The Shadow of Victory: A Romance of Fort Dearborn

The gate was lifted and seven men came in, carrying the mattress on which lay Mrs. Burns and her baby. Mrs. Franklin led the way to her hospitable door, where Mrs. Mackenzie and Katherine were already waiting to do what they could in the way of making the mother and child comfortable.

It was Mrs. Mackenzie who first noticed that Ronald was not with them. "Where's George?" she asked, in a low tone.

"He's gone up the river, ma'am," answered one of the soldiers. "We begged him not to, but he would go, and he wouldn't let a one of us go with him. He thought he heard a noise, so he went up-stream to see what it was."

Mr. Burns had seen no Indians, but, like the others, thought they were gathering in the woods. He was far away from the house at the time the man had shouted the warning; but he had heard the two shots at Lee's and the guns from the Fort.

"Captain," said Lieutenant Howard, "I'll be one of a party to go and find Ronald. He's probably up at Lee's."

"You won't," growled the Captain, biting his mustache. "Just because the young fool chooses to risk his life for nothing, I won't expose five or six men to danger. We have none to spare."

"How did he go?" asked the Doctor of Mr. Burns.

"He took my boat. He'll pull back down-stream quick enough if anything is wrong."

"No he won't," returned the Doctor, warmly; "you don't know the lad."

Robert walked back and forth on the parade-ground, sorely troubled on his own account, and deeply concerned for the safety of his friend. Mackenzie shared his anxiety, but quickly vetoed the suggestion that they two follow him.

"'T ain't no manner of use, Rob," he said, kindly. "We're under military orders, and you heard what the Captain said. Besides, that dare-devil boy ain't afraid of anything, and I guess he'll come out with a whole skin – he always has."

"Were you thinking of going after him, Cousin Rob?" asked Beatrice, sweetly.

He started at the sound of her voice, then looked full in her face with no sign of recognition. Beatrice met his eyes squarely until he turned on his heel and walked away, followed by a peal of light, mocking laughter that cut into his heart like a knife.

"What's the matter between you and Rob?" asked the trader, curiously.

"Nothing," answered the girl, shrugging her shoulders; "but I was amused a little while ago because he was so frightened – he was scared almost to death."

Mackenzie's eyes glittered as he peered at her keenly from under his bushy brows. "Don't say that again, my girl," he said, huskily, "for fear doesn't run in the Forsyth blood. His grandfather was killed at Lexington."

"A boat is coming," shouted a man from the blockhouse. Shortly afterward, the fishing party came in, tired but triumphant, with a long string of river fish. They had seen no Indians, and had not met Ronald.

"Did you hear the gun?" asked the Captain.

"Yes, sir," replied one of the soldiers. "We were up on the North Branch and thought it was a warning, so we laid low for a while. Then, as we didn't hear anything more, we came on down as quietly as we could."

"Everything all right at Lee's?" asked Lieutenant Howard.

"As far as we saw, sir."

Still there was uneasiness regarding the Ensign. Katherine was pale, Mrs. Franklin was crying, and Beatrice had her small hands clenched tightly together. Suddenly they all knew how much they should miss him if —

Then there was a familiar whistle outside, the sentinel opened the gate, and Ronald came in with a big black and white dog in his arms.

"I thought I heard him howling," he said, in answer to the torrent of questions, "so I went on up to Lee's to get him. The devils have been there all right, – the guns must have frightened them away.

"Yes," he continued in a low tone, in answer to a whispered question from Howard; "White and Frenchy. White was shot and stabbed in the breast and poor Frenchy was scalped – the whole top of his head lifted off. The dog was guarding the body."

"What's that?" asked Mrs. Franklin, from the edge of the group where all the women were standing together. "Speak louder – we can't hear."

The deep-toned bell tolled taps, and there was a general movement toward quarters. "I was just talking about the dog," shouted Ronald to the women.

"He fought me at first," he continued, addressing the Lieutenant and the Doctor; "but I soon won his heart. Poor old boy," he said, stroking the dog, "he didn't want to be made into a stew, did he?"

"We must go up to-morrow," said the Lieutenant.

"What are you going to call him?" asked the Doctor.

"Major, I guess – we haven't a major here."

