
 shall know all, and then you will dare pretend ignorance 
 no longer. Listen, Monsieur. The man lying dead yon- 
 der murdered was my father." 
 
 She leaned forward, resting her hands on the table, 
 for support, the veins in her throat throbbing. Then, 
 apparently for the first time, she perceived the recum- 
 bent figure lying on the bench, and stopped suddenly. 
 
 "Who is that?" 
 
 " The soldier with us, a Dutchman named Schultz." 
 
 "He is asleep?" 
 
 " Yes ; there is no danger from him. He cannot even 
 understand English unless it be spoken slowly, and, 
 from what I know of him, no ordinary noise will ever 
 wake him." 
 
 She hesitated, irresolute, her eyes still on the un- 
 [143]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 conscious sleeper. Then she seemed to master herself, 
 the expression of her face changing as she looked once 
 again toward me. 
 
 " I wish you would at least confess a knowledge of 
 my tongue," she almost pleaded. " It is not in Eng- 
 lish I think, Monsieur, and it is difficult for me to speak 
 in that language." 
 
 " It would be a pleasure to confess anything that 
 would aid you," I replied politely. " But I possess 
 small understanding of French." 
 
 Her eyes darkened indignantly, and she made a force- 
 ful gesture indicative of her true thought of me. 
 
 " You continue to act your part well," she said scorn- 
 fully, " even when there is no longer a necessity. Bah ! 
 I despise this play acting! it is unworthy a soldier. 
 So you would have me tell over what you already know ; 
 you would make me stand here and suffer " 
 
 " Mademoiselle," I interrupted swiftly, " I ask noth- 
 ing. All I seek is the opportunity of service. There 
 is no truth I am going to deny. To prove it I will say 
 this you have remained in my memory since the first 
 hour we met. I desire your trust, your friendship; 
 whatever you may tell me will be held sacred, inviolate. 
 I will serve you though you speak no word, give no 
 explanation. I beg the privilege." 
 
 I thought she would never speak, standing there be-
 
 Mademoiselle's Story 
 
 fore me in the dim light, swaying slightly, her bosom 
 rising and falling with quick breathing. A great sym- 
 pathy welled up in my heart, and all unconsciously, I 
 extended my hands. She must have seen them, but she 
 made no response, but the glitter of unshed tears was 
 in her eyes. 
 
 "I I do not know," she faltered hesitatingly, 
 " what to think of you. This is such a strange puzzle. 
 Sometimes I almost believe what you tell me, even though 
 I know it to be untrue. You are the man I claim you to 
 be; there is no doubt of that," her voice firmer with 
 determination. " I would swear to that before a coun- 
 cil of my people ; you bear his name, you have his face 
 and form. There cannot possibly be two of such won- 
 derful resemblance. Yet, Mon Dieu! there is that about 
 you, Monsieur, that I never observed in him some 
 strange quality which gives me faith, which awakens 
 trust. I I almost believe you, almost doubt the 
 reality of my eyesight. It angers me to be such a fool." 
 She pressed one hand to her temple, as if thus sweeping 
 away every false impression, and stood erect, the mo- 
 mentarily softness gone from her face. 
 
 " What is the use of our talking like this ? " she went 
 on impetuously. " 'T is as though we exchanged 
 compliments in Montreal. Instead we are in the wilder- 
 ness, with danger all about us. You are what you are, 
 
 [145]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 Monsieur, and I am a woman of the Wyandots. Let all 
 else pass ; I care nothing whether your thought of me 
 be good or evil. I am what I am ; what birth and con- 
 ditions have made me. All I appeal to in you is whatever 
 of manhood you may still retain. I tell you my story, 
 because you swear you know it not ; then listen, and you 
 shall. No, do not move, but hear me; I would not do 
 this without a reason." 
 
 She glanced aside at Schultz, and then into the red 
 embers of the fire, her eyes coming slowly back to rest 
 on my face. 
 
 " I am Rene D'Auvray, and my father lies dead there 
 in the next room. He was all I had in the world, yet I 
 knew little enough of him. He spoke seldom of his past 
 life even to me. Still, I have much reason to believe 
 that in his younger days he was intimate at the French 
 Court. I know he was a soldier, an officer of the King's 
 guard, decorated for bravery. He never told me why 
 he was exiled to this land, buried in the far wilderness, 
 made a companion of savages. I never asked, although 
 my heart ached to do so, for he was not a man to be 
 questioned lightly, and I early learned that the very 
 thought brought him pain. But I know this, for I saw 
 a letter once, a yellow, creased letter, which I think he 
 purposely mislaid hoping I would see. He wanted me 
 to know, yet had not the heart to tell me. It was from 
 
 [146]
 
 Mademoiselle's Siorif 
 
 a French comrade in arms, and there was a crest on the 
 paper, and a great name signed. I wept as I read, for 
 the writer loved the man to whom he told the story, 
 and the words came warm from his heart. Whatever 
 else you may know of us, Monsieur Joseph Hayward, 
 you have never known this. It was because of a lady 
 my father loved, a relative of the King. For her sake 
 he fought the Prince de Millier, and killed him in the 
 royal garden. It was a fair fight, but the King saw 
 it not so, for it disarranged his plans, and my father 
 had to flee France to save his life. Then was he pro- 
 scribed, a price set upon his head." 
 
 She paused, and sank into a chair, bowing her face 
 upon the table. I stood silent, unable to speak, the 
 sound of her voice still in my ears. She looked up 
 again, dashing her hand across her eyes. 
 
 " I must be far more French than Indian to become 
 so weak," she explained, ashamed of the emotion. " 'T is 
 the memory of him lying yonder, Monsieur, with no 
 word no last word for me. So it was he came to 
 America, but they would not let him rest in either Que- 
 bec or Montreal. They drove him forth into the woods, 
 into the camps of Indians. He told me once about those 
 days ; of how he traversed the black waters of the Ottawa 
 and met hardships on the great lakes, his companions 
 voyageurs and couriers des bois, his only means of sup- 
 
 [147]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 port the furs he could send back to Montreal. But he 
 might not venture there himself, but was doomed forever 
 to a life beyond civilization. His associations would 
 have brutalized him, made him a fit denizen of those 
 wilds, turned him also into a savage, but for one thing 
 he was a fervent Catholic. It was this which kept 
 him ever gentle, sweet and strong. He possessed the 
 passion to save souls ; he became an evangel to the In- 
 dians among whom he lived. He was at Mackinac and 
 Green Bay; he told the Pottawattomies of Christ, but 
 they cast him out; he traveled to the villages of the 
 Illinois, but the Jesuits were already there, and gave 
 him no welcome. At last he found a home with the 
 Wyandots. At first the task was not easy, for they 
 were a savage people. They had tortured Jesuit priests 
 at the stake, and flogged the Recollets who came also. 
 But my father won their confidence ; he went forth with 
 them to battle ; he went with them against their enemies, 
 and so they finally listened to what he said. He became 
 Wa-pa-tee-tah, the White Chief, and taught them of 
 Christ Jesus. They became Christians because they 
 were proud of him. He accomplished what the priests 
 could not do, and kept the tribe at peace with the 
 whites. The English came, and hated him, for he would 
 not enter into their schemes, nor permit his people to. 
 Only once did he lead them to war, against your Gen- 
 
 [148]
 
 Mademoiselle's Story 
 
 eral Clark at Vincennes. Are you a Catholic, Mon- 
 sieur ? " 
 
 I made the sign of the cross. 
 
 " We were of that faith in Maryland." 
 
 Her eyes lighted up. 
 
 " I know not Maryland, but I am glad, for I never 
 before asked your religion. Shall I go on? " 
 
 " It is of deep interest.*' 
 
 " Truly ! It seems foolish for me to repeat that with 
 which you are already partly acquainted; only I must 
 tell it all, or none at all, for you will not admit how 
 much you may know. But I will hurry. Exiled and 
 lonely, abandoning all hope of ever returning to France, 
 or even civilization, my father finally, to increase his 
 influence with the tribe, took for wife a woman of the 
 Wyandots. Although I was born of that union, yet I 
 never saw my mother, who died when I was but a babe. 
 I am told she was of fair complexion, but jet black hair 
 and eyes, the daughter of a French trader and Indian 
 mother, able to read and write. My father loved her, 
 and taught her much that he had learned in early life. 
 When she died he seemed to change, to lose interest 
 in the past, to cease to dream longer of Europe. He 
 became more fully a Wyandot. I was brought up in the 
 camps of the tribe, living in their wigwams, sharing in 
 their prosperity and adversity. I played with Indian 
 
 [149]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 children, and was cared for by Indian women. I must 
 have been ten years old, Monsieur, before I first realized 
 that I was mainly of white blood, of another race. Yet 
 when this knowledge came it brought with it sudden 
 ambition." 
 
 Her eyes were upon the fire now, and her voice had 
 lost its harshness. 
 
 " I remember when I went to my father it was in 
 a camp on the shores of the great lake and made 
 him tell me more of his own life, and the life of my 
 mother. What he said opened before me a fairyland. 
 I began to dream and hope. He taught me the French 
 tongue, and all the scraps of learning his memory re- 
 tained. He sent to Quebec for books, and we studied 
 them together. When I was sixteen he sent me to 
 Montreal, to the convent of the Ursulines, and I was 
 there three years. Then then the Indian blood con- 
 quered, and I came back. The woods called me, and 
 my father; besides," she made the sign of the cross, 
 " God called me to the work I had to do." 
 
 " An Indian missionary? " 
 
 " To my own people. No ! I was of no Order what 
 was that? " 
 
 She arose to her feet listening. 
 
 [150]
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE RETURN OF BRADY 
 
 r 1 1 HERE was utter silence, except for the heavy 
 breathing of the soldier still sound asleep on the 
 bench. I could distinguish no noise without. 
 
 " It was like a cry, faint from a distance," she said, 
 at last, " but I hear nothing now. Did you catch it, 
 Monsieur? " 
 
 " I heard only your voice." 
 
 " Then I may have been deceived, although I have the 
 ears of an Indian." 
 
 She sat down again, her hands clasped on the table. 
 
 " You will resume, Mademoiselle ? " 
 
 The long lashes lifted, and her eyes met mine. 
 
 " There is little more. That was my life, just the 
 villages of the Wyandots, in the great forests, and on 
 the lake shore. I was a teacher of Christ to my people,, 
 and they loved me. I must have helped some, yet I 
 hardly know. The cross is not to them what it is to 
 those of white blood and ancestry. Jesuits came, but 
 the Wyandots would only listen to my father and me. 
 They drove all the others away, but had faith in us 
 because we belonged there. I lived the Indian life, fol- 
 
 [151]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 lowed the forest trails, paddled canoes on the rivers, 
 and slept in the tepees. Almost had I forgotten that 
 I was of another race. As time passed I saw less and 
 less of my father. He became silent and discouraged, 
 yet only more fervent in zeal. He would travel from 
 tribe to tribe, or disappear for weeks at a time seeking 
 solitude. He built this hut with his own hands, that he 
 might be alone here. Occasionally he let me go with him 
 on his visits to other nations, and twice I accompanied 
 him to this island. But for months and months I was 
 left alone in the villages of the Wyandots. Then the 
 English agents came, and the tribe made war against 
 the Americains." 
 
 She stopped suddenly. 
 
 " Monsieur, you know the rest." 
 
 Some sound caused me to wheel about, and I faced 
 Brady, who had just stepped within and closed the 
 door. His gray eyes surveyed us in one swift glance, 
 settling inquiringly on the girl, who had arisen to her 
 feet. Schultz awakened, sat up on the bench, blinking 
 sleepily. 
 
 "Brady?" 
 
 " Of course ; and who have you here, Master Hay- 
 ward? A woman surely, by dress Indian, and by face 
 white." 
 
 " This is Mademoiselle D'Auvray," I replied, not 
 [152]
 
 The Return of Brady 
 
 liking his manner of speech, " the daughter of the man 
 we found here dead." 
 
 " She was not in the house when I left. Oh, I re- 
 member! the same perchance who was at Fort Harmar, 
 the one you told me about, and who threatened to follow 
 us with Simon Girty. Truly, she must have kept her 
 word, for that black renegade is here." 
 
 " Here ! Girty? you saw him? " 
 
 " Ay ! in the Indian camp out yonder. Nor was that 
 all I saw. There is something savage on foot, or I am 
 no woodsman. I thought those devils might have other 
 quarry, and come back here to lie quiet in hiding, but 
 I am not so sure now that we are not the ones sought. 
 This girl belongs with them." 
 
 She stepped past me, and stood erect facing him, the 
 dark eyes frankly meeting the gray. In the dull light, 
 she looked wondrously fair, her upturned face deli- 
 cately chiselled and refined. 
 
 " Yet I am not one of them," she said slowly in her 
 careful English. " I am Wyandot ; those you saw are 
 Miamis and Ojibwas, thieves and murderers. My peo- 
 ple are Christian, and are not at war." 
 
 " You were with them ; with Girty," he insisted, but 
 in somewhat kinder tone. " You came here direct from 
 their camp." 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur Brady, but unknown to them, even to 
 [153]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 Girty himself. They know me the Miamis and I 
 have no fear even of their young men when painted for 
 war. She spoke simply, clearly, as if she would conceal 
 nothing. " This was my father's cabin. No one knew 
 of it but me not even Simon Girty. It was reported 
 at Fort Harmar that he was dead ; I did not know, yet 
 it was that vague report which made me so eager to get 
 back to my own people ; made me reckless enough to risk 
 the trail in company with the white renegade. I do not 
 fear, but I despise him. I knew the woods better than 
 he, and guided our course that I might visit this island 
 in search of my father. It was my thought he might 
 be hiding here alone. Yesterday we came upon that 
 raiding party, and must needs join them as they jour- 
 neyed our way." 
 
 " What settlements had they attacked ? " 
 
 " Those of the Moravians ; they had scalps and 
 booty." 
 
 " And their chief? " 
 
 "Black Horse, an outlaw of the Ojibwas; Girty 
 knew him." 
 
 " Ay ! he '11 likely know all the dogs of that breed," 
 the frontiersman growled sullenly. " Some of those 
 scalps were of women." 
 
 " Yes," her voice low, regretful, " and they had 
 with them a prisoner for torture, a preacher of the 
 
 [154]
 
 Protestants." She crossed herself. " I talked with 
 him, or tried to, for we could not understand each 
 other. At sight of my rosary he drew back in horror." 
 
 " Our Dutch friend here would be far more apt to 
 reach his ear," admitted Brady scornfully. " They 
 would hobnob together, no doubt. You say the band is 
 composed of outlaws ? " 
 
 "The Ojibwas, yes; the others are young Miami 
 warriors out hunting, who met Black Horse, and were 
 persuaded to join him. 'T is their influence which has 
 saved the preacher from the stake." 
 
 "You left them when?" 
 
 " I hardly know, Monsieur," glancing toward me, 
 " perhaps two hours ago ; I had forgotten time. They 
 kept no guard, for there had been no pursuit, nor any 
 sign of danger. It was easy to slip away unseen. None 
 among them knew of this place, not even Girty, and I 
 came alone. There was nothing for me to fear; I knew 
 the way, and I had faith I should find my father." 
 
 " This is the truth? the whole truth? " 
 
 " Out, Monsieur," and bowed her head. 
 
 " Then you know nothing of any new arrivals at the 
 camp ? There were some expected ? " 
 
 " I am sure not," her aroused interest apparent in 
 her voice. " Did others j oin them ? who were they, 
 Monsieur? " 
 
 [155]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 Brady looked at her searchingly, leaning on his gun, 
 the lines of his face stern. I could not forbear stepping 
 forward beside her. 
 
 " Never you mind speaking, Master Hayward," he 
 said shortly. " The girl needs no defender ; I believe 
 what she says. Now listen, both of you, and see what 
 you make of it. I was within twenty yards of their 
 camp, at the edge of the underbrush, and could see 
 clearly all that occurred about the fire. There was no 
 guard set, but the prisoner lay between two Indians, so 
 that any attempt at rescue was impossible. I could not 
 tell just how many were in the band, for some were lying 
 well back beyond the range of light. I saw Girty, how- 
 ever, get up and put wood on the flame. I had sight 
 drawn on the devil, yet dared not fire. Then he lay down 
 again, and I crept around toward where he had disap- 
 peared, thinking I might use a knife to rid the world of 
 such a beast. But before I could reach him there came 
 along the shore a considerable body of Indians. The 
 sand made no sound, and they passed so close to where I 
 lay one fellow stepped upon my hand. Yet they passed 
 by, trooping into the camp, and I counted thirty." 
 
 " Of what tribe, Monsieur ? " 
 
 " From the Wabash. I caught words in the language 
 of the Shawnees. They had a white man with them." 
 
 "A prisoner? " 
 
 [156]
 
 " No ; he talked with Girty in English, and then to 
 the savages in their own tongue. I could only catch a 
 word now and then I could understand, but he pointed 
 toward the island, and seemed to urge them this way. I 
 dared not stay there longer, for fear I should be too 
 late, and so crept backward, and got away." 
 
 She stepped forward and grasped his arm. 
 
 " What was the white man like, Monsieur? You saw 
 his face? " 
 
 " No ; never once did he front the fire. I heard his 
 voice, and could see the outline of his figure. He was a 
 big fellow, not unlike the Ensign here, and he wore a 
 red coat." 
 
 For one moment she stood motionless, one hand 
 pressed against her temple, the other grasping his 
 sleeve. The cheek toward me flamed red. 
 
 " You you are sure ? " she faltered. " He he 
 looked like that? " 
 
 " Yes, Mademoiselle," his tone that of surprise. " It 
 was dark but I could see that." 
 
 "And this man is really an Americain officer?" her 
 dark eyes flashing toward me. " He has never been in 
 the North before?" 
 
 A grim smile curled Brady's lips, as his keen gray 
 eyes swept over the two of us. 
 
 " I reckon maybe it was 'bout a year ago I fust met 
 [167]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 the Ensign, Mademoiselle, up at Fort Pitt, an' off an' 
 on ever since we've run against each other along the 
 Ohio. I don't know what all this may be leadin' to, but 
 so far as I can see, he ain't no cause to tell you a lie." 
 
 She hesitated, glancing from his sober face into mine ; 
 then impulsively held out her hand. 
 
 " I I am glad, Monsieur," her lips trembling. " I 
 I cannot tell you how glad. It is such a strange 
 thing that you should look so much alike and bear the 
 same name. Can the other be a relative of yours ? " 
 
 I shook my head. 
 
 " Hardly ; we are I suppose of English stock, but my 
 family has been a hundred years in Maryland." 
 
 " And you forgive ? " 
 
 " There is nothing to forgive a mere mistake " 
 
 " Oh, come ! " broke in Brady impatiently. " I have 
 no understanding of all this, nor have we time to ex- 
 change compliments. There is little enough of darkness 
 left if we are to get away. What is it you know, Made- 
 moiselle ? " 
 
 " Not so much as what I suspect," she answered 
 quickly. " There is a British agent working among 
 the tribes, under Hamilton's orders, an officer of in- 
 fantry, who calls himself Joseph Hayward " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur, the same name, with a face strangely 
 [158]
 
 The Return of Brady 
 
 like this man's, and a form as big. I thought I knew; 
 thought I could not be mistaken ! Nothing convinced 
 me but your word. You are of the woods, and jour 
 eyes did not lie. I have heard my father tell of you as 
 a great hunter, a man to be trusted, though an Ameri- 
 cain. You are Stephen Brady? You were with Mon- 
 sieur Clark?" 
 
 " Yes, Mam'selle." 
 
 " I know ; I heard it all, and when I looked in your 
 eyes I was sure you would tell me true. We of the 
 Great Woods understand each other." 
 
 " But about this Englishman? " 
 
 " He was ever urging the tribes to war, lying to them, 
 pledging them help. He came to my people I am a 
 Wyandot often. He met my father there in council, 
 the one ever advocating war, the other counselling peace. 
 He failed in his mission to our people, yet somehow my 
 father liked him; perhaps it was a pleasure to talk 
 again with one who knew Europe and the late books. 
 And the Englishman, hoping thus to finally win my 
 father over to his side, was most cordial. He played a 
 part that he might keep my father on long journeys to 
 other tribes, while he remained behind to poison the 
 minds of our own people. I overheard his words, his ly- 
 ing promises to our warriors. Yet in spite of all, the 
 Wyandots remained at peace ; they alone held back the 
 
 [159]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 tribes from war. I appealed to them, Monsieur; I, a 
 mere girl, held before them a cross, and they listened, 
 and were afraid. They drove the Englishman from the 
 camp, back to his master." 
 
 "And what then?" 
 
 " My father still trusted him, and he came back once 
 more. They went away together, as I supposed on 
 some mission to the tribes. I heard nothing, no mes- 
 sage came back. I came to this island with two of my 
 people, but there was no one here; the cabin was de- 
 serted. There came to me later a report that they 
 were seen together on the Wabash, and I journeyed 
 there also. The Miamis told me a strange story of 
 treachery and death at the hands of the Americains. I 
 half believed it a lie ; yet I must know. My Wyandots 
 would go no further: they were afraid, so I came by 
 myself to the Shawnees, and then, with French boat- 
 men, journeyed up the great river to the fort of the 
 Americain commander. You know the rest, Messieurs." 
 
 She was leaning back against the table, holding her- 
 self erect by her hands. Her story had been told 
 swiftly, interjected with French phrases where English 
 failed her. 
 
 " Yes," I burst forth, " you came here again and 
 found him dead murdered ? and and you believed 
 I did it." 
 
 [160]
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE BARRIER BETWEEN 
 
 T TER eyes deserted Brady's face and sought mine. 
 " Not now, Monsieur, not now," she said gently. 
 " I was blind then with suspicion. The name, the face, 
 the giant form deceived me. Perhaps I never really 
 looked to be sure, for I never dreamed of any mistake. 
 Now I know, for I can see myself the eyes and mouth 
 are not his ; no ! you can smile and sympathize ; you are 
 not all deceit. But, Monsieur," and her hands were 
 outstretched, " can you blame me ? What could I think 
 else, believing you to be that Englishman? You came 
 here straight as the arrow flies, as if you knew the way." 
 
 She stopped, listening to some sound without. 
 
 " 'T is an owl hooting in the woods ; but, Messieurs, 
 we must not stand and talk. I am in no danger; they 
 will never lay hands on me, but they will come here seek- 
 ing you. It will be as the Englishman wishes: he will 
 tell them you are here, that you have killed Wa-pa-tee- 
 tah of the Wyandots. He will point out to them the 
 dead body, and cry for vengeance. They are young 
 warriors, mad already with blood-lust Miamis, Shaw- 
 nees, Ojibwas many of them outcasts from their 
 
 [161]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 tribes. No words of mine will restrain them, or save 
 you. There will be blood and war. You must not wait, 
 Messieurs ; you must go ! " 
 
 " And leave you here with those demons ? " 
 
 She made a swift gesture. 
 
 " I ! Mother of God, you do not understand. 
 There is nothing for me to fear. They dare not touch 
 me. They know me I am a Wyandot. To do me evil 
 would mean war. It is of yourselves you must think. 
 I will remain here with my father's body ; they will find 
 me alone when they come." 
 
 She stepped past Brady to the door, opened it and 
 glanced out into the night. 
 
 " 'T is an hour yet until day," she said coming back. 
 " That will give you time. They will be here with the 
 first light of dawn. There will be no attack until then. 
 You must delay no longer." 
 
 Brady picked up his pack, motioning Schultz to do 
 the same. 
 
 " The girl is right enough, Master Hayward," he 
 said grimly. " Fate has played us a shabby trick, and 
 we must take whatever chance remains. Our lives are 
 at stake, but I doubt if we make it, for the savages will 
 find our trail " 
 
 " You will not go as you came," she interrupted. 
 " There is a canoe yonder, hidden beneath the bank. 
 
 [162]
 
 The Barrier Between 
 
 Cross the lake in that before daybreak and you will 
 have hours the start. I will hold them here as long as 
 possible, and there is no other boat. They will have to 
 march around the shore. Come, I will show you." 
 
 We followed her out into the night, across the nar- 
 row clearing into the fringe of woods. There were 
 clouds overhead, and very dark, but there seemed to be 
 a path winding through the dense tangle of underbrush. 
 I followed Schultz, keeping close enough barely to dis- 
 tinguish his figure. Twice he ran into trees, but 
 was too frightened to speak aloud. The distance was 
 short, however, and the four of us halted at the edge 
 of the shore facing the water. We could catch no 
 glimpse from here of the Indian camp, and the silence 
 was profound. Only for a moment did the girl hesitate, 
 bending down and listening. Then she led the way 
 around a narrow point of sand, pressed back some 
 bushes, and revealed the sharp prow of a canoe. Brady 
 flung down his pack, and hauled the light craft down 
 to the edge of the water. 
 
 " Lay hold there, Schultz," he ordered in low voce, 
 " till we get her afloat." 
 
 I stood alone back in the shadow, hesitating, uncer- 
 tain. It was in my heart to refuse to desert her there. 
 She turned toward me. 
 
 " You must get away at once," she said. " There is 
 [163]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 little enough time. Head straight out for the opposite 
 shore." 
 
 " But I have no wish to go without you." 
 
 " Without me ? " her voice questioning. " There is 
 nothing for me to flee from ; I have nothing to fear from 
 Indians. Is it so hard for you to recall what I am? " 
 
 " Yes, it is, Mademoiselle," I pleaded earnestly. 
 " My thought will not associate you with these savages. 
 Perhaps I might if I knew your people, but not such 
 ruthless murderers as those yonder, wearing the scalps 
 of women. Who is to protect you from that motley 
 crew? Will it be Girty? or that English agent? " 
 
 Her eyes met mine even in the darkness. 
 
 " I shall need appeal to neither, Monsieur. You do 
 not in the least understand. I am not a mere squaw of 
 the Wyandots, but a teacher they love. There is not a 
 tribe from the Wabash to the upper lakes among whom 
 my name is not known. I have even sat in council with 
 the chiefs, and spoken. Touch me, those outlaws ! Not 
 one would dare lay a finger upon me. I am as safe 
 among them as my father was." 
 
 " But he was killed." 
 
 " By no Indian hand. Please, Monsieur, do not urge 
 me any more. As it is I am balanced between two duties 
 to go with you, guard you, and see you safe, or 
 remain and condemn my father's murderer." 
 
 [164]
 
 The Barrier Between 
 
 " You believe then " 
 
 " That he was the Englishman who bears your name. 
 That man alone had knowledge of this hut on the island ; 
 he alone possessed opportunity. The scarlet jacket left 
 behind, and his sudden appearance in the Indian camp, 
 all point direct to his guilt. I remain to make sure; 
 that is my duty." 
 
 " And what would you have us do? " I asked. " We 
 no longer have any mission to the Wyandots ; the 
 White Chief is dead, and, beyond doubt, you will bear 
 his body to the council of chiefs ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then is there any reason why we should go for- 
 ward into greater peril? " 
 
 " No ; that was what I meant to tell you. Monsieur 
 Brady ! " 
 
 The scout rose to his feet, a black smudge in the 
 night, and came up the low bank to where we stood. 
 
 " You called, Mademoiselle ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I was talking with the officer, but perhaps 
 you do not understand all. Captain D'Auvray was 
 known to the Wyandots as Wa-pa-tee-tah. He is dead, 
 and his body will be taken to Sandusky ; I shall tell the 
 Wyandots how he died. There is no longer need that 
 Monsieur should meet them in council. It is better that 
 you return to Fort Harmar." 
 
 [165]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " Then why should we cross the lake? " 
 
 " So as to hide your trail. The Indians will believe 
 you have gone on. I will encourage that belief. Now 
 mark my words closely. There is a stream almost op- 
 posite here, flowing into the lake; it is not large, but 
 bears sufficient water to float a canoe for several miles. 
 It circles to the south, and you must follow its course, 
 leaving no sign. When you reach water too shallow, 
 leave the canoe hidden and strike straight for the Ohio. 
 There will be no pursuit, for I pledge you these Indians 
 will go with me." 
 
 She paused, but neither of us spoke, and she held out 
 her hand. 
 
 " Good-by, Monsieur Brady.'* 
 
 He accepted the proffered hand awkwardly, dropped 
 it almost instantly, and stepped back. 
 
 " I reckon that would be the best way, Miss," he 
 stammered, " so maybe we better go. Are you ready, 
 sir? " 
 
 " Yes, run out the canoe ; I '11 be there in a minute. 
 Mademoiselle." 
 
 She turned toward me, as he went noiselessly across 
 the sand beach. Her hand was not extended, but I had 
 the courage to reach out and grasp it in my own. 
 
 " Do not say good-by to me," I whispered, feeling my 
 voice tremble. " I go because you wish it, because it 
 
 [ 166 ] "
 
 The Barrier Between 
 
 seems to be the wise thing to do; but I will not believe 
 we are never to meet again." 
 
 " Yet that is not likely, Monsieur." 
 
 " If I seek you it might be." 
 
 " It will require more than peaceful travel to do 
 that," she replied soberly. " There is going to be 
 war." 
 
 "War! the Indians of the northwest?" 
 
 " Yes ; the time has come is here. The council at 
 Sandusky was for no other purpose. Girty's message 
 was merely an excuse for the Wyandots to join the 
 other tribes. He confessed as much to me. It was 
 because my father realized his helplessness longer to 
 restrain British influence, that he disappeared. It is 
 war, Monsieur." 
 
 " But not between us," I insisted, shocked at the pic- 
 ture. " Mademoiselle, come with me. There is noth- 
 ing left to hold you to this life among savages. With 
 your father dead, why should you continue to bury 
 yourself in these woods? You have education, refine- 
 ment, gentlenessness ; why should you not go now, 
 before war breaks along the border ? " 
 
 " And desert my people ? " 
 
 " But they are not your people ; you are white, not 
 red. That small drop of Indian blood in your veins 
 does not make you a Wyandot. You have nothing else 
 
 [167]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 in common with them. Why not be yourself, choosing 
 life among those of your own race? " 
 
 I thought she hesitated, and I grasped her hand more 
 closely, the hot blood leaping in my veins. In the dim 
 light I could see her lowered face, the eyes downcast. 
 
 " No, Monsieur," she said at last, very low. " It is 
 good of you to think thus of me, but but I cannot do 
 that. You must not urge. 'T is true there is more 
 French blood in me than Indian, and I love those things 
 to which you invite. They tempt me to be false to my 
 mother's people, but but, Monsieur, I have a duty 
 to which I am sacredly pledged. The Wyandots need 
 me more now that my father is gone than ever be- 
 fore. They are my people; I was born to them, and 
 played as a child in their villages. They love me, trust 
 me, and I help them by teaching them the Christ. To 
 desert them would be to desert Him. I cannot do that, 
 Monsieur, merely to gratify myself." 
 
 " But have I no call upon you? " I insisted in des- 
 peration. 
 
 " No, Monsieur," and she was looking at me now 
 with some amazement. " 'T is scarce an hour since I 
 believed you a murderer. We do not know each other. 
 Let me trust, and believe in you; do not speak like 
 that." 
 
 " I meant nothing wrong, Mademoiselle," I broke in 
 [168]
 
 The Barrier Between 
 
 hastily, stung by her words of reproof. " You have 
 come to me out of the woods like a new life. I know it 
 is strange, all strange, but there is already something 
 between us that can never be severed." 
 
 "Is there, Monsieur?" 
 
 " Yes ; race makes no difference. I thought it did 
 once. When you said back there in the shadow of the 
 stockade that you were a Wyandot it was as if you 
 struck me a blow in the face. I swore then I would think 
 of you no more, yet, even that night, you were in 
 my dreams, and ever since your face has been in my 
 memory." 
 
 I felt her handclasp tighten on mine, although her 
 body remained motionless. 
 
 " I did not think you would speak like that, Mon- 
 sieur," she said gravely, her glance sweeping the two 
 dim figures beside the canoe. " I do not wish you to say 
 such things to me. I am an Indian, you an Americain 
 
 an officier, Monsieur. You forget, but I do not. We 
 meet once, twice, and you talk to me as the English do 
 to women of my people. Have I given you cause to be- 
 lieve me a light-o'-love ? At first I thought you a spy ; 
 then a traitor, later a murderer. Then when Monsieur 
 Brady told me the truth, I endeavored to save you. I 
 
 I had even begun to like you, to wish you well, and 
 now you ruin all." 
 
 [169]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " You do not believe me in earnest ? " 
 
 "I! how can I, Monsieur? I think you jest, you 
 amuse yourself. Let us stop it all now. You go back 
 to your people, I to mine, and we will both forget. No ! 
 do not say more! I will not listen. Come with me to 
 the boat." 
 
 I followed her down the bank, words burning on my 
 lips she gave me no chance to speak, for she moved with 
 quick decision. The two men had the canoe turned over, 
 at the very edge of the water, and the scout was upon 
 his knees in the sand. He looked up hastily at our 
 approach. 
 
 " I reckon we stay here, Miss," he said soberly. 
 " Somebody has smashed a hole through the bottom 
 with a stone." 
 
 She uttered a little cry of alarm, leaning over his 
 shoulder. 
 
 "A hole! how could that be? Surely it was no 
 accident ! " 
 
 He arose to his feet, brushing off his knees. 
 
 " That 's what I told the Dutchman, though neither 
 of us could find the rock. I reckon the Englisher did 
 that job; he had it all figured out, and meant to keep 
 us yere." 
 
 I saw her look up at the man's face, and then about in 
 bewilderment. 
 
 [170]
 
 The Barrier Between 
 
 " You think that why? " 
 
 " Cause it seems ter me nat'ral. I reckon it 's 'bout 
 what I would a done if I was in his fix. He had proof 
 against us, if he could get some Injuns along as wit- 
 nesses. Nobody would ever believe what we said, or 
 even wait ter listen. All he had to do was catch us 
 yere, charge us with murder, an' turn them devils loose. 
 Thet would let him out slick as a whistle." 
 
 She stood erect, one hand pressed against her temple. 
 
 " Then then what is to be done ? " she questioned 
 blankly, " why what quick, look there ! " She 
 was bending forward and pointing out at the lake. Some 
 dark, moving object was visible in the water only a few 
 yards from shore. 
 
 [171]
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 WE REGAIN THE HOUSE 
 
 T) RADY flung forward his rifle, yet hesitated, fear- 
 ^~^ ing to fire. Whatever it might be animal or 
 man the thing was coming directly toward us, swim- 
 ming noiselessly. Then it rose up, and we saw a face, 
 with long, stringy locks of wet hair dangling to the 
 shoulders. It was a man beyond doubt, yet for the in- 
 stant I could not determine whether red or white. As 
 he stood there sunk to his armpits in water, he beheld 
 us for the first time, and there burst from his lips a 
 sudden, guttural exclamation of alarm. With the 
 strange sound Schultz leaped forward, lumbering 
 against me as he passed, and splashed his way out to- 
 ward the fellow, uttering some exclamation in his native 
 tongue. He reached him, the two voices greeting each 
 other. 
 
 " Well ! " exclaimed Brady in disgust. " If it ain't 
 another Dutchman. Come in here, you ! " 
 
 The two waded ashore onto the sand, Schultz's heavy 
 hand grasping his companion's arm, and helping him 
 along. I saw a face white and ghastly in the starlight, 
 lean, smooth-shaven, looking emaciated against the 
 
 [173]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 long, dank hair, the eyes bright with fanaticism. He 
 was a tall, spare man, shaking so he could hardly stand. 
 The very sight of him aroused my sympathy. 
 
 " Don't be afraid," I said soothingly. " We're all 
 white. How did you come here? " 
 
 His eyes looked at me as I spoke; then shifted to 
 Schultz's face in silent questioning. The latter was 
 breathing hard, but managed to explain. 
 
 " He not talk English ver' goot, Mynheer. I tell you 
 vat he say mit me he vos a Dutch preacher ; yaw, 
 mine Gott ; yust over py mine own countries ; he vos 
 named Adrian Block." 
 
 " Did he swim all the way? " asked Brady grinning, 
 but Schultz kept his eyes fastened on me, held by the 
 one thought to which he sought to give utterance. 
 
 " He vos Moravian, Mynheer ; vot you call Mis-son- 
 ary so? He von month in dees country, an' know 
 only to preach." 
 
 The girl leaning forward, interrupted with a whis- 
 per: 
 
 " I recognize the man, Monsieur ; he was the prisoner 
 I told you of in the Indian camp the Protestant." 
 
 Block saw her then for the first time, his eyes seeming 
 to fairly pop out of his head, his hands uplifted, his lips 
 pouring forth a torrent of unintelligible sentences. 
 Both Brady and I gripped and shook him. 
 
 [174]
 
 We Regain the House 
 
 "Stop that!" I commanded. "This is no Dutch 
 church. Schultz come here; what in Heaven's name is 
 the matter with this idiot ? Has he gone crazy ? What 
 is he trying to say? " 
 
 " He 's much afraid of her, Mynheer that she be- 
 witch him mid dem beads yaw ; dot vos der way of 
 it. He see her in der Injun camp, and not know why 
 she here now." 
 
 "Oh, that's it? Well you tell him. Do n't waste 
 your words, man ; we have no time to stand here arguing 
 with this fanatic. Find out, if you can, how he got 
 away, and what those red demons are up to." 
 
 There was a gruff growling of tongues, Brady still 
 holding fast to the preacher's wet collar, while I turned 
 about to look at Mademoiselle, who was yet staring at 
 him curiously. 
 
 " An odd fish we 've hooked," I muttered in explana- 
 tion. " He thinks you an emissary of the devil." 
 
 " I, Monsieur ? Mon Dieu, why the man think that ! " 
 and she made the sign of the cross. " Nevaire I see 
 this kind before. Over there he pray, pray, pray, yet 
 do nothing. Was it religion, Monsieur? " 
 
 " That is what he calls it. They will not fight his 
 sort. It 's a wonder to me he ever ran away. Well, 
 Schultz what 's the story? " 
 
 " They lef him only mit one guard, an' after while, 
 [175]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 dot fellow he fall asleep. Den he got loose mid his 
 bonds, an' creep down mit der shore of der lake where a 
 boat wus. So he driff out on der water; but der boat 
 leak, an' go down, leaving him mit nottings. Dot vas it, 
 Mynheer. Den he swim som' an' pray mooch, an' so 
 com' here mit us, altready." 
 
 " Where did the Indians go? " 
 
 " Up mit der lake shore so like dis," waving his 
 hand. 
 
 " All of them? the two white men also? " 
 
 Schultz repeated the question, and Block answered, 
 never once removing his eyes from Mademoiselle. 
 
 " He know not what became of der little man ; he 
 see him not for long while, but der big man he go mit 
 der Injuns yaw, he tells dem der way, an' talk all 
 der time." 
 
 " We have got the situation clear enough," concluded 
 Brady, coolly. " Whoever that red-coat is, he evi- 
 dently knows the best way to this island, and the fix 
 we 're in. So far as I can see there is nothing left us 
 but to fight. We can't get away now; the boat is use- 
 less, and those Injuns have blocked the ford. That 's 
 exactly where they are now, watchin' fer us to attempt 
 to cross. The only question is, Where can we hold out 
 the longest? I 'm fer goin' back to the house." 
 
 " And I also," I said, deciding instantly, and as 
 [176]
 
 We Regain the House 
 
 quickly assuming command. " There is small chance of 
 our holding out long against those fellows, but we '11 do 
 the best we can. What about you, Mademoiselle? " 
 
 " I go with you," she answered quietly. 
 
 "Against your own people?" 
 
 " Those are not my people ! They are outlaws, 
 renegades, led by the murderer of my father." 
 
 " Then let us go back ; every moment lost will count 
 against us. Pick up the packs. Brady, you lead off; 
 Schultz, take care of the preacher and keep his tongue 
 still." 
 
 We moved forward one by one through the shadows, 
 until we came once more to the edge of the opening. 
 There was still no perceptible sign of daybreak in the 
 sky, yet it was surely near at hand. The urgent neces- 
 sity for action, the impossibility longer of avoiding act- 
 ual conflict, had aroused me thoroughly. I no longer 
 doubted myself, or asked advice. I felt the responsi- 
 bility of command and became insistent. I noticed the 
 girl's eyes turned upon me, as if she also recognized the 
 difference in my bearing, the abruptness in my voice. 
 Yet I hardly thought of this at the time, my whole be- 
 ing concentrated on what should be done next. My eyes 
 swept the clearing, marking no movement, no sign that 
 the house had been approached since our leaving. 
 
 " They are not here yet," I said, " but we must run 
 [177]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 no risk of being surprised in the open. Go forward, 
 Brady, and make sure ; yes, leave the pack lying here." 
 
 He stole forward cautiously, a mere gliding figure, 
 quickly disappearing in the gloom, noiseless as a 
 shadow. We remained motionless at the edge of the 
 wood, and I grasped the girl's arm as she stood next 
 rne, almost unconscious of the action. 
 
 " You need not fear," she ventured. " They will not 
 come until daylight." 
 
 " That 's Indian custom," I answered, glancing aside 
 at her face. " But these fellows have a white leader 
 two of them, for Girty is quite likely in the game." 
 
 " I rather doubt that, Monsieur," earnestly. " The 
 preacher said he had disappeared. He has no stomach 
 for fighting, unless cornered." 
 
 "Where is he then?" 
 
 " Traveling alone to Sandusky ; that is my guess." 
 
 I waited a moment, then bent over her. 
 
 " I do not really know whether I am glad or sorry, 
 that you decided to remain." 
 
 " Monsieur ! " 
 
 " You would have been safe with those Indians ; safer 
 still with Girty on the trail north. We shall have to 
 fight for our lives." 
 
 " Think you I could companion again with that 
 man? " she exclaimed passionately. 
 
 [178]
 
 We Regain the House 
 
 " And is that all ? Was there no friendship for us 
 in your choice? none for me? " 
 
 She turned her head and faced me. 
 
 " I cannot say yes, or no, Monsieur. The thought 
 was not mine. It was the dead, not the living, who 
 called to me ; I cannot desert the body of my father. It 
 is true you are unjustly attacked; there has been as 
 yet no war declared between my people and the Ameri- 
 cains. More, you travel to the Wyandots with a mes- 
 sage of peace. I belong with you, not with those out- 
 laws. That is all, Monsieur." 
 
 Her answer was truthful; I could read that in her 
 face. Only a clear conception of duty had actuated her 
 decision to remain. If, beneath this, there lingered the 
 slightest personal interest in me as a man, there was 
 no outward indication. Apparently my hasty words 
 had already been forgotten, blotted out. Perhaps she 
 did not realize their full significance, but held them as 
 merely the outburst of impulse. She was an Indian, I 
 a white man ; experience, no doubt, had long ago taught 
 her what this difference in race meant. To her ears my 
 protestations were but wasted breath, unworthy serious 
 thought. This knowledge came to me in full force as 
 we stood there she had forgiven and forgotten ; her 
 decision to remain and share our fate, was in no way 
 stimulated by any personal interest in me. I was to her 
 [179]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 merely an American, an enemy to whom her honor of 
 protection had been pledged. There was nothing more 
 I could say; she had answered calmly and clearly. I 
 stood rebuked and silenced, impetuous words trembling 
 on my lips, but unuttered, my glance wandering from 
 her face out into the surrounding night. 
 
