Montlivet Part 10

"Why are you reckless? You have crashed through here as careless of noise as a stag with the hounds hot behind."

He dropped to the ground, and took one slim moccasined foot in his hand. He looked at it soberly. "It seems a small thing, does it not, to cause so much ill-will between us? It has neither weight nor mental force above it, that it should make the earth tremble. No, monsieur, you are searching for excuses for your annoyance with me. You are annoyed all the time. I vex you by my silence, still more by my speech. We are to be some time together, and I do not want to be a constant canker. Is it not possible for you to forget me, to ignore me?"

I saw he was in earnest. "And so you really do not know what irritated me? Are you so little of a woodsman?"

"I have never traveled through the woods."

I gave him a dubious glance. "Yet you were weeks with the Hurons after your capture."

I saw him set his teeth hard as if at a memory. "We traveled by water ways. I was little on the sh.o.r.e except at night."

A sudden picture sickened me. The nightly camp and this slender lad with his curious air of daintiness, and the great oily Hurons lounging in the dirt and smoke.

"Were they cruel to you?" I broke out.

He shook his head. "No," he said, with the air of justice I had liked in him heretofore; "no, they were not cruel. Indeed they were almost kind, in that they left me a great deal alone. I feared from the clemency they showed me that they were reserving me for torture."

I eyed him with some skepticism. "It was not the Hurons, but their rivals, the Ottawas, who would have sent you to the stake," I explained curtly. "The Hurons--those of the Baron's band--would have held you as a hostage,--perhaps as a deputy."

He looked up with interested eyes. "You are playing some political game, and these tribes are your counters. I should like to understand."

I examined his look, but could make nothing of it. "You will pardon me, monsieur," I said with a shrug, "but these are troublous times, and I find it hard to believe you as ignorant as you seem."

He still met my look. "And if I were not ignorant?" he asked. "Could I, one Englishman, alone and unarmed, accomplish anything that would hurt you? You see that I am harmless. Why not be friends?"

I shrugged my shoulders.

"So you are determined that I am a secret amba.s.sador," he meditated.

"Well, I must act my part with dignity. And you think we cannot be comrades? I dislike to irritate you as I do."

I answered him soberly. "We will be partners," I agreed; "friends for the night's bivouac, willing to help and to share."

"But you will not trust me?"

I looked away. "What would a truce between us mean? You are English, I, French. Be a.s.sured that sooner or later the fox eats the hen."

He laughed. "Who is to be the fox?" He jumped to his feet.

"Partners, then, it shall be. A strange creed. A helping hand to-day and a knife in the back to-morrow. But I shall follow you, monsieur."

"You will follow?"

"In this path as in others. If you refuse to admit even a truce between us, I agree. I shall keep out of your way as much as possible.

Only--I would not have you think me ungrateful."

I could never forbear a smile when he was serious. "We shall probably think very little about each other," I said comfortably. "Once settled into routine we shall have work to fill our thought. You will learn to do your share. I think you willing."

"Indeed I am willing, monsieur."

"Good. So we shall work hard, sleep early, and the months will pa.s.s before we know. Let us not talk of trust or friendship, since our ways are divided."

He bowed. "You are right, monsieur. And I meant only this,--I will try not to be an irritation. You will try not to think of me as such.

You agree?"

I smiled again. "Yes. Partners for the night," I reminded him. "I am gratified, Monsieur Starling, that you see the matter so reasonably.

There is a gulf between us, and we cannot change it." We did not speak again till we reached Pierre at the sh.o.r.e.

CHAPTER IX

WESTWARD

Where were the pursuing Indians? For two days we watched, and the water was unflecked by sign of life. We listened in the murk of night and strained our eyes in the sun's dazzle. But we found nothing but forest and sky and mystery. We were alone with our shadows.

The forty-eight hours crawled. Except at noonday we were chilled, our stomachs complained of the cold food, and our minds, and therefore our bodies, were sluggish. The Englishman had the best of it, for he could sleep like a bear in winter. Save for the hours when he was on watch he knew but little of what was pa.s.sing. He lay on the warm side of the bank and slept with his face to the sun.

At the end of two days I felt that I had paid all reasonable due to Prudence, and could follow Inclination and be comfortable.

"We shall push on at daybreak to-morrow," I told the men. "Hang the kettles. To-night we shall have a boiling pot."

Truly a fire makes home of a wilderness. We sat with our heels to the blaze, and grew jovial. The Englishman said little, but was alert to serve us.

"It is salt to the broth to have it given me by a pretty squaw," I told him as he filled my bowl a second time.

He flushed with anger, and I thought myself that it was a cheap jest and unworthy. He had been considerate to wear his disguise without complaint.

"I shall find something for you to wear when we shift our cargo to leave," I promised him, and since my mood was still mellow, I looked him over with a smile. He had smoothed and rounded in a wonderful manner in his two days of rest, and I was pleased by the red in his cheeks. "You will soon be a second Pierre if you sleep and eat in this fashion," I laughed at him, "and then there will be no room for you in the canoe. If all your countrymen sleep as you do, it is small wonder that they have left us undisturbed in the beaver lands."

He smiled a little in deference to my small jest, but the next instant he looked away. "I had not slept in weeks," he said softly, as if ashamed of his excuse.

That shamed me, and I came to my feet and let my bowl of broth spill where it would.

"Sleep well, lad. You are safe with us," I cried, and I left my meal unfinished, and went to the hidden cargo. Then and there I would find proper clothing for the Englishman. I had been slothful in the matter.

The clothing was stored deep, and I was bending to the search with some shortness of breath, when the Englishman touched my shoulder.

"Is it clothing for me?"

I handed him a blanket coat for answer. "It is large, but warm," I said, and bent again to my task.

Still he kept a hand on my shoulder. "Monsieur, I am satisfied with my dress."

I could be putty in his hands one moment and scorn him the next.

"Nonsense!" I snapped over my shoulder.

But he clung like a gnat. "It is not nonsense. Stop a moment and listen to my reasons."