Lieutenant Howard's white teeth showed in a sarcastic smile. "You might call him 'Captain,'" he said, twisting his mustache, "for the same good reason."

CHAPTER VIII

THOROUGHBREDS

The guard was doubled that night and the small force was ready for instant action. Sentinels patrolled the river bank and stood at the gates; while in the blockhouses the cannon were trained through the port-holes, and men kept vigilant watch.

At three o'clock the terrified bleating of the sheep aroused every one but the children. A sentinel fired his musket and retreated to the Fort, then a heavy gun rumbled ominously.

Once again the parade-ground filled with people. "What is it? What is it?" they cried.

"Indians," Captain Franklin explained. "They went after the horses, but didn't find them, so they stabbed the sheep and turned them loose. The sentry saw some of them in the pasture, and fired, then ran to the Fort. A tomahawk just missed him – it grazed his head and struck a waggon wheel. The cannon must have frightened them away."

So it proved, for the next morning a trail of blood led from the pasture toward the woods. The sheep lay dead on the plains around the Fort, but search parties found nothing, though they scoured the woods thoroughly for miles around.

Chandonnais appeared at the usual time for work, but refused to say where he had been. When he was asked unpleasant questions, he always pretended that he did not understand, and from this position neither man nor woman could swerve him a hair's breadth.

Lieutenant Howard, with four men, went up the river to Lee's and buried the two victims of the night before. "It wasn't good to look at," he said to Ronald, when he returned.

"I know," answered the Ensign; "I found out that much last night. I didn't dare strike a light, but I felt – " He turned his face away and swallowed hard. "Don't tell the women," he concluded.

"I won't," said Howard, "and I've made the boys promise not to talk. There's no use of making things worse than they are."

Major sat at Ronald's feet, listening intelligently, and thumping the ground vigorously with his bushy tail. "Poor old boy," said his new master, affectionately; "it was pretty bad, wasn't it? He's a nice dog, isn't he, Howard?"

"Washing would help him."

"He's going to have his Spring bath the first warm day. How do you suppose dogs know whom they belong to? Major knows he's mine, and nobody could get him away from me."

Beatrice came out of Captain Franklin's and took a careful survey of the Fort. It was a gloomy place at best, but the disorder of the night made it worse.

"Good-morning," said the Lieutenant, as he passed her on his way home.

"Good-morning," returned the girl, including Ronald in the salutation. Then she whistled to the dog, but he paid no attention to the call other than to lean heavily against his master.

"He's mine," laughed Ronald, meeting her, "and you can't have him. How do you like living in the Fort?"

"I don't like it," she answered disdainfully. "It's about as cheerful as a tomb. I'm glad we're going home."

Ronald lifted his brows inquiringly. "Who's going home?"

"Why, all of us – Uncle John, Aunt Eleanor, the children, and – and Cousin Rob."

"Oh, no, you're not! You're going to stay here."

"Who said so?"

"I say so," replied George, mischievously.

"Can't I go out of the Fort?"

"No."

"We'll see," said Beatrice, tossing her head.

She ran to the gate, but he was there before her and effectually barred the way.

"Let me pass," she said icily.

"I'm sorry, Miss Manning, but you can't go without permission from the Captain. You are under military orders, and no soldier or citizen is to leave the Fort without a guard. After sunset no one but the sentries can pass the gates."

"For how long?" demanded Beatrice.

"Till the Captain orders otherwise."

"And I'm to stay here, then, without a hat, or even a clean handkerchief, until His Majesty sees fit to let me go to my own home in broad daylight!"

The colour flamed in her cheeks, and her eyes snapped dangerously. The Ensign was enjoying the situation hugely, and thought Beatrice was the prettiest girl he had ever seen. In fact, he was on the point of saying so, but, fortunately, thought better of it.

"You can go if I go with you," he suggested.

"Then I'll stay here," announced Beatrice, with unconcealed scorn. She walked away from him with her head high, and went straight to Captain Franklin.

"Gone to see if I lied to her," laughed Ronald to himself. "She's a mettlesome damsel – devilish mettlesome."

"That is my order," said the Captain, in answer to her question, "and it must be obeyed."

"Can't I go home at all?"

"Certainly, for a few minutes at a time. Ask Ensign Ronald to go with you this afternoon."