 "You understand now, Monsieur?" 
 
 " Yes," I answered, shortly enough, for I was hurt. 
 " We are merely allies against these outlaws. That is 
 your meaning, is it not? " 
 
 " Yes," very quietly. " I wished you to know." 
 
 The two Hollanders were sitting on the ground be- 
 hind us, growling eagerly into each other's ears. In 
 front was the open clearing, with the dim outline of 
 the log house beyond. There was no appearance of light 
 in the sky overhead, studded with stars, and yet it 
 seemed to me as though objects about began to show 
 more distinctly. Her eyes, however, were keener than 
 mine. 
 
 " The scout is coming back, Monsieur," she whis- 
 pered, pointing forward. " See, to the left of the 
 house." 
 
 He approached us noiselessly enough, yet with no 
 effort at concealment. 
 
 " They have not crossed to the island yet," he re- 
 ported, "but are opposite, concealed in the woods. 
 
 [180]
 
 We Regain the House 
 
 There would be no chance to get away. They know 
 that, and are simply waiting daylight to close in. I 
 was as far as the shore of the lake." 
 
 " The house then offers our only possibility of de- 
 fense?" 
 
 " There is no other protection, sir." 
 
 " Then we fight it out there. Bring the packs, 
 men. No, Mademoiselle, I will carry that. Lead off, 
 Brady." 
 
 The interior was exactly as we left it, a few red em- 
 bers on the hearth alone shedding spectral light about 
 the main room, as we groped our way forward. There 
 were heavy wooden bars to fit across the doors, and I 
 secured these as soon as I deposited my pack on the 
 floor. 
 
 " Mademoiselle," I said, staring about at the blank 
 walls in some perplexity. " You know this place better 
 than any of us; surely it was not erected here in the 
 wilderness without some provision for defense in case 
 of attack. Are those walls solid ? " 
 
 " No, Monsieur ; they were made tight, so no gleam 
 of light would ever show without, but there are gun- 
 ports here see." 
 
 She slipped aside a small wooden shutter, fitted in- 
 geniously between the logs, revealing an opening suf- 
 ficient for a rifle barrel. 
 
 [181]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " There are four along this wall, and as many oppo- 
 site. At the rear you must stand on the bench, so as to 
 fire above the shed roof." 
 
 " Leave that preacher alone, and open them up, 
 Schultz," I commanded sharply. " There is not light 
 enough here now to show without. Now, Brady, see if 
 there are any extra guns in the shack, or ammunition. 
 Lay everything out here convenient. A rifle? good! 
 We '11 give that to our Moravian friend ; he may be op- 
 posed to war on principle, but, by all the gods ! he '11 
 fight now, if Schultz can pound the truth into him. 
 What is that, Mademoiselle? Powder and ball in the 
 big chest ; show Brady where it is. This is n't going to 
 be such a one-sided affair after all. Five of us, counting 
 Block, who may not know which end of the gun to 
 point." 
 
 I looked across at the man sitting dejectedly on the 
 bench, his long, thin face buried in his hands, but his 
 eyes constantly following the movements of the girl as 
 though fascinated. 
 
 " Schultz," I said, thrusting a weapon into his hands. 
 " Teach your friend how to load this ; tell him I '11 skin 
 him alive unless he does what he 's told. A preacher ! 
 well what do I care for that? You go, and do what I 
 say." 
 
 He moved forward to his task reluctantly enough, 
 [182]
 
 We Regain the House 
 
 but I had other things in mind, and paid small attention 
 to what occurred between them. Brady and his assist- 
 ant were busily engaged. I picked up my rifle and 
 looked to its priming carefully ; then lifted the bar pro- 
 tecting the front entrance. 
 
 " I am going to scout outside," I announced, " and 
 see when those fellows cross over." 
 
 Brady shaded his eyes to stare across at me through 
 the gloom. 
 
 " You 'd better let me go." 
 
 " No ; I '11 try it alone ; get everything ready, and 
 leave the bar down." 
 
 "You will be careful, Monsieur?" There was an 
 unconcealed note of anxiety in the voice that caused me 
 to glance back at her quickly in surprise. 
 
 " Be assured of that, Mademoiselle," I returned. " I 
 know the duty of an ally," and stepped without, closing 
 the door behind me. 
 
 [183]
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 I FIGHT A RED-COAT 
 
 A SINGLE glance about assured me that daybreak 
 was approaching. The stars were paling over- 
 head, and there was already a barely perceptible tinge 
 of light to the atmosphere; I could see the tracery of 
 limbs along the border of the surrounding forest, and 
 the short grass blades underfoot. Yet it was dark 
 enough still to give concealment, and I ran hastily for- 
 ward to the edge of the woods where the gloom held as 
 dense as ever. I waited there a moment listening, 
 crouched against the trunk of a great tree, my heart 
 thumping so hard I could hear it in the silence. The 
 house in the center of the clearing appeared black, de- 
 serted. The fire embers emitted no light through the 
 small gun ports, and no smoke spirals appeared above 
 the chimney. 
 
 Convinced that my coming had not been perceived, 
 and that no Indian scouts were watching the cabin, I 
 pressed forward into the depths of the woods, obliged 
 to proceed slowly because of the darkness. So cautious 
 was I, lest some noise might betray my presence, that I 
 was some moments in passing through the fringe of 
 
 [185]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 trees to where I could obtain view of the lake, and the 
 dark line of shore opposite. 
 
 I emerged somewhat to the right of the ford, and 
 crept out between the roots of a big tree overhanging 
 the water, from which point of vantage I could see in 
 every direction. It was not light, yet a slight radiance 
 from the slowly brightening sky found faint reflection 
 along the surface of the lake so that objects were dis- 
 cernible to eyes trained by the long night vigils. Things 
 appeared out of proportion, grotesque, yet I could dis- 
 tinguish any movement, even at some considerable dis- 
 tance. Nothing, however, appeared within range of 
 vision to suggest human life ; the wooded shore opposite 
 remained silent, and seemingly unoccupied. That In- 
 dians were there, securely hidden in the coverts, hoping 
 to trap us in an effort at escape, was altogether beyond 
 question. They would wait there in silence until day- 
 light, hopeful that we would endeavor to escape, and 
 thus wander into their ambuscade. If we failed to ap- 
 pear then they would cross to the island and attack 
 us. That was Indian strategy, to rely upon surprise 
 rather than numbers; treachery in preference to open 
 warfare. 
 
 To better satisfy myself that none had already 
 crossed, I moved slowly along the bank, under conceal- 
 ment of the trees, seeking the imprint of feet on the 
 
 [186]
 
 / Fight a Red-Coat 
 
 soft earth. I had advanced thus for perhaps a hun- 
 dred yards, passing beyond where we had attained land 
 the evening before, when I suddenly came to a halt, 
 sinking to my knees, and staring forward across a 
 slight opening In the forest growth. At first I was not 
 sure that what I saw was actually a man, but as the 
 object moved toward me, all doubt vanished. He was 
 not only a man, but a white man; at least he was not 
 clothed as an Indian ; and, as he stepped forth into the 
 open, more clearly revealed for an instant, I could 
 have sworn that he wore a uniform coat, with buttons 
 that gleamed dully in the twilight. He looked a giant, 
 a great, hulking outline, but stepped lightly enough, 
 not the slightest sound betraying his cat-like move- 
 ments as he came steadily onward, with head bent for- 
 ward, his rifle advanced. I felt sure of his identity 
 almost at once; surely he could be no other than the 
 British agent, whom Mademoiselle held guilty of her 
 father's murder, the man who masqueraded under my 
 own name. I felt my blood grow hot with anger. He 
 would pass within a yard of me; he was alone, seeking 
 his way, endeavoring to plan how he should lead his 
 savages to an assault. If I could get him it would be 
 half the battle. 
 
 I rose silently to my feet, hidden behind the trunk of 
 a tree, and waited, gripping my long rifle by its bar- 
 
 [187]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 rel. I had no wish to fire, because of the alarm. In- 
 dians were on the other shore waiting a signal; there 
 might even be others scouting these woods. A shot 
 would bring them upon us, possibly before I could es- 
 cape; my passage back to the house might be blocked. 
 Besides I felt no fear of the fellow if we once came to 
 hand-grips. Big as he was I knew the game, and had 
 confidence in my strength and skill; then I possessed 
 the advantage of surprise I could strike before the 
 man even realized his danger. 
 
 I watched him closely, peering about the smooth bark 
 of the tree, one foot advanced ready for a spring. 
 He came on cautiously as an Indian, not even rustling 
 the leaves as he passed, and paused, every step or two, 
 to listen for some warning noise. His actions proved 
 that he possessed no knowledge of our movements, or 
 plans ; that he feared no encounter. It occurred to me 
 that he might be ignorant of our number ; that his pres- 
 ent purpose was to find out how many we were. He 
 crossed the open space, drawing closer to me at every 
 step, yet his head was bent forward concealing his 
 face. With one hand he parted the fringe of bushes, 
 and stepped into their cover. He was in the dark now, 
 a mere ill-defined shadow, yet so close I could have 
 touched him with my gun barrel. Some instinct of 
 wild life must have told him of my presence, for he 
 
 [188]
 
 / Fight a Red-Coat 
 
 stopped still, peering about suspiciously, his rifle flung 
 forward. I dared not delay, yet swift as I was, 
 his quick eye caught my movement. The gun butt 
 swinging through the air met his rifle barrel, slid along 
 the steel, and struck a glancing blow. He reeled back, 
 dazed, half stunned, dropping his own weapon, yet 
 seizing the muzzle of mine to keep from falling. I 
 endeavored to jerk it free, but he hung to it desperately. 
 Scarce knowing how it was done, we were together, 
 grappling each other, the disputed gun kicked aside 
 under our feet. 
 
 He swore once, a mad English oath, but I choked it 
 back, clutching his throat in iron grip, straining to 
 force him to the fulcrum of my knee. Then he found 
 grasp of my hair, hurling my head back until the agony 
 compelled me to let go. I struck him square in the 
 face, a blow that would have dropped an ordinary man, 
 but he only snarled, and closed in, grappling my wrist 
 with one hand, the other fumbling for a knife at his 
 belL By God's mercy I got it first; yet could not 
 strike, for he had me foul, gripped to him as if held in 
 a vise. I could feel the muscles of his chest, the strain- 
 ing sinews of his arms as they crushed me. I gave back, 
 down, my limbs trembling beneath the force with which 
 he flung the whole weight of his body against mine. I 
 had met my match, and I knew it. Yet the knowledge 
 
 [189]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 gave me fresh strength, fiercer determination. The 
 very conception of defeat crazed me ; my brain held no 
 thought save a mad impulse to conquer him, show him 
 who was the better man ! 
 
 I wrenched aside, breaking that strangle-hold by 
 sheer strength and wrestling skill. Again we gripped, 
 face to face, our muscles straining as we sought advan- 
 tage of hold. My hunting shirt gave, tearing apart like 
 brown paper, giving me a scant second as his grasp 
 slipped. It was enough, I had him locked at my hip; 
 yet strain as I would his weight baffled every effort. 
 Back and forth we struggled, crushing the bushes under- 
 foot, our breath coming in sobs, every muscle aching 
 under the awful strain. Neither dared loosen a finger 
 grip. Our eyes glared into each other with savage 
 hate. How it would have ended God knows, had the 
 fellow not slipped on a brush root, so that the added 
 weight of my body flung him headlong. Even as he 
 went over, bearing me along with him, his head crash- 
 ing into the side of a tree as he fell, his lips gave vent to 
 one wild cry. Then he lay still, motionless, a huge 
 black shape outstretched on the ground in the ghastly 
 light of dawn. 
 
 I got to my knees, scarcely realizing what had hap- 
 pened, peering down into the upturned face, one hand 
 raised to strike if the man moved. There was not a 
 
 [190]
 
 I Fight a Red-Coat 
 
 motion. I bent lower the eyes were closed, blood 
 dripped from the hair. I turned the head, so as to bet- 
 ter perceive the features surely this was not the man 
 for whom I had been mistaken ! He was big enough, 
 but marked by dissipation, and wore a black moustache. 
 As I live there was not a resemblance. Who was he 
 then? I got to my feet and searched out my rifle in 
 the tangled brush. Some noise reached me the splash 
 of water, the echo of a far-off voice. They were com- 
 ing, the Indians ; they had heard his last cry ; they 
 were already crossing the ford. I hesitated an instant, 
 staring down at him, listening intently that I might be 
 sure, then turned and ran swiftly toward the clearing. 
 It was already gray dawn, and even in the dense woods 
 I could see to avoid the trees. Behind me rang out a 
 wild whoop of savagery ; they had discovered the body ! 
 I glanced back across my shoulder, as I ran; burst 
 forth into the clearing, and, reckless of all else, raced 
 for the house. I fell once, my foot slipping on a hum- 
 mock, but was up instantly, plunged at the door, and 
 leaped within. Brady caught me, thrust the wooden 
 bars down into their sockets, and half dragged me over 
 to the bench. 
 
 " What is it? are they coming? " he asked. 
 
 It was darker in there than outside, and I could 
 barely perceive his face. 
 
 [191]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " Yes," I panted. " They are just behind me. I 
 I had to run for it. Get get to the stations ; I '11 
 I '11 tell you later what happened out there." 
 
 He left me, and my eyes, accustoming themselves to 
 the gloom, began to discern objects in the room. I got 
 to my feet, still breathing heavily from exhaustion, yet 
 with brain active. Brady was close beside me, kneeling 
 on the floor, his eye at an opening between the logs. 
 
 " See anything? " 
 
 " There are figures moving at the edge of the wood," 
 he answered, without glancing around, " but they don't 
 come out so I can tell what they look like. The way 
 your clothes are torn you must have had a fight? " 
 
 " I did with the big fellow in a red j acket. He 's 
 lying out there with a cracked skull. That is why 
 those fellows do n't know what to do they 're short a 
 leader." 
 
 I got to my feet, and stared about, seeking Made- 
 moiselle. She was beyond the table, and our eyes met. 
 
 "You you killed him, Monsieur?" 
 
 " I do not know ; I threw him, his head struck against 
 a tree, and he lay still. I had to run ; only he was not 
 your man, Mademoiselle ; he looked no more like me than 
 you do." 
 
 " You you are sure ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I saw his face. It was lighter out there, and 
 [192]
 
 I Fight a Red-Coat 
 
 he lay flat on his back. He was big enough, if anything 
 larger even than I am, and gave me a fight for it until 
 his foot slipped. He had black hair and moustache, 
 and his face was full of purple veins. He looked French 
 to me." 
 
 " Yet wore a red coat ? " 
 
 " Ay ! and swore in English, the one oath I heard. 
 You know anyone like that ? " 
 
 There was a shot without, and the chug of a ball as it 
 struck against the logs; then another, and Brady's 
 voice tense with strain: 
 
 " They 're goin' to try it, an' ther 's sure some 
 Injuns out ther; the whol' edge o' the woods is alive 
 with 'em. Get ready now! This ain't goin' ter be no 
 slouch o' a fight." 
 
 I sprang across to the nearest opening, yet stopped 
 to be sure of the arrangement within. The gray light 
 stealing in through the small firing holes failed to give 
 distinct view across the room. 
 
 " Where are you, Schultz ? " 
 
 " Here mit der front." 
 
 " Oh, all right ; what has become of your friend ? " 
 
 " He vas to load ; he do dot, but not fight. Maybe 
 dot help some, do n't it? " 
 
 I saw the man then, his white face showing dimly, 
 and before him three rifles lying across the table. 
 
 [193]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " You found more guns ? " 
 
 Brady glanced aside to answer. 
 
 " The girl did ; she knew where they were ah ! now 
 the rumpus has begun ! " 
 
 Reports, blending almost into a volley, sounded 
 without, the thud of lead striking the logs in dull echo. 
 One stray ball found entrance, splintered an edge of 
 the bench, and flattened out against the stone chimney. 
 I dropped to one knee, my eyes at the opening. 
 
 [104]
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 WE MEET THEM WITH RIFLES 
 
 Q^MALL as my peek hole was, just large enough 
 ^"^ to admit a rifle barrel, it yet afforded clear view to 
 east and south of the house. The gray, pallid light of 
 early dawn enabled me to see across the clearing, and 
 into the edge of the surrounding forest. The Indians 
 had not yet broken from cover, but were hovering 
 among the trees, occasionally firing at the house, but 
 careful not to expose themselves. I could perceive dark 
 forms flitting about, more like shadows than flesh and 
 blood, gliding from tree to tree. The constant move- 
 ment gave me the impression of force, and caused me 
 to believe they contemplated an open attack. No doubt 
 our silence puzzled, for while they were assured of our 
 presence, they possessed no real knowledge as to our 
 numbers, or how well we were armed. Yet, even at 
 that, they must be aware that we were only a small 
 party ; this could have been ascertained from our trail, 
 and the Englishman no doubt had partial view of us 
 when he stole back after his coat. Their delay and 
 hesitation was probably mere Indian caution; besides 
 they were of different tribes, possibly without leader- 
 
 [195]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 ship since my combat with that white renegade. Yet, 
 merciful God! there were enough of them! They could 
 crush us easily if they only dared. It was mystery that 
 held them back the grim look of the dark, silent 
 cabin, the big log walls, the loopholes invisible, the 
 uncertainty of what hid behind. Our failure to reply 
 to their volleys gave no encouragement; they had 
 learned to respect the rifles of white men, and dreaded 
 to stir up a hornet's nest. 
 
 As I gazed, striving to determine what the various 
 movements meant, and from which direction to antici- 
 pate final attack, an Indian crept out into the open, 
 crawling on his stomach like a snake through the grass. 
 Others followed, until a dozen wriggling forms began 
 to advance inch by inch, hugging the ground so closely 
 I could scarcely perceive their movement. I heard a 
 slight sound within, as Brady quietly thrust forward 
 his rifle. 
 
 " Wait a moment," I called to him, not venturing to 
 glance about, but holding up one hand in warning, " it 
 is a long shot yet, and we must make every one tell. 
 Wait until the first fellow is half across ; then pick your 
 man. Who is at the loophole beyond us ? " 
 
 " It is I, Monsieur." 
 
 " You, Mademoiselle ! Hadn't you better let Schultz 
 take that place ? " 
 
 I 196]
 
 We Meet Them with Rifles 
 
 " An' why, Monsieur? " the soft voice coolly indig- 
 nant. ** Am I afraid? Am I unable to shoot? Why 
 should I not stay ? " 
 
 " Those are Indians," I began, " I thought " 
 
 " Bah ! my people ! those robbers and cowards. I 
 told you there is no Wyandot among them. You will 
 see, Monsieur." 
 
 " All right then. I take that first one, and you pick 
 the two to the left. Fire when I give the word. Schultz 
 lay out one of those extra guns beside each of us. 
 Ready now; the fellows who are not hit will jump and 
 run for the woods as soon as we fire; give them a sec- 
 ond shot before they can reach cover." 
 
 The one in advance, whom I had picked for a shot, 
 had on a war-bonnet, the feathers plainly visible above 
 the grass, making it easier for me to mark his progress. 
 The others slightly behind were not so easily dis- 
 tinguished, yet I was certain there were no more than a 
 dozen altogether in the party, and we were being ap- 
 proached from no other direction. The apparently 
 solid walls of log, windowless, had doubtless inspired the 
 warriors with hope of crawling up unobserved. Once 
 close in they would be safe enough, and could creep 
 around to the door. Back in the forest shadow the main 
 body clustered, waiting the success of this effort, to rush 
 forward and storm their way within. 
 
 [197]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 Never before had I realized how stealthily an Indian 
 can move on such mission ; with what ingenuity he can 
 find concealment. They must have drawn themselves 
 forward by grasping the tough grass roots, for no head 
 was uplifted, no raised arm visible. Only the slight 
 disturbance of the grass made me certain as to their 
 stealthy advance. The feathers of the war-bonnet, 
 worn possibly as a guidance to those behind, were alone 
 conspicuous. They came on slowly, cautiously. Half 
 way across the clearing was the white stump of a fallen 
 tree. The war-bonnet made directly for this, and, once 
 partially sheltered, lifted his head to glance back. I 
 covered him with the sight of my rifle. 
 
 " Ready now ! " I commanded sharply. " Let them 
 have it fire ! " 
 
 The three guns spoke as one, the smoke of their dis- 
 charge for an instant blotting out the scene, yet not 
 before I saw war-bonnet crumple up beside the stump, 
 and a warrior just behind him leap into the air with 
 both arms flung out. I gripped the fresh gun beside me, 
 and fired again into a huddle of fleeing figures, hearing 
 the sharp crack of the two others, as the blue smoke 
 blew back into my eyes. One Indian fell forward claw- 
 ing at the ground; another staggered wildly, yet kept 
 his feet. A chorus of yells rent the air, and the flee- 
 ing forms vanished into the fringe of woods. A fusillade 
 
 [198]
 
 We Meet Them with Rifles 
 
 of bullets chugged harmlessly into the protecting logs, 
 blue puffs of smoke rising between the distant trees, but 
 nothing remained visible for us to fire at. 
 
 The cabin was dense with powder smoke, which found 
 no outlet except up the chimney. The preacher on his 
 knees was busily loading our discarded guns, and pray- 
 ing fervently as did so. I could see the movement of 
 his lips, and hear the monotonous muttering of his voice. 
 Brady straightened up, wiping the perspiration from 
 his forehead with his sleeve. As his gray eyes met mine 
 through the circling smoke, they smiled cheerily. 
 
 " We made our mark that time, Master Hayward," 
 he said grimly, loading his own rifle. " Although our 
 preacher friend gave me an overcharge of powder. 
 There's one Injun out there who ought to be grateful 
 for it. I counted five down, an' the fellow I winged 
 won't fight again today." 
 
 " Five killed ! " 
 
 " Ay ! the girl got her share. You have some skill 
 with a rifle, Mademoiselle." 
 
 She picked up one of the newly loaded guns, laying 
 down her own upon the bench, her eyes meeting his 
 frankly, and then turning to my face. I thought I 
 read in their depths a regret, as though she doubted my 
 approval. 
 
 " It is not pleasant to take human life, Monsieur," 
 [199]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 she answered softly. " I am not Indian enough to love 
 bloodshed. But but this was justified, and so I 
 aimed true." 
 
 " We are grateful, not critical," I made haste to say. 
 " We are fighting for our lives. Think you they have 
 had enough, Brady? " 
 
 The scout shook his head, leaning forward to glance 
 again out of his loop-hole. 
 
 " Not if I know Injuns. Did yer hear that yell? 
 They 're mad now, an' crazy for revenge ; only they '11 
 be more cautious next time ; ain't that it, Miss ? " 
 
 " It depends upon who leads them," she answered 
 slowly. " They can be reckless enough if urged to it. I 
 think the next attack will be open." 
 
 " Because of white leadership? " 
 
 " Partially yes, Monsieur. You did not think the 
 Englishman killed." 
 
 " No ; only stunned. I had no time to make sure, bub 
 he merely fell against the tree; it was no blow suf- 
 ficient to kill a man." 
 
 " And there are other reasons," she went on, glancing 
 toward Brady who was still gazing without earnestly. 
 " They will be savage for revenge, and they know how 
 few are defending the house. Beyond doubt they have 
 already discovered your trail on the other shore; our 
 firing from three loop-holes will serve to convince them 
 
 [200]
 
 We Meet Them with Rifles 
 
 that only the three are here; they know nothing of 
 where I am, or where the preacher went." 
 
 " He will not help us much." 
 
 She looked at him, smiling at his long-drawn lugu- 
 brious face. 
 
 " Hclas! not much of a warrior." Her words broken 
 from excitement. " Never before did I meet such a 
 white man. Why he pray so, all the time, Monsieur? " 
 
 " Afraid to die, I reckon." 
 
 " 'T is droll ; an' yet he think he go to Heaven ? It 
 should make him glad; was it not so? And he not 
 believe to fight ? It was in my Bible to fight, most every 
 page. We have the same Bible ; how he find in it what 
 I not find? different as what the priests teach? " 
 
 " Do not ask me," I replied, amused by her earnest- 
 ness. " Perhaps he can tell ; he looks as if it would be a 
 great relief to preach you a sermon." 
 
 " Him ! he cannot talk no ! he only grunt houf, 
 houf, like a pig. I know nothing he say. Why you 
 suppose the man look at me like that. Monsieur? He 
 think me maybe a savage, a mad woman? " 
 
 I laughed at the expression on her face as she looked 
 toward him. To me he was simply a wild-eyed zealot, 
 half crazed by religious frenzy, with only one idea float- 
 ing about in his cracked brain. 
 
 " No doubt you appear as strange to him as he does 
 [201]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 to you. There is nothing in common between you, 
 either in religion or race. You represent to his mind 
 all that is evil in the world. You are of French blood, 
 a papist, a consorter with savages everything he has 
 been taught to despise from childhood. Could the poor 
 fellow speak either your language or mine, we would 
 have a denunciation breathing of hell fire. 'T is God's 
 mercy we are spared." 
 
 She laughed, her eyes dancing with sudden gleam of 
 mischief. 
 
 " He hate me the man ? He hold it evil that I 
 make prayer with the rosary? " and her hands fingered 
 the beads at her throat. " I show him, I tell him, 
 what the Bible tell me. Monsieur Schultz, you will 
 interpret here." 
 
 The soldier turned at the sound of his name, and 
 crossed the room in response to her gesture. All eager- 
 ness, her fingers clasped his arm, her voice speaking 
 swiftly, yet tripping oddly over unfamiliar words : 
 
 " Monsieur, you talk the Dutch, the English, but not 
 the French is it not so ? Ver' good ! I tell you in 
 the English vot I am ; how I pray the good God ; how I 
 believe, an' you tell it to him vat I say in the Dutch. 
 You hear, you understand, Monsieur ? " 
 
 Schultz's round, good-humored face, plainly exhibit- 
 ing his bewilderment, turned questioningly toward me.
 
 We Meet Them with Rifles 
 
 The girl noting his hesitancy, shook her head, and gave 
 utterance to a French exclamation. 
 
 " She wishes to explain the nature of her religion to 
 your friend over there," I said slowly. " She asks you 
 to listen to what she says, and then translate her words 
 into your own language." 
 
 "To him, mit mine tongue Mynheer Block? Gott 
 mit Himmel! dot vould do no good. He dink her der 
 child ov der tevil! he stop up his ears mit both hands 
 see, like dot. But I tol' him; I say to him just vot 
 she say, only she talk slow, so I hear der words better." 
 
 He sat down on the bench, rifle between his knees, his 
 blue eyes on her face, patiently waiting. The perplexed 
 preacher never moved, never relaxed his stern features, 
 staring at the two of them, as if already suspicioning 
 their purpose. Mademoiselle made a little gesture with 
 her hands, and began to speak, but almost with her first 
 word, the deep voice of Block interrupted. Schultz, his 
 troubled eyes wandering from face to face, answered by 
 a grumbling sentence, then reverted into English: 
 
 " He vant to know vat it all vos. Maybe I told him 
 furst, don't it? " 
 
 " Out, out! you say it to him." 
 
 Schultz started bravely enough, one hand laid heavily 
 on the preacher's shoulder, as though to hold him 
 steady, slowly ejaculating the message in Dutch, I 
 
 [203]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 saw the expression of bewilderment upon Block's face 
 turn to horror. With uplifted hands he suddenly gave 
 tongue, the words tripping over each other. It was all 
 Schultz could do to stop him, but at last the fellow sank 
 back against the table, breathing heavily. The soldier 
 wiped the perspiration from his red face, still eyeing 
 his countryman. 
 
 " I vos mad mit a religion like dot," he exclaimed 
 fervently. " I not told you vot he said ; he go crazy, 
 an' make me mad; he say dos dings I not vould told 
 you. But he leesen now. I tell him I kill him, here, 
 now, mit dis gun, if he not keep still. Mein Gott! I 
 vos just as good Dutcher as dot man. Why he call me 
 son of Belial hey ? I tinks he keep still now, or I 
 shoke him gut ; he find out vot son I am maybe yes. 
 You talk mit me, an* I told him. If dot fellow don't 
 shut up quick mit his mouth I smash it. Vat do I care 
 vot he vos ! Vy he calls me dot hey ! " 
 
 As he ceased from sheer lack of breath, she began to 
 speak. I heard the first few words, earnest, plead- 
 ing. She was very serious, apparently she saw noth- 
 ing in the scene to amuse any one, her whole mind con- 
 centrated on bringing to these men some measure of her 
 own faith. She was the missionary, forgetful of all 
 else, even the peril in which we were, in her awakened 
 eagerness to tell again the story of the Cross. Her 
 
 [204]
 
 We Meet Them with Rifles 
 
 face brightened, her eyes darkened ; there was about her 
 a strange new dignity, as of one speaking by authority. 
 Somehow as I stood there looking at her, listening to her 
 broken words, watching the changing expression on her 
 face, the flush on her cheeks, as she paused to permit the 
 soldier to slowly translate, her lips parted with eager- 
 ness to proceed, she was no longer a girl, a wild thing of 
 the woods, bubbling over with animal life, but a woman, 
 earnest, sincere ; one to be loved and trusted one to 
 be true to the death. I had forgotten also as I stood 
 there, looking and listening, the memory of where we 
 were. The dark forests, the savages hemming us in, the 
 desperate situation almost without hope, vanished. For 
 the instant I thought only of her, heard only her voice. 
 Yet it was merely for the instant. I have no recol- 
 lection now of a word she uttered. It was not so much 
 what was spoken as the manner, the reverence of voice, 
 the sincerity of face and expression. She had uncon- 
 sciously revealed herself. In her eagerness to defend 
 her religion, to bring her own faith to others, she had 
 given me a glimpse of her very soul. Hereafter she 
 might laugh and play, her eyes dance with merrimert, 
 but I knew now what was beneath the heart of a 
 woman. Then, as though aroused from a dream to the 
 reality of life, I heard my name called. It was Brady, 
 glancing about from his loop-hole, and motioning me 
 
 [205 ]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 with his hand. I crossed hurriedly to join him, again 
 the soldier. 
 
 " What is it ? Can you guess what they mean 
 to do?" 
 
 " No, but they seem to be forming there to the right; 
 bend down here; see, back among those trees. Ay! 
 and your red-coat is among the devils, I 've caught 
 glimpse of him twice." 
 
 [ 206 ]
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 WITHIN THE CABIN 
 
 \\ 7TTH eye held close against the opening I pos- 
 sessed a sight of the full length of the clearing. 
 It was bright daylight now, although the sun had not 
 appeared above the trees, and the eye could not pene- 
 trate far into the darker shadows of the wood. The 
 clearing itself was deserted, but the dead Indians lay 
 where they had fallen, no effort having been made to re- 
 cover the bodies. They were well within rifle shot from 
 the house, and those who had been fortunate enough to 
 escape our fusillade, were sufficiently impressed with 
 the fact that we were not wasting powder and ball. To 
 venture into that clearing plainly meant death. The 
 dead could wait for darkness, or until the living had 
 achieved revenge. 
 
 I grasped the situation in a glance. Brady moved 
 to the next loop-hole, and knelt down. Behind me I 
 heard the rumble of Schultz's voice as he translated 
 slowly, carefully Mademoiselle's broken English, but my 
 mind was concentrated now on other things. Opposite 
 me I could distinguish an Indian or two, skulking in the 
 tree shadows, well out of range sentries, no doubt, 
 
 [207]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 stationed to guard against any possibility of our escape. 
 Yes, and there were others also along the fringe of 
 forest to the left, although only occasionally did a half 
 naked form flit into view. The only place, however, 
 where there was any evidence of numbers, was well to 
 the right. What was going on there was not altogether 
 clear, as my eyes failed to penetrate the thick growth 
 of trees. But there was movement, and enough was 
 revealed to convince me that there was being gathered 
 the main body of our besiegers. They were either in 
 council, or else massing for an attack. Yet it was not 
 at all likely that a council would be held so close, almost, 
 if not quite within rifle shot. The other supposition 
 was far the more probable. Indeed, as I stared at the 
 dimly revealed figures, clustered together, or moving 
 swiftly about, this impression deepened. They were 
 forming for assault, for a swift rush forward, trusting 
 that the suddenness of their attack would put them 
 across that open space without great danger. They had 
 tried stealth and failed ; now they would try recklessness. 
 The very choice was evidence of white leadership. An 
 Indian leader would be patient and wait for darkness to 
 creep up unseen, or plan to starve us into surrender. 
 Only a white man, eager and dominant, would thus risk 
 lives in open assault. 
 
 It occurred to me they were unaware that we could 
 [208]
 
 Within the Cabin 
 
 perceive their preparation. They had no thought of 
 exposing themselves until they burst forth from cover, 
 yelling in the fierce charge. It was, indeed, only a stray 
 ray of sunlight penetrating through the leafy covert, 
 which afforded us a glimpse. We could see but little, 
 merely enough to stimulate suspicion a sense of num- 
 bers, figures moving about restlessly, coming and going 
 across that revealing shaft of sunshine ; ay ! and once 
 I caught the sudden glow of a red coat. More, the 
 place of gathering told its own story. Here a point of 
 woodland pressed out into the clearing a bit nearer to 
 the house than anywhere else. It shortened the distance 
 of exposure by several yards, and besides faced the 
 corner of the hut, thus interfering with direct fire from 
 within. Master Red-Coat knew his business 't was a 
 pity I had failed to kill him. 
 
 " What do you make of it, Brady ? " I asked. " Are 
 they going to rush us ? " 
 
 " Ay ! " quietly enough, but without turning his head, 
 "and soon. The guards are joining those others now. 
 They are getting into line already; Red-Coat is flying 
 about giving orders like a field marshal. Lord ! I wish 
 he would come out into the open, where I could get a 
 shot at him, the coward ! " he glanced about, for the 
 moment losing his temper. " What are those two Dutch 
 fools jabbering away about back there? " 
 
 [209]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " Mademoiselle is explaining her religion." 
 
 " Huh ! they '11 know which one is right soon enough, 
 I reckon, without all that palaver. Here you, Schultz, 
 pick up your rifle, man, and go back to your loop-hole. 
 Break up the meeting, Hayward. There 's plenty for 
 all of us to do besides talk." 
 
 Apparently neither man heard him, for both were 
 talking together, rolling out their interminable sen- 
 tences. Schultz was red with wrath, pounding on the 
 table with one huge hand, but the preacher's face was 
 white as chalk, his eyes blazing. Mademoiselle, helpless 
 in midst of all this turmoil which she had so innocently 
 started, stood back of the bench, staring at the two 
 debaters, with lips parted, breathless, and unable to get 
 in a word. Her bewilderment was apparent, nor could 
 she conceive what had caused all this commotion, this 
 thrashing of arms, and loud declamation. Brady strode 
 forward, a fighting look on his face, and gripped Schultz 
 by the shoulder, swinging him half across the room. 
 
 " Maybe you '11 hear me now, you Dutch nuisance," 
 he growled fiercely. " Pick up the gun, and get back 
 to your place ; and as for you Mister, you '11 wait until 
 you get out of here to do your preaching. Oh! you 
 do n't know what I say, hey ? Come back here, 
 Schultz, and tell him tell him what I say ; tell him 
 we '11 be fighting for life in five minutes, and if he does n't 
 
 [10]
 
 Within the Cabin 
 
 keep those guns loaded and ready, this is goin' to be his 
 last day on earth. You say that to him, an' say it 
 strong ; put it in Dutch so it blisters. What J s that, 
 Miss? Yes, them cusses is gittin' ready now, out thar' 
 at the edge of the patch ; nigh a hundred, I reckon from 
 what little I kin see." 
 
 " Where do you want me ? " 
 
 " Here where I am," I broke in quickly, and caught 
 her hand in mine. " See ! they are coming from that 
 corner. You can cover the field from this loop-hole 
 until they near the house. The assault will be in front : 
 an effort to break in the door, Mademoiselle." 
 
 Something in my voice, low, spoken only for her ear, 
 caused her to glance up into my face. 
 
 "What is it, Monsieur?" 
 
 " You will stay here ; you will not attempt to come 
 to us if the Indians succeed in breaking down the door. 
 I must have your promise." 
 
 " Why do you ask that? " 
 
 " Because such a sacrifice of your life would be un- 
 necessary, and would avail nothing. Those savages will 
 not injure you ; they will suppose you were our prisoner. 
 They know you as a Wyandot; at least the Ojibwas 
 and Miamis do, and will protect you from the Shawnees. 
 You have done all possible to help us ; but I beg you to 
 keep back when it comes hand to hand."
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " But could I not help you even more by facing those 
 warriors alone? " she insisted. " They know me; they 
 will listen. Even those Shawnees have heard my name, 
 it is spoken in their villages. Not one of them would 
 lay hand on Running Water. Let me go out there, now, 
 Monsieur, and tell them your mission is peace." 
 
 " Mademoiselle," I said soberly, " we are too late for 
 that. There are five dead warriors lying out there, 
 shot by our rifles. It is not in Indian nature to forgive. 
 Nothing is left us but to fight. No words of yours 
 could control those wild beasts, thirsting for revenge. 
 Aim I not right?" 
 
 Her eyes fell, hidden behind long lashes. 
 
 " I I do not know," she admitted f alteringly. 
 " But but there is a chance. I could try ; if I was 
 only sure of that white man." 
 
 " Ay ! but you are not sure, except that he is probably 
 a murderer and renegade. Such as he are worse sav- 
 ages than any of red skin; they are traitors to their 
 own race, cruel and merciless. No! I will not permit 
 such an attempt. Even if they met you with open 
 hands, it would be but a mask to treachery. It is bet- 
 ter that we fight it out like men. Only you must prom- 
 ise me what I ask ! " 
 
 "Must, Monsieur?" 
 
 " The word was ill-chosen I beg the pledge. I ask 
 [212]
 
 Within the Cabin 
 
 it as a man appealing to a woman. That is what you 
 are to me, Mademoiselle a woman ; a woman to be 
 protected, sacrificed for, loved. I had forgotten that 
 there is a drop of Indian blood in your veins. Yet now 
 I am glad there is it will save you from outrage and 
 death. I am glad for another reason it will enable 
 you to understand what I mean." 
 
 She was looking at me now gravely, her dark eyes 
 wide open. 
 
 " You mean that the French and Indian combined 
 will understand, Monsieur?" she questioned. "You 
 wish to fight with free hands, with no thought of danger 
 coming to me? " 
 
 " Yes, but that is not all. I cannot bear the thought 
 of your being caught in the ruck, if those devils break 
 through." 
 
 She took my hand in both her own, the rifle against 
 her shoulder. 
 
 " Monsieur, I know," she said slowly. " It is you 
 would have me a woman ; that I let the men fight for me. 
 You would think of me so: as one of your race, what 
 you call the gentle. Have I not the thought right? " 
 
 I bowed, making some answer. 
 
 " You would remember me like that ; I would be so 
 in your mind a womari, not a savage. It would give 
 you happiness to think of me like that? " 
 
 [213]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 There was a mist like gathering tears in the uplifted 
 eyes. 
 
 " Only my father ever say that to me before," she 
 whispered softly. " He told me of those he knew in 
 France and loved : of les grandes dames who were gentle, 
 and bore our name. I tried to understand, and become 
 as he said. But it was hard, Monsieur. The Indian 
 camp teaches other things. Only from the nuns at 
 Montreal did I learn what he meant; they were gentle, 
 kind; often they shamed me. I see it most beautiful 
 then ; in their faces, in what they say to me when I do 
 right. They tell me it please Christ, an' I think so too. 
 But I forget ; back in the woods I become Indian again. 
 I see it no more, only when my father tell over his old 
 stories. I find it easy to hate, and hard to love. What 
 chance have I, Monsieur? It was always Indians where 
 I must live; only the French traders, rough men all, an' 
 the red-coats who would make love to me, an' care 
 nothing. I have not known white women ; nevaire but 
 in Montreal. So I have thought as the Indian thinks, 
 an' lived as the Indian lives. It is not my blame that I 
 grew up, Monsieur, wild, reckless, but for the faith, of 
 the dear Christ." 
 
 "But you will do as I ask now? You will be the 
 white girl, and not the Wy andot ? " 
 
 [214]
 
 Within the Cabin 
 
 " It is your wish, Monsieur ? you like me better so ? " 
 
 " Yes, Rene, I think I shall fight a better fight if you 
 promise me." 
 
 She looked at me long, as though the words hesitated 
 on her lips ; then laughed, tossing her head. 
 
 " Then I promise, Monsieur. I will do it because to 
 you it is womanly ; I I want you to think of me like 
 that a a woman. Is it not strange, Monsieur ! 
 Nevaire before, but when the nuns talked, did I care. 
 It was joy to me to be wild, to be forest born and bred, 
 to be a Wyandot. Poof! what do I care for what the 
 whites did ! They were not my people ; I despised them ; 
 they were so many fools. But Monsieur, you have not 
 been like the others ; non, non, you were deeferent. You 
 spoke to me kind, with sympathy ; you you made me 
 feel I was not just an Indian squaw. You were a man 
 like my father big, strong, good, and and you 
 care for me a little; do you not, Monsieur? " 
 
 I pressed her hands in my own how strong and 
 brown they were then, obeying some swift impulse, 
 bent and kissed them. The red flamed into her cheeks. 
 
 " It was like that they do in France, Monsieur, in 
 greeting to their fine ladies," she said shyly. " I have 
 read it in my father's books. It was better than to 
 speak, Monsieur. I care too. I care so much it make 
 me afraid." 
 
 [215]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " Not of me surely ? " 
 
 " I know not ; it might be of you, it might be of me. 
 Ah ! Mother of God ! it is the war whoop ! " 
 
 "They're comin', Hayward!" sang out Brady, a 
 sting in his voice. " For God's sake hurry ! " 
 
 I was beside him with a single leap, yet, even as I 
 sprang forward, I saw her drop to her knees, and 
 caught the gleam of her lifted rifle as she thrust its 
 barrel through the loop-hole. 
 
 [216]
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE FIGHT IN THE CABIN 
 
 TT was still, ominously so, without, after that one 
 wild, piercing cry which yet vibrated in ray ears. 
 That it was some signal I comprehended at once, and 
 my mind instantly cleared for action. Brady had his 
 eyes at the opening between the logs. 
 
 "Where is Schultz?" 
 
 " The other side the door; lay your extra gun here ; 
 hell will break loose in a minute." 
 
