A Little Girl in Old St. Louis

by Amanda M. Douglas

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE SURPRISE

  There was, it is true, a side not so simple and wholesome, and this hadbeen gathering slowly since the advent of the governor. More drunken menwere seen about the levee. There was talk of regular orgies taking placeat the government house, and the more thoughtful men, like theChouteaus, the Guerins, the Guions, and the Lestourniers, had to workhard to get the fortifications in any shape, and the improvements madewere mostly done by private citizens.

  Of course there were many rumors, but old St. Louis rested securely onher past record. What the people about her were losing or gaining didnot seem to trouble her. Now and then a river pirate was caught, orthere was some one tripped up and punished who had traded unlawfully.

  This had been the case with a French Canadian named Ducharme, who hadbeen caught violating the treaty law, trading with Indians in Spanishterritory, and giving them liberal supplies of rum in order to makebetter bargains with furs. His goods were seized and confiscated, but hewas allowed to go his way, breathing threats of retaliation.

  France had recognized the independence of the colonies, which hadstirred up resentment in the minds of many of the English in northernMichigan. It was said an English officer at Michilimackinac had formed aplan of seizing or destroying some of the western towns and stationswhere there was likely to be found booty enough to reward them. Ducharmejoined the scheme eagerly and gathered roving bands of Ojibways.Winnebagoes and Sioux, and by keeping well to the eastern side of theMississippi marched down nearly opposite Gabaret Island, and crossedover to attack the town.

  Corpus Christi was a great festival day of the church. Falling late inMay, on the 25th, it was an out-of-doors entertainment. After mass hadbeen said in the morning, women and children, youths and maidens, andhusbands who could be spared from business, went out for a whole day'spleasure with baskets and bags of provisions.

  The day was magnificent. The fragrance of spruce and fir, the breath ofthe newly grown grasses, the bloom of trees and flowers, was like themost exhilarating perfume, and stirred all the senses.

  Spies had crept down the woods to reconnoitre and assure themselvestheir arrival had not been suspected. It seemed indeed an opportunemoment. It was now mid-afternoon. There had been dancing and merriment,the children had run and played, gathered wild strawberries and flowers,and some of the more careful ones had collected their little childrenand started homeward.

  To the westward was Cardinal Spring, owned by a man of that name, butconsidered free property. He and another hunter had been shooting game,and as he stooped for a drink his companion espied an Indian cautiouslycreeping through the trees.

  "Indians! Indians!" he shouted, and fired.

  Cardinal snatched up his gun, but a storm of bullets felled him. Rivierewas captured. A young Frenchman, catching sight of the body of Indians,gave the alarm.

  "Run for your lives! Fly to the fort!" he shouted.

  There were men working in the fields, and nearly every one took his gun,as much for the chance at game as any real fear of Indians. They coveredthe retreat a little, and as this was a reconnoitring party, the mainbody was at some distance.

  "Fly! Fly!" Men who had no weapons caught little ones in their arms andran toward the fort. All was wild alarm.

  "What is it?" cried Colonel Chouteau, who had been busy with some papersof importance.

  "The Indians! The Indians!" shouted his brother.

  "Call out the militia! Where is the Governor?"

  "In his own house, drunk as usual," cried Pierre indignantly, and he ranto summon the soldiers.

  There had been a small body of troops under the command of CaptainCartabona, a Spaniard sent from Ste. Genevieve at the urgent request ofthe chief citizens, but it being a holiday they were away, some canoeingdown the river or fishing, and of the few to be found most of them werepanic stricken. The captain had been having a carouse with the Governor.

  "Then we must be our own leaders. To arms! to arms! every citizen! It isfor your wives and children!" was the inspiriting cry.

  "You shall be our leader!" was shouted in one voice almost before theColonel had ceased. For Colonel Chouteau was not only admired for hisfriendliness and good comradeship, but trusted to the last degree.

  Every man rushed for his gun and ran to the rescue, hardly knowing whathad happened save that the long-feared attack had come upon themunawares. They poured out of the fort, but the flying women and childrenwere in the advance with the Indians back of them.

  Colonel Chouteau marshalled his little force in a circuitous movement,and opened a volley that took the Indians by surprise. They fell backbrandishing their arms and shouting to their companions to come on. Thenthe Colonel saw that it was no mere casual attack, but a premeditatedonslaught. Already bodies were lying on the ground struggling in deathagonies.

  The aim was so good that the assailants halted, then fell back to waitfor their companions. This gave most of the flying and terrified throngan opportunity to reach the fort. For the wounded nothing could be doneat present.

  Now the streets were alive with men who had no time to pick out theirown families, but ran, musket or rifle in hand, to man the fort. ColonelChouteau and his brother Pierre were experienced artillerists, andstationed themselves at the cannon.

  The Indians held a brief colloquy with the advancing body. Then it wasseen that an attack was determined upon. They approached the fort,headed by several white leaders, and opened an irregular fire on theplace.

