Forge In The Forest Part 12

"Master," he replied, with a certain proud n.o.bility, which had ever impressed me in the man, "if any hurt comes to them, it will be not over my dead body alone, but over those of a dozen more stout fellows who would die to serve you."

"I believe you," said I, reaching out my hand. He kissed it, and went off quickly about his affairs.

Hardly was he gone when Mizpah came back. She was very pale and calm, and her eyes shone with the fire of some intense purpose. Had I known woman's heart as do some of my friends whom I could mention, I should have fathomed that purpose at her first words. But as I have said, I am slow to understand a woman's hints and objects, though men I can read ere their thoughts find speech. There was a faint glory of the last of sunset on Mizpah's face and hair as she stood facing me, her lips parted to speak. Behind her lay the little garden, with its sunflowers and lupines, and its thicket of pole beans in one corner. Then, beyond the gray fence, the smooth tide of the expanding river, violet-hued, the copper and olive wood, the marshes all greenish amber, and the dusky purple of the hills. It was all stamped upon my memory in delectable and imperishable colours, though I know that at the moment I saw only Mizpah's tall grace, her red-gold hair, the eyes that seemed to bring my spirit to her feet. I was thinking, "Was there ever such another woman's face, or a presence so gracious?" when I realized that she was speaking.

"Do I paddle well, Monsieur?" she asked, with the air of one who repeats a question.

"Pardon, a thousand pardons, Madame!" I exclaimed.

"Yes, you use your paddle excellently well."

"And I can shoot, I can shoot very skilfully," she went on, with strong emphasis. "I can handle both pistol and musket."

"Indeed, Madame!" said I, considerably astonished.

"Ask Marc if I am not a cunning shot," she persisted, while her eyes seemed to burn through me in their eager intentness.

"Yes, Father," came Marc's whispered response out of the shadow, where I saw only the bended head of the maid Prudence. "Yes, Father, she is a more cunning marksman than I."

I turned again to her, and saw that she expected, that she thirsted for, an answer. But what answer?

"Madame," said I, bowing profoundly, and hoping to cover my bewilderment with a courtly speech, "may I hope that you will fire a good shot for me some day; I should account it an honour above all others if I might be indebted to such a hand for such succour."

She clasped her hands in a great gladness, crying, "Then I may go with you?"

"Go with me!" I cried, looking at her in huge amazement.

"She wants to help you find the child," whispered Marc.

The thought of this white girl among the perils which I saw before me pierced my heart with a strange pang, and in my haste I cried rudely:-

"Nonsense! Impossible! Why, it would be mere madness!"

So bitter was the pain of disappointment which wrung her face that I put out both hands towards her in pa.s.sionate deprecation.

"Forgive me; oh, forgive me, Madame!" I pleaded.

"But how _could_ I bring you into such perils?"

But she caught my hands and would have gone on her knees to me if I had not stayed her roughly.

"Take me with you," she implored. "I can paddle, I can serve you as well as any man whom you can get. And I am brave, believe me. And how _can_ I wait here when my boy, my darling, my Philip, is alone among those beasts? I would die every hour."

How could I refuse her? Yet refuse her I would, I must.

To take her would be to lessen my own powers, I thought, and to add tenfold to the peril of the venture. Nevertheless my heart did now so leap at the thought of this strange, close fellowship which she demanded, that I came near to silencing my better judgment, and saying she might go. But I shut my teeth obstinately on the words.

At this moment, while she waited trembling, Marc once more intervened.

"You might do far worse than take her, Father. No one else will serve you more bravely or more skilfully, I think."

So Marc actually approved of this incredible proposal?

Then was it, after all, so preposterous? My wavering must have shown itself in my face, for her own began to lighten rarely.

"But -- those clothes!" said I.

At this she flushed to her ears. But she answered bravely.

"I will wear others; did you think I would so hamper you with this guise? No," she added with a little nervous laugh, "I will play the man; be sure."

And so, though I could scarce believe it, it was settled that Mizpah Hanford should go with me.