 I pressed back the wooden shutter, kneeling to look 
 out. For an instant, blinded by the bright light, I saw 
 nothing, then, back in the edge of the timber, I could 
 dimly distinguish the groups of savages, stripped for 
 fighting, their naked bodies gleaming. I knew little 
 then of Indian warfare, yet it occurred to me that the 
 representatives of each tribe were gathered together, 
 and I watched the war-bonnets moving from group to 
 group, as final orders were passed among them. Only 
 once did I catch a glimpse of the red jacket, as its 
 wearer stood at the foot of a huge tree, suddenly out- 
 lined by a ray of sun finding opening through the leaves 
 above. As I caught view of him, he flung up one red 
 
 [217]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 arm, a rifle grasped in his hand, and, as if it was a sig- 
 nal, voice after voice whooped in savage yell, the noise 
 blending into one fierce scream, horrible and menacing. 
 Above even this mad volume of sound there was a shout 
 of command, emphasized by the discharge of a dozen 
 guns. Then out of the smoke, springing forth into the 
 open, I saw the devils come. It was as if hell had 
 broken open and belched them forth. Leaping into the 
 air, shrieking, gesticulating, weapons uplifted, red skins 
 glinting in the sun, black hair streaming on the wind, 
 they sprang forward, racing straight across the open. 
 
 " Shawnees ! " roared Brady. " Give it to 'em ! " and 
 he pulled trigger. 
 
 Describe what followed no man could. It was pan- 
 demonium, uproar, action, no two seconds the same. I 
 fired twice, three times, leaping back to grasp a gun 
 from the bench, and groping my way through smoke. 
 My eyes smarted, perspiration streamed down my face, 
 I heard the bark of rifles, voices calling within, wild 
 echoing yells without. Over the barrel of my rifle I 
 could distinguish the naked forms of savages leaping 
 amid the smoke wreaths, stumbling, clutching at the air 
 with empty hands. Then all at once they disappeared, 
 vanished as if by magic. Smoke clung to the ground, 
 yet amid its swirls I could perceive no movement ; the 
 fierce yelling ceased. What this sudden cessation meant 
 
 [218]
 
 The Fight in the Cabin 
 
 I could not guess, but my hand reached instinctively for 
 powder and ball. Then another yell, louder, more 
 deadly with ferocity, smote my ears ; bullets chugged 
 into the logs, someone near me gave utterance to a roar 
 of pain, and blows crashed against the barred door. I 
 thrust my rifle forward a tomahawk struck the pro- 
 truding barrel as I pulled trigger, and I was flung 
 backward to the floor, blood streaming from my shoul- 
 der. I could hardly breathe in the thick smoke ; I could 
 see nothing, yet out of the babel of noise I was conscious 
 of Brady's voice yelling an order: 
 
 " The door ! barricade the door ! " 
 
 I staggered to my feet and dragged the bench for- 
 ward; someone gripped the table along with me, and 
 together we hurled it on top, our bodies holding it there. 
 I had dropped my rifle, but someone thrust another 
 into my hand. Blood streamed down into my eyes from 
 a cut on my forehead, blinding me so I saw nothing, yet 
 my fingers touched a hand. Even then I felt the thrill 
 of that contact. 
 
 " You, Rene ! Go back ! for God's sake, go back ! " 
 I sobbed breathlessly. 
 
 Just an instant she grasped me, clung to me, her 
 head pressing against my sleeve. 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur!" 
 
 Then she was gone ; I reached out for her, but she was 
 [219]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 no longer there. Tomahawks crashed into the wood of 
 the door; there was a sound of splintering. Brady 
 ripped out an oath, a wild yell of triumph echoed with- 
 out. Through a nearby loop-hole some savage thrust 
 his gun, and fired blindly, the sudden flash lighting the 
 murk. In the instant red glow I caught a glimpse of 
 the interior of a body lying before the fire-place, of 
 Schultz still on his knees, rifle in hand, of Brady grip- 
 ping an axe, his head bare, a ghastly wound on the side 
 of his face. Then the smoke hid all. 
 
 Something crashed against the door, shaking the 
 whole cabin ; again and again the blow fell, the tough 
 wood bursting asunder, the stout bar bending, yet snap- 
 ping back once more as the sockets held. Amid the din 
 of shouts, the crash of wood, my eyes met Brady's. 
 
 "You 're hurt?" 
 
 " Ay ! " spitting out blood before he could answer. 
 " Jaw shot. Where 's the French girl? " 
 
 I jerked my hand back in gesture. 
 
 " With her father's body, I reckon ; she promised me 
 to keep out of it." 
 
 " Good," his eyes smiling in spite of the intense pain 
 of his wound. " This is like to be our last fight, boy. 
 Do you hear that? Another blow as hard, and those 
 devils will be at us. Do n't quit until you die." 
 
 " I know," and I reached out my hand to him. His
 
 The Fight in the Cabin 
 
 eyes were cool, grimly smiling, and the clasp of his 
 fingers like a vise. 
 
 " We are men," he said slowly. " Do n't forget, lad. 
 They will know about this sometime down on the Ohio 
 here the fiends come ! " 
 
 The door crashed in, the great butt of a tree coming 
 with it, and half blocking the passage. All that remained 
 was instantly filled with savage figures. Into the 
 mass of them I fired my last shot, the flame of discharge 
 searing the hideous faces. Then I was hurled to the 
 right, shoulder to shoulder with Schultz, gripping my 
 gun barrel with both hands, swinging it like a flail. I 
 crushed the skull of a savage, drove the butt into the 
 face of another; saw the flash of a tomahawk, held up 
 for an instant the soldier's reeling body, only to throw 
 it aside; smashed the red hand held out to grip him as 
 he went down ; drew back a step in search of more 
 room, and, with one mighty sweep of my weapon cleared 
 a circle before me. God! it was ghastly, inhuman, 
 devilish! Those behind pushed and yelled; there was 
 no escape ! I saw painted faces, naked shoulders ; wild 
 eyes glared hatred into mine; tomahawk and knife 
 flashed. The butt of my gun smashed, I gripped the 
 iron, my teeth clinched, and blood on fire. I had no 
 sense of fear left, no consciousness of peril. I wanted 
 to strike, to kill, to bruise those hideous faces, to bat- 
 
 [221 ]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 ter them into pulp. The rage of conflict seized me; 
 there swept over me the ferocity of the insane. 
 
 I gave back, compelled by the mere force of numbers 
 hurled against me, yet kept clear a space no savage 
 left unhurt. I felt in' my arms the strength of a dozen 
 men, and not the grip of a red hand reached me. The 
 fiends snarled and struggled, but the fierce swing of 
 the iron bar crushed them back. It was twilight where 
 I stood at bay, the narrow opening, almost blotted out 
 by those struggling figures striving to enter, to me, 
 was a mere blotch, an inferno of movement and sound. 
 Through a dim, red haze, where blood dripped before 
 my eyes, I had glimpses of uplifted arms, of distorted 
 faces, of glittering weapons. Once there was a gun 
 shot, the sudden flash flaming into my eyes ; twice toma- 
 hawks, turning in the air, grazed my cheek; a knife, 
 desperately hurled from out the ruck, struck the iron, 
 slashing my arm as it fell. I felt no pain, no weakness ; 
 I was going to die, but it would not be alone. I rushed 
 forward, treading on bodies, battering at shoulders and 
 heads. I heard yells, shrieks, groans, cries of horror 
 and agony. The frenzied war-whoop rang in my ears ; 
 an order roared out over the babel. I have no recollec- 
 tion of being touched, yet some force hurled me back. I 
 stumbled over the bodies, yet somehow kept my feet. I 
 was breathless, weak, reeling upon my legs, everything
 
 inii FIGHT IN THE CABIN.
 
 The Fight in the Cabin 
 
 before my eyes shrouded in mist. Yet the instinct to 
 fight remained ; I knew nothing else. 
 
 Suddenly I became aware that Brady and I were 
 together, that we were foot to foot, his deadly axe ris- 
 ing and falling as though he was a woodsman in the for- 
 est. Out of the mad din in my ear came the sound of 
 his voice in broken, breathless sentences. 
 
 " Good boy ! good boy ! Ay ! that was a blow. Stand 
 to it, lad; they '11 tell of this fight on the border. Oh, 
 you will, you painted devil that finished you! Do 
 you see Red-Coat back there, Hay ward? Ay! I 'd like 
 one swipe at him, but the coward keeps safe. Strike 
 lower man ! they 're creeping in on us. That J s the 
 kind. Ah ! I thought so ; they 're taking us from behind 
 quick, lad, back to the wall ! " 
 
 I got there ; God only knows how but I was alone. 
 I felt the force of the rush that struck him down ; it had 
 lifted me bodily and hurled me against the logs. Yet I 
 kept my feet, kept my grip on the twisted iron, and 
 struck blindly. The whole cabin seemed jammed with 
 red demons; they piled on me, jerked the bar from my 
 grasp. Once, twice, I sent clenched fist against painted 
 faces ; then it was over with. I never saw or felt the 
 blow that floored me; I went down into darkness, and 
 they trampled me under foot. 
 
 [223]
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 THE HELP OF MADEMOISELLE 
 
 HE sound of a voice speaking, apparently far off, 
 was the first thing of which I was dimly con- 
 scious. The language was French, and, for what 
 seemed a long time, no word sounded familiar. My mind 
 was blank of any distinct impression, although there 
 appeared to float before me, in recollection of some 
 former existence, the face of Mademoiselle. Her won- 
 derful eyes were gravely smiling through a strange 
 mist that appeared to hide all else in its circling folds. 
 I could not get away from their silent pleading, their 
 invitation. Then somehow that speaking voice became 
 hers, and I picked out a word here and there, detached, 
 meaningless, and yet recognizable. I struggled to 
 arouse myself to her actual presence. 
 
 The struggle must have been physical as well as men- 
 tal, for I became conscious of pain, a sharp pang shoot- 
 ing through my body, as if a knife had been twisted in 
 a deep wound. The agony brought me wide awake, my 
 eyes open, staring about, yet scarcely realizing where 
 dream and reality met. At first I could not distinguish 
 objects, or separate sounds ; everything was blurred, 
 [225]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 formless. There was a red vapor before my eyes, a 
 strange ringing in my ears. Then I knew it was indeed 
 Mademoiselle who spoke, somewhere off there to my 
 right, and once I heard another voice a falsetto, yet 
 plainly that of a man, interrupting her. Between my 
 poor understanding of French, and the bewilderment of 
 my brain, I could make nothing out of what was said; 
 the very few words I caught seemed meaningless, with 
 no connection between them. I struggled hard to com- 
 prehend, but my brain made utter failure of the at- 
 tempt, a dull horrible aching across my temples being 
 the only reward. 
 
 Yet this effort served to arouse my faculties some- 
 what. There came to me a consciousness of where I was, 
 a vague memory of what had occurred. I began to 
 breathe with less pain, and dimly to perceive objects 
 near by. I was wounded, badly wounded probably, and 
 a prisoner to the Indians. But I was not dead ; this was 
 not death and its reawakening. I could not move my 
 limbs ; they seemed cramped and lifeless. There came to 
 me in sudden horror the possibility that I was crippled, 
 and then the probability that I was being held for tor- 
 ture. Through a brain half mad with pain there flitted 
 stories of horrible atrocity, of wanton cruelty, of sav- 
 age vengeance tales of the gauntlet, the stake, the 
 slow mutilation of helpless victims. And I was in the 
 
 [226]
 
 The Help of Mademoiselle 
 
 hands of these red devils, wounded, powerless even to 
 move. The thought covered my body with perspiration ; 
 I felt a mad desire to cry out, to burst into tears. Yet I 
 clinched teeth and hands, some shred of remaining man- 
 hood conquering the weakness. I remembered Schultz 
 and Brady; what had become of them? Out of the dark 
 there floated to me the cheery words of the scout ay ! 
 he spoke them just before the rush came " They will 
 hear of this sometime down on the Ohio." The memory 
 was like a bugle call. Yes, they would hear of it; it 
 would become one of the tales of the border. They 
 would know we made a great fight ; that we stood up to 
 it like men. Ay! and no lip should ever tell that I 
 whimpered not even at the stake. I felt the warm 
 blood coursing again in my veins ; I took a new grip on 
 my nerves. 
 
 The voices ceased talking; all was silent about me, 
 but I could hear noise without, and an occasional yell. 
 Something seemed to shadow my outlook, and my grop- 
 ing hands touched the rough board of the bench, under 
 which I lay. I grasped the edge, lifting my head 
 slightly, but something held my limbs helpless. I 
 glanced down my body, dreading what I should dis- 
 cover, yet determined now to face the truth. Oh, the 
 relief! Two half-naked bodies lay across me, dead 
 warriors, the wide-open eyes of one, ghastly in the hor- 
 
 [227]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 ribly painted face, staring straight into mine. For an 
 awful instant I believed him alive; then I saw his head 
 had been crushed in by a giant blow. I forced my eyes 
 away, but could see little there were others lying 
 beside me, and yonder the battered bent rifle barrel I 
 had wielded rested against the bench; the ruin of the 
 broken door was beyond, and half resting on it lay the 
 motionless form of Schultz. I could see the outline of 
 his round face, and a red splotch on his forehead. Some- 
 how out of all that horror only one clear conception 
 clutched me he had not been scalped. I lifted a 
 hand to my own head, finding the thick hair matted 
 with congealed blood. Why were we spared? What 
 stern authority, what plea for mercy had stayed the 
 vengeful Indian knives? Was it the white man, or the 
 influence of Mademoiselle? I sank weakly back to the 
 floor, yet with a faint throb of hope, bringing me fresh 
 courage. 
 
 I could think clearly now, could grasp the situation, 
 and consider my chances. My brain became active, in- 
 tent. It was the strange fact that we had not been 
 scalped, or mutilated, which left the deepest impres- 
 sion. This was unusual a fact that required expla- 
 nation. The reason might mean much to me. If these 
 savages, outcasts of three tribes, were thus under con- 
 trol, they might even spare my life. Their attack had 
 
 [228]
 
 The Help of Mademoiselle 
 
 been desperate and feoocious enough; it had cost them 
 heavily. Yet here I was untouched and unmangled 
 since I fell. There was apparently not even a guard 
 within the cabin. Of course they thought me dead, 
 but the query remained unanswered why were we 
 left unscalped? 
 
 It surely must be because of the mercy of Red-Coat, 
 or else the intervention of the girl. It was certainly her 
 voice I had heard speaking. I knew she was alive, 
 unhurt, exercising influence of some kind, even over 
 these outlaws. What could be the nature of that 
 influence? Whence did it come? Never had I heard 
 of such a thing as a squaw commanding warriors; 
 and these warriors were not of her own tribe. Yet 
 there had been the sound of authority in the voice 
 overheard. Although I could not understand the 
 words spoken, the tone was commanding. It was the 
 man who pleaded, and explained. The more I thought 
 the more pronounced became the mystery. There was 
 something here beyond my comprehending. If this 
 mysterious girl possessed sufficient power to hold back 
 these savages from vengeance, why could she not 
 have gone forth and prevented attack? What could 
 have occurred since to increase her authority? She 
 had fought with us in the defense of the cabin ; I had 
 seen the discharge of her rifle, and knew that one war- 
 
 [229]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 rior, at least, had fallen before her aim. Yet now seem- 
 ingly she was exercising control over the Indians. My 
 heart throbbed in pain, my mind grew confused with 
 unanswerable questions. I struggled in vain effort to 
 release my limbs from the burden of those dead bodies, 
 but was too weak from loss of blood. The effort hurt 
 me, and I closed my eyes, and lay still. I do not think 
 I actually lost consciousness, but seemed rather to drift 
 off into a half dream. 
 
 " Monsieur," the voice was a whisper at my ear ; I 
 could even feel her soft breath on my cheek. My eyes 
 instantly opened, and looked into her face as she bent 
 above me. " Do not move, do not speak aloud but 
 listen, I knew you were not dead ; I found you first and 
 kept them away, but there is no time now for me to ex- 
 plain. Are you badly hurt? " 
 
 " I cannot tell, Mademoiselle those heavy bodies 
 will not let me move." 
 
 She glanced about swiftly, as if in fear of being seen ; 
 then released my limbs, dragging the two dead Indians 
 aside. I felt cramped, lifeless below the waist, yet as 
 the blood began to circulate I knew there was no serious 
 in j ury. She stared into my face as I worked the numbed 
 muscles, and her eyes told me that she was frightened. 
 
 " We are alone here ? " 
 
 " Yes, for the moment," breathlessly. " It is your 
 [230]
 
 The Help of Mademoiselle 
 
 only chance; I have prayed and schemed to get to you. 
 We must n't lose an instant. Can you move, Monsieur? 
 Can you even crawl a dozen feet ? " 
 
 I set my teeth, struggling to turn over and attain 
 my knees. In spite of every effort I sank on my face 
 with a smothered groan of pain. She lifted my head 
 upon her arm. 
 
 " Oh, you must, Monsieur, you must ! I cannot lift 
 you, you are too big, but but I will help. See, I will 
 hold you like this ! Please, please try again we must 
 be quick." 
 
 " Where where do you want me to go ? " I asked 
 faintly, inspired to effort by the firm, eager grip of her 
 hand. " Tell me ; I '11 try." 
 
 "There just to the left of the fire-place. It is 
 the one chance, Monsieur. They will be back, those 
 fiends, they will burn the cabin. Mon Dieu! try ! try ! " 
 
 I got to my knees once more, the plea of her voice 
 yielding strength and determination. At whatever cost 
 I would attempt to please her. I experienced no sense 
 of fear; my brain seemed dazed, incapable of appre- 
 hending clearly. It held but the one purpose to 
 accomplish this to please her. She wished me to try, 
 and I would. With teeth clinched tight, I fixed my 
 eyes on the spot indicated and started. Terrible was 
 the effort! Her voice purred in my ear, but I heard 
 
 [231 ]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 only the music of it ; her firm clasp held me from falling, 
 yet every movement was agony. My side seemed on fire, 
 rubbed by my coarse shirt, and I had to drag my limbs 
 as if they were paralyzed. It was impossible to pro- 
 ceed straight across, for there were bodies in the way ; 
 one of them a huge warrior, still wearing his war- 
 bonnet of feathers. Brady's axe had killed him. Be- 
 yond, almost in the fireplace lay the preacher, curled 
 up in a ball, his face hidden. I knew him by his long 
 coat and light hair. The sight made me sick, and every- 
 thing grew black before my eyes. 
 
 But I made it inch by inch. I shall never know how 
 the deed was accomplished only that she helped, and 
 I fought on. I had to ; she asked me ; there were tears 
 in her eyes. No matter if it did hurt, if I was blind, if 
 I reeled on hands and knees like a man drunk I must 
 go there. I had not the faintest thought of why she 
 urged me on, of what hope animated her. And when I 
 finally gave out, helpless to advance another inch, my 
 face came down hard on a slab of stone beside the 
 chimney. She uttered a low sob of despair, and left me 
 an instant. I knew she had gone, yet could not lift my 
 head. Then water, cool, reviving, dripped on my 
 exposed flesh, and I struggled desperately to sit up. 
 She helped me, dropping the pannikin of water to the 
 floor. For a second she looked straight into my eyes.
 
 The Help of Mademoiselle 
 
 "I I am so sorry, Monsieur," she faltered. " But 
 you must hold out you must ! " 
 
 " Is it any farther? What do you want me to do? " 
 
 " No, no only you will need strength ; it will only 
 take a minute now. See, Monsieur." 
 
 She gripped the flat stone against which I had fallen, 
 prying it with the broken blade of an Indian knife that 
 lay on the floor, until her fingers found hold, and ended 
 it up against the chimney. A narrow black opening 
 was exposed. I stared down with lack-luster eyes, 
 startled, but unable to realize the purpose. Driven by 
 fear she wasted no time in either explanation or urging. 
 Doubtless my face told its own story, and made her 
 desperate. With a strength I had not supposed her 
 slender body possessed, she dragged me about, until my 
 feet dangled helplessly in the opening. 
 
 "Now push yourself down, Monsieur! I say you 
 must ! It is not far, not more than four feet 't is not 
 to hurt, no, no. You will come easy to the bottom. 
 Good ! that is the way. See, I will hold tight to you like 
 this." 
 
 Helped by her, yet exercising all my remaining 
 strength, and now comprehending her plan, I sank slow- 
 ly into the hole, but so numb were my limbs, that, the 
 instant the girl released her grasp, I sank limply to the 
 bottom, resting there, leaning against the side wall, 
 
 [233]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 looking eagerly up at her face framed above me in the 
 narrow opening. 
 
 " You are safe, Monsieur? You are not hurt? " she 
 asked in trembling anxiety. 
 
 I murmured a word or two, for I had exhausted all 
 my strength. She must have accepted this as reassur- 
 ance, for she lifted her head, and glanced swiftly about. 
 Then she reached down to me the pannikin of water. 
 
 " I cannot wait longer," she whispered. " Someone 
 will come. Here; take this, Monsieur; put it down 
 carefully ah ! that was fine. Wash out your wounds, 
 and the blood from your face. It will be dark, but fear 
 nothing. I will come again to you soon." 
 
 " Where does this tunnel lead? " I asked, as her hand 
 grasped the stone slab. 
 
 " To the cave cellar at the rear ; where we first met 
 j but you must wait for me to come, Monsieur." 
 
 I saw the shadow of the stone descending, shutting 
 out the light. 
 
 " Just one question more, Mademoiselle," I managed 
 to articulate. " Is Brady dead? " 
 
 I could dimly perceive the outline of her face. 
 
 " No, Monsieur, he is a prisoner." 
 
 [234]
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 WITHIN THE TUNNEL 
 
 T WAS in total darkness, not a ray of light finding 
 passage about the edges of the stone slab. It evi- 
 dently had been so closely fitted into place as to make 
 discovery practically impossible. I felt at first almost 
 as if I had been buried alive, and yet the very knowledge 
 that Mademoiselle had risked all to bring me to this 
 refuge, brought to my mind courage and resolution. 
 Her quick wit had found a way of escape, and I must aid 
 her to the best of my power. That there should be such 
 a secret passage was not surprising. This cabin had 
 been erected in the heart of a wild country, and its 
 builder had reason to anticipate its possible usefulness. 
 Probably the daughter alone knew of its existence, and 
 the discovery by others was not at all probable, unless 
 the outer end, by any chance, had been left open and 
 unconcealed. 
 
 I rested there, staring about into the black void, feel- 
 ing a slight return of strength, and rapidly regaining 
 courage. My mind was already active and clear, and 
 I stretched out my legs, encouraged to discover a better 
 circulation of blood the strange numbness was disap- 
 
 [235]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 pearing. My side continued to pain me greatly, yet 
 the very intenseness of suffering led me to feel that the 
 wound was not a serious one. I was aware, however, 
 that my exertions had broken it open, and that it was 
 bleeding afresh. I felt weak, feverish, my hand trem- 
 bling, as I sought blindly to explore the side walls and 
 locate the pannikin of water. I discovered this at last, 
 and lifted it to my lips, yet contented myself with a few 
 swallows. It was nectar of the gods to my parched 
 throat, and brought new life to my whole body. 
 
 Slowly I made effort to explore my wound. This 
 was most painful, as my rough shirt was held to my flesh 
 by congealed blood, and had to be torn away. I pos- 
 sessed no knife, but stuck to the work manfully, my 
 teeth clinched, my face beaded with perspiration, until 
 I separated the last shred, and could explore the wound 
 with my fingers. It proved deep and ragged enough, 
 but had penetrated nothing vital. If I could staunch 
 the flow of blood, and bind it up so as to prevent its 
 being reopened, there should be no serious result. I 
 went at this as best I could in the dark, and, by sense 
 of touch, groaning at the pain, I swabbed out the wound 
 until it practically ceased to bleed, and then bound it up 
 with a silk neckerchief and a strip torn from my shirt. 
 It was rude surgery, but effective. Shut out thus from 
 the air the wound merely dully ached, and I found my- 
 
 [236]
 
 WitJiin the Tunnel 
 
 self able to move with much greater freedom. Other- 
 wise I was surprised to discover I had sustained no par- 
 ticular injury. My cheek had been grazed by a bullet, 
 but the ball had merely seared the flesh. I must have 
 received two blows on the head, the first gashing my 
 temple; the second, more severe, had been struck me 
 from behind, for my thick hair was matted with blood. 
 I did the best I could with what water remained, and, 
 when the last drop had been used, I leaned back against 
 the wall to rest. 
 
 I felt quite like myself again, except that my head 
 throbbed horribly, and I found it difficult to think. 
 Not a sound reached my ears from without. Shallow 
 as the tunnel was, the cabin floor being of earth gave 
 no echo of feet there might be a hundred in the room, 
 not four feet distant, yet no noise would penetrate to 
 where I lay. I felt the sides and roof curiously ; small 
 round trunks of trees held back the earth, and supported 
 broad slabs, cleaved by an axe. A desire to explore the 
 passage, to learn if the outer extremity was open, came 
 to me, but I felt weak yet from loss of blood, and 
 strangely dull, my mind drifting from one thing to 
 another, as if in a dream. So the savages had captured 
 Brady ; had taken him alive. Better would it have been 
 for him to have died fighting. They knew him; his 
 was a name used to frighten the papooses in the villages 
 
 [237]
 
 The Moid of the Forest 
 
 of the Shawnees ; there would be no torture too infernal 
 for those demons to exercise, now they had him fairly 
 in their power. I remembered how he looked with that 
 ghastly wound in his jaw, and I shook like a frightened 
 baby, my face buried in my hands. For the first time 
 I realized the miracle of my own escape, the desperate 
 peril of my present position. 
 
 How had it chanced that we were left lying there 
 untouched on the cabin floor after we had fallen? To 
 be sure Mademoiselle had interfered between us and 
 savage vengeance; she had exercised her power, her 
 entreaty to spare us from indignity. She had acknowl- 
 edged as much, and also her knowledge that I was not 
 dead. Yet, surely she alone could never have defended 
 us against the ferocity of those warriors mad with vic- 
 tory. It must have been the unexpected capture of 
 Brady which gave her opportunity. Wild with delight 
 at having him in their power, believing him the leader, 
 in that first mad moment of exultation the savages had 
 left the dead untouched, to taunt and torture the living. 
 Someone had recognized the old borderer, his name had 
 been repeated from lip to lip, and the infuriated war- 
 riors had surged about him and his captors, back into 
 the open, forgetting all else in their eagerness to get 
 glimpse of the man they so feared and hated. This 
 diversion had left the girl for the moment free to act, 
 
 [238]
 
 Within the Tunnel 
 
 and her quick wit had shown the way. Ay! and the 
 white man had lingered in watchful suspicion; she was 
 arguing with him when I regained partial conscious- 
 ness; in some manner she had succeeded in getting the 
 fellow out of the cabin long enough for her purpose. 
 The whole affair slowly worked itself out in my mind, 
 and, with the knowledge of what had occurred, a deeper 
 admiration for this maid of the forest took possession 
 of me. Foundling of the woods, Wyandot I cared no 
 longer what she might be by either birth or blood ; she 
 was to me the one and only woman. 
 
 The thought came to me that I could not remain where 
 I was, cramped in that narrow space, staring blindly 
 into the dark. I must exercise my limbs, put my blood 
 into circulation, and by action of some kind drive mor- 
 bid thoughts from the mind. How still and black it 
 was; how close the roof and sides pressed. I had to 
 fight away the impression that I was actually buried 
 alive. And I was to remain there until she came to my 
 rescue. Suppose she did not come? that something oc- 
 curred to prevent an accident, inability to free her- 
 self from observation? My mysterious disappearance 
 was likely to arouse suspicion. When the Indians re- 
 turned, and found my body gone, what more natural 
 than that they should connect her with its strange van- 
 ishing? If she failed to appear what should I do ? How 
 
 [239]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 could I escape? I could not remain long in this silence 
 and darkness ; it would drive me mad. I wondered if 
 I could lift that heavy stone from below, and whether 
 or not the outer end of the passage was open. I en- 
 deavored to recall the distance between the south wall 
 of the cabin and the cave cellar. This was not clear 
 in my mind, but, as I figured it out, the tunnel could not 
 be less than sixty feet long. 
 
 I got to my hands and knees, determined to discover 
 for myself the nature of the passage. Any form of 
 action was better than merely to lie there inert. I had 
 to creep forward, and found barely room for the pas- 
 sage of my body. My wound still hurt sufficiently to 
 make me cautious of every movement, and consequently 
 my advance was slow. There never was blacker dark- 
 ness ; it was like a weight pressing me back, and the 
 silence was like that of the grave. I could hear my own 
 breathing, but my hands and knees made no sound on 
 the earth floor. Whatever of savage fury was occurring 
 above, no echo found way to where I burrowed below. 
 To all appearance the tunnel ran in a direct line; at 
 least I could discover no evidence of deviation. If 
 D'Auvray had constructed it, then he must have known 
 something of engineering, and been in possession of 
 instruments. The work could not have been done by 
 blind digging. Still, it might have been originally an 
 
 [240]
 
 Within the Tunnel 
 
 open ditch, banked and lined with timber, and then cov- 
 ered, and the earth tamped down. 
 
 I counted the yards of my advance with all the care 
 possible, but it was blind guessing, except that I deter- 
 mined the tree trunks to stand about a foot apart. I 
 crept along for perhaps ten or twelve yards, undis- 
 turbed, feeling no change in the nature of the tunnel. 
 I must have reached a point beyond the corner of the 
 cabin. The narrowness of the passage made progress 
 difficult to one of my size, and the air seemed heavy and 
 foul. 
 
 I stopped to rest a moment, sitting cross-legged, my 
 head barely escaping the roof. Suddenly from out that 
 intense darkness before me, came a peculiar sound. 
 Intensified by the long silence, and the contracted walls, 
 I could not tell whether it was cough or groan, gruff 
 exclamation or growl. Perspiration beaded my fore- 
 head, my hands like ice, as I stared ahead listening. 
 There was no repetition, no movement. Could I have 
 dreamed the thing? Could it be delirium from the fever 
 of my wound? No! surely not; I was sane enough; my 
 ears were not deceived. Something man or animal 
 was certainly there in the tunnel hiding, crouched in 
 the darkness, unaware as yet of my presence. Then 
 it would not be an animal ; it must be a man. The in- 
 stinct of any wild denizen of the woods, its keen scent, 
 
 [241 ]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 would have betrayed me long since. An animal would 
 be seeking me, or else endeavoring to escape. There 
 would be some sound of movement; yet, strain my ears 
 as I would, not the slightest echo reached me. Yet if 
 it were a man what man ? How did he come there ? 
 The fellow must be in hiding, or he would never crouch 
 there so silently in darkness. The longer I waited, the 
 more I thought, the deeper grew the mystery. I could 
 not even guess a solution. Why should an Indian con- 
 ceal himself in this hole? and what white man was there 
 to do so ? Schultz and the preacher were both dead ; I 
 had seen their bodies. Brady was captured dead 
 also likely by this time, after the horrors of torture. 
 
 So impossible did it all seem, that I almost con- 
 vinced myself it was a delusion ; that I had heard noth- 
 ing, that the odd sound had originated within my own 
 brain. I argued the matter out, and convinced myself 
 this was the truth. I smiled grimly as courage came 
 slow r ly back; anyhow I would go on, and find out. If 
 it was a man, I had as good a chance as he did ; ay, bet- 
 ter, for he possessed no warning of my presence. Be- 
 sides I could not remain where I was indefinitely, 
 cramped in that narrow space, afraid to move a muscle, 
 and tortured by imagination. I would rather face the 
 danger boldly if there was any to face and fight 
 it out. I got upon hands and knees again, slowly 
 
 [242]
 
 Within the Tunnel 
 
 and with utmost caution, aware that if I was to escape 
 notice I must advance as stealthily as a wild cat, the 
 slightest sound would carry far in that gallery. I 
 moved forward a yard, two, three yards, extending one 
 hand out into the dark and feeling about carefully, be- 
 fore venturing another inch. Mine were the movements 
 of a snail. 
 
 I had almost convinced myself there was nothing 
 there, either brute or human; yet some instinct con- 
 tinually told me there was. I felt an uncanny presence, 
 and an ill-defined sense of danger I could not cast off. 
 I came to a pause, actually afraid to go on, my flesh 
 creeping with strange horror. I rested on one knee, my 
 face thrust forward as I stared blindly into the awful 
 blackness. I even held my breath in suspense, listening 
 for the slightest movement. Merciful God ! someone 
 something was actually there ! I could hear now 
 the faint pulsing of a breath, as though through clogged 
 nostrils ; yes, and a meaningless muttering of the lips. 
 
 [243]
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 A STRUGGLE UNDERGROUND 
 
 REMAINED poised, breathless, huddled in the dark, 
 hesitating. A dozen considerations flashed through 
 my mind, as I swiftly decided what to do. I could 
 scarcely hope to move backward without noise ; nor, if I 
 succeeded, would I be any better off with him still block- 
 ing the passage? There was nothing for it then but to 
 come to hand grips. But the fellow, whoever he might 
 be whether white or Indian was doubtless armed, 
 while I was weaponless. To get him right was a des- 
 perate chance, yet a chance which must be taken. For- 
 tunately I had him located, his heavy breathing being 
 unmistakable, and evidence also that the man remained 
 unaware of my presence. I shifted one foot forward to 
 get firmer purchase, and then grasped for him through 
 the darkness. My hand came in contact with a shoulder ; 
 then gripped a mass of long hair. He gave vent to a 
 sudden cry, startled, almost inhuman in its wildness, 
 struggling backward so quickly my other hand closed 
 on air. But I held hard to what I had, dragged off my 
 balance, feeling his fingers after my throat. There was 
 no room for us to do otherwise than claw at each other. 
 
 [245]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 After that first cry neither of us uttered a sound, but 
 I closed in on him, getting a stronger grip. He was a 
 man, a white man, for he wore a rough coat, and his face 
 was covered with a growth of straggly, coarse whiskers. 
 Enemy or friend I could not be sure, nor did I find 
 opportunity to discover. We both fought like beasts, 
 resorting to teeth and nails. He was seemingly not a 
 large man, but wiry and muscular. His very lack of 
 size was an advantage in that narrow space; besides I 
 was weakened by loss of blood, and with every move- 
 ment my wound hurt. 
 
 His one object was to wrench himself loose, but my 
 fortunate grip on his hair foiled this effort. Yet both 
 his hands were free, the one clutching my throat; but, 
 in those first breathless seconds, I could not locate the 
 other. He was lying on his side, with right arm under- 
 neath. Fearful of a weapon, I let the fellow gouge at 
 my throat with long, ape-like fingers, while I struggled 
 fiercely to expose the hidden hand. If it proved empty 
 I knew I could handle the man; that I possessed the 
 strength to draw him to me, to crush him into subjec- 
 tion within the vise of my arms. Straining every muscle 
 I could bring into play, I succeeded in forcing him 
 over onto his face. But he was a cat, wiry, full of tricks. 
 In some manner he twirled his arm out of my grip. 
 There was a flash of reddish yellow flame searing across 
 
 [246]
 
 A Struggle Underground 
 
 my eyes, an awful report, like an explosion in my 
 stunned ears. Where the bullet went I will never know, 
 but I saw the man's face leap out at me from the dark- 
 ness just an instant of reflection, as though thrown 
 against a screen by some flash of light the unmis- 
 takable face of a negro. And his was a hideous visage ; 
 the memory of it lingers with me yet. Swift as it ap- 
 peared and vanished in that burst of flame, I shall never 
 forget the glare of the man's eyes, the malignant snarl 
 of the open lips, the teeth cruel and snag-like, and the 
 yellowish-black of his face. It was as if I held some 
 foul fiend of hell in my grip. 
 
 Yet startled as I was by this apparition, his view of 
 me had no less an effect. Even in that single instant 
 of revealment, the hate in his eyes changed to fear, lo 
 uncontrollable panic; his lips gave vent to a wild cry, 
 an exclamation in mongrel .French, and, before I could 
 stiffen in resistance, or recover from my own shock, the 
 fellow flung his pistol at me, and jerked free. The 
 flying weapon tore a gash in my scalp, but his haste 
 and fear proved his own undoing. Half stunned as I 
 was by the blow, I heard him spring to his feet, the dull 
 crash of his head as he struck the hardwood slab of 
 the low roof, and then the thud of a body on the tunnel 
 floor. In his haste, his desperation, his strange fright, 
 he had forgotten where he was, and attempted to spring 
 
 [247]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 erect. My head reeled, the blood from this new cut 
 trickling down my cheek. The negro lay motionless in 
 the darkness ; I could not even distinguish his breathing, 
 although I hesitated, listening intently, half fearing 
 some trick. 
 
 What had frightened the fellow so? What had 
 brought that look of insane terror into his eyes ? It was 
 as if he stared at a ghost, the very sight of which had 
 crazed him. I mastered by own nerves, and crept for- 
 ward along the passage, feeling blindly in advance with 
 one outstretched hand, until it came in contact with the 
 man's figure. He lay full length on the tunnel floor, 
 and I had to find my way over him to reach his head. 
 It was difficult to touch him, to place my fingers against 
 his flesh. The memory of those snarling, wolfish lips, 
 and that yellow skin, caused me to shrink from direct 
 contact. Yet I must assure myself. I could not leave 
 the man lying there, possibly to recover consciousness 
 and do injury. Of one thing I was assured this 
 French negro could be no friend. Whatever had caused 
 him to skulk in this hole of the earth even if it was 
 fear of those savages above us in the cabin, promised 
 no help to me. He would prove as merciless and cruel, 
 if given power, as any Indian ; his very fear of me 
 would yield him the savagery of a wild beast. 
 
 With clinched teeth, I touched the coarse hair with my 
 [248]
 
 fingers; then the forehead. The flesh retained some 
 warmth ; jet the feeling was not natural it seemed 
 lifeless. For the instant this appeared impossible. Why, 
 he did it himself; he crashed his own skull against the 
 slab. Yet I could not make the affair seem real, or 
 probable. And a negro ! I had seen few of the race, 
 but had always been told they were of thick skull ; but 
 if this man was actually dead, his head must have been 
 smashed like an egg-shell. And it was I found the 
 gash a moment later, the jagged edge of bone. The 
 fellow was dead, stone dead; there was no beat to his 
 heart, no throb to his pulse. Still dazed by the dis- 
 covery, I ran my fingers along the roof overhead, hoping 
 to find something there which would account for the 
 mystery. No flat surface could ever have jabbed that 
 wound. Ah ! I felt it the sharp point of a stake pro- 
 truding between the logs. The poor fellow had struck 
 that with sufficient force to penetrate the brain. 
 
 I conquered my abhorrence, and searched him, finding 
 tobacco, a knife an ugly weapon flint and steel, a 
 few coins, and some powder and rifle balls. There were 
 no pistol bullets, and the thought occurred to me that 
 that smaller weapon probably did not belong to him ; he 
 had appropriated it elsewhere. I crept about, and 
 across the body, searching for it in vain, but I found 
 the rifle, and took time to test its flint, and load it. 
 
 [249]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 I was still engaged at this task, blindly feeling about 
 in the dark for everything needed, and always con- 
 scious of that dead body beside me, when I suddenly 
 detected smoke not the puff of powder which still 
 clung to the passage, but the acrid, pungent odor of 
 burning wood. Even as I began to breathe the fumes 
 they increased in intensity, the narrow tunnel filling 
 rapidly with the smoke waves, and setting me to cough- 
 ing. I realized at once what had happened. Mad- 
 emoiselle's words of warning coming back to mind 
 they were burning the cabin, and through some orifice 
 the smoke was being swept down into this underground 
 passage. If there were no outlet, no way by which it 
 could escape again to the open air, I must die there in 
 that black hole, choked and suffocated. I might lie 
 there forever beside this hideous negro; lie there until 
 our bones rotted, and we also became earth. The horror 
 of the thought brought me to my knees. Already the 
 air was stifling, my lungs laboring heavily for breath 
 as the smoke clouds filled the passage. Only as I bent 
 my nostrils close against the earthern floor could I find 
 life-giving air. 
 
 Even in my terror I clung to the negro's rifle des- 
 perately. The entrance leading forth into the cave- 
 cellar must be closed, or the smoke cloud would never 
 be so dense and suffocating. To open it might require 
 
 [250]
 
 A Struggle Underground 
 
 strength, the blows of the gun stock. If I retained 
 power to burst my way through I must hurry. Already 
 I felt my head reel dizzily, my open lips gulping for air. 
 I crept forward recklessly in the dark, bruising my body 
 against the sides of the tunnel, actually feeling the thick- 
 ening smoke swirl about me in dense clouds. I gasped 
 for breath, and drew a bit of cloth about nose and 
 mouth in slight protection. I was panic-stricken, over- 
 come by sudden horror, yet some nature within com- 
 pelled me to struggle on. Suddenly I came to a body 
 lying lengthwise of the passage, the head to the south. 
 This new discovery was a shock, yet seemed to affect 
 me little. I was too intent on my own escape to be 
 halted by a dead man ; to even think what it meant, or 
 how the fellow came to be there. To me, at that instant, 
 he was but an obstacle, blocking my progress. 
 
 I crawled over him, as though he was no more than 
 a stone in the path, yet as one hand came down in the 
 dark on the upturned face, I experienced a sudden thrill 
 the flesh was warm, the man lived. Barely had my 
 numbed mind grasped this helplessly, when my rifle 
 barrel, thrust before me, struck the end of the passage, 
 the faint sound of contact signifying wood. Not three 
 feet extended between the man's head and this barrier 
 which blocked us from the outside air. Desperate, half 
 crazed indeed, not only by my own situation, but also 
 
 [251]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 by my memory of those bodies behind in the dark tun- 
 nel, I found scant knee-room in the small space, and 
 fumbled madly about for some latch. The surface was 
 of wood, roughly faced, but smooth, save for what 
 might be a handle in the middle, a mere strip, bevelled 
 to give finger-hold. I pulled at this in vain ; then pushed 
 with my shoulder against the oak, but the wood held 
 firm. Weak as I was, and in so cramped a position, I 
 could bring to bear but small strength. To batter the 
 door down was the only hope left ; no matter what noise 
 resulted, or the possibility of capture by the savages, 
 I could not lie there and choke to death in that place of 
 horror. Better any danger than such a fate. I drew 
 back and struck, the power of fear giving strength to 
 my arms. Again and again I drove the iron-bound rifle 
 stock against the hard oak. I left the center and at- 
 tacked the sides, feeling the wood give slightly. Encour- 
 aged by this I redoubled my efforts, centralizing my 
 blows on one spot, until certain the tightly jammed door 
 was being driven from the groove. It was hot and sti- 
 fling; the perspiration streamed from me; the smoke was 
 suffocating, deadly. I gasped and choked, my head 
 swam with dizziness. I felt my strength ebbing away; 
 despair clutched me. Yet I struck no longer with 
 clear intent, but automatically, driving the heavy gun 
 butt against the slowly yielding wood, with every pound
 
 A Struggle Underground 
 
 of strength I had left. It seemed as if I had struck my 
 last blow I believe now I had ; I believe my body fell 
 with it I cannot remember clearly only I know the 
 wood gave way, and I fell forward into light and air, 
 my face without, my body still in the tunnel. 
 
