The Masters of the Peaks: A Story of the Great North Woods, Joseph A. Altsheler [the top 100 crime novels of all time txt] 📗

on him was strengthened, and these eyes were increased to the hundred of Argus and more. It became so oppressive that he was always eager to go out with the warriors in their canoes for the fishing. On Lake Ontario he was sure the eyes of the Dove could not reach him, but the work was arduous and often perilous. The great lake was not to be treated lightly. Often it took toll of the Indians who lived around its shores. Winter storms came up suddenly, the waves rolled like those of the sea, freezing spray dashed over them, and it required a supreme exertion of both skill and strength to keep the light canoes from being swamped.

Yet Robert was always happier on water than on land. On shore, confined closely and guarded zealously, his imaginative temperament suffered and he became moody and depressed, but on the lakes, although still a captive, he felt the winds of freedom. When the storms came and the icy blasts swept down upon them he responded, body and soul. Relief and freedom were to be found in the struggle with the elements and he always went back to shore refreshed and stronger of spirit and flesh. He also had a feeling that Tayoga might come by way of the lake, and when he was with the little Indian fleet he invariably watched the watery horizon for a lone canoe, but he never saw any.

The absence of news from his friends, and from the world to which they belonged, was the most terrible burden of all. If the Indians had news they told him none. He seemed to have vanished completely. But, however numerous may have been his moments of despondency, he was not made of the stuff that yields. The flexible steel always rebounded. He took thorough care of his health and strength. In his close little tepee he flexed and tensed his muscles and went through physical exercises every night and morning, but it was on the lake in the fishing, where the Indians grew to recognize his help, that he achieved most. Fighting the winds, the water and the cold, he felt his muscles harden and his chest enlarge, and he would say to himself that when the spring came and he escaped he would be more fit for the life of a free forest runner than he had ever been before. Langlade, when he returned, took notice of his increased size and strength and did not withhold approval.

"I like any prisoner of mine to flourish," he laughed. "The more superior you become the greater will be the reward for me when I dispose of you. You have found the Dove all I promised you she should be, haven't you, Monsieur Lennox?"

"All and more," replied Robert. "Although she may be out of sight I feel that her eyes are always on me, and this is true of the night as well as the day."

"A great woman, the Dove, and a wife to whom I give all credit. If it should come into the king's mind to call me to Versailles and bestow upon me some kind of an accolade perhaps Madame Langlade would not feel at home in the great palace nor at the Grand Trianon, nor even at the Little Trianon, and maybe I wouldn't either. But since no such idea will enter His Majesty's mind, and I have no desire to leave the great forests, the Dove is a perfect wife for me. She is the true wilderness helpmate, accomplished in all the arts of the life I live and love, and with the eye and soul of a warrior. I repeat, young Monsieur Lennox, where could I find a wife more really sublime?"

"Nowhere, Monsieur Langlade. The more I see you two together the more nearly I think you are perfectly matched."

The Owl seemed pleased with the recognition of his marital felicity, and grew gracious, dropping some crumbs of information for Robert. He had been to Montreal and the arrival of the great soldier, the Marquis de Montcalm, with fresh generals and fresh troops from France, was expected daily at Quebec. The English, although their fleets were larger, could not intercept them, and it was now a certainty that the spring campaign would sweep over Albany and almost to New York. He spoke with so much confidence, in truth with such an absolute certainty, that Robert's heart sank and then came back again with a quick rebound.

After a winter that had seemed to the young captive an age, spring came with a glorious blossoming and blooming. The wilderness burst into green and the great lake shining in the sun became peaceful and friendly. Warm winds blew out of the west and the blood flowed more swiftly in human veins. But spring passed and summer came. Then Langlade announced that he would depart with the best of the warriors, and that Robert would go with him, although he refused absolutely to say where or for what purpose.

Robert's joy was dimmed in nowise by his ignorance of his destination. He had not found the remotest chance to escape while in the village, but it might come on the march, and there was also a relief and pleasant excitement in entering the wilderness again. He joyously made ready, the Dove gave her lord and equal, not her master, a Spartan farewell, and the formidable band, Robert in the center, plunged into the forest.

When the great mass of green enclosed them he felt a mighty surge of hope. His imaginative temperament was on fire. A chance for him would surely come. Tayoga might be hidden in the thickets. Action brought renewed courage. Langlade, who was watching him, smiled.

"I read your mind, young Monsieur Lennox," he said. "Have I not told you that I, Charles Langlade, have the perceptions? Do I not see and interpret everything?"

"Then what do you see and interpret now?"

"A great hope in your heart that you will soon bid us farewell. You think that when we are deep in the forest it will not be difficult to elude our watch. And yet you could not escape when we were going through this same forest to the village. Now why do you think it will be easier when you are going through it again, but away?"

"The Dove is not at the end of the march. Her eyes will no longer be upon me."

The Owl laughed deeply and heartily.

