Casper Daily Tribune Newspaper, January 9, 1917, Page 2

Beyond the Frontier by RANDALL PARRISH A Romance of Early Days in the Middle West Author ot “Keith of the Border,” “My Lady of Doubt,” “The Maid ‘of the Forest,” etc. Copyright, A. C. McClurg & Co. CHAPTER XXIV—Continued. —18— I cannot describe my feelings—joy, sorrow, memory of the past over- whelming me. My eyes were wet with tears, and I could find no words. D'Ar- tigny seemed to understand, yet he made no effort to speak, merely hold- ing me close with his strong arm. So in silence, our minds upon the past and the future, we followed the savages through the black night along the dim trail. For the time I forgot where I was, my weird, ghastly surroundings, the purpose of our stealthy advance, and remembered only my father, and the scenes of childhood, He must have comprehended, for he made no} attempt to Interrupt my reverie, and | his silence drew me closer—the steady pressure of his arm brought me peace. Suddenly before us loomed the shad- ow of the great rock, which rose a mighty barrier across the trail, its crest outlined against the sky. The Indians had halted here, and we pressed for- ward through them, until we came to where the chief and La Forest waited. ‘There was a growing tinge of light In the eastern sky, enabling us to perceive euch other’s faces. Al] was tense, ex- pectant, the Indians scarcely ventur- ing to breathe, the two white men con- versing in whispers. Sequitah stood motionless as a statue, his lips tightly closed. “Your scouts ventured no farther?” tioned D'Artigny, 9; "twas not safe; one man scaled the rock, and reports the Iroquois just beyond.” “They hide in covert where I sus- pected them; but I would see with my own eyes. There is crevice here, as I remember, to give foothold. Ay, here it Is, an easy passage enough. Come, La Forest, a glance ahead will make clear my plans.” The two clambered up nolselessly, and outstretched themselves on the flat surface above. The dawn brightened, almost Imperceptibly, so I could dis tinguish the savage forms on either side, some standing, some squatting on the grass, all motionless but alert, their weapons gleaming, their cruel eyes glittering from excitement. L Forest descended cautiously and turned toward me. “Madame, D’Artigny would have you Join him.” Surprised at the request I rested my foot in bis hand, and crept forward along the smooth surface until I lay beside Rene. He glanced aside into my face. “Do not ft your head,” he whis- pered. “Peer through this cleft in the stone.” Before us was a narrow opening, devold of vegetation, a sterile patch of stone and sand, and beyond this a fringe of trees, matted with under- brush below so as to make good screen, but sufficiently thinned out above, so that, from our elevation, we could look through the interlaced branches across the cleared space where the timber had been chopped away to the palisades of the fort. The first space was filled with warriors, crouching behind the cover of underbrush. Most of these were tying down, or upon their knees, watchfully peering through toward the fort gates, but a few were standing, or moving cautiously about bearing word of command, “Monsieur,” I whispered timidly, “you can never attack; there ure too many.” “They appear more numerous thap j they are,” he answered confidently, “but it will be a stiff fight. Not all Tuscaroras either; there are Eries yon- der to the right, and a few renegade Mohawks with them. Look, by the foot of that big tree, the fello% in war bon- net and deerskin shirt—what make you of him?" “A white man In spite of his paint.” “'Twas my guess also. I thought it Mkely they had a renegade with them, for this is not Indian strategy. La Forest was of the same opinion, al- though "twas too dark when he was here for us to make sure.” “For what are they walting and watching?” \ “The gates to open, no doubt. If they suspect nothing within, they will send out a party soon to reconnolter the trall, and reach the river below for water. It is the custom, and, no doubt, these devils know, and will wait their chance. They urge the laggards now.” We lay and watched them, his hand clasping mine. Those warriors who bad been lying prone rose to their knees, and, weapons in hand, crouched for a