 Merciful Mother ! how I gulped in those first refresh- 
 ing breaths; how the clogged lungs rejoiced. It seemed 
 as if I could never get enough. I could hardly detect 
 objects, although I lifted my head, and sought to gaze 
 about, for my eyes were blinded by so suddenly emerg- 
 ing into the bright light after those hours of darkness. 
 Clouds of smoke swept over me, and poured out through 
 the open door of the cellar. As strength and purpose 
 came back I sat up, and began to perceive my sur- 
 roundings. A glimpse of blue sky, and, sounding far 
 away, a medley of discordant cries came thread-like 
 to my ears. These served' to restore my wandering 
 senses. The Indians were still on the island; some 
 might be close enough at hand to observe that column 
 of smoke pouring forth from the cellar door, and won- 
 der how it came there. Yet there was nothing I could 
 do but remain hidden; to venture into the open would 
 only expose me to greater danger. I glanced back into 
 the tunnel, suddenly remembering the man who still 
 lived. If he were out, the door might be forced back 
 into place again, that volume of smoke suppressed. 
 
 [253]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 I refastened the cloth across my face, and crept back 
 into the tunnel until I was able to grip the fellow's arms. 
 He was a large man, clothed as a white ; I even thought 
 I felt braid on his sleeves ; and, as I drew him toward 
 me by a mighty effort, the light streaming in revealed 
 a red jacket. 
 
 [254]
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 I MEET MY DOUBLE 
 
 probability that the man was a British officer, 
 whose life depended on my exertions, nerved me 
 anew. No matter who he might prove to be, whether 
 friend or foe, he was of my race and blood, and evidently 
 the victim of treacherous attack. First of all I must 
 get him out of that stifling hole into pure air, and dis- 
 cover the nature of his injuries. It was no easy task 
 dragging the heavy body through the narrow entrance, 
 and across the dislodged door. It had to be accom- 
 plished by sheer strength of arm, for I worked on my 
 knees, choked by the foul atmosphere, almost blinded 
 by the smoke, and unable to find purchase. Yet foot 
 by foot I won, until, exhausted by the effort, I hauled 
 the limp form free of the barrier, and against the side 
 wall of the cellar. 
 
 For an instant I was breathless, again conscious of 
 the pain from my wound, yet the insistent need of im- 
 mediate action spurred me to final effort. I could think 
 and rest later; with necessary work accomplished I 
 could nurse my wounds and his also. But first this out- 
 pouring of smoke must be stopped; the cellar itself 
 
 [255]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 was full of stifling odor in the fumes of which I gasped 
 and choked, while out through the entrance the clouds 
 poured upward into the blue sky, a signal to any watch- 
 ful Indian eye. I could stand erect now, and move at 
 ease ; the unconscious soldier lay motionless, his face 
 shadowed toward the wall. Obscured as he was by 
 swirls of smoke I could faintly distinguish the rise and 
 fall of his chest, as his lungs struggled for air. He 
 was alive, and I observed no outward sign of wound, 
 but I had no present cause to either fear or guard the 
 man. My one task now was to seal the tunnel. This 
 was not difficult. The small oaken door, unbroken, 
 fitted snugly into the aperture, and was driven back 
 into place by the iron-bound rifle butt. The outer wood 
 had been stained so closely of a color with the tint of the 
 surrounding earth, as to be scarcely detected in that 
 dim light, by any casual search. But for splinters 
 broken along the edge by my rifle stock, my own eyes, 
 smarting from the smoke, could not have determined its 
 presence. 
 
 I leaned against the side-wall as the waves of smoke 
 thinned, and drifted out through the open door. At 
 last there was but a thin vapor showing against the 
 blue expanse of sky. It occurred to me the blue was 
 shading into gray, as if with approaching twilight. I 
 retained no sense of time; so much had occurred I felt 
 
 [256]
 
 1 Meet My Double 
 
 I had been confined for hours in that tunnel; when I 
 first emerged and perceived light I could scarcely realize 
 that it was yet day ; that all had occurred the fight 
 in the cabin, my rescue, the horrors of the tunnel 
 within so short a space. There suddenly swept over me 
 the fresh memory of it all; I saw the faces, heard the 
 voices. And they were dead, those men I had com- 
 panioned with; they had gone the long journey, some 
 quickly, mercifully, and Brady in the agony of tor- 
 ture. How it nauseated me ! the swift reaction leaving 
 me sobbing like a child, my hands pressed over my eyes. 
 All at once I experienced the full horror, and broke 
 down as weak as a babe. I remember now how my knees 
 shook, so that I sank down to the earth floor ; ay ! and 
 how I prayed, my voice a mere senseless murmur, yet, 
 no doubt, clear enough to God's ears. 
 
 Anyway this must have brought me courage, for I 
 lifted my head again, and looked about, my mind once 
 more active, that dreadful panic of fear gone. The 
 taint of burning wood still clung to the atmosphere, but 
 the smoke had entirely vanished. It was dull and gloomy 
 in the cellar, which might have measured ten feet each 
 way, the light finding entrance only through the one 
 narrow opening, leaving the side-walls in shadow. These 
 were of solid earth, supporting tree trunks, thatched 
 with bark, and overlaid with loose dirt. The entrance 
 
 [257]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 led upward, having two puncheon steps. Obeying my 
 first impulse, a desire to discover what was occurring 
 without before night closed down, I crept across, still 
 clinging to the rifle, and cautiously thrust my head up 
 through the opening. The smoke from the fallen side- 
 walls of the dismantled cabin blotted out the view to 
 the east, but in the other direction all was clearly re- 
 vealed as far as the edge of the woods. The clearing 
 was deserted ; no figure, living or dead, appearing within 
 range of vision. I could see where the Indians had 
 charged across the open space, but the bodies of the 
 fallen warriors had been removed. The rays of the sun, 
 now well down in the west, penetrated the outer fringe 
 of the forest, giving me glimpse into its depths, but re- 
 vealed no movement. I searched every inch, shading 
 my eyes, but could perceive no sign of Indians. I crept 
 up farther, to where I could peer across the mound of 
 earth, but saw nothing. It was apparent the savages 
 had departed; had fired the cabin, and crossed over to 
 the main shore. And the hut was gone, only some re- 
 maining logs blazed with fitful flames, fanned by the 
 wind. 
 
 What was I to do ? What could I do ? Mademoiselle 
 had bade me wait wait until she came. But what 
 might have occurred to her since then? Even if free 
 from all suspicion how could she escape the observation 
 
 [ 258 ]
 
 / Meet My Double 
 
 of those savages, and return here? They might be miles 
 away by now, hidden in forest depths, compelling her to 
 travel with them. Some among the band would have 
 missed me, and might have accused her of aiding my 
 escape. Red-Coat knew, or would be likely to suspect. 
 I was lying there apparently dead, when he left her alone 
 in the cabin ; when he returned my body was gone. What 
 would he do to the girl? denounce her to his savage 
 allies? hand her over to their fury? Would the white 
 renegade dare do this ? I had no means of knowing the 
 risk she had assumed. Did she know this man? did 
 he know her? Was it possible she possessed an authority 
 over these outlaws of three tribes that he dare not 
 question or oppose? Such a supposition seemed hardly 
 possible ; they were not her people there was not n 
 Wyandot among them, and if she was unable to save 
 poor Brady from the stake, she would be fortunate 
 indeed if she escaped unscathed. 
 
 I felt tempted to get outside, and discover where the 
 raiders had gone; their trail might reveal much, if it 
 could only be found before night came. I had straight- 
 ened up, determined to try the venture, when a move- 
 ment below, and the muffled sound of a voice speaking 
 English, reminded me of the soldier. Descending from 
 out the sun-light I could perceive little in the darker 
 cave-cellar. The red jacket was, however, sufficiently 
 
 [259]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 conspicuous to convince me that the man was sitting up, 
 liis back against the wall. 
 
 " I do n't know who you are, friend," he called out 
 heartily, " only you look to be white. By any luck do 
 you speak English? " 
 
 " Not much of anything else," I answered, endeavor- 
 ing to discover his features. " I 'm of the blood." 
 
 " Ay ! with a colonial twang to it, unless my ears lie. 
 Is that the story ? So ! then what in God's name are 
 you doing here?" 
 
 I could not take the measure of the fellow, his face 
 remaining indistinct in the shadows, but there was a 
 reckless ring of good-fellowship in his voice which 
 Inspired me to frankness. 
 
 " I came this way with a message for the Wyandots. 
 I belong to the garrison of Fort Harmar." 
 
 "An officer?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Holy Smoke, man, but you certainly stumbled into 
 a hornet's nest. Did n't you know all the northwest 
 tribes have declared war? that it has actually begun? " 
 
 " No ; it was in the hope of preventing such a catas- 
 trophe that I was sent. Word was brought us that the 
 Wyandots would not join the confederation." 
 
 " Who brought such word ? " 
 
 " Simon Girty. He bore a letter from Hamilton, 
 [260]
 
 / Meet My Double 
 
 sought information regarding the disappearance of a 
 Wyandot chief." 
 
 "Wa-pa-tee-tah?" 
 
 " That was the name." 
 
 The man laughed, but the sound was not altogether 
 pleasant. 
 
 " There is a touch of humor to your tale, my friend," 
 he said slowly, " although I doubt if you will be able 
 to perceive it. Girty and Hamilton may have had rea- 
 sons of their own for a bit of byplay ; egad ! they failed 
 to consult me. But as for this Wa-pa-tee-tah, that 
 chanced to be my business, although just now, and in 
 the presence of the enemy, we will let the discussion go. 
 Diplomacy never reveals its cards, and I have become 
 more diplomat than soldier. What am I then a 
 prisoner? " 
 
 I saw him now clearly, and he must have got his first 
 fair glimpse of me, for he stared at my face in startled 
 surprise that, for the moment, held him dumb. It was- 
 like looking at my own reflection in a glass the eyes, 
 the hair, the nose, the contour of the face, the massive 
 figure, all alike the counterpart of my own. I would 
 not have believed, except for the witness of my own eyes, 
 that such similarity was possible. Even though forti- 
 fied with sudden impression that this was the man 
 for whom Mademoiselle had mistaken me, the actual 
 [261]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 resemblance was so startling, as to leave me voiceless. 
 We would have passed for each other anywhere, and 
 yet as I stared at him, meeting his eyes fairly, I per- 
 ceived a difference, faint, elusive, yet noticeable enough 
 his skin showed marks of dissipation ; there was a 
 peculiar insolent sneer to his mouth, and he must be 
 older than I by five years. My mind seemed to grip all 
 this in a flash, before his voice broke the silence. 
 
 " Odds life, man ! and what 's this ! " he roared. 
 " Some play acting, or a dream? Never before did I 
 know I was born a twin. Who are you ? " 
 
 The look on his face, as if he half suspected he saw 
 a ghost, made me smile. 
 
 " My name is Hayward Joseph Hayward." 
 
 He gasped for breath, his eyes fairly protruding, 
 as he staggered to his feet. 
 
 " What ! say that again ! " 
 
 I had full control of myself now, rather enjoying his 
 consternation. 
 
 " I am Joseph Hayward," I answered with grave 
 deliberation. " An ensign in the United States army, 
 and a native of Maryland." 
 
 " Well, I '11 be hanged ! Say ; do you know that 's 
 my name also? Is this some shabby joke? " 
 
 There was a gleam of anger in his eyes, a threat. 
 I leaned on my rifle, and looked him in the face. 
 
 [262 ]
 
 " I was better prepared for this meeting than you," 
 I said, " for I happen to know who you are. It 's an 
 odd thing, our resemblance, and the similarity of names, 
 but I was told about you some time ago." 
 
 " By whom? " 
 
 " Mademoiselle D'Auvray." 
 
 " Who ? I never met oh, her ! " with a quick 
 laugh, "you mean the Wyandot missionary?" 
 
 " I mean the daughter of Captain D'Auvray," I re- 
 turned with some sternness. " The man the Indians 
 call * Wa-pa-tee-tah.' She mistook me for you." 
 
 " And was not very nice about it I imagine the 
 little vixen will scarce give me a word." 
 
 " Possibly with reason." 
 
 " She told you so? She might be in better business 
 than advertising my deliquencies among enemies. The 
 girl has just enough white blood in her to make her 
 act the fool." 
 
 " We may differ about that. Anyhow I advise you 
 to hold your tongue. What I am interested in learning 
 now is who killed her father ? " 
 
 He started back, bracing himself against the wall. 
 
 " Her father! D'Auvray? is he dead then? " 
 
 He was not acting; the surprise was real; the ex- 
 pression of his eyes convinced me. 
 
 " You had no connection with the murder? " 
 [263]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " I ! Good Lord, no ! I know nothing, man not 
 even how I came to be here. I woke up just now, lying 
 in this corner with my face to the wall, every bone in 
 my body aching. When I finally managed to roll over, 
 I got glimpse of you there at the entrance, and sang 
 out. I do n't even feel certain who I am, let alone what 
 I may have been up to." 
 
 " But surely you recall something," I insisted. 
 
 "Well," puzzled, "not much. See here, I'm willing 
 enough to tell you all I know. Let 's sit down ; my head 
 spins around like a top." 
 
 [264]
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 I HOLD A PRISONER 
 
 T T E dropped back against the wall, but much of my 
 old strength had returned, and I remained stand- 
 ing, leaning on my rifle. The man continued to stare 
 up at me as if half doubting his own eyesight 
 
 " Well," I said at last, growing tired of his silence. 
 " You have my story or, at least, a good part of it 
 and now it would seem the proper time for me to 
 hear yours. Once we understand each other we will 
 know better how to proceed." 
 
 " That may be so, and it may not but I can't so 
 easily get over the resemblance it 's uncanny. From 
 Maryland, you say? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Of good English stock I warrant. It seems to me 
 I 've heard of a branch of our line who emigrated to 
 the colonies. Well, it 's odd how a certain type will 
 survive, skip generations, and then reappear. You and 
 I will be cousins likely, though in faith we have more 
 the appearance of twins." 
 
 " Which may be interesting enough," I said so- 
 berly, " if we possessed all the time in the world to dis- 
 
 [265]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 cuss the matter. But it strikes me our possible rela- 
 tionship can wait a more convenient season. I '11 tell 
 you a thing or two that may hurry your mind a bit. 
 The cabin above has been burned by Indians, who have 
 left the island, but as to this I am not sure. They may 
 know of my escape, and return again in search ; I got 
 away through the tunnel leading from the fireplace of 
 the cabin to this cellar. You knew of the existence of 
 that passage? " 
 
 " No ; I was never here but once before." 
 ' Yet that was where I found you, unconscious, ap- 
 parently dead; I dragged you out, after battering 
 down the door there. The smoke from the burning 
 cabin would have suffocated you in five minutes more.'' 
 
 He pressed his hands against his head in an endeavor 
 to think. 
 
 " I was in there, unconscious and alone? " 
 
 " No, not alone ; there was a yellow-faced negro with 
 you a French mongrel, if I know the breed. He 's 
 there yet dead ; and I want to know the story." 
 
 " Oh, ay ! I begin to get the straight of this at last," 
 and his face brightened. " Not that it is altogether 
 clear, but you furnish a clue; perhaps if we put the 
 ends together we may make a tale. A French negro, 
 hey ! 'T would likely be the Kaskaskia half-breed, a 
 treacherous whiskered dog. But how ever did he come 
 
 [ 266 ]
 
 I Hold a Prisoner 
 
 to be here? Ay! I have it! The fellow must have 
 trailed me from the council at Sandusky, suspecting I 
 sought D'Auvray; there was hate between them." 
 
 " Then 't is likely he killed the man." 
 
 " No doubt of it, if he really be killed. Listen to 
 what I know ; in truth it is not much other than rumor ; 
 D'Auvray had the fellow lashed by Wyandot squaws 
 for some dirty trick, and Picaud that 's his name 
 swore vengeance. Saint Denis ! that was a year ago, 
 and Picaud has ever since been in his own country. 
 *T was the coming of war that brought him back. I 
 thought I saw him at Sandusky as we held council there, 
 but his presence was nothing to me." 
 
 " He had no quarrel with you then ? " 
 
 " No ; I saw him whipped ; he was like a snarling cur. 
 Listen, and I '11 tell all I know. I am not proud of my 
 job, understand, but out here in the wilderness, we work 
 under a double set of orders one open and above- 
 board, the other secret. 'T is poor work for a soldier, 
 but there 's no help for it, except to resign, and then 
 someone else would turn the trick. You know the game 
 we play our countries at peace, this land formally 
 surrendered to you Americans, and yet there comes to 
 us to Hamilton private instructions to retard set- 
 tlement, and retain our military posts. Lord knows 
 what the ministry means, what they hope to gain by de- 
 
 [267]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 lay; we are only pawns in the game being played, yet 
 what England says, we do. Yet how? There is only 
 one weapon left to our hands the savages. We can- 
 not fight you openly, much as we might prefer, but if we 
 can keep the Indian Bribes hostile, we can hold back 
 your settlements to the Ohio, until England can act 
 openly. You knew all this ? " 
 
 " Yes," I acknowledged soberly. " The policy is 
 clear enough." 
 
 " And it was easily enough carried out," he went on, 
 " but for the Wyandots. We were hand in glove with 
 the tribes, and they hated the Americans. Our emis- 
 saries were in all their villages, and made the chiefs 
 presents and promises. Raiding parties of young war- 
 riors swept through the forests clear to the Ohio, doing 
 much damage, and driving the whites to their forts. 
 But we needed open war, the alliance of all the tribes, 
 and we were blocked in this the Wyandots refused. 
 I was sent there, and when I failed, Hamilton went him- 
 self, but with no better success. You know the 
 reason? " 
 
 I shook my head, afraid to interrupt for fear he 
 might remember how convicting such a confession was, 
 and refuse to continue. But apparently the man failed 
 to conceive the depravity of his acts. 
 
 " The influence of D'Auvray ay ! and that daugh- 
 [268]
 
 I Hold a Prisoner 
 
 ter of his. Saint Denis, but I believe she was the worst 
 of the two. I actually made love to the witch hoping 
 thus to win her over to our side, although even the 
 love-making might have been serious in the end, if she 
 would even listen. But you know the lass, you say? " 
 
 " We have met, yes ; a fine girl to my thought, 
 despite her drop of Indian blood." 
 
 " Ay ! fine enough," with quick glance of suspicion, 
 and hardening of the mouth, " for those who like that 
 kind. To my mind it makes a bad combination, French 
 and Indian, and worse yet when adulterated by re- 
 ligion. I might have married her who knows ? " 
 shrugging his shoulders, " but she certainly would n't 
 listen to anything else. Lord, the wench was proud as 
 Lucifer ; ay ! and laughed in my face, and mocked me, 
 until even Hamilton had to grin, when I told him the 
 story. 'T was then I made up my mind to win in spite 
 of her." 
 
 " To win her, you mean ? " 
 
 " No, no ! There was but one way of doing that, 
 and it chances I possess a dislike for Indian blood. I 
 mean the Wyandots to our scheme. 'T was Hamilton's 
 plan, that I suggest to her a visit to the Wabash tribes, 
 for she was ready for any sacrifice to spread her faith 
 among the red-skins. Ay ! and by good luck the scheme 
 worked." 
 
 [269]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 "That then was what took her south?" I asked, 
 deeply interested. 
 
 ' Yes ; I fixed up a fine story, and the priest gave her 
 his blessing. Oh, it was safe enough; no Indian would 
 dare lay hand on her in evil. Where did you meet the 
 girl?" 
 
 " Fort Harmar." 
 
 "What!" in surprise. "She got so far? she ven- 
 tured there? What was her purpose, think you? " 
 
 " Of that I know nothing, yet it was there we met 
 first, and she mistook me for you. Go on ; I would hear 
 the rest of your tale; it is growing dark." 
 
 " The rest is short enough, but the girl's actions puz- 
 zle me. Once we were rid of her, the father had to be 
 attended to. 'T was no easy task, for D'Auvray was a 
 chief, and quick to quarrel. 'T is small odds now how 
 the trick was played, but I knew of this cabin, and once 
 here I held him prisoner, while Hamilton used his dis- 
 appearance as a whip to drive the Wyandots to war." 
 
 " He spread the rumor then that D'Auvray was cap- 
 tured or killed by Americans, knowing what had oc- 
 curred? " 
 
 " Partly that," with a chuckle. " He knew not where 
 the man was, only that I had him safe." 
 
 " And by means of this lie you deliberately plotted to 
 ravage the frontier with Indian outrage," I exclaimed 
 
 [270]
 
 Hold a Prisoner 
 
 indignantly, " to turn loose a horde of savages against 
 unprotected settlements, to kill women and children. 
 'T is an act of cold-blooded murder you confess." 
 
 " Nay, not so fast, friend," his eyes hardening with 
 anger. " 'T was war ; we but obeyed the orders that 
 came from England ; made use of the weapons at hand." 
 
 " I care nothing for the excuse. There was no war, 
 and it was murder. Do n't call me friend ! I am no 
 friend of yours. Though you may be of my own blood, 
 of my own name, the act was murder foul, treacher- 
 ous murder. Yes ! I wish I had left you to rot there in 
 that hole." 
 
 He was on his feet, his face flaming with passion, 
 but I flung forward my rifle. 
 
 " Ay ! I mean it, Joseph Hayward, if that be your 
 name," I went on, coldly enough now. " And I would 
 say the same to Hamilton if he were here. Stand where 
 you are, or I will kill you as I would a mad cur. Only 
 a fiend would boast of such an act of treachery. Now 
 go on, and tell me the rest. I want no lie, but the truth 
 how did D'Auvray meet his death ? " 
 
 He stood glaring at me over the rifle barrel, his hands 
 gripping in desire, yet knowing well that any hostile 
 movement meant death. 
 
 "Hanged if I '11 tell you!" 
 
 '* Then you die where you are, you dog," and I meant 
 [271 ]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 it. " You have said enough already to condemn 3-011. 
 I believe you killed D'Auvray." 
 
 " I did not," he burst forth. " I did not even know 
 he was dead. I am not afraid of you, or your threats, 
 but I will tell you what occurred here. I 'm ready 
 enough, as you will discover yet, to answer for what- 
 ever I do, but I am not going to bear the blame for 
 the dastard act of another. I was friendly enough with 
 D'Auvray, even if I did seek to trick him in this matter. 
 There was no intent to take his life." 
 
 " Well then, go on." 
 
 " I held him prisoner here," he said sulkily, " al- 
 though there was no violence or threat. The man did 
 not even realize he was under guard, yet I saw to it 
 that he retained no arms, and was never out of my sight. 
 'T was my orders to hold him quiet until I had message 
 from Hamilton. He suspected nothing, and there was 
 no trouble; not so much as a word of controversy be- 
 tween us. Once a day I made circuit of the island to as- 
 sure myself we were alone. Occasionally he went with 
 me, but the last time I left him in the cabin asleep. It 
 was dusk when I returned; I had seen nothing sus- 
 picious, and was careless. I remember approaching 
 the rear door, without thought of danger. I must have 
 passed the opening of the cave here, when suddenly I 
 was struck down from behind. I saw nothing, heard 
 
 [272]
 
 I Hold a Prisoner 
 
 nothing of my assailant. When I returned to conscious- 
 ness I was lying here. That is all." 
 
 " T would be Picaud who struck you ? " 
 
 " Beyond doubt, and then, thinking me dead, dragged 
 me into this hole. Yet how came we both in there? " 
 
 " I could barely distinguish his face in the dim 
 light." 
 
 " We can only guess at the rest. My theory would 
 be that the negro was interrupted by our arrival at the 
 cabin. He discovered the entrance to the tunnel, and 
 dragged you into it, thinking to escape himself. To 
 make sure who we were he crept into the cabin, and re- 
 covered your jacket you left it there, didn't you? " 
 
 " Ay ! it was a warm night." 
 
 " The fellow must have seen something that fright- 
 ened him, that drove him back into hiding. Later I 
 stood there in the cave mouth, looking about. Perhaps 
 it was then he crawled into the tunnel, and replaced the 
 door. Ah, I have it he did that later when he recog- 
 nized the voice of Mademoiselle." 
 
 " Of who ? Mademoiselle ? " 
 
 "Mademoiselle D'Auvray; she joined me as I stood 
 there. Her presence would account for his fear." 
 
 He leaned forward, as if endeavoring to decipher my 
 face. 
 
 " Are you telling me truth? " he asked hoarsely. " Is 
 [273]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 that girl here? What could have brought her to this 
 place? What does she suspect? What does she 
 know ? " 
 
 " That I cannot tell, except that she believes you 
 killed her father ; the discovery of your coat convinced 
 her of that. As to how she came here she traveled 
 with Girty from Fort Harmar, seeking to reach the 
 Wyandots in advance of me. She came to the cabin 
 alone, hoping to find her father, but instead found us in 
 possession, and D'Auvray's dead body. It was she who 
 thrust me into the tunnel, and saved my life." 
 
 " And, now, man, where is she ? " 
 
 " With those Indians who attacked us, and burned 
 the cabin she may be a prisoner." 
 
 He laughed uneasily, shifting his position. 
 
 " No fear of that. She is a wonder worker with 
 these savages; they are afraid of her; they think her 
 cross will work miracles. Saint Denis ! I would rather 
 have her with me than all the chiefs." 
 
 " Could she save a man from the torture, the stake? " 
 
 " She has done it ; ay ! I saw it done, and it took 
 some courage. But she might fail with these renegades. 
 Who is the man? " 
 
 " Brady ; the scout who accompanied me." 
 
 " I know of the fellow ; she would have small chance 
 of saving him." He paused, then asked suddenly: 
 
 [274]
 
 / Hold a Prisoner 
 
 " What about me ? Am I a prisoner, or free to go ? 
 Do you absolve me of murder? " 
 
 " Of killing D'Auvray yes. But your hands are 
 bloody enough without that crime." 
 
 " Then I may go my way ? " 
 
 "To more treachery? to those Indians to report my 
 presence here ? " 
 
 " No, I swear 
 
 " I accept no pledge from you. You say 't is already 
 war on the border ; then I will act accordingly. We will 
 wait here until she comes." 
 
 " She ! not Mademoiselle D'Auvray." 
 
 " Yes," I answered tersely. " Mademoiselle D'Auv- 
 ray." 
 
 [275]
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 AN EFFORT TO SAVE BRADY 
 
 r| iHE night had closed down without, but the rem- 
 nants of fire still eating away the dry logs of the 
 cabin, yielded a red tinge to the interior of the cellar. 
 It was a spectral, eery light, brightening as some breeze 
 fanned the flames, and then as suddenly lasping into 
 dimness. Yet sufficient glow found way down the en- 
 trance to enable me to see my prisoner, and observe his 
 movements. He received my words quietly, breathing 
 heavily, and then laughed. 
 
 " You must possess an odd sense of humor," he said 
 finally. " Do you realize where you are, man ? 'T is a 
 long way to the Ohio, and the woods between by now 
 swarm with savages. You will do better far to make a 
 friend of me than an enemy." 
 
 " I see no reason for choosing either," I answered, 
 pleasantly enough. " We chance to be on opposite 
 sides, and I deem it safer to hold you here until the 
 lady determines what to do. She knows you better 
 than I." 
 
 " She comes here then ? " 
 
 " Those were her last words to me." 
 [277]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " But it may be I have no wish to remain ; no desire 
 to meet this woman." 
 
 I smiled at him. 
 
 " Your wish in the matter has small weight with me. 
 You remain where you are, and my authority is this 
 rifle." 
 
 " You '11 regret that," angrily. " Mark my words 
 now, and show some sense. I can help you escape; I 
 can point you a way through the Indian lines to your 
 own people. I have authority here, and power. Treat 
 me right, and I will do this. If you refuse I '11 turn 
 you over to the first band of stragglers to do with as 
 they please. Lay down your rifle ! You do n't dare 
 fire at me." 
 
 "And why not?" 
 
 " Because of the alarm. I am not a fool ; the Indians 
 have not deserted this neighborhood." 
 
 " I will take the risk," I asserted gravely, " rather 
 than have you get past. Do n't rely on my fear you 
 will find that dangerous. What is the harm of remain- 
 ing? Are you afraid to meet the girl? " 
 
 " Afraid ! Why should I " 
 
 A descending figure blotted out the red glare of the 
 entrance. We both stared upward unable to decide who 
 the visitor might be; I could perceive merely a dim, 
 indistinct outline. The smudge of a figure descended 
 
 [278]
 
 An Effort to Save Brady 
 
 quietly, yet with evident confidence that the dark cellar 
 was deserted. I attempted to step back, so as not to be 
 between the two, but something rattled under my foot, 
 sounding loud in the silence. The intruder stopped 
 instantly, drawing a quick breath of surprise. 
 
 "Who is here? answer!" There was the sharp 
 click of a gun lock; the words were French, the voice 
 unmistakable. 
 
 " Hayward, Mademoiselle." 
 
 She laughed in sudden relief. 
 
 " Peste! you startled me ! How came you out here. 
 Monsieur? " 
 
 " The smoke of the burning cabin drove me out ; else 
 I should have suffocated. I burst open the door." 
 
 " Burst it open ! " incredulously. " Then it was not 
 barred ? Someone had entered from this end." 
 
 " So I discovered, Mademoiselle ; one of them is here 
 with me an old acquaintance of yours." 
 
 " Of mine ! " 
 
 " Ay ! step out into the cave so the light can find 
 entrance ; now, do you know the man ? " 
 
 Her eyes wandered from me, whom she located by 
 voice, toward the Englishman, who remained silent, his 
 scarlet coat conspicuous in the glare. A moment their 
 glances met, his face showing white and drawn, hers I 
 could not see. 
 
 [279]
 
 The MM of the Forest 
 
 " Oh, so it is you, is it ! " a metallic ring to the low 
 voice. " I thought you were safely away before this. 
 And you have been hiding here. I ought to have sus- 
 pected that. Now I remember, you knew of the tunnel." 
 
 Pie did not answer, although I saw his lips move. 
 What was the man afraid of? He had been sharp and 
 snappy enough with me. 
 
 " I think you mistake, Madamoiselle," I interposed, 
 shocked at the expression of the man's face. " He has 
 told me how it occurred ; it was another who killed your 
 father." 
 
 "What other?" 
 
 " A negro half-breed ; I encountered him in the pas- 
 ,sage ; we fought it out there in the dark." 
 
 " Alone ? Where was this this man ? " 
 
 " He was lying unconscious beyond, next to the 
 entrance." 
 
 " And and," the words trembled on her lips, " you 
 killed the negro ? " 
 
 " No, Mademoiselle, I did not. We struggled to- 
 gether ; then he fired at me, and in the flash saw my face. 
 The sight seemed to frighten the man, for he broke 
 away, and endeavored to run. In his haste he forgot 
 the lowness of the tunnel, struck his head against a 
 ;sharp projection, and died." 
 
 She stood motionless, her hands pressed to her fore- 
 [280]
 
 An Effort to Save Brady 
 
 head. Suddenly she turned from me, and faced him. I 
 thought he shrank back against the wall ; but, for a long 
 moment, she stood there in silence, staring at him. 
 
 " Who was it? " she asked, at last, her voice like ice. 
 " Tell me the truth was it Picaud? " 
 
 He dropped his eyes, with an odd gesture of the shoul- 
 ders. The girl's rifle flashed to a level, so quickly I 
 could not even throw out my arm. 
 
 " Say yes, or no ! Please stand back, Monsieur : this 
 is my affair." 
 
 " Yes," the word seemed dragged from him. 
 
 " And you told Monsieur here the negro killed my 
 father? You said that? " 
 
 His lips moved, but no sound came forth from them. 
 She waited a breathless moment. 
 
 " That was a lie ! You would not dare repeat that to 
 me," she burst forth passionately, her whole body trem- 
 bling. " You thought you could tell him, and he would 
 believe you ; would pity you, and let you go. You did 
 not dream that I was here I, Rene D'Auvray, Mon- 
 sieur to face you. You are afraid of me ; yes you 
 are it is in your eyes. You think me an Indian? 
 that I will avenge myself? Is that what you fear? " 
 
 He could not look her in the face, his glance wander- 
 ing to me almost in appeal. 
 
 " I am an Indian," she went on more calmly, " but I 
 [281]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 am also French, and a Christian. I leave God to pun- 
 ish you, Monsieur. No; do not interrupt me now; I 
 care nothing for what you say. I know what you have 
 done, the lying trick which led me to desert my tribe; 
 the subsequent treachery which brought my father here 
 to his death, the falsehoods with which you induced my 
 people to declare war. There is but one punishment for 
 you; it will not come from my hands, but never again 
 will you dare put foot in a village of the Wyandots. 
 Somewhere the blow of vengeance will strike you down." 
 
 He muttered something in Indian dialect I could not 
 understand. 
 
 " You say that to me ! You dare say that ! You are 
 a bold man to try and threaten me now. Ay, do it then 
 Monsieur," and she stepped aside facing me, " this 
 brute of an Englishman claims to be my husband." 
 
 " What," I exclaimed in shocked surprise. " He told 
 me he attempted to make love to you, but failed, yet 
 hinted that marriage might have been possible." 
 
 " He did venture that far. Then, Monsieur, I will 
 tell you the truth. He won my father to him God 
 alone knows how and persuaded me to go through the 
 tribal ceremony. To me, a Christian and a French 
 woman, that mockery of form means no more than to 
 him. It was the price I paid for peace." 
 
 "But the Wyandots?" 
 
 [282]
 
 An Effort to Save Brady 
 
 " In their eyes I am this man's squaw," her voice trem- 
 bling with scorn, her hand pointing at him. " But in 
 the eyes of God, I am not. His hand has never touched 
 me never will. Monsieur, I had to tell you." 
 
 " And I am glad you did. It is better for me to 
 know." 
 
 " Oh, I begin to see," broke in the prisoner, finding 
 his voice. " 'T is not my appearance that you object 
 to, Mademoiselle, only you prefer the Yankee edition." 
 
 I strode forward threateningly. 
 
 " You low-lived coward " 
 
 " No, Monsieur, let him talk," and she caught my 
 arm. " We have no time now for a personal quarrel. 
 We must save a man's life." 
 
 "His?" 
 
 " Monsieur Brady's. There is but one way. 'T was 
 for his sake, the endeavor to save him from torture, that 
 I was so long in coming here. I did all that was in my 
 power, but those Indians are not of my tribe. They 
 might listen to me, but for the Englishman who leads 
 them. He is heartless, more cruel than any savage; 
 moreover Brady struck him, and he suspects me of aid- 
 ing you to escape. There is no mercy in him, and I 
 have failed. They mean to burn him at the stake, and 
 I could do no more." 
 
 " Where are they now? " I asked in horror. 
 [283]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " Yonder on the mainland. I could not remain to 
 witness the scene I could not, Monsieur. I was 
 under guard, but stole away in the darkness, and came 
 here, praying I might find you yet waiting. Now I 
 know God has answered my prayers. He has shown me 
 the way." 
 
 She turned from me, her eyes on his face. 
 
 " Are you any relative to Monsieur whom you resem- 
 ble so much? " 
 
 He laughed unpleasantly. 
 
 " Lord, I hope not if so the connection is too re- 
 mote to be considered. I have no desire to claim any 
 Yankee cousins. Why? " 
 
 " The reason is not material. I want you to hear 
 me. I do not know you killed my father, but I suspect 
 it, and am certain you lured him to his death. If it 
 was Picaud's hand that did the deed, it was done at your 
 desire. I would be justified as a Wyandot in killing 
 you even this Americain would grant me the right 
 but I am going to spare you, Monsieur on one con- 
 dition." 
 
 " What ? " the very sound of his voice proved his 
 realization of her seriousness. 
 
 " That you accompany me to the Indian camp yon- 
 der, and help me save that white man's life." 
 
 " What do I care " 
 
 [284]
 
 An Effort to Save Brady 
 
 " You care for your own, no doubt. Well, Monsieur, 
 it hangs by a hair. Only on such a pledge will you go 
 forth from here alive." 
 
 " You threaten to kill me? " 
 
 " It is hardly a threat it is a certainty, Monsieur. n 
 
 He looked from her face to mine, and there was small 
 sign of mercy in either. The memory of Brady and his 
 peril; the knowledge of what this man had done, his 
 cold-blooded treachery, his lies, caused the hot blood ta 
 surge through my veins. He was to me a cowardly 
 cur, and the very thought fanned my anger. 
 
 " Mademoiselle will not be the executioner," I said 
 slowly. " I will take that duty on myself." 
 
 " You ! I thought you a soldier ; would you kill me in 
 cold blood?" 
 
 " You have done the work of a spy, sir, creeping 
 in the dark like a snake. The blood of this Indian 
 war rests on you the innocent blood of women and 
 children." 
 
 " The savages would tear you limb from limb, you 
 Yankee fool," he snarled. 
 
 " Possibly, but it would be after you were dead, sir." 
 
 I thought he would spring at me, and I half hoped he 
 would. Yes, it would have been pleasant to have got 
 hand on his throat, but fear conquered anger, his hands 
 clinched, his teeth biting his lips until the blood came. 
 
 [285]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " Tell me the plan then," he said roughly. 
 
 " I can control the Indians," she went on, as if there 
 had been no interruption, " if the Englishman does not 
 interfere. It will be your part to command him." 
 
 "Who is the fellow?" 
 
 " The fur trader Lappin." 
 
 He stared into her face ; then laughed insolently. 
 
 " Then the game is up. By the gods, it would be 
 more likely he burned me. You make sport to suggest 
 I could influence that monster." 
 
 " I do not," her face changeless in its expression. 
 " There is nothing for you to laugh at. I know you two 
 are enemies, but he dare not ignore your uniform. He 
 has no authority and you have. You can accomplish 
 the rescue of this prisoner if you have the courage, and 
 will. There is only one thing for you to say yes, 
 or no." 
 
 There was absolute silence. I did not look toward 
 her, but kept my eyes on him, reading the struggle in 
 his face. I saw his eyes wander this way and that, as 
 if seeking some possible escape. He had the appear- 
 ance of a wild animal trapped, helpless. I could hear 
 his quick breath. I waited until I could stand the strain 
 no longer; then took a step backward, determined to 
 force a reply. The lock of my rifle snapped to full 
 cock, as I flung forward the barrel. 
 
 [286]
 
 An Effort to Save Brady 
 
 " Answer the lady," I commanded sternly. 
 
 His eyes settled on my face; they were furtive, 
 cowardly. 
 
 " Oh well I '11 go," he said slowly and sullenly. 
 " But it 's little enough good you '11 get out of it, I 
 promise you." 
 
 [87]
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE FIRE IN THE CLEARING 
 
 T LOWERED the rifle, but with mind fully made up as 
 
 to my own part in the play. That the man contem- 
 plated treachery was sufficiently clear. How it might 
 be prevented occurred to me in a flash. 
 
 " I understand your intention," I said sharply. 
 " Now I am going to give you warning that your life 
 hangs in the balance. If I comprehend the desire of 
 this lady it is that you accompany her alone to where 
 these Indians hold their prisoner for torture is that 
 true, Mademoiselle?" 
 
 I was not looking at her, yet I knew her eyes were 
 upon my face in wonderment. 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur ; together we will seek to save 
 your friend." 
 
 " So I thought. But this man has no such intention. 
 He has promised merely to free himself. Once within 
 that Indian camp he will be out of danger, safe by the 
 magic of his uniform, and his office. He will denounce 
 us both, and lift no hand in defense of Brady." 
 
 " You lie, you Yankee coward ! " 
 
 " It was in your eyes, sir, as you gave pledge. Ever 
 [289]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 since Mademoiselle came you have been seeking oppor- 
 tunity for escape. She may trust you, but I do not, 
 and you are not going there with Mademoiselle alone." 
 
 " What is that you say ? " she questioned, her hand 
 on my arm. " It must be so, Monsieur ; there is no 
 other way. The man dare not fail; he would thus 
 atone " 
 
 " No, he will not fail, because if he does he dies right 
 there," I interrupted quietly. " Listen now ; it is 
 night, and I go along with you on this errand of mercy. 
 It is my comrade condemned to the stake, and I will 
 have my share in his rescue. You will go, the two of 
 you, directly into the Indian camp; you may win, or 
 you may fail in your pleas for mercy but there will 
 be no treachery. Do you know why, sir? " and I stared 
 him in the face, angered by the sneer on his lip. 
 " You 'd better pay heed ! Because I shall lie hidden in 
 the dark, outside the radius of the firelight, with rifle 
 trained on your heart. Not for an instant will you be 
 beyond my power to kill. They count me a good shot 
 along this border, and if you say a word, or raise a 
 hand in treachery to this girl, I shall kill you." 
 
 " It will cost you your life, you devil." 
 
 " That does n't frighten me in the least. We may 
 look alike ; we may even have some of the same blood in 
 our veins God knows I hope not but there all 
 
 [290]
 
 The Fire in the Clearing 
 
 resemblance ends. I will do what I say ; do you believe 
 that?" 
 
 He did not move nor answer, but he believed. Con- 
 viction was written plainly on his face. Mademoiselle's 
 hand was still on my arm, and I felt her grasp tighten. 
 I ventured to turn my eyes aside to glance at her. 
 
 " Have I spoken rightly? " 
 
 " Old, Monsieur," softly. " I like you." 
 
 My pulses leaped in response to the unexpected 
 words. Impulsive, unreserved, the swift outpouring of 
 her heart, they were sufficient reward; I read in them 
 meanings far deeper than she intended. No doubt 
 she saw this in my face, for her cheeks flamed, and she 
 drew back, turning swiftly toward him. 
 
 " It shall be as the Americain says," her voice trem- 
 bling slightly. " I believe in him he is a man." 
 
 There was a bitter retort on his lips, but he caught 
 my eyes in time, and smothered it with a curse. God 
 knows I needed but an excuse to throttle him, which he 
 was swift to see. 
 
 " Go on now," I commanded grimly, " and do not 
 forget. Mademoiselle, do you go first, and show the 
 way. I will keep good guard of the rear." 
 
 She gave me her hand in a long, lingering clasp, and 
 then her slender figure blotted out the red glare as she 
 mounted the steps. 
 
 [291]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " You next, sir," the words sufficiently polite, but 
 my rifle flung forward, in readiness to enforce the brief 
 order. 
 
 " Curse you ! I '11 make you pay for this ! " 
 
 " Hold yourself to words, and threats," I returned 
 coolly, " but do as I say move on ! " 
 
 He climbed the stairs, muttering savagely, with me 
 following so close behind the muzzle of my gun touched 
 his back. There had come into my heart a deep hatred 
 of the fellow that left me almost vengeful ; he had acted 
 like a cur already; had lied to her; had deceived her 
 into what was practically a mock marriage; had been 
 responsible for her father's murder, and even now 
 planned treachery. No sympathy, no mercy, appealed 
 to me. 
 
 At the top the light from the blazing logs gave us full 
 view of each other, but there was danger in remaining 
 there thus exposed. The girl turned sharply to the 
 left, leading the way into the woods, and then circling 
 toward the ford. There was no word spoken, save as 
 I gave a brief order or two. As we came into the black 
 shadows of the overhanging trees, I walked close 
 enough behind to touch him ever with my rifle barrel. 
 
 " I am playing safe," I muttered grimly, " so do n't 
 try any tricks in the dark." 
 
 We came out on the shore, pausing a moment to gaze 
 [292 ]
 
 The Fire in the Clearing 
 
 out across the water to the gloom of the mainland. 
 There was shouting in the distance, faintly echoed along 
 the smooth surface of the lake, and to the right a slight 
 reddening of the sky above the trees. 
 
