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McLaOl) N ^ BOSTON PUBLISHED BY TH« AUTHOK I9OI Eauml Acconling to Act of Congress in the Yesr 1901, by A. J. McLEOD In the OfBce of the Libtarian of Congress, at Washington PREFACE. This story is a digest of legendary lore as re- lated by descendants of the French Acadians and Micmac Indians. As to times, places and historic events, it is substantially accurate. The "Notary" is a real character, Francis Parkman, the historian, speaks of him as "the Notary Le Blanc," and other writers make men- tion of him as a man of importance with the Acadians at the time of their eviction. Longfel- low erroneously represents him to be an old man. But no word have we from either of these rel- ative to his subsequent eventful life, as told in traditions of his people and herein fancifully nar- rated. THE AUTHOR. THE NOTARY OF GRAND PR^. CHAPTER I. Blomidon, mysterious abode of Glooscap, the mythic Micmac god, well rewards its visitor, be he scientist, pleasure-seeker, souvenir fiend, or mere idler awaiting glad surprises. This grandest among sea-cliSs, rising abruptly out of the water four hundred feet, exposes to view three distinct strata of denuded, search- inviting rock. Seen at low water, clean, tide-washed new red sandstone forms the base. Resting on this is a thick stratum of amygdaloid trap, veined with tinted gypsum and dotted with silicates of great variety and beauty, among which may be found chalcedony, jasper, opal, agate and other precious stones. Supported upon this gem-bespangled foundation, rises erect nearly two hundred feet of dark green crystalline, columnar, basaltic trap, all crowned with shrubbery and evergfreen woods of ancient growth, the whole cliff resembling ruins of some colossal art structure adorned by time and decorated by decay. This majestic bluff is wholly, except the sand- stone base, of volcanic origin, being the eastern extremity of a long ridge of trappean rock formed by an ancient current of molten stone or lava, erupted through the earth's crust and flow- ing over and cooling upon the red sandstone sea- bottom, on which the whole ridge now rests. This great dyke of hardened lava, now locally called "North Mountain," extends westward from Blomidon 123 miles, and was at some time, in unrecorded ages, upheaved with its bed of sub- marine origin and became the south sea-wall of that tumultuous estuary of the ocean named "Bay of Fundy." Then commenced to flow the im- petuous ocean current that in time became the now strange turbulent tides of this historic bay ; unequalled for height and rapidity of onrush in any other known part of the earth, and never sat- isfactorily accounted for. Subsequent to this, and before man began to note results of world-forming forces at work upon our earth, this surging tide, aided, most likely, by glacial drift, found a way through the extreme eastern end of the lava ridge, or be- tween it and the vastly older adjoining rock, and flowing inland upon a depressed area, settled finally into the large salt lake known as the Basin of Mines. And ever since, this swirling tide, like a mighty river, has flowed in and out the rock- lined strait, wearing ever wider and deeper its channel and fretting into fantastic form the re- sisting shores of the beautiful blue Basin. On the rich alluvial land sloping south and west from the shores of this Basin, the French Acadians built the neat rural homes that formed the unique village of Grand Pre, and on the salt marshes piled up the vast dykes that dammed back the mighty tides from many thousand acres of the most fertile of known soils Here, for more than a century, lived and toiled, and loved and died, a contented, prosper- ous people. To the eastward of Grand Pre, the surface of the country is broken into irregularly-shaped hills that end at the shore of the Basin, thus form- ing a rocky coast-line indented with numerous small coves where the tide once came far inland among the choppy hills. About four miles to the east of the village there was then a deep cove with cliflfy shores and gravelly beach. At the head of this cove, late in the afternoon of Sept. 5th, 1755, a man walked back and forth near the water's edge as if impatiently waitin some expected event. The sun was nearly down. The tide approach- ing its flood and fretting into foam on the rugged coast. The only living thing in sight was the man. He was tall, compactly built, and clad in a complete suit of tanned buckskin, that fitted closely and showed a sinewy symmetrical frame. A sharp-featured fine fac», furrowed across the brow, gave him an old look ; but his step was elastic, his form erect and there was youthful fire in his dark eager eyes. It would have been difficult to guess his age. He might have been forty and, as likely, less than thirty years old. Around his waist was a stout belt, and sus- pended from it, at the right side, dangled a long sword. Back and forth across the beach he walked. The sun settled slowly below the horizon's verge, and as slowly above it crept the full harvest moon. The incoming tide surged up to its high- est limit, then sobbed back against the gray rocks and rested. The yellow light of lingering day and silvery shafts from the moon flecked the blue surface of the broad basin, and elemental sounds were hushed to "soft quiet." As the daylight faded, the light of the moon cast upon the gray sand a long shadow from a tall, c iggy cliflf on the east side of the cove. Strongly outlined and tapering to a point the shadow touched the water's edge. This seemed to be the expected event, for stepping into the ghost-hke obscurity, a moment the man scanned with searching gaze the shore and the shimmer- ing water to the utmost limit of vision. Then, as if satisfied that no human ey saw him, he stooped at the point where the shadow and water met and lifted from its place a large, irregular shaped rock that no ordinary man could have moved, and scooped with his hands a hole in the sand at the bottom of its bed. Then stepping to a thicket near by, returned with a strong looking steel box about ten inches long by five wide and deep, placed it in the hole and replaced the heavy rock. Standing upon it for several minutes, he searched again with suspicious scrutiny the whole range of land and water, then with rapid step entered the dark woods and disappeared. If any of the people of the country, French, English or Indians, had seen this man they would readily have recognized him as the Notary of Grand Pre, a Public Official of authority in the place. Soon after the close of the last war between France and England he had come to the ronntry of the Acadians, already a commissioned Notary, and taken up his abode in the village. None questioned him why or whence he came. Those were troublous times in La Belle France. Events were transpiring that resulted not many years later in the bloodiest of civil wars. There weie fugitives, many fiom justice, and injustice as well, and the Acadian colony of the new world aflforded a safe and inviting asylum. That the tall, handsome Notary was one of the former class, the Acadians more than suspected ; but he was a good citzen and held high rank in the place, which was enough for this simple people. Among them the Notary acted as Judge in all Civil affairs, and had other Powers. That T,as a tranquil sunset and silvery Autumn moon-rise, over the forest-fringed Basin of Mines; but in the quaint village of Grand Pre, a few miles distant, there was the black smoke and roar of devouring flames, mingled with the sobs of women and children, and muttered curses from stout hearted men with tear-stained cheeks, forced to behold the burning of their homes and helpless to defend their families fleeing there- from. That day in the village of Grand Pre alone hree hundred houses, four hundred other build- ings and one church were burned to the ground and two thousand inhabitants made homeless prisoners. Whatever for reasons of State policy, may be said m justification cf this harsh treatment, and much has been so saii' and well said, there still remains the "steel cold tact" that it was bitterly cruel, thus to drive this almost blameless people from the homes, they had by tireless industry won from dense forests or reclaimed from in- vadmg iides, and export them to strange lands where they were unwelcome ; where their lan- guage was not understood, and their religion a heresy. This much, however, in fairness to England should be said, namely, that it was not planned by the British Government nor executed by Brit- ish army regulars. It was conceived and planned by Governor Shirley of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, assisted by Lieutenant-Governor Law- rence of Nova Scotia; and carried into eflfect by volunteers from the New England colonies com- manded by John