spring; the chiefs scattered, care- ful to keep concealed behind cover. Not a sound reached us, every move- I wiN wait just betow, but from where]!ng the mass asunder with sweep of THE CASPER DAILY TRIBUNE we are we can see nothing. You un-| rifle. They stood face to face, glaring Serstand?” “Surely, monsieur; I am to remain here and watch; then signal you when the fort gates open.” “Ay, that Is it; or if those savages advance into the open—they may not walt. “Yes, monsieur.” His lips touched mine, and I heard him whisper a word of endearment. “You are a brave girl.” “No, monsteur; I am frightened, ter- ribly frightened, but—but I love you, and am a Frenchwoman.” He crept back silently, and I was left alone on the great rock, gazing out anxiously into the gray morning. CHAPTER XXV. The Charge of the Iilint. It seemed a long time, yet it could searcely have exceeded a few mo- ments, for the light of early dawn was still dim and spectral, making those savage figures below appear strange and inhoman, while, through the tree barrier, the more distant stockade was little more than a vague shadow. I could barely distinguish the sharp- pointed logs, and if any guard passed, his movements were indistinguishable. Had I not known where they were. even the position of the gates would have been a mystery. Yet I lay there, my eyes peering through the cleft in the rock, every nerve in my body throb- bing. All had been intrusted to me; it was to be my signal which would send D'Artigny, La Forest, and their Indian allies forward. I must not fail them; I must do my part. Whatever the cost—even though it be his life— nothing could absolve me from this duty. The Iroquois were massing toward the center, directly In front of the closed gates, The change in formation was made with all the stealthiness of Indian cunning, the warriors creeping silently behind the concealing bushes, and taking up their new positions ac- cording to motions of their chiefs. Those having rifles loaded their weap- ons, while others drew knives and tom- ahawks from their belts, and held them glittering in the gray light. The white yoader remained beside the big tree. paying no apparent heed to anything excepting the stockade in front. The daylight brightene but overhung the valley, while wreaths of fog drifted between great rock and the fort gates, oc sionally even obscuring the Iroquois in vaporous folds. There was no sound, no sight, of those hidden below, wait- ing my word, 1 seemed utte alone. Suddenly I started, lifting myself slightly on one arm, so as to see more clearly. Ay, the gutes were opening, slowly at first, as though the great wooden hinges made resistance; then the two lea parted, and I had a giimpse within. Two soldiers pushed against the heavy logs, and, as they opened wider, a dozen or more men were revealed, leaning carelessly on thelr rifles. Boisrondet, bearing gun in the hollow of his arm, stepped for- ward into the opening, and gazed carelessly about over the gray, mist- shrouded scene, The arm of the white renegade shot into the air, and behind him the massed Lroquois arose to thelr feet, crouching behind their cover ready to spring. I reached over the rock edge, and dropped the handkerchief. I must have seen what followed, yet I do not know; the incidents seem burned on my memory, yet are so con- fused I can place them In no order. The white renegade seemed waiting, his arm upraised. Ere it fell in signal to dispatch his wild crew to the slaugh- mist clouds floating the ter, there was a crash of rifles all about me, the red flare leaping into the gray mist—a savage yell from a hundred throats, and a wild rush of naked bodies. I saw warriors of the Iroquols fling up their arms and fall; I saw them shrink and shrivel, break ranks and run. Surprised, stricken, terrified by the warwhoops of the maddened Illini, realizing only that they were caught between enemies, thelr one and only thought was escape. Two of their chiefs were down, and the white rene- gade, stumbling and falling as though also hurt, dived into the underbrush. Before they could rally, or even com- prehend what had occurred, their as- sailants were upon them. Leaping across the open, over rock and sand, yelling Ike fiends, weapons gleaming in the dull light, the frenzied