The Captain turned away, and Beatrice gazed at his retreating figure with fire in her eyes. "Fool!" she said aloud, stamping her foot; "I won't ask him. I'll stay here till I die before I'll ask him!"

Captain Franklin's house immediately became offensive to her, and she knew Robert was at Katherine's, teaching the children. The parade-ground was odious, because Ronald was walking briskly around it for exercise. Her uncle passed her with the coolest kind of a nod, remembering what she had said about Robert the night before, and she began to wish she had never left Fort Wayne.

Only the stables remained, and she went there to see the friend who never failed her. Queen pranced in her stall and tapped with her dainty hoofs impatiently.

"I can't take you out, Beauty," she said sadly, "because they won't let us leave the Fort."

Queen put her nose into the girl's neck and was immediately slapped. "You're not allowed to do that," said Beatrice, sternly, turning away. Queen whinnied and Beatrice understood that the offender was very sorry and very lonely, and would never do it again, so she went back.

"I'll take you around the Fort if you'll be good," she said. Her saddle was hanging there, but she preferred to ride without it, so she replaced the halter with a bridle and went out, mounted, hoping Ronald was not there.

But he was still walking around the parade-ground, with Major in his wake. Queen pricked up her ears but went on, obediently, at the slow pace which was better than nothing. Ronald smiled to himself as Beatrice crossed and turned so that if he kept on he would appear to be following her.

Twice, three times the procession went round the square, with the dog bringing up the rear, before a bright idea struck the Ensign. By slow-degrees he slackened his pace, and as they passed Lieutenant Howard's for the fifth time, Mrs. Mackenzie came out on the piazza.

"What's the matter, Bee?" she called; "can't you catch him?"

In half a minute Queen was in her stall, much surprised, and not a little displeased at the sudden termination of her exercise. "You wretch," whispered Beatrice, as she dismounted; "whatever possessed you to follow him?"

The coast was clear when she left the stables, but she went to Mrs. Howard's in a bad humour. She was not upon good terms with any one, and would have have started back to Fort Wayne that afternoon if it had been possible. She smiled grimly as she realised that, by her own act, she had forever cut herself off from her friends there. "I'll have to fight it out here," she said to herself; "I seem destined to fight."

Mrs. Franklin went to Mrs. Howard's to invite Beatrice to dinner, and was much disappointed when she refused. "Thank you," Beatrice said, trying hard to be pleasant; "but I'll stay with Aunty and Cousin Kit this time. I haven't a doubt you'll get tired of me, though, before His High Mightiness lets me go home."

She could have bitten her tongue out for the unlucky speech, but, to her relief, the Captain's wife misunderstood. "I saw you at the gate this morning," she laughed, "arguing with George. It's no use – he always has his own way."

"What a narrow escape!" she exclaimed, as Mrs. Franklin went out. "Aunt Eleanor, this is one of my bad days."

"You mustn't say any day is bad, dear," replied Mrs. Mackenzie, "because each one is what we make it. We begin afresh every morning with the day in our own hands. I'm sorry this has happened; but I'm very glad we had the Fort to come to, and I am sure you can find something pleasant here if you only look for it."

Nine people crowded around Mrs. Howard's table at dinner time, but Mackenzie and Robert barely spoke to Beatrice. The tribal instinct was strong in the trader, and Robert was of his blood. Katherine perceived that something was wrong and did her best to produce harmony, in which she was ably seconded by her husband. The Lieutenant was in a very pleasant frame of mind.

"Cousin Bee," said Ellen, "are you coming to visit the school this afternoon?" Beatrice was talking with Katherine and did not seem to hear.

"Tuzzin Bee," screamed Maria Indiana, "is oo tummin?"

"No, dear," answered Beatrice, quickly.

"Why not?" asked Mrs. Mackenzie, innocently; "it might amuse you, Bee."

"I doubt it," said the girl. "I'm going to help Kit."

"Cousin Rob put her out," explained Johnny, "because she told a lie."

Above everything else on earth, Beatrice hated to wash dishes, but she plunged into the work with a will after dinner, as a penance, and in spite of Mrs. Howard's protests.

"It's so good of you to help me," sighed Katherine, as the last dish was put away; "for mother is tired out, and I have a headache. None of us slept much last night, I fancy."

