The Rose of Old St. Louis

by Mary Dillon

  CHAPTER VI

  WHIPPOORWILLS

  "Is this that haughty, gallant, gay Lothario?"

  It was in the third dance, in the middle of an intricate figure (andMademoiselle Chouteau was proving herself a most bewitching partner),that I suddenly discovered that neither mademoiselle nor the chevalierwas dancing; nor could I see them anywhere, though my glance shotrapidly into every leafy nook and corner.

  An unreasoning terror seized me, and with all my might I tried tothink what I could do. Should I leave my partner and fly in pursuit,as I longed to do, the figure would be broken up, and should my fearsprove unfounded I could never again hold up my head among the St.Louis maidens. Yet I thought if I waited until the dance was overthere would be time for the worst to happen, and I had promised not tolet mademoiselle out of my sight. Now did I curse my folly (with manyof my big _d_-inventions) that, since I had come to the picnic solelyto look after mademoiselle, I had allowed myself to make anyengagement with any other maiden, however bewitching.

  In my agony of indecision, though I was still going through thefigure in a dazed fashion, great drops of perspiration started out onmy brow. At that moment there came a pause in the dance, while thefigure was changing, and above the babble of talk that broke forth Iheard the distant call of a whippoorwill. It was enough. I bent lowand whispered to my partner:

  "Mademoiselle, do you think you could invent a pretext by which wecould both be excused from the dance? Could you be taken suddenlyill?"

  Mademoiselle Chouteau looked up at me quickly; I think for a momentshe thought I wanted to get her away for a cozy flirtation in a quietlittle nook, such as some of the other young couples seemed to beenjoying. But when she saw my anxious face she spoke quickly, with theprompt resource I have ever noted in young maidens:

  "Certainly, monsieur! In a moment you will see me grow quite pale, andthen we will go and ask Gabriel Cerre and Marguerite Papin to take ourplaces."

  She was as good as her word: in a moment she really seemed to me toturn pale, and she said, quite distinctly, so that those standing nearcould hear:

  "I am very tired, monsieur; I will have to ask you to excuse me fromdancing. Perhaps we can persuade another couple to take our places."

  I think Gabriel Cerre and Mademoiselle Papin were a little loath togive up their pleasant chat, but on Mademoiselle Chouteau'srepresenting that the dance would be broken up, and she was really notable to take another step, they very amiably consented to take ourplaces.

  Then I had to explain to Mademoiselle Chouteau, very hurriedly, thereason for my strange request, and in doing so I was compelled toconfide to her somewhat of my fears, and beg her to be silent if anyone should notice that I too had disappeared. She proved a good ally,and, on my expressing my perplexity as to where to look, she suddenlyremembered that she had seen mademoiselle and the chevalier, as thedance was beginning, enter the woodland path that led on around thelake to Rock Spring at its head.

  "A favorite resort for young people, and especially," she added slyly,"les amants."

  The dance had been moving rapidly and it was not yet over; they couldnot be so far away but that I could overtake them, and I felt a littlerelieved. Yet I must see Mademoiselle Chouteau disposed of among herfriends; I could not leave her discourteously, and every second ofdelay fretted me greatly. When that was accomplished, I caught Yorke'seye (for he had arrived very shortly after us, and having made himselfgenerally useful at the dejeuner, was now watching the dancers withgrinning delight), and motioned to him to follow me.

  I slipped into the woodland path, and Yorke did not keep me waitinglong. As rapidly as possible I told him my suspicions, and bade himslip into the woods where the horses were tethered and bring his ownhorse and Fatima by some roundabout way, so as to be unseen, andfollow me on the path to the head of the lake.

  It was a comfort to feel that Yorke would not be many minutes behindme, for impatient as I often was with his pranks and his eternal grin,I knew him to be a good fighter, and true as steel. Still more of acomfort was it to know Fatima would be within calling of my whistle,for I knew not into what I was going, and if those dark forestsoverhanging the cliffs on the opposite shore of the lake were as fullof the treacherous savages as the frequent call of the whippoorwillshad led me to think, I might find that the only road to safety forboth mademoiselle and myself was on Fatima's back.