That night I found little sleep. My thoughts were a chaos of astonishment and apprehension. Marc, moreover, kept tossing, for his wound fretted him sorely, and I was continually at his side to give him drink. At about two in the morning there came a horseman to the garden gate, riding swiftly. Hurrying out I met him in the path. It was Father Fafard, come straight upon my word.

He turned his horse into Giraud's pasture, put saddle and bridle in the porchway, and then followed me in to Marc's bedside.

When he had dressed the wound anew, and administered a soothing draught, Marc fell into a quiet sleep.

"He will do well, but it is a matter for long patience," said the Cure.

Then we went out of the house and down to the garden corner by the thicket of beans, where we might talk freely and jar no slumberers. Father Fafard fell in with my plans most heartily, and accepted my charges.

To hold the Black Abbe in check at any point, would, he felt, be counted unto him for righteousness.

My mind being thus set at ease, I resolved to start as soon as might be after daybreak.

Before it was yet full day, I was again astir, and goodwife Giraud was getting ready, in bags, our provision of bacon and black bread. I had many small things to do, -- gathering ammunition for two muskets and four pistols, selecting my paddles with care from Giraud's stock, and loading the canoe to the utmost advantage for ease of running and economy of s.p.a.ce.

Then, as I went in to the goodwife's breakfast, I was met at the door by a slim youth in leathern coat and leggins, with two pistols and Marc's whinger. I recognized the carven hilt stuck bravely in his belt, and Marc's knitted cap of gray wool on his head, well pulled down. The boy blushed, but met my eye with a sweet firmness, and I bowed with great courtesy. Even in this attire I thought she could not look aught but womanly -- for it was Mistress Mizpah. Yet I could not but confess that to the stranger she would appear but as a singularly handsome stripling. The glory of her hair was hidden within her cap.

"These are the times," said I, seriously, "that breed brave women."

Breakfast done, messages and orders repeated, and farewells all spoken, the sun was perhaps an hour high when we paddled away from the little landing under Giraud's garden fence. I waved my cap backwards to Prudence and the Cure, where they stood side by side at the landing. My comrade in the bow waved her hand once, then fell to paddling diligently. I was still in a maze of wonderment, ready at any time to wake and find it a dream. But the little seas that slapped us as we cleared the river mouth, these were plainly real. I headed for the eastern point of the island, intending to land at the mouth of the Piziquid and make some inquiries. The morning air was like wine in my veins.

There was a gay dancing of ripples over toward Blomidon, and the sky was a clear blue. A dash of cool drops wet me. It was no dream.

And so in a strange fellowship I set out to find the child.

Chapter XIII.

My Comrade.

I COULD not sufficiently commend the ease and aptness with which my beautiful comrade wielded her paddle. But in a while the day grew hot, and I bade her lie back in her place and reSt. At first she would not, till I was compelled to remind her in a tone of railing that I was the captain in this enterprise, and that good soldiers must obey. Whereupon, though her back was toward me, I saw a flush creep around to her little ears, and she laid the paddle down something abruptly. I feared that I had vexed her, and I made haste to attempt an explanation, although it seemed to me that she should have understood a matter so obvious.

"I beg you to pardon me, Madame, if I seem to insist too much," said I, with hesitation. "But you must know that, if you exhaust yourself at the beginning of the journey, before you are hardened to the long continuance of such work, you will be unable to do anything to-morrow, and our quest will be much hindered."

"Forgive me!" she cried; "you are right, of course.

Oh, I fear I have done wrong in hampering you! But I am strong, truly, and enduring as most men, Monsieur."

"Yes," I answered, "but to do one thing strenuously all day long, and for days thereafter, that is hard. I believe you can do it, or I should have been mad indeed to bring you. But you must let me advise you at the beginning. For this first day, rest often and save yourself as much as possible. By this means you will be able to do better to-morrow, and better still the day after. By the other means, you will be able to do little to-morrow most likely, and perhaps nothing the day after."

"Well," she said, turning her head partly around, so that I could see the gracious profile, "tell me, Monsieur, when to work and when to reSt. I will obey.

It is a lucky soldier, I know, who has the Seigneur de Briart to command him."

"But I fear, Madame," said I, "that discipline would sadly suffer if he had often such soldiers to command."