Casper Daily Tribune Newspaper, January 4, 1917, Page 3

PReWrOR cture yand- hose t all rs in 0 to clifT, of a else une lar ce.” nd ch- CHAPTER X1IX.—Continued. —14— “You refuse obedience to the gover- sor of New France?” “No, monsieur; [ am under orders to obey. There will be no trouble be- tween us if you are just to my men. La Barre js not here to decide this, but lam.” He put his hand on D’Ar- tigny’s shoulder. “Monsieur Cassion charges this man with murder. He is an officer of my command, and I arrest him. He shall be protected, and given a fair trial. What more can you ask?” ° “You will protect him! help him to escape, rather!" burst out Cassion. “That is the scheme, De Baugis.” “Your words are insult, monsieur, and I bear no more. If you seek quar- rel, you shall have it. I am your equal, monsieur, and my commission comes from the king. Ah, M. de la Duran- taye, what say you of this matter?” A man, broad-shouldered, In the dress of a woodsman, elbowed his way through the throng of soldiers, He had a strong, good-humored face. “In faith, I heard little of the con- troversy, yet 'tis like I know the gist of it, as I have just conversed with a wounded soldier of mine, Barbeau, who repeated the story. as he under- stood it. My hand to you, Sieur d’Ar- tigny. and it seems to me, messieurs, that De Tonty hath the right of it.” “You take his side against us who have the authority of the governor?” “Pah! that is not the issue. "Tis merely a question of justice to this lad here. I stand for fair trial with Henri de Tonty, and will back my judgment with my sword.” They stood eye to eye, the four of them, and the group of soldiers seemed to divide, each company drawing to- gether. Cassion growled some vague threat, but De Baugis took another course, gripping his companion by the arm. “No, Francois, ‘tis not worth the danger,” he expostulated. “There will be no crossing of steel. Monsieur Cas- sion, no doubt, hath reason to be an- gered—but not I. The man shall have his trial, and we will learn the right and wrong of al) this presently. Mon- sieur Tonty, the prisoner is left in your charge. Fall back men—to your barracks. Madame, permit me to of- fer you my escort.” “To where, monsieur?” “To the only quarters fitted for your reception,” he said gallantly, “those I have occupied since arrival here.” “You vacate them for me?” “With the utmost pleasure,” bowing gallantly. “I beg of you their accept- ance; your husband has been my guest, and will join me in exile.” “I will use your quarters gladly, Captain de Baugis,” I said quietly, “but will ask to be left there undis- turbed.” “Most assuredly, madame—my serv- ant will accompany you.” “Then good night, messieurs.” I | faced Cassion, meeting his eyes frank- ly. “I am greatly wearied, and would rest; tomorrow I will speak with you, monsieur. Permit to pass.” He stood aside, unable to affront me. although the anger in his face was evidence enough of brewing trouble, No doubt he had boasted of me to De Raugis, and felt no desire now te have our true relations exposed thus pub- licly. I passed him, glancing at none of the others, and followed the soldier across thie beaten parade. A moment later I was safely hidden within a two-roomed cabin. A table and two chairs, rudely made with ax and knife, comprised the en- tire furniture, bat a small mirror, un- framed, hung suspended against the farther wall. ¥ glanced at my reflec- tion in the glass, surprised to learn how little change the weeks had made in my appearance. It was still the face of a girt which gazed back at me, with clear, wide-open eyes, and plans of vengeance? I opened the single window, and leaned out, grateful for the fresh air blowing against my face, but unable to perceive the scene below shrouded in darkness. Far away, down the valley, was the red glow of a fire, its flame reflecting over the partacni ae BEYOND STORY that was it—this had been Caasion's quarters since his arrival, and this was his bag, the one he kept beside him in the canoe, his private property. My heart beat wildly in the excite- ment of discovery, yet there was no hesitation; instantly I was upon my knees tugging at the straps. They yielded easily, and I forced the leather aside, gaining glimpse of the contents, I discovered nothing but clothes at first—moccasins and numerous under- garments—together with a uniform, evidently new, and quite gorgeous. The removal of these, however, re- vealed a pocket in the leather side, securely fastened, and on opening this