  So it was with better courage (though I will not deny that my heartwas beating fast) that I set off at a round pace on the woodland pathtoward the head of the lake. I had ever an eye for the beauties ofnature, and an ear attuned to all its voices, yea, and a nostril forits sweet odors, and engrossed as I was (rushing on lest I might betoo late, yet dreading every step that I fall into some ambush ofwhippoorwills), I still could not but note how softly the November sunfell through the half-bare branches, flecking the path with shine andshadow; how glowing cardinals and flaming orioles, not yet startedsouth, flitted through the trees in rollicking sport; and how thesweet odor of dying leaves mingled with the soft call ofwood-thrushes. The cottonwoods had laid down a path of gold for me towalk upon, but, fortunately, it had rained the night before and theleaves were still damp and so did not rustle to my tread.

  I had hurried on at a breathless pace, following the path that in itsturn followed the windings of the lake for nearly a mile, whensuddenly I heard voices at no great distance ahead of me. I stoppedfor a moment, my heart beating so fast I could scarce listen. Yes, itwas a man's voice and a maiden's, speaking in low tones as if for eachother's ears alone, and I did not doubt it was mademoiselle and thechevalier.

  Now it was most distasteful to me to think of playing eavesdropper,and I was of half a mind to stop where I was and wait until they hadfinished what they had to say and were ready to return. I would atleast be near enough at hand to prevent a capture should it beattempted. But as I waited, mademoiselle's voice was suddenly raised,and I heard her say in a tone of pain:

  "Do not make me distrust my guardian! I can believe no wrong of him!He has been the only father I have known."

  I caught nothing of the chevalier's reply but the two words"interested motives"; but I thought, since it was evidently no tenderinterchange of sentiment to which I would have to listen, but therascal was maligning my good friend Dr. Saugrain, it was my duty tolisten with all my ears. I crept forward softly, fearing lest acrackling twig or a dry leaf might betray my presence, and fearing,too, since I could not discover whence the voices came, that I mightcome upon them unawares and so reveal myself.

  Which I came very near doing. Another step, and I would have steppedover the brink of a low bluff which encircled a cup-like depression. Acluster of tall oaks rose from the center of the little glen thusformed, sheltering a silvery fountain gushing from a great rock andthen, in a bright rivulet, dancing merrily over moss and stones to thelake.

  This, then, was Rock Spring, and the source of Chouteau's Pond! Asylvan retreat indeed for lovers, and I had heard it was muchfrequented by them. A fringe of crimson sumac-bushes screened the edgeof the bluff and effectually screened me from two people just belowme. I liked not to be spying, but I felt that duty and honor both, andmy pledged word to the doctor, demanded that I keep mademoiselle insight. So I cautiously leaned forward and looked.

  Mademoiselle was seated on a boulder with her face turned toward meand uplifted to the chevalier, who was standing with his back to me,looking down on her. Her dark eyes were wide and startled, full ofsurprise and pain; I was not sure but there were tears in them. Herstraight brows were drawn together in a deep furrow, and the scarletlips, usually so like a Cupid's bow, were set and stern. I wonderedwhat the chevalier could be saying in that low voice of his to moveher so deeply. As he finished, mademoiselle sprang to her feet,generous indignation in her flashing eyes and ringing tones.

  "I can never believe it! Either I have no such prospects, or he hassome good reason for not telling me yet. I will never doubt his truthand honesty!"

  Then I heard the chevalier'
s reply, low and distinct:

  "Mademoiselle, your friends in France doubt both the friends of yourfather and mother. They have sent me here to find you and bring youback with me to your rich estates, to your rank and position, and tothe friends who love you. But they know well Dr. Saugrain will neverlet go his hold on you, until he can get control of your propertyhimself, and so they have instructed me to use all caution andsecrecy.

  "In the woods yonder, on the other side of the lake, is a trustyescort to ride to Cape Girardeau, where a boat is waiting to take youto New Orleans. In New Orleans is a ship ready to sail the momentmademoiselle puts her foot upon its deck, and in a little more than amonth you will be in Paris, among friends who will receive you withoutstretched arms, surrounded by every luxury, living the life ofgrande dame as you ought to live, among the great nobles where yourightfully belong, and not in this rude, rough country among Indiansand boors. And mademoiselle will permit me to add, there is no greatlady in France so fitted by nature to adorn her high station as she.She will have all Paris at her feet. Come with me now, mademoiselle!There is no time to be lost! Any moment we may be interrupted and itmay be too late."

