CHAPTER XLII.

On that part of Lake Champlain, or Corlear, as it was called by the Indians, where, quitting the narrow basin which it occupies, from its southern extremity to some distance northward of Ticonderoga, it opens out into a broader sheet of water, and sweeps round the small peninsula of Crown Point, a large canoe was seen crossing to the Canada side, with about sixteen or seventeen persons on board. There was no attempt at concealment, no creeping along under the shelter of the banks; but boldly and openly the Indians paddled on within range of the guns of the French fort, and then directly across the bows of two large, flat-bottomed boats, or _bateaux_, accompanied by several light canoes, each containing six or seven men, which were going down the lake in the direction of Ticonderoga.

From each of the larger boats, the flag of France was conspicuously displayed; but, as the canoe above mentioned seemed bearing straight for the shore fully in possession of France, its movements for a time appeared to excite no attention. Neither the _bateaux_, nor the canoes, altered their course, the men on board the former continuing a shouted conversation in a mixed jargon, part French, part Indian, with their dusky companions in the lesser craft, who kept as nearly alongside as possible.

At length, however, it would seem some suspicion was excited. Perhaps it might have been by the sight of two figures, male and female, in the stern of the canoe, whose dress at once showed them to belong to none of the Indian tribes, and was also somewhat different from that of either the Canadian colonists, or the native French. The two parties were now within less than a hundred yards of each other, and it seemed doubtful whether the large canoes would clear the eastern boat without trouble. But suddenly a voice was raised loudly in the foremost _bateau_, and a question was put in French, as to whither the others were bound, and who they were.

The Indians were silent, for they did not understand the words addressed to them; but Woodchuck whispered to Edith, eagerly, "Answer, answer! if you can speak their jargon. Better be in the hands of French officers, than these incarnate devils."

Edith's eyes had been cast down, and were so full of bitter tears, that she had seen nothing since they left the western shore. But now she looked up, and, in an instant, her presence of mind returned. It is true, she did not speak at once, for she feared her voice would not reach the boat; but it was nearing the canoe fast; and, in a moment after, the question was repeated in a more peremptory and distinct tone.

"Tell them we are allies of the great French chief," said Apukwa, who seemed to comprehend, in some degree, the meaning of the call; "say we are going to join our Canada Father." And he glared at her, fiercely, as he spoke.

"We are English," exclaimed Edith, exerting her utmost power of voice; "we are English, and Iroquois, going I know not whither."

Instantly, at a signal from the _bateaux_, the light canoes dashed out with extraordinary rapidity; and, before any effectual effort could be made to escape, the larger canoe was surrounded, while the yells of the Hurons announced that they recognized, at length, a band of ancient enemies. With a fiend-like look at Edith, Apukwa drew his tomahawk from his belt; but, the brother of the Snake spoke some words to him in a low tone, the weapon was replaced, the men ceased to work the paddles, and every face assumed the stillness of perfect indifference.

The yells and whoops of the Hurons still continued, and their canoes came rushing nearer, so that one danger seemed only to be escaped to encounter a still greater. Their fierce faces, and dark, half-naked forms, tattooed and painted, were seen all round, and the tomahawk and the knife were brandished as if for immediate action. But one of the larger boats bore right down amongst them, and soon grappled the canoe in which Edith and her companion were. A handsomely-dressed middle-aged man stood up in the stern as it came near, and, turning to an Indian by his side, who seemed a chief, said to him in French--

"Keep your people quiet, Great Elk."

A few words were then spoken, or rather shouted, by the Indian to the others in the canoes, in a language which Edith did not at all understand, and in an instant every Huron sank down in silence, and the light skiffs lay quietly upon the water, or only moved slightly with the momentum they had already received from the paddles. Then, raising his hat and plume with an air of much grace, the French officer addressed Edith, saying--

"Will you have the goodness to explain to me, mademoiselle, who and what you are, and how you came to be in the position in which I find you? I am sorry to be obliged to detain a lady, but you have too many men with you for me to suffer your canoe to pass."

"I am the daughter of an English gentleman," replied Edith. "I have been attacked and captured, with the friend who was escorting me from my father's house to that of Colonel Schneider; my two servants were murdered--at least, one of them I am sure was. These Indians, who are with me, are Iroquois, who are taking me forcibly across the lake towards Canada, and I have little doubt that I shall be put to death also, if you do not save me from their hands."

"This is a strange story, mademoiselle," returned the officer. "The Iroquois and your countrymen are in alliance."

"I cannot account for it," answered Edith; "they are certainly Iroquois, for they speak no other language, except a few words of English. You must ask them what is the meaning of their conduct, if you have any on board who can speak their tongue."

The officer turned once more to his Indian companion, and addressed some words to him in French; but the chief shook his head, and then, drawing his eyelids together, as if to see more distinctly, gazed into the canoe, scanning the persons of the Indians closely.