with trembling fingers, a number of papers were disclosed. Scarcely venturing to breathe. hard- ly knowing what I hoped to find, I drew these forth, and glanced hastily at them. Surely the man would bear nothing unimportant with him on such a journey; these must be papers of value, for I had noted with what care he had guarded the bag all the way. Yet at first I discovered nothing to re- ward my search—there wes a package of letters, carefully bound with a strong cord, a commission from La Barre, creating Cassion a major of in- fantry, a number of receipts issued in Montreal, a lst of goods purchased at St. Ignace, and a roster of men com- Posing the expedition. At last from one corner of the pocket I drew forth a number of close. ly written pages, evidently the gover nor’s instruction. They were traced in so fine a hand that I was obliged to return beside the fire to decipher thelr contents. They were written in detall, largely concerned with matters of routine, especially referring to rela- tions with the garrison of the fort, and Cassion’s authority over De Baugis, but the closing paragraph had eyvi- dently been added later, and had per- sonal interest. It read: “Use your dis- cretion as to D’Artigny, but violence will hardJy be safe; he ts thought too well of by La Salle, and that fox’ may get Louis’ ear again. We had best be cautious. Chevet, however, has no friends. and, I am told, possesses a list of the La Chesnayne property, and other documents which had best be destroyed. Do not fail in this, nor fear results. We have gone too far to hesitate now.” I took this page, and thrust it Into my breast. It was not much, and yet it might prove the one needed link. I ran through the packet of letters, but they apparently bad no bearing on the case. Assured that I had overlooked noth- ing, I thrust the various articles back, restrapped the bag, and returned to the outer room. As I paused before 1 Glanced at My Reflection in the Glass. the. fire, someone rapped at the door. I stood erect, my fingers gripping the pistol, which { still retained. Again the raps sounded, clearly enough de- fined in the night, yet not violent or threatening. “Who is there?” TI asked. “Your husband, my dear—Francols Cassion” “But why do you come? It was the Pledge of De Baugis that I was to be Jeft alone.” “A fair pledge enough, although I was not consulted. From the look of “Your dressing case?” — “Ay, you know it well, a brown leather bag I bore with me during our the LRONTIER OF EARDY DA COPYRIGHT a AC.MECLURG @ CO “Twill be safer if you keep your word,” I sald quietly, “for I still carry Hugo Chevet’s pistol, and know how to use it. Draw-away from the door, monsieur, and I will thrust out the bag.” I lowered the bar, opening the door barely wide enough to permit the bag’s Passage. The: light from the fire gleamed on the barre! of the pistol held in my hand. It was the work of an instant, and I saw nothing of Cassion, but, as the donr closed, he laughed scornfully. “"ls your game tonight, madame,” he said spitefully, “but tomorrow I play my hand. I thank you for the bag, as it contains my commission. By virtue of dt I shall assume com- mand of this Fort St. ‘Louis, and I know how to deal with murderers. I congratulate you on‘your lover, ma- dame—good night.” I must have slept from sheer exhaus- tion, although I made no attempt to lie down. It was broad daylight when I awoke, aroused by pounding on the door. To my ingtiry a voice an- nounced food, and I lowered the bar, permitting an orderly to enter, bearing a tray, which he deposited on the table. Without speaking, he turned to leave the room, but I suddenly felt courage to address him. “You were not of our party,” I said gravely. “Are you a soldler of M. de Baugis?” “No, madame,” and he turned fac- ing me, his countenance a pleasant one. “I am not a soldier at all, but I serve M. de Tonty.” “Ah, I am glad of that. You will bear to your master a message?” “Perhaps, madame,” his tone some- what doubtful. “You are the wife of ‘Monsieur Cassion?” “Do not hesitate because of that.” I hastened to say, believing I understood his meaning. “While it is true I am legally the wife of Francois Cassion, my sympathies now are altogether with the Sieur d’Artigny. I would have you ask M. de Tonty to confer with me.” “Yes, madame.” “You have served with D’Artigny? You know him well?” “Three years, madame; twice he saved my life on the great river. M. de Tonty shall receive your message.” I could not eat, although I made