CHAPTER XX
YNDAIA
At the mouth of the pass which led to the Vale Yndaia I lay with myIndians that night, two mounting guard, then one, then two more, andthe sentinels changed every three hours throughout the night. But allwere excited and all slept lightly.
Within the Vale Yndaia, perhaps a hundred yards from the mouth of thepass, stood the lonely little house of bark in which Madame deContrecoeur had lived alone for twenty years.
And here, that night, Lois lay with her mother; and no living thingnearer the dim house than we who mounted guard--except for the littlebirds asleep that Madame de Contrecoeur had tamed, and the small forestcreatures which had learned to come fearlessly at this lonely woman'slow-voiced call. And these things I learned not then, but afterwards.
Never had I seen such utter loneliness--for it had been less asolitude, it seemed to me, had the little house not stood there underthe pale lustre of the stars.
On every side lofty hills enclosed the valley, heavily timbered totheir crests; and through the intervale the rill ran, dashing out ofthe pass and away into that level, wooded strip to the fern-glade whichlay midway between the height of land and Catharines-town; and therejoined the large stream which flowed north. I could see in the darknesslittle of the secret and hidden valley called Yndaia, only the heightssilhouetted against the stars, a vague foreground sheeted with mist,and the dark little house standing there all alone under the stars.
All night long the great tiger-owls yelped and hallooed across thevalley; all night the spectral whip-poor-will whispered its husky,frightened warning. And long after midnight a tiny bird awoke and sangmonotonously for an hour or more.
Awaiting an attack from Catharines-town at any moment, we dared notmake a fire or even light a torch. Rotten trunks which had fallenacross the stream we dragged out and piled up across the mouth of thepass to make a defence; but we could do no more than that; and, ourefforts ended, my Indians sat in a circle cross-legged, quietly hoopingand stretching their freshly taken scalps by the dim light of thestars, and humming their various airs of triumph in low, contented, andpurring voices. All laboured under subdued excitement, the brief andalmost silent slaughter in the ferns having thoroughly aroused them.But the tension showed only in moments of abrupt gaiety, as when Mayarochallenged them to pronounce his name, and they could not, there beingno letter "M" in the Iroquois language--neither "P" nor "B" either, forthat matter--so they failed at "Butler" too, and Philip Schuyler, whicharoused all to nervous merriment.
The Yellow Moth finished braiding his trophy first, went to the stream,and washed the blood from his weapons and his hands, polished up knifeand hatchet, freshened his priming and covered it, and then, being aChristian, said his prayers on his knees, rolled over on his blanket,and instantly fell asleep.
One by one the others followed his example, excepting the Sagamore, whoyawning with repressed excitement, picked up his rifle, mounted theabattis, and squatted there, his chin on a log, motionless and intentas a hunting cat in long grass. I joined him; and there we satunstirring, listening, peering ahead into the mist-shot darkness, untilour three hours' vigil ended.
Then we noiselessly summoned the Grey-Feather, and he crept up to thelog defence, rifle in hand, to sit there alone until his three hours'duty was finished, when the Yellow Moth and Tahoontowhee should takehis place.
It was already after sunrise when I was awakened by the tinkle of acow-bell. A broad, pinkish shaft of sunshine slanted through the passinto the hidden valley; and for the first time in my life I now beheldthe Vale Yndaia in all the dewy loveliness of dawn. A milch cow fedalong the brook, flank-deep in fern. Chickens wandered in its wake,snapping at gnats and tiny, unseen creatures under the leaves.
Dainty shreds of fog rose along the stream, films of mist floated amongsun-tipped ferns and bramble sprays. The little valley, cup-shaped andgreen, rang with the loud singing of birds. The pleasant noises of thebrook filled my ears. All the western hills were now rosy where therising sun struck their crests; north and south a purplish plum-bloomstill tinted velvet slopes, which stretched away against a saffron skyuntroubled by a cloud.
But the pretty valley and its green grass and ferns and hills held myattention only at moments, for my eyes ever reverted to the low barkhouse, with its single chimney of clay, now stained orange by the sun.
All the impatience and tenderness and not ignoble curiosity so longrestrained assailed me now, as I gazed upon that solitary dwelling,where the unhappy mother of Lois de Contrecoeur had endured captivityfor more than twenty years.
Vines of the flowering scarlet bean ran up the bark sides of the house,and over the low doorway; and everywhere around grew wild flowers andthickets of laurel and rhododendron, as in a cultivated park. And I sawthat she had bordered a walk of brook-pebbles with azaleas andmarsh-honeysuckles, making a little path to the brook over which was alog bridge with hand rails.