Winslow, commissioned by Governor Shirley for the purpose. Colonel Winslow and most of his volunteers were direct descendants of the pious Pilgrim s^rleH /.''SVr t r*"'^ ^""^ puritanically ob- served the Sabbath Day to keep it holy and been constant in prayer": but had nevertheless been at no time averse to the Uking of human life on any pretext of just cause be it heresy, witchcraft or war ; and were now more than willing to kill these Acadians and devastate their homes, al- though no state of war existed at tlie time be- tween France and England, and for no more righteous a cause than that they were of a differ- ent nationality, were loyal to their King and true to their Church. "Toil, trade and puritanism" had made them sharp featured, calculating and old-blooded, and it was easy for them to I lieve that they were doing God's service in any transaction that prom- ised to themselves gain or glory. It is worthy of especial note and seems like retribution that only thirty years after this cruel eviction, some of these same volunteers and many of their sons, in pitiable poverty and outcasts from their country, sought and found a scanty living on these very farms from which they had so ruthlessly banished the inheritors. At the close of the revolutionary war between the American colonies and England all those who had remained loyal to their King had their property confiscated, and themselves forced to leave the country not to return on penalty of death. About ten thousand of them settled m Novia Scotia, many of whom asked and received u charity, the right to possess themselves of the then impoverishoil farms of the evicted Acadians. WhenonthatuismalFriday the fifth of Septem- ber, I7SS, the male inhabitants of Grand Pre at three o'clock in the afternoon assembled in the Church to hear what Col. Winslow facetiously term;d the "King's instructions," Rene Lc Blanc the Notary was not among them. Instead of obeying the Royal summons he led to the door of his house, where he had always lived alone, a large black stallion as unlike the horses of the country as the Notary was unlike the peasants of Acadia. He had been tamed from the wild horses of the famous Ukraine breed and broke only to the saddle, strong, speedy and sure-footed over the roughest roads. He came to the country with the Notary and had been his daily companion in long and often swift rides over the narrow winding roads of the settle- ments. All th; country from Port Royal (now Annapolis) to Piziquid (now Windsor) knew both horse and rider. To these rural people they were a wonderful pair, and in many respects were truly so. The saddle that now fitted his compact form and glossy skin was as foreign in make as was the steed in character. It was ft!-- nish.^d with saddlebags and holsters of militai pattern and stocked with heavy army pistols. MH The sentient beast seemed to sniff the perils of the ride for which he was equipped, and stamped impatiently • pon the ground till his master coolly vaulted int. he saddle and Ruided him swiftly along a seldom travelled, circutious route tr the little cove where we saw him hide the box in the sand. Soon after dark of this historic day, in the red glare and noise of crackling flames, and dun smoke of hundreds of burning buildings, rushed the blick horse and his rider. Straight along the main road of the village with sword drawn and heels to his horse's flanks sped the undaunted Notary to where his own house still stood un- touched by the incendiary's torch. Mounted officers on guard about the Church seemed unwilling to arrest so swift a horse and daring rider. A few muskets were discharged at him by the soldiers, but the bullets went wide of the mark, and it is more than likely that the men who fired the shots, under command, in- tended they should, for dash and daring finds always admirance in the soul of the soldier. Reaching unharmed his house, he dismounted and went in for something forgotten in the earlier part of the day. In a few minutes he was ag^in in the saddle and urging his mettlesome steed now flecked with foam along the rough and dan- ill! i gerous road to Port Royal, then an English gar- rison. All through the dark night he rode and at daylight arrived at a small settlement of French on the intervale lands at the junction of the Nictaux River with the Annapolis. Here he rested for a couple of hours and fed his horse. To the people he told the story of the imprison- ment of the inhabitants of Grand Pre and burn- ing of the dwellings, and advised them to go to the ^"Aiin settlement a few miles up the Nictaux River and remain in concealment until the sol- diers, who would march to Port Royal, had passed their settlement, and thus escape the fate of their countrymen to the eastward. At sundown that night he reached Port Royal, then held by the English, but the country round- about was inhabited chiefly by French, who were ignorant of the fact, that British soldiers were marching from Mines to make them prisoners and outcasts in the world. Of this he quietly gave them warning and counselled as to modes of escape. But this was not his sole errand to the Eng- lish garrisoned town. Leaving his good horse to be cared for by a friendly Englishman who lived about a mile outside the garrison, he walked directly to a small house near the fort. An oM, poor woman lived here alone, her chief occu- pation being the care of a little girl about two years old, that had been placed in her keeping by the Notary when only an infant. Beyond the fact that its name was Lete she knew nothing, although she had often resorted to feminine finesse to learn more; but if she did not more than suspect that the handsome Notary was its father, with a pretty girl mother somewhere, who could not show a marriage certificate, then she was a marvel among her sex. She was quick also in noting that the child was certainly not of plebian parentage, and now be- ing informed that the Notary would take it away in the morning, she pleadingly asked to be told something of its birth and destiny ; but the polite Frenchi.ian pleasantly declined to gratify her gossipy anxiety. After bidding the woman have in readiness the child's best clothing and to wake him at day- dawn, or earlier if there should be unusual sounds, the Notary threw himself upon a low couch and was soon asleep. There was then no fear of telegraph messages having outsped him, and he knew that he was a full day's journey ahead of the soldiers, so he slept soundly till aroused by the day-break summons from the woman ; then bidding her to dress the child in its best clothes, he ate a hasty breakfast and tak- ing the little one in his arms, walked rapidly in the direction of the house where he had left his horse. This house was in a small clearing in the woods that skirted the town, and hidden from view till within a few yards. As he emerged from the dim light of the forest and came in sight of the house, he saw three horses in the door-yard, and in the road directly ahead of him three stout men in uniform of British officers. The situation dawned upon him instantly. These men had ridden through the night to cap- ture him ; and his black horse grazing in the early morning had innocently thus betrayed his master. The men were armed only with swords, but they were three to one and he must, at best fight against odds. But there was no avenue of escape, and nerving himself for desperate con- flict, he continued his walk till within a few feet of the men, then halted, holding the child in his arms. The largest of the three, in the uniform of a colonel, stepped a pace or two nearer him, and drawing his sword, said in commanding tones: "Monsieur Le Notary of Grand Pre your sword." The Frenchman quietly laid the child by the road side, and stepping backward against a clump Ig of bushes, drew his blade, and placing himseH on guard, said : "Come and take it." As he unsheathed his weapon the officer no- ticed that it was a straight French rapier several inches longer than his own heavy sword, and that it was to be wielded by the left hand. These two facts somewhat perti'-.bed his insolent cool- ness of a minute before, as it placed him at dis- advantage in single encounter; and for the mo- ment, he thought of calling on his men for as- sistance; but he was stout, brave and skilled in the use of the sword, and waiving aside the cowardly thought, stepped forward and without word accepted the Notary's haughty challenge. Then there was in the dim mist-laden light a flash of polished steel and the two brave men stood foot to foot in deadly encounter while the clang of clashing blades rang out upon the still morning air. The officer with heavier sword and superior strength forced the fight, while the Frenchman stood coolly on the defensive, and skilfully par- ried each deadly cut and thrust, till he had fully measured the