The Hunters of the Hills Part 24

"Then it's a good morning for a fight, and the setting is perfect.

You'll remember this day, Robert. What a wonderful situation has the Quebec of the French that was the Stadacona of the Mohawks! A fine town, a great rock and the king of rivers! The St. Lawrence looks golden in the early sunlight, and what a lot of it there is!"

"Yes, it's a great stream," said Robert, looking at the golden river and the far sh.o.r.es, green and high.

"Here we are," said de Galisonniere, pa.s.sing beyond some outlying houses. "It's a good, clear opening, pretty well surrounded by trees, with plenty of sunlight at all points, and as you wished, Mr. Lennox, we're the first to arrive."

They stood together, talking with apparent unconcern, while the morning unfolded, and the golden sunlight over the river deepened. Although he had been trained with the sword for years, it would be Robert's first duel, and, while he approached it with supreme confidence, he knew that he could find no joy in the shedding of another's blood. He felt it a strange chance that such an affair should be forced upon him, and yet this was a dueling city. The hot young spirits of France had brought their customs with them into the North American wilderness, and perhaps the unsought chance, if he used it as he thought he could, would not serve him so ill after all.

De Mezy, with his seconds, Nemours and Le Moyne, was approaching among the trees. It appeared that the seconds for both had arranged everything at a meeting the night before, and nothing was left for the two princ.i.p.als but to fight. Robert saw at a single glance that de Mezy's head was clear. Some of the mottled color had left his cheeks, but the effect was an improvement, and he bore himself like a man who was strong and confident. He and his seconds wore dark blue cloaks over their uniforms, which they laid aside when they saw that Robert and his friends were present.

Nemours stepped forward and asked to speak with Captain de Galisonniere.

"Count Jean de Mezy," he said, "is an experienced swordsman, a victor in a dozen duels, a man of great skill, and he does not wish to take an advantage that might seem unfair to others. He considers the extreme youth of his opponent, and if by chance his friend, Mr. Willet, should know the sword, he will meet him instead."

It was, on the whole, a handsome offer, better than they had expected from de Mezy, and Galisonniere looked with inquiry, first at young Lennox and then at Willet. But Robert shook his head.

"No," he said, "Captain de Mezy's offer does him credit, but I decline it. I am his inferior in years, but his equal in stature and strength, and I have had some experience with the sword. Mr. Willet would gladly take my place, but I can support the combat myself."

Nemours stepped back, and Robert resolved that de Mezy's offer should not have been made wholly in vain. It would save the Frenchman some of his blood, but Nemours and de Galisonniere were now choosing the positions in such a manner that neither would have the sun in his eyes but merely his shoulder against the disc. Robert took off his coat and waistcoat and Willet folded them over his own arm. De Mezy prepared in like manner. Nemours gazed at young Lennox's shoulders and arms, and the muscles swelling beneath his thin shirt, and he was not quite so sure of his princ.i.p.al's victory as he had been.

Then the two faced each other and Robert looked straight into his opponent's eyes, reading there the proof that while outwardly de Mezy might now show no signs of dissipation, yet drink and lost hours had struck a blow at the vital organism of the human machine. He was more confident than ever, and he repeated to himself Willet's advice to be cautious and slow at first.

"Your positions, gentlemen!" said de Galisonniere, and they stood face to face. The turf was short and firm, and the place was ideal for their purpose. Among the trees the eager eyes of Monsieur Berryer and a score of others watched.

"Ready!" said de Galisonniere, and then, after a pause of two or three moments, he added:

"Proceed!"

Robert had not looked straight into his opponent's eye so long for nothing. He knew now that de Mezy was choleric and impatient, that he would attack at once with a vigorous arm and a furious heart, expecting a quick and easy victory. His reading of the mind through the eye was vindicated as de Mezy immediately forced the combat, cutting and thrusting with a fire and power that would have overwhelmed an ordinary opponent.

Robert smiled. He knew now beyond the shadow of a doubt that he was de Mezy's master. Not in vain did he have those large and powerful wrists, firm and strong as wrought steel, and not in vain had he been taught for years by the best swordsman in America. He contented himself with parrying the savage cuts and thrusts, and gave ground slowly, retreating in a circle. De Mezy's eyes blazed at first with triumph. He had resented Robert's refusal of his offer to subst.i.tute Willet, and now, the victory which he had regarded as easy seemed to be even easier than he had hoped. He pushed the combat harder. His sword flashed in a continuous line of light, and the whirring of steel upon steel was unceasing. But the face of Nemours, as he watched with an understanding eye, fell a little. He saw that the breathing of young Lennox was long and regular, and that his eye was still smiling.

Robert continued to give ground, but he never took his eye from that of de Mezy, and at last the count began to feel that something lay behind that calm, smiling gaze. The drink and the mult.i.tude of lost hours came back to demand their price. Something bit into his bone. Was it physical weakness or a sudden decay of confidence? He did not see any sign of weariness in his young opponent, and putting forth every effort of his muscles and every trick and device he knew he could not break through that shining guard of circling steel.

The strange apprehension that had suddenly found a place in de Mezy's mind began to grow. The slow retreat of his young antagonist was becoming slower and then it ceased entirely. Now the leaping sword before him began to drive him back, and always the calm smiling eyes probed into his, reading what he would keep hidden deep in his heart.

They saw the terror that was growing there. The disbelief in his antagonist's prowess was now fast turning into a hideous contradiction, and all the while drink and the lost hours that had clamored for their price were taking it.

De Mezy began to give back. His breath grew shorter and he gasped. The deep mottled red returned to his cheeks, and terror took whole possession of him. He had struck down his man before and he had laughed, but he had never faced such a swordsman as this strange youth of the woods, with his smiling eyes and his face which was a mask despite the smile.