But laurel, azalea, and rhododendron bloomed no longer; the flowersthat now blossomed in a riot of azure, purple, and gold on every sidewere the lovely wild asters and golden-rod; and no pretty garden setwith formal beds and garnished artfully seemed to compare with thiswild garden in the Vale Yndaia.
As the sun warmed the ground, the sappy perfume of tree and fern andgrass mounted, scenting the pure, cool air with warm and balm-likeodours. Gauzy winged creatures awoke, flitted, or hung glittering tosome frail stem. The birds' brief autumn music died away; only the drychirring of a distant squirrel broke the silence, and the faint tinkleof the cow-bell.
My Indians, now all awake, were either industriously painting theirfeatures or washing their wounds and scratches and filling them withbalsam and bruised witch-hazel, or were eating the last of our parchedcorn and stringy shreds of leathery venison. All seemed as complacentas a party of cats licking their rumpled fur; and examining theirbites, scratches, bruises, and knife wounds, I found no serious injuryamong them, and nothing to stiffen for very long the limbs of men insuch a hardy condition.
The youthful Night Hawk was particularly proud of an ugly knife-slash,with which the Black Snake had decorated his chest--nay, I suspectedhim of introducing sumac juice to make it larger and more showy--butsaid nothing, as these people knew well enough how to care for theirbodies.
Doubtless they were full as curious as was I concerning Madame deContrecoeur--perhaps more so, because not one of them but believed herthe Sorceress which unhappy circumstances had obliged her to pretend tobe. Pagan or Christian, no Indian is ever rid of superstition.
Yet, devoured by curiosity, not one of them betrayed it, forbearing, atleast in my presence, even to mention the White Prophetess of theSenecas, though they voiced their disappointment freely enoughconcerning the escape of Amochol.
So we ate our corn and dried meat, and drank at the pretty rill, andcleansed us of mud and blood, each after his own fashion--discussingthe scalping of the Eries the while, the righteous death of theBlack-Snake, the rout of Butler's army, and how its unexpected arrivalhad saved Amochol. For none among us doubted that, another half hour atmost, and we had heard the cracking signal of Boyd's rifles across thehideous and fiery space.
We were not a whit alarmed concerning Boyd and his party. ReconnoitringCatharines-town from the north, they must have very quickly discoveredthe swarm of partly crippled hornets, so unexpectedly infesting thenest; and we felt sure that they had returned in safety to watch andkeep in touch with the beaten army.
Yet, beaten at Chemung, exhausted after a rapid and disorderly retreat,this same defeated Tory army was still formidable and dangerous. We hadseen enough of them to understand that. Fewer men than these atCatharines-town had ambuscaded Braddock; fewer still had destroyedanother British expedition; while in the north Abercrombie had beenwhipped by an enemy less than a quarter as strong as his own force.
No, we veteran riflemen knew that this motley army of Butler andMcDonald, if it had indeed lost a few rattles, had however parted withnone of its poison fangs. Also, Amochol still lived.
And it had beenstill another Montour of the wily and accursed Frontenacbreed--"Anasthose the Huron"--who had encompassed the destruction ofBraddock.
That the night had passed without a sign of an enemy, and the dawn hadheralded no yelling onset, we could account for either because noscouts from Catharines-town had as yet discovered the scalped bodies ofthe Eries in the glade, or because our own pursuing army was so closethat no time could be taken by the Senecas to attack a narrow pass heldby five resolute men.
Now that the sun had risen I worried not at all over our futureprospects, believing that we would hear from our advancing army byafternoon; and the Sagamore was of my opinion.
And even while we were discussing these chances, leaning against ourlog abattis in the sunshine, far away across the sunlit flat-woods wesaw a man come out among the ferns from the southward, and lie down.And then another man came creeping from the south, and another, and yetanother, the sunlight running red along their rifle barrels.
After them went both Oneidas, gliding swiftly out and speeding forwardjust within the encircling cover, taking every precaution, although wewere almost certain that the distant scouts were ours.
And they proved to be my own men--a handful of Morgan's--pushing far inadvance to reconnoitre Catharines-town from the south, although ourmain army was marching by the western ridges, where Boyd had marked apath for them.
A corporal in my corps, named Baily, came back with the Oneidas,climbed with them over the logs, sprang down inside, and saluted mecoolly enough.
His scout of four, he admitted, had made a bad job of the swamptrail--and his muddy and disordered dress corroborated this. But thenews he brought was interesting.