skill and force of his powerful ad- versary ; then quick as a glance he took the offen- sive, and fell upon his antagonist with such fierce unusual attack, that in less than a minute the hi li I 19 big officer lay at his feet with a thrust through his breast. With his dripping blade held at guard the Notary looked on while the men examined his fallen foe for hope of life, but there was none. The thrust was . death deal and life had de- parted with it. "Am I to be allowed to pass or must more blood be shed ?" calmly said the No- tary. "We want no more of you," replied one of the soldiers. Then saddling his horse and placing the frightened child on the saddle-bow, he mounted ; and holding her with one arm in front of him, galloped out of sight along the road he had travelled the day before. He knew the soldiers were marching down this road to Port Royal, but trusting to his judg- ment as to where they were, he rode fast in the direction they were coming, for a distance of about ten miles, then turned oflf to tl louth in- to a narrow horseback road, cut through the thick woods. It was this road he had hoped to gain, and did not reach it a minute too soon, for the hum of marching men could be distinctly heard as he disappeared in the dense forest, where only wild beasts and their trappers and hunters were to be found. Once out of sight of the main road he slowed his horse down to a walk, let the bridle reins iit!i loose upon his neck and taking the bewildered child in his arms, for hours jogged leisurely along among the great trees that spread their branches across his narrow path. Near sundown he reached a small clearing on the mountain ridge, where a trapper lived alone in a log cabin. The Notary had spent much time in the woods' and knew this trapper and his place well. The man was not in his cabin nor about the clearing. But this did not disturb the uninvited visitor, who turned his horse loose in the field, and entering the hut made him- self and the little girl as comfortable as possible. Some coarse bread and salt meat in the locker furnished a good supper for their hungry stom- achs, and a heap of clean fir boughs made a com- fortable bed. The Notary expected the trapper's return be- fore dark, but the night wore on and he did not come. All the next day he waited, but there was no sign of the woodsman. Another night passed and he did not come. Then he wrote on a piece ot birch bark wl.o had been the trapper's visitor, asked him to take good care of his Iiorse till his retum in a few days, and taking *he child in his arms, set out on foot through the forest, a distance of about twenty miles to an Indian en- campment at Nictaux, where he had two days be- fore advised his countrymen to flee for a hiding place. There was no road through this forest, merely a trail known to the Indians, that could be followed only by daylight. It was a tiresome journey, carrying the child through the thick woods, but he made the distance in the day, rea<'hing the camps a little after dark, where he found his countrymen, as he expected. A young Sagamore* of this band of Indians was the Notary's friend, and to his wigwam he went, not caring to encounter the prying curi- osity of his own people. For reasons he had told no one, he did not care to be questioned about the little child, and he knew the Sagamore would not care to know more than he should choose to tell him. In race and culture, these men were as unlike as barbarity and civilization, but in many respects they were nevertheless alike; each was in the first prime of manhood, each was strong, hand- some and athletic, each was a man of authority among his people and held in high esteem. The Sagamore could speak the Notary's lan- guage quite well, the Notary had learned enough of the Micmac tongue to make himself under- stood, and though their homes were thirty miles * Ont next in sv-thority to the Chief. I m apart, these men had in the last few years spent much time together, roaming the forest for game and for love of its somber solitudes. The Sagamore had withstood the threats and persuasions of Priests and Jesuits, and was firm in the faith of his ancestors in the bountiful good- ness of the Great Spirit, they had for ages trusted and accepted as the good father of the red men ; and he preferred his belief in the certainty of a happy hunting ground in the land of the here- after, to the uncertain heaven of the white man's religion, to be gained, as he thought, only by ceaseless prayers and meaningless ceremonies. The Notary was a confident believer in the supreme power of man to manage his own affairs, and a scoffer of all religions ; still these men were firm friends after Nature's kindly laws, and moulded by its benign influences were among the noblest of men. In the wigwam of this friend thr Notary and child remained for the night, and in the morn- ing learned from his people that tl c soldiers were marching up the Nictaux river to capture them. They were unarmed and unused to warfare and had no alternative but to surrender. The In- dians, however, were differently disposed. There were in the encampment about one hundred war- riors well armed and always ready to fight the »3 English soldiers on any show of cause. The Sagamore was by his office their commander in chief, and after consultation with the Notary, decided that he was bound in duty to protect the people who had fled to his encampment for safety ; and accordingly prepared to g^ve the sol- diers battle when they should reach his village. The Notary was burning to avenge the wrongs done his countrymen and joined the Sagamore in preparing for the fight. It was about noon when the soldiers marched to the open plains near the Nictaux Falls, and sent armed officers to demand unconditional sur- render of the French fugitives gathered within the grounds of the encampment ; but before the demand could be made the wild war-whoops of the savages rang in the ears of the confident sol- diers and filled their hearts with alarm. Hardly had they time to set themselves in battle array when the savage onslaught came, and arrows and tomahawks did deadly work before the sol- diers could form in solid column and use the bayonet upon their fierce enemy. The Micmacs had a superstitious dread of this "sword-on-a- gun" as they termed it, on account of the wound being almost always fatal. The Sagamore and Notary led the wild warriors, and with sword and tomahawk dealt many a death blow. But I u discipline proved more than a match for such wild warfare, and the battle was soon ended with the Notary and Sagamore wounded and pris- oners. »5 CHAPTER II. The Indians having no quarrel of their own to maintain, fled to the woods as soon as they found themselves over-matched, and left the French fugitives to the mercy of the soldiers, who made prisoners of them all, except a few boys who took refuge in the bush beyond the hills. The next morning preparations for the march to Port Royal were made. The French habitants were allowed to march under guard without being in any way fettered. But the athletic Notary and equally powerfully built Sag- amore were prisoners of a diflferent character. The soldiers looked upon them as being the sole cause of the death of so many of their comrades and not being supplied with proper manacles bound them with twisted withes round and roun.^ their bodies, confining the arms close to their sides. Then these wooden thongs were linked together with other withes twisted into a chain so as to yoke the two men like oxen. Thus strongly fettered, they were forced to march ahead of the soldiers, each suffering from pain- ful but not dangerous wounds. j6 Death certainly awai'cd them both at the garri- son, and it did not matter much to the soldiers if it overtook them before they reached it. Feel- ing thus it was no wonder that they were denied a place at the camp-fire on the cold Autumn nights of the march. The night before the garri- son would be gained was very cold. A raw east wind seemed to herald a storm of snow or cold rain. The two yoked prisoners had got together with their feet some dry leaves, and lay upon them on the lee side of the trunk of a great pine, blown down ages before and a little apart from the tents. The guard in pity threw over them a blanket, one side of which rested on the tree and formed a sort of shed. This pleased the Saga- more, as he had silently planned to escape that night. The storm came on with the darkness, and the guard feeling that the prisoners were safely stowed away for the night, took shelter from the rain in a tent near by. The Indian noted this, and bending his head forward under the blanket, commenced to gnaw the withes that bound his fellow prisoner's arms to his side. He could not get his teeth to bear upon his own bonds. Patiently he applied his sound ivory to the tough thongs and