"They are Iroquois," he said, at length, in broken French; "let us scalp them."

This proposal, however, the officer did not think fit to comply with, at least for the time; and he replied with a laugh,--

"Wait a little, my friend. The Great Elk shall have scalping enough soon. We will take them ashore with us, at all events, and, perhaps, may learn more. Then, if they are really enemies, you shall exercise your skill upon them to your heart's content. The lady and her English companion, however, I claim as my prisoners.--Permit me, mademoiselle, to assist you into the boat. You will be safer here, and may trust to the honour and courtesy of a French gentleman."

"I have no fears on that score, sir," answered Edith, rising; and, with the aid of the officer and Woodchuck, she passed into the other boat, which, flat-bottomed and heavily laden, was not much higher above the water than the canoe. Woodchuck followed her closely, but not without exciting the wrath of the Honontkoh. They had sat, ever since the canoe had been grappled by the boat, with the utmost tranquillity; not a limb, not a feature had moved; and to the eye of an observer, ignorant of their habits, they would have seemed perfectly indifferent to all that was taking place. In fact, one of them appeared actually going to sleep; for the sun, which had now broken out after the storm, shone full on his face, and his eyes were closed, and his head bent. But the moment that Woodchuck put his foot over the side of the _bateau_, a yell of disappointed rage burst from every lip; and, unable to contain himself, Apukwa rose and poured forth a few words of Huron, mixed with a good deal of Iroquois.

"Hold your tongues!" exclaimed the French officer, waving his hand imperiously. "Tow them along behind us; and you, Great Elk, command your people to keep close around them, and see that they do not cut the rope, and slip away."

The orders were given as he directed, and the arrangements made; but when all was completed, and the boat was once more moving along the lake, the Indian by his side pulled the officer's sleeve, thus interrupting a speech he had just begun with a gallant air to Edith, and seemed to explain something to him in a low tone.

"Well, we shall soon find out," said the Frenchman, with a gay laugh. "If they be Iroquois, who are about to become Hurons, and take service under his Majesty, we will make them fight for us while we are going. We shall not have too many hands to help us, Great Elk, and they'll make a good reinforcement to your party. As for the lady and her attendant, I will take care of them." Then turning to Edith, with a courteous smile, he spread his _roquelaure_ in a more convenient part of the boat, and assisted her to seat herself more comfortably, saying--"Mademoiselle is a great deal too charming to travel any more with such savages. But may I know the name of this gentleman? Can he not speak French?"

"Not a word, I believe," replied Edith.

"That is singular!" exclaimed the Frenchman, giving expression to the general feeling of his nation, who seem to believe that the French language is one of those blessings of God which it is strange that he should deny to any of his creatures. "What is his name?"

It instantly passed through the mind of Edith that, if she gave her good companion the name of Captain Brooks, she would be certain to cause his detention as a prisoner of war; and she therefore merely replied--"He is called Woodchuck."

"Voodchick!" exclaimed the Frenchman; "_quel drôle de nom!_ Is Monsieur Voodchick in the army?"

To the question thus put, Edith could fairly answer in the negative; for Brooks, though he had seen no little fighting in his day, was merely one of those amateur soldiers, then very common in the provinces, who rarely missed an opportunity of joining some band of volunteers in times of war with France, or fighting upon their own hand, according to the Scotchman's expression, as one of the extensive class called Stragglers. They generally bore away from the field, especially if they distinguished themselves, some military title, such as captain or major, without having commanded half-a-dozen men in their lives.

After having asked his questions and settled his conduct, the French officer's next business was, of course, _politesse_; and he would fain have engaged his lovely companion in gay and lively conversation during the rest of their little voyage; but Edith, though her mind was greatly relieved to find herself freed from the power of the Honontkoh, had many a subject of melancholy contemplation to occupy her. The dark and dreary consideration of her brother's fate--the uncertainty of what might befall her father and her lover--the separation from all most dear to her--the doubt, even now, whether she might not herself be detained a prisoner amongst strangers--all these reflections tormented her beyond endurance. Moreover, the war in America had hitherto been conducted by the French upon principles the most barbarous, and the most opposed to the ordinary characteristics of that nation. The scene which succeeded the capture of Fort William-Henry was a black and damning spot, never to be obliterated from the minds of men; and although it has been put forth by an American author as the only stain upon the character of Montcalm, Mr. Cooper must surely have forgotten the violated capitulation of Oswego, the death of the gallant De la Court, and the scalping and massacre of the sick in the hospital. All that we can trust is, that these barbarities were only permitted, not encouraged. But how can we account for or excuse--how can we even palliate--the voluntary delivery of twenty of the garrison into the hands of the savages, to be tortured to death under the very eyes of the French soldiery, in direct violation of the articles of capitulation, as compensation for the loss of twenty Indians? It is a fact which has never been denied, or it would be too horrible for belief.

