"Chaumonot!" exclaimed the Chevalier.
The kindly priest extended his hands, and the four white men
respectfully brushed them with their lips. It was a tribute less to
his office than to his appearance; for not one of them saw in his
coming aught else than a good presage and probable liberation.
Chaumonot was accompanied by Father Dablon, the Black Kettle,--now
famous among his Onondaga brothers as the one who had crossed the evil
waters, and two friendly Oneida chiefs. There ensued a prodigious
harangue; but at the close of it the smile on Chaumonot's face
signified that he had won his argument.
"You are free, my sons," he said. "It took some time to find you, but
there is nothing like perseverance in a good cause. At dawn you will
return with me to Onondaga. Monsieur," addressing the Chevalier; "and
how is the health of Monsieur le Marquis, your kind father?"
The smile died from the Chevalier's face. "Monsieur le Marquis is at
Quebec; I can not say as regards his health."
"In Quebec?"
"Yes, Father," Victor interposed.
"How did you know that we were here ?" asked the vicomte.
"Pauquet, in his wanderings, finally arrived at Onondaga two weeks ago.
Upon hearing his story I at once began a search. We are virtually at
peace with the Senecas and the Oneidas."
"And . . . the women?" inquired Victor, his heart's blood gushing to
his throat.
The two Jesuits solemnly shook their heads.
Victor laid his head against the Chevalier's arm to hide the bitter
tears.
"No sign?" asked the Chevalier calmly. All the joy of the rescue was
gone.
"None. They were taken by a roving band of Senecas, of whom nothing
has been heard. They are not at the Senecas' chief village."
However great the vicomte's disappointment may have been, his face
remained without any discernible emotion. But he turned to
D'Hérouville, his tone free from banter and his dark eyes full of
menace: "Monsieur le Comte, you and I shall soon straighten out our accounts."
"For my part, I would it were to-morrow. Our swords will be given back
to us. Take heed, Vicomte," holding out a splendid arm, as if calling
the vicomte's attention to it.
The vicomte twisted his shoulder and made a grimace. "I will kill you
as certainly as we stand here. It is written. And after you . . ."
D'Hérouville could not piece together this broken sentence.
Four days later, the first of October, they came to the mission. The
lake of Onondaga lay glittering in the sunshine, surrounded by green
valleys, green hills, and crimsoning forests. As they arrived at the
palisade and fort, Du Puys, sighting them, fired a salute of welcome.
The echoes awoke, and hurried to the hills and back again with
thrilling sound. The deer lifted his lordly antlers and trembled; the
bear, his jaws dripping with purloined honey, flattened his ears
restlessly; the dozing panther opened his eyes, yellow and round as a
king's louis; and from the dead arms of what was once a kingly pine,
the eagle rose and described circles as he soared heavenward. The gaze
of the recent captives roved. Here were fruitful valley and hill;
pine, oak, beech, maple and birch; luscious grape and rosy apple; corn
and golden pumpkin. They saw where the beaver burrowed in his dams,
and in the golden shallows and emerald deeps of the lake caught
glimpses of trout, bass, salmon and pickerel. And what a picture met
their eyes as they entered the palisades: the black-robed priests, the
shabby uniforms of the soldiers and their quaint weapons and dented
helmets, the ragged garbs of the French gentlemen who had accompanied
the expedition, the painted Indian and his ever-inconsolable dog.