"I know I didn't, but I seldom sleep in the daytime. I wish you and Aunt Eleanor would go and lie down. I can take care of myself."

"All right," answered Katherine, "if you don't mind."

Beatrice sat by the window a little while after the house became quiet, then went over to Mrs. Franklin's, but there was no response to her rap. "Everybody's asleep, I guess," she said to herself.

She went to the gate and looked out longingly into the bright Spring sunshine. The sentinel passed her with his musket over his shoulder, and went on around the Fort. She heard his measured steps die away in the distance, and wondered, mechanically, how long it took him to make the round.

It seemed a long time before she heard him coming. A pirogue was tied to a sapling on the river bank and the oars lay near it. Across the stream the lonely house was beckoning to her to come. She slipped out of the gate and leaned up against the stockade outside. Then the sentry passed again.

"Against orders, Miss," he said.

"What?" asked Beatrice.

"Standin' outside."

"Oh," she said, returning to the gate. "Can I stand here?"

"Yes'm, if you don't go no further. Orders is to stay inside."

"All right." She smiled brilliantly, then inquired, in a tone of polite interest, "Are you all alone here?"

"Yes'm. My mate's at mess."

"Too bad. It's lonely for you, isn't it?"

"Yes'm, but I'm used to it."

He went on, and she watched him till he turned the first corner. A backward glance assured her that the parade-ground was deserted, so she edged out of the gate again, and, under cover of the stockade, ran to the pirogue, snatched up the oars, and started across.

The blood beat hard in her pulses, but she was not afraid, and the rare delight of disobeying military orders set her head awhirl. She expected to see the esplanade fill with soldiers, shouting to her to come back, but nothing happened. She reached the other bank safely, tied the pirogue, and ran into the house. From the window of the living-room she saw the sentry pass once more. His head was bowed and he did not notice that a boat was gone.

Then Ronald came out of the Fort alone and took another boat. She shrank back to the farthest corner of the room, and her heart stood still until she saw him turn up-stream. "There," she said to herself, "he's disobeying orders, too, for he's gone without a guard. If he can do it, there's no reason why I shouldn't."

Unconsciously, Beatrice had sustained a high nervous strain for too long a period. The quarrel with her aunt and uncle at Fort Wayne had been an affair of no small moment at the time, and the preparation for the journey and the long horseback ride had told upon her strength. The excitement of her arrival, new scenes and new faces, and the fright of the night before had taxed her still further, and her trouble with Robert had hurt her more deeply than she knew. She had reached the fine dividing line between a let-down and a break.

The indescribable loneliness of the house was depressing. The bare walls seemed to whisper back and forth, and the table, still set for supper, had a ghastly look about it. The rooms were not merely alone, but untenanted. Cold ashes lay upon the hearths, the dust had settled upon the chairs, and the sunlight outside only served to heighten the gloom.

In the schoolroom the books were piled neatly upon the table, and the slates were clean – ready for the next day's task. She experienced an unwonted twinge of conscience as she entered, unrebuked, and remembered how exasperating she had been.

At the Fort she had thought of many things she needed, but now her errand seemed purposeless, and the pleasures of disobedience began to pall. She went into her room, gathered up some of her toilet articles, and stood there, listlessly, watching the sentinel as he passed again without missing the boat.

"They're fine soldiers," she said to herself. "They know lots."

Then her heart gave a great leap, for there was a soft step at the back door. Some one entered very quietly, and she became as cold and immovable as if she had been made of stone. The catlike tread moved slowly into the living-room, and she trembled like an aspen. She tried to raise the window, thinking that she could scream if she could not get out, but her hands shook so that it was useless. Meanwhile the intruder came nearer, with the same stealthy steps. No one had crossed the river and the sentinel was not in sight.

Some one opened the door of the schoolroom and closed it with the least possible noise. Then the hushed steps came nearer still, but the window would not move. Her door was open, but she knew the flimsy lock would not hold, even if she could manage to shut it. An instant – now – she tried to shut her eyes, but could not – horror upon horror came upon her – then Ronald entered her room.

For a blind instant the earth whirled beneath her, then the flood-gates opened and Beatrice wept. He did as any other man in his place would have done and put a protecting arm around her, but, though sorely tempted, manfully refrained from kissing her.