 "The camp is yonder?" I asked, feeling my flesh 
 creep in horror. " It is there they torture the 
 prisoner? " 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur ; the savages are all there now. 
 They do not fear interruption." 
 
 " Yet they know of my escape? " 
 
 " Yes; Lappin and the Ojibwa chief believe I helped 
 you. 'T is that which made them angry. When I 
 interposed for Monsieur Brady urging that he was 
 on a mission of peace, and should be taken as a prisoner 
 to the Wyandots they drove me from the camp. It 
 was best I go, for I could do nothing they were not 
 my people." 
 
 " But why did they not search for me ? " 
 
 " Because they were baffled, Monsieur ; they found 
 no trail. I sank the broken boat in the lake, and when 
 they found where it had been dragged along the shore, 
 they believed you had crossed the water, and got safely 
 away. Against me they were mad with hate. They 
 would have laid hands on me, only Lappin knew the 
 Wyandots were coming." 
 
 "Here? this way?" 
 
 [293]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " That is the story whispered me by a friendly Shaw- 
 nee. Already there is war, and the tribes gather to 
 attack the Americains. The Wyandots follow this trail. 
 'T is because Lappin knows this he urges the torture. 
 If we can delay until my people come these outlaws will 
 be like sheep. Come, Monsieur, we must go." 
 
 Her swiftly spoken words had rendered the dreadful 
 situation clear. The fur-trader, by nature a brutal 
 renegade, angered by resistance, by my attack on him 
 in the forest, by Rene's successful effort at my escape, 
 had determined in his vengeful heart that Stephen 
 Brady should pay the full price of it all. Possibly he 
 had some personal reason also for desiring to see the 
 old scout suffer. And he possessed the power ; he com- 
 manded the band of Shawnees, and the others were out- 
 casts easily inflamed to any deviltry. But the deed 
 must be done quickly, without delay, before the Wyan- 
 dots came. 
 
 We went down into the water together, the girl lead- 
 ing the way in confidence, holding her rifle high above 
 her head. Trusting to her to find safe footing I kept 
 my eyes on the prisoner. There was no word spoken, 
 no noise except the soft ripple of the water against our 
 bodies. Wet and dripping we climbed the bank of the 
 main shore. It was dark under the trees, so we could 
 scarcely distinguish each other. She paused, listening 
 
 [294]
 
 The Fire in the Clearing 
 
 to the yells of the savages, now sounding much nearer, 
 and in greater volume. Then she peered about into 
 our faces. 
 
 " I cannot tell the one from the other," in a whisper, 
 " only as I know the Americain bears the gun. Now 
 hear me, both of you. There are no guards set, for 
 those Indians believe there is no enemy near, yet we 
 cannot be too cautious. There is a trail here leading 
 to the opening in the forest where they are. I know 
 it well, and can follow it in the dark." She touched the 
 Englishman's sleeve. " You will take hold of the bar- 
 rel of my gun so ! and advance as I do ; and you, 
 Monsieur " 
 
 " Do not fear my being lost," I interrupted confi- 
 dently. " Our friend will feel me at his back every step 
 of the way." 
 
 It was a crooked path, winding around trees, and 
 through thickets of dense undergrowth. To my eyes 
 there was little of guidance, but my thought was con- 
 centrated on the man I guarded. Once he swore, but 
 ceased instantly as I punched him with the rifle muzzle. 
 I rubbed against trees, my feet tangled in roots, strag- 
 gling undergrowth slapped me in the face. The 
 advance was slow, cautious, the Indian in Mademoiselle 
 showing in every stealthy movement. I could not see 
 her at all, nor distinguish a motion ; not a twig snapped 
 
 [295]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 under her moccasined feet; not a leaf rustled against 
 her body. It was still as death where we were; only 
 those fiendish yells piercing the blackness ahead yielded 
 me any sense of reality. They sounded like the cries 
 of devils, and brought with them the thought that we 
 were approaching the mouth of hell. Then, through 
 the screen of tree trunks there came to my straining 
 eyes the red, sinister glare of fire. 
 
 I do not know how close we ventured before Mademoi- 
 selle stopped, and crouched down in the narrow path. 
 Seldom before had I realized what real shuddering fear 
 was, but I shook then like an aspen, gritting my teeth 
 in an effort at self-control. Against the glimmer of 
 light ahead I could perceive the outlines of the two 
 the man half sheltered behind a tree ; the girl kneeling, 
 with one hand parting the bushes before her. He 
 glanced about furtively, catching my eyes, a ghastly, 
 scared look on his face. In fear lest his panic might 
 drive him to some mad act, I laid a hand heavily on his 
 shoulder. He swallowed in his throat, giving utterance 
 to a smothered groan ; then stared the other way. She 
 turned her head slightly at the faint sound, and the red 
 light was on her face. Just that swift glimpse made 
 me ashamed of my weakness, my cowardice. I stood 
 straight, my fingers gripping him in a vise, my glance 
 on the hideous scene revealed. I could see little, mere 
 
 [296]
 
 The Fire in the Clearing 
 
 glimpses through the intervening branches, yet enough 
 to show that we were close to the edge of a small clear- 
 ing in which a considerable fire burned. The red and 
 yellow flames lit up the open space fairly well, but all 
 around the black forest wall closed in tightly. It was 
 like a grotesque picture in a frame. Before the fire, 
 mostly with their backs toward us, I counted twenty 
 savages on the grass, their red skins and matted hair 
 showing clearly. They were silent, motionless, appar- 
 ently staring into the flames. The fiendish yelling 
 came from beyond, from the other side of the fire, where 
 I caught fitful glimpse of wildly dancing figures, of 
 arms flung in air, of brandished guns, and streaming 
 hair. I knew not which was the more terrifying spec- 
 tacle that mad dance, or those silent, brooding fig- 
 ures the unrestrained savagery of youth, or the grim 
 barbarism of age. I read the meaning of it all in a 
 glance the council determining the prisoner's fate 
 the warriors assured already of his condemnation. Yet 
 where was Brady? Where was the fur-trader? Al- 
 though I leaned forward, searching widely on either 
 side, I could discover neither man. Then, suddenly, 
 the two came forward out of the darkness directly to 
 where the chiefs sat. 
 
 I saw Mademoiselle rise silently to her feet, but my 
 hand only gripped harder on the Englishman's shoul- 
 
 [297]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 der as I watched. Brady advanced between two 
 Indians, his arms bound behind him, a bloody cloth 
 concealing his jaw. He was bare-headed, his clothing 
 rags, and he staggered slightly as he walked. An 
 Indian struck him with a stick, a vicious blow, and 
 Lappin jerked him forward between the chiefs and the 
 fire. The warriors sat there impassive, emotionless, 
 their eyes cold and merciless. Brady looked into that 
 ring of savage faces without a quiver, throwing back 
 his shoulders, blood trickling down one cheek. It even 
 seemed to me his eyes smiled. Then one of the chiefs 
 spoke without rising, in deep guttural voice. I heard 
 the words, but they were meaningless, a jumble of 
 sound, yet somehow menacing, gruff with threat. The 
 discordant yelling ceased, and a dark mass of forms 
 clustered beyond the blaze, drawing together in a half 
 circle behind the prisoner. The light played over dark, 
 sinister faces and sparkled in the wild savage eyes. It 
 was a horrid scene that small open space lit up by 
 the fire glare, and banked about by the black wall of 
 trees, filled with those demons, half naked, repulsive, 
 weapons gleaming in their hands, their glittering eyes 
 on the helpless Brady waiting the torture. As I looked 
 forth upon it I grew sick, my limbs trembling. 
 
 The girl stepped backward, noiselessly, until she stood 
 beside me, her hand touching my arm. 
 
 [298]
 
 The Fire in the Clearing 
 
 " We are here in time," she whispered, " but can 
 delay no longer." 
 
 " He is condemned then? They will not spare him? " 
 
 " The chief speaks in Shawnee, and I know little of 
 the tongue, but there is no mercy in his words." 
 
 " And you mean to go out there, to face those fiends ? 
 Are you not afraid? " 
 
 She smiled, a sad, brave smile up into my eyes. 
 
 " Monsieur, I must," she said pleadingly. " It is not 
 only his life, but my duty. I leave my rifle here, and 
 bear this ; with Christ I am not afraid." 
 
 And in her clasped hands, reddened by the flames, I 
 saw a crucifix. 
 
 [299]
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 THE RECOGNITION 
 
 O HE bowed her head, her lips pressed to the cross, 
 and, when she looked up again into my face, I had 
 no words to say; I could but choke, and brush tears 
 from my eyes. 
 
 " It is right, Monsieur," she murmured softly. " You 
 would not have me fail. I I am glad you care so 
 much." She lifted her head and faced him. " You are 
 ready, Lieutenant Hayward ? " 
 
 The question came to him with a shock, his eyes wan- 
 dering from her face to mine, and then beyond to the 
 red fire. There was a ghastliness to his face horrible 
 to look upon. 
 
 " If I must yes," he managed to articulate in a 
 voice that shook. " Yet I I dread the task ; some 
 instinct tells me we will fail. I would it were any white 
 man in these woods out there rather than Lappin." He 
 glared at me, angry at himself for exhibiting such 
 weakness. '* I am no coward, sir she knows that to 
 be true. I have done England's work on this frontier 
 for five long years, and faced death more than once 
 but this, this," a sudden shudder shook him, " is like 
 
 [301]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 walking open-eyed into hell. Mademoiselle, we cannot 
 save the man. We but throw our own lives away. 
 'T is not the Indians I fear, but that fur-trader ; he is 
 the devil's own imp." 
 
 " It may be so, yet I try," her voice firm with pur- 
 pose. " Under Christ I can do no less. Lappin dare 
 not lay hand on you, Monsieur you, an officer in uni- 
 form. However he may hate he would never venture 
 that. I fail to perceive what you have to fear. But 
 I am going going now, whether you come with me, 
 or stay here." 
 
 " Lieutenant Hayward is going with you, Mademoi- 
 selle," I said sternly. " He is man enough for that, I 
 hope." I drew him about so I could look squarely into 
 his eyes. " This is no boy's play, but a man's work. 
 We are of the same race, perchance, however long ago 
 the family line divided. I care nothing for that now. 
 The man bound out yonder, condemned to the stake, is 
 my comrade. Your word of authority can save him 
 from torture and death. Go, and speak it. No mat- 
 ter what your excuse, you are a treacherous coward; 
 you are afraid. Now listen, man ! You have far more 
 reason to fear me than all that savage crew ; for I swear 
 to you that if you fail this woman I will kill you where 
 you stand. This is no threat ; these are no idle words. 
 Now go!" 
 
 [302]
 
 The Recognition 
 
 " Monsieur " 
 
 I put her hand aside, thoroughly aroused by the 
 man's reluctance. 
 
 " Not now, Rene ; this has become my task. He will 
 do well to understand all I mean. Is this man Lappin 
 an Englishman? Come, find your voice, sir! " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then talk to him in English ; I wish to hear all you 
 have to say. No, I shall not remain here ; I will find a 
 place where I can see everything; where you cannot 
 hide. There will not be an instant when my rifle does 
 not point at your heart. Mademoiselle? " 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur." 
 
 " If this man speaks a word of treachery; if by look 
 or gesture he attempts to play us false, will you give me 
 a sign ? " 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur." 
 
 " Clasp your hands like this about your head ; it will 
 be his death warrant. Now, sir, are you ready? " 
 
 There was hate in his eyes, but I was glad of it. The 
 very intensity with which he hated me at that moment, 
 had brought back his courage. He had forgotten all 
 else in a mad desire to get revenge on me. I let him 
 read defiance, scorn in my own face, and the look stung 
 him like the lash of a whip. 
 
 "Oh! but I'll get you for this. Yes, I'm ready, 
 [303]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 you clod of a Yankee peasant ! but you '11 pay before 
 ever you get out of these woods oh, Lord! you'll 
 pay." 
 
 I half thought he would spring at me, and drew back, 
 my rifle lifted. But he only laughed, his lips snarling, 
 and strode past crunching his way through the thicket. 
 I caught the swift upward glance of the girl's eyes a 
 message of thanks, ay ! more and she had followed 
 him. I sprang aside amid the trunks of trees, confident 
 I could not be seen, that every savage eye would be 
 riveted upon those two advancing figures. The light 
 afforded me sufficient guidance, and I possessed some, 
 idea of where I wished to go. I found it with a dozen 
 quick steps, and, even as the first wild scream of dis- 
 covery burst from the red throats, I crept in behind a 
 decaying log, at the ver} r edge of the opening, and 
 thrust my rifle barrel across the rotten bark. Deliber- 
 ately, coolly, with full determination to act, I drew 
 bead on the red jacket. 
 
 They were not five yards away, advancing straight 
 toward the startled group of chiefs, the girl slightly in 
 advance, the firelight on her uplifted face, the white 
 crucifix gleaming in her hands. The Englishman, a 
 step behind, his first mad anger already dying, walked 
 like a criminal, with lowered head, and eyes glancing 
 furtively aside. Even by then the treacherous coward- 
 
 [304]
 
 The Recognition 
 
 ice of him had returned. At sight of his face I cocked 
 rny weapon, every nerve taut as a bow-string, breath- 
 ing through clinched teeth. I cannot say that I saw 
 much of what occurred in that first moment I had no 
 eyes but for the red jacket and yet I must have per- 
 ceived it all. I remember now the whole scene, as if it 
 hung painted before me, in all its vivid coloring and 
 rapid movement. I saw the chiefs start up, grasping 
 their weapons, at the first screech of alarm, a fierce 
 intensity in their eyes. A glance at those two unarmed 
 figures, and they stood still, gazing at them, yet with a 
 shadow upon the dark, scowling faces that chilled my 
 blood. The yelling ceased; there was no sound, but 
 the pressing forward of bodies, and the crackle of 
 flames. The Shawnee chief, a dark, saturnine face 
 showing under his war-bonnet, stood erect with folded 
 arms. Down the lane of warriors, apparently obliv- 
 ious to their presence, Mademoiselle came, the English- 
 man slouching behind. The crowd of figures hid for a 
 moment Brady and his guard, and surged in between 
 me and Lappin. 
 
 There was silence; I could hear the wind in the tree 
 tops, the restless movements, the heavy breathing of 
 the excited savages ; somewhere a dog barked. Rene 
 stopped, her hand now touching the soldier's sleeve, her 
 eyes on the dark, savage face confronting her. A mo- 
 
 [305]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 ment he stared at her, then at the Englishman, while I 
 held my breath. 
 
 " Why you here 'gain ? " he asked in halting 
 English, the face like bronze. " I send you to 
 forest why come back? " 
 
 " Because I am a Wyandot, and a Christian," she 
 answered, the words slow and distinct. " We kill war- 
 riors in battle, not by torture, Sis-e-te-wah. I come 
 with this that I may beg your prisoner's life. See; it 
 is the cross of the Great God." 
 
 " Huh ! " he grunted. " Why should we listen to 
 a squaw ? the warriors of the Shawnees are 
 men." 
 
 " So are the Wyandots, Sis-e-te-wah ; they are as the 
 birds of the air. Once they came to the villages of the 
 Shawnees. You know it well they were warriors, 
 under great chiefs. Yet they listen to words of wisdom 
 from a squaw. I am Running Water; I have sat in 
 the councils of my people ; I am the daughter of the 
 White Chief." She glanced about her proudly, look- 
 ing into the ring of dark faces. " I am a squaw, but 
 I am a Wyandot no Shawnee dare place a hand 
 on me." 
 
 " 'T is so," he answered gravely. " I know but 
 not my young men. It best you go I speak true 
 the white man will die it has been decided the 
 
 [306]
 
 The Recognition 
 
 Shawnees know not your God the God of the Long 
 Robes the white man dies." 
 
 ** But he came in peace, not war ; he was a messenger 
 to the Wyandots." 
 
 The chief had stepped back, and lifted his hand, but 
 now he stood statue-like before her. 
 
 " He great hunter he warrior we have met 
 in battle. He kill warriors my tribe now he 
 die it is spoken. Sis-e-te-wah listen no more." 
 
 " But you must ! you shall ! " she insisted. " 'T is 
 not the Wyandots alone who say this. You may refuse 
 me; you may disregard the cross I bear, but you dare 
 not disobey the word of the English of the great chief 
 across the water. If you will not heed the word of a 
 squaw, listen to this man a warrior of the Red 
 Coats." 
 
 " I know him not," coldly, " nor care what he 
 says. He nothing to Sis-e-te-wah why he 
 come here ? " 
 
 " To stop this deed, this dastardly outrage ; he speaks 
 for the Great Chief. J T is best the Shawnees listen. 
 Now, Monsieur." 
 
 She stepped aside, and the Englishman stood alone, 
 facing the grim-faced Shawnee. The very desperation 
 of his position had brought to him courage; he knew 
 enough of Indian nature to be aware that any cringing 
 
 [307]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 now would add to his peril. Ay, he knew more, that 
 the shadow of death hung over him. I saw him glance 
 aside, sweeping the black edge of the forest, as though 
 he sought to locate me; then he straightened up, every 
 nerve taut, a soldier of England. For a moment I 
 felt a thrill, almost of pride, as unshrinking before the 
 scowl of the chief, the man stared back into the unwink- 
 ing eyes. Yet this suddenly assumed boldness of front 
 was no mystery; these savages were England's allies; 
 only by her aid was war possible however they might 
 bluster and threaten, no hostile hand dare touch him. 
 This he knew, realized to the full. Let the dark faces 
 scowl, the young warriors shake their tomahawks, and 
 scream insult; back of him stood power and authority. 
 I could read this conviction in the man's face, as the 
 firelight played upon it. In calm assurance he folded 
 his arms. 
 
 " You say you know not who I am, Sis-e-te-wah," he 
 said sharply. " Then I will tell you ; you and your 
 warriors. I am an officer of England, an aide to Ham- 
 ilton. Will you hear me now ? " 
 
 There was silence, profound, breathless ; the bold 
 defiance had fallen upon them like a blow. Then, before 
 even the chief could answer, the crowding ring of Indians 
 was broken, and into the circle of firelit space strode 
 the fur-trader, his mottled face purple, his mustache 
 
 [308]
 
 The Recognition 
 
 bristling. One moment he glowered into the soldier's 
 face, and the latter stepped back recoiling against Ma- 
 demoiselle, all his audacity gone. Lappin laughed, the 
 cruel echo of it breaking the silence. 
 
 " A soldier of England ! an aide to Hamilton ! You 
 lie. When Hamilton knows what I know he will tear 
 you limb from limb. You come here to frighten us with 
 your threats you ! I spit upon you ! Sis-e-te-wah, 
 warriors, hear me; you know who I am; I travel with 
 you on the war-trail ; I go with you into battle. Now 
 I speak with the straight tongue. You do not know this 
 man, but I do. See; he dare not face me; watch him 
 shrink back afraid. Well! there is reason." 
 
 " I fear you, Jules Lappin ? " 
 
 " Ay ! and with cause. Knew you ever the time I 
 failed to pay my debts? or wreak my vengeance? I 
 have you now, and will crush the white-livered heart out 
 of you with these hands. Listen, Shawnees, Miamis, 
 Ojibwas, while I tell you who this fellow is. Then give 
 him to me I ask no more." 
 
 He stopped, bent forward, his fingers clinched. Tne 
 ring of Indians pressed closer, but the old chief waved 
 them back, standing motionless. 
 
 " Speak, Englishman," he said with dignity, " we will 
 hear." 
 
 Lappin half turned to face them, one hand gripping 
 [309]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 the knife at his belt. Like a white ghost Mademoiselle 
 slipped silently in between the two men. I saw it all 
 over the brown barrel of my rifle, my heart throbbing 
 fiercely. 
 
 " He is a renegade, a traitor," and Lappin's hand 
 pointed at the man he accused, " the uniform he wears 
 a lie. How do I know? Because he fought me yonder 
 in the woods on the island ; because he was in the cabin 
 with the others. This is the man who was left for dead, 
 who escaped. Do you recognize him now? " 
 
 I saw the red faces, and heard the scream of voices. 
 
 " Ay ! you do ; and the woman, the Wyandot squaw, 
 helped him. I said so before ; now we have the proof. 
 You drove her out, afraid to treat her as an enemy, and 
 she goes to him, thinking his uniform will frighten you 
 into sparing the hunter from torture. She brings him 
 here to threaten you with what England will do. What 
 say you, Shawnees, to the dog ! " 
 
 The voices burst into a wild yell that seemed to split 
 the night, but the fur trader flung up his hand. 
 
 " Back all of yer ! " he roared savagely. " I claim 
 this man as mine! Who has better right? I '11 throttle 
 the life out of him with my bare hands before yer all. 
 Have your warriors give us space, Sis-e-te-wah." 
 
 The chief of the Shawnees, his eyes blazing under 
 tangled hair, uplifted his arms. 
 
 [310]
 
 The Recognition 
 
 " 'T is the white man's right," he ordered grimly. 
 " I have spoken." 
 
 I drew in my breath sharply, yet what could I do? 
 The rifle trembled in my grasp, but I dare not use it. 
 The unfortunate Englishman stood in my place, was 
 mistaken for me, but if I revealed myself it could serve 
 no end would only leave me helpless to aid the girl. 
 I could not think of him at that moment, but only of 
 her. What would be her fate when this struggle was 
 over? Maddened by the fight could those savages be 
 controlled? Would she be spared? I had no time to 
 think ; my blood was like ice I could only look, look 
 at that hideous spectacle, reddened by flame, as my lips 
 muttered a prayer, " God help me to do the best 
 thing!" 
 
 It was all the work of an instant. Lappin whirled on 
 his victim, flinging his gun to the ground. 
 
 " Face me, you cur, you spy ! " he shouted. " Come 
 out from behind that squaw. You got me once when 
 my foot slipped. Let's see what you can do now. 
 What ! you won't ! Well, you will ! " 
 
 He thrust Rene back, hurling her with one sweep of 
 his arm into the crowding ranks of warriors, one of 
 whom clutched her as she fell. Then he struck the 
 shrinking, startled Englishman a vicious blow in the 
 face. 
 
 [311]
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 IN THE HANDS OF SAVAGES 
 
 T SAW the red welt on the white cheek left by the fur- 
 
 trader's rough hand. Hayward staggered back from 
 the force of the blow, his arms flung up, a sudden pass- 
 ing of anger darkening his eyes. This was more than 
 flesh and blood could stand, and not retaliate. Wild 
 rage usurped the place of courage ; his lips snarled like 
 a cornered wolf ; he had forgotten all but hate. It was 
 not a man, but a maddened animal who crouched for a 
 spring. 
 
 " Fight you ! I will ! Yes, to the death," he snapped 
 out hotly. " But you lie when you say I fought you 
 before ; when you say I was in the cabin you lie, you 
 dog of a white savage you lie ! " 
 
 " Messieurs, it is a mistake," I caught the girl's pro- 
 testing voice in the hush. " It was not " 
 
 " A lie, hey ! " Lappin broke in crazed with rage. 
 " What am I blind ! I saw you, you hound, with my 
 own eyes. Shut the squaw up. Oh ! you will ; then have 
 it now ! " 
 
 They met like two enraged bucks in a forest, clutching 
 at each other in blind, deadly battle. They were big 
 
 [313]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 men, evenly matched, fired with hatred. Perhaps there 
 was an old score to be wiped out in blood ; now and then 
 some word sobbed out in the din of that struggle made 
 me think so. Be that as it may, from the first grip, 
 the first blow, they were beasts not men, striking, goug- 
 ing, tearing at throat and face ; using feet, or hands, or 
 knees, in sheer savagery. Never did I witness such 
 fighting, such mad barbarism, the ferocity of which 
 stopped at nothing. The soldier I knew was unarmed, 
 but a knife dangled at Lappin's belt. Either he forgot 
 it, or in his rage disdained to use the steel. I saw the 
 glitter of the naked blade in the firelight, as the two 
 surged back and forth, gripped in each other's arms, 
 their muscles strained with mighty effort. Oh ! how they 
 fought like two cats, snarling and snapping, throt- 
 tling each other, occasionally an arm breaking free to 
 send a clinched fist crashing into an exposed face. Once 
 the soldier went down to his knees, and Lappin kicked 
 him, only to be gripped himself and flung headlong. 
 But they were up together, bleeding both, panting for 
 breath, clothes half ripped off their bodies, cursing 
 fiercely, as they rushed at each other once more. They 
 were silent now from sheer lack of wind, desperate, real- 
 izing each that he must kill or be killed. There was no 
 mercy asked, or given. Straining, stumbling, exerting 
 <every ounce of strength, using every trick, they swung 
 
 [314]
 
 In the Hands of Savages 
 
 back and forth across the open firelit space. It was. 
 brutal, devilish. Ay ! and so were those who watched. 
 
 Merciful Mother ! What a sight that was ! I, a sol- 
 dier, and border-bred, hid my face in my arms and 
 yet I looked and saw. The very ferocity of it was a 
 fascinating horror the black, black night above, 
 around ; the forests shutting them in ; the howling dogs 
 snapping at their heels ; the red glare of fire, and that 
 ring of yelping savages, dancing back and forth to give 
 the combatants room. Rene had disappeared forced 
 back into the half crazed mass, as the savages surged 
 forward; of Brady I caught no glimpse. That was no 
 scene to ever forget, to blot out with passing years. 
 The wild savagery of it burned in on the brain ; those 
 dark faces, with wild eyes and dangling hair ; the wav- 
 ing arms, and leaping bodies, the gleam of weapons 
 tossed aloft, the jangle and din of excited voices in 
 jargon of unknown tongues. How the red flames danced 
 over them all, now in shadow, now in glare of light, mak- 
 ing them appear fiends incarnate. And those two bat- 
 tling in the midst, huge men in death grapple, fighting 
 as tigers fight remorseless, merciless ; tearing each 
 other's flesh, battering each other's faces, gripping, 
 clutching, straining in effort at mastery. Again and 
 again they crunched into the crowd, reeling from blows, 
 or hurled back by sheer strength of muscle ; they sobbed 
 
 [315]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 forth curses, staggering with weakness. I saw Lappin 
 drive his head into his opponent's stomach as though it 
 were a battering-ram; I saw the soldier sink his teeth 
 into the fur-trader's hand, as if he were a mad dog. 
 T was then the brute reached down and fumbled for his 
 knife found it, and, with one hoarse cry of triumph, 
 sent the bright blade home. Twice he struck, and they 
 went staggering down together, locked in each other's 
 arms, the soldier dead ere he struck the ground. 
 
 It was bedlam then, followed by a breathless hush as 
 Sis-e-te-wah pressed forward with uplifted arms. Two 
 warriors lifted Lappin to his feet, and, as his gripping 
 hand plucked out the knife from the wound, I saw the 
 gush of blood crimsoning the dead man's side. An 
 instant the victor stood staring down, reeling in weak- 
 ness, upheld by others. Then he laughed, waving the 
 dripping blade. 
 
 " Ah ! good ! " he cried. " There is one more recruit 
 for hell. Bring me the girl here. *T is time she had 
 her lesson also." 
 
 They brought her forward, a red brave grasping 
 either arm. I caught sight of her face, white, drawn, 
 but not with fear, and sighted my rifle across the log at 
 the white ruffian's breast. With clinched lips I lay, 
 finger to trigger. Yet I waited thank God, I waited. 
 1 know not what restrained me, only it t/as no fear of 
 
 [316]
 
 In the Hands of Savages 
 
 consequences to myself. It must hare been the expres- 
 sion of the woman's uplifted face, the quick glance she 
 cast about, as though in silent warning to me. I took 
 it as a signal, a message of restraint. The fnr trader, 
 burly and brutal, still panting for breath, yet able to 
 stand alone now, and conscious of his victory, thrust 
 his reeking knife back into his belt with a coarse laugh. 
 
 " How do you like that, you Wyandot squaw ? " he 
 asked, leering down into her face. 
 
 " When you have these men release my arms I will 
 answer you," she returned quietly. 
 
 " Oh, you will, hey ! You '11 be glad enough to 
 talk before I am through. Let go of her there yes ; 
 that 's what I mean. Now look here there lies your 
 English officer. He 's paid the price of being a fooL 
 Look at him ; are you ready to speak now ? " 
 
 She glanced down at the motionless figure, the up- 
 turned face, white even with the red flames playing over 
 it; she even took a step nearer that she might see more 
 distinctly, one hand shadowing her eyes. Then she 
 straightened up, and looked into Lappin's blood-stained 
 face. 
 
 " He was nothing to me," she said slowly, " nothing. 
 But he fought a man's fight, and was killed by cowardly 
 treachery." 
 
 " What ! You squaw, you dare " 
 [817]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " Of course I dare. Do you suppose I fear you, 
 Jules Lappin, or your gang of outlaws?" her voice 
 scornful. " Why, I challenge you to lay hand on me. 
 You know who I am; you have eaten in the tepee of 
 my father. I know who you are, and I despise you. 
 You call me a Wyandot squaw; threaten what you will 
 do; point me to this dead man whom you have mur- 
 dered. Why? to frighten me me? Very well, I'll 
 answer you. I am a Wyandot ; I am Running Water ; 
 but in my veins flows also the best blood of France. 
 Mine is not a race of cowards and murderers, thieves 
 and traders ; my ancestors were soldiers and men. And 
 you think I am afraid of you you cur of the woods ; 
 afraid of you ! Touch me, Jules Lappin, if you dare ; 
 I challenge you. Come, I wait for you to lay hand 
 on me." 
 
 He stared at her sullenly, angry enough, yet with the 
 bullying look gone from his mottled face. Something 
 about the girl her sharp words, her cool defiance 
 had left him uncertain. 
 
 " More than that, Jules Lappin," she went on pas- 
 sionately, " you are going to pay for all this," and she 
 pointed down at the dead body, " pay for it, do you 
 understand ! That man was what he claimed to be 
 an aide to Hamilton. England pays her debts, Mon- 
 sieur Lappin. Ay, and so do the Wyandots ; have you 
 
 [318]
 
 forgotten that so soon? Have you forgotten what befell 
 the Frenchman, Phillipe Bridau? Have you blotted 
 from memory already the fate of Michael Cozad? You 
 were in our village when the chiefs of the Wyandots. 
 dealt out justice to these renegades. Answer me! " 
 
 He did not, yet he drew a step back, and swept his 
 hand over his eyes. 
 
 " Oh, you do remember, and it is not so pleasant to 
 recall. Well, you have threatened me; you have had 
 these Indians hold me prisoner; you have killed my 
 companion, with whom I came to you on a mission of 
 peace. Do you expect the Wyandots to forgive, or to 
 forget? They are on this trail tonight, marching to 
 join the tribes in war you told me that but a few 
 hours ago. They are out yonder in the dark ; they will 
 pass by here. Do you think, Monsieur Lappin, there is 
 a covert of the forest that will hide you? Do you 
 imagine this rabble of savage outcasts can protect you 
 from the vengeance of the Wyandots ? It is not for me 
 to beg for mercy ; you had better ask it at my hands." 
 
 The cool boldness of her words stunned the fellow. 
 I could see him glance about into the dark woods, and 
 then at the faces of the savages pressing about them. 
 Few among them understood what was said, and their 
 gestures, the fierce expression of their eyes, gave the 
 renegade courage. He had already gone too far for 
 [319]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 ^retreat ; his only chance now was to proceed to brow- 
 beat this girl, frighten her, and trust to the wilderness 
 for a hiding place. The Wyandots were not coming 
 this way ; he knew that much, and he felt his nerve come 
 back at the remembratoce they were bound south to 
 the Maumee; their route would lie miles to the west- 
 ward, beyond the lake. Ay, he was safe enough. And 
 this chit of a girl had tried to bluff him, to make him 
 cringe before these Indians. Hot anger flamed up in 
 his heart. He had the power, and he would use it. As 
 to the future, the world was wide ! 
 
 I imagined I saw all this written on his face, in the 
 stiffening of his body, in the look he cast at Sis-e-te-wah, 
 and those warriors hemming him about. He was now 
 Armed with anger, his back to the wall ; he would fight, 
 not run ! Bah ! what was there to run from the raving 
 of a squaw ! Yet, even then his hand shook, as he waved 
 it before him. 
 
 " Stand aside, all of yer ; get back and give us room, 
 jrer red scum ! " he roared, his rage increasing as he 
 .gave it vent in words. " Well, I 've heard yer talk, all 
 of it, you breed, an' that 's what I care for your 
 threats," and he snapped his fingers in her face. As 
 she stood silent, motionless, looking straight at him 
 with scorn unutterable in her eyes, the brute clinched 
 Hs red fist, stepping forward as if he would strike. 
 
 [320]
 
 In the Hands of Savages 
 
 " Curse yer ! I 'm a mind to let yer have some of the 
 same medicine I gave him. You '11 laugh at Jules Lap- 
 pin, will yer ? Oh, ho ! but I know a better way than that 
 to make yer cry. By all the gods, we '11 roast that 
 Yankee friend of yours to a turn, and you '11 stand by 
 and watch. That '11 fetch the two of yer to yer senses. 
 Here, Shawnees, two of yer come here. Pick up this 
 carrion, and throw it out of the way, over there in the 
 edge of the wood. We '11 want this space presently. 
 Sis-e-te-wah ? " 
 
 " The chief is here," with dignity. 
 
 " 'T was your vote that the hunter die by torture? " 
 
 " It was so spoken." 
 
 " Then he shall to spite this squaw of a Wyandot, 
 if for no better reason. Bid your warriors tie the 
 dog up." 
 
 For the moment, in the confusion, the noise and rush- 
 ing back and forth of figures dimly seen in the red light, 
 I lost sense of what was being done. There was a babel 
 of yells, a wild mingling of half-naked forms dancing 
 about through the shadows. Those whose identity I 
 could comprehend had been swallowed up by the rush 
 of bodies. Occasionally Lappin's voice sounded above 
 the din, as he cursed out some order. Then, forth from 
 the surging, excited mass of savages, two braves came 
 directly toward where I lay concealed, staggering under 
 
 [321 ]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 the weight of Hayward's dead body. I drew back my 
 rifle, sinking lower behind the rotten log. The weight 
 of the dead man caused them to shuffle forward, grunt- 
 ing to each other, glad enough to be rid of the burden. 
 In the first dark shadow they let go, flinging him down 
 against the very log behind which I lay, holding my 
 breath in fear. The one turned back, uttering a gut- 
 tural exclamation of relief, but the other paused, grip- 
 ping the soldier's hair. Then he also straightened up, 
 and ran back into the open, giving sudden utterance to 
 a wild yell. I peered across the log to see him dancing 
 in the firelight, waving a bleeding scalp in the air. 
 
 Even as I gazed with eyes of horror, my mind a 
 chaos, every nerve throbbing in physical pain, there 
 came to me the one hope, the one chance for me to meet 
 alone the situation.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 THE GHOST OF THE LIEUTENANT 
 
 r | iHE thought startled, actually frightened me. I had 
 no conception as to where it originated, what 
 strange conjunction of ideas, but it came into mind 
 full born, every detail clear, as if sent direct from God. 
 I felt that I must try it, that it was a command. Im- 
 possible, impractical as it seemed at first a wild, 
 crazy dream yet, as I thought upon it swiftly, realiz- 
 ing the impotency of delay, it assumed new power. Ay ! 
 its very audacity made it possible of success. And what 
 else could I hope to do? To attack that band of red 
 demons alone would be suicide ; would only condemn me 
 to the same fate which Brady faced. It would neither 
 serve the hunter nor the girl ; it would indeed be the last 
 resort of a madman. Nor could I flee, a self-confessed 
 coward, to seek my own safety in the woods, leaving them 
 to their fate. Yet here was a chance to aid them, an op- 
 portunity to overcome numbers through superstitious 
 fear, to smite those savages with terror. It seemed the 
 emanation of a crazed brain but it was not. There 
 was reason back of it, and a knowledge of Indian nature. 
 They would never stop to think, to reason, to consider ; 
 
 [323]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 they would be struck by terror, by the ghosts of their 
 own consciences even the white leader left with 
 no thought but for escape from the awful thing. I knew 
 all this instantly it leaped into my brain with sudden 
 remembrance of my strange resemblance to that dead 
 man, lying almost within reach of my arm. If he only 
 could be made to appear again, stalking forth, from 
 those shadows where he had been thrown into the glare of 
 fire, a ghastly semblance plucked from the grave, it 
 would be a sight to chill the blood, to send those mur- 
 derers shrieking in flight into the black forest. And it 
 could be done, it could be done ! 
 
 I laughed at the simplicity of the scheme, yet it was a 
 grim, quiet laugh, tinged with bitterness. It seemed to 
 come from other lips than mine ; to be a faint echo. If 
 it failed what then? Well, it was only death, and 
 that would be sweeter than living, if I fled, a coward in 
 the night. In Heaven's name I would try the trick; I 
 felt in my heart I had the courage. With eyes on those 
 figures blotting out the fire, their discordant yelling 
 deadening all other sound, their whole attention cen- 
 tered now on savage vengeance, I crept over the log, 
 and crouched low beside the motionless body. Ugh ! but 
 I dreaded to touch it, to feel the awfulness of clammy 
 flesh. As the upturned face, with staring dead eyes, 
 revealed indistinctly by the red glimmer, met my gaze, 
 
 [324]
 
 The Ghost of the Lieutenant 
 
 it was like looking into my own. For an instant it seemed 
 as if I stared down at myself, bent above my own insen- 
 sate body. A shudder ran through me, my hands shak- 
 ing as with palsy. Yet I rallied, crushing back the 
 benumbing horror of that vision, as the hateful voice of 
 Lappin rose above the din: 
 
 "Ay! hold her there! Afraid of the cross? Well, 
 I am not. Here, I '11 show you how to deal with squawg. 
 Now get the dry wood there '11 be some sweet singing 
 presently. Oh, you 'd like to get your hands on me, 
 wouldn't you, Brady? Not this time, my boy. Hurry 
 up, there ! let 's see the Yankee dance ! " 
 
 My hand no longer trembled; the grip of my fingers 
 was like steel. The dead man no longer appalled; he 
 was but a corpse of whom I had use to save the living. 
 Recklessly I stripped the red jacket from the body, 
 ripped in the struggle with Lappin, and showing clearly 
 the rent made by the knife, and crawled back over the 
 log, to put it on. Beyond my cover, not a dozen feet 
 away, was a shallow ravine, and the light streaming 
 through tree branches, fell upon a clay bank, gleaming 
 a yellowish white. I reached it on hands and knees, 
 streaking my face with moist clay, until it must have 
 been ghastly, and plastering even more on my hair in 
 horrible representation of the scalped victim. 
 
 Still unsatisfied, yet knowing of nothing else I could 
 [325]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 add, and warned by the shouts that I must act without 
 delay, I stole forward to the edge of the wood, pausing 
 there a moment to muster my courage, and take one 
 last glance at the scene revealed by the firelight. All 
 the center of the opening seemed alive with Indians 
 crowding forward about the prisoner, who stood bound 
 to a stump, facing me. Other savages were running 
 swiftly back and forth bearing armsful of dried wood, 
 which were cast down at Brady's feet, the mass already 
 rising above his knees. Excitement was evidenced in 
 shouts, and wild cries, in frenzied leaping, dancing, and 
 mad gesticulation. The Shawnee chief stood silent, with 
 folded arms, but burning eyes, while Lappin grasped 
 Mademoiselle's shoulder, holding her to place in the 
 front rank of those red demons, his voice shouting forth 
 orders, or taunting the motionless hunter, who made no 
 reply. Rene was upon her knees, her face hidden, but I 
 could see the white gleam of the crucifix as she held it 
 forth in the glow of light. Brady's face was not toward 
 me, nor revealed clearly by the fire, yet he held his head 
 rect, his eyes roving over the devilish faces. The 
 wounded jaw was bound about with a strip of bloody 
 rag. Without speaking, it yet seemed to me he mocked 
 them. Once he twisted in his bonds, and gazed at her 
 as if he would utter some word, but changed his mind, 
 and, for the first time, a look of pain swept into his face. 
 
 [326]
 
 BRADY HELD HIS HEAD ERECT, HIS EYES ROVING OVER THE DEVILISH FACES. 
 
 Page 326.
 
 The Ghost of the Lieutenant 
 
 Lappin saw the effort, called out some foul insult, and a 
 warrior sprang forward, striking the defenseless man 
 across the lips, and driving his head back against the 
 stump. 
 
 The vicious act drove me mad, and I stepped forth 
 into the open, flinging my gun down in the underbrush. 
 No eye in all that swarm was turned my way. In silence 
 I moved forward until I was within a few yards of the 
 struggling mass. Then I stopped, full in the red glare 
 of fire, my arms uplifted, and gave utterance to a deep, 
 sepulchral groan. God alone knows how awful was the 
 apparition. To them, in startled horror, I was the dead 
 man, standing there with ghastly face, and arms out- 
 stretched, my appearance rendered more terrible by the 
 fitful gleam of fire, revealing features and form, glow- 
 ing on torn red jacket, and head slashed by scalping 
 knife, behind me the night and the black woods. No 
 doubt it was a sight to bring fear to any heart, but to 
 those murderers, their minds poisoned by superstition, 
 it brought panic a terror too terrible to resist. They 
 knew me in the instant ; I was the spirit of the dead ; I 
 had come back for vengeance ; with clammy hands I was 
 clutching for them; with sightless eyes I was seeking 
 them out. There was one yell, breathing forth the 
 terror of their souls ; I saw eyes, wild with horror, star- 
 ing at me; I saw men run and fall, scramble to their 
 
 [327]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 feet, and run again ; I saw leaping bodies fight like fiends 
 in an effort to get free. Sis-e-te-wah, struck by the 
 rush, shrieked like a woman, stared toward me from 
 where he lay on the ground, found his feet and ran. I 
 caught glimpse of Rene's face uplifted, the cross still 
 before her eyes ; of Lappin, hurled over by the rush, 
 trampled into the earth by flying feet, finally regain his 
 knees, his face white as death, as he stared back toward 
 me with protruding eyes. 
 
 Again I groaned, the unearthly sound rising even 
 above the din, seemingly echoed by the great forest and 
 flung back to earth again by the black curtain over- 
 head. Ay ! it was an eery sound ! It even made my own 
 flesh creep. Crazed by the terror of it, panic-stricken 
 by the fears of others, the fur trader leaped to his feet, 
 flung forward his rifle and fired. The ball sang past 
 my ear, and I walked straight toward him, my ghastly 
 face exposed to the fire, my hands reaching out in blind 
 clutching. With one yell, piercing, the yelp of a fright- 
 ened wolf, he turned and dashed for the woods, staring 
 back over his shoulder even as he crashed headlong into 
 the underbrush. For fear they might pause when once 
 under cover the first spasm of terror gone I ran 
 forward to the forest edge, giving utterance to another 
 groan to spur them on. But this was not needed 
 terror, awful terror had struck into their very souls. 
 