  "Let them approach nearer," commanded the Colonel. The walls of thestockade and the roofs of the nearest houses were manned with theresidents of the town. A shower of arrows fell among them. Surprised atno retaliation, the enemy ventured boldly, headed by Ducharme.

  Then the cannons poured out their volley, which swept down the foremost.From the roofs muskets and guns and even pistols made a continuingchorus. Ducharme fell. Two of the white leaders were wounded also. Thenanother discharge from the cannons and the red foes fell back. The planhad been to wait until almost dusk for the attack, but the incident atthe spring had hastened it.

  Ducharme had not counted on the strength of the fort, and he knew thetown was but poorly supplied with soldiers, so he had persuaded theIndians it would fall an easy prey and give them abundant pillage. Butthe roar and the execution of the cannon dismayed them, and many of themfled at once. Others marched slowly, helping some of the wounded.

  General Cartabona came out quite sobered by the fierceness of theattack.

  "Would it not be well to order a pursuit?" he questioned.

  "And perhaps fall into a trap!" returned Colonel Chouteau with a touchof scorn. "No, no; let us bring in the wounded as we can."

  Gaspard Denys had been among the first to rush to the defence of thetown. Marchand had gone out with the party, and Mere Lunde was to carefor Renee. He had not stopped to look or inquire. He saw Madame Renaud.

  "Oh, thank heaven my children are safe! But Barbe! I cannot find Barbe!"she cried.

  "And Renee?" his voice was husky.

  "She was with the Marchands. They were going to the woods. Oh, M'sieuDenys, what a horrible thing! And we felt so safe. The Indians have beenso friendly. But can you trust them?"

  He was off to look after the wounded. A number were lying dead on thefield. No, Renee was not among them. They carried the wounded in gently,the dead reverently. The good priest proffered his services, and Dr.Montcrevier left his beloved experiments to come and minister to them.The dead were taken to the church and the priest's house.

  All was confusion, however. Darkness fell before families were reunited.Children hid away in corners crying, and were too terrified to come outeven at the summons of friendly voices. Colonel Chouteau and his brotherwere comforting, aiding, exhorting, and manning the fort anew. GeneralCartabona set guards at the gates and towers, for no one knew what mighthappen before morning.

  Denys had hurried home as soon as he could be released. "Renee!" hecalled. "Mere Lunde!" but no one replied. He
searched every nook andcorner. He asked the Pichous. No one had seen them. A great pang renthis heart. And yet--they might have hidden in the forest. Ah, God sendthat they might not be taken prisoners! But Marchand was with them. Heknew the man's courage well. He would fight to the death for them.

  "I must go out and search," he said in a desperate tone. "Who willaccompany me?"

  A dozen volunteered. They were well armed, and carried a rude lanternmade of tin with a glass in one side only. They saw now that their firehad done good execution among their red foes. The trampled ground showedwhich way the party had gone, and they were no longer in sight.

  "Let us try the woods. They came by the way of the spring," said one ofthe party.

  They found the body of Cardinal and that of an old man, both dead. Theyplunged into the woods, and, though aware of the danger, Denys shoutednow and then, but no human voice replied. Here, there, examining somethicket, peering behind a clump of trees, startling the denizen of thewoods, or a shrill-voiced nighthawk, and then all was silence again.

  They left the woods and crossed the strip of prairie. Here lay somethingin the grass--a body. Denys turned it over.

  "My God!" he exclaimed in a voice of anguish. "It is Francois Marchand."

  He dropped on the ground overwhelmed. If he was dead, then the otherswere prisoners. There was no use to search farther to-night. To-morrow ascouting party might go out.

  They made a litter of the men's arms and carried Marchand back to thefort, to find that he was not dead, though he had a broken leg and hadreceived a tremendous blow on the head.

  A sad morning dawned over St. Louis, where yesterday all had been joy.True, it might have been much worse. In all about a dozen had beenkilled, but the wounded and those who had fallen and been crushed in theflight counted up many more. And some were missing. What would be theirfate? And oh, what would happen to Wawataysee if some roving Indianshould recognize her! As for Renee, if he had not wholly understoodbefore, he knew now how the child had twined herself about his heart,how she had become a part of his life.

  Marchand's blow was a dangerous one. The Garreaus insisted upon nursingand caring for him, but Madame Garreau was wild about the beautifulWawataysee. She knew the Indian character too well to think they wouldshow her any mercy, if she was recognized by any of the tribe. AndRenee, what would be her fate?

  General Cartabona was most anxious to make amends for past negligence.The militia was called to a strict account and recruited as rapidly aspossible, and the fortifications made more secure. He took counsel withColonel Chouteau, who had the best interests of the town at heart.

  "We must make an appeal for the Governor's removal," insisted theColonel. "It is not only this cowardly episode, but he is narrow-mindedand avaricious, incompetent in every respect, and drunk most of thetime. He cares nothing for the welfare of the town, he takes no interestin its advancement. After such men as Piernas and Cruzat he is mostdespicable. Any Frenchman born would serve Spain better."

