The Mississippi Bubble Part 21

The smoke of the new settlement rose steadily day by day, but it gave signal for no watching enemy. All about stretched the pale green ocean of the gra.s.ses, dotted by many wild flowers, nodding and bowing like bits of fragile flotsam on the surface of a continually rolling sea. The little groves of timber, scattered here and there, sheltered from the summer sun the wild cattle of the plains. The shorter gra.s.ses hid the coveys of the prairie hens, and on the marsh-grown bayou banks the wild duck led her brood. A great land, a rich, a fruitful one, was this that lay about these adventurers.

A soberness had come over the habit of the master mind of this little colony. His hand took up the ax, and forgot the sword and gun. Day after day he stood looking about him, examining and studying in little all the strange things which he saw; seeking to learn as much as might be of the timorous savages, who in time began to straggle back to their ruined villages; talking, as best he might, through such interpreting as was possible, with savages who came from the west of the Messasebe, and from the South and from the far Southwest; hearing, and learning and wondering of a land which seemed as large as all the earth, and various as all the lands that lay beneath the sun--that West, so glorious, so new, so boundless, which was yet to be the home of countless hearth-fires and the sites of myriad fields of corn. Let others hunt, and fish, and rob the Indians of their furs, after the accepted fashion of the time; as for John Law, he must look about him, and think, and watch this growing of the corn.

He saw it fairly from its beginning, this growth of the maize, this plant which never yet had grown on Scotch or English soil; this tall, beautiful, broad-bladed, tender tree, the very emblem of all fruitfulness. He saw here and there, dropped by the careless hand of some departed Indian woman, the little germinating seeds, just thrusting their pale-green heads up through the soil, half broken by the tomahawk.

He saw the cl.u.s.tering green shoots--numerous, in the sign of plenty--all crowding together and clamoring for light, and life, and air, and room.

He saw the prevailing of the tall and strong upthrusting stalks, after the way of life; saw the others dwarf and whiten, and yet cling on at the base of the bolder stem, parasites, worthless, yet existing, after the way of life.

He saw the great central stalks spring boldly up, so swiftly that it almost seemed possible to count the successive leaps of progress. He saw the strong-ribbed leaves thrown out, waving a thousand hands of cheerful welcome and a.s.surance--these blades of the corn, so much mightier than any blades of steel. He saw the broad beckoning banners of the pale ta.s.sels bursting out atop of the stalk, token of fecundity and of the future. He caught the wide-driven pollen as it whitened upon the earth, borne by the parent West Wind, mother of increase. He saw the thickening of the green leaf at the base, its swelling, its growth and expansion, till the indefinite enlargement showed at length the incipient ear.

He noted the faint brown of the ends of the sweetly-enveloping silk of the ear, pale-green and soft underneath the sheltering and protecting husk, He found the sweet and milk-white tender kernels, row upon row, forming rapidly beneath the husk, Mud saw at length the hardening and darkening of the husk at its free end, which told that man might pluck and eat.

And then he saw the fading of the ta.s.sels, the darkening of the silk and the crinkling of the blades; and there, borne on the strong parent stem, he noted now the many full-rowed ears, protected by their husks and heralded by the ta.s.sels and the blades. "Come, come ye, all ye people! Enter in, for I will feed ye all!" This was the song of the maize, its invitation, its counsel, its promise.

Under the warped lodge frames which the fires of the Iroquois had spared, there were yet visible cl.u.s.ters of the ears of last year's corn.

Here, under his own eye, were growing yet other ears, ripe for the harvesting and ripe for the coming growth. A strange spell fell upon the soul of Law. Visions crossed his mind, born in the soft warm air of these fecundating winds, of this strange yet peaceful scene.