"I'm so sorry I frightened you," he said, with bitter self-reproach. "Don't, Beatrice – Miss Manning, – please don't cry any more!"

As soon as she was conscious of her position, she drew away from him, still sobbing. It was not only her fright, but the natural result of the high tension at which she had lived for more than a week. He left her and rummaged around until he found a bottle of brandy, then he brought her a glass of water liberally strengthened with it.

"Here," he said, "drink this."

She obeyed, and in a few minutes began to recover her self-possession. "How did you get here?" she asked.

"I went up the river a little way, landed on this side, and walked down to the back door. You didn't suppose I'd let you come over here alone, did you?"

"Did you see me when I came?"

"Certainly. I expected you to do just what you did, and I kept my eye on you. I knew you were in the house, because I saw the boat outside, but I didn't mean to frighten you. I just thought I'd look around until we met."

"You – you – walked so softly," she said, with quivering lips.

"Did I? That's the first time I've ever been accused of that. It must have been your imagination."

"Perhaps," she answered, with a long sigh.

"If you have everything you want, we'll go back now."

Scarcely conscious of what she did, she stooped to pick up the things that had fallen to the floor. They seemed utterly useless for all time, but she felt the necessity of action. As they turned to leave the room, he took her cold hands in his and looked down into her wet eyes.

"Promise me," he said, "that you will never again disobey a military order."

She hesitated, and he repeated it.

"How do you know I'd keep a promise?" she asked, to gain time.

"Because you're a thoroughbred."

Something in his eyes subdued her. "I promise," she said, almost in a whisper.

"All right. Now, we'll not say anything about this to any one – do you understand?"

She was still trembling when he helped her into the pirogue, and neither spoke while they were crossing. When they entered the gate, Captain Franklin met them.

"Did she ask you to take her over?" he inquired of Ronald.

The Ensign's eyes met his squarely. "Yes, sir."

"Did you go together? I thought I saw you going alone."

"We went together. She was waiting for me outside."

"Very well. I will have no disobedience of my orders – remember that, both of you."

"Don't faint," George whispered, warningly, as the Captain walked away. "It's all right now, but that's the first time I ever lied – in my official capacity."

Beatrice put a small, icy hand into his own. "Thank you," she said quietly; "you're a thoroughbred, too."

CHAPTER IX

ON THE FORT WAYNE TRAIL

As silently as they had gone, the Indians returned. No one but the sentinels saw the ghostly procession when it passed the Fort from the southward, in the grey mists of dawn. Black Partridge was still at the head, the others following him in single file.

The deserted wigwams in the hollow were as they had left them, and inside of an hour they had taken up the thread of existence at the point where the annual pilgrimage had broken it off. Some exchanges of gifts were made among them; but, in the main, each one was satisfied with what he had received.

Early in the morning the chief went to the trading station, and, finding it deserted, went immediately to the Fort in search of his friend Shaw-nee-aw-kee. They had a long conversation on the parade-ground, and soldiers and civilians gathered around them, listening impatiently until the interpreter was ready to speak.

"I understand it now," said Mackenzie to the Captain. "He says that while they were up in Canada, the Chippewas and Ottawas sent speeches among them, saying the northern tribes had heard that the Pottawattomies and Winnebagoes were not upon good terms with the white people and that they desired them to be friendly. His own people only laughed, but the Winnebagoes determined to show their independence in a refusal to obey the commands of other tribes. So a dozen braves came here to take some white scalps, that they might flaunt them in the faces of the others. He says a large force was waiting in the woods, and that they would doubtless have killed every one outside of the Fort, even if they did not make an attack upon the Fort itself, but that the guns of the White Father frightened them away."

Here the chief began to talk again, with many gestures.

"He says," continued Mackenzie, "that we need not now be afraid, since he and his people have returned to protect us. He is sorry that his friends have suffered during his absence, and after this a part of the tribe will always remain here, while the others go after their gifts."

"We can go home, then," said Mrs. Mackenzie.

"Isn't he splendid!" exclaimed Beatrice. "I'd like to paint his picture. Do you think he'd let me, Uncle John?"

It took a great deal of explanation to make Black Partridge understand, but he finally consented, on condition that the picture would be given to him. "He's afraid the white squaw will make a charm," said Mackenzie.