 [328]
 
 The Ghost of the Lieutenant 
 
 Not one doubted the evidence of his own eyes ; they had 
 seen the dead walk; their murdered and scalped victim 
 rise again in ghost-like semblance, and they thought of 
 nothing but escape to get beyond the reach of those 
 hands, the gaze of those accusing eyes. They were mad 
 with the ghastly horror. I could hear the fleeing bodies 
 crash blindly into the underbrush, the discordant cries 
 dying in the distance, the occasional thud as some fright- 
 ened savage struck against a tree in the dark, or fell 
 sprawling to the ground. 
 
 It was all over with so quickly I could scarcely realize 
 what had actually occurred. I stood there myself 
 stunned, and witless, gazing into the black woods, as if 
 I had lost my mind. I knew I had won ; that my plan 
 had worked even better than my dream; that we were 
 alone, unguarded, the savages gone. I knew this, and 
 jet my mind, dazed, excited, failed to grasp the signifi- 
 cance of the fact. I stood grasping a tree, listening to 
 the sounds that came fainter and fainter from the forest, 
 gasping for breath. A tear stole down my cheek, and I 
 swept it away, angry at this evidence of weakness. 
 Then I laughed and swore, my nerves dancing like so 
 many demons. They were gone gone ! those merci- 
 less red devils, those accursed murderers, those fiends in 
 human guise. Nor was it likely they would stop in their 
 mad flight until they dropped from sheer exhaustion, or 
 
 [329]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 the dawn of another day brought with it fresh courage. 
 In the dark woods every gloomy tree would be a new 
 apparition, every gleam of star-light through the 
 branches a menacing ghost. The wind in the leaves, the 
 skurrying of wild animals in the thicket, would send 
 them on, shrieking and panic-stricken, pursued by that 
 ghastly thing with whitened face and clammy, out- 
 stretched hands. 
 
 And those others, who were yet there Brady, tied 
 still to the stake, the flames already licking the fagots at 
 his feet, and Mademoiselle praying to the Virgin 
 what would they think? Would they know, understand, 
 what had really occurred? or had the terrible spectacle 
 left them also in benumbed terror? The thought awoke 
 me as from a stupor, and I turned ab(5ut. The opening 
 in the forest was bright as day, for while the first red 
 fire was dying down from lack of fuel, the dry wood 
 encircling the old hunter was leaping into flame. In the 
 glare I saw his face clear-cut as a cameo, and the girl 
 now on her feet, yet with eyes turned on me. Two 
 Indian bodies lay outstretched on the ground between us, 
 killed and trampled under foot by the frenzied warriors 
 in their first terror; everywhere was a litter of dis- 
 carded weapons, flung aside in flight, and many a war- 
 bonnet kicked into shapelessness under the feet of the 
 fleeing. The ground was a jumble of things, as if I 
 
 [330]
 
 The Ghost of the Lieutenant 
 
 looked upon a battle field, yet this was not what I really 
 saw in that first swift glance. A man a white man 
 ran leaping across the flame-lit opening, kicking aside 
 the blazing fagots of wood already scorching Brady, 
 hurling them to right and left in frantic haste, until he 
 made passage through. I caught the glimmer of a knife 
 in his hand; and then, by main strength, he dragged 
 the weakened prisoner clear of the burning wood, and 
 dropped him exhausted on the ground. As the fellow 
 stood erect, staring about him, at the helpless huddle at 
 his feet, at the white face of the girl, at the debris on 
 every side, I recognized Simon Girty. 
 
 " Saints alive ! What does all this mean ? " he cried, 
 grabbing up the gun dropped in his first swift effort at 
 rescue. " You * Running Water ' ; ay ! and this is the 
 Kentuckian who would have killed me. What J s hap- 
 pened here? It looks like a shambles. Never before 
 did I see a man burning himself. Who killed these 
 merciful God ! what is that ? " 
 
 His voice rose into a shriek as he stared at me, while 
 I advanced toward him. With one terrorized leap he 
 sprang back, throwing up his rifle, but with hands shak- 
 ing so, that I laughed outright. The sound coming 
 unexpectedly from such ghastly lips must have been 
 more horrible than a groan, for the frightened man 
 dashed his weapon to the ground, and turned to run. 
 
 [331]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 His foot struck Brady's body and he went down, scram- 
 bling to his knees. I saw the old scout's head uplifted, 
 the trembling girl bury her face in her hands, as if to 
 shut out the sight. 
 
 " Do n't run ; there is nothing to be afraid of ! " I 
 cried hastily, stopping still in my tracks to better reas- 
 sure them. " I am no ghost, but a friend. Hear me, 
 Mademoiselle ! " 
 
 [ 832 ]
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 THROUGH THE BLACK NIGHT 
 
 HE dropped her hands from before her eyes, and, 
 holding out the white cross gleaming in the fire- 
 light, came slowly forward. There was doubt and 
 terror in the fair, uplifted face, but likewise a glow of 
 hope and confidence. I waited silent as she came, noting 
 every swift change of expression. A yard from me she 
 stopped, hesitating, not even yet thoroughly convinced 
 of my identity. 
 
 " Is is it really you, Joseph Hay ward ? " her lips 
 faltered. " Tell me, I beg you, for for I was never so 
 frightened in my life." 
 
 " There is nothing for you to fear, Mademoiselle," I 
 aid quickly, regretful enough to have startled her so. 
 " I am Joseph Hayward, the American. 'T was but to 
 save you I played this part." 
 
 She buried her face in her hands, sobbing hysterically, 
 her slender form trembling. 
 
 " Oh, I am glad glad ! " she managed to whisper. 
 *' I I am not superstitious, not weak ; but this was so 
 real, so dreadful, that all thought left me. Oh, how 
 could you, how could you do that ? " 
 
 [333]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " It was all that was left for me to do," I explained, 
 my heart throbbing, as I drew her hands from before her 
 face, and looked into her eyes. " You must not blame 
 me, Mademoiselle. I could not fight alone against them 
 all. I was crazed with despair when I first thought of 
 this. It was as though God inspired me to the attempt. 
 Mad as it was, I had to try it; something seemed to 
 impel me. But I thought you would know, would 
 understand " 
 
 " I did not ; it never once occurred to me the 
 wonderful resemblance. Oh! you cannot comprehend 
 how terrible you appeared when I first saw you, Mon- 
 sieur there, with the horrid red glare on your face ; 
 you had the look of death, of a corpse walking. I I 
 will never blot it out of memory ; it will haunt me while 
 I live. I tremble still like a leaf, even though I feel your 
 hands upon me." 
 
 My eyes looking beyond her saw Girty on his knees, 
 reaching for his rifle in the dirt. Then he arose to his 
 feet, his face showing hard and ugly in the firelight. 
 
 " What 's all this mad play about ! " he ej aculated 
 roughly. " Come now, speak up thar, or I '11 try what 
 lead kin do. Are ye ghost, er man ? Burn me if I 'm 
 afraid o* either ! '* 
 
 " Your courage has been tested," I returned in humor. 
 " But you might as well lower the gun, Girty. There is 
 
 [334]
 
 Through the Black Night 
 
 no occasion to shoot at me." I stepped out into fuller 
 view. " Do you know me now ? " 
 
 He stared, uncertain, into my clay-streaked face, his 
 eyes narrowed into mere slits. 
 
 " Maybe I do, an' maybe I do n't," he admitted at last 
 obstinately. " Yer 're like the lad who guided me into 
 Harmar, but yer a sight for all that. If yez had yer 
 face washed, an' more hair showin' I could judge better. 
 What's all this play-actin' about anyhow? though 
 't was n't much play in it for him, I reckon," pointing 
 to Brady, " when I got here. A minute more, an' the 
 man would have been sheeted in flame." 
 
 I glanced at the old hunter, now raised upon his 
 elbow. He seemed to be endeavoring to speak, but the 
 wounded jaw, tightly bound by a cloth, prevented. The 
 rough treatment he had received was plainly in evidence, 
 his face bruised and blackened from blows, a great welt 
 across one cheek from which blood oozed, his right ear 
 slit, his leather jerkin slashed almost into ribbons, the 
 moccasins charred on his feet, his small clothes smoul- 
 dering yet, where Girty had beaten out the flames with 
 his bare hands. Yet bad as he looked, the old, indom- 
 itable spirit shone in the blue, steadfast eyes. With an 
 effort he sat up, supporting himself painfully with 
 hands blackened by fire, yet before I could speak, Made- 
 moiselle came between us and knelt beside him, her gentle 
 
 [335]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 fingers smoothing his gray hair, her voice speaking 
 words I could not catch. Indeed, Girty, in his impa- 
 tience, gave no opportunity. 
 
 " Well, yer ghost," he blustered. " Give me the 
 straight of this." 
 
 I stepped toward him, amused to see the man shrink 
 back, half startled still at my weird decoration, and 
 dropped a hand heavily on his shoulder. 
 
 " Does that feel like the grip of a phantom, you 
 fool ? " I asked sharply. " If it does I '11 shut down 
 tighter still for your benefit. My tale can wait its telling 
 until we be well out of here. There will be time enough 
 then to satisfy your curiosity. Those fellows may get 
 over their fright and come back." 
 
 "What fellows?" 
 
 " A mixed band of Miamis, Ojibwas, and Shawnees 
 mostly Shawnees with a chief named Sis-e-te-wah ! " 
 
 " Huh! so it was those devils? The same gang I left 
 at the foot of the island. But there were no Shawnees 
 with them then. Sis-e-te-wah, did you say? I know 
 the rascal, but never before did I hear of him being bold 
 enough for such a deed. What stirred him to it? " 
 
 " There was a white man with them." 
 
 " Ah ! now we have the truth a red-coat ? " and his 
 eyes were on my jacket. 
 
 " He wore one stolen no doubt but was no sol- 
 [3S6]
 
 Through the Black Night 
 
 dier. Mademoiselle knew the man, a ruffian called Jules 
 Lappin." 
 
 He gazed into my face a minute and laughed, slapping 
 his knee in sudden merriment. 
 
 " Lord ! but that 's a good one, boy ! By all the gods 
 I must tell it to Hamilton. He '11 split his sides. And 
 yer actually played ghost for Jules Lappin, and sent 
 that hell hound running! By my faith, I hope he never 
 comes back. Do I know him ? It was my knife that put 
 the red slash in his cheek. There is no deviltry but he 
 might be up to. An', Lord, love me, yer played ghost 
 fer him!" 
 
 He laughed again, the odd sound echoing through 
 the night, and causing Mademoiselle to turn and look 
 at us. 
 
 " Is he one to get over his scare, and come back ? " I 
 asked, scanning the forest apprehensively. Girty's face 
 sobered, the loud laugh dying into a cackle. 
 
 " I judge 't is like enough ; the dog is no coward, but 
 he '11 have a job gatherin' up the red-skins. By the 
 Lord Harry! 'twas a fine joke. But maybe we better 
 move, friend, for he would not be in good humor if he 
 did come, and I am scarcely in better grace with him 
 than you." 
 
 "Go where?" 
 
 "To join my party. Did yer think it likely I was 
 [337]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 here alone? I '11 tell yer the whole of it in a word. I 
 found the warriors of the Wyandots marching south, an' 
 joined them. Have you heard it was war? Ay! there's 
 no stopping now; the tribes have taken the trail, the 
 tomahawks are bloody. 'T is said St. Clair has left 
 Harmar already, and there will be fighting on the 
 [Wabash. Pish ! it is easy to guess how it will end." 
 
 " St. Clair is a good soldier," I contended stoutly. 
 
 " I grant that, but 't is not a soldier that is needed 
 now. Pipe clay and drill are not for the wilderness. So 
 is Harmar for the matter of that did n't I see him 
 lickin' his raw recruits into line but one Kentucky 
 backwoodsman like our scorched friend here would 
 be worth the two of 'em in a fight with savages. He 'd 
 meet them on their own ground. I tell ye, lad, the red- 
 skins will send yer St. Clair back as they did Braddock 
 if he lives to go. But why discuss that now? Saint 
 Anne ! we 've got enough to think about to save our own 
 scalps. What was I saying? Oh, yes the Wyandots 
 were on the trail south, and I left them, taking a dozen 
 braves along with me, that I might learn what had hap- 
 pened on the island. * Running Water ' had disap- 
 peared ; I thought at the time maybe she did n't care to 
 travel with me any longer, or else desired to get away 
 from those Indian outlaws we were camping with. Most 
 of them were drunk, and no pleasant company. So it 
 
 [338]
 
 Through the Black Night 
 
 was my notion she left by herself to join her own people. 
 But when I reached the Wyandots she was not there, 
 nor had anyone heard from her. Then your party 
 failed to show up, and, putting the two together, I got it 
 in my head that something must be going on down here. 
 I came across to see." 
 
 " Where are your Indians? " 
 
 " At the foot of the lake. I scouted up the shore as 
 far as the ford ; saw the blaze of fire over here and crept 
 up through the woods to investigate. Then somebody 
 fired a gun, and I ran forward. This is what I found." 
 He waved his hand about the open space. " Now you 
 understand. I reckon the best thing for us to do is to 
 get out." 
 
 I looked down at Brady doubtfully ; then stepped over 
 beside him. 
 
 " How is he, Mademoiselle ? " I asked, " can he talk 
 at all?" 
 
 " If you bend close to his lips you can hear his words," 
 she answered glancing up at my face. The hunter's eyes 
 were bright; he seemed to be trying to speak, and I 
 dropped on my knees beside her. 
 
 "What is it, Brady?" 
 
 There was a faint muttering, but I distinguished the 
 words. 
 
 " Was was that Simon Girty ? " 
 [339]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " The the man who, who cut me down ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Whar whar is he now? " 
 
 " Right here ; you want to speak to him oh, 
 Girty? " 
 
 The renegade came toward us, and the eyes of the two 
 borderers met. For a long moment they looked at each 
 other, many a memory, no doubt, floating between. Then 
 Brady held out a blackened hand. 
 
 " Yer saved my life, Simon Girty," he said with an 
 effort. " I I never thought to shake hands with 
 you but but I 'm a goin' to." 
 
 Girty's ugly face broke into a smile. 
 
 " No more did I," he admitted grimly. " We ain't 
 ginerally been in no shakin' hands mood when we 've met 
 heretofore. Still, I reckon, we 're about even up an' kin 
 afford ter shake if we wanter. Think yer kin travel a 
 bit, Brady?" 
 
 "How far?" 
 
 " To the foot of the lake ; to a Wyandot camp." 
 
 The hunter's eyes wandered from his face to mine. 
 
 "I I reckon I can," he mumbled at last. "I 
 ain't hurt so much, only bruised up." His glance 
 fell upon his feet. " Maybe if I had some whole moc- 
 casins I 'd get along better." 
 
 [340]
 
 Through the Black Night 
 
 "We'll fix that," and Girty laughed. "I reckon 
 that 's what them dead Injuns is lying there for." 
 
 He stepped across to the nearest body, fumbled a 
 moment, and came back, dropping on his knees. Deftly 
 aad quickly he cut the burned leather from the wounded 
 man's feet, touching the blackened flesh gingerly with 
 his fingers, and slipped on the new moccasins. 
 
 " You 're not scorched much, friend. Hurts some, I 
 reckon, but a couple o' days will put you all right agin." 
 He saw me, and grinned. " Go wash that face of yours, 
 lad. Lord ! but I want to laugh every time I look at it, 
 an' the girl here has n't got over bein' scared at you yet. 
 Go on now; we'll get Brady started, and if you ever 
 come into camp lookin' like that, my Wyandots would 
 run all night." 
 
 I left them willingly enough, and found water in the 
 ravine between the clay banks with which to scrub my- 
 self, lying down at full length, and managing thus to 
 remove most of the decorations. I dried myself on the 
 red jacket, and then flung it aside into the thicket, re- 
 suming my own, and picking up the discarded rifle. The 
 application of water made me feel like a new man, al- 
 though I realized now how tired I was in brain and body. 
 The scattered embers of fire were by this time only a dull 
 red, emitting little flashes of light, and the opening in the 
 forest was but dimly revealed, the figures in the center 
 [341]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 almost undiscernible. I found the hunter on his feet, 
 however, leaning heavily on Girty's shoulder, but in- 
 sisting he could walk alone. Mademoiselle bore two 
 guns, and was first to greet me. 
 
 " I cannot see how you look," she said, the tremor 
 gone from her voice, and striving to speak gaily. " But 
 I am sure it is an improvement, Monsieur." 
 
 " I trust you may think so still by daylight," I an- 
 swered. " At least I have done my best to cease being a 
 ghost. I mean you shall discover I am very much alive." 
 
 " I have small reason to doubt that. You must help 
 him." 
 
 " Yes, I know ; but you, Mademoiselle ; did you escape 
 unin j ured ? " 
 
 "But for some small bruises, and a terrible fright; 
 only I I wish so much to get away from here, Mon- 
 sieur." 
 
 " Is that you, Hayward ? " broke in Girty's harsh 
 voice. " Take hold here with me, until this man gets 
 the use of his legs. You know the way, girl ; down the 
 line of the shore. Keep a bit ahead of us, but do n't 
 move too fast ; 't will be dark in the woods." 
 
 Brady groaned with pain, but was not without 
 strength. When we reached the forest the trail was so 
 narrow, that Girty fell behind, leaving me alone to guide 
 him. We advanced slowly, having to almost feel our
 
 Through the Black Night 
 
 way through the dense gloom, until we emerged on the 
 shore of the lake. Here the dim light of the stars 
 shimmering on the water yielded a faint guidance, but 
 Brady hobbled along so painfully I had no heart to 
 urge him faster. Ahead, a dim shadow, was 
 Mademoiselle. My mind was filled with thought of her, 
 but Girty began asking questions, and I told him 
 briefly all that had occurred since we left Harmar. It 
 was so we came, at last, into the Wyandot camp. 
 
 [343]
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 A PRISONER TO THE ALLIES 
 
 A S I pen these adventures of youth I seem to retain 
 but dim recollection of what occurred following 
 our arrival at the camp at the foot of the lake. I recall 
 the struggle we had with Brady, which taxed Girty's 
 strength as well as my own. The man suffered greatly, 
 and for much of the distance we bore him in our arms in 
 spite of his protests. Yet we reached the spot at last, 
 and stumbled into the circle of light cast by a small fire, 
 the Indians aroused from sleep by Girty's shout, and 
 clustering about us in eager curiosity. At first view I 
 deemed them hostile, but a word from the girl made them 
 friendly enough. 
 
 Indeed she assumed command at once, ignoring Girty 
 utterly, and keeping the Wyandots busy with an effort 
 to give Brady relief from pain. Boughs were spread for 
 him before the fire, the wounded man placed upon these, 
 and his wounds carefully washed. I saw the old hunter's 
 eyes following her movements as she flitted about in the 
 firelight, or bent above him in gentle ministration. If 
 she was weary she gave no sign, her whole thought con- 
 centrated on her work of mercy. She never looked at 
 
 [345]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 or spoke to me, and I felt my heart sink as I watched 
 her, the dancing red light on her face, grave and earnest. 
 With the help of one of the warriors an older man of 
 stern look she made some native poultice, which was 
 bound to the burned feet as well as the wounded jaw. 
 This must have brought relief, for Brady finally closed 
 his eyes, and fell asleep with her brown hand stroking 
 his forehead. Yet she remained in her position, motion- 
 less, her eyes upon his face. I moved uneasily, and 
 changed my position, but she did not look up. From 
 where I lay I could see the clear outline of her face 
 silhouetted against the fire. I yearned to go to her, 
 yet somehow I dared not. At last I lay my head down 
 on my arm, still watching her, and, before I knew it, was 
 asleep. 
 
 It was gray dawn when Girty called me, a bright, 
 fair dawn, and everything was ready for the march. I 
 ate the food an Indian brought me, but looked about in 
 vain for Mademoiselle. The hunter was sitting up, 
 propped against the base of a tree, and his eyes smiled 
 a welcome when I called to him. He had slept well, he 
 said, and was better. Then Girty ordered the breaking 
 of camp, and she stood beside me, as I gained my 
 feet. I know not where she came from, but she looked 
 as fresh as the morning, her dark eyes meeting mine in 
 all frankness. 
 
 [346]
 
 A Prisoner to the Allies 
 
 " You are a good sleeper, Monsieur," she said lightly. 
 
 " And you must be a witch to get along with none, and 
 yet appear so rested." 
 
 " Oh, but I slept ; did you think not? " 
 
 " I only know you were awake when I succumbed. 
 Your face was the last thing I saw, but I could keep my 
 eyes open no longer." 
 
 She laughed. 
 
 " Perhaps had you waited a moment longer I might 
 have said good night," archly. " But when I turned 
 you were sleeping soundly. I remained with Monsieur 
 Brady until I knew he was relieved of pain. He looks 
 quite himself this morning." 
 
 She left me with a nod of good fellowship, and knelt 
 down to speak with him, just as Girty came up with two 
 of his Wyandots. Nor did we converse alone again that 
 day. When the night came I had the feeling she 
 avoided me. 
 
 They made a litter for the hunter from two poles, 
 with a blanket strung between, the Indians taking turn 
 as bearers. Mademoiselle went ahead with some of her 
 own people, while Girty and I brought up the rear. We 
 talked but little, although I caught a wide grin on the 
 fellow's face every time he looked at me and recalled the 
 memory of my ghost play. Once he chuckled in merri- 
 ment, swearing again he would tell the tale to the Eng- 
 [347]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 lish commandant, but I saw no fun in it, and told him 
 so in a way that kept his tongue silent. I was in no good 
 humor at best, and, in spite of his service to us, no 
 friend to the black renegade. Faith, I knew his foul 
 story too well, and thought only of how soon we might 
 be rid of his company. 'T was with this in mind that I 
 ventured on questioning the fellow as to his purpose, 
 and where he proposed taking us. His answers were not 
 to my liking, although he was soft-spoken enough. 
 
 " Where could I take you, friend, but to the Wyan- 
 dots? It was to them you were sent." 
 
 " Ay ! but the mission has failed, and there is already 
 war." 
 
 " The more reason you should go. These woods are 
 full of savages to whom you would be easy prey. What 
 could you do with the wounded man alone ? 'T is a long 
 trail from here to the Ohio, and a hard one." 
 
 "And the Wyandots?" 
 
 " Will hold you prisoner, no doubt. 'T is not like 
 they will free you to fight against them. Yet that is 
 better fate than death and torture. 'T is my belief that 
 Hamilton is with the tribes. If so, he may hold you to 
 ransom." 
 
 I said no more, watching Mademoiselle's slender form 
 ahead, and buried in my own thoughts. Yet before 
 sundown we had proof that the man was right, for we 
 
 [348]
 
 A Prisoner to the Allies 
 
 suddenly came up with a considerable band, armed and 
 painted for war Miamis, and Pottawattomies, Girty 
 said the warriors crushing about us with sullen faces 
 and fierce yellings. Some among them recognized 
 Brady, and one brute struck him with a gun stock, be- 
 fore the chiefs came and drove them back. That night 
 we were under Indian guard and the next day marched 
 with grim, silent warriors on either side of us. Made- 
 moiselle remained by Brady much of the time, seeing to 
 the bandaging of his wounds, but I trudged on despond- 
 ent and alone, for Girty had disappeared. 
 
 It was the fourth day, on the banks of the Maumee, 
 that we came straggling into the Indian encampment, 
 and passed through howling hordes, who struck at us 
 in spite of the guards. The word passed that one of 
 the white prisoners was Stephen Brady caused them to 
 press about us so close that we were fairly hemmed 
 into the mass, infuriated faces on every side, the wild 
 shrieking making an indescribable din. The situation 
 was becoming serious, for the guards cared little what 
 befell us, when Girty, accompanied by three Wyandot 
 chiefs and a white man in British uniform, fought pas- 
 sage through the crowd, and, by threats and blows, won 
 way for us through the village. The extent of this sur- 
 prised me, and gave me a new conception of the power of 
 those northwest Indian tribes. There were hundreds, 
 
 [349]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 perhaps thousands, gathered there, for we only traversed 
 one end of the encampment, the warriors of tribes whose 
 homes were as far away as the Great Lakes and the 
 Big River. Nor were all yet gathered at the rendezvous. 
 Our ears, as we pressed on, heard a jargon of strange 
 tongues, and our eyes saw a variety of Indian dress, 
 such as few have looked upon ; everywhere the war bon- 
 nets waved resplendent, and hideous faces, streaked with 
 war paint, glared at us in hostile menace. It was a des- 
 perate passage, yet those who protected us from vio- 
 lence pressed steadily on, thrusting aside obstructing 
 forms in grim determination. Twice they came to blows, 
 and once the Englishman threatened to use his rifle, 
 but, at last, we reached the camp of the Wyandots, and 
 left the howling mass behind. There were savages in 
 plenty here, but the sight of Mademoiselle beside us 
 still, and the presence of their own chiefs, held them 
 to peace. They crowded about, pointing at us, even 
 touching us with curious hands, questioning eagerly, 
 but with no threat of violence. 
 
 One chief called to them, and many responded, driv- 
 ing back those of other tribes who still yelled threaten- 
 ingly in our rear. There were shouts, blows, the sound 
 of struggle, but we were not halted. There were few 
 wigwams erected, not more than two or three standing 
 in the shadow of trees close beside the river. Big as 
 
 [350]
 
 A Prisoner to the Allies 
 
 the encampment was, it was no permanent village, but a 
 mere rendezvous for the various tribes allied for war. 
 To one of these, covered with deerskin and rendered 
 hideous by tribal totems, we were taken, and thrust 
 within. At last we were alone, Brady and I, although 
 we could still hear the yelling without. He lay extended 
 on his litter, and I dropped to the ground, thoroughly 
 exhausted from the rough buffetting through which I 
 had passed. We were safe for the time being; I knew 
 that, but what the future had in store could not be 
 guessed at. It would depend upon the decision of the 
 Wyandots, and the authority exercised over the wild 
 hordes by the few white men present. That some of 
 these wore the uniform of the British service signified 
 little, for they would be there without the open con- 
 nivance of their government more adventurers than 
 soldiers. What real influence they wielded I had no 
 means of knowing, nor could I deem them of high char- 
 acter or merciful hearts. 
 
 Brady sat up, and then, with some effort, and no 
 special exhibit of pain, succeeded in standing erect. 
 I joined him, and our hands met in firm grip; his eyes 
 were cool, the expression of his strong face composed. 
 
 " You are better, Brady? " 
 
 " The pain is less," he said with difficulty. " The 
 girl is a witch doctor. Ay ! the touch of her hands 
 
 [351]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 cures. Yet I thought it best not to appear 
 strong. Faith ! 't is a big Indian camp Hayward. 
 Did you mark the different tribes, boy? The whole 
 northwest is here and with white leaders." 
 
 " They will give St. Clair a fight." 
 
 " My God ! they will an' he '11 come up to it 
 like a blind fool. He '11 march into an ambuscade 
 mark my words unless he 's warned. Oh how I wish 
 J had my old feet back." 
 
 " For what, Brady? You would run for it? Would 
 seek escape ? " 
 
 " Ay, I would," earnestly. " 'T is worth more than 
 my life to tell him what is coming. But, faith, 't is all 
 I can do to hobble. Lad, you must go." 
 
 " I? How? There is no way." 
 
 " We '11 find one ; the girl hush ! someone is com- 
 ing now ! " 
 
 There were three of them Wyandot chiefs and 
 a white man. I stepped back as they filed in through the 
 narrow opening, the Indians grave and stolid of mien, 
 wrapped in blankets, not even glancing toward us as they 
 passed; the white man, who came last, dark-skinned, 
 erect, his eyes a sharp, scintillating blue, his moustache 
 gray and luxuriant. He wore a green hunting shirt 
 that hung in fringe to the knees, a pistol and knife at 
 his belt, and on his head a hat of broad brim that left 
 
 [352]
 
 A Prisoner to the Allies 
 
 his face in shadow. I saw Brady stare at him, giving 
 utterance to a sudden, half suppressed exclamation, 
 but I remained motionless and observant, while the three 
 chiefs solemnly seated themselves on the ground, and 
 the fellow in the green shirt wheeled about, as if on 
 parade, and scanned us for a long moment in silence. 
 
 "Which is Stephen Brady?" he questioned at last 
 in high-strung voice. 
 
 The scout sought to answer, but the words were but a 
 mumble. I stepped forward into the stronger light. 
 
 " This man is Brady," I said shortly. " He has been 
 shot in the jaw, and cannot speak." 
 
 The eyes of the four were on me in startled amaze- 
 ment. The white even took a quick step forward to 
 better peer into my face. 
 
 " And who are you ? " 
 
 " Ensign Hayward, of the garrison of Fort Harmar." 
 
 An oath leaped from his lips, his sharp eyes snapping. 
 
 " Rot, man ! What mummery is this ? Do you dare 
 think I do not know you? " 
 
 " I am very sure you do not," I answered coldly, little 
 liking his manner. " Never before have I seen you. 
 Yet I know whom you mistake me for a British Lieu- 
 tenant of my name." 
 
 " And you are not he? you insist on that? You have 
 his name, his look, and still claim to be another? I can 
 
 [353]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 scarce believe that. What know you then of Lieutenant 
 Hayward? " 
 
 " That his body lies yonder, beyond a lake in the 
 woods." 
 
 "Killed! by whom?" 
 
 " By a white renegade Jules Lappin. I saw him 
 die, and if you care to listen will tell the story." 
 
 He stood in silence, gazing at me, unbelief plainly 
 depicted on his face, one hand clasping a pistol butt. 
 Then he nodded his head. 
 
 " Go on ! " he said harshly. 
 
 I told the tale briefly enough, from the time when 
 Girty first appeared to me in the woods, until we en- 
 tered the Indian encampment. The dark, expression- 
 less eyes of the chiefs were upon me, and I spoke slowly, 
 not knowing whether they understood or not. I saw 
 bewilderment and interest in the face of the white man 
 as I proceeded, his hand leaving the pistol to tug at his 
 moustache. Once or twice he interrupted me with a 
 question, but the sharp tone of his voice was modified. 
 When I related my career as a ghost, something not 
 unlike a smile curved his thin lips, and softened the 
 steel glitter of his eyes. 
 
 "And you expect me to believe that? " 
 
 " I do." 
 
 " And why pray? " 
 
 [354]
 
 A Prisoner to the Allies 
 
 " Because I am an officer, and a gentleman," I an- 
 swered stiffly. He laughed, unpleasantly. 
 
 " Permit me to say a rather unusual combination so 
 far as I am acquainted with the service you claim to rep- 
 resent. However, I will question Girty. Who is this 
 Mademoiselle D'Auvray ? " 
 
 " You may know her as * Running Water'." 
 
 " Oh, the Wyandot missionary. Ay ! I remember 
 now old D'Auvray was her father. We clashed often 
 enough to recall each other a quarrelsome French- 
 man, and, from all I hear, the girl possesses the same 
 spirit." He stopped speaking, with a glance at the 
 silent chiefs. 
 
 " You would question the man ? " 
 
 There was no response, save that of the central figure 
 who shook his head gravely. 
 
 " Then I hold the two of you prisoners. After the 
 campaign you may be taken to Detroit. At present 
 you must go with the tribes, as there are no men to 
 spare to guard you north. Do you know, sir, who 
 I am?" 
 
 " I do not." 
 
 " Well, your companion does ; that is why I hold you 
 in close confinement to keep your mouths shut. We 
 will go, Wyandots." 
 
 They filed out slowly in the same order they had 
 [355]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 entered. At the entrance the man in the green shirt 
 paused, and glanced back. 
 
 " You understand that the slightest attempt at escape 
 will mean death," he said sternly. " The savages are 
 hard to control." 
 
 Neither of us answered, and, after waiting a moment, 
 he dropped the flap of skin and disappeared. I turned 
 toward Brady. 
 
 " He said you knew him ; who is he ? " 
 
 There was a stern glow in the old scout's eyes. 
 
 " Hamilton, the British commander at Detroit the 
 biggest devil on this frontier. 'T is a bold thing his 
 being here in person. There is big game on foot." 
 
 [856]
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 RENE* COMES 
 
 rriHE afternoon passed slowly. We discussed the 
 chances of escape, yet knew so little of our sur- 
 roundings as to gain slight satisfaction. If we could 
 be certain that there were no Indians on the opposite 
 bank of the river we might venture an attempt. But 
 we were far from sure. Desperate as we were, desirous 
 above all things to get our scanty information to St. 
 Clair, we could not court certain death. Even Brady 
 advised postponing the effort until we learned more of 
 the situation. It was his belief that the Indians would 
 remain where they were for several days, waiting the 
 arrival of other tribes from a distance. Scouting par- 
 ties might be sent out, but the main body would stay in 
 camp, preparing and awaiting new recruits. Hamilton, 
 he was sure, would never dare lead the redskins into 
 battle, and his presence in the village was proof that 
 the real campaign had not commenced. It was merely 
 planned and engineered. 
 
 He fell asleep at last, but I kept wide awake, listen- 
 ing to the various noises without, and watching the 
 lengthening shadows indicate the passage of the sun. I 
 
 [357]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 could see the silhouette of an Indian guard, standing 
 like a statue, and once ventured to peer out through the 
 slit in the skins, but only stared into a savage face, and 
 dodged back, barely escaping the vicious sweep of a 
 tomahawk. At another time loud yelling led me to be- 
 lieve new arrivals had come trooping in, and just before 
 dark an English voice spoke sharply to the guard with- 
 out, and I realized there were others besides the one I 
 had seen, stationed about the lodge. We had been fed 
 soon after our arrival in camp, and nothing more in 
 the nature of food was forthcoming. Night settled 
 down but with no diminution of noise without. Fires 
 were kindled both in front and behind the wigwam in 
 which we were confined, and the red glare found en- 
 trance through slits in the skins, making the interior 
 visible. Some robes and a blanket or two were thrust 
 through the opening by a red arm. I spread one of 
 the latter over Brady without disturbing him, and sat 
 down on the rest, occupied with gloomy thoughts. 
 
 Thus far all had been failure, our mission useless, 
 our sufferings vain ; Schultz had given up his life, 
 Brady was wounded and suffering, and I, as well as he, 
 a helpless prisoner. Yet even this could be borne with 
 patience if only I could perceive some way to become of 
 service, some means by which I could warn St. Clair of 
 this tornado of savagery about to sweep down upon 
 
 [358]
 
 licnc Comes 
 
 him. I wrestled with the problem, searching vainly for 
 some avenue of escape, some unguarded opening by 
 which I might hope to penetrate through the watchful 
 red lines. God knows I had no fear for myself, no 
 shrinking from danger. I would have risked the rifles 
 in a moment could I only discover a chance to carry a 
 warning of treachery. My whole thought was with my 
 comrades, marching the forest trails, unaware of the 
 hordes of warriors who watched their every movement 
 with furtive savagery tramping sturdily forward to 
 ambuscade and death. The dread picture left me sick 
 and trembling, the awful helplessness taking the very 
 heart out of me. 
 
 Slowly, insensibly, the vision of Mademoiselle came. 
 What a life had been hers from childhood, and yet 
 how the true, sweet worilanhood had conquered all sav- 
 age environment. It was to me a miracle. Indian she 
 claimed herself, and yet it was her French forebears 
 who had marked her face and character. The very 
 glory of the French court found fresh portrayal in 
 this homeless girl of the wilderness in the proud set- 
 ting of her head, in the merry laugh of her eyes, the 
 naive daring of her actions. She was like no other I 
 had ever known she was just herself. And yet the 
 sweet, wholesome charm of her ! It was not to be told 
 in words, nor pictured in thought ; there was about her 
 
 [359]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 the breath of the wild, made more fragrant by the subtle 
 perfume of civilization. She could do strange things, 
 cast convention aside, and still remain womanly, sweet 
 and strong. What a bright, happy sprite she was, yet 
 what tongue would be reckless enough to attempt insult ? 
 I pitied the man who did, who presumed on her drop of 
 Indian blood, or the happiness of her disposition. For 
 those dark eyes could flash, ay ! and if need be, the strong 
 brown hand could strike. Someway this girl had learned 
 life, had found its shadow and its sunshine, and glori- 
 fied it with a deep, abiding faith which set her apart 
 and stamped her different. She was Rene D'Auvray 
 lovable, brave, faithful, her very presence a benediction, 
 her smile a blessing worth sacrifice to win. I wondered 
 where she was in that ribald camp. Had she also been 
 held prisoner which was not likely or been sent 
 back to the North far more probable as a squaw 
 out of place amid this concourse of warriors preparing 
 for battle. Surely some restraint kept her from com- 
 ing, some authority other than the command of Wyan- 
 dot chiefs. These held her in awe, almost in reverence 
 she could have won her way with them, and, some- 
 how, I had no doubt what that way would be. My heart- 
 beats quickened with the faith that was in me. 
 
 She was in my mind still, a soft, tender memory, when 
 the skin concealing the entrance was lifted and she 
 
 [360]
 
 Rene Comes 
 
 stood in the narrow opening looking in. I could see 
 her slender, lightly poised form outlined against the 
 fire, but seemingly her eyes could not penetrate the 
 darkness within. An instant she hesitated, leaning 
 slightly forward. 
 
 " Monsieur." 
 
 '* Yes," I said eagerly, already on my feet. " I was 
 longing for you to come." 
 
 She came forward cautiously, guided by the sound 
 of my voice, leaving the entrance open, permitting me to 
 glimpse the guard without, facing the opening. 
 
 " And I thought I might never have the privilege, 
 Monsieur," she said softly. " Hamilton refused to 
 listen to my request, even to see me. I had to wait until 
 he left the camp, and make appeal to my own people." 
 
 " He has departed then? " 
 
 " Not for long ; merely to hasten forward laggard 
 tribes. He is a hard man, Monsieur, ambitious and 
 cruel. It is he, not the Indians, you must fear." 
 
 " But he is of white blood ; of a nation at peace with 
 us. It seems strange, his enmity." 
 
 " Yet that is the very cause. He is here in secret, 
 performing an act of treachery. I know not what his 
 government bids him to do, but it is his influence which 
 has precipitated war. He and his emissaries have 
 preached it from tribe to tribe. Yet he dare not have it 
 
 [361]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 known. That is where danger threatens you, Monsieur 
 you recognize him, you have seen him here in this 
 hostile camp ; you are an officer of the Americain army, 
 your word of testimony would bear weight." 
 
 " You mean," I asked, horrified at the thought, " that 
 his promise of protection is a false one? " 
 
 " I do not know," hesitating. " I only know the man, 
 and dare not trust him. He is ambitious, unscrupulous, 
 and possesses power. 'T will be as he decides. A life 
 will weigh nothing if it interferes with his plans." Her 
 hands clasped mine suddenly, her eyes upturned to my 
 face. " I could not be untrue to my people," she whis- 
 pered swiftly, " but they have been made this English- 
 man's victims. Him I despise, abominate ; he has led my 
 people astray; there will be weeping and sorrow in the 
 villages of the Wyandots." 
 
 A quick hope came to me, and I held tightly to the 
 hand in my clasp. 
 
 "You have come to help us, Mademoiselle? " I whis- 
 pered, bending so close her hair brushed my lips. " You 
 feel that our need is that desperate ? " 
 
 " I must do right," she answered, yet without lifting 
 her eyes to mine, " as God tells me. I pray to him for 
 guidance. You are white men and Christians; you 
 came to the Wyandots on a mission of peace. What is 
 my duty, Monsieur? I also am Christian, and only a 
 
 [362]
 
 Rene Comes 
 
 drop of Indian blood flows in my veins. Yet all my life 
 have I been Indian. How can I turn against my own 
 people ? " 
 
 " I cannot think that you do," I urged as she paused, 
 breathing heavily. " The Wyandots have been falsely 
 led, deceived. They have been driven into this war by 
 the lies of white men. Would we be in danger now if our 
 fate was left to a council of Wyandot chiefs ? " 
 
 " No ; they would listen to me, and believe. It is 
 Hamilton and his white aides who refuse to hear the 
 story. I went to his tepee twice, and was turned away ( 
 the last time with insults, as though I were an 
 unknown squaw." 
 
 " How, then, did you gain permission to come here? " 
 
 " I waited until he left the camp. There are but 
 two white men here tonight, and one of them is Girty. 
 I like not the man, but he seems friendly to you, and so 
 I trust him. He suggested that I come, and told me 
 something which gave me courage. He had heard a 
 word dropped by Hamilton which made him suspect 
 your lives were at stake. He dare not act openly, but 
 he sent me to tell you this, and to whisper to you his 
 plan. It was easy for me to come here with Hamilton 
 away. The guards are Wyandots, and I had only to ask 
 the chief to let me dress again Monsieur Brady's wounds. 
 He had not been warned against me, and suspected 
 
 [363]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 nothing. The Englishman who was left in command 
 was led by Girty to the other end of the village. When 
 the chief sought him, he was not to be found, and so I 
 was given permission." 
 
 She stepped silently back to the entrance, and glanced 
 out into the firelight, returning as swiftly to clasp my 
 sleeve. 
 
 " Listen, Monsieur ; I must speak fast, for I know 
 not who may suspicion us. Is he better? " 
 
 " Yes, except for the wound in his face ; his feet will 
 bear him, although he would suffer pain." 
 
 " He could travel but slowly, and it is a long forest 
 road, nor could you conceal your trail. Ay! Girty's 
 plan is the better by means of the river. Now mark 
 every word, for 't is a desperate chance. Two hours 
 from now be ready. We must work tonight, while 
 Hamilton is away. I will somehow draw the guard away 
 from this side here, next to river, Monsieur. When 
 you hear an owl hoot three times creep beneath the skins 
 and down the bank to the water's edge. You must move 
 like foxes, for there will be sleeping warriors to pass. 
 Go down stream." 
 
 " And then ? " I asked breathlessly, as she stopped to 
 glance behind. 
 
 " A quarter of a mile below, at the end of the village, 
 around a sharp bend, Girty will have a canoe tied to a 
 
 [364]
 
 Rene Comes 
 
 tree that overhangs the water. It will be in shadow, 
 and concealed by brush. He has promised to put into 
 it food, paddles and one gun." 
 
 "Are there Indians on the opposite bank?" 
 
 " A few, yes, and there is much scouting. You cannot 
 be too cautious. Float with the stream at first ; do not 
 risk the paddles until you round the big bend, and then 
 be silent. You must hide during daylight are you 
 sure you understand all ? " 
 
 " Yes ; that is clear, but I must ask a question 
 where is St. Clair? " 
 
 " I do not know exactly, but he is marching toward 
 the little Wabash ; he seeks to destroy the Miami towns." 
 
 "With what force?" 
 
 " Less than two thousand, the scouts say. He only 
 expects to meet the Indians of the Wabash." 
 
 She must have answered me without pausing to think, 
 for as the words left her lips, she drew a quick, startled 
 breath. 
 
 " Why should I have told you that ! " she exclaimed. 
 " I have forgotten I am a Wyandot ; that that I 
 only seek to save your life." 
 
 " I have long ago forgotten," I returned earnestly. 
 " And it is well you told me, for nothing less than duty 
 to my country would ever compel me to leave you here. 
 Even at risk of life I would remain to be near you, re- 
 
 [365]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 main to urge you to desert this life and return to your 
 own people." 
 