At times he stood and looked out from the door of the palisade, when the prairie mists were rising in the morning at the mandate of the sun, and to his eyes these waving seas of gra.s.ses all seemed beckoning fields of corn. These smokes, coming from the broken tepees of the timid tribesmen, surely they arose from the roofs of happy and contented homes! These wreaths and wraiths of the twisting and wide-stalking mists, surely these were the captains of a general husbandry! Ah, John Law, John Law! Had G.o.d given thee the right feeling and contented heart, happy indeed had been these days in this new land of thine own, far from ign.o.ble strivings and from fevered dreams, far from aimless struggles and unregulated avarice, far from oppression and from misery, far from bickerings, heart-burnings and envyings! Ah, John Law! Had G.o.d but given thee the pure and well-contented heart! For here in the Messasebe, that Mind which made the universe and set man to be one of its little inhabitants--surely that Mind had planned that man should come and grow in this place, tall and strong, and fruitful, useful to all the world, even as this swift, strong growing of the maize.

CHAPTER VII

THE BRINK OF CHANGE

The breath of autumn came into the air. The little flowers which had dotted the gra.s.sy robe of the rolling hills had long since faded away under the ardent sun, and now there appeared only the denuded stalks of the mulleins and the flaunting banners of the goldenrod. The wild grouse shrank from the edges of the little fields and joined their numbers into general bands, which night and morn crossed the country on sustained and strong-winged flight. The plumage of the young wild turkeys, stalking in droves among the open groves, began to emulate the iridescent splendors of their elders. The marshes above the village became the home of yet more numerous thousands of clamoring wild fowl, and high up against the blue there pa.s.sed, on the south-bound journey, the harrow of the wild geese, wending their way from North to South across an unknown empire.

A chill came into the waters of the river, so that the ba.s.s and pike sought out the deeper pools. The squirrels busily h.o.a.rded up supplies of the nuts now ripening. The antlers of the deer and the elk which emerged from the concealing thickets now showed no longer ragged strips of velvet, and their tips were polished in the preliminary fitting for the fall season of love and combat. There came nights when the white frost hung heavy upon all the bending gra.s.ses and the broad-leafed plants, a frost which seared the maize leaves and set aflame the foliage of the maples all along the streams, and decked in a hundred flamboyant tones the leaves of the sumach and all the climbing vines.

As all things now presaged the coming winter, so there approached also the time when the little party, so long companions upon the Western trails, must for the first time know division. Du Mesne, making ready for the return trip over the unknown waterways back to the Lakes, as had been determined to be necessary, spoke of it as though the journey were but an affair of every day.

"Make no doubt, Monsieur L'as," said he, "that I shall ascend this river of the Illini and reach Michiganon well before the snows. Once at the mission of the Miamis, or the village at the river Chicaqua, I shall be quite safe for the winter, if I decide not to go farther on. Then, in the spring, I make no doubt, I shall be able to trade our furs at the Straits, if I like not the long run down to the Mountain. Thus, you see, I may be with you again sometime within the following spring."

"I hope it may be so, my friend," replied Law, "for I shall miss you sadly enough."

"'Tis nothing, Monsieur; you will be well occupied. Suppose I take with me Kataikini and Kabayan, perhaps also Tete Gris. That will give us four paddlers for the big canoe, and you will still have left Pierre Noir and Jean, to say nothing of our friends the Illini hereabout, who will be glad enough to make cause with you in case of need. I will leave Wabana for madame, and trust she may prove of service. See to it, pray you, that she observes the offices of the church; for methinks, unless watched, Wabana is disposed to become careless and un-Christianized."

"This I will look to," said Law, smiling.

"Then all is well," resumed Du Mesne, "and my absence will be but a little thing, as we measure it on the trails. You may find a winter alone in the wilderness a bit dull for you, mayhap duller than were it in London, or even in Quebec. Yet 'twill pa.s.s, and in time we shall meet again. Perhaps some good father will be wishing to come back with me to set up a mission among the Illini. These good fathers, they so delight in losing fingers, and ears, and noses for the good of the Church--though where the Church be glorified therein I sometimes can not say. Perhaps some leech--mayhap some artisan--"

"Nay, 'tis too far a spot, Du Mesne, to tempt others than ourselves."