Illini, en- flamed with revenge, maddened with hate, flung themselves straight at them. Rifles flashed in their faces, tomahawks whirled in the air, but nothing stopped that rush. Warriors fell, but the others stumbled over the naked bodies. I saw D’Artigny, stripped to his shirt, and that in rags from the bushes he had plunged through, his rifle barrel gripped, a yard in front of them all. I saw La Forest, bare headed, and Sequitah, his Indian stolcism forgotten in mad blood lust. Then they s‘ruck and were fost in the fierco maelstrom of struggle, strik- ing, falling, red hands gripping at red throats, rifle butts flung high, toma- hawks dealing the death blow, knives gleaming as sinewy arms drove them home. I could not Jonger distinguish enemy from friend; they: were inter- locked, s! ling like mad dogs, fight- might, a wild, tangled The Iroquois had rallied from first shock; already they realized the small number of the attackers. Those who had fled were into each other's eyes. The rifle in D'Artigny's hand was but a twisted bar of iron; the rene- gade’s only weapon was a murderous knife, its point reddened with blood. What word was said, I know not, but I saw D’Artigny fling his bar aside, and draw the knife at his belt. Mon Dieu! I could not look; I know not how they fought; I hid my eyes and prayed. When I glanced up again both were gone, the fighting mass was surging over the spit—but the Iroquols were in flight, seeking only some means of escape, while ovt through the fort gates the soldiers of the garrison were coming on a run, pouring volleys of lead into the fleeing savages. I saw De Tonty, De Baugis, De la Duran- taye—ay! and there was M. Cassion. back among the stragglers, waving his sword gallantly in the air. It was all over with so quickly I could but sit and stare; they ran past me in pur- sult, wild yells echoing through the woods, but all I thought of then was M. d’Artigny. I scrambled down the rock, falling heavily in my haste, yet once upon my feet again, rushed forth, reckless of danger. The ground was strewn with dead and wounded, the victorious IllIni already scattered in merciless, headlong pursult. Only a group of soldiers remained at the edge of the forest. Among these were De Tonty and La Forest. Neither noticed my approach until I faced them. “What, madame,” exclaimed Tonty, “you here also?” he paused as though In doubt, “and the Sieur d’Ar- tigny—had he part in this arms “A very important part, monsleur,” returned La Forest, stanching a wound on his forehead, yet bowing gal- lantly to me. “Twas Indeed his plan, and I permitted him command as he knows these Illini Indians better than 1” “But does he live, broke in anxiously. “Live! ay, very much allve—see, he comes yonder now. Faith, he fought Jules Lescatles knife to knife, and end- ed the career of that renegade. Is that not a recommendation, M. de Tonty?” The other did not answer; he was watching D’Artigny approach, his eyes filled with doubt. I stepped forward to greet him, with hands outstretched. He was rags from head to foot, spat- tered with blood, an ugly wound show- ing on one cheek, yet his lips and eyes siniled, “Twas g£00c monsieur?” I york, well done,” he sald cheerily. will be a while be fore the Iroquois beslege this fort § Is that not your thought, M. “I appreciate the service rendered,” replied the other gravely. “But you are in peril here. M. Cassion is yon- der, and still in command.” D'Artigny glanced inquiringly at La Forest, and the latter stepped forward, a leather-bound packet in his hands. “Your pardon, M. de Tonty,” he said. “I had forgotten my true mission here. I bear orders from the king of France.” “From Louls? La Salle has reached the king’s ear?” “Ay, good results. you, monsieur.” De Tonty took them, yet his thought was not upon thelr contents but with his absent chief. “You saw Sieur de la Salle nce? You left him well?” “More than well—triumphant over all his enemies. He sails for the mouth of the great river with a French col- ony; Louls authorized the expedition.” “And is that all “AN, except it was rumored at the court that La Berre would not for long semain governor of New France.” The face of the Italian did not change expression; slowly he opened the papers, and glanced at their oc tents; then folded them once moi and lifted his eyes to our faces. “By grace of the king,” he said sim- ply, “I am again in command of Fort St. Louis.” We made our way slowly through the fringe of woods, and across the open space before the fort gates, which still stood open. Cassion had disap- peared; indeed, there was not so much as a single guard at the gate when we entered, yet we were greeted in- stantly by his vyolce. “'Tis well you return, M. de Tonty,” he said loudly. “I was about to call those soldiers yonder, and close the gates. 