He had not seen Boyd. The Battle of the Chemung had ended in adisorderly rout of Butler's army, partly because we had outflankedtheir works, partly because Butler's Indians could not be held to faceour artillery fire, though Brant displayed great bravery in rallyingthem. We had lost few men and fewer officers; grain-fields, hay-stacks,and Indian towns were afire everywhere along our line of march.
Detachments followed every water-course, to wipe out the lesser towns,gardens, orchards, and harvest fields on either flank, and gather upthe last stray head of the enemy's cattle. The whole Iroquois Empirewas now kindling into flames and the track our army left behind it wasa blackened desolation, as horrible to those who wrought it as to thewretched and homeless fugitives who had once inhabited it.
He added to me in a lower voice, glancing at my Indians with theineradicable distrust of the average woodsman, that our advanced guardhad discovered white captives in several of the Indian towns--in one ayoung mother with a child at her breast. She, her husband, and fivechildren had been taken at Wyoming. The Indians and Tories had murderedall save her and her baby. Her name was Mrs. Lester.
In one town, he said, they found a pretty little white child, terriblyemaciated, sitting on the grass and playing with a chicken. It couldspeak only the Iroquois language. Doubtless its mother had beenmurdered long since. So starved was the little thing that had ourofficers not restrained it the child might have killed itself by toomuch eating.
Also, they found a white prisoner--a man taken at Wyoming, one LukeSweatland; and it was said in the army that another young white girlhad been found in company with her little brother, both painted likeIndians, and that still another white child was discovered, whichCaptain Machin had instantly adopted for his own.
The Corporal further said that our army was proceeding slowly, muchtime being consumed in laying the axe to the plum, peach, and appleorchards; and that it was a sad sight to see the heavily fruited treesfall over, crushing the ripe fruit into the mud.
He thought that the advanced guard of our army might be up by eveningto burn Catharines-town, but was not certain. Then he asked permissionto go back and rejoin the scout which he commanded; which permission Igave, though it was not necessary; and away he went, running like ayoung deer that has lagged from the herd--a tall, fine, wholesome youngfellow, and as sturdy and active as any I ever saw in rifle-dress andruffles.
My Indians lay down on their bellies, stretching themselves out in thesun across the logs, and, save for the subdued but fierce glimmer undertheir lazy lids, they seemed as pleasant and harmless as four tawnypumas a-sunning on the rocks.
As for me, I wandered restlessly along the brook, as far as the bridge,and, seating myself here, fished out writing materials and my journalfrom my pouch, and filled in the events of the preceding days asbriefly and exactly as I knew how. Also I made a map of Catharines-townand of Yndaia from memory, resolving to correct it later when Mr. Lodgeand his surveyors came up, if opportunity permitted.
As I sat there musing and watching the chickens loitering around thedooryard, I chanced to remember the milch cow.
Casting about for a receptacle, I discovered several earthen jars ofSeneca make set in willow baskets and standing by the stream. These Iwashed in the icy water, then slinging two of them on my shoulder Iwent in quest of the cow.
She proved tame enough and glad, apparently, to be relieved of hermilk, I kneeling to accomplish the business, having had experience withthe grass-guard of our army on more than one occasion.
Lord! How sweet the fragrance of the milk to a man who had seen none inmany days. And so I carried back my jars and set them by the door ofthe bark house, covering each with a flat stone. And as I turned away,I saw smoke coming from the chimney; and heard the shutters on thesouthern window being gently opened.
Lord! What a sudden leap my heart gave as the door before me moved withthe soft sliding of the great oak bolt, and was slowly opened wide tothe morning sunshine.
For a moment I thought it was Lois who stood there so white and still,looking at me with grey, unfathomable eyes; then I stepped forwarduncertainly, bending in silence over the narrow, sun-tanned hand thatlay inert under the respectful but trembling salute I offered.
"Euan Loskiel," she murmured in the French tongue, laying her otherhand over mine and looking me deep in the eyes. "Euan Loskiel, asoldier of the United States! May God ever mount guard beside you forall your goodness to my little daughter."
Tears filled her eyes; her pale, smooth cheeks were wet.
"Lois is still asleep," she said. "Come quietly with her mother and youshall see her where she sleeps."
Cap in hand, coon-tail dragging, I entered the single room on silent,moccasined feet, set my rifle in a corner, and went over to the couchof tumbled fawn-skin and silky pelts.
As I stood looking down at the sweetly flushed face, her mother liftedmy brier-scarred hand and pressed her lips to it; and I, hot andcrimson with happiness and embarrassment, found not a word to utter.
"My little daughter's champion!" she murmured. "Brave, and pure ofheart! Ah, Monsieur, chivalry indeed is of no nation! It is a broadernobility which knows neither race nor creed nor ancestry nor birth....How the child adores you!"
