Casper Daily Tribune Newspaper, January 2, 1917, Page 2

“S{iamis. I had hoped we might him gladly even would have followed him ¢' gain assistance there, but they Hiv? |to death, the one hope which held me either joined the whites in 1 = to the hardships of the trail was the or are hiding In the woods. i is chance thus given of seeking you my- dent we must save ourselves, if. COPYRICNT 4 ACMECURG @ CG “And how far is it?” pe know the rest. I have made be league or two, and Es wilh , SYNOPSIS. “The Iroquois,” I echoed incredu-|!onger in command. They are here To ve Linked *; rd farther end | te Whole Journey; I have sae. ap —12— jJous, for that name was the terror of |to sweep the French out of this It | 4 i by hark. We swillcoraitbere sult, the charge of crime, merely a phcele te Chesoaroe, a belle of ew my childhood. “How came these sav-|nols country, and have given no warn- peel v8 capt “eat such food ‘aa we| 1 mixht remain, an nerve ee Git - ance, ia fore nto marriage wi! Ns 4 ie . jun e sk, | 7 ecause _ Commissaire Cassion, henchman of | #8¢8 80 far to the westward?” ing. They surprised the Indian vil have without fre, and rest ap wee. do I say this? Governor Ie Barre. who is plotting to| “Thelr war parties range to the|lsces first, killed. every Algonquin |e of venture. The next trip will oust La ie an is garrison from the * ea he D > P 2. | frontier Fort St. Louls, on the Illinois | 8reat river,” he answered. “We fol-| they could find, and are now besieging test us all, and madame ig’ weary Fay eho nim Nad overheard the plotters | lowed their bloody trail when first we | the Rock. And what have they to oe. pial glready.!* gay she nhe & great fortune ee . » ey ght, | enoug e . 5 from hee Sailer ‘and they bad Kept 4¢ | CAMs to this yaliey) 15 -waerto: gain] Dose them? Roce than pey a eee ean hour wi put me right.” I said. from her. a Barre and fassion learned | protection from these ralders that the | no doubt, for Cassion and De la “di a , hi t making no attempt * | of the girl's knowledge—thus the mar- a re must peaches pre giife-| smiling at him, yet m 8 ! riage and the hurried departure of Cas-|Algonquins gathered about the fort.|rantaye must have react rh Sa tb a- ? = “T have been in-a boat so| sion and @ company for Fort St. Louls | We fought the fiends twice, and drove| ly, yet at the best, the white a o rise. i 1 The bride fetuses to share sleeping |them back, yet now they are here|ers will scarcely number @fty men. long I have lost all strength in my Wet ane: en gh ea ay 2’ a and quarreling among themselves !!ke | limbs.” ut one ne, youn a gs SrArts ny,| again, Come, Adele, we must return : ve a : , Sate tor : a 5 shat tantiGaius.” (Beatty t &, suite. ys Ginele, One of the cet. | to the canoe, and consult with Bar-| Mad dogs. There is but one g fo "We feel that, all of us.” ¢ we | ve Ooebeees gh heau, He has seen much of Indian | U8 to do, Barbeau—reach the fort! “but come, Barbeau, unpac » and let ecatters and wrecks the boats, Adele is | war.” “Ay, but how? There will be death ‘yg have what cheer we can. n bp YA . A he y > ¢ ma fied thought one another guilty, ct | ‘The canoe rode close in under ti e| now, haunting us every foot of the) 7 inow not when food was ever Choveta murder Adele loves her res-| bank, Barbeau holding it with grasp | WA more welcome, although it was simple muer. \¢ earch p. < f nd hi ; With: @ pew found friend, asteau, pro- on a great root. He must have read | D’Artigny tu head, and bis cnough to be sure-—a bit of hard ceed overland toward Fort 8t. Louis, in our faces some message of alarm, | *¥es met mine i. thy cracker, and some jerked deer meat. HOUNMN BREEN EnEERER | for he exclaimed before either of us| “There is a passa know,”"h@) ashed down by water from the could speak: sald gravely, “below the south banks}\.