'Tis hardly safe to have them left thus with all these strange Indians about.” “They are Illini, monsieur—our al- Hes.” “Pah! an Indian {is an Indlan to my mind; bid M. de la Durantaye come hither.” He stared at D'Artigny and me, seeing us first as he stepped for- ward. A moment he gasped, his voice failing; then anger conquered, and he strode forward, sword in hand. “Mon Dieu! What is this? You here again, you bastard wood ranger? I had hopes I was rid of you, even at the cost of a wife. Well, I soon will be. Here, Durantaye, bring your men: we have a prisoner here to stretch rope. De Tonty, I command you in the name of France!” The point of his sword was at D’Ar tigny’s breast, but the younger man stood motionless, his lips smiling, his eyes on the other’s face. “Perchance, monsieur,” be sald qui- etly, “it might be best for you fimst to raped en friend of mine.” lend? Sacre! What fellow tome? Who ts ne anithior = of La Salle’s spawn?” La Forest, still bareheaded, his fore- head bleeding, pressed down the sword- blade. “The company {s a good one,” hi said bluntly enongh, “snd just’ now well worth belonging to. I am Fran- cols de ia Forest, monsieur, one-time These are for in De | |proudly. “ feat of} commandant at Detroit; messenger from the king of France.” “King’s messenger — you! Mon Dieu! you Jook it, Come, man, what mummery is this?” “No mummery, monsieur. I left France two months since, bearing the king’s own word to M. la Barre. "Tis with his indorsement I journeyed hither to restore Henri de Tonty to his rightful command of Fort St. Louis.” “You lie!” Cassion cried hotly, eyes blazing hatred and anger, “’tis some hellish trick.” “Monsieur, never before did man say that to me, and live. Were you not felon and thief, I would strike you where you stand. Ay, I mean the words—now listen; lift that sword point, and I shoot you dead. Monsieur de Tonty, show the man the papers.” Cassion took them as though in a daze, his band trembling, his eyes burning with malignant rage. I doubt if he ever suw clearly the printed and written words of the document, but he seemed to grasp vaguely the face of La Barre's signature. “A forgery,” he gasped. “Ah, De Baugis, see here; these damned curs La Salle would play a trick on me. »ok at the paper.” The dragoon took it, and smoothed it out in his hands. His face was grave, as his eyes searched the printed Tis the great seal of France,” he § soberly, looking aboxt at the faces surrounding him, “and the signature the governor. How came it he y know me—Monsieur Francois la Forest.” y, I know you, ever a follower of Salle, and friend of Frontenac. through his Influence you got ‘Tis little use for us to quarrel, ou “Mon Dieu, I care not for such an order; it does not supersede my com- mission; I outrank this De Tonty.” “Hush, do not play the fool.” “Better the fool than the coward.” “Wait,” said La Forest sharply, “the matter is not ended. You are Fran- cois Cassion of Quebec?” “Major of infantry, commissaire of the Governor La Barre.” “So the titles read in this document. 1 arrest you by king’s order for trea- Cassion Leaped Forward and Drove Sword Point Into D’Artigny. son to France, and mutilation of offi cial records. Here is the warrant, M. de Baugis, and your orders to convey the pNsoner to Quebec for trial.” Cassion’s face went white, and he struggled madly for breath. De Bau- gis grasped the paper, so startled at this new development as to be in- capable of comprehension. “Under arrest? For what, monsieur? Treason, and mutilation of official rec- ords? What does it mean?” “This—the man knows, and will not deny the charge. False testimony sworn to, and signed by this Francois Cassion, charged Captain la Chesnayne with cowardice and treason. In