  "That is true. I will head a petition of ejectment, and make it strongenough to be heeded."

  The dead were buried, the living cared for. Even the fallen enemies hadbeen given decent sepulture outside the town. And Gaspard Denys feltthat he must start on his journey of rescue, if indeed that waspossible.

  He chose two trusty young fellows, after shutting his house securely,providing his party with ammunition, and provisions for a part of theirjourney, as much as they could carry. He found the Indians had boats inwaiting on the Illinois River, and after proceeding some distance theyhad separated in two parties, going in different directions. Some of theprisoners had been left here, as they did not care to be bothered withthem.

  The one party kept on up the river. They learned there were some womenwith them, and were mostly Indians. It was not an easy trail to follow.There had been a quarrel and another separation, a drunken debauch, partstopping at an Indian village. And here Denys heard what caused himalmost a heart-break.

  They had fallen in with some Hurons who had bought two of the captives.An old woman was set free with two men and sent down the river. Theothers were going up north.

  "It is as I feared, Jaques," he said. "They will carry Madame Marchandto her old home as a great prize. Ah, if Francois were only well! But Ishall go on for life or death. I will not ask you to share my perils.Wawataysee came from somewhere up by the straits. She ran away withMarchand. She was to be married to an old Indian against her will. Andno doubt he will be wild with gratification at getting her back, andwill treat her cruelly. The child is mine and I must save her from alike fate. But you and Pierre may return. I will not hold you bound byany promises."

  "I am in for the adventure," and Pierre laughed, showing his whiteteeth. "I am not a coward nor a man to eat one's words. I am fond ofadventure. I will go on."

  "I, too," responded Jaques briefly.

  "You are good fellows, both of you. I shall pray for your safe return,"Denys said, much moved by their devotion.

  "And we have no sweethearts," subjoined Pierre with a touch of mirth."But if I could find one as beautiful and sweet as Madame Marchand Ishould be paid for a journey up to Green Bay."

  "It might be dangerous," said Denys sadly.

  He wondered if it was really Mere Lunde they had set free. It would beagainst her will, he was sure, and it would leave the two quitedefenceless. A thousand remembrances haunted him day and night. He couldsee Renee's soft brown eyes in the dusk, he could hear her sweet voicein the gentle zephyrs, that changed and had no end of fascinating tones.All her arch, pretty moods came up before him, her little piquantjealousies, her pretty assumptions of dignity and power, her dainty,authoritative ways. Oh, he could not give her up, his little darling.

  There was sorrow in more than one household in old St. Louis, but timesoftened and healed it. And now the inhabitants congratulated themselveson their freedom heretofore from raids like these. Towns had beendestroyed, prisoners had been treated to almost every barbarity. Givingup their lives had not been the worst.

  But the summer came on gloriously, and Colonel Chouteau made many plansfor the advancement of the town. He was repairing the old house wherehis friend had lived, and improving the grounds, and everyone felt thatin him they had a true friend.

  One July day three worn and weary people came in at the northern gate,and after the guards had looked sharply at them there was a shout ofjoy. Pierre Duchesne, whose family had lived on a faint hope, youngNormand Fleurey, and Mere Lunde, looking a decade older and morewrinkled than ever.

  She sat down on a stone and wept while the sounds of joy andcongratulation were all about her.

  Who could give her any comfort? She suffered Gaspard Denys's pain aswell as her own. And though there had been adventures and hiding fromroving Indians, living on barks and roots, she could not tell them overwhile her heart was so sore.

  She went to the old house, where the three had known so much content.

  "He will come back some day," she said, "but the child--" and her voicewould break at that.

  She heard Marchand had been very ill with a fever, beside the wounds. Hehad come near to losing his leg, and was still a little lame, and veryweak and heartbroken. His wife had been torn from his arms when anIndian had given him the blow on his head with a club, and there memoryhad stopped. Though Mere Lunde would talk to no one else, to him shetold the sad story. And he had been lying helpless all the timeWawataysee had been in such danger! Yes, he knew what would happen toher now, but presently he would go up to the strait and never rest untilhe had killed all who worked her ill. Oh, if she had fallen into thehands of her old tribe!

  That thought was madness. But he understood what the courage of herdespair would be. She would not suffer any degradation, death would be aboon instead. Ah, if he could have joined Denys! He knew the cruelty andtreachery of those whose hands she had fallen into. And the child!

  But it would be useless to start disabled as he was, although his angerwas fierce enough, and Denys was we
ll on the journey. Yet it wasterrible to wait with awful visions before his eyes. He had seen bothmen and women tortured, and the agonies prolonged with fiendish delight.

  Mere Lunde opened the house and cleared up the dust and disorder. Thegarden was overgrown with weeds and everything was running riot.Marchand insisted upon lending a helping hand here. Many an evening theysat in the doorway wondering, hoping and despairing.