"Upon the contrary rather, Monsieur L'as. It is matter for laughter to see the efforts of Louis and his ministers to keep New France chained to the St. Lawrence! Yet my good lord governor might as well puff out his cheeks against the north wind as to try to keep New France from pouring west into the Messasebe; and as much might be said for those good rulers of the English colonies, who are seeking ever to keep their people east of the Alleghanies."

"'Tis the Old World over again, there in the St. Lawrence," said Law.

"Right you are, Monsieur L'as," exclaimed Du Mesne. "New France is but an extension of the family of Louis. The intendant reports everything to the king. Monsieur So-and-so is married. Very well, the king must know it! Monsieur's eldest daughter is making sheep's eyes at such and such a soldier of the regiment of the king. Very well, this is weighty matter, of which the king must be advised! Monsieur's wife becomes expectant of a son and heir. 'Tis meet that Louis the Great should be advised of this! Mother of G.o.d! 'Tis a pretty mess enough back there on the St.

Lawrence, where not a hen may cackle over its new-laid egg but the king must know it, and where not a family has meat enough for its children to eat nor clothes enough to cover them. My faith, in that poor medley of little lords and lazy va.s.sals, how can you wonder that the best of us have risen and taken to the woods! Yet 'tis we who catch their beaver for them; and if G.o.d and the king be willing, sometime we shall get a certain price for our beaver--provided G.o.d and the king furnish currency to pay us; and that the governor, the priest and the intendant ratify the acts of G.o.d and the king!"

Law smiled at the st.u.r.dy vehemence of the other's speech, yet there was something of soberness in his own reply.

"Sir," said he, "you see here my little crooked rows of maize. Look you, the beaver will pa.s.s away, but the roots of the corn will never be torn out. Here is your wealth, Du Mesne."

The st.u.r.dy captain scratched his head. "I only know, for my part," said he, "that I do not care for the settlements. Not that I would not be glad to see the king extend his arm farther to the West, for these sullen English are crowding us more and more along our borders. Surely the land belongs to him who finds it."

"Perhaps better to him who can both find and hold it. But this soil will one day raise up a people of its own."

"Yet as to that," rejoined Du Mesne, as the two turned and walked back to the stockade, "we are not here to handle the affairs of either Louis or William. Let us e'en leave that to monsieur the intendant, and monsieur the governor, and our friends, the gray owls and the black crows, the Recollets and the Jesuits. I mind to call this spot home with you, if you like. I shall be back as soon as may be with the things we need, and we shall plant here no starving colony, but one good enough for the home of any man. Monsieur, I wish you very well, and I may congratulate you on your daughter. A heartier infant never was born anywhere on the water trail between the Mountain and the Messasebe. What name have you chosen for the young lady, Monsieur?"

"I have decided," said John Law, "to call her Catharine."

CHAPTER VIII

TOUS SAUVAGES

Had nature indeed intended Law for the wild life of the trail, and had he indeed spent years rather than months among these unusual scenes, he could hardly have been better fitted for the part. Hardy of limb, keen of eye, tireless of foot, with a hand which any weapon fitted, his success as hunter made his companions willing enough to a.s.sign to him the chase of the bison or the stag; so that he became not only patron but provider for the camp.

Some weeks after the departure of Du Mesne, Law was returning from the hunt some miles below the station. His tall and powerful figure, hardened by continued outdoor exercise, was scarce bowed by the weight of the wild buck which he bore across his shoulders. His eye, accustomed to the instant readiness demanded in the _voyageur's_ life, glanced keenly about, taking in each item of the scene, each movement of the little bird on the tree, the rustling of the gra.s.s where a rabbit started from its form, the whisk of the gray squirrel's tail on the limb far overhead.