in a short time gnawed them asunder. Thus freed it was but tlie work of a few min- ut«s for the Notary to untie the withes that bound his wily comrade, who then said in a low voice : Now we both free, we creep away, run through woods, get clear." "No," said the Notary, "I cannot go. I do not know how to creep softly in the woods. I shouM make a noise and then we would both be shot, and my leg is sore and stiflT from the wound No, you go— creep sly and soft as Indians can, till out of sound of the tents, then run in the dark woods and be safe away. I will stay under the blanket and move it if the guard comes this way. It may be that they will not shoot me to- morrow when they get me to the garrison. They may keep me in prison in the Fort or put m- on board a war ship now in the Port. I will bear what I cannot prevent and wait a better chance. If I get free I will come to you first of all If I do not come, then take good care of the child I left at your camp. Wait and watch for me till ten times twelve moons have come and gone, and then if I do not come, get some one to teach the child to read and write French and English." "And here, put this in your pouch. It is some gold to pay her teacher. Then from that time count nme times twelve moons more, and if I do not then come— you know 'Glooscap Cove?'" "Yes," answered the Sagamore, "me know. E«tt Grand Pre, where Miemac God Glooteap jump from Blotnidon acroii Basin, and make big track inland and pile rocks high on lunrite tide. Many times I been there. Some time Gloofcap he come again, land in this cove and make plenty game for his people." "Well," continued the Notary, "you go there in September, nineteen years from now. Go the fifth day just before sunset. The moon will be full that day. It will rise an hour before sun- down. The sky will be clear, the Basin calm, and the tide at the flood. You watch, and when the sunlight fades from the water, the moon will appear from behind the hills, and the tall, black rock on the east side of the cove will make a shadow on the sand. The point of that shadow will just touch the edge of the water. Go to where the shadow and water meet, and lift out of its place a large, ragged rock at that point, dig down in the sand in its bed with your hands, and you will find a steel box, not very large. Take it to the girl, open it and let her read the writing you will find on the top within. It will tell you and tell her all that I must not now tell any one." "Ugh I" said the bewildered Sagamore, "too much like dream. Ten times twelve moons, nine times twelve moons — nineteen years. Yes, I wait so long for big white chief come back. He no come; then I go Gloccap Cove.' But me no believe me find um dream jtory all tree. No- body he know what be .o long time to come " It IS not a dream," said the NoUrv. "It will all be as I say. White man he watch the sky very ong; thmk very hard and find that every night the moon rises and sets, and all the time comes Z; r/i ""' °" •"' "** »*»'"' i"""« Mme as .t did nineteen years before. And all the time it just repeats its movements «,d changes in a great cycle in the sky; every nine- s'" ^'*" T "''' •'*'^ "'"^^ nineteen^yelrl. Moon and tide and wind just the same" fJ^V^^n '" ^" '*' P*"'-"P '°'« had during the talk of the prisoners overtaken the place and roared in the branches of the great trees a»h swept in fitful gusts of cold sleeted rl aSng tha covered these two invincible men cuddled against the old tree-trunk cuaaiea At length the Indian, feeling his way. as it were, m the wild tumult of the elements and the bewilderment of his senses, said : "Stori,: very big— night very dark-all sam.- you talk to me. I no understand why ^^Tnd bZ so hard-why rain come down so fast-so cold. A^l same I no understand how white chief he Icnow so much not yet come. All dark «,me m MSP" 30 night — all strange as storm. But me no forget ; me do all my white friend he ask me. Now I go. You stay till bad bayonet cut get well, then Great Spirit he help you get free, same he help me get free." "You helped yourself," said his companion. "Yl ^awed the withes asunder and freed your- self." "No," said the Indian. "Great Spirit he give me strong, sharp teeth. I gnaw like beaver, and twisted wood it no good any more to make me fast. Not myself, but Great Spirit, he make me free. I no could make myself teeth like chisel. I no could make the night dark and stormy. Good Spirit he make the way and Indian follow scent — no more." "Very good for you," said the Notary. "You trust your God for help, I help myself. By much trying I made me very strong and supple. I can run fast and far. I lift great weights. I fight with sword best of any man in the world. I shoot far and straight. I ride horseback safe and strong ; and when danger comes I make big fight and get free myself." "Yes," answered the solemn savage, "my white brother, he much smart I know. He strong like moose, he nimble like snake, he cunning like fox, he brave like bear. But some time maybe he get 3' in place where all these no go id ;,) save :rom death. Then he feel weak and civ in Good F^pirit. He save him then." "More like I shall save myself," said the con- fident Frenchman. "Some day we vill meet again, I hope. Remember the nineteen times twelve moons and the shadow on the shore, and the box under the stone, and be very good to the little girl ; she has no mother. Now, good-bye." "Indian never forget," said the savage. "Good-bye; remember Good Spirit he help you when ask him," and creeping along the side of the great log the dusky forest rover was soon be- yond fear of capture and on the way to his peo- ple at Nictaux. The storm increased in fury and the soldiers did not break camp during the next day, and it was late in the afternoon before any notice was taken of the fettered prisoners. Then a soldier, with some food, lifted the soaked blanket from the log and found, soundly sleeping, the Notary, unbound and alone. He was quickly marched into camp and questioned as to how and when his yoke-fellow had escaped. Beyond the fact that the Indian cut the thongs with his teeth and crept away he would give no answer; and in re- ply to the question why he did not himself escape, he simply said, "I was not then ready." IMl 3» The next day's march brought them to the garrison at Port Royal. The French fuptives were put at once on board a vessel and taken to some place on the Continent, and the Notary held in the barracks a prisoner of war. On account of his wounds he was not put in a prisoner's cell. The fortress walls and picket-guard were consid- ered sufficient to prevent his escape. He claimed to be only an ordinary habitant of Grand Pre, but the Commander of the British forces, however, believed him to be a man of importance, and as such had strict watch kept over him. He was allowed the garrison limits during the day, but at night was confined in the stone prison in a yard surrounded by a wall fifteen feet high, built of rough-split granite. In this prison yard he often walked, as the door of his room opened into it and was unfastened. One of the comers of this wall was sharper than an ordinary square cor- ner, making an angle of considerably less than 90 degrees. This comer attracted the attention of the prisoner the first time he walked in the yard, and he thought of it as a possible means of escape. As the days wore on and his wound healed, the idea took definite hold upon his thoughts, and he began to lay plans for getting out of the garrison and away from the town. In his youth 33 he was a trained gymnast and still possessed all the strength and much of the suppleness of those days. Among the ancient Greek athletes there was a feat seldom performed in modern times It was that of scaling a wall by climbing a cor- ner. Tins was done by pressing the hands and knees against the sides of the walls that formed the angle, and by supple muscular power ascend- mg the perpendicular corner. It required great strength of muscle and lightness of body to do this seemmgly impossible feat. But in the eigh- teenth century there were in France several youths who could do it, and the Notary was among them, but now he was considerably heav- ier and not proportionally stronger; still he had fully made up his mind that he could again do It, especially as this comer was an acute angle and the stone rough from the quarry. It seemed to offer a means of escape unsuspected by those whose duty it was to watch him. Having fully determined on making the atempt as soon as circumstances favored, he set about to fit him- self for the experiment. He took daily active gymnastic exercise, much to the amusement of the soldiers, who thought him going crazy He ate al the lean beef given in his rations and sent outside and bought it, bribing the soldiers to get >t for him, they thinking it simply an insane no- tion. For