Lords of the North Part 45

Louis help one not able help himself! Ha! _Tres bien! n.o.blesse oblige!

La Gloire!_ She--near! She here! She where I, Louis Laplante, son of a seigneur, snare that she-devil, trap that fox, trick the tigress!

Ha--ol' tombstone! _n.o.blesse oblige_--I say! She near--she here," and he flung up both arms like a frenzied maniac.

"Man! Are you mad?" I demanded, uncertain whether he were apostrophizing Diable's squaw, or abstract glory. "Speak out!" I shouted, shaking him by the shoulder.

"These--are they all friends?" asked Louis, suddenly cooled and looking suspiciously at the group.

"All," said I, still holding him by the shoulder.

"That--that thing--that bear--that bruin--he a friend?" and Louis pointed to Mr. Sutherland.

"Friend to the core," said I, laying both hands upon his shoulders.

"Core with p.r.i.c.kles outside," gibed Louis.

"Louis," I commanded, utterly out of patience, "what of Miriam? Speak plain, man! Have you brought the tribe as you promised?"

It must have been mention of Miriam's name, for the white, drawn face of Eric Hamilton bent over my shoulder and fiery, glowing eyes burned into the very soul of the Frenchman. Louis staggered back as if red irons had been thrust in his face.

"_Sacredie_," said he, backing against Father Holland, "I am no murderer."

It was then I observed that Frances Sutherland had followed me. Her slender white fingers were about the bronzed hand of the French adventurer.

"Monsieur Laplante will tell us what he knows," she said softly, and she waited for his answer.

"The daughter of _L'Aigle_," he replied slowly and collectedly, all the while feasting upon that fair face, "comes down the Red with her tribe and captives, many captive women. They pa.s.s here to-night. They camp south the rapids, this side of the rapids. Last night I leave them. I run forward, I find Le Pet.i.t Garcon--how you call him?--Leetle Fellow?

He take me to the priest. He bring canoe here. He wait now for carry us down. We must go to the rapids--to the camp! There my contract! My bargain, it is finished," and he shrugged his shoulders, for Frances had removed her hand from his.

Whether Louis Laplante's excitable nature were momentarily unbalanced by the success of his feat, I leave to psychologists. Whether some premonition of his impending fate had wrought upon him strangely, let psychical speculators decide. Or whether Louis, the sly rogue, worked up the whole situation for the purpose of drawing Frances Sutherland into the scene--which is what I myself suspect--I refer to private judgment, and merely set down the incidents as they occurred. That was how Louis Laplante told us of bringing Diable's squaw and her captives back to Red River. And that was how Father Holland and Eric and Louis and Mr.

Sutherland and myself came to be embarking with a camping outfit for a canoe-trip down the river.

"Have the Indians pa.s.sed, or are they to come?" I asked Louis as Mr.

Sutherland and Eric settled themselves in a swift, light canoe, leaving the rest of us to take our places in a larger craft, where Little Fellow, gurgling pleased recognition of me, acted as steersman.

"They come later. The fast canoe go forward and camp. We watch behind,"

ordered Louis, winking at me significantly.

I saw Frances step to her father's canoe.

"You're no coming, Frances," he protested, querulously.

"Don't say that, father. I never disobeyed you in my life, and I _am_ coming! Don't tell me not to! Push out, Mr. Hamilton," and she picked up a paddle and I saw the canoe dart swiftly forward into mid-current, where the darkness enveloped it; and we followed fast in its wake.

"Louis," said I, trying to fathom the meaning of his wink, "are those Indians to come yet?"

"No. Simpleton--you think Louis a fool?" he asked.

"Why did you lie to them?"

"Get them out of the way."

"Why?"

"Because, stupid, some ones they be killed to-night! The Englishman, he have a wife--he not be killed! Mademoiselle--she love a poor fool--or break her pretty heart! The father--he needed to stick-pin you both--so you never want for to fight each other," and Louis laughed low like the purr of water on his paddle-blade.

"Faith, lad," cried the priest, who had been unnaturally silent, because, I suppose, he was among aliens to his faith, "faith, lad, 'tis a good heart ye have, if ye'd but cut loose from the binding past. May this night put an end to your devil pranks!"

And that night did!

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE LAST OF LOUIS' ADVENTURES

I think, perhaps, the reason good enterprises fail so often where evil ventures succeed, is that the good man blunders forward, trusting to the merits of his cause, where the evil manipulator proceeds warily as a cat over broken gla.s.s. And so, altogether apart from his services as guide, I felt Louis Laplante's presence on the river a distinct advantage.

"The Lord is with us, lad. She shall be delivered! The Lord is with us; but don't you bungle His plans!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Father Holland for the twentieth time; and each time the French trapper looked waggishly over his shoulder at me and winked.

"Bungle! Pah!" Louis clapped his paddle athwart the canoe and laughed a low, sly, defiant laugh. "Bungle! Pah! Catch Louis bungle his cards, ha, ha! Trumps! He play trumps--he hold his hand low--careless--nodings in it--he keep quiet--nodings worth play in his hand--but his sleeve--ha, ha!" and Louis laughed softly and winked at the full moon.

"The daughter of L'Aigle, she cuff Louis, she slap his cheek, she call him lump--lout--slouch! Ha, ha!--Louis no fool--he pare the claws of L'Aigle to-night!"

At that, Little Fellow's stolid face took on a vindictive gleam, and he snapped out something in Indian tongue which set Louis to laughing.

Suddenly the Indian's paddle was suspended in mid-air, and Little Fellow bent over the prow, gazing at the moon-tracked water.

"_Sacredie!_" cried Louis, catching up water that trickled through his fingers, "'tis dried rabbit thong! They are ahead of us! They have pa.s.sed while that Scotch mule was balk! We must catch the Englishman,"

and he began hitting out with his paddle at a great rate.

We had overtaken Mr. Sutherland's canoe within half an hour of Louis'

discovery, and Eric wheeled about with a querulous demand.

"What's wrong? Are they ahead? I thought you said they were behind," and he turned suspiciously to Laplante.

"You thought wrong," said Louis, ever facile with subterfuges. "You thought wrong, Mister High-and-Mighty! Camp here and watch; they come before morning!"

"No lies to me," shouted Eric, becoming uncontrollably excited. "If you mislead us, your life shall----"

"Pig-head! I no save your wife for back chin! Camp here, I say," and Louis' fitful temper began to show signs of sulking.

"For goodness' sake, Eric, do what you're told! We've made a bad enough business of it----"

"Give the Frenchman a chance! Do what you're told, I say, ye blunderers!

Troth, the Lord Himself couldn't bring success to such blundering idiots," was Father Holland's comment.

"I'll take na orders frae meddlesome papists," began the Scotchman; but Little Fellow had forcibly turned the prow of the canoe sh.o.r.eward. I gave them a shove with my paddle. Frances took the cue, and while her father was yet scolding raised her paddle and had them close to the river bank.