+..0m-—yet hunger served to make Madame Cassion owes her life “What is it—the Iroquois?” yonder, but there will be peril im it-+| i,.06 welcome. The loneliness and to D’Artigny. She is now In his “Yes; why did you guess that?” peril to which I dread to expose the peri] of our situation had tendency to hands. She loves him. She has “I have seen signs for an hour past | !ady.” | keep us silent, although D’Artigny en- a high sense of honor and obil- which made me fear this might be | I stood erect, no longer paralyzed |deavored to cheer m with kindly gation. Will her conscience true. That was why I held the boat} by fear, realizing my daty. speech, and gave Barbeau careful de force her to go on to the fort, so close to the bank. The village has ‘Do not hesit because of me, scription of the trail leading to the where her husband Is, and tell been attacked?" monsieur,” I sa calmly. “French fort gate. If aught happened to b him she thinks her real lover “Ay, surprised and massacred; the | Women have always done theff part. | we were to press on until we attaine: may be a murderer—giving her ground is covered with the dead, and|®od I shail not fail. Explain toatecneiter. The way in which the word reason for the belief? In this your plan.” weresrld brought a lump into my installment the author gives a | throat, and before I knew the signifi- vivid portrayal of her dilemma CHAPTER XVi pi cance of the*actjon, my hand clasped | at the very time her life Is In a if his. I felt the gripef his @nvers, and Grave danger. -. The Words of hove, say: tts face turn toWafd me in the} 4 Fis eyes brightened his Band | gisk. Barbeau got to his feet, gun | 2 pought oy = 4 in hand. and stood shading his 8 CHAPTER XV—Continued. “The spirit of the olf days; the) uy Jould Ike a closer view of that “You Make It a Trial Test.” 2 words of a soldv'r's daughter, be¥-} Vinoce yonder,” he said, “and will go Madame Cassion, D'Artigny | and Barbeau?” down the bank a hundred yards or| We succeed in getting through the In- Barbeau are making their way In ca- “A La Chestfayne could make no a dian line I shall be again among my noe and on foot to Fort St. Louis. other cholcef’ he answered loyal! “~pwill do no harm,” returned | °!d comrade nd shall be no longer 4 “But we no time to waste he D'Artignes atiil © clawed ’ my hand.|2 servant to Francois Cassion, I shall I was but a girl in years, excitement in com ent. You know a safe pas-| |” lat tte So st before we make| Stand before him a man, an equal, was still to me a delight, and I bad . The’ of time yet before we m: ready to Magrave’ iiywelr ew simi Ustened to so many tales, romantic, 1 hiph | OUr venture. 4 : bt a safe one, yet a trail which __ | steel— a P , vliderne: i ot | 2 8: eared in the shadows, perchec por apa . y tH but few. Let us aboard, and cross apes Med ia soe a | must not be; for my s you will not imagination had v ved abSut ft an o the opposite shore, where we will Artigny’s face, my heart be | ; alt" atmosphere of marvel. The beauty of RAwitiereanoeteRnatmake [are way, y- | eee ayy uld hay the view from its palisades, the yast A thirorigh the peat Onoalwa fais afoot| “You did not Ifke to hear me ak | For your sake? You would have concourse of Indians encamped on the Gidee st will inake my mientanclaar’? as I did?” he questioned quiet me spare him? plains below. and those men guarding y . 4 re ‘ ” 1 answered honestly, “the “Oh, why do you put it thus, mon- A dozen strokes landed us on the * 7 ' be its safety—the faithful comrades of eagle bes : an led me. If—if anything | leur! It 1s so hard for me to ex- other bank, where the canoe was ight startled n 3 | La Salle In explorations of the un- aE” Sy i ene 0, i—I should be alJ| Plain. You say you love me, and— drawn up, and concealed among the ned to you, i known, De Tonty, Bolsrondet, and all huahes, - whilalnen | Adebandedabaltsnt | alone and the words g mejoy. Ay, I con | the others, had long since become to} declivity, and found ourselves in the He bent lower, st!!l grasping my | fess that. But do you not see that F my mind the incarnation of romantic Pn wd “ a be mnel my evee | Viow from your hand struck at Fran- r; silence of a great wood. Here D’'Ar ngers, and seeking to compel my eyes Bee adventure. Wilderness born, I could | tie dt ke certain his |to meet his. jcois Cassion would separate us for- comprehend and appreciate their toils | ony erates in betana he ict S| “Adele.” he hisnercd. “coher it | ever? Surely that is not the you and dangers, and my dreams centered eee oe edie : ee Cheba) Sage ek. I would not have you bear af- t “I will go forward slightly in ad-| necessary for us to keep up this n abont this great, lonely Wit ga reed vance,” he sald, at last, evidently hay-|querade?” nt longer, yet no open quarre) will they had established a Lome. “Yat the : Bees 2rd Seo rh Laie serve to better our a rs. Certainly 2 » det r 5 ow ~ in atiasre Oo end wagrrateytur Just below the con ea eae ree Ee coarse. aah tbat