weeks he kept this up without excit- ing suspicion. The lay of the land outside the walls of his prison yard and the garrison grounds he knew well from former visits to the town ; and from an old woman who peddled apples in the fort he learned where the sentinels were posted and their beats. At last he was ready to make a bold break for liberty. But there was a point first to be gained. Kis sword had been taken from him and kept in the armory. Liberty without his trusty rapier would be short lived. He had seen it every day hanging upon the wall, and pondered much for means of securing it, but had not compassed a plan, bribery of the guard seemed at last the only possible chance of getting the coveted weapon. At the time he was taken prisoner at Nictaux, he was, and ever since had been, clothed in the suit of close-fitting buckikin that we saw on him the day he buried the box in the sand. This dress did not indicate to the soldiers anything more than homely comfort, and for that reason he was not searched, but the fact was, he had stowed away in the recesses of this outfit a large sum of money in the gold coin of France, and now he decided to try its power on the red-coated 35 s< ntry, and but waited a favorable night in which to test his loyalty. It came on the first day of November. The day had been unusually fine, but the night brought a storm and darkness, and wind and ram. This elemental war was what he wished for. It was his best ally to escape. The sentry- box of the guard was at the doorway into the prison yard, and from it could be seen the Vo- tary's sword on the wall of the armor/. About midnight he went to this door, with a number of gold coms in his hand, which he held out toward the sentinel, and pointing with the other hand to the long blade, said, "I'll give you all this for that rapier on the wall, and then you will never see me more." The soldier looked at the glittering coin, at the sword in its scabbard, at the anxious, confi- dent face of his tempter, scanned keenly the sur- roundings, then snatched from its hook the strange weapon, and put it into the hand of its owner, at the same time grasping the price of his perfidy. Not a word further was spoken by either man and in less than a minute the prisoner was in the darkest part of the dark yard, and making his way to the experimental corner in the high wall Reachmg this place he buckled the sword on so mmm 36 that it hung at his back, rubbed his hands in the wet sand at his feet, then on the outside of his buckskin trouser legs, drew in a long breath, and holding it pressed himself into the sharp angle of the high wall and scaled it like a cat. Once on the top, the descent was easy, as it sloped off to the grounds of the garrison, and in a few minutes he was walking the drive-way towards the outer gate. The darkness and storm favored him. The soldier on guard had taken shelter from the storm in the sentry-box at one side of the open gateway, and did not see him till he attempted to pass through; then giving the challenge quickly, presented his bayonet al- most to the breast of the unreplying stranger and laid his finger upon the trigger of his musket. But the man who had come so suddenly upon him from an unexpected quarter was alert, and, with a quick thrust of the long blade in his strong arm, laid the startlei sentinel upon the ground, and stepping" over his prostrate form passed through the gjateway and was free once more; and made straight (as in the darkness he could) to the woods south of the garrison, not daring to trust himself to travel the road or to take shelter in a house. The great gun that notified the country of the escape of a prisoner or of a deserter had been 37 fired before he was half a mile away, and that left no safety for him, except in the fastness of the dense woods. Into this he plunged, hastening onward with no object but to place distance be- tween him and the hated prison he had left. It did not take long to do this, and then, finding shelter under a shelving rock, he rested until daylight. With sunrise the skies cleared and he was able to shape his course for the trapper's hut to the eastward, where he had left his horse nearly two months before. All day long he kept his course through the trackless forest, and near sundown came across a pathway up the mountain side. He soon convinced himself that this was a trail to the clearing he wished to reach, and fol- lowed it southward. It bore no evidence of re- cent travel and this surprised him. At the end of the path was the cabin, but no signs of the trapper. On the farther side of the clearing was the horse feeding quietly. In the yard was un- trodden grass, in the doorway were wind-piled Autumn leaves, and inside all was as when he had left the morning he started with the child in his arms for Nictaux. It was certain the trap- per had not come back. Either the soldiers had surprised and carried him oflf, or some accident had befallen him in the woods. The intelligent horse had sniffed his master in the air and came ])rancing to him, showing all the gladness possi- ble to express without speech. Autumn winds had made breaches in the fence, but the faithful beast had staid where his master left him. Hunger had been for hours chafing the empty stomach of the Notary, and he began to look around for some means of satisfying it. There was a small piece of salt pork in the cabin and outside plenty of potatoes ripe for digging. With the pistols which had been left with the saddle, he set fire to some dry moss and soon had a mess of boiled potatoes and fried pork. With these he made a hearty meal, and laid down in the trapper's bunk and was soon asleep. The sun shone above the tall trees and gemmed the white frost on the frozen grass of the clear- ing when he awoke refreshed, and collected his distracted senses into a realization of the situa- tion. Here he was in the wild woods twenty miles from human habitation and safe from pur- suit ; but safety alone did not satisfy his restless ambition, and he soon decided to make on horseback the perilous journey to his country- men at Beaubassin, a settlement at the head of the Bay of Fundy, or at Louisburg, in Cape Breton. The first fifty miles of this way must necessarily be through that part of the country 39 just devasuted by the soldiers, and was fraught with the danger of being killed ^r captured for the reward he believed had been offered for his arrest ; but he liked adventure and did not shrink from the undertaking on that account. Darkness and his coal black horse would be valuable allies. The Indians were his friends, and his long ra- pier would be his best defender. This part of the journey safely accomplished would land him at Piziquid, where the British commander was his friend. From there to Beaubassin the way would be difficult but not dangerous. All this thoughtfully considered, he stoically left his bough-bunk determined to take the journey. The day was spent in making ready for the ride to Piziquid. The remainder of the pork was boiled and a few potatoes also. From coarse flour he mixed and hard-baked some bis- cuits, and stowed all in the leather saddle-bags. Then as the sun neared the horizon and settled behind the tall trees he saddled the black horse and leading him by the bridle, left the solitary cabin, and slowly pursued the narrow pathway among the crisp autumn leaves toward the main road, which he reached just as darkness settled over the land ; then mounting, he rode swift and silently eastward. All night he kept the saddle and hastened over the lonely rough way. and at mm 40 day-dawn concealed himself in the thick wood away from the road. The second night's ride must be through the ruined village of Grand Pre, where, he learned from an Indian, there were soldiers on the look- out to capture him, as he was now charged with the murder of the sentinel at the garrison, and the price of fifty pounds was set upon his head. This, however, did not deter him, as he had con- fidence in horse and sword to carry ■'■ m safely through. It was near midnight when he reached its out- skirts and dismounted to allow his horse to gather fresh energies for the three-mile dash through the village and over the bridge across the Gaspereau River. There were several roads, but one only that led directly to the bridge, and that was the main street, on or near which the principal dwellings had been built This way he decided to take, although most likely to be pa- trolled by soldiers quartered among the ruins, on the lookout for the fugitives who had fled to the bush ; but it was smooth and hard and there- by best suited for the speed he intended to make. Having rested for half an hour and seen to it that every equipment of horse and rider was made secure, he mounted, and touching with un- ^ ': 41 armed heel the flank of his spirited