"And you, Madame. Has ever history preserved another such example ofdauntless resolution and filial piety as Lois de Contrecoeur has shownus all?"
Her mother's beautiful head lifted a little:
"The blood of France runs in her veins, Monsieur." Then, for the firsttime, a pale smile touched her pallour. "Quand meme! No de Contrecoeurtires of endeavour while life endures.... Twenty-two years, Monsieur.Look upon her!... And for one and twenty years I have forced myself tolive in hope of this moment! Do you understand?" She made a vaguegesture and shook her head. "Nobody can understand--not even I, thoughI have lived the history of many ages."
Still keeping my hand in hers, she stood there silent, looking down ather daughter. Then, silently, she knelt beside her on the softfawnskin, drawing me gently to my knees beside her.
"And you are to take her from me," she murmured.
"Madame----"
"Hush, soldier! It must be. I give her to you in gratitude--andtears.... My task is ended; yours at last begins. Out of my arms youshall take her as she promised. What has been said shall be done thisday in the V
ale Yndaia.... May God be with us all."
"Madame--when I take her--one arm of mine must remain empty--as halfher heart would be--if neither may hold you also to the end."
She bent her head; her grey eyes closed, and I saw the tears steal outalong the long, soft lashes.
"Son, if you should come to love me----"
"Madame, I love you now."
She covered her face with her slim hands; I drew it against myshoulder. A moment later Lois unclosed her eyes, looked up at us; thenrose to her knees in her white shift and put both bare arms around hermother's neck. And, kneeling so, turned her head, offering heruntouched lips to me. Thus, for the first time in our lives, we kissedeach other.
There was milk, ash-bread, corn, and fresh laid eggs for all our partywhen Lois went to the door and called, in a clear, sweet voice:
* "Nai! Mayaro! Yon-kwa-ken-nison!"
[* "Oh, Mayaro! We are all assembled!"]
Never have I seen any Indian eat as did my four warriors--the YellowMoth cleaning his bark platter, where he sat on guard upon the logs atthe pass, the others in a circle at our threshold.
Had we a siege to endure in this place, there was a store of plentyhere, not only in apple-pit and corn-pit, but in the good, dry cellarwith which the house was provided.
Truly, the Senecas had kept their Prophetess well provided; and now,before the snow of a not distant winter choked this pass, the place hadbeen provisioned from the harvest against November's wants and stress.
And it secretly amused me to note the ever latent fear born of respectwhich my Indians endeavoured not to betray when in the presence ofMadame de Contrecoeur; nor could her gentle dignity and sweetnesstoward them completely reassure them. To them a sorceress was asorceress, and must ever remain a fearsome and an awesome personage,even though it were plain that she was disposed toward them mostagreeably.
So they replied to her cautiously, briefly, but very respectfully, norcould her graciousness to the youthful Night Hawk for his unerringarrow, nor her quiet kindness toward the others, completely reassurethem. They were not accustomed to converse, much less to take theirbreakfast, with a Sorceress of Amochol, and though this dread fact didnothing alter their appetites, it discouraged any freedom ofconversation.
Lois and her mother and I understood this; Lois and I dared not laughor rally them; Madame de Contrecoeur, well versed, God knows, in Indianmanners and customs, calmly and pleasantly accepted the situation; andI think perhaps quietly enjoyed it.
But neither mother nor daughter could keep their eyes from each otherfor any length of time, nor did their soft hand-clasp loosen save for amoment now and then.
Later, Lois came to me, laid both hands over mine, looked at me amoment in silence too eloquent to misunderstand, then drew her motherwith her into the little house. And I went back on guard to join myawed red brethren.
So the soft September day wore away with nothing untoward to alarm us,until late in the afternoon we saw smoke rising above the hills to thesouthwest. This meant that our devastating army was well on its way,and, as usual, laying waste the Indian towns and hamlets which itsflanking riflemen discovered; and we all jumped up on our breastworksto see better.
For an hour we watched the smoke staining the pure blue sky; saw wherenew clouds of smoke were rising, always a little further northward. Atevening it rolled, glowing with sombre tints, in the red beams of thesetting sun; then dusk came and we could see the reflection on it ofgreat fires raging underneath.
And where we were watching it came a far, dull sound which shook theground, growing louder and nearer, increasing to a rushing, thunderinggallop; and presently we heard our riflemen running through theflat-woods after the frightened herds of horses which were bred inCatharines-town for the British service, and which had now beendiscovered and frightened by our advance.
Leaving the Mohican and the Oneidas on guard, I went out with theStockbridge, and soon came in touch with our light troops, stealingwestward through the flat-woods to surround Catharines-town.
