The Hunters of the Hills, Joseph A. Altsheler [ereader ebook TXT] 📗

have beds here at the Inn of the Eagle," said Robert coolly—he was growing more and more the master of speech; "you can send your seconds this evening to see mine, and they will arrange everything, although I tell you now that I choose small swords. I hope my choice suits you."

"It is what I would have selected myself," said de Mézy, giving his antagonist a stare of curiosity. Such coolness, such effrontery, as he would have called it, was not customary in one so young, and in an American too, because Americans did not give much attention to the study of the sword. New thoughts raced through his head. Could it be possible that here, where one least expected it, was some marvelous swordsman, a phenomenon? Did that account for his indifference? A slight shudder passed over the frame of Jean de Mézy, who loved his dissolute life. But such thoughts vanished quickly. It could not be possible. The confidence of the young Bostonnais came from ignorance.

Robert had seen de Mézy's face fall, and he was confirmed in the course that he had chosen already.

"Gusgaesata," he said to Tayoga in Iroquois.

"Ah, the deer buttons!" the Onondaga said in English, then repeating it in French.

"You will pardon us," said Robert carelessly to de Mézy, "but Tayoga, who by the way is of the most ancient blood of the Onondagas, and I often play a game of ours after dinner."

His manner was that of dismissal, and the red in de Mézy's cheeks again turned to purple. Worst of all, the little dart of terror stabbed once more at his heart. The youth might really be the dreaded marvel with the sword. Such coolness in one so young at such a time could come only from abnormal causes. Although he felt himself dismissed he refused to go away and his satellites remained with him. They would see what the two youths meant to do.

Tayoga took from a pocket in his deerskin tunic eight buttons about three quarters of an inch in diameter and made of polished and shining elk's horn, except one side which had been burned to a darker color. From another pocket he drew a handful of beans and laid them in one heap. Then he shook the buttons in the palm of his hand, and put them down in the center of the table. Six white sides were turned up and taking two beans from the common heap he started a pile of his own. He threw again and obtained seven whites. Then he took four beans. A third throw and all coming up white twenty beans were subtracted from the heap and added to his own pile. But on the next throw only five of the whites appeared, and as at least six of the buttons had to be matched in order to continue his right of throwing he resigned his place to Robert, who threw with varying fortune until he lost in his turn to Tayoga.

"A crude Indian game," said de Mézy in a sneering tone, and the two satellites, Nemours and Le Moyne, laughed once more. Robert and Tayoga did not pay the slightest attention to them, concentrating their whole attention upon the sport, but Willet said quietly:

"I've seen wise chiefs play it for hours, and the great men of the
Hodenosaunee would be great men anywhere."

Angry words gathered on the lips of de Mézy, but they were not spoken. He saw that he was at a disadvantage, and that he would lose prestige if he kept himself in a position to be snubbed before his own people by two strange youths. At length he said: "Farewell until morning," and stalked out, followed by his satellites. Others soon followed but Robert and Tayoga went on with their game of the deer buttons. They were not interrupted until Monsieur Berryer bowed before them and asked if they would have any more refreshment.

"No, thank you," said Robert, and then he added, as if by afterthought, although he did not take his eyes from the buttons: "What sort of a man at sword play is this de Mézy?"

"Very good! Very good, sir," replied the innkeeper, "that is if his eyes and head are clear."

"Then if he is in good condition it looks as if I ought to be careful."

"Careful, sir! Careful! One ought always to be careful in a duel!"

"In a way I suppose so. Monsieur Berryer. But I fancy it depends a good deal upon one's opponent. There are some who are not worth much trouble."

Monsieur Berryer's eyes stood out. Robert had spoken with calculated effect. He knew that his words uttered now would soon reach the ears of Jean de Mézy, and it was worth while to be considered a miraculous swordsman. He had read the count's mind when he stood at his elbow, shuddering a little at the thought that a prodigy with the blade might be sitting there, and he was resolved to make the thought return once more and stay.

"And, sir, you distinguish between swordsmen, and find it necessary to make preparation only for the very best? And you so young too!" said the wondering innkeeper.

"Youth in such times as ours does not mean inexperience, Monsieur
Berryer," said Willet.

"It is true, alas!" said the innkeeper, soberly. "The world grows old, and there are seas of trouble. I wish no annoyance to any guests of mine. I know the courtesy due to visitors in our Quebec, and I would have stopped the quarrel had I been able, but the Count Jean de Mézy is a powerful man, the friend and associate of the Intendant, Monsieur Bigot."

"I understand, Monsieur Berryer," said Robert, with calculated lightness; "your courtesy is, in truth, great, but don't trouble yourself on our account. We are fully able to take care of ourselves. Come, Tayoga, we're both tired of the game and so let's to bed."

Tayoga carefully put away the deer buttons and the beans, and the three rose.