  My eyes did not leave mademoiselle's face through all this longspeech, and I saw her expression slowly change. The generousindignation was still there, but I saw that the picture that hepresented of the life that awaited her in Paris began to fascinateher. She spoke slowly and doubtfully:

  "I will tell Dr. and Madame Saugrain all you have told me, and if itis right, they will let me go with you. I will not doubt my friends."

  The villain saw that he was gaining ground:

  "They are not your friends! They are your bitterest foes. They arekeeping you from everything that will make your life grand andbeautiful, with the hope of their own gain some day. They will neverlet you go! If home and Paris and friends and wealth and rank andpower are to be won at all, it must be at once. Five minutes more maybe too late. That boy [with infinite scorn] may have discovered yourabsence and come to seek you."

  Suddenly the chevalier dropped on one knee, his hand on his heart. Iturned quickly away (for I would not listen to what I feared would bea declaration of love), and, as I turned, I saw Yorke coming up thepath, leading the two horses, who were picking their way as cautiouslyas if they knew the occasion demanded the utmost secrecy. I motionedto Yorke to leave the horses where they were (I knew they were sotrained they would stand perfectly still without tying) and to comesilently to me. I felt that the moment of rescue could not be fardistant.

  He had crept cautiously up just as the chevalier ceased speaking. Iwas intent on noting the position of the horses and forming a plan ofrescue, and so did not observe Yorke, or I might have prevented whatfollowed. He had stolen up softly behind me, and, unconscious that hewas on the edge of a bluff, had stepped a step beyond me. Of course hewent over at once, heels over head, turning a complete somersault,and alighted erect, astride the neck of the kneeling chevalier.

  At his terrified cry I turned quickly, just in time to see him alight;and if it had been a time for laughing it would have been a funnysight indeed: the look of startled terror on mademoiselle's facegradually changing in spite of herself to one of convulsive merriment;the chevalier, his nose ground in the dust, squirming helplessly andsputtering vigorously in French; and, lastly, the big black, the whiteballs of his eyes almost starting from his head in amazement andfright, and a ceaseless torrent of ejaculations pouring through hiswhite teeth!

  "Oh! Oh, Lordy! Oh, my gracious! Oh, de good Lord! Oh, massy!"

  Yet he made no effort to rise, and I began to suspect he was enjoyingthe situation, for the more vigorously the Frenchman sputtered thelouder the negro bellowed.

  It was time for me to interpose, but I wished to avoid the appearanceof having been spying on them, with Yorke, from above, otherwise Icould easily have leaped down the low bluff. Looking around hastily, Idiscovered, what I had not noted before, that the main path led aroundthe foot of the bluff into the little glen from below. I had followeda branch of it in coming to the top of the bluff. I ran quickly downto the lower entrance of the glen, but there I stopped a moment toassume an air as of one leisurely strolling. I did not pretend to seethe group until I was well into the glen where I could also be seen.Then I struck an attitude of intense surprise for mademoiselle'sbenefit (who by this time had caught sight of me), and when I hadsufficiently recovered from the surprise for utterance, I spoke toYorke in tones of stern command:

  "What are you doing, sir, on monsieur's back? Have you taken him for ahorse? Or a donkey? Off, sir, this moment, and make your humbleapologies to the chevalier."

  Yorke was not much afraid of my stern tone. Still yelling bloodymurder, he contrived a most audacious wink with the eye next to me,but he tumbled off slowly, and then I hastened to help the chevalierto his feet. He was a sorry spectacle, and I saw mademoiselle's lookof suppressed amusement change to pity and concern. Blood was gushingfrom his nose all over his fine clothes, and his face was so begrimedand gory it would have been impossible to guess it was the dapperParisian.

  But he was in such a blind rage that for once he ignored his clothes.Stanching the blood as best he could with his flimsy lacehandkerchief, he poured out a torrent of abuse in mingled French andEnglish, on Yorke and on me, but principally on me. I tried tointerpose a polite word of regret, but he would not listen to me.