Nemours and Le Moyne turned pale. They saw that their leader had never once pa.s.sed the bar of steel before him, and that while he panted and grew weary Lennox seemed stronger than ever. They saw, too, that the youth was a swordsman far surpa.s.sing de Mezy and that now he was playing with his enemy. He struck down his opponent's guard at will, and his blade whistled about his body and face. Nemours' hand fell to his own hilt, but the watchful Willet saw.

"Be careful," the hunter said in a menacing tone. "Obey the rules or I'll know the reason why."

Nemours' hand fell away from the hilt, and he and Le Moyne exchanged glances, but stood helpless. De Mezy had been driven backward in an almost complete circle. His wrist and arm ached to the shoulder, and always he saw before him the leaping steel and the smiling mask of a face. He caught a glimpse of the blue sky and the shining river, and then his eyes came back to the one that held his fate. Well for de Mezy that he had made the offer that morning to subst.i.tute Willet for Lennox, since youth, with the hot blood of battle pulsing in its veins, may think too late of mercy. But Robert remembered. His revenge was already complete. All had seen the pallid face of de Mezy, and all, whether they knew anything of the sword or not, knew that he lay at the mercy of his foe.

"Strike and make an end!" gasped de Mezy.

The sword flashed before his eyes again, but the blade did not touch him. Instead his own sword was torn from his weakening grasp, and was flung far upon the gra.s.s. Young Lennox, turning away, sheathed his weapon.

"Well done, Robert!" said Willet.

De Mezy put his hand to his face, which was wet with perspiration, and steadied himself. He had grown quite dizzy in the last few moments, and the pulses in his head beat so heavily that he could neither see nor think well. He was conscious that he stood unarmed before a victorious foe, but he did not know Robert had put away his sword.

"Why don't you strike?" he muttered.

"Mr. Lennox is satisfied," said Nemours. "He does not wish the combat to go further."

"Unless Captain de Mezy insists on another trial," said de Galisonniere, smiling a little, "but if he will take the advice of a countryman of his he will let the matter rest where it is. Enough has been done to satisfy the honor of everybody."

He and Nemours exchanged significant glances. It was quite evident to de Mezy's seconds that he was no match for Robert, and that another trial would probably result in greater disaster, so Nemours and Le Moyne, in behalf of their princ.i.p.al, promptly announced that they were satisfied, and de Galisonniere and Glandelet said as much for theirs. Meanwhile Monsieur Berryer and the other spectators, who had now risen to the number of two score, continued to watch from the shelter of the trees.

They had seen the result with protruding eyes, but they had not understood when the young victor thrust his sword back in its sheath.

They could not hear the talk, but it was quite clear that the duel was over, and they turned away, somewhat disappointed that one of their own had lost the combat, but somewhat pleased, too, that he had not lost his own life at the same time.

"Shake hands, gentlemen," said de Galisonniere blithely. "Although no blood was shed it was a hot battle and I hope when you two meet again it will be in friendship and not in enmity. You are a fine swordsman, Lennox, and it was honorable of you, de Mezy, when you didn't know his caliber, to offer to take on, because of his youth, the older man, Mr.

Willet."

Robert came back and offered his hand frankly. De Mezy, whose head was still ringing from his uncommon exertions and chagrin, took it. It was bitter to have lost, but he still lived. In a manner as he saw it, he had been disgraced, but time and the red wine and the white would take away the sting. He still lived. That was the grand and beautiful fact.

Many more joyous days and nights awaited him in the company of Bigot and Cadet and Pean, powerful men who knew how to exercise their power and how to live at the same time. He should be grateful for a little while, at least, to the young Bostonnais, and he shook the proffered hand as heartily as his own damp, limp fingers would admit.

"May your stay in Quebec be as pleasant as you wish," he said, a bit thickly.

"Thanks," said Robert, who read the man's mind thoroughly.

De Galisonniere put away the unstained swords, quite satisfied with the affair, himself and everybody. An important follower of Bigot had been humbled, and yet he had not suffered in such a manner that he could call for the punishment of the one who had humbled him. The very youth of the Bostonnais would disarm resentment against him.

De Mezy's party with formal bows drew away, and Robert and his friends returned to the Inn of the Eagle.

CHAPTER XI

BIGOT'S BALL

"You needn't expect any trouble from the authorities," said de Galisonniere, when they sat once more in the great room at the inn.

"Dueling is of course frowned upon theoretically, but it's a common practice, and since no life has been lost, not even any wound inflicted, you'll hear nothing of it from the government. And de Mezy, I imagine, will say as little about it as possible. He rather fancies himself as a swordsman, and he will not want everybody in Quebec to know that he was defeated and disarmed by a boy. Still, it will spread."

He and Glandelet took a courteous leave, and Robert thanked them for their services. He liked them both, especially de Galisonniere, and he was sorry that fate should put them on opposing sides in the war that all of them felt was surely coming.

"The French count gave you the hand of friendship, but not the spirit of it," said Tayoga, who had not spoken at all while they were at the dueling ground. "He was grateful to you for sparing his life, but his grat.i.tude will go like the wind, and then he will hate you. And he will have the powerful friends, of whom the captain spoke, to plot against you and us."

"That's so, Tayoga," said the hunter, gravely, "I'm sorry the Governor General wasn't here when we arrived. It was an unlucky chance, because it would have been better for us to have given him our letters and have departed at once."

Robert, in his heart, knew that it was true, and that dangers would soon cl.u.s.ter about them, but he was willing to linger. The spell of Quebec had grown stronger, and he had made an entrance into its world in most gallant fashion, sword in hand, like a young knight, and that would appeal to the warlike French.

They deemed it wise to stay in the inn for a while, but two or three hours later Willet went out, returning soon, and showing some excitement.

"An old friend has come," he said.