 " The Wyandots are my people." 
 
 " No ; you are not of them, save by accident. In 
 heart, in nature, in face even, you are of the white race. 
 Will you not come with us now? " 
 
 She could not doubt the earnestness of my appeal, 
 and I could feel her tremble, as her eyes scanned my face 
 In the dim light. 
 
 " No, Monsieur." 
 
 " You prefer savagery, the squalor of Wyandot vil- 
 lages, the horrors of Indian war, to to me?" I 
 faltered. " Am I nothing to you, Rene? " 
 
 " You are much, Monsieur," she said frankly. " So 
 much, I am afraid. I do not know why, but it it was 
 hard for me to come with the message. But I had to, 
 for there was no one else." 
 
 " But why should you be afraid? Have I ever been 
 discourteous? Ever lacking in respect? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! no ! It was that, Monsieur, which made 
 you different. I was not to you an Indian squaw, but a 
 woman. It was in your words, your eyes. I had grown 
 to distrust white men, but you won my faith. It is be- 
 cause I had learned to trust you I was afraid to come. 
 I I feared you would say this, and and I knew it 
 would be hard to say no." 
 
 [366]
 
 Rene Comes 
 
 " Then do not say it," I urged. " It is love that 
 calls." 
 
 " Please, Monsieur ; I cannot hear that. I am your 
 friend, but I am not of your race, not of your people. 
 It is not blood, but everything ; you do not understand. 
 I was born in the wilderness. God placed me here for 
 purposes of His own. I I am pledged to His service, 
 by a vow as sacred to me as if it had been taken before 
 men. I am His messenger to the Wyandots. They 
 need me more than ever they need me, now that my 
 father is dead." 
 
 " And do you dream I will give you up for that plea? " 
 " You must, Monsieur; you are of my church." 
 " Ay ! and always will be. Yet love will conquer, 
 Rene. It is you who do not understand. God may 
 have called you to the work of the wilderness. He has 
 also guided us through the forest to each other. In this 
 He tells you that the earlier work is done ; that now He 
 has for you a new duty. You will hear the call. I will 
 go believing, but I shall come back. Yes, I will, dear 
 girl; there are no leagues of forest now that can keep 
 me from you. Nowhere can you hide in the villages of 
 the Wyandots, but I will find you. You will not forbid 
 me coming? " 
 
 " Are there no women of your people? " 
 " There is no other Rene D'Auvray in all the world," 
 [367]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 I urged warmly, and clasped her hands. " You cannot 
 tell me not to come." 
 
 She smiled, but it was wearily, and with a little 
 pucker of pain about the lips. 
 
 " No, Monsieur; I will not tell you not to come. 
 I I shall wish so much to know of you, of of how 
 you fare on this long j ourney. It it will be lonely 
 here for me lonelier than ever. It it is not I who 
 will forget, nor will I be the first woman of my race to 
 wait to wait the return of a white man." 
 
 A head was thrust through the flap, and a gruff voice 
 spoke in a strange language. The girl's fingers pressed 
 mine firmly, and then she turned and went out in silence. 
 As she passed out of the opening her hand dropped the 
 skin, leaving the interior in darkness. 
 
 [368]
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 THE ESCAPE 
 
 T STOOD motionless, listening to the many sounds 
 without, hardly conscious yet that she had gone. 
 The hot blood was throbbing in my veins, but it was 
 caused by no thought of the dangers confronting me. 
 At that moment she alone occupied my mind. Then 
 slowly her message recurred, forcing its way in upon 
 my consciousness with insistence. Tonight our es- 
 cape must be made within two short hours. I stepped 
 forward to awaken Brady, but now, with my brain 
 cleared, a sudden suspicion came. Was this honest 
 planning? Was the desire back of it actually our es- 
 cape? Or was it born of treachery? Not for an instant 
 did I question her the purity and truth of her pur- 
 pose but Simon Girty. Why should he scheme to- 
 help us? Never before had I heard his name spoken 
 as any harbinger of mercy to the frontier. I recalled 
 his ugly face, his narrow, furtive eyes, and my doubt 
 of him increased. The plan was too easy, too well oiled, 
 to be altogether natural. And Girty himself had pro- 
 posed it, had outlined all its details to her, and found 
 a way whereby she might come to us safely. And Ham- 
 
 [369]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 ilton had left the camp ; ay ! no doubt he had, but not 
 without leaving his orders behind him. 
 
 I shook Brady awake, told him all that had occurred, 
 so far as related to our effort, but without voicing my 
 suspicion. I would have his judgment first. He sat 
 a long time in silence. 
 
 " You trust the girl, no doubt ? " 
 
 " Always ! she cannot lie." 
 
 " I thought as much," a faint smile in his eyes. " So 
 do I, Hayward ; but not Girty. I '11 be plain with you, 
 but I like not the plan ; 't is too easily arranged." 
 
 " So I thought; yet what would be the motive? " 
 
 " To put us safely out of the way ; killed while trying 
 to escape would be a simple manner of ending the whole 
 case. Hamilton has the brains to plan, and the adroit- 
 ness to keep out of it, and he had an able assistant to 
 aid. 'T is work Simon Girty would enjoy. You prom- 
 ised her we would go ? " 
 
 " What else could I do ? Besides it never occurred to 
 me until she had gone that there might be a lie in it." 
 
 " No, I suppose not," dryly, and he got to his feet, 
 both hands on my shoulders. " Then we must go, lad," 
 he said with conviction. " We cannot fail her, and it 
 may be the plan was conceived in honor. The man 
 saved my life, and may not be altogether a fiend, yet 
 I have small faith as to that." 
 
 [370]
 
 The Escape 
 
 " You will risk the venture ? " 
 
 " Ay ! the chance is better than none, and other lives 
 than ours hang in the balance. Even if it be treachery, 
 we may outwit them. We will take a different road 
 from the one ordained. It pains me to talk, lad, but 
 listen, and then get ready. I may not have blood enough 
 left in me for this job, but you have youth and strength. 
 The news we have must reach St. Clair. We '11 go to- 
 gether when the signal comes. If there be an ambus- 
 cade it will not be here, but lower down. The way 
 leading from the lodge will be left open they would 
 trap us farther away, so as to give better point to their 
 story." 
 
 He paused a moment, holding a hand against his 
 shattered jaw. 
 
 " We '11 use this to make sure how the land lays. 
 We '11 not go down the stream under the bank shadow 
 we '11 cross over. You swim ? " 
 
 " You need not doubt that." 
 
 " Good ! Once across unobserved we have the ad- 
 vantage. The woods, if I remember right, come down 
 to the shore line, and over here there are fires burning, 
 all up and down the river. We can skulk in the dark, 
 and use our eyes. If it be still, with no movement, we 
 will trust the word sent, and seek the boat. If we dis- 
 cover treachery we must try passage overland through 
 
 [371]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 the woods. With God's help we might throw those red 
 devils off our trail. Are you of a mind to try it? " 
 
 Our hands gripped, and we looked into each other's 
 faces. 
 
 " I would be a dastard else," I said shortly. " You 
 can count on me, Stephen Brady." 
 
 There was little we could do, nor much use of further 
 planning. Except silently to loosen the skins to enable 
 us to creep through, and make sure of our moccasins, 
 no preparation was required. We could only sit there 
 grimly in the dark, striving to distinguish the noises 
 outside, and listening for the signal. 'T was a long two 
 hours, and my thought centered about Rene. What 
 would happen to her if this was treachery? Hamilton 
 might use her as an innocent tool, but would he pardon 
 her purpose? I put the question to my companion. 
 
 " 'T is been also in my mind, Hayward," he confessed 
 slowly. " I fear it may be bad for the girl." 
 
 " She would not go with us." 
 
 You asked her? " 
 
 " Yes ; I urged it." 
 
 " Then there is nothing more to be done." He 
 reached over, and touched me. " The work before us 
 is too serious, lad, to let that interfere. Do not imagine 
 she will suffer greatly. Hamilton would not dare it 
 would cost him the alliance of the Wyandots." 
 
 [372]
 
 The Escape 
 
 Twice we started at the distant hoot of an owl, but it 
 was not repeated. Then, at last, the signal came, sound- 
 ing near at hand, from somewhere down the stream. 
 Brady went first, worming his way silently beneath the 
 flap, and, the instant he disappeared, I followed. There 
 was a slight gully to our left, and we crept into it, keep- 
 ing down out of the gleam of fire. We neither saw nor 
 heard any guard, except the fellow in front, who stood 
 with back turned toward us, silhouetted between us and 
 the blaze. On the other side of the fire was a group of 
 savages, two of them beating drums discordantly. A 
 white man, in fringed coat of brown leather, came out 
 of the shadows beyond, spoke to one of the Indians, 
 and passed on. Brady, his head uplifted watchfully, 
 waited until the fellow disappeared, and then began to 
 creep down toward the river. Lying side by side at the 
 edge of the water he put his lips close to my ear. 
 
 " On your back, lad, with only the nose out ; stroke 
 easy, and let the current carry you down." 
 
 He lowered himself into the stream, which was deep 
 to the shore, as silently as a ghost. A dozen feet away 
 I lost sight of him entirely amid the dim, dancing shad- 
 ows. Then I followed with equal caution, my face 
 turned up to the sky. It was a dark night, but with a 
 few stars visible peeping down through rifts of cloud. 
 The small river was not wide, nor the current particu- 
 
 [373]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 larly swift, and I had not been carried far down stream 
 when the overhanging branches of the opposite bank 
 gave shelter. I drew myself ashore, and sat there, shiv- 
 ering in my wet clothes, the night air chill, and stared 
 anxiously about, and across to the shore we had just 
 left. The heavy, dark woods were silent; I could hear 
 a scurrying in the bushes at the top of the bank, but it 
 was only the frightened flight of some startled wild 
 animal. Across the river I could perceive the red glow 
 of a dozen fires, the most of them mere twinkling lights 
 well back in the wood shadows. Those nearer the stream 
 reflected across the running water in varied tints of col- 
 oring. There was much noise echoing through the 
 nigiit, all blending into discord, shouts, a medley of 
 voices, the beating of tom-toms, the clink of steel on 
 steel. Here and there, outlined in some circle of light, 
 dark, indistinct figures appeared and vanished. But 
 there was no sign of alarm, or excitement. 
 
 I moved down the shore cautiously, keeping well 
 below the concealing bank until I found Brady. He was 
 crouched in the shadow of a great tree root, his whole 
 attention riveted on the opposite side. 
 
 " There are no signs of pursuit? " 
 
 " Not that I can see. I have watched here some min- 
 utes, but there has been no movement along the bank. 
 We will move on down stream." 
 
 [374]
 
 The Escape 
 
 It was hard walking amid the tangled roots, and 
 we made slow work of it. Brady, in advance, stumbled 
 once or twice, and, I noticed, held one hand pressed 
 against his side as though from pain, breathing heavily. 
 To our left, but some distance away, a voice called, and 
 was answered by another. So, toiling on, we came to a 
 sharp bend in the stream. 
 
 " It must be about opposite here, Hayward," he said 
 stopping, " the girl told you the boat would be. What 
 is that lumping shadow yonder? Your eyes are younger 
 than mine." 
 
 I looked where he pointed, shading my eyes, and 
 gradually focusing the outlines until they assumed 
 definite shape. 
 
 " It is a big tree bent down over the river ; no doubt 
 the one she meant." 
 
 " You see no movement ? " 
 
 I strained my eyes, searching the dark shore inch by 
 inch, but could perceive nothing; the lights of the fires 
 were far away. 
 
 " It is still as death over there." 
 
 He shot a swift glance at me, as if the words pleased 
 him little. In the dim starshine his face appeared 
 ghastly white. 
 
 " Perhaps the days of miracles are not gone," he 
 said doubtfully, " and Girty may have played fair* 
 
 [375]
 
 __________________________________ 
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 Anyhow there is nothing to be done now but test it. 
 Come on, lad ; we '11 take to water again." 
 
 The cheerful note in his voice bolstered my own cour- 
 age. We swam straight this time, with steady stroke, 
 our eyes scanning the bank we were approaching. The 
 forest shadows overhung the water almost from shore 
 to shore, and even if there were watchers there, we were 
 not likely to be seen. And the canoe was there, smug- 
 gled under the leaning tree, bow to bank, rendered shape- 
 less by a covering of broken branches. We lay hold of 
 the sides, standing waist deep in water, our eyes search- 
 ing the high bank towering dark above us. There was 
 no movement, no sound, and I lowered the branches 
 one by one into the water, and permitted them to float 
 silently down stream. As the last one was released, 
 Brady seemed to lose his hold on the canoe, his lips 
 uttering a low moan, and he staggered toward me. I 
 caught, and held him up above the water till he recov- 
 ered from his faintness. 
 
 " What is it? Are you ill? " 
 
 " I I hardly know," he managed to answer, the 
 words barely audible. " There is such pain in my side ; 
 I must have been more badly hurt than I thought, and 
 and I shake with chill." 
 
 " You must n't give up now, Brady ; here, let me get 
 you into the canoe." 
 
 [376]
 
 The Escape 
 
 " No," he protested. " Leave me alone on the bank, 
 and go on. It is jour only hope." 
 
 " I will not," I said indignantly. " You '11 be all right 
 tomorrow. Put your hands on my shoulders so ! " 
 
 He was a heavy man, but I lifted him by sheer 
 bodily strength, forcing him over the side until he rested 
 at full length in the bottom of the canoe. His eyes 
 followed my movements appealingly. 
 
 "Is that easy?" 
 
 " Ay ! but you '11 be sorry for it. Faith, yer a strong 
 lad." 
 
 I stood up in the water, wondering if the slight noise 
 we had made had created alarm. Nothing reached my 
 ears but the murmur of the stream and the rustle of 
 leaves. Then surely there were no Indians near by 
 another moment's delay could not increase our danger. 
 I searched with my eyes the dark gloom of the shore, 
 memory reverting to Mademoiselle. Where would she 
 be? Had she fled as soon as she had given the signal? 
 Would it be in her heart to let me go without another 
 word? That would not be like the girl. More probable 
 far that she was somewhere at hand watching, waiting 
 for us to appear along that black shore. I could almost 
 feel her presence. 
 
 " Brady," I whispered. " I am going to scout this 
 bank a minute. You lie still." 
 
 [377]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 He did not answer, and I bent lower. His eyes were 
 closed. Concealed by the shade of the great tree I 
 waded cautiously ashore and crept out into a maze of 
 roots. The higher bank rose sheer before me. To the 
 right there was an opening, as if a trail led down to the 
 river, and revealed there against the upper sky, some- 
 thing moved. For an instant I could tell no more ; then 
 I recognized a human figure stealing cautiously toward 
 me through the gloom. It moved silently as a spirit, 
 and my heart beat fiercely as I rose up and stared. 
 She was close upon me before I was sure. 
 
 " Rene." 
 
 " Oh," a little catch in the quick whisper ; " then 
 then it is you; how how did you come here? " 
 
 I drew her back into the deeper shadow, and told her 
 the brief story in swift words, clinging to her hands, 
 as I held her close. I could not distinguish her face, 
 but she listened, her soft breath on my cheek. 
 
 " Oh, I am so glad so glad, Monsieur. I did not 
 know until after I gave the signal. I I came down 
 here to be sure to, to say good-by," she faltered, 
 '* and and saw them waiting." 
 
 "Then it was treachery? The purpose was to kill 
 us? Girtylied?" 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur. You you will not believe I knew ? 
 That I suspected such a thing? " 
 
 [378]
 
 The Escape 
 
 My handclasp tightened. 
 
 " No, dear, no ; go on. Where are the men ? " 
 
 " Most of them, ten or twelve as near as I could make 
 out, are in a ravine at the edge of the camp, yonder 
 close to the shore. There are three others up above 
 here, hiding behind the bank." 
 
 " I see ; the attack was to be made by those above 
 as we crept along, and if either of us got away those 
 three devils were to complete the job." 
 
 The cold-bloodiness of the arrangement, the cowardly 
 treachery, the making of her a tool in the foul plan, 
 swept over me with sudden force. For the moment I was 
 conscious only of fierce anger, a desire for revenge. 
 
 " Where are they now, the three? " 
 
 " To the left, Monsieur, near where that lonely tree 
 stands. I had to creep down the trail so as not to be 
 seen." 
 
 " They can be seen from there ? " 
 
 " If you know where to look; they appear just black 
 blotches on the ground." 
 
 I made quick resolve, casting caution to the winds. 
 
 " Stay here in the shadow, Rene," I said, thrusting 
 her back. " I will see for myself." 
 
 " Monsieur " 
 
 " I will do nothing rash, never fear. Wait here for 
 me until I come." 
 
 [379]
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 IN THE WOODS 
 
 "1 1 7ITH my body still below in the narrow trail I 
 could distinguish the three dim forms at the 
 summit of the bank. They might have been several rods 
 distant, but were discernible. I had performed some 
 swift thinking in the last five minutes, and had decided 
 what should be done Rene should not be left behind 
 to meet Hamilton's vengeance, nor were these fellows 
 going to escape scot free. How I was going to accom- 
 plish all this I did not in the least know, but, God guid- 
 ing, there would be found a way. I stood there, striv- 
 ing to determine how best to attain to the rear of the 
 three, when some voice spoke in the Indian tongue, and 
 the fellow nearest me, as if in response to an order, 
 rose to his feet and advanced in my direction. I 
 crouched down, my heart throbbing joyously, watching 
 him approach. He had covered half the distance, when 
 the voice spoke again, and the second man also stood up. 
 I dropped silently back into the darker shadow, planted 
 my feet firmly in the soft earth, my body poised and 
 ready. 
 
 The fellow came noiselessly along the bank in his 
 [381]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 moccasins, but evidently without fear or caution. Sud- 
 denly his form blotted out the strip of sky as he stepped 
 carelessly into the trail and began the descent. He 
 looked a big savage, his war-bonnet giving him the ap- 
 pearance of a giant. There was a blanket about his 
 shoulders, and he held a gun clasped close to his body. 
 I do not think he even saw me, but my blow landed 
 squarely on his chin, and he went over as if struck by 
 a pole axe, his arms flung out, the gun splashing the 
 edge of the water. And there he lay without so much as 
 a quiver. 
 
 I stepped back hastily into cover, rubbing my 
 knuckles, and bracing for the next. No doubt the near- 
 est savage had heard the sound of the blow or the fall- 
 ing body. He came forward cautiously, peering down 
 into the dense darkness below before venturing the 
 descent. Yet he neither saw nor heard anything to 
 alarm, and finally started downward, one hand steady- 
 ing himself against the bank, as his feet felt for lodg- 
 ment. He also was an Indian, a young, slender warrior 
 from what little I could see, with only a feather in his 
 hair, naked to the waist. He was opposite me, his head 
 turned aside, as he gazed up stream, when my arm shot 
 straight out, the clinched fist taking him behind the 
 ear. He gave vent to one stifled moan, his body shutting 
 up like a jack knife. 
 
 [382]
 
 In the Woods 
 
 "What's all that noise?" asked a voice sharply in 
 English. " Come, what 's goin* on down there? " 
 
 I held my breath; heaven be praised, it was Girty. 
 I thought he would never come. I stood expectant, not 
 daring to move a muscle, while he peered down the dark 
 slope, and cursed the Indians for their failure to answer. 
 The silence seemed to anger him, for he jumped from the 
 bank, landing in the path directly in front of where I 
 stood. He saw me, and flung up one hand, but my blow 
 crashed through his guard and landed. Never did I 
 strike harder, and had it hit squarely Simon Girty would 
 have known no more. But his upraised arm saved him. 
 With a grunt of fear and pain he went staggering back, 
 tripped over the big savage, and fell headlong. I saw 
 him struggle to rise, leaped forward and gripped him. 
 With one swing about my head I sent him flinging out 
 into the water. 
 
 God knows what became of him. I do not. Whether 
 he sank, or whether he made shore, I did not wait to see. 
 There was enough else for me to do, and, without so 
 much as glancing toward where he went splashing down, 
 emitting a yell of terror, I seized the gun lying beside 
 the water, stripped the big warrior of his store of pow- 
 der and ball, and sprang hastily to where I had left 
 Mademoiselle. She was crouched behind the great tree, 
 and I caught her by the arm. 
 
 [383]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " You must get into the canoe, Rene," I said shortly. 
 " Come, we have no time to lose." 
 
 " I, Monsieur? " 
 
 " Yes, you ; I am not going to leave you here for 
 Hamilton to wreak his rage on. There is no time to 
 argue now." 
 
 " But, Monsieur " 
 
 " Never mind that; will you go as I say? " 
 
 There was a silvery gleam of star on her upturned 
 face, and I could see her eyes, startled, puzzled, half 
 frightened, gazing up into mine. Then the long lashes 
 drooped over them. 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur," she said, her lips trembling. " I 
 will go with you." 
 
 I am not going to set down here the story of that 
 journey. In all the years since my lips have never 
 told it in all its details, nor have I permitted my mind 
 to dwell upon those days and nights, save in moments 
 of loneliness and drifting memory. All I shall attempt 
 now is to sketch swiftly those incidents which affect this 
 tale. We were off on the black water, the fragile canoe 
 leaping to the sweep of my paddle and the pressure of 
 the current. The great trees cast shadows from bank 
 to bank, and we must have vanished like an arrow. 
 Rene sat facing me, her head bent low, her hands grasp- 
 ing either side. Only once did I note her glance up, 
 [384]
 
 WE WERE OFF ON THE BLACK WATER, THE FRAGILE CANOE LEAPING TO THE SWEEP 
 
 OF MY PADDLE. 
 
 Page 384.
 
 In the Woods 
 
 timidly, as if the fright of my arbitrary words still 
 lingered, and then her eyes fell again. I sent the leap- 
 ing craft a half mile, a mile, reckless of the pain with 
 which I gripped the paddle, then left it to the current 
 while I held my bleeding, swollen hand in the cool water 
 alongside. Mademoiselle again looked up. 
 
 " May I not bind it up, Monsieur? " 
 
 I nodded, wondering at her words and manner, the 
 strange shrinking from me so different from her wont. 
 She dipped a cloth in the river, and bound it about the 
 bruise, wet and dripping, fastening it in some way 
 with gentle fingers. 
 
 " Shall I not take the paddle, Monsieur? " she asked, 
 but still with bowed head. " I understand its use." 
 
 " No, not now ; there will be plenty of work of that 
 sort later. Look rather to Brady there, if you will; 
 the man appears in bad case." 
 
 I did not notice much of what she did, for I was too 
 busy at my own task, baffled often by the sweep of the 
 current and the trees leaning out over the water. Yet 
 she turned at once, as if my words were an order, bal- 
 ancing herself skilfully in the frail craft. When I 
 glanced that way again she had him sitting up, with 
 head pillowed on her shoulder, and a blanket at his back. 
 
 " How are you feeling, now, friend? " I questioned 
 cheerfully. " In less pain ? " 
 
 [385]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " A bit, yes," the voice strained and unnatural. 
 "This good angel here has done her work well. What 
 has occurred since I slept, Master Hayward ? " 
 
 I told him as well as I could but doubt if he under- 
 stood much of it, for more than once his head nodded, 
 and Rene held him from falling. When I ended the 
 tale he said nothing, and a silence fell upon us. There 
 was no stopping that night, the girl and I taking turns 
 at the paddle, although I did the most of it. I knew 
 not what pursuit there might be, but feared the worst. 
 Once I asked her if the savages had other canoes at 
 the village, but she did not know, and I scarcely think 
 there was another word exchanged between us, save as 
 we shifted places in the boat. Brady slept uneasily 
 much of the time, moaning, and occasionally speaking 
 aloud. When I touched him I found his flesh hot and 
 feverish. 
 
 The dawn found me with the paddle, but Rene still 
 wide awake. There was a thin, gray fog over the river, 
 which turned to purple as the light strengthened, and 
 we were at the apex of a great bend, the course of 
 the stream ahead leading into the northwest. That was 
 not our direction, and besides I felt that if there was 
 pursuit it would be safer far ashore. Just as the sun 
 broke through the mist we came unexpectedly to the 
 mouth of a small stream leading into the main river from 
 
 [386]
 
 In the Woods 
 
 the south. So thoroughly was it concealed by a thick 
 growth of bushes, that we would have slipped by, had I 
 not been skirting the shore closely, seeking some such 
 opening. I headed the canoe straight in, pressing aside 
 the branches to gain passage, and found beyond a nar- 
 row creek, up which we managed to paddle for several 
 hundred yards. Then I stepped overboard, and 
 dragged the light craft still higher, until I discovered a 
 place of concealment behind a huge rotting log. 
 
 Here we left it, Rene and I bearing with us the guns 
 and our small store of provisions. I had cut a cane for 
 Brady, and, with its help, he managed to get along 
 slowly, although sight of his face made my heart ache. 
 Thus in single file we waded up the tiny stream, until 
 we attained a ledge of rocks where our feet would leave 
 no trail. Over these we toiled, helping each other, 
 until we came to the upland, into an open forest, car- 
 peted with autumn leaves. By this time Brady was too 
 exhausted to go further, sinking helplessly on the 
 ground. Rene also looked worn and heavy-eyed, and 
 I had no heart to urge them on. We ate sparsely of 
 what food we had, but Brady barely touched his por- 
 tion. I wrapped him in our only blanket, and the three 
 of us slept. 
 
 The sun was past the meridian when I awoke and 
 called the others. It would be safer farther away from 
 
 [387]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 the Maumco, and every mile gained was to our advan- 
 tage. The traveling was easy, through an open forest, 
 with firm turf underfoot, yet our progress was pitifully 
 slow. I loaded myself with all our equipment, leaving 
 Rene free to aid Brady, but it was plain to be seen his 
 every step was painful. Long before dark we were 
 compelled to cease the effort and make camp. I offered 
 to make a small fire so that he could have warm food, 
 but the man refused, striving to smile cheerfully, as he 
 crunched what we had in his mouth. His cheeks 
 burned with fever, and his eyes appeared unnatural. I 
 gathered dry leaves to protect us from the chill of the 
 night, and wrapped him securely in the blanket. Just 
 before dark Rene came timidly to where I sat alone, 
 thinking of some way of escape. 
 
 " Monsieur." 
 
 " Yes," I looked up, but her eyes failed to meet mine. 
 
 " Monsieur Brady would speak with you." 
 
 I got up, yet paused a moment hesitating. 
 
 " What is it, Rene? Are you afraid of me? " 
 
 " No, Monsieur ; you are very good. Why you ask 
 that? " 
 
 I laughed, but still unsatisfied. 
 
 " I hardly know myself. Probably I imagine things, 
 but it seems to me you act different of late. Are you 
 sure you are the same ? " 
 
 [388]
 
 In the Woods 
 
 The lowered lashes lifted just a little, so I had glimpse 
 of the eyes below. 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur, I am the same." 
 
 I went across to where Brady lay and sat down beside 
 him. How tired his eyes looked, and his face was drawn 
 and white, no flush now in his cheeks. 
 
 "You sent for me?" 
 
 " Yes, Hayward," slowly, with difficulty making his 
 words clear. " Lift me a little against this tree ; I can 
 speak easier. Yes, that will do, lad. I called you so I 
 could say that I realize the awful position my illness 
 places you in. I ought not to have come, nor would I 
 had I known I was so badly hurt. I thought the pain 
 would wear away once I was in the open, but but it 
 gets worse." 
 
 " It is in your side? " 
 
 " Yes ; there is no mark of a wound, and I cannot 
 understand the trouble. I ran the gauntlet on the 
 island, and was often struck, but did not realize the 
 blows had greatly injured me. One must have been 
 serious. Now hear me, lad it is not right that you 
 should remain here longer with me. I cannot go on, 
 and you must think of those others whose lives depend 
 on your warning. I am nothing; I am an old man, 
 't is not likely I will live through this. You must leave 
 me here and go." 
 
 [389]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 "You think I will?" 
 
 " There is nothing else to do; it is duty." 
 
 " Brady," I said gravely, " you have been a good 
 comrade to me, and I '11 not leave you to perish in this 
 wilderness. You waste your breath asking such a 
 thing. You would never desert me ; no ! we face it out 
 together." 
 
 "But the girl?" 
 
 " She would answer as I do. There is no need that I 
 ask her. Come, man, get a good night's rest, and we 
 will try it again. The morning may find you strong and 
 ready." 
 
 He shook his head, his eyes on my face, as if he 
 would read there some hesitancy. Then he extended 
 his hand, and gripped mine. 
 
 " You are a brave lad, and a good stout heart," he 
 whispered brokenly. " Help me to lie down again, and 
 we '11 try another day." 
 
 It was a bright, crisp morning, but it brought little 
 of encouragement with it. We traveled but two hours 
 in the morning, and even less in the afternoon. It made 
 my heart bleed to see him try, and Rene begged that we 
 go no further. Leaving her to gather together leaves 
 for the night, and build a windbreak with interlaced 
 branches, I set off alone up the bank of a considerable 
 stream beside which we had made camp. Some miles 
 
 [390]
 
 In the Woods 
 
 away I ventured to use my gun, and came back before 
 dark with a wild turkey. In the depths of a ravine, I 
 built a small fire, using the driest wood I could find, 
 cooked the bird, and brought to Brady some hot broth. 
 He ate it with relish, smoked a pipe, and lay down. 
 We both sat beside him for some time, encouraged by 
 the belief that the man was really better. He appeared 
 to be out of pain, and talked much, dwelling upon the 
 days of his boyhood, and describing his earlier exploits 
 in the woods. At the end he shook hands with us both, 
 and spoke cheerfully of the morrow. I wrapped him in 
 the blanket, and covered him with leaves. It was with 
 almost a light heart that I fell asleep. 
 
 [391]
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 BEFORE ST. CLAIR 
 
 T T was the gray dawn when Mademoiselle awoke me, 
 shaking me soundly ere I could be aroused. That 
 something was wrong I perceived instantly from the 
 expression of her face, and sat up, glancing hastily 
 about, expecting the approach of savages. 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " He is gone, Monsieur ! Monsieur Brady is gone." 
 
 " Gone ! you mean left camp. Why that is impos- 
 sible ; he could barely walk." 
 
 " But he is not here, Monsieur," she insisted. " See : 
 it was there he lay. I will tell you all I know. I woke 
 up in the night and thought of him, of how hard it was 
 for so strong a man to be so weak and ill. Then I got 
 up and went over quietly to be sure he was all right. 
 But he was awake, Monsieur, staring up at the sky with 
 eyes wide open. He saw me, and said he was nervous 
 and could not sleep. No, he told me he was not in pain, 
 but complained of being cold. I spread more leaves 
 over him, and he said that was better. Then then 
 he took my hand and kissed it, and begged me to go back 
 and and lie down. He was very nice and gentle, and 
 
 [393]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 smiled at me. So I went back, and crept into my leaves, 
 and tried to sleep. He did not move, yet I lay there a 
 long while thinking. I think I cried a little, Mon- 
 sieur, for I felt so sorry. At last I slept again. It was 
 just a little light when I awoke once more, and my first 
 memory was of him. I went over there and and he 
 was gone. I could see where he had rested in the leaves, 
 and the blanket on the ground, but but he was not 
 there. I sought for him, but there was no trace 
 nothing. So I came and woke you." 
 
 I was on my feet, a feeling of dread tugging at my 
 heart. I felt that I already knew what had happened, 
 yet I could not tell her not now, not until I was sure. 
 
 " He could not have gone far, Rene," I said hastily. 
 " Perhaps to the river for a drink. Come, we will see." 
 
 The ground about the camp had been so trampled by 
 our feet that, at first, I could not pick up the trail. 
 Finally, taking a wider circle, I came upon softer soil 
 and the imprint of his moccasins. I knew they were his 
 because of one foot dragging, and the impression of his 
 cane. They led down toward the river, and I followed 
 swiftly, the girl close behind, until we stood at the edge 
 of the stream. The man's trail ended there. I ex- 
 plored the bank for some distance up and down, but 
 without result. There were tears glimmering in Rene's 
 eyes, as I came back she also was beginning to under- 
 
 [394]
 
 Before St. Clear 
 
 stand. Without a word I waded out into the water, and 
 swam across to the other shore. There was nothing 
 there no sign, no mark of any description and I 
 came back to where she waited, wading out with drip- 
 ping garments to the bank. 
 
 "There there was nothing, Monsieur?" 
 
 " Nothing," I answered gravely. " He has not 
 crossed over," I hesitated an instant, but could not resist 
 the questioning horror in her eyes. " You understand, 
 do you not? " 
 
 " You you think," she faltered, " that Monsieur 
 Brady has has killed himself?" 
 
 " He has given his life for others, my girl for you 
 and me, and those soldiers of St. Glair's. Do you 
 remember when he sent for me? He begged me then to 
 leave him and go on ; he asked it for your sake, as well 
 as theirs. He told me it was my duty; that he was 
 old, helpless, and his wound would not let him travel." 
 
 " And you refused ? " 
 
 " Ay ! I would not think of it, and at last, he prom- 
 ised to try again. It it never occurred to me that 
 he would do this." 
 
 She stood a moment, silent, tears on her cheeks, look- 
 ing blindly out at the water. Then she sank upon her 
 knees, holding the crucifix against her face. I could 
 see the movement of her lips, but heard nothing; only I 
 
 [395]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 knew she prayed for his soul, and my own eyes were 
 moist as I knelt beside her. Then I lifted her up by the 
 hand, and we went back up the hill to the camp. 
 
 There was nothing to hope for in waiting, and all 
 our duty lay beyond. Without the exchange of a 
 word we packed what few things we had, and started, 
 following the bank of the stream. It was the first of 
 many days, all alike full of hardship and peril. Now 
 and then we came to open land, but more often our 
 course lay through tangled woods, or morasses choked 
 with underbrush. At night we slept beneath leaves, sel- 
 dom venturing upon a fire. The girl bore it all without 
 complaint, seldom speaking except to ask some question, 
 and ever holding me aloof in some strange, silent man- 
 ner I could not comprehend. If I addressed her the 
 answers were as if she responded to an order ; nor could 
 I read aught in her eyes but passive obedience. It was 
 not often I caught their expression at all, for she stood 
 before me with lowered lids and lips that faltered. At 
 night I lay awake, listening to the wild life of the great 
 woods, and thought of why she had so changed. The 
 vivacious, saucy French girl had vanished; here with 
 me was the silent, obedient Indian. Ay, perhaps that 
 was it ! I had taken her by force, by strength, and arbi- 
 trary command. She had witnessed my fight on the 
 banks of the Maumee, she had seen me strike down the 
 
 [396]
 
 Before St. Clear 
 
 big warrior, and fling Girty as if he had been a child 
 far out into the river. Then I had come direct to 
 her, ordering her into the boat. I was no longer the 
 lover, the asker of a favor. I was the conqueror, com- 
 manding obedience. I had borne her away with me as a 
 chief might the maid of his fancy. I had taken the spoils 
 of battle. The very act had reawakened all that was 
 Indian within her the old environment, the old life, the 
 old subjugation of childhood days in the villages of the 
 Wyandots, revived instantly. She was an Indian, I a 
 white man who had conquered who demanded her life. 
 She had come because she must, because the fates had 
 so ordained. I was to her a master, a tyrant ; my word 
 was law, her part obedience. It was not love, but fear, 
 which gave me such control. The thought shocked me, 
 yet I knew it must be true. Nor could I speak the sus- 
 picion; I know not why, or how, yet she held me from 
 her as if there were an invisible barrier between. I tried 
 to speak, to explain, yet failed, fearful of what she might 
 answer, dreading the result. If love had fled and I 
 was not even sure there ever had been love I shrank 
 from hearing it from her lips. So we went on in silence 
 and heartache, along the dim forest aisles she the 
 slave, I the master. Oh, those were dreary days, long, 
 lonely nights, as I watched her, anticipating my slight- 
 est wish, her eyes averted, her lips trembling as she 
 
 [397]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 answered me. Yet I dare not speak, dare not hope 
 even to her my protestations might be mockery, an 
 insult worse by far than mere command. She could 
 not understand honor between a white man and an 
 Indian maid. 
 
 It was a miracle that we passed those leagues in 
 safety, encountering none of those numerous bands of 
 savages which, I learned later, were flocking southward 
 in ever-increasing force. They must have been all about 
 us, yet in some way we passed between. No doubt this 
 was because we kept from off the trails, traveling 
 straight through the woods by sun, halting, or turning 
 aside at the slightest sign. We saw and heard Indians, 
 but kept concealed ourselves. Once we heard their yell- 
 ing in our rear, and once several shots rang out at some 
 distance. Hiding on the banks of a silvery stream we 
 watched a band of Miamis cross a mile below, and one 
 night some noise aroused me, and I stared out through 
 a coverlet of dried leaves at a spectral body of savages 
 filing past in the gloom, as silent as phantoms. There 
 must have been fifty of them, but they disappeared in 
 the dim woods ignorant of our presence. I saw Rene 
 sit up after they had gone, and then steal cautiously 
 over and look at me. I lay quiet with closed eyes, the 
 horrid suspicion in my mind that she contemplated 
 flight; that she meant to join them. Very well, let her 
 
 [398]
 
 Before St. Clear 
 
 go, if that was all she cared ; and my teeth clinched, as I 
 watched her under lowered lashes ; I would not lift a 
 hand to prevent. But the girl went back to her bed of 
 leaves and laid down. 
 
 It was a raw November morning that we came unex- 
 pectedly upon St. Clair's outposts. The ground was 
 covered with snow, and the little pools were skimmed over 
 with thin ice. It had been too cold to rest, and we had 
 walked much of the night, afraid to build a fire. Chilled 
 to the marrow by the icy wind that swept through the 
 trees and buffeted us, I had wrapped the girl in our 
 only blanket, fastening it about her head and face, hurt 
 as I did so by the dumb, patient, bewildered look in her 
 eyes. She tried to protest, yet at my first stern word 
 ceased and wrapped herself closely in the folds. We 
 had crossed a slight depression, skirting an opening in 
 the woods, advancing with some caution because of tram- 
 pled places observed in the snow. I was in front break- 
 ing the trail that she might have easier marching, when 
 suddenly a man stepped out of a thicket, and with gun 
 at my breast roughly commanded a halt. I paused 
 instantly, uncertain as to which side the challenger was 
 on, yet a glance at his face and dress reassured me. 
 
 "Who are yer? an' what do yer want?" he asked 
 suspiciously. 
 
 " I am an officer of the Fort Harmar garrison," I 
 [399]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 answered, " with news from the North. To what com- 
 mand do you belong? " 
 
 " The Kentucky militia," he acknowledged sullenly. 
 " Colonel Oldham." 
 
 " Where is your colonel ? " 
 
 " Back yonder on that rise o' ground; you kin go on, 
 but I '11 keep an eye on yer." 
 
 We left him, following the direction pointed out, 
 hearing him call to some one in our rear, yet paying no 
 heed. The very ease with which he had passed us on 
 was evidence enough of lax discipline, and small con- 
 ception of the danger of the command. There was a 
 plain track through the snow, which led to a camp fire 
 blazing cheerily in a grove of trees, with maybe a dozen 
 men clustered about it. No one appeared to notice us 
 as we drew near. 
 
 " Which is Colonel Oldham ? " I asked, glancing about 
 the group. One stood up, a smooth-faced, ruddy- 
 cheeked man of fifty, with iron-gray hair, and eyes that 
 looked as if they laughed easily. I liked him at first 
 glance. 
 
 " That is my name," he said shortly. " What is it? 
 St. Denis, man ! " as his glance swept over me, " you 
 look as if you had been far from the settlements and 
 had a hard trip." 
 
 " I have, sir ; I come from the Maumee. I am an 
 [400 ]
 
 Before St. Clair 
 
 officer of regulars with news of importance for St. 
 Clair." 
 
 Every eye was on me now and Oldham took a step 
 nearer. 
 
 " The Maumee ! " he exclaimed. " Ay, that is a 
 journey. News for St. Clair, you say what news? 
 There was a rumor down below that the Indians of the 
 northwest were mustering. Know you anything of 
 that?" 
 
 "They have already mustered, sir. I was at their 
 rendezvous. Even now they are at my heels the 
 whole of them, Shawnees, Miamis, Delawares, Wyandots 
 and, for all I know, as many more. There are white 
 renegades with them, and English officers I suspect I 
 saw Hamilton myself on the Maumee, and he evidently 
 was managing affairs." 
 
 There was a muttering of voices, and Oldham let out 
 an oath. 
 
 " Well, sir, I believe it, but I '11 be hanged if you can 
 make St. Clair. The arrogant old fool may listen to 
 you, but I doubt even that. He thinks this is a pleasure 
 party we are on. What do you think he did a week 
 ago?" 
 
 I looked at him uncomprehending, stunned by such 
 mutinous words openly spoken. 
 
 " Sent back a whole regiment of regulars on a wild 
 [401]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 goose chase after deserters, and we within fifty miles of 
 the Miami towns." 
 
 " What force have you here ? " 
 
 " Less than fourteen hundred all militia but one 
 regiment. From the Maumee, Ensign? and did you 
 come through alone with that squaw ? " 
 
 I glanced back at her, standing silently behind me, 
 the blanket drawn over her head and face. 
 
 " Take it off, Rene," I said quietly. 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur." 
 
 Her hands obediently threw the wrapping aside, per- 
 mitting it to drape over her shoulders. She lifted her 
 head, and stood facing them, with eyes centering upon 
 Oldham. He gasped, and jerked the hat from off his 
 head. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he stammered. " A white 
 woman? " 
 
 " A French girl, sir, whom I found with the Wyan- 
 dots. Can you send us back to St. Clair? " 
 
 He stared at her so long, hat still in hand, that I 
 thought he did not hear. An officer touched him on the 
 shoulder and spoke a word. 
 
 " Ah, yes, certainly St. Clair. At once, sir, but I 
 do n't envy you your reception. By Jove, I lost my wits 
 seeing such a woman as that here in this hole. Some- 
 one send Masters here." 
 
 [402]
 
 Before St. Clazr 
 
 He came quickly, a youngish lad, \vilh white hair 
 and eyebrows, but intelligent face, who never took his 
 eyes off Rene. Oldham spoke brusquely. 
 
 " Take this officer and the the lady to General St. 
 Clair at once. Tell Butler I say it is important, that 
 he be given immediate interview. Here, wait ! get the 
 lady a horse somewhere. Captain, can he take yours ? " 
 
 " With pleasure, sir ; I will fetch the animal." 
 
 They watched us depart until we had crossed the 
 ridge, Masters and I trudging through the snow at the 
 horse's head. Rene had drawn up her blanket, but I 
 could see her eyes watching me, when I glanced around 
 at her. It was not long, however, until we came out of 
 the forest, into a bit of lowland near the river, where a 
 dozen tents, grimy and dirty looking, stood on the bank. 
 There were soldiers everywhere, gathered about camp 
 fires, with a few guards patroling beats along the forest 
 edge. Masters led the way through the motley crowd 
 up to the central tent. There was delay there, Rene 
 sitting motionless in the saddle, and I waiting impa- 
 tiently beside her. At last Masters came back. 
 