  "You air a sneak, a cowaird, sir! You spy on mademoiselle and me!Cowair-r-r-d! I will have the satisfaction! Sacre Dieu! You have nodoubt told the negro to leap upon my back! I will have r-r-r-evenge!"

  And as if reminded by that last word, he turned to mademoiselle andspoke in French:

  "Fly with me at once, mademoiselle! You will not stay to be at themercy of a sneaking spy. See! I will call my red friends. Do not beafraid! They will carry you off, but I will be with you, and we willfind horses and fly."

  And without waiting for an answer he turned and imitated three timesthe call of a whippoorwill.

  I knew what that meant--that in a moment the Osages would be upon us;and hardly had his first call left his lips before I too had turnedand uttered the shrill whistle that always brought Fatima to my side.

  As I knew, the last whippoorwill call had not died away when from thewoods on the opposite side of the lake, silently, swiftly stole firstone dark figure and then another, until at least a dozen savages,armed and painted, were bearing down upon us with the fleetness ofdeer. In a moment more they would be upon us, and neither Yorke's lifenor mine would be worth the asking, and, what was far harder tocontemplate, mademoiselle would be captive in their hands.

  She stood for a moment petrified with horror at the sight of theswiftly advancing savages, and then she turned to me in an agony ofentreaty.

  "Oh, fly, fly at once!" she said, "you and your black man, before itis too late."

  I turned to Yorke:

  "Go as mademoiselle bids you; get your horse and fly."

  Yorke tried to remonstrate, but I would not let him open his lips.

  "No; you will only hinder me now. If worse comes to worst, you can atleast bear the news. Go at once!" And without waiting for furtherorders, Yorke turned, scrambled up the face of the bluff, and was off.

  "But you will go, too!" she cried, as I turned again to her.

  "And leave you?"

  "Oh, do not mind me! They will not hurt me!" And then, as I stoodperfectly still, with my pistols ready, but with no intention ofleaving her to the tender mercies of the savages and the savagemercies of the chevalier, she grew desperate, grasping my arm andtrying with her feeble strength to push me toward safety.

  "I implore you," she entreated, "if you have any feeling of friendshipfor me, fly before it is too late!"

  "Mademoiselle," I said, "I stir not one step from this spot unless yougo with me."

  "I will but hinder you," she cried, "and prevent all possibility ofescape. Oh, do not stay for me!"

  "Mademoiselle," said the chevalier, who had been enjoying this scene,
with no attempt at concealing his relish for it, "go with monsieur,since he desires it."

  Even as he spoke, the first of the Osages darted into the glen; theothers were close at his heels; but at the same moment from theentrance of the glen nearer to us came the thunder of hoofs, andFatima was at my side, her eyes flashing, her hoofs pawing the earth,her nostrils snorting with rage: for well she guessed that paintedsavages meant danger to her master.

  I was on her back in a moment, and, stooping, lifted mademoiselleswiftly to the crupper in front of me. Holding her there with my leftarm, I wheeled Fatima with the one word of command, "Go!" and turningmy head as she flew over the rough earth, I leveled my pistol at thechevalier.

  "Do not stir, monsieur, at the peril of your life!" I called to him,and kept him covered as we flew. I knew the savages were running totry to head me off but I paid no attention to them until, rounding agreat boulder, the chevalier (his face ghastly with rage anddisappointed revenge, for so sudden had it all been he had had no timeeven to draw his pistol to prevent the rescue until too late) was outof my range, as we were out of his. Then, turning my pistol swiftly onthe Osage in the lead,--none too soon, for his rifle was leveled atus,--I fired. The poor fellow fell forward with a wild yell thatturned my heart sick; yet none the less, the others rushing on withtheir wild whoops to avenge him, I drew my second pistol and firedonce more.

  But I knew not with what result, for mademoiselle, with a convulsiveshudder and a look of mortal woe, cried out:

  "You have killed the chevalier!"

  "No, mademoiselle," I answered grimly; "I have killed the poorwhippoorwill you asked me for"; and then had all I could do withoutpaying any more attention to the savages, for mademoiselle had faintedand lay like one dead on my arm, her white face upturned to mine, herlong black lashes sweeping the marble cheeks, and the dark curlsfalling backward from the white brow and floating on the wind, asFatima flashed along the woodland path like a swallow on the wing.