Читать книгу Diane of Ville Marie - Blanche Lucile Macdonnell - Страница 6
ОглавлениеAN IROQUOIS ATTACK.
DESPITE the beauty of the scene just described, Bibelot, the dog, was plainly dissatisfied with the existing order of things. She was a direct descendant of Pilot, one of a number of dogs sent from France to Ville Marie shortly after its foundation in order to assist the brave colonists in their warfare against the Indians. Detesting the savages by instinct, these trusty animals were invaluable in detecting ambuscades. Bibelot now ran here and there, her bushy tail raised high and curled like a feather over her back, her slender, alert head and bright eyes full of keen interest, sniffing among the grass and branches as though solicitous of some trail of fox or rabbit. Game abounded in the woods; from where she stood Diane could see a great herd of elk defile quietly between the water and the forest.
The dog’s persistent uneasiness attracted Diane’s attention. Suddenly the long-drawn, melancholy cry of a water-fowl fell upon her ear. The sound might have passed unheeded by faculties less keen and highly strung; but as she started at the cry, Bibelot, throwing back her head and quivering all over with rage, uttered a low, deep growl. The call was repeated several times. Could it be a signal? The dog’s excitement seemed to warrant the supposition. As she gazed apprehensively about her, the trunk of a fallen tree, lying on the ground close at hand, seemed to Diane to stir. Was imagination playing her false? The girl had grown up amidst the constant dangers of the adventurous colonial life. She knew well that the Iroquois roamed through the deserted settlements and prowled continually around the forts. No one could account for the mysterious movements of these agile warriors, nor for the subtlety and malice of their stratagems. She now stood perfectly still as if she were a figure painted on the pale green background. The heart beat high in her breast, the color came and went in her cheek. A gray squirrel with small bright eyes scudded through the grass close beside her. At that instant the log moved again, this time with a hasty, impulsive jerk. There was no doubt but that in the hollow trunk an Indian lay concealed. Immediately the loud clamor of Bibelot’s bark rang out, clear and distinct. Quick as a gleam of light the forest was alive with shadowy figures moving stealthily and silently among the trees. Diane saw that her only chance of escape lay in immediate action, and that the lives of those in the fort might depend upon her presence of mind. She understood but too well the nameless horrors which captivity among the savages meant—death was nothing in comparison.
“Aux armes! aux armes!” the girlish voice rang out in clear, piercing tones. Bibelot’s resounding howls were lost in the din as the Indians, uttering their appalling yells, dashed towards her. Like an arrow from a bow, fleet as a young fawn, Diana sprang forward, several of the dusky braves starting in hot pursuit. She had some advantage of distance in the start, but so close were her pursuers that the slightest hesitation, a false step, a slip on the sunburnt grass, would prove fatal. The footsteps of her foremost pursuer fell with growing clearness upon her ears. With every muscle strained to its utmost tension on she flew, all the while conscious that the foe was steadily gaining upon her. She had almost reached the threshold of the fort when, shouting his own name in the Indian fashion, the Iroquois stretched out his hand to grasp her shoulder. She could feel the touch of his fingers upon the lace border of the kerchief she wore around her neck. At this instant the report of a pistol rang out. With a sharp, convulsive shudder the savage sprang high in the air and fell prostrate to the ground, as Diane, breathless and trembling, was drawn into the fort by du Chesne.
A prescient excitement blazed in the young man’s eyes. His spirited face was full of resolution and confidence.
“Fear not, Diane,” he said, as he barricaded the door, “there are not a great number of Iroquois gathered outside, and they rarely attack a fort. Our most serious danger is that the sound of the guns may induce my father to return, and that from the shore they will fire upon the boats. We are safe enough here, but we must not allow them to suspect that our garrison is so small. I have already posted the men; we can only await the attack.”
Diane sank down faint and sick, yet with a sweet consolatory thought underlying her physical weakness. Whatever might happen she would not be obliged to endure alone; she could depend upon a sympathy and companionship she highly prized.
“And Jean, where is he?” du Chesne continued, as though he wished to give her time to recover herself. “Pasembleau! that lazy varlet has no heart for fighting; that I’ll swear. Nanon, thou canst manage an arquebus as well as any man among them. My brave girl, we will need thy help.”
Nanon’s black eyes darted furious glances as she ground her teeth in sheer wrath.
“Yes, Monsieur, I am capable of that, and may I put an end to one of these sorcerers, these brigands, with every shot I fire! My hairs are all rubbed the wrong way at the sight of these wolves. Chut! Mademoiselle, why so pale? I think little of these affairs, me; still there is no laughing under the nose when it relates to the Iroquois. Sit far back if you would not see, and for a high-born demoiselle I grant—”
“No, Nanon,” Diane interposed, repulsing the well-intentioned offers of assistance. “Whatever befalls the others I share, since our lot has been cast together.”
With an exultant throb the girl’s spirit leaped free from its chains. Amidst these perilous circumstances she was conscious of feeling a perfect courage and serenity. Turning his head, du Chesne smiled at her tone.
“Place yourself behind me, Diane; you can help by loading as I fire. We will stand on our defence. These wolves will lurk about and try to climb into the fort under the cover of darkness. We must not permit them to approach, lest they set fire to the roof.”
The Iroquois showed no disposition to retire, but commenced industriously to erect barricades of stones and bushes, as though notwithstanding the check they had encountered they were resolved to begin a prolonged siege.
“It looks as though it may be late before we reach Ville Marie. B-r-r-r-r! The tongue of our good Nanon goes like the clapper of a mill. Well, she amuses the soldiers, and she is as ready to aid with the hands as the voice. These savages take us for targets, do they? When the violins play, then is the time to dance.”
Bibelot kept up a continuous barking, which added to the tumult. Nanon’s wrathful denunciations of the enemy delighted the soldiers and soothed her own nerves, even if they failed to annihilate the assailants. Thus the little party contrived to keep up their spirits.
Diane, keeping close behind du Chesne, loading one gun as he fired another, standing ready to obey his behests, had time to think of many things. Her eyes rested upon the young man with growing amazement. It was an hour of revelation. All the careless boyishness of his face had been replaced by an expression keen, stern, resolute; his eyes flamed with a light which was almost cruel in its intensity. There was something splendid in the stalwart pride of courage. Watching this novel moulding of the familiar features, the girl was beset by a strange sense of unreality. This was no longer her boyish comrade whom she had teased and flattered and cajoled; this was a man strong to command, to defy fate, who would rise equal to every crisis, and who would grow with every emergency. An absorbing feeling took possession of Diane’s mind, her heart swelled with a new spring of impassioned emotion, a subtle intoxication mounted like fire to her brain. It dawned upon her that du Chesne was a hero, and that he had counted her worthy of aiding him in his extremity. This thought flushed her horizon with the sunshine of heroic impulse. Her face was full of a tense eagerness, almost beyond the artifices of concealment. Once speaking, she ventured rather breathlessly:
“Gentlemen are born to shed their blood for God and the King.”
“That goes without saying,” he replied quietly. Du Chesne had had so much experience of Indian warfare that he accepted encounters such as this as a matter of course. “When the end has to come, a day sooner or later, what does it matter?” Then his buoyant temperament reasserting itself, he added, “Bah! Diane, our hour is not yet. You looked so pale and so serious you made me almost shiver. This is but a brush with these wolves. Very different would it be were we out in the open, far from the protection of the fort; then would there be occasion for grimaces. What is that? Look, Diane!” Then his voice rose in a glad cry. His keen eyes had discovered a swarm of canoes, thick as a flight of blackbirds in autumn, on the waters of the Ottawa.
“Aid is at hand! I was not sure that this might not be a reinforcement of Iroquois, in which case we were lost; but no, these are our own allies. Saved! Do you hear, Diane? Saved!”
Diane sank on her knees. Her face shone with that spiritual light with which at moments of supreme feeling the soul illumines its earthly tenement.
“The good Lord has saved us from the hands of our enemies.” The girl could have wept with thankfulness and delight, but controlled herself by an effort.
“Aye, and our lady of Bonsecours shall have three as fine waxen tapers burning before her shrine as money can buy, and that before the week is out,” Nanon protested excitedly. “I make no clamor for all the world to hear, like that vulture Mam’selle Anne, but I make my religion all the same. Never could I believe that the holy saints could be so ungrateful and inconsiderate as to refuse to listen to the prayers of my demoiselle.”