con- sequence the latter was broken of his command, and his estates forfeited to the crown. Later, through the efforts of Frontenac, the king was convinced of injustice, and the estates were re- stored by royal order. This order reached Quebec, but was never re- corded. This Cassion was then prtvate secretary to the governor, and the pa- per came into his hands. Later, to hush up the scandal, he mzvried Cap- tain la Chesnayne’s daughter against her will. The day this was accom- plished the lost order was placed on file.” “You saw it?” “Yes, I had the files searched secret- ly. The order was dispatched from France five years ago, but was stamped as received the day Cassion departed from Quebec.” My eyes were upon the sg; I failed to note how the ese fae this damning charge. It was his voice which drew my attention — high- ee harsh, unnatural. on Dieu! 'twas not I—’ acer twas La “Tell that in Quebec; though little good ‘twill do you. M. de eee the king’s name I order this man’s arrest.” I saw De Baugis step forward, his hand outstretched; then all Baal fusion and struggle. With the hoarse snarl of a beast, Cassion leaped for- ward struck La Fofest with his shoul- der, and drove sword point into D’Ar tigny. De Tonty gripped him, but was hurled aside by insane strength, reel- ing back so that the weight of his body struck me to my knees. The next in- at present | stant, his sword point dripping blood, the runner was beyond reach, speeding for the open gate. What followed I khow from word of others, and no view I had of it. D'Artigny had fallen, huddled in 2 heap on the grass, and I dragged my- self to him on my knees. I heard oaths, a shuffling of feet, a rush of bodies, a voice I did not recognize shouting some order—then the sharp crack of a rifle, and silence. I cared not what had occurred; I had D’Artigny'’s head in my arms, and his eyes opened and smiled up at me full of courage. “You are badly burt?” “No, I think not; the thrust was too high. Lift me, and I breathe better The man must have been mad.” “Surely yes, monsieur; think you he had hope of escape?” “Tis likely he thought only cf re venge. Ah, you are here also, De Tonty “Yes, lad; there is smal] use for me yonder. You are not seriously struck bad “TI bleed freely, but the thrust was In the shoulder. I could stand, I think. with your ald.” . On his feet he leaned heavily on us both, yet would not be led away, until! La Forest joined us. He held in his hand some papers, yet neither of us questioned him. “Monsieur de Tonty,” he said, would have private word with you.” “When I help D’Artigny to his bed, and have Jook at his wound. Yet is !t not matter of interest to these as well “I take it so. “Then speak your message—M. Cas- sion is dead?” “The sentry’s bullet found his heart, monsieur.” “I saw him fall. Those papers were upon him—are they of value?’ That I know not; they possess no meaning to me, but they were ad- dressed to the man killed at St. Ig- nace.” “Hugo Chevet?” I exclaimed. “My uncle; may I not see them, monsieur?” De ity placed them in my hands— a letter from a lawyer in Quebec, with a form of petition to the king, and a report of his reh of the archives of New France. The other document was the sworn affidavit of Jules Beaubaou, a clerk of records, that he had seen and read a paper purporting to be a restoration from the king to the heirs of Captain la Chesnayne. It was signed and sealed. I looked up at the faces surrounding me: startled and frightened at this witness from the dead. They are papers belonging to Che ve sked De Tonty. “Yes, mousieur—see. He must have known, suspected the truth before our departure, yet had no thought such villainy was the work of M. Cassion. He sought evidence.” That is the whole story. no doubt La re learned of his search, for he would have spies in plenty, and wrote his letter of warning to Cassion. The latter, fearing the worst, and desperate, did not even hesitate at murder to gain possession of these documents. Fate served him well, and gave him D'Artigny as a victim. I wonder only that he did not long ago destroy the papers.” “There is always some weakness in crime,” commented La Forest, “and the mon has paid penalty for his. It would be my guess he desired to place them in La Barre’s hands in proof