"You're a lad of sense," he said, "when you lay such a tribute at the feet of that incomparable woman, that model wife, that true helpmate in every sense of the word. Why should you be anxious to leave us? I could have you adopted into the tribe, and you know the ceremony of adoption is sacred with the Indians. And let me whisper another little fact in your ear which will surely move you. The Dove has a younger sister, so much like her that they are twins in character if not in years. She will soon be of marriageable age, and she shall be reserved for you. Think! Then you will be my brother-in-law and the brother-in-law of the incomparable Dove."

"No! No!" exclaimed Robert hastily.

Now the laughter of the Owl was uncontrollable. His face writhed and his sides shook.

"A lad does not recognize his own good!" he exclaimed, "or is it bashfulness? Nay, don't be afraid, young Monsieur Lennox! Perhaps I could get the Dove to intercede for you!"

Robert was forced to smile.

"I thank you," he said, "but I am far from the marriageable age myself."

"Then the Dove and I are not to have you for a brother-in-law?" said Langlade. "You show little appreciation, young Monsieur Lennox, when it is so easy for you to become a member of such an interesting family."

Robert was confirmed in his belief that there was much of the wild man in the Owl, who in many respects had become more Indian than the Indians. He was a splendid trailer, a great hunter, and the hardships of the forest were nothing to him. He read every sign of the wilderness and yet he retained all that was French also, lightness of manner, gayety, quick wit and a politeness that never failed. It is likely that the courage and tenacity of the French leaders were never shown to better advantage than in the long fight they made for dominion in North America. Despite the fact that he was an enemy, and his belief that Langlade could be ruthless, on occasion, Robert was compelled to like him.

The journey, the destination yet unknown to him, was long, but it was not tedious to the young prisoner. He watched the summer progress and the colors deepen and he was cheered continually by the hope of escape, a fact that Langlade recognized and upon which he commented in a detached manner, from time to time. Now and then the leader himself went ahead with a scout or two and one morning he said to Robert:

"I saw something in the forest last night."

"The forest contains much," said Robert.

"But this was of especial interest to you. It was the trace of a footstep, and I am convinced it was made by your friend Tayoga, the Onondaga. Doubtless he is seeking to effect your escape."

Robert's heart gave a leap, and there was a new light in his eyes, of which the shrewd Owl took notice.

"I have heard of the surpassing skill of the Onondaga," he continued, "but I, Charles Langlade, have skill of my own. It will be some time before we arrive at the place to which we are going, and I lay you a wager that Tayoga does not rescue you."

"I have no money, Monsieur Langlade," said Robert, "and if I had I could not accept a wager upon such a subject."

"Then we'll let it be mental, wholly. My skill is matched against the combined knowledge of Tayoga and yourself. He'll never be able, no matter how dark the night, to get near our camp and communicate with you."

Although Robert hoped and listened often in the dusk for the sound of a signal from Tayoga, Langlade made good his boast. The two were able to establish no communication. It was soon proved that he was in the forest near them, one of the warriors even catching a sufficient glimpse of his form for a shot, which, however, went wild. The Onondaga did not reply, and, despite the impossibility of reaching him, Robert was cheered by the knowledge that he was near. He had a faithful and powerful friend who would help him some day, be it soon or late.

The summer was well advanced when Langlade announced that their journey was done.

"Before night," he said triumphantly, "we will be in the camp of the Marquis de Montcalm, and we will meet the great soldier himself. I, Charles Langlade, told you that it would be so, and it is so."

"What, Montcalm near?" exclaimed Robert, aflame with interest.

"Look at the sky above the tops of those trees in the east and you will see a smudge of smoke, beneath which stand the tents of the French army."

"The French army here! And what is it doing in the wilderness?"

"That, young Monsieur Lennox, rests on the knees of the gods. I have some curiosity on the subject myself."

An hour or two later they came within sight of the French camp, and Robert saw that it was a numerous and powerful force for time and place. The tents stood in rows, and soldiers, both French and Canadian, were everywhere, while many Indian warriors were on the outskirts. A large white marquee near the center he was sure was that of the commander-in-chief, and he was eager to see at once the famous Montcalm, of whom he was hearing so much. But to his intense disappointment, Langlade went into camp with the Indians.

"The Marquis de Montcalm is a great man," he said, "the commander-in-chief of all the forces of His Majesty, King Louis, in North America, and even I, Charles Langlade, will not approach him without ceremony. We will rest in the edge of the forest, and when he hears that I have come he will send for me, because he will want to know many things which none other can tell him. And it may be, young Monsieur Lennox, that, in time, he will wish to see you also."

So Robert waited with as much patience as he could muster, although he slept but little that night, the noises in the great French camp and his own curiosity keeping him awake. What was Montcalm doing so far from the chief seats of the French power in Canada, and did the English and Americans know that he was here?

Curiously enough he had little apprehension for himself, it was rather a feeling of