courser was off with the speed of a startled stag. The night was dark, save the glint from far away stars set in a cloudless sky, outlining the charred and jumbled ruins of burnt dwellings that looked in the ghostly light like blotches up- on the fair fields. And it was still, except the noise of his horse's feet on the gravelly road and occasional skurrying of startled cattle grazing among the brands of demolished homes. On through this black desolation went the stout horse till the bridge was reached, then sud- denly stood still and snorted as if alarmed. He had seen before his keen-eyed master had that the entrance to the bridge was guarded by a squad of mounted cavalry in full uniform of the regular army with sabres drawn as if expecting his master's arrival. As the noise of his own horse's feet died away, the Notary distinctly heard behind him the sound of many hoofs, and realized that he was in a trap. Horsemen in front, horsemen behind, and no side retreat. Direful as was the prospect and deadly, as al- most certain, seemed the outcome, the brave horseman did not despair; but coolly counted the drawn sabres ahead of him and listened to the clatter of approaching horsemen in his rear; then fixing more firmly his feet in the c'.irrups, he 4* tightened his grip upon the bridle, plucked from its scabbard the long rapier and grating his firm-sot teeth, was ready to make a desperate dash for liberty, or death in fighting for it ; then pressing hard his horse's flanks, leaned forward to breast the expected impetus, but the hitherto obedient beast stood stoically still, and giving a wild savage neigh, reared his great sinewy form almost erect upon his hind legs, and uttered the terrifying bellow of the wild stallions of the desert when enraged; then jerking the bridle from his rider's grasp, he bounded forward in great leaps and stamped the foremost horse to the ground as if it had been a harmless cow, seizing at the same time in his great jaws a horseman slatted him as a dog does a reptile ; then with foam-flecked mouth distended, and ears laid back, he stamped through and over the terror-stricken squad of hirelings as triumphantly as if they were a flock of timid sheep; and with the speed of thought swept over the bridge, along the dark but famil- iar road to Piziquid, and did not slacken his wild career till many miles from the strange encounter and secure in the darkness from pursuit. It had required all the Notary's skill of horse- manship to enable him to keep the saddle, and he was glad when his mad courser at last, of his own bidding, stopped. If ever mortal man was 43 grateful to beast, the Notary was to the noble animal that had so unaccountably saved his life. He patted his foaming neck, with kind words coaxed him back from his fierce frenzy, and tried to find the cause of such strange behavior And he thought he did by recalling the fact, that the animal had been captured at the head of his wild troop in the Ukraine country, by a company of Cossack cavalry, in uniform very like the squad that had so enraged him. Whether or not, this was the true cause of the almost miraculous'con- duct of the beast may be matter of conjecture for the reader. It satisfied the Notary, as he had in mmd a memorable cavalry charge of modem times where horses without riders charged furi- ously upon the e-r-1,. and fought madly with teeth and hec, j so the horse in Holy Writ so grapn^cai., ,.a...ayed as "he goeth forth to meet the armed men" . . . "tumeth not back from the sword" . . . "Swalloweth the ground with fierceness and rage" "Saith among th, trumpets ha! ha! And smelleth the battle afar oflF." CHAPTER III. The Sagamore found no difficulty in making his way through the forest to his people at Nic- taux, where he found the little child safe and well. To his mind now the mysterious talk of the Notary in the storm, made the child an ob- ject of strange concern. The box in the sand, the shadow and the moon-cycle, were all linked with the life of the little waif, so solemnly en- trusted to his care; and he determined to obey with savage certainty every request of his friend. Pursuing this resolve, he made from the mys- tic red cedar a slender strip about four feet in length and tasked himself to cut in it one notch for every full moon thereafter, leaving a space between every twelve. This slip of wood was carefully guarded in his ovim camp, and no one but himself allowed to touch, or to have any knowledge why he kept it. After eight years he broke up the encampment and moved with his people to the old hunting ground of his tribe, near where had been the vil- lage of Grand Pre. Only the great meadows won f 45 from the sea and the roaring, foaming tide of the wide blue Basin were the same as when he last dwelt there. Immigrants from New England and old Eng- land, attracted hither by the King's offer of a free grant, had possessed themselves of some of the farms, had put new buildings on the old sites and introduced new manners and customs. With these people the Sagamore hesitated to make friends. To his rough sense of justice they had no right to the rich, cultivated farms they were enjoying without price, while the men who made them were castaways in the world. Here and there in the neighborhood of his camp vyras a French family that had escaped to the woods at the capture, had returned and taken the oath of allegiance to the English King and now occupied their own lands. These families the Sagamore knew, and it was chiefly to give them charge of the child's education that he came here. With their children the little girl spent much of her time during the day, but at night always she slept in the wigwam of the Sagamore. She was healthy and pretty and attracted general at- tention in the settlement. "Lete" was what the Indians called her, and no one thought of asking her other name. The child herself did not know 46 it, nor did the wise Sagamore. That much only had he learned from the Notary, and made no further question. Time wore along, and at the age of twelve years the wild beauty of the white Indian girl was remarkable, while the readiness with which she mastered both French and English aston- ished her teachers and pleased the Sagamore, who could himself speak each of these languages fairly well. About this time there came to the little road- side inn of the village near nightfall, a stranger, and engaged lodgings for the night. This was no unusual event. Strangers came and went daily — some came to stay, others to view the land, and yet others for no avowed purpose. The whole settlement was a strange neighborhood of people strangers to each other and of aifferent habits. But this comer was a man to attract attention and arouse suspicion. He was fully six feet and a half tall, square shouldered, deep-chested, straight and athletic-looking. His large, well- shaped head, covered with light curly hair, was carried proudly as a mountain stag's. His fea- tures were regular, and the whole face massive, handsome and stem. He was one of those men upon whom the eye lingers with that look of 47 mingled wonder and admiration people call a stare. His speech betrayed his nativity. He was a Scotchman, sure ; and his bearing raised a well- grounded suspicion that he was a deserter from the British Army. At the inn he asked few questions and answered few, for no one of the many callers at the little hostlery ventured to seek his acquaintance. The next day after his arrival the stranger walked alone about the neighborhood, spending many hours on the shore of the Basin, watching the rush of the tide as it came and went over the great mud flats and dashed against the rough shores. On his return to the inn he asked what made this terrible on-rush of water and high flow of tide. "The Bay of Fundy" was all the answer he received, and that, to the minds of the settlers was a sufficient explanation for any freak of Na- ture or outburst of elemental singularity. There were still some good farms in the vicin- ity of the old village to be had from the Govern- ment for the asking, but the strang<;r either did not care for a farm, or did not want what must be asked for at Halifax. So after a few days' wan- dering about the settlements, he "pre-empted" a little clearing of nearly three acres, half a mile distant from the village. This field was a slope of alluvial loam washed from a cluster of rocky Siilii hills nearly surrounding it, and had been cleared and cultivated by some Acadian farmer for rais- ing root crops. In one of these rocky hillsides there was a cave-like opening. This spot the stranger chose for his dwelling, and purchasing rough materials and some tnnls he constructed with his own hands a cabin, three sides of which were cliflF. To this grotto-like dwelling he took some rude furniture, a full hunter' outfit and there lived alone. Most of