 " He will see you, sir." 
 
 " Very well ; are there any women in camp ? " 
 
 " A few, sir ; * non-com ' wives mostly, washerwomen 
 and cooks; they are in those two tents there the 
 officers' kitchens." 
 
 [4031
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " Take the lady over there, and leave her in good 
 hands. Rene." 
 
 She looked down at me. 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur." 
 
 " This soldier will take you to some women who will 
 take care of you until I come. You will wait for me." 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur." 
 
 I waited until they started, and then advanced to the 
 tent. A tall, slender man, in a colonel's uniform, 
 pointed the way within, and I stepped through the 
 narrow opening. The interior was plain a bearskin 
 stretched on the ground; two officers on camp-stools 
 against the canvas ; a sentry beside the open flap stand- 
 ing motionless ; a rude table of one unplaned board, and 
 behind it, seated, St. Clair. He was a spare man, with 
 broad shoulders and prominent nose, wearing a long 
 queue of thick, gray hair, which was plainly visible 
 below his three-cornered hat. He was attired in blanket 
 coat, with hood dangling down his back. I had met him 
 once, but it was clear he retained no recollection of me, 
 as he surveyed me coldly across the table. 
 
 " Well, sir," he snapped, " Colonel Oldham says you 
 bring news. Who are you ? " 
 
 " Ensign Hayward, of Fort Harmar," I answered, 
 bringing my hand up in salute. " I was sent with a 
 message to the Wyandots." 
 
 [404]
 
 Before St. Clair 
 
 The stern lines of his face broke into a grim smile. 
 
 " Ah, yes, I recall that. One of Harmar's fool 
 notions. Told him as much when I got back. Well, 
 your peace offering didn't do much good, did it? I 
 hear there is hell brewing in those north woods." 
 
 " It is already brewed, sir. The tribes have got 
 together to crush you. They rendezvoused on the 
 Maumee." 
 
 " Huh ! that is a ways away. No great danger from 
 that source till we 're ready. What tribes were there, 
 do you know ? " 
 
 " I saw them, sir ; Wyandots, Pottawattomies, Shaw- 
 nees, Delawares and Miamis. There were also some 
 Ojibwas, and a sprinkling of others, mostly young 
 warriors." . 
 
 " Who heads the conspiracy ? " 
 
 " Little Turtle, of the Miamis, but there are English- 
 men with them also ; Hamilton himself was there." 
 
 " The cursed hound ; so you were there, with them, 
 hey ? a prisoner ? " 
 
 " Yes, General ; a scout named Stephen Brady and 
 I. We got away by means of a canoe on the river." 
 
 " Where is Brady? I know the old coon." 
 
 " He died, sir, and I came on alone." 
 
 No one spoke, and I went on. 
 
 " It was a hard journey, and there were many delays 
 [405]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 on the way. I came as quickly as I could, sir, but I 
 do n't think the savages are far behind." 
 
 " Oh, do n't you, indeed," sarcastically. " It was 
 not advice I was asking, and as to what is in front 
 of us my own scouts keep me posted. You 're young, 
 and easily frightened. I happen to know there is n't a 
 hostile Indian within fifty miles of us not a bloody 
 one. I do n't care what they do up on the Maumee. 
 We '11 go on to the Miami towns tomorrow, raze them, 
 and be back to the Ohio before that bunch gets started. 
 I doubt if there is a shot fired. It *s all a big bluff, sir ; 
 we 've got them frightened half to death. I wrote 
 Washington so a month ago." 
 
 I stood before him, stunned and bewildered by his 
 obstinacy. 
 
 " Am I to understand, General St. Clair, that you 
 question the accuracy of my report? " 
 
 " No, sir ! " his cheeks flushed. " Only, my young 
 friend, there is nothing to it. This expedition is not 
 interested in what Hamilton is doing on the Maumee. 
 He does n't dare attack us with his mongrel savages. 
 If he did we 'd give him a belly full, and a fine story to 
 send back to England. Come, gentlemen, let 's get to 
 more serious affairs. You may go, sir." 
 
 I passed out, dazed, unseeing. So this was the man 
 in whose hands rested the fate of the northwest. This 
 
 [406]
 
 Before St. Clair 
 
 was the end of my toil and suffering; this the reward 
 for Brady's death. He had sneered at me, turned me 
 away with a laugh. For a moment I stood shaking 
 from head to foot; then hot anger seized me, and 
 brought me back to life. By heaven ! he would learn 
 yet which of us was the fool. 
 
 14071
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 THE BATTLE ON THE WABASH 
 
 T TE had not even assigned me to service; simply 
 turned me adrift to go where I pleased. The 
 implied insult cut me to the quick, yet, now that I had 
 taken the measure of the man, I cared little enough for 
 his good opinion. Very well, I would choose my own 
 service then I would go back to Oldham and his 
 Kentucky militia. He was of fighting blood, if his face 
 spoke truth, and his command was stationed where they 
 would feel the first shock of attack whenever it came. 
 
 With mind made up, I strode down the line, past where 
 the artillery was parked, to the tent Masters had pointed 
 out as the officers' kitchen. It was looped up at the 
 sides, and a glance within revealed Mademoiselle perched 
 on a low bench, her eyes following the movements of a 
 woman of ample proportions who was bustling about a 
 camp stove. The girl had her chin in her hand, her 
 face hidden, the blanket still wrapped about her shoul- 
 ders, but the woman looked up from her work and saw 
 me. To my surprise I recognized her. 
 
 " Is it you, Mistress McCarthy ! " I exclaimed, glad 
 enough that it was. " How happens it you are here? " 
 
 [409]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 " Be ther wurst o' luck, Mister Hayward. It 's no 
 Injun foighter Oi am, but shure Major Butler would n't 
 consint ter lave me behind when he had to go. He sed 
 I was as fit ter die as iver he wus, an' he did n't propose 
 ter be starved fer the sake ov me." 
 
 "Butler?" 
 
 " Ther same, sorr ; Major Thomas Butler it wos. It 
 is ther lost year Oi 've bin cookin' fer him, iver since his 
 woife hed ther baby, sorr, an' he is a wee bit particular 
 whut he eats." 
 
 " Oh, I see ; you are here as cook. Where 's Dan ? " 
 
 " Back wid th' rigiment, sorr ; ol' St. Clair sent 'em 
 ter ther rear maybe a wake ago. It 's him, sorr, that 
 is n't afeerd o' Injuns." 
 
 " So I have discovered." I glanced at Rene, but she 
 was not looking at me. " Well, I 'm glad you are here, 
 Mistress McCarthy. I can trust you to look after this 
 girl." 
 
 " Yer shure kin, sorr. It 's ther best o' friends we 
 are already. Belike she wus French ? " 
 
 "Yes, but she speaks English well. Rene"." She 
 turned her face toward me, and rose to her feet. 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur." 
 
 " Mistress McCarthy here is an old acquaintance of 
 mine ; her husband was a sergeant in my company. She 
 will look after you until I come back." 
 
 [410]
 
 The Battle on the Wabash 
 
 ' Yes, Monsieur." 
 " You will stay here until I come ? " 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur." 
 
 It was maddening, yet I knew not what to do or say. 
 I stood a moment gazing into her face, but the long 
 lashes would not lift, and I turned away, with teeth 
 clinched to keep back the hot words, and left the tent, 
 never glancing back as I crunched my way through the 
 snow. 
 
 Oldham received me gladly, and about the fire that 
 night I told of my reception by St. Clair. 
 
 " Well, I warned yer, Hayward," the Colonel com- 
 mented, chuckling. " I know the bullet-headed old fool. 
 I reckon he '11 know more about Injuns in a day or two. 
 Told yer he had his scouts out, did he? Why, man, 
 there is n't one of 'em been ten miles from the column 
 since we began this march; isn't that so, Captain? 
 The old cock does n't know tonight what 's goin' on two 
 hundred yards ahead of his outposts." He got up, and 
 stretched out his arms. " And so, gentlemen, we march 
 for the Miami towns in the morning. Old Cock-a- 
 doodle-doo says so. I '11 wager a year's pay we never 
 get there. What ! no takers ? Well, I 'm going to 
 bed." 
 
 Why should I attempt to describe that drear battle 
 on the east fork of the Wabash? Many another has 
 
 [411]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 done it already, yet few tell the story as I remember it. 
 Still I saw but little flashes here and there, dim pic- 
 tures drawn in flame and obscured by smoke. Today, 
 as I look back, half wondering if it could be really I 
 who witnessed, there is little but confusion to recall " 
 wild yells, the crack of rifles, the roar of the big guns, 
 terrible figures, painted black and red, dancing before 
 us, the gleam of tomahawks, the dead forms at our feet, 
 the shrieks of the wounded, the faces ghastly with terror. 
 These are the sights and sounds that remain in memory, 
 haunting me even yet. 
 
 We were up at dawn, but for no purpose, so far as I 
 could see, unless it was to idle through a leisurely break- 
 fast. I had finished mine, and was smoking, cuddled 
 close to the fire, when the storm broke. Our outposts 
 could not have been a hundred yards in advance, or else 
 they ran without firing a shot, for the red devils burst 
 on us without slightest warning. I heard a hoarse shout 
 of alarm, then whoops and yells, such as would strike 
 terror to the bravest. I was on my feet, gripping my 
 gun in an instant. I saw Oldham leap forward, roaring 
 out an order then they came, pouring out of the 
 woods into the open, a mass of shrieking demons, half 
 obscured in smoke, their rifles spitting fire. The man 
 beside me went down in a heap; Oldham flung up his 
 arms and toppled over ; I saw men stare, then turn and 
 
 [412]
 
 The Battle on the Wabash 
 
 run, peering back over their shoulders with eyes full of 
 horror. I threw up ray rifle and fired; sprang back, 
 racing for a tree, loading as I ran. Men were every- 
 where, a frightened, screaming mob. I saw officers strike 
 them with their swords, cursing them as cowards. But 
 nothing could stop the panic ; they fought to get away, 
 they struck with clinched fists, they battered a path for 
 themselves with clubbed muskets; they became fiends 
 from terror, every semblance of men lost. God ! may I 
 never see such a sight again ! My hand trembles as I 
 write of it. 
 
 Into that terror-stricken, fleeing mob the naked war- 
 riors came, hacking with tomahawks, slashing with 
 knives, battering with clubbed guns. The snow was red 
 with blood, covered with dead bodies. It was massacre. 
 I know not how I got out of it, but I fought back from 
 tree to tree, firing as I halted, loading as I ran. There 
 were others with me, cool-headed fellows, and we held 
 the painted demons back until a hundred of us, or more, 
 gained the opening by the river, where the regulars and 
 artillery were. But the savage hordes, infuriated by 
 victory, drunk with slaughter, were at our very heels. 
 They lined the edge of the woods and poured in deadly 
 volleys. There was no sound now, no yelling only 
 the incessant rattle of firearms, as they crept from log 
 to log, and tree to tree, slowly drawing closer. They 
 
 [413]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 filed off to either side, and hemmed us in, the river alone 
 protecting our rear. Through the clouds of smoke we 
 caught glimpses of their flitting figures, distorted, hor- 
 rible, of faces striped black and red, of waving feathers, 
 and brandished arms. Never before, or since, have I 
 seen Indians fight as they did that day rushing to 
 the charge, leaping straight at us through the smoke, 
 and firing with deadly aim into our very faces. They 
 shot us down as hunters slaughter a herd of buffalo. 
 There was no rest, no cessation, no time in which to 
 breathe. Hidden beneath the smoke cloud, they leaped 
 upon us with the tomahawk. Only now and then did we 
 get glimpse of them, we scarcely knew what we were 
 firing at ; we stood and shot, closing up the ranks as men 
 fell, growing constantly less, pressed steadily back. 
 Suddenly, in an instant, without warning, dark faces 
 leaped into view through the haze, war-axes gleamed and 
 struck, and men toppled over into the snow. 
 
 Twice they took the guns, swarming forward with a 
 fierce rush that flung us back, and crushed the gunners 
 under foot. But they were in the open now, and we 
 could see; with bayonets and clubbed rifles we charged 
 home, driving them back to the woods. There they held 
 us, while from every hollow and grass patch, every tree 
 and fallen log, their rifles spat fire. The bands of my 
 gun flew off, and I picked up another ; I was out of pow- 
 
 [414 ]
 
 The Battle an the Wabash 
 
 der and ball and took them from a dead body. The dead 
 lay everywhere, alone, in heaps ; cries of the wounded 
 rose above the din. We charged over the bodies, 
 crunching them under foot, seeking to reach our invis- 
 ible foes. They would not stand, would not meet us. 
 Helpless, bleeding, dying, confused by many orders, we 
 fell back, yet still retained line, and fronted that blaz- 
 ing wood. Frightened, panic-stricken men were every- 
 where, running and shrieking in terror, seeking vainly 
 for some means of escape from the savage cordon. 
 Indians crept forward under the smoke to scalp and 
 mutilate the dead and dying. Horses from the artil- 
 lery and staff, breaking loose, charged wildly about, 
 trampling living and dead alike under their feet. Wom- 
 en, camp-followers, were wedged in the mob, their shrill 
 screams piercing the mad uproar. Only the regulars 
 stood intact, a thin blue line, with here and there among 
 them a few militiamen who kept their heads. About the 
 guns, not a dozen powder-grimed artillerymen remained. 
 Not an officer of the battery was left; not one of the 
 regulars unwounded. 
 
 I heard St. Clair storming up and down behind us, 
 swearing and shouting orders in his high, cracked voice, 
 yet took no time to glance toward him. The smoke 
 settled down upon us in a cloud ; we fought blindly, in 
 the dark, hardly certain but we stood alone. I was 
 
 [415]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 beside Butler when he was struck, and helped drag him 
 aside out of the rout. Then I saw St. Clair, and, as I 
 stopped a second, staring into his face to be sure of his 
 identity, an officer rushed up through the smoke cloud, 
 knocking me aside, everything forgotten but his urgent 
 message. 
 
 " General St. Clair," he cried, " we must get out of 
 here, sir. My men cannot stand five minutes longer. 
 If that line breaks it will cost every life. For God's 
 sake, let us go." 
 
 " Yes yes, Colonel Darke, but how is it to be accom- 
 plished, sir? See those fool cowards." 
 
 Darke swept his hand out to the south in sudden 
 gesture. 
 
 " There is only one way, sir there by the road. I 
 can hold the regulars steady ; they '11 cover the rear, 
 and give the others a chance. One fierce charge for- 
 ward with the bayonet will drive those devils back, and 
 open the way. May I try it, sir? " 
 
 " Ay, try it. Hold ! I '11 lead them myself. Here 
 Simmons, Cauley, lash those skulkers into the road 
 there, while we clear a path." 
 
 I sprang forward with the others in response to swift 
 orders. We made the woods and plunged into their 
 shadows. There was a fierce, mad struggle face to face, 
 bayonets and clubbed muskets, knives and tomahawks. 
 
 [416]
 
 The Battle on the Wabash 
 
 St. Clair, on an artillery horse, led the way. We swept 
 the front of the broad road clear, the impetuosity of our 
 reckless charge forcing the startled savages into full 
 retreat. Then we dropped to our knees, loading and 
 firing to hold the advantage. Behind us, into the open 
 road, surged the mob of panic-stricken men, fighting and 
 crowding, beginning their long race back to the Ohio. 
 It was a sickening sight, the white, ghastly faces, the 
 wounded limping along, the brutal acts of fear, and 
 over all the ceaseless cries and profanity. I caught 
 glimpses of women among the seething mass, hustled 
 and thrown under foot in the mad terror. The sight of 
 them brought back to me the remembrance of Rene. 
 Was she also crushed in that mob, fleeing for life? or 
 was she still in the cook tent, trembling as she stared out 
 helplessly on the stricken field? I turned and ran, 
 heedless of all else, plunging through the stream of 
 fugitives, plowing a passage with my bulk. I had done 
 my duty now I must save her ! 
 
 [417]
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE RETREAT 
 
 T HAD no faith I should find her there, but I fought 
 my way through to the tent. It had been knocked 
 half over, the camp stove overturned, the long bench 
 smashed into kindling wood. With sinking heart I 
 flung back the sagging canvas, and cast one glance 
 within. As heaven witnesses, she stood there, the blan- 
 ket still wrapped about her, her hands grasping a rifle, 
 her face turned toward me. Unconsciously her lips 
 gave utterance to a cry of relief, and her expression 
 changed. I sprang forward, eager, glad. 
 
 " Rene, you are here ! " I cried out. " Why did you 
 not go with the others ? Why did you stay ? " 
 
 " It was the word of Monsieur," she answered simply. 
 " Monsieur said stay till he come." 
 
 " Yes, yes, I know ; but I never thought of this ; never 
 dreamed of such a defeat. But there is no time to waste 
 in talk. There is nothing to do but run for it now. 
 Come, lass ! " 
 
 Before she realized what I was going to do, I had 
 flung away my rifle and seized her in my arms. She 
 was a light, slender thing, and I held her tight in the 
 
 [419]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 folds of the blanket, scarcely feeling her weight. She 
 made no effort to resist, yet her eyes bewildered, half- 
 frightened looked into my face. I gave them no 
 heed, my whole purpose concentrated on the one effort 
 to save her, to fight a passage through that mob of 
 frightened men. The spirit of panic had gripped me 
 also not for myself, but for her ! Here was my duty 
 now; not back yonder where those regulars yet stood 
 grimly in line, and died with their shoulders touching; 
 not where I had fought all day in the powder-cloud fac- 
 ing those forest demons but in the mob of fugitives, 
 battling and cursing for their lives. 
 
 I ran out, clasping her to me, and sprang into it, 
 battling my way through to the edge of the human 
 stream, where there was more room. I cared not who I 
 hit, or who I trampled under foot. I retained but one 
 object, one purpose to bear Mademoiselle safely out 
 of danger. Once I tripped and fell, but arose instantly, 
 shaking off those who stumbled over me. I put her 
 down now, gripping her with my left hand and leaving 
 my right free. I fought like a wild man, cool-headed 
 enough, yet realizing I could only win by reckless feroc- 
 ity. I was dealing with crazed men, and there was no 
 virtue in mercy. Foot by foot, yard by yard, we pressed 
 past; I cleared the way with heavy hand, with butting 
 shoulder. They gripped me, and I shook them off; 
 
 [420]
 
 they grasped at her, and I struck; they surged in, 
 blocking our passage, and I hurled them aside. At 
 last we were out of the crush, ahead where the way was 
 more open, the fugitives fewer. Again I seized her in 
 my arms, and ran. Here and there rifle smoke belched 
 from out the bushes. I saw men fall in their stride, and 
 lie motionless in the road. I leaped across dead bodies, 
 hearing the cries of terror behind and the ceaseless din 
 of firing. They were at it yet, those regulars; these 
 who shot at us as we raced by were scattered riflemen 
 hid in the thicket. It was a broad road, the snow 
 trampled flat by feet fleeing from death. Some instinct 
 kept me to the right, next to the river, for the shots came 
 from the other side. Others ran between us and those 
 dark woods, and many a one stopped a speeding bullet. 
 I heard their cries, their oaths, caught glimpses over my 
 shoulder of racing figures, of frightened faces and 
 streaming hair. The road was littered with guns 
 thrown away, with discarded blankets and powder horns. 
 I dared not look back, straining every muscle, staggering 
 forward over the ruts. The roar of guns behind grew 
 faint in the distance ; the spit of rifles from the thickets 
 ceased. Exhausted, breathless, reeling from fatigue, I 
 put her down, and, with arm about her, stood an instant 
 looking back. 
 
 They were coming, a dark mass bearing down upon 
 [421]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 us, but ahead of them, wild with terror, his harness flap- 
 ping at his heels, his head flung from side to side, 
 charged an artillery horse full tilt. In his mad terror 
 he saw and knew nothing; he came straight at us, run- 
 ning as if crazed. I flung the girl into the side of the 
 road and leaped recklessly for his head. My hand 
 gripped the mane, then the leather rein; I was flung 
 from my feet, jerked into the air, but hung; my moc- 
 casins touched ground again. I was dragged forward, 
 rendered half unconscious by a blow, but weight told. I 
 got fingers on his nostrils, and he stood still, panting 
 and trembling. Clinging to him, warned by shouts to 
 hurry, I stripped the harness and hoisted her onto the 
 bare back. Even as this was accomplished the head of 
 that shrieking mob was on us ; one brute grabbed her by 
 the arm seeking to pull her down, and I struck him with 
 all the force I had. Then I ran forward, clasping the 
 horse by the bit, crunching our way, heedless of who 
 opposed or blocked our passage. And they made way 
 for us ; even in their blind terror, they swept aside to 
 escape being trampled under the animal's hoofs, and 
 left before us a clear path. 
 
 As I ran I thought, striving to clear my mind, to 
 drive away the fog of panic, and overcome the fears 
 which thus far had compelled action. What should we 
 do now? What was best to do? I could still hear
 
 The Retreat 
 
 distant firing, but no longer in volleys, and far off 
 Indian whoops borne on the wind. How had the fight 
 ended? were the regulars still holding the rear? still 
 protecting the escape of the rabble? or had the savages 
 rallied, and overwhelmed them? I had no means of 
 knowing; all about us were fugitives, running blindly, 
 many of them crying like children. I looked up at 
 Rene. She was clinging to the horse's mane with one 
 hand to keep her seat on the broad back, the other clasp- 
 ing the blanket, which streamed out behind. Her black 
 hair, jarred loose from its fastening, hid her face, and 
 hung below her waist. This would be the road they 
 would all take, this broad path to the Ohio; it would 
 be crowded with unarmed, desperate, terrorized fugi- 
 tives. There would be no discipline, no semblance of 
 order, no organized defense against attack. And the 
 Indians would follow ; they would elude that weak rear- 
 guard, race through those woods, and fall on these help- 
 less fugitives. Doubtless even already they were in 
 pursuit. There would be greater safety traveling alone, 
 the other way, following the course of the river straight 
 through the forest. 
 
 I looked eagerly for some place in which to turn aside, 
 saw the faint trace of an Indian trail, seemingly leading 
 down the bank of the stream, and, with instant decision, 
 turned into it. I walked the horse now, and Rene" sat 
 
 [423]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 up straight, and fastened her disarranged hair. The 
 narrow trail led through dense thickets and about a 
 slight hill; in five minutes we were out of sight of the 
 road, alone in the wilderness. To the right through 
 trees was the glimmer of the river. The horse panted 
 heavily, and the way was rough. There was blood I 
 noticed now, on his flank, and he limped slightly as he 
 walked. I staggered and reeled from weariness, feeling 
 reaction from excitement, yet kept grimly on until we 
 must have covered two miles, wandering in and out 
 among the low hills. No sounds reached us, and as we 
 came into a narrow ravine, promising concealment, I 
 released my grasp on the bit, and staggered back against 
 the bank. Mademoiselle slipped from her seat and 
 hastened to me. 
 
 " You are worn out, Monsieur? wounded? " 
 
 " Worn out, yes, but nothing has touched me save a 
 blow or two. I I think we can rest now." 
 
 Then it occurred to me, a thought that had swept into 
 my mind once before we had no provisions, no chance 
 to get away and we dare not shoot, nor build a fire. 
 
 " What is it, Monsieur? " 
 
 " Why, we have nothing to eat, Rene," I admitted 
 reluctantly. "It is a long journey to the Ohio, and 
 how are we going to keep from starving? Faith ! but I 
 am near that now." 
 
 [424]
 
 The Retreat 
 
 She stood before me, slender, erect, the blanket draped 
 about her, her eyes lowered. 
 
 " It was mine to remember, Monsieur," she said sim- 
 ply, as if it was all the most ordinary thing in the world. 
 " I knew not what would happen, and there was food 
 there. When the women ran away, and I would not 
 go, because you told me not, I knew it would be best that 
 I take some. You do not blame, Monsieur? " 
 
 "Blame! you are a jewel; but I see nothing of it! 
 Where " 
 
 " 'T is here, Monsieur ; I am glad if I please you." 
 
 She flung aside the blanket, dropping it to the ground, 
 revealing a black ammunition bag strapped across her 
 shoulder. I remembered now feeling it when I held her 
 in my arms, vaguely wondering what it was. She 
 unclasped and opened it. 
 
 " Monsieur must eat," she said gravely, " and sleep. 
 Then he will be strong again." 
 
 I tried to do as she said, munching a few mouthfuls. 
 Her actions, her words, her manner toward me, both 
 bewildered and angered. She had assumed the part of 
 a servant chosen it, as if she would thus teach me my 
 own place. In every possible way she showed me she 
 was not there from choice, but necessity. I lay back, 
 toying with the food, my appetite gone. The wounded 
 horse had been down to the river and drank ; now he was 
 
 [425]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 pawing the snow in an effort to discover feed. Over in 
 the east, but some distance off, a rifle cracked ominously 
 in the silence. My head fell back against the bank, and 
 I was sound asleep. 
 
 It was two days later when we toiled up a long hill, 
 and came out upon the summit. I no longer needed to 
 lead the horse, and was plodding along wearily behind. 
 Much of the snow had melted, leaving the soil soft, and 
 the trees appeared bare, phantom-like, against the sky. 
 Rene rode silently, wrapped in her blanket, for the air 
 was chill and damp, her head bent, her eyes straight 
 ahead. I have no remembrance that we had spoken for 
 an hour. Beyond the hill summit there was an escarp- 
 ment of rock, giving an open view ahead. As I gazed 
 off, over the trees below, my heart gave a great bound 
 there, scarce a mile away, flowing between leagues of for- 
 est, was the broad Ohio, its waters silvery in the sun. I 
 turned to her and pointed. 
 
 " At last, Rene," I cried, forgetting. " We are safe 
 now ; see ! There is the river." 
 
 She lifted her eyes and looked. 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur." 
 
 " Why do you ever speak to me in that tone ? You 
 answer me always as if you were my servant." 
 
 " Your servant ! " she was looking at me now. " Am 
 I not, Monsieur? " 
 
 [426]
 
 The Retreat 
 
 " Of course you are not. You are free ; whatever put 
 that in your head? I haven't known what to think, 
 what to do since we have been together. Back on the 
 Maumee I I thought you loved me." 
 
 " I do love you, Monsieur." 
 
 " You you love me," I stammered. " And yet bear 
 yourself as you do? " 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur; how else could I do? You are 
 white ; I am an Indian." 
 
 "Is that all! You think that makes it different? 
 Rene, I love you ; out yonder is my home ; I would take 
 you there ; I would say to those who know me here 
 is my wife." 
 
 " Your your wife ! " There was doubt, question- 
 ing in her eyes. 
 
 " Yes, of course ; how could you think otherwise." 
 
 " Oh, Monsieur, how could I know ? how could I 
 believe? I was an Indian girl, a Wyandot. It is not 
 so the white men come to our villages. I have seen 
 them the red-coats, the traders of France. They 
 take with the strong hand, and then laugh, and go 
 away. Monsieur, you did not tell me. You swung Girty 
 about your head in rage and flung him irom you into 
 the river ; you killed the big Shawnee chief with a blow. 
 You you were terrible, Monsieur ; even I was afraid. 
 Then you came and grasped me, and said get into the 
 [427]
 
 The Maid of the Forest 
 
 canoe. I tried to not go, but you said yes, I must. You 
 did not ask me, Monsieur you spoke stern, angry. I 
 was frightened, I dare not say no, so I did as you said 
 I was your prisoner ; you had taken me as the war- 
 riors of the Wyandots take the maidens of the Ojibwas." 
 
 " Then if that was so, why did you not leave me 
 that night the Indians passed us in camp? " 
 
 Her cheeks flamed. 
 
 "I I could not, Monsieur I loved you." 
 
 " And now ? now you will go with me down there 
 a prisoner no longer, but my own ? " 
 
 " Always and forever ? " 
 
 " Always and forever," I answered gravely. 
 
 There was something new, wonderful in the depths of 
 the dark eyes that looked into mine. I saw her hands 
 clasp the white cross at her throat, then they were held 
 out to me. 
 
 " I am so glad, Monsieur," she said softly, " so 
 glad!" 
 
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 Cry in the Wilderness, A MaryE. Waller 
 
 Dark Hollow, The Anna Katharine Green 
 
 Day of Days, The Louis Joseph Vance 
 
 Depot Master, The Joseph C. Lincoln 
 
 Derelicts William J. Locke 
 
 Desired Woman, The Will N. Harben 
 
 Destroying Angel, The Louis Joseph Vance 
 
 Divine Fire, The May Sinclair 
 
 Dixie Hart Will N. Harben 
 
 Dominant Dollar, The Will Lillibridge 
 
 Dr. David Marjorie Benton Cooke 
 
 Enchanted Hat, The Harold MacGrath 
 
 Excuse Me Rupert Hughet 
 
 54-40 or Fight Emerson Hough 
 
 Fighting Chance, The Robert W. Chambers 
 
 Financier, The Theodore Dreiser 
 
 Flamsted Quarries Mary E. Waller 
 
 For a Maiden Brave Chauncey C. Hotchkiss 
 
 Four Million, The 0. Henry 
 
 From the Car Behind Eleanor M. Ingraham 
 
 Fruitful Vine, The Robert Hichens 
 
 Gentleman of France, A Stanley Weyman 
 
 Get-Rich-Quick-Wallingford. George Randolph Chester 
 
 Gilbert Neal Will N. Harben 
 
 Girl From Hia Town, The Marie Van Vorst 
 
 Glory of Clementina, The WilKam J. Lockt 
 
 Glory of the Conquered, The Susan GlaspeU
 
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 God's Good Man Marie CorelK 
 
 Going Some Rex Beach 
 
 Gordon Craig Randall Parritk 
 
 Greyfriars Bobby Eleanor Atlcinton 
 
 Guests of Hercules, The ..C.N.andA. M. Williamson 
 
 Halcyone Elinor Glyn 
 
 Happy Island (Sequel to Uncle William) Jennette Lee 
 
 Havoc B. PhiUipt Oppenhcim 
 
 Heart of the Hills, The John Fox, Jr. 
 
 Heart of the Desert, The Honore Willtie 
 
 Heather-Moon, The C. N. and A. M. Williamson 
 
 Her Weight in Gold George Ban McCuteheon 
 
 Herb of Grace Rosa N. Carey 
 
 Highway of Fate, The Rota N. Carey 
 
 Homesteaders, The Kate and Virgil D. Boylet 
 
 Hopalong Cassidy Clarence E. Mul/ord 
 
 Honor of the Big Snows, The. .Jamet Oliver Curwood 
 
 House of Happiness, The Kate Langley Bother 
 
 House of the Lost Court, The C. N. Williamson 
 
 House of the Whispering Pines, The . . Anna K. Green 
 
 Household of Peter, The Rosa N. Carey 
 
 Hugh Wynne, Free Quaker. . .S. Weir Mitchell, M.D. 
 
 Husbands of Edith, The George Ban McCuteheon 
 
 Idols William J. Locke 
 
 Illustrious Prince, The E. Phillips Oppenheim 
 
 Imposter, The John Reed Scott 
 
 In Defiance of the King Chauncey C. Holchkist 
 
 Indifference of Juliet, The Grace S. Richmond 
 
 Inez (Illustrated Edition) Augusta J. Evant 
 
 Infelioe Augusta Evans Wilson 
 
 Initials Only Anna Katharine Green 
 
 Iron Trail, The Rex Beach 
 
 Iron Woman, The Margaret Deland 
 
 Ishmael (Illustrated) . . .Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth 
 Island of Regeneration, The. .Cyrus Townsend Brady 
 
 Japonette Robert W. Chambers 
 
 Jane Cable George Ban McCuteheon 
 
 Jeanne of the Marshes E. Phillips Oppenheim 
 
 Jennie Gerhardt Theodore Dreiser 
 
 Joyful Heatherby Payne Erskine 
 
 Judgment House, The Sir Gilbert Parker
 
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 Keith of the Border Randall Parrish 
 
 Key to the Unknown, The Rosa N. Carey 
 
 King Spruce Holman Day 
 
 Knave c ; Diamonds, The Ethel M. DM 
 
 Lady and the Pirate, The Emerson Hough 
 
 Lady Betty Across the Water. 
 
 C. N. and A. M. Williamson 
 
 Land of Long Ago, The Eliza Cahert Hall 
 
 Langford of the Three Bars .Kate and Virgil D. Boyle* 
 
 Last Trail, The Zane Grey 
 
 Last Voyage of the Donna Isabel,The Randall Parrish 
 
 Leavenworth Case, The Anna Katherine Green 
 
 Life Mask, The Author of " To M. L. G." 
 
 Lighted Way, The E. Phillips Oppenheim 
 
 Lin McLean Owen Wister 
 
 Little Brown Jug at Kildare, The . Meredith Nicholson 
 
 Lonesome Land B. M . Bover 
 
 Lord Loveland Discovers America. 
 
 C. N. and A. M. Williamson 
 
 Lorimer of the Northwest Harold Bindlost 
 
 Lorraine .Robert W. Chamber* 
 
 Lost Ambassador, The E. Phillips Oppenheim 
 
 Love Under Fire Randall Parrish 
 
 Macaria (Illustrated Edition) Augusta J. Evan* 
 
 Maid at Arms, The Robert W. Chamber* 
 
 Maid of Old New York, A Amelia E. Ban 
 
 Maids of Paradise, The Robert W. Chamber* 
 
 Maid of the Whispering Hills, The. ... Vingie E. Roe 
 
 Maid of the Forest, The Randall Parrish 
 
 Making of Bobby Burnt, The. .Geo. Randolph Chester 
 
 Mam' Linda Witt N. Harben 
 
 Marriage H. G. WeUt 
 
 Marriage a la Mode Mrs. Humphrey Ward 
 
 Master Mummer, The E. Phillips Oppenheim 
 
 Masters of the Wheatlands Harold Bindlost 
 
 Max Katherine Cecil Thurston 
 
 Mediator, The Roy Norton 
 
 Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes A. Conan Doyle 
 
 Missioner, The E. Phillips Oppenheim 
 
 Miss Gibbie Gault K ate Langley Boshcr 
 
 l
 
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 Miss Philura's Wedding Gown. 
 
 Florence Morte Kingsley 
 
 Miss Selina Lue Maria Thompson Dana* 
 
 Mollie's Prince Rota N. Carey 
 
 Molly McDonald Randall Parrith 
 
 Money Moon, The Jeffery Farnol 
 
 Motor Maid, The C. N. and A. M. Williamm 
 
 Moth, The William Dana Orcuit 
 
 Mountain Girl, The. Payne Ertkine 
 
 Mr. Pratt Joseph C. Lincoln 
 
 Mr. Pratt's Patients Joseph C. Lincoln 
 
 Mrs. Red Pepper Grace S. Richmond 
 
 My Friend the Chauffeur . C JV. and A. M. Williamson 
 
 My Lady Caprice Jeffery Farnol 
 
 My Lady of Doubt Randall Parrish 
 
 My Lady of the North Randall Parrish 
 
 My Lady of the South Randall Parrish 
 
 Mystery Tales Edgar AUen Poe 
 
 Mystery of the Boule Cabinet, The. 
 
 Burton E. Stevenson 
 
 Nancy Stair Elinor Macartney Lane 
 
 Ne'er-Do-Well, The Rex Beach 
 
 Net, The Rex Beach 
 
 NightRiders, The RidgwcllCullum 
 
 No Friend Like a Sister Rosa N. Carey 
 
 Officer 666 .. Barton W. Currie and Augustin McHugh 
 
 Once Upon a Time Richard Harding Davit 
 
 One Braver Thing Richard Dehan 
 
 One Way Trail, The Ridgwell Cullum 
 
 Orphan, The Clarence E. Mulford 
 
 Out of the Primitive Robert Ames Bennel 
 
 Pam Bettina Von HuOen 
 
 Pam Decides Bettina Von Hutten 
 
 Pardners. Rex Beach 
 
 Parrot A Co Harold McGrath 
 
 Partners of the Tide Joseph C. Lincoln 
 
 Passage Perilous, The Rosa N. Carey 
 
 Passionate Friends, The H. G. Wells 
 
 Paul Anthony, Christian Hiram W. Hays 
 
 Peter Ruff E. Phittips Oppenheim 
 
 Phillip Steele James Oliver Cvrwood
 
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 Phra the Phoenician Edwn Lester Arnold 
 
 Pidgin Island Harold MacGrath 
 
 Place of Honeymoons, The Harold MacGraih 
 
 Pleasures and Palaces Juliet Wilbor Tompkins 
 
 Plunderer, The Roy Norton 
 
 Pole Baker WittN. Harben 
 
 Pool of Flame, The Louis Joseph Vance 
 
 Polly of the Circus Margaret Mayo 
 
 Poppy Cynthia Stockley 
 
 Port of Adventure, The. .C. N. and A. M. Williamson 
 
 Postmaster, The Joseph C. Lincoln 
 
 Power and the Glory, The. . .Grace McGowan Cooke 
 
 Price of the Prairie, The Margaret Hitt McCarter 
 
 Prince of Sinners, A E. Phillips Oppenheim 
 
 Prince or Chauffeur Lawrence Perry 
 
 Princess Passes, The C. N. and A. M. Williamson 
 Princess Virginia, The. .C. N. and A M. Williamson 
 
 Prisoners of Chance Randall Parrish 
 
 ProdigalSon, The HallCaine 
 
 Purple Parasol, The George Ban McCutcheon 
 
 R. J.'s Mother Margaret Deland 
 
 Ranching for Sylvia Harold Bindlou 
 
 Reason Why, The Elinor Glyn 
 
 Redemption of Kenneth Gait, The. .Will N. Harben 
 
 Red Cross Girl, The Richard Harding Davis 
 
 Red Lane, The HolmanDay 
 
 Red Pepper Burns Grace S. Richmond 
 
 Red Republic, The Robert W. Chambers 
 
 Refugees, The A. Conan Doyle 
 
 Rejuvenation of Aunt Mary, The Anne Warner 
 
 Rise of Roscoe Paine, The Joseph C. Lincoln 
 
 Road to Providence, The. . .Maria Thompson Daviess 
 
 Robinetta Kate Douglas Wiggin 
 
 Rose in the Ring, The George Barr McCutcheon 
 
 Rose of the World Agnes and Egerton Cattle 
 
 Rose of Old Harpeth, The. .Maria Thompson Davieu 
 Round the Corner in Gay Street . . . Grace S. Richmond 
 
 Routledge Rides Alone Will Levington Comfort 
 
 Rue: With a Difference Rosa N. Carey 
 
 St. Elmo (Illustrated Edition) Augusta J. Evant 
 
 Seata of the Mighty, The Gilbert Parker
 
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 Second Violin, Th Grace S. Richmond 
 
 Self-Raised (Illustrated) .Mrs. E. D .E. N. Southworth 
 
 Septimus William J. Locke 
 
 Set in Silver C.N.andA.M. Williamson 
 
 Sharrow BeUina Von Hutten 
 
 Shepherd of the Hills, The Harold Bell Wright 
 
 Sheriff of Dyke Hole, The RidgweU Cullun 
 
 Ship's Company W. W. Jacob* 
 
 Sidney Carterot, Rancher Harold Bindlou 
 
 Sign at Six, The Sieioart Edward White 
 
 Silver Horde, The RexBeach 
 
 Simon the Jester William J. Lock* 
 
 Sir Nigel A. Canon Doyle 
 
 Sir Richard Calmady Lucas Mold 
 
 Sixty-First Second, The Owen Johnson 
 
 Slim Princess, The George Ade 
 
 Speckled Bird, A Augutia Evans Wilton 
 
 Spirit in Prison, A Robert Hichens 
 
 Spirit of the Border, The Zone Grey 
 
 Spoilers, The Rex Beach 
 
 Strawberry Acres Grace S. Richmond 
 
 Strawberry Handkerchief, The Amelia E. Ban 
 
 Streets of Ascalon, The Robert W. Chamben 
 
 Sunny side of the Hill, The Rosa N. Carey 
 
 Sunset Trail, The Alfred Henry Lev/it 
 
 Susan Clegg and Her Friend Mrs. Lathrop. 
 
 Anne Warner 
 
 Sword of the Old Frontier, A Randall Parrisk 
 
 Tales of Sherlock Holmes A. Conan Doyle 
 
 Tarzan of the Apes Edgar Rice Burroughs 
 
 Taste of Apples, The Jennette Lee 
 
 Tennessee Shad, The Owen Johnson 
 
 Teas of the D'Urbervilles Thomas Hardy 
 
 Texican, The Dane Coolidge 
 
 That Affair Next Door, Anna Katharine Green 
 
 That Printer of Udell's Harold Bell Wright 
 
 Their Yesterdays Harold Bell Wright 
 
 Throwback, The Alfred Henry Lewis 
 
 Thurston of Orchard Valley Harold Blindlott 
 
 To M. L. G.; Or, He Who Passed Anonymous 
 
 To Him That Hath Leroy Scat
 
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 Torn Sails Alien Raine 
 
 Trail of the Axe, The Ridgwell Outturn. 
 
 Trail to Yesterday, The Charks Alden Seltzer 
 
 Treasure of Heaven, The Marie Corelli 
 
 Truth Dexter Sidney McCdl 
 
 T. Tembarom Frances Hodgson Burnett 
 
 Turnstile, The A.E.W. Mason 
 
 Two-Gun Man, The Charkt Alden Seltzer 
 
 Uncle William Jenneile Lee 
 
 Under the Red Robe Stanley J. Weyman 
 
 Up From Slavery Booker T. Washington 
 
 Valiants of Virginia, The Hallie Erminie Rivet 
 
 Vanity Box, The C. N. Williamson 
 
 Vane of the Timberlands Harold Blindloss 
 
 Varmint, The Owen Johnson 
 
 Vashti Augusta Evans Wilton 
 
 Wall of Men, A Margaret Hill McCarter 
 
 Watchers of the Plains, The Ridgwell Cullum 
 
 Way Home, The Basil King 
 
 Way of An Eagle, The E, M. Dell 
 
 Weavers, The Gilbert Parker 
 
 West Wind, The Cyrut Townsend Brady 
 
 Wheel of Life, The Ellen Glasgow 
 
 When Wilderness Was King Randall Parrisk 
 
 Where the Trail Divides Will Lillibridge 
 
 Where There's A Will Mary Roberts Rinehart 
 
 White Sister, The Marion Crawford 
 
 Wind Before the Dawn, The Dell H. Munger 
 
 Window at the White Cat, The. 
 
 Mary Roberts Rinehart 
 Winning of Barbara Worth, The. .Harold Bell Wright 
 
 With Juliet in England Grace S. Richmond 
 
 With the Best Intentions Bruno Letting 
 
 Woman in the Alcove, The. . .AnnaKathcrine Green 
 
 Woman Haters, The Joseph C. Lincoln 
 
 Woodcarver of 'Lympus, The Mary E. Waller 
 
 Woodfire in No. 3, The F. Hopkinson Smitk 
 
 Wrecker, The Robert Louis Stevenson 
 
 Younger Set, The Robert W. Chamber* 
 
 You Never Know Your Luck . . , . . Gilbert Parker
 

 
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