CHAPTER X THE MEETING

Only four or five men, besides themselves, were left in the great room of the Inn of the Eagle. The looks they gave the three were not hostile, and Robert judged that they belonged to the party known in Quebec as honnêtes gens and described to him already by de Galisonnière. He thought once of speaking to them, but he decided not to put any strain upon their friendliness. They might have very bitter feelings against Bigot and his corrupt following, but the fact would not of necessity induce them to help the Bostonnais.

"I thought it would be best to go to bed," he said, "but I've changed my mind. A little walk first in the open air would be good for all of us. Besides we must stay up long enough to receive the seconds of de Mézy."

"A walk would be a good thing for you," said Willet—it was noteworthy that despite his great affection for the lad, he did not show any anxiety about him.

"Your wrist feels as strong as ever, doesn't it, Robert?" he asked.

Young Lennox took his right wrist in his left hand and looked at it thoughtfully. He was a tall youth, built powerfully, but his wrists were of uncommon size and strength.

"I suppose that paddling canoes during one's formative period over our lakes and rivers develops the wrists and arms better than anything else can," he said.

"It makes them strong and supple, too," said the hunter. "It gives to you a wonderful knack which with training can be applied with equal ability to something else."

"As we know."

"As we know."

They went out and walked a little while in the streets, curious eyes still following them, a fact of which they were well aware, although they apparently took no notice of it. Willet observed Robert closely, but he could not see any sign of unsteadiness or excitement. Young Lennox himself seemed to have forgotten the serious business that would be on hand in the morning. His heart again beat a response to Quebec which in the dusk was magnificent and glorified. The stone buildings rose to the size of castles, the great river showed like silver through the darkness and on the far shore a single light burned.

A figure appeared before them. It was de Galisonnière, his ruddy face anxious.

"I was hoping that we might meet you," said Robert.

"What's this I hear about a quarrel between you and de Mézy and a duel in the morning?"

"You hear the truth."

"But de Mézy, though he is no friend of mine, is a swordsman, and has had plenty of experience. You English, or at least you English in your colonies, know nothing about the sword, except to wear it as a decoration!"

Robert laughed.

"I appreciate your anxiety for me," he said. "It's the feeling of a friend, but don't worry. A few of us in the English colonies do know the use of the sword, and at the very head of them I should place David Willet, whom you know and who is with us."

"But de Mézy is not going to fight Willet, he is going to fight you."

"David Willet has been a father to me, more, in truth, than most fathers are to their sons. I've been with him for years, Captain de Galisonnière, and all the useful arts he knows he has tried long and continuously to teach to me."

"Then you mean that the sword you now wear at your thigh is a weapon and not an ornament?"

"Primarily, yes, but before we go further into the matter of the sword,
I wish to ask you a favor."

"Ask a dozen, Lennox. We've been companions of the voyage and your quarrel with de Mézy does not arouse any hostility in me."

"I felt that it was so, and for that reason I ask the favor. We are strangers in Quebec. We did not come here to seek trouble with anybody, and so I ask you to be a second for me in this affair with de Mézy. Dave and Tayoga, of course, would act, but at the present juncture, ours being an errand of peace and not of war, I'd prefer Frenchmen."

"Gladly I'll serve you, Lennox, since you indicate that you're a swordsman and are not going to certain death, and I'll bring with me in the morning a trusty friend, Armand Glandelet, one of our honnêtes gens who likes de Mézy as little as I do."

"I thank you much, my good friend. I knew you would accept, and if all are willing I suggest that we go back now to the Inn of the Eagle."

"A little trial of the sword in your room would not hurt," said de
Galisonnière.

"That's a good suggestion," said Willet. "A few turns will show whether your wrists and your arms and your back are all right. You come with us, of course, Captain de Galisonnière."

They went to their large room, Captain de Galisonnière procuring on the way two buttons for rapiers from Monsieur Berryer—it seemed that duels were not uncommon in Quebec—and Willet and Robert, taking off their coats and waistcoats, faced each other in the light of two large candles. The young Frenchman watched them critically. He had assisted at many affairs of honor in both Quebec and Montreal and he knew the build of a swordsman when he saw one. When Robert stood in his shirt sleeves he noted his powerful chest and shoulders and arms, and then his eyes traveling to the marvelous wrists were arrested there. He drew in his breath as he saw, from the way in which Robert flexed them for a moment or two that they were like wrought steel.

"If this lad has been taught as they indicate he has, our ruffling bully, Jean de Mézy, is in for a bad half hour," he said to himself. Then he looked at Willet, built heavily, with great shoulders and chest, but with all the spring and activity of a young man. His glance passed on to Tayoga, the young Onondaga, in all the splendor of his forest attire, standing by the wall, his eyes calm and fathomless. It occurred all at once to Captain de Galisonnière that he was in the presence of an extraordinary three, each remarkable in his own way, and, liking the unusual, his interest in them deepened. It did not matter that they were his official enemies, because on the other hand they were his personal friends.

"Now, Robert," said Willet, "watch my eye, because I'm going to put