When I returned to our breastworks, Lois and her mother were standingthere, looking at the fiery smoke in the sky, listening to the noise ofthe unseen soldiery. But on my explaining the situation, they went backto the little house together, after bidding us all good night.
So I set the first watch for the coming night, rolled myself in myblanket, and went to sleep with the lightest heart I had carried in mybreast for many a day.
At dawn I was awakened by the noise of horses and cattle and theshouting of the grass-guard, where they were rounding to the half-wildstock from Catharines-town, and our own hoofed creatures which hadstrayed in the flat-woods.
A great cloud of smoke was belching up above the trees to thenorthward; and we knew that Catharines-town was on fire, and the lastlurking enemy gone.
Long before Lois was astir, I had made my way through our swarmingsoldiery to Catharines-town, where there was the usual orderlyconfusion of details pulling down houses or firing them, troops cuttingthe standing corn, hacking apple-trees, kindling the stacked hay intoroaring columns of flame.
Regiment after regiment paraded along the stream, discharged itsmuskets, filling the forests with crashing echoes and frightening ourcattle into flight again; but they were firing only to clean out theirpieces, for the last of our enemies had pulled foot before sunset, andthe last howling Indian dog had whipped his tail between his legs andtrotted after them.
Suddenly in the smoke I saw General Sullivan, mounted, and talking withBoyd; and I hastened to them and reported, standing at salute.
"So that damned Red Sachem escaped you?" said the General, biting hislip and looking now at me, now at Boyd.
Boyd said, glancing curiously at me:
"When we came up we found the entire Tory army here. I must admit, sir,that we were an hour late, having been blocked by the passage of twohundred Hurons and Iroquois who crossed our trail, cutting us from thenorth."
"What became of them?"
"They joined Butler, Brant, and Hiokatoo at this place, General."
Then the General asked for my report; and I gave it as exactly as Icould, the General listening most attentively to my narrative, and Boyddeeply and sombrely interested.
When I ended he said:
"We have taken also a half-breed, one Madame Sacho. You say that Madamede Contrecoeur is at the Vale Yndaia with her daughter?"
"Guarded by my Indians, General."
"Very well, sir. Today we send back ten wagons, our wounded, and fourguns of the heavier artillery, all under proper escort. You will notifyMadame de Contrecoeur that there will be a wagon for her and herdaughter."
"Yes, General."
He gathered his bridle, leaned from his saddle, and looked coldly atBoyd and me.
"Gentlemen," he said, "I shall expect you to take Amochol, dead oralive, before this command marches into the Chinisee Castle. How youare to accomplish this business is your own affair. I leave you fullliberty, except," turning to Boyd, "you, sir, are not to encumberyourself again with any such force as you now have with you. Twenty menare too many for a swift and secret affair. Four is the limit--and fourof Mr. Loskiel's Indians."
He sat still, gnawing at his lip for a moment, then:
"I am sorry that, through no fault apparently of your own, thisSorcerer, Amochol, escaped. But, gentlemen, the service recognizes onlysuccess. I am always ready to listen to how nearly you failed, when youhave succeeded; I have no interest in hearing how nearly you succeededwhen you have failed. That is all, gentlemen."
We stood at salute while he wheeled, and, followed by his considerablestaff, walked his fine horse away toward the train of artillery whichstood near by, the gun-teams harnessed and saddled, the guns limberedup, drivers and cannoneers in their saddles and seats.
"Well," said Boyd heavily, "shall we be about this matter of Amochol?"
"Yes.... Will you aid me in placing Madame de Contrecoeur and herdaughter in the wagon assigned them?"
He nodded, and tog
ether we started back toward the Vale Yndaia insilence.
After a long while he looked up at me and said:
"I know her now."
"What?"
"I recognize your pretty Lois de Contrecoeur. For weeks I have beentroubled, thinking of her and how I should have known her face. Andlast night, lying north of Catharines-town, it came to me suddenly."
I was silent.
"She is the ragged maid of the Westchester hills," he said.
"She is the noblest maid that ever breathed in North America," I said.
"Yes, Loskiel.... And, that being true, you are the fittest match forher the world could offer."
I looked up, surprised, and flushed; and saw how colourless and wastedhis face had grown, and how in his eyes all light seemed quenched.Never have I gazed upon so hopeless and haunted a visage as he turnedto me.
"I walk the forests like a damned man," he said, "already conscious ofthe first hot breath of hell.... Well--I had my chance, Loskiel."
"You have it still."
But he said no more, walking beside me with downcast countenance andbrooding eyes fixed on our long shadows that led us slowly west.