the endeavor, and finally crossed to the window, opened the heavy w-oden shutters, and gazed without. What a marvelous scene that was! Never be- fore had my eyes looked upon so fair a view, and I stood silent and fascl- nated. My window opened to the westward, and I gazed down from the very edge of the vast rock into the wide valley. Great treetops were be- low, and I had to lean far out to see the silvery waters lapping the base of the precipice, but, a little beyond, the full width of the noble stream became visible, decked with islands, and winding here and there between green-clad banks, until it disappeared in the far distance, I had neglected to bar the door, and as I stood there gazing in breathless fascination, a sudden step on the floor caused me to turn in alarm. My eyes encountered those of De Tonty, who stood hat in hand. “°Tis a fair view, madame,” he said politely. “In all my travels I have seen no nobler domain.” “It hath a peaceful look,” I an- swered, still struggling with the mem- ory. “Can it be true the savages hoid the valley?” “All too true—see, yonder, where the smoke still shows, dwelt the Kaskan- kias. Not a lodge is left, and the bod- jes of their dead strew the ground. Along those meadows three weeks since there were the happy villages of twelve tribes of peaceful Indians; to- day those who yet live are fleeing for their lives.” “And this fort, monsieur?” “Safe enough, I think, although no one of us can venture ten yards be- yond the gate. The Rock protects us, madame, yet we are greatly outnum- bered, and with no ammunition to waste. "i'was the surprise of the raid which left us thus helpless. Could we have been given time to gather our friendly Indians together, the story would be different.” “They are not cowards, then?” “Not with proper leadership. We have seen them fight often since we invaded this land. ‘Tis my thought of them are hiding wild for the tad’s blood, and how came there to be trouble between Rene and the furtrader? Bah! I know the lad is no murderer, but no one will tell me the facts.” “Then I will, monsteur,” I said gravely. “It was because of my be- Hef that Sieur d’Artigny would re- fuse explanation that I sent for you, ‘fhe truth need not be concealed; not from you, at least, the commander of Fort St. Louis—’* “Pardon, madame, but I am not that. La Salle left me in command with less than a dozen men. De Baugis came later, under commission from La Barre, but he also had but a handful of fol- lowers. To save quarrel we agreed to divide authority, and so got along fair- ly well, until M. Cassion arrived with his party. Then the odds were alto- gether on the other side, and De Bau- gis assumed command by sheer force of rifles. "Twas La Salle’s wich that no resistance be made, but, faith, with the Indians scattered, I had no power. This morning things have taken a new phase. An hoar ago M. Cassion as- sumed command of the garrison by virtue of a commission he produced from the Governor la Barre, naming him major of infantry. This gives him rank above Captain de Baugis. and, besides, he bore a letter authorizing him to take command of all French troops in this valley, if, in his judg- ment, circumstances rendered it nec- essary. No doubt he deemed this the proper oveasion.” “To assure the conviction and death of D'Artigny?” I asked, as he paused. “That is your meaning, monsieur?” “I cannot see it otherwise,” he an- swered slowly, “although I hesitate to make so grave a charge in your pres- ence, madame. Our situation here ts searcely grave enough to warrant his action, for the fort is in no serious danger from the Iroquoly. De Baugis, while no friend of mine, is still a fajr- minded man, and merciful. He cannot be made a tool for any purpose of re- venge. This truth Major Cassion has doubtless learned, and hence assumes command himself to carry out his plans.” I looked clear-cut face, feeling a confidence in him which {mpelled me to hold out my hand. “M. de Tonty,” I said, determined now to address him in all frankness, “it is true that I am legally the wife of this man of whom you speak, but this only enables me to know his mo- tives better. This condemnation of Sieur d’Artigny is not his plan alone; it was born in the brain of La Barre, and Cassion merely executes his or- ders. I have here the written instruc- tions under which he operates.” T held out to him the page from La Barre's letter. CHAPTER XX, wi The Court-Martial. De Tonty took the paper from my hand, glanced at it, then lifted