The touch of autumn was now in the air. The leaves of the wild grapevine were falling. The oaks had donned garments of somber brown, the hickories had lost their leaves, while here and there along the river sh.o.r.es the flaming sentinels of the maples had changed their scarlet uniform for one of duller hue. The wild rice in the marshes had shed its grain upon the mud banks. The acorns were loosening in their cups. Fall in the West, gorgeous, beautiful, had now set in, of all the seasons of the year, that most loved by the huntsman.

This tall, lean man, clad in buckskin like a savage, brown almost as a savage, as active and as alert, seemed to fit not ill with these environments, nor to lack either confidence or contentment. He walked on steadily, following the path along the bayou bank, and at length paused for a moment, throwing down his burden and stooping to drink at the tiny pool made by the little rivulet which trickled down the face of the bluff. Here he bathed his face and hands in the cool stream, for the moment abandoning himself to that rest which the hunter earns. It was when at length he raised his head and turned to resume his burden that his suspicious eye caught a glimpse of something which sent him in a flash below the level of the gra.s.ses, and thence to the cover of a tree trunk.

As he gazed from his hiding-place he saw the tawny waters of the bayou broken into a long series of advancing ripples. Pa.s.sing the fringe of wild rice, swimming down beneath the heavy cordage of the wild grapevines, there came on two canoes, roughly made of elm bark, in fashion which would have shown an older frontiersman full proof of their Western origin.

In the bow of the foremost boat, as Law could now clearly see, sat a slender young man, clad in the uniform, now soiled and faded, of a captain in the British army. His boat was propelled by four dusky paddlers, Indians of the East. Stalwart, powerful, silent, they sent the craft on down stream, their keen eyes glancing swiftly from one point to the other of the ever-changing panorama, yet finding nothing that would seem to warrant pause. Back of the first boat by a short distance came a kindred craft, its crew comprising two white men and two Indian paddlers. Of the white men, one might have been a petty officer, the other perhaps a private soldier.

It was, then, as Du Mesne had said. Every party bound into the West must pa.s.s this very point upon the river of the Illini. But why should these be present here? Were they friends or foes? So queried the watcher, tense and eager as a waiting panther, now crouched with straining eye behind the sheltering tree.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

As the leading boat swung clear of the shadows, the man in the prow turned his face, scanning closely the sh.o.r.e of the stream. As he did so, Law half started to his feet, and a moment later stepped from his concealment. He gazed again and again, doubting what he saw. Surely those clean-cut, handsome features could belong to no man but his former friend, Sir Arthur Pembroke!

Yet how could Sir Arthur be here? What could be his errand, and how had he been guided hither? These sudden questions might, upon the instant, have confused a brain ready as that of this observer, who paused not to reflect that this meeting, seemingly so impossible, was in fact the most natural thing in the world; indeed, could scarce have been avoided by any one traveling with Indian guides down the waterway to the Messasebe.

The keen eyes of the red paddlers caught sight of the crushed gra.s.ses at the little landing on the bayou bank, even as Law rose from his hiding-place. A swift, concerted sweep of the paddles sent the boat circling out into midstream, and before Law knew it he was covered by half a dozen guns. He hardly noticed this. His own gun he left leaning against a tree, and his hand was thrown out high, in front of him as he came on, calling out to those in the stream. He heard the command of the leader in the boat, and a moment later both canoes swung insh.o.r.e.

"Have down your guns, Sir Arthur," cried Law, loudly and gaily. "We are none but friends here. Come in, and tell me that it is yourself, and not some miracle of mine eyes."

The young man so surprisingly addressed half started from the thwart in his amazement. His face bent into an incredulous frown, scarce carrying comprehension, even as he approached the sh.o.r.e. As he left the boat, for an instant Pembroke's hand was half extended in greeting, yet a swift change came over his countenance, and his body stiffened.

"Is it indeed you, Mr. Law?" he said. "I could not have believed myself so fortunate."