magauerade, monsieur {no clash of swords.” Perhaps it can- ente of the river there was a vil a ee Sarees SS} “This pretense at mere friendship }not be avoided, for Cassion may so lage of the Tamaroas, and the prow The Ground Before Us Was Strewn | nolselesely as possible. No one ever| ne insisted, “when we could serve , y With Dead, of our canoe touched the bank, whil D'Artigny stepped ashore amid tangle of low-crowing bushes, that bh might have speech with some of th the fort. he turned laughing, and held out hi I joined him gladly, ing awkward under the, from loi cramping In the boat, yet the clim was not difficult, and he held back th boughs to give sy passage. Be yond the fringe of brush there was an but as we reached this, open space, both paused, stricken dumb by horro' at the sight which met our view. Th ground before dead, and mutilated bodies, and wa been burned, and their contents scat tered broadcast. Never before had I seen such view savage of devastation, of relentiess, cruelty, and I gave utterance to a sud den sob, and shrank back agnins' D'Artigny’s arm, hiding my eyes with my hand. tlonless, He stood and stared, mo breathing heavily, uncon sciously gripping my arm, “Mon Dieu!" he burst forth, at last “What meaneth this? again loose in the valley?” He drew both concealed instinct awakened. “Remain here hidden,” may face grave peril below.” me captive. crept fourth, and I lay in the shadow of the covert, watching his move Body after body he ap- some victim alive, the story. last he stood erect, beside the dead spot, and came said soberly, : and. cnll- easily the Bo warriors, and thus learn conditions at With his foot on the bank. ay imbs feel us was strewn with Diack with ashes where the tepees bad Are the wolves me back, untli we were behind a fringe of leavea, his whole manner alert, every of the woodSman instantly he whis- Pered, “until I learn the truth; we He left me trembling and white- Upped, yet I made no effort to re- strain him. The borror of these dead bodies gripped me, but I would not have him know the terror which held With utmost caution he But thero e a e e with in Indian campaign, and we are without arms, except for Barbeau's gun.” “I retain my pistol.” 1 interrupted. “Of small value since its immersion in the lake; as to myself, I must trust the tepees are burned. Madame is half crazed with the shock.” Barbeau took no heed, his eyes searce glancing at me, so eager was he to learn detalls “The fends were im force, then?” is knife. Madam you w ‘ol- hand to me. “Their moccasin tracks were every- bee Hate ae abe (atteatt “Come, madame,” he said, pleasant- where, I could not be sure where] mske sure of your course through the ly, “you have never seen a village Of| they entered the village, but they left] woods, while Barbeau will guard the our western tribes; it will interest!) » way of the Fox. 1 counted on the near. v are both ready?” you.” sand the imprint of ten canoes.” ; “Perhaps it might be well to explain more clearly what you propose,” sald the soldier. “Then tf we become sep- arated, we could ficure out the proper direction to follow.” “Nof a bad thonght, that. rough rond ahead, heavily and across broken land. My route is almost directly west, except that we bear slightly south to keep well away from the river. Three leagues will bring us to a small stream which empties Into the Illinols. There Is a faint trail along its eastern bank, which leads to the Rock, where it is “Deep and broad?" y, r bo tis likely some of d hold twenty warriors; the ts are here tn force.” so peaceful about d, incapable of com- our great danger. The river swept past, its waters murmur- ing gently, and the wooded banks were cool and green. Not a sound awoke the echoes, and the horror I jhad just witnessed seemed almost a | dream, “Where are they now?” I questioned g b e th be It was all so sti! us that I felt daz prehending It Is a wooded, r © s | faintly, “Have they gone back to| Possible for one knowing the way to |} their own country?” attain the palisades of the fort. If ; “Small hope of that,” answered | We can attain this trall before dark D'Artigny, “or we would have met with them before this, or other signs of their passage. They are below, either at the fort, or planning attack or the Indian villages beyond. What think you, Barbeau?” “I have never been here,” he said slowly, “so cannot tell what chance the red devils