his time was spent in the cultivation of the little field, where he raised vegetables and small fruits of excellent quality. Often he was seen in pursuit of game, which he shot only for food, and frequently gave it away to the poor settlers. He was civil to all, but certainly not sociable. None of the settlers knew his name, but they called him "Big Scott," and he good- naturedly answered to it when he had occasion, which was seldom. Since the days of the possession of this land by the prosperous French Acadians, man's pro- ductive energy, and the ever chafing elements have combined to greatly change the coast line and irregular shores of the Basin of Mines from what it then was. At that time, near where is now the classical 49 village of Wolfville, there was a deep gorge into the land, generally called a creek, into which the water from the Basin, long since diked out, came and went with the tide. Near the land end of this channel the shores widened into a small bay of about an acre in area, with what is rare in that locality, a pebbly bottom ; .iars ran on, till a few months ago, a carpenter making some repairs on an outbuilding belonging to the prisoner, had occasion to remove some of the wainscot, and found between it, and the outer wall, the gold candlestick taken from the church. The prisoner's house was then searched, and one of the three gold coins was found in his possession. He was then put under arrest, and is now on trial before you for the robbery I have described. Gentlemen, you will now harken unto the evi- dence as I shall present it." The silence in the Court Room was oppres- sive, as an officer placed on the Prosecutor', table, a pair of genteel looking shoes evidently !;f. 1 made for a man who could afford to pay a good price, also a gold candlestick and a small gold '"''The Prosecutor broke the silence, by calling an officer to place a stool for the P^soner s feet, and then to take off the shoe from his right foot. This was done, and the neat ^'l^-jto^''^;/^^ foot trembled as the Prosecutor took the right shoe in his hand, and said :— "Gentlemen of the jury, you are about to wit ness one of the most crucial exhibits of self-con- viction ever imposed upon a '-^" f arged w th a crime. We had not the right before to force .his man to try on these shoes. And now if they do not fit perfectly, it will be your pleasant duty to acquit him, for it can be established beyond a reasonable doubt, that these shoes were worn by the man who robbed^ the church, at the time he entered the building." Then he handed the shoe to the officer, who put it on the prisoner's foot. It fitted him well, as all could see. The prisoner turned pale as death, and his foot slid nervelessly from the stool upon the floor. A sad look appeared upon the faces of the eager spectators, but the Prosecutor heeded neither the prisoner's distress, nor the pained look on the faces of his friends. For him it was 103 a professional triumph, and lifting the collusive foot in full view of the jury, he patted it approv- ingly, and said : "A perfect fit, gentlemen, as you ca" plainly see." The shoe was then taken off, his own put on, and he was told to stand up. An officer pro- duced a guage, and setting it on the floor, brought the slide down upon his head, and said, "Six feet, one inch." The Prosecutor handed the guage to the jury to see for themselves. "Sit down," said the officer. The prisoner dropped, rather than sat down. His agitation was now absolutely painful to all except the Prosecutor and detectives. To them it was evi- dence of guilt and it pleased them, strange as it may seem. A sheet of paper and a pen were placed upon a table before the prisoner, and he was told to write the words, "gold candlestick." He hesi- tated for a moment, then, as if with great effort to control himself, took the pen in his left hand, and wrote the accusing words in bold, well- formed characters. A murmur of discontent came from the agitated people. To them it seemed cruel to thus force the man to furnish such damaging evidence against himself. A priest was then called to the witness stand, who testified to the robbery, and the finding of ifll hi > 104 the shoes, and identified the pair on the Prose- cutor's teble as the ones found. He also identi- fied the candlestick as the one taken from its place on the altar the night of the robbery, and said that he knew the height from the floor to where it sat to be seven feet, seven inches. The gold coin was then shown to him, and he swore that it was one of the three stolen from the Sa- cred Treasury. And on cross-examination said he knew it to be one of the three coins, because only these three remained from the small num- ber struck. The others had been all recai;-d and melted by order of the Emperor of Rome, and these had been, ever since the year A. D. two hundred, in possession of the Church as sacred relics of its persecution in the early days of i's history. A carpenter swore that he found a gold can- dlestick, in the space between the wainscot and outer wall of the prisoner's coach house, and identified that on the Prosecutor's table, as the one he so found. Two wholesale merchants testified to the pris- oner, having about the time of the robbery, made large purchases from them for cash down. A detective then swore that he found the gold coin in the prisoner's house, and that it was hid- den away. 105 An Instructor at the gymnase testified that the prisoner often took lessons of him in fencing, that he sometimes wore gauntlets and that he wielded the sword in his left hand. Then the prosecutor took from his table a mailed glove, and said, "Gentlemen, this is the most material evidence in the whole case. These gloves as you probably know are worn by swordsmen for a protection to the hand and to secure a firm grip upon sword hilt. Since the commencement of the present century they are seldom worn. This particular glove is skilfully made from platinum, a rare and valuable metal of great durability. It is flexible, but not elastic, and was made from accurate measurement of every part of the hand. Each joint of the fingers and the hand, must be exactly matched by the joints in the glove, and the whole fitted closely, and when so made would not fit another hand in a thousand. The palm of this glove plainly shows wear from the sword hilt, as you may see," and he passed it to the jurors for inspection. "As you may also see, it is a left-hand glove, and the owner of it must be a left-handed swordsman, a very rare occurrence in the art of fencing. It has been proved that the prisoner is such a swordsman. This glove was made to fit a large I r i ill 11! 106 genteelly formed hand. The prisoner has such a hand. Now, gentlemen, you shall see this glove tried on the prisoner's hand, and it it fits, you will give the fact its full weight in determining his guilt. An officer then tried 011 the glove. "A good fit, gentlemen," said the prosecutor, holding up the trembling hand and bending the fingers to show that the joints all matched. "A little tight, I admit, but in eight years the hand has grown a trifle stout." The glove was removed from the hand of the prisoner with difficulty, as he had lost all control of his nerves and fallen back against the iron cage in amazed stupefaction. This closed the case f r the prosecution, and the prisoner's lawyei, an able and learned advo- cate, made no opening to the jury ; but stated to the Court that the evidence for the prosecution was of such a character that it could not be re- butted by positive testimony of any kind that it was possible to obtain, and therefore he asked that the prisoner be allowed to make to the jury the best explanation he could of the circum- stances which seemed so conclusively convicting. To this the Prosecutor objected, on the ground that one on trial for a crime could not testify in his own behalf. The judge ruled that he could not testify un- 107 der oath, but that he might make a statement in explanation if he desired. The prisoner had by this time, to some extent, mastered his agitation, and he slowly arose and in a voice husky with emotion, said : — "I know nniliing about the candlestick. I never saw it iill shown to me by the carpenter 4t the time he found it." "The shoes are not mine. I never had them in my possession for a moment." "The gold coin has been in my family for many generations. It lately came into my pos- session by the death of my father, and there is now no one of the family living who knows of this fact except myself. The last one, my sis- ter, died three months ago, ati■ 109 to walk toward that part of the room where the lawyers and witnesies sat. An officer called to him to sit down, but he paid no attention. The man was tall, with face nearly the color of bronze from evident exposure to the elements, the features were clean cut and