Edith replied briefly, therefore, to the compliments and pretty speeches of her military companion; and in the meanwhile the boat proceeded rapidly over the surface of the lake, passed Crown Point, and entered the narrow portion of Champlain, which stretches from that promontory towards the spot where the Sounding Waters, as the Indians called the outlet of Lake George, flow into the greater lake near Ticonderoga.

The French officer, somewhat baffled in his attempts to make her speak, tried his fortune with Woodchuck, but with still less success; for, to everything he said in French, he received what can hardly be called an answer in English, and generally, it must be said, not a very civil speech, as Brooks was filled with all the absurd prejudices of his country, and never uttered the word "Frenchman," without coupling it with the epithet "rascally."

The voyage was brought to a close before night fell, for the boat stopped short by a mile or two of Ticonderoga, and somewhat further to the north of the spot where the ferry now exists. The scene would have appeared beautiful had Edith's mind been free to enjoy it; for in front were seen the tops of the several bold eminences round the French fort. On the one side were those rich lands, varied at that time with scattered masses of forest, though now highly cultivated, known as the New Hampshire grants; and, to the westward, a varied country, rising gradually to the foot of the Mohigan mountains.

The spot chosen for the landing was a secluded cove in the woods, where the shelving rocks broke through the soil, and dipped gradually into the water. Boats and canoes were all speedily hauled up, and the commander of the party, with delicate attention, handed Edith out, and then gave orders to his men to follow him, which was effected with rapidity and precision. The savages, under the orders of their chief, took care of the Iroquois prisoners, and apparently, by no slight act of forbearance, resisted the great temptation to possess themselves of their scalps.

When all had disembarked, the canoes were drawn safely up under concealment of the bushes on either side, and the voyageurs pushed off, and took their way up the lake again.

"I fear, mademoiselle," said the captain of the Frenchmen, who might have amounted in number to sixty or seventy, "I must trouble you to take a somewhat fatiguing promenade of four or five miles--at least, I am told that such is the distance, for I have never been here myself, and do not know the way."

"Then are we not going to Fort Ticonderoga?" asked Edith.

"Not so," replied the officer; "we are going a little beyond, and I shall have no opportunity of detaching any party whom I could trust to send you into the fort to-night. The Indians, indeed, could be spared--at least, a sufficient number to escort you--but I should really be apprehensive, from what I know of their habits, that you might not be quite so safe in their charge as under the protection of my musketeers, with your devoted servant at their head. We will endeavour to make you as comfortable as we can for the night; and I doubt not that, early to-morrow, I shall be visited by some superior officer, who will have the honour of conveying you to the fort."

"Then am I to consider myself as a prisoner?" asked Edith, in a cold tone. "I did not know that it was the habit of French officers to make women captives."

"So," replied the Frenchman, with a graceful bow; "we ourselves are much more frequently _their_ captives; but, my dear lady, within the limits of this garrison I myself have no command--am merely acting under orders, and feel myself imperatively bound to send you and your companion, Monsieur Voodchick, to the commandant of the fortress, who will act, I am sure, as he finds befitting. I only regret that I cannot do so at once; but my orders are strict, my route marked out, and I am told to hasten across this small peninsula as fast as possible without approaching the fortress. It is certainly a rather long walk; but, if you feel fatigued, I can easily make my men construct a little litter and carry you. We shall find some preparations made for us where we are going, though I am afraid not very suitable for your use."

Edith evidently saw that remonstrance was in vain; and, saying that she should prefer to walk, she took the arm of Woodchuck, and explained to him, as they went, all that had passed between her and the Frenchman.

"I guess he is going to form an ambuscade," said Woodchuck. "If so, Miss Prevost, our army must be near, and we shan't be long in their hands. I wish to Heaven I could get away from them, and had but a horse to carry me," he added, thoughtfully, and with a sigh. "But it's no use wishing. God knows his own ways best! Them Hurons look very much like as if they would eat the Oneidas before they've done. Pray God they mayn't take such a fancy to us too!"

Thus saying, he took the place which was assigned to him and Edith in the march. A number of Indians preceded, several little parties moved upon the flanks, and the small body of French infantry marched on, two abreast, for the trail was barely wide enough for that number. Woodchuck and Edith followed them, and the French officer, with the Indian whom he called the Great Elk, walked next, succeeded by the Iroquois prisoners, a large quantity of baggage borne on men's shoulders, and the remainder of the Huron auxiliaries.

It was now twilight in the forest; and, for more than an hour after darkness had fallen upon the earth, the weary and rather perilous march was continued. Once, a small stream was crossed, Woodchuck taking up his fair companion in his sturdy arms, and bearing her over like an infant. Nothing of any note occurred, except a slow and low-toned conversation in the rear, which led Edith to believe that the Iroquois, her late captors, had found some of the other band of natives with whom they could converse; but she could not distinguish anything that was said.