might have against the white men at St. Louls. But they are below us on the river, no doubt of that, and engaged In some hell act. I know the Iroquois, and how they con- duct war. "Twill be well for us to think It all out with care before we venture farther. Come, D’Artigny, tell me what you know—tIs the fort one to be defended against Lroquois raiders?” “'Tis strong; built on a high rock, and approachable only at the rear. Given time, they might starve the gar- rison, or drive them mad with thirst, for % doubt if there be men enough we can make the remaining distance by night. Here, let me show you,” and he drew with a sharp stick a hasty map on the ground. “Now you understand; if we become separated, keep steadily westward until you reach a stream flowing north.” In this order we took up the march, and as I had nothing to bear except a blanket, which I twisted about my shoulders, I found little difficulty in following my leader. At first the un- dgpbrush was heavy, and the ground very broken, so that oftentimes I lost sight entirely of D'Artigny, but as he constantly broke branches to mark his passage, and the sun served as guid- ance, I had small difficulty in keeping the proper direction. To our right along the river appeared masses of isolated rock, and these we skirted closely, always in the shadow and silence of great trees. Within half an hour we had emerged from the re- tarding underbrush, and came out into an open wood, where the walking was much easier. The sun had not entirely disap- peared when we emerged from the dark wood shadows into a narrow, grassy valley, through which flowed 4 silvery stream, not broad, but deep. Assured that this must be the water We sought, I sank to the ground, eager for a moment's rest, but D’Artigny, tireless stili, moved back and forward sree tpt oe of the forest to assure \mself safety of our surround- ings, Barbeau joined him, and ques- tioned, “We have reached the trail?” “Ay, beside the shore yonder; see Xnows where the enemy are to be met! ‘exo it that convent m Queber. eer, of you in the wilderness, in the Nanor<% the great river, and here ouls. Never did voyageur go | you anything of Indian tepees across | y*\y || the stream to the left?” I at “Below, there are wigwams pod ie the edge of the grove. aa sab the cacines from here; but ani, ira but I asked him to bring me I make out no moving figures.” tdfrem you, 4. “Deserted then; the cowards have | mM I~ ». mevsase Gaia run away. They could not have been} “Tet ve none, m attacked, or the tepees would bave Leen burned.” “An Algonquin village?” | *] know that; even Sieur de Ia Salle fulle? te learn your dwelling place. .) who be Gnally chose me as bis comrade on this last journey, while I insult you when he sees us together, each other better by a frank confes-| 4. to jet his inso} ” ence go beyond re sion of the truth, You love me—" |straint. But I beg of you, tthe “Monsieur,” and I tried to draw my | to hold your hand, to restrain your hand away. am the wife of Fran- | temper—for my sake.” cois Cassion.” ou make it a trial, a test?” “I care nothing for that unholy al- es—it is a test. But, monsteur, Hance. You are his only by form. there is more involved here than mere happiness. You must be cleared of the charge of crime, and I must learn the truth of what caused my mar riage. Without these facts the future can hold out no hope for either of us. And there is only one way in which this end can be accomplished—a con- fession by Cassion. He alone knuws the entire story of the conspiracy, and there is but one way in which he can be induced to talk.” You mean the same method you Proposed to me back on the Ottawa?” I faced him frankly, my eyes meet- ing his, no shade of hesitation in my voice. “Yes, monsieur, I mean that. You refused me before, but I see no harm, no wréng in the suggestion If the men we fought were honorable I might hesitate—but they have shown no sense of honor. They have made me their victim, and I am fully justified in turning their own w apons agalust them. I have never hesitated in my pur pose, and I sha!! net now. I shall use the weapons which God has put into my hands to wring from him the bitter truth—the weapons of a woman, love, and jealousy. Monsieur, am I to fight this fight alone?’ At first I thought he would nor an- swer me, although his handgrip tight- ened, and his eyes looked down into mine, as though he would read the | Very sec Do you know what that marriage has | “Borat pny oer be cost me? Insults, ever since we left fore,” he sald at last, “all that was Quebec. The coward knew I dare not | involved in your decision. I must lay hand upon him, because he was | 1. : know your husband. We would have crossed lips baton Lalivien tage coe ate steel u hundred times but for my| « ‘A you please; memory of you. I could not kill the too pores Vi iehog ede aray cur, for to do so would separate us 8 forever. So I bore his taunts, his vilings, his curses, his orders that were insults. You think it was easy? I am a woodsman, a leutenant of La Salle, and it has never before been my way to receive insult without a blow. We are not of that breed. Yet in I bore it for your sake—why? Be cause I loved you.” “Oh, monsieur!” | | | | 1 Found Little Difficulty In Following My Leader. es, ot ae ig: I love you! Is that and e*ch one bore DADDY'S. EVENIN RY TALES G MARY BROWNIES AND REINDEERS. “The Brownies,” said Daddy, “were very Mysterious about a Wonderful Trip they had had. “*You have been gone for some few Days,’ said Peter Gnome. ‘Won't you tell us about it? We want to know where you have been, and why and how and all sorts of things.” “Dear me,’ laughed Billie Brownie, ‘you are very Curious, aren’t you? “‘wWell, Naturally,’ said Peter Jnome. ‘If you had seen us come back after having been away on a Trip, wouldn’t you like to hear all about it? “Indeed we would’ said the Brownies. “‘and if that is the case, suppose you tell us,’ said Peter Gnome, smiling. “Very well, said Bilie Br ‘But first of all let us go to Mr, € Cave, for he would like to hear our Trip. He tells us so many rood Stories, and of co many Adventures, | that I am sure it is only Fair of us to tell him of the Greatest Trip, and the most Wonderful Adventure we ever had in all our Lives.’ “‘Oh, dear, said Peter Gnome, ‘I can hardly wait to hear about it now that you say it is the most Wonderful Trip and Adventure you have ever had. For we all know the Browniee have a good many Interesting Trips.’ “‘of we go for Mr. Giant's Cave then,’ said Billie Brownie. “The Brownies and Gnomes all fol- lowed along, and soon they arrived at Giant's Cave.’ “‘*anybody Home? they called out. | “‘Iam at Home,’ said a Deep Voice. | ‘Whom do you wish to see?’ “‘Ha, ha, ha, Laughed the Gnomes and Brownies. ‘As if we came here to anyone but Mr. Giant Himself!’ Then you may Him, for here said Mr. ¢ 1s he came out of his Cave. “‘and what is up?’ be asked as he everyone was much excited and y quite Mysteri “The Brownies,’ ‘have boen ¢ e waiting to is suc imenced Peter on a Trip, and r about it, The lendid Story that St tell you about it, too.’ ’ said Mr. Giant. ‘Come right , while I Light the Light exclaimed the Brownies | ce G e, » ind Mr. hav@ a f Lights this E And @@athey went inside they saw some hts Mr. Glant had made imself ouk of deep, hollow Stones Inside were ttle, Tiny Bonfires Burn- ing. “Oh, how Li ed,” said nt, ening.’ uf 1 the Brown “Do You Belong to Sa les and Gnomes, but th stopped Speaking, for Bi was about to commence b “"Wew 3 he said. ‘Oh far beyond an! have ever been to in our wore our Fur Suits, and to for our Faces, for we had hea’ Bitterly Cold up there. “‘After we had gone quite a tance we saw some Wonderful deers. “*To whom do you belong?’ asked. “We Wonder if you are ones we have come to see. Do yo belong tec Santa Claus?” And they ali nodded their Heads, and made queer Sounds, “Then, I thought to myself was the time for us to unpack our Bags. You see on the way up North we had found a great deal of Lichen, which is the Moss of the Reindeer Family, and which they live on all Winter long. They never Eat anything else during the Cold Months, and we wanted to give them a great Feast of it. “*We took our Bags from our Backs and out came the Lichen. Such Sounds as the Reindeers did make. And how they Frisked and Ran with Joy! Their great Horns made them look so Hand- some, and we were Proud, indeed, te give them a Party. 4 “ ‘After they had Eaten all that could, we put some away for th while they wa‘ched us, and by the they looked at us, we know they ed to Thank us. But as we were!go- ing off—for we didn’t think we see Santa Claus—out he Peeped behind a “ree, and Laughing with his Bright Byes, he said, “Thank You, Brownies for your Goodness to my Fine Animals, and a Merry Xmas to you all!”