of his loyalty. But, messieurs, D’Artigny needs to have his wound dressed. We can discuss all this later,” . ee . * #1 . * It was two days later, and the bright sunshine rested on Fort St. Louis, flecking the sides of the great rock with and t ng the broad valley below. D'Artigny, yet too weak to rise unaided, sat in a chair Barbeau had made Deside the open window, and to his call I joined him, my arm on his shoulder as I also gazed down upon the scene below. It was one of peace now, the silvery Illinois wind- ing hither and yon among its green islands, the shadowy woods darken- ing one bank, and the vast meadows stretching northward from the other. Below the bend an Indian village, al ready rebuilt and occupied, slept in the sun, and I could see children and dogs playing before the tepees. Down the sharp trail from the fort a line of Indian packers were toiling slowly, their backs supporting heavy burdens, which they bore to two ca- noes resting against the bank. About these were grouped little party of white men, and when nt last the sup- plies were all aboard, severai took their places at the paddles, and pushed off into the stream, There was waving of bands, and one among them—even at that distance I could tell La Forest—looked up at our window, and raised his hat in gesture of farewell. I watched until they rounded the rock and disappeared on their long journey to Quebec, until the others—exiles of the wilderness— turned away and began to climb up- ward to the fort gates. D’Artigny’s mine closed softly over mine. ‘ou are sad, sweethi ; too for New France?” See ae “No, dear one,” I answered, read the truth In my eyes. “Wher, coer aoe are is my home. On this rock in the great valley we wi other—and France.” ei THE END. —_———_—_ Something .New, Please. “Can you bear it if I tell you some- thing seriots?” ventured husband. eee yomne “Yes; don’t keep from me,” gasped the bride. “Remember, this does not mean that my love for you is growing less.” “Don't break my heart. What ts it?” “Well, my dear, I'm getting tired of angel food every day for dinner. Would it be too much to ask you to have liver and onions?” ' li HIS TWiRLERS LAUDS Manager Donovan Expects Them to Be Best in League. Every Member of Squad of Last Sem son Will Be Kept—Shawkey Has Been Most’ Reliable—Cullop and Mogridge Also Star. Although his pitching staff was in none too good condition at the end of the past season, “Bill” Donovan is san- guine that with a fair share of. good fortune his box brigade will be one of the best, if not the best, in the Ameri- can league next year. It is a foregone conclus‘on that ev- ery member of the present squad will remain with the team and that next season the Yanks will have at least seven pitchers. Those who are rea- sonably certain of their positions are “Bob” Shawkey, “Nick” Cullop, George Mogridge, Allan Russell and Urban Shocker. Shawkey has been by far the most reliable of Donovan's pitch- ers this season, while Cullop and Mo- gridge, too, have done splendid work, except when injuries impaired their effectiveness. “I believe the Yankees will be one of the best teams in the American league next season,” remarked Dono- Nick Cullop. van. “For one reason, I expect to have the best pitching staff in the league, and a club with a topnoteh twirling staff will have a big advantage on its rivals. “Shawkey was our most dependable pitcher this season, and I expect him to have just as good a year next sea- ton, Shawkey is a hard and energetic worker and is my idea of an ideal Bob Shawkey. pitcher. It is pretty certain also that Cullop, Mogridge and the other pitch- ers with us now will be on the-club next Season. “Our pitching staff had a lot of wretched luck last season, and that helped largely to beat us out of the flag. Cullop, one of the best south- paws in either league, pulled a muscle at a time when he was needed most and had to stay out of the game for a few weeks. Mogridge, too, was laid up when his services were needed, But that is part of the game. Next sea- son, provided we get our share of the breaks, I expect the ‘Yanks’ to be in the race all the way and that the pitching staff will surprise the base- ball realm.” SCOTT IS, CAPITAL FIELDER Appears Indifferent on Field, But Grabs Everything Hit in Direc-