his eyes inquiringly ‘to mine. “Tis in the governor’s own hand, How came this in your possession?” “I found it in Cassion’s private bag last night, under the berth yonder. Later he came and carried the bag away, never suspecting it had been opened. His commission was there also. Read it, monsieur.” He did so slowly, carefully, seeming to welgh every word, his eyes darken- ing, and a flush creeping into his swar- thy cheeks. “Madame,” he exclaimed at last, “I care not whether the man be your husband, but this is a damnable con- spiracy, hatched months ago in Que- bec.” i bowed my head. “Beyond doubt, monsieur.” “And you found nothing more—no documents taken from Hugo Chevet?’’ “None, monsieur; they were either destroyed in accordance with La Barre’s instructions, or else M. Cas- siov bas them on his person.” “Pat I do not understand the rea- son for such foul treachery. What oc- curred back in New France to cause the murder of Chevet and this attempt to convict D’Artigny of the crime?” “Sit here, monsieur,” I said, my voice trembling, “and I will tell you the whole story, I must tell you, for there is no one else In Fort St. Louis whom I can trust.” T told the tale simply, concealing nothing, not even my growing love for D’Artigny. The man listening inspired my utmost confidence—I sought his re- spect and faith. As I came to the end for a moment he remained motionless I belleve you, honor your choice. The case is strong against D’Artigny; even your testi- mony is not for his defense. Does M. Cassion know you saw the young man Into the soldier's dark, 1 am under strict order from La Salle not to oppose La Barre’s e\cers, and, even if I were disposed to disobey my chief, I possess no force with which to act. I have but ten men on whom I could rely, while they number over forty.” He leaned closer, whispering, “Our policy is to wait, and act after the prisoner has been condemned.” “How? You mean a rescue?” “Ay, there lies the only hope. There is one man here who can turn the trick. He is D’'Artigny’s comrade and friend. Already he has outlined a vlan to me, but I gave no encouragement. Yet, now that I know the truth, I shall not oppose. Have you courage, ma- dame, to give him your assistance? 'Tis like to be a desperate venture.’ I drew a deep breath, but with no sense of fear. “Yes, monsieur. am to trust?” “Francois de Boisrondet, the one who led the rescue party last night.” “A gallant lad.” “Ay, a gentleman of France, a Jar ing heart. Tonight—" The door opened, and the figure of a man stood outlined against the bright- er glow without. De Tonty was on his feet fronting the newcomer, ere 1 even realized it was Cassion who stood there, glaring at us. Behind him two soldiers waited In the sunshine. “What is the meaning of this, M. de Tonty?” he exclaimed, with no pre- tense at friendliness. “A rather early morning call, regarding which I was Who is the man I I Stood Silent, Fascinated. not even consulted. Have husbands no rights in this wilderness paradise?” “Such rights as they uphold,” re- turned the Italian, erect and motion- less. “I am always at your service, M, Cassion, versed without permission. you will.” It was in Cassion’s heart to strike. robbed him of courage. guardbouse mand now.” with D’Artigny. vict me as easily.” “What do you meas?” “Only that your whole case Is a tis- sue of lies.” doubt. song presently. my testimony?” Now will you confess iLe truth?” kept silent. “You do me honor.” Tonty. “Shall I go, monsieur?” prisoner. sure, deny me the privilege of accom arm.” ig a ? i *y Madame and I have con- If that be crime, I answer for it now, or when I read the Gasire in his eyes, in the swift clutch at his sword hilt; but the sarcastic smile on De Tonty’s thin lips “'Tis best you curb your tongue,” he snarled, “or I will have you in the I vom- “Bo I hear. Doubtless you could con- “Pah! you have her word for st, no But you will sing a different Ay, and it will be her testimony which will hang the villain.” “What is this you say, monsleur— “Just that—the tale of what you saw in the Mission garden at St. Ig- nace. Sacre, that shot hits, does it! You thought me asleep, and with no knowledge of your escapade, but I had other eyes open that night, my lady. “I shall conceal nothing, monsieur.” “'T will be best that you fake no at- tempt,” he sneered, his old braggart spirit reasserting itself as De Tonty “I have guard here tc escort you to the commandant’s office.” I turned to De “I think it best, madame,” he replied soberly, his dark