Weary and exhausted, the sight of a fire at length glimmering through the trees, was exceedingly pleasant to her eyes; and, a minute or two after, a scene presented itself which might have looked dreary and comfortless enough under other circumstances, but which had a cheerful and comfortable aspect, after that long and gloomy march.

The trail which they had followed terminated in a small open space, flanked on three sides by low earthworks of no very regular construction, but evidently designed by an experienced military hand. The outer surface of these works was partially concealed by a thicket; and great care had been taken not only to preserve the brambles and the large-leaved raspberry, but to fill every gap in this shrubby screen with branches of pine, and hemlock, and maple. Within these embankments the ground had, to a certain extent, been cleared, though two or three of the larger trees had been left standing, to prevent a vacancy being apparent without. About the middle of the open space, a number of rude huts had been erected of small felled trees and branches; and before one, somewhat larger than the rest, a sentinel was seen planted, who, at the moment Edith came in sight, stood motionless, presenting arms as his comrades filed into the little quadrangle. Behind the soldier, and between him and the hut, was a large, blazing fire, which threw out his dark figure sharply outlined upon the flame.

"Ah, this will do," said the French captain, in a tone of relief. "The commandant has been careful of us. Mademoiselle, I welcome you to my redoubt, and will do the best to make the evening pass pleasantly to you. Now bring in the baggage, tell the cook to get supper ready, and you, Pierrot, see that hut properly arranged for this young lady's accommodation. I calculated on sleeping upon a very comfortable bear-skin to-night; but I will most willingly resign it to you, mademoiselle, in the hope of your passing a good night's rest."

Edith would fain have declined accepting a sacrifice so enhanced; but the captain insisted, and his servant, whom he called Pierrot, at once set about the preparations for her comfort with a degree of skill and dexterity truly French. In the meantime, while Edith, sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree, waited till all was ready, and while a group of stragglers unpacked the baggage which had just been deposited from the sturdy shoulders of the bearers, the French officer called his friend the Huron chief to council; and Apukwa and the other Oneidas were brought before him, accompanied by two young Hurons, who undertook to act as interpreters. Many were the questions asked; and what between the captains' ignorance of Indian manners and the interpreter's ignorance both of French and Iroquois, the worthy officer seemed completely puzzled.

At length, however, after consulting the Great Elk in a low voice, he exclaimed,--

"Tell them that, if their tale be really true--though I've got my doubts, for I never heard of Freemasons amongst Indians before, and that must be what you mean by Honontkoh--but, if their tale be really true, they can stay here with us, and prove their devotion to the service of his Majesty Louis XV., king of France, by fighting the English at our side. They shall be sharply watched, however," he added, in a low voice, as if speaking to himself.

Apukwa heard his words translated; and then, saying something in reply, pointed to Edith and her English companion, with a look of two much meaning to be misunderstood.

"Nothing of the kind," answered the French officer, without waiting for the words which seemed about to follow. "Tell him there's but one choice: either to prove their story and their loyalty by fighting on our side, or to pass under the fire of these gentlemen." And he laid his hand upon a pile of muskets which stood close beside him.

This intimation was quite sufficient. The Honontkoh agreed to stay and fight, without any further conditions; and the Frenchman then gave strict directions, both to his own soldiers and to the Hurons, by whom they were much more likely to be efficiently obeyed, that their very doubtful allies should be kept continually in sight. He then seemed to cast all thought of the affair behind him, and turned towards Edith, who was already in the hut, saying,--

"I hope, mademoiselle, Pierrot has taken good care of you."

"With all the skill and courtesy of a Frenchman, monsieur," she answered, really pleased with the attention and almost fatherly kindness of the old soldier who had been arranging the hut.

"Then, now that you have the means of rest, it only remains to provide you with meat and drink," said the officer. "I see they have spread my table-cloth on the grass there. Will you and your friend come and partake of my fare? Pray make my words understood to him."

Woodchuck readily agreed to accept the Frenchman's hospitality; but Edith declined taking more than a little bread and some wine, alleging that she needed rest more than anything else. The French officer, however, would not be content with this, but with his own hands brought her some savory mess, which would not have disgraced a Parisian dinner-table, some choice wine, and, what was still more valuable to her, a small lamp. He then closed the hurdle-door of the hut upon her, and returned to his meal with Woodchuck, keeping up with him for half an hour a silent conversation by nods and signs, one half of which was probably unintelligible to both. The Frenchman then took possession of another hut, and invited Woodchuck to share it with him for the night.

But the stout woodsman declined any other covering than the sky; and stretching himself across Edith's door, was soon in profound slumber.