“Quiet, Ban!” said Nicole; and the huge beast, with a puppy-whine of delight, fell fawning at his knees. We were close to the house. Nicole stopped, and pointed to a cabin just visible at the foot of a long slope falling away to our right.
“Julie’s brother may chance to be there, Master Paul,” said he. “He is known for his devotion to Monsieur Anderson, whom few of us love. I will go wake the lad, if he’s there, while you rouse the master.”
“If you should fail to get back this way, my friend,” said I, “let us meet, say, at the boat.”
“Yes, at the boat,” he answered confidently.
I paused, partly to get breath, partly to follow him with a look of grateful admiration, the 126modest, still, strong, faithful retainer, of a type nigh vanished. He ran with his black-shock head thrust forward, and the great dog bounded beside him like a kitten.
It was the last I ever saw of Nicole Brun; nor to this day, for all my searching, have I had word of what befell him. Of the dog I learned something, seeing his skin, a year later, worn upon the shoulders of an Indian boy of the Micmac settlement. From this I could make shrewd guess at the fate of my Nicole; but the Indian lies astutely, and I could prove nothing. Sleep well, Nicole, my brave and true!
George Anderson’s wide red door carried a brass knocker which grinned venomously in the moonlight. My first summons brought no answer. Then I thundered again, imperatively, and I heard Anderson’s voice within, calling to servants. No servants made reply, so again I hammered, and shook fiercely at the door. Then he came himself, looking bewildered.
“Monsieur Grande, pardon me! The servants”—
“The servants have fled,” I interrupted. “Come quickly! There is not a minute to lose. The abbé’s savages are near. They are coming to scalp you and burn your house. We will leave them the house.”
There was no sign of fear on his face, merely 127annoyance; and I saw that his mind worked but heavily.
“Come in!” he said, leading the way into a wide room looking out upon the Kenneticook tide. “I won’t be driven by those curs. They dare not touch me. At the worst, with the help of the servants we can fight them off. Sit down, monsieur.”
And he proceeded calmly to pull on his boots.
I had followed him inside, wild at his obstinacy.
“I tell you,” said I, “they want your scalp. The servants are traitors and have stolen away while you slept. We are alone. Come, man, come! Would you have my throat cut, too?” And I shook him by the shoulder.
“Why have you come?” he asked, unmoved, staring at me.
“For the sake of Yvonne de Lamourie!”
“Oh!” said he, eying me with a slow hostility.
“You fool!” I exclaimed. “They have burned De Lamourie’s. I swore to Yvonne de Lamourie that I would save you or die with you. If you think she loves you, stir yourself. I cannot carry you. Look at that!”
I pointed to the window. At Yvonne’s name he had risen to his feet. He looked out. A group of canoes was turning in to shore, not two furlongs distant.
128“Where is she?” he inquired, alert at last.
“Safe,” said I curtly, “at Father Fafard’s.”
Still he wavered, brave, but undecided. I think he wondered why I was her chosen messenger.
“She is in a frenzy at your peril,” I said, though the words stuck in my throat. That moved him. His face lighted with boyish pleasure.
“Come!” he cried, as if he had been urging me all the time. “We’ll slip out at the back, and keep the buildings between us and the river till we reach the woods.”
“Have you no weapon?” I asked.
“No,” said he, “but this will do,” and he picked up a heavy oak stick from behind the door of the room.
Great as was the haste, I told him to lock the main door. Then as we slipped out at the back we locked the kitchen door behind us. I knew this would delay the chase; whereas if they found the doors open they would realize at once the escape of their intended victim and rush in pursuit, leaving the little matter of the fire to be seen to afterwards.
From the back door we darted to the garden, a thicket of pole beans and hops and hollyhocks. From the furthest skirt of these shelters we ran along a ditch that fenced a field of growing buckwheat, not yet high enough to give covert; but I think we kept well in shadow of the house all the 129way to the woods. If afterwards our enemies tracked us with what seemed a quite unnecessary promptitude and ease, it must be remembered that our trail was not obscure.
I led the flight, intending we should strike the creek at some distance above the boat and make our way down to it along the water’s edge, to cover our traces. The more we could divide our pursuers, the better would be our chances in the struggle, if overtaken. The pace I set was a sharp one, and soon, as I could perceive by his breathing, began to tell upon my heavy-limbed and unhardened companion. I slackened gradually, that he might not think I did it on his account.
In a very few minutes there arose behind us, coming thinly through the trees, the screeching war-whoop of the Micmacs, which has ever seemed to me more demoniacal and inhuman than even that of the Iroquois. Then, when we took time to glance over our shoulders, we marked a red glare climbing slowly. I judged that our escape was by this time discovered, and the wolves hot upon our trail.
To my companion, however, the sight brought a different thought.
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