eyes contemptuously surveying Cassion. “To refuse would only strengthen the case against the M. Cassion will not, I am panying you. Permit me to offer my MORE WHEAT, — MORE CATTLE, MORE HOGS Land Values Sure to Advance Because of Increasing De- mand for Farm Products. The cry frcm countries abroad for more of the necessaries of life is acute today; tomorrow it will be still more insistent, and there will be no letup after the war. This is the day for the farmer, the day that he is com- ing into his own. He is gradually becoming the dictator as It becomes more apparent that upon his indus- try depends the great problem of feeding great world, The farmer of Canada and the United States has it within himself to hold the position that stress of circumstances has lifted him into today. The conditions abroad are such that the utmost dependence will rest upon the farmers of this continent for some time after the war, and for this reason there Is no hesitation in making.the statement that war's de- mands are, and fora long time will be, inexhaustible, and the claims that will be made upon the soil will with diffi- culty be met. There are today 25,000,- 900 men In the fighting ranks in the old world. The best of authority gives 75 per cent and over as having been drawn from the farms. There is there- fore nearly 75 per cent of the land for- merly tilled’ now being unworked, Much of this land is today in a devas- tated condition and if the war should end tomorrow it will take years to bring it back to its former producing capacity. Instead of the farmer, producer pro- ducing, he has become a consumer, making the strain upon those who have been left to do the farming a very dif- ficult one. There may be agitation as to the high cost of living, and doubtless there is reason for it In many cases. The middleman may boost the prices, combines may organize to elevate the cost, but one cannot get away from the fact that the demand regulates the supply, and the supply regulates the price, The price of wheat—in fact, all grains—as well as cattle, will remain high for some time, and the low prices that have prevailed will not come again for some time. After the war the demand for cattle, not alone for beef, but for stock pur- poses, to replenish the exhausted herds of Europe, will be keen, Farm educa- tors and advisers are telling you to prepare for this emergency. How much better it can be done on the low-priced lands of today, on lands that cost from ten to twenty dollars per acre, than it can on two and three hundred-dollar- an-acre land. The lands of Western Canada meet all the requftements. They are productive in every sense of the word. The best of grasses can be grown with abundant ylelds and the grain can be produced from these soils that beats the world, and the same may be said of cattle and horses. The cti- mate is all thuc is required. Those who are competent to judge claim that land prices will rise in yalue from twenty to fifty per cent. This is looked for in Western Canada, where lands are decidedly cheap today, and those who are fortunate enough to se- cure now will realize wonderfully by means of such an investment. The land that the Dominion Government is giving uway as free homesteads iM the provinces of Manitoba, Saskatchewan and Alberta are of a high class; they wre abundant in every constituent that goes to make the most productive soils. The yields of wheat, onts and barley that have been grown on these lands gives the best evidence of their productiveness, and when backed up by the experience of the thousands of settlers from the United States who have worked them and become wealthy upon thein, little more should be re- quired to convince those who are seek- ing a home, even with Mmited means, that nowhere can they secure anything that will better equip them to become one of the army of industry to assist In taking care of the problem of feed- ing the world. These lunds are free; but to those who desire larger holdings than 160 acres there are the railroad companies and land corporations from whom purchase can be made at rea- sonable prices, and information can be secured from the Canadian Government agent, whose advertisement appears elsewhere in this paper,—Advertise- ment. His Probable Vocation. Friend—What is your baby going to be when he grows up? Financier — A blackmailer, I'm afraid. \ Friend—Impossible! What makes you think so? -Financier—We ‘have to give him something every little while to keep him quiet. i ees 4 i i H ~