classical, and at his side was a sword. This weapon attracted the attention of all. He had no right to be armed in that room. This each one who saw him knew. How he had got into the room, and why he wore a sword, were oii'istions mentally asked, as he coolly walked inside the Bar, and stood in front of the jury, facing the judge. The officers looked inquiringly at each other, to see which one would venture to arrest the daring intruder, but no one seemed to be willing to lay hand on so athletic looking a man. After standing thus long enough to give them a chance to make the attempt to take him into custody, he said in a clear, firm voice : "I demand a stay of proceedings." Both judge and lawyers were startled at the apt and precise legal language of this demand. And the judge, fearing he might be confronted by some learned lawyer in disguise, answered him in like language : "On what grounds ?" "On the ground that the prisoner at the Bar did not commit the robbery," replied the stranger. "How do you know this?" demanded the "I was there and saw it done, answered the man. "Do you know the robber and where he now is?" asked the judge. "I know the man, and he is in this room," was the quick reply. The excitement in the room, had each minute, since the strange man stood up and refused to sit down when commanded, been getting more intense, and now at this unexpected announce- ment, nearly every man of the hundreds present, started and looked accusingly each into the other's face, as if mentally searching out the man who had done this wicked thing. The suspense seemed unbearable, as the Judge said sternly : "Point out the robber !" The stranger, now the only cool and collected man in the room, ran his keen eyes deliberately over the long rows if almost breathless men, as if in search of the culprit. Then turning to the Judge, looked him full in the face for the space of a minute, and said : "Here he is — I am the man !" '■3 '\ If 11 4 The spell was broken, and a great sigh of re- lief came from the long benches. As soon as the judge could recover from the effects of this unexpected announcement, he said: "Officer, put this man under arrest !" The stranger laid his left hand on the hilt of his sword, and said as he looked savagely at the officers : "No man lays a hand on me and lives long enough to take it off." Then turning to the Judge, he said : "You know, or ought to know, that you can- not lawfully cause my arrest for a crime of which another man stands convicted." There was a hurried consultation between the Judge and Prosecutor, and then the latter turned to the stranger and said : "How am I to be satisfied that you committed this crime?" "By better evidence than you used to convict an innocent man," replied the stranger. "How can that be?" asked the Prosecutor. "Bring those shoes and try them on my feet, and you will find that they fit perfectly. You will also find, if you examine them more closely than did your sharp detectives that they are not mates. You committed a great error in trying : .! I , \\ '• ,11 Ml lit on only one shoe. If you had tried on the left shoe, you would have found that it did not fit the prisoner, and that he never could have worn it. His advocate should have compelled you to try on both shoes. "My left foot is slightly deformed and con- siderably smaller than the other. To prevent this being noticeable, I have my shoes made the same size and shape outside, but the left one is always lined with thick, soft morocco that fills the shoe to some extent, and yields to the de- formities of the foot, while the right shoe is lined with linen or thin kid. In this pair it is linen, and not the same color of the morocco." Then turning to the table of the Prosecutor, he seized a pen in his left hand and wrote in bold characters the words, "You are but an engine of the law." And changing the pen to his right hand, wrote the same words in as good form and passed the paper to the Judge, saying at the same time to the Prosecutor: "You see I am ambidextrous. Your detec- tives said that the man who robbed the church was left-handed. They should have been able to find from the way the work was done, and the tools left, the fact that he was double-right- handed. "Measure me, and you will find that I am six •>3 feet six inches tall. I could take easily an ob- ject from a place seven feet seven inches above the floor, but the prisoner could not A man cannot reach to grasp an object higher than fif- teen inches above his head. You should have tried this." Then turning suddenly to the priest who had testified, he mbuttoned an inside buckskin jacket, and from a small pocket brought forth three gold pieces, and laid them on a table near him, saying: "Look at these! They are the coins taken from the Sacred Treasury." The reverend Father bowed his head in silent contrition. And the stranger, without waiting for his answer, said to the Prosecutor : "I took the gold candlestick on my way out of the church, and when I got outside, I took temporary refuge in a small building near by. This building was in course of construction, and its doors and windows not clos Here I hastily concealed about my person the ill-gotten treasures. The candlestick bothered me, and I threw it behind the partition that was only partly built up, intending some night to come for it; but I changed my mind and left the country next day, and did not return until a few hours ago." Then taking the glove from the table, he laid 114 it palm up, and from some recess in his clothes produced and laid beside it another glove. It could be plainly seen that they were mates. Holding them up he said these gloves were made to fit my hands and they do fit, and he hauled them on. The left one was maae to fit my sword hilt also, and there is not another like it in the world, for I designed it myself, and he fitted the inside of the glove upon the curiously fashioned hilt at his right side and said, "Are you convinced that I robbed the church?" There was another consultation between the judge and prosecutor, and then the judge said: "Gentlemen of the jury, in view of what you have just seen and heard, you may reconsider your verdict." There was a few minutes of suspense, and then the forenr.an of the jury said: "We find ths prisoner not guilty." A mu»- mur of suppressed applause came from the mass of people on the benches, and the Judge said : "Prisoner at the Bar, you are discharged." An officer opened the door of the iron cage, but the dazed occupant did not stir from his seat, or seem to understand the eftect of what had just so strangely transpired before his eyes. The Prosecutor then turned to the stranger and said : ] '■5 "What is your name?" "That I will not tell you," said the man. "I have furnished all the evidence against myself that I intend to. The merchant has been dis- charged and cannot again be tried. My object has been accomplished. I am not now anxious for my own conviction." Another consultation, and an officer placed a chair in front of the jury, and the Prosecutor . :..y,id : "Gentlemen of the jury, you will now hearken to the evidence against this man," and turning to him, said: "Prisoner, take that seat!" The stranger turned fiercely and said : "I am no more a prisoner than you are. I came voluntarily here. I remain here volun- tarily. I could even now, with this good blade which I won the right to wear in the service of my country, cut my way out of this room, and beyond the jurisdiction of your Court. Take back that word or I will use it now on you !" The Prosecutor hesitated till the irate stranger half drew his glittering weapon, then he said : "I recall the word, and say, stranger, seat yourself on that chair." The man sat down and an officer tried the Ii6 shoes on. They fitted exactly each foot. Then they were given to the jury to examine and were found to be lined as the man had said. "Stand up !" said the Prosecutor. The man obeyed. An ofKcer measured him and said: "Six feet, six inches." The priest was then put on the witness stand, and said that he had now no doubt that the gold coins were the ones kept in the Treasury. The stranger looked at the subdued and abashed witness and said : 'A little while ago you swore that the coin then siiowed you was one of these coins, and that there were but three of them in the world. Let this be a lesson seldom learned by clergy- men, that what you only believe, is not neces- sarily true. The truth is there are many of these coins extant. What you swore to was not truth, but tradition." The Prosecutor here said to the Court, that he should not offer any furi.ier evidence, and asked the jury to find the man guilty on his own confession. The Judge then asked him if he wished to make a defence. "Only to say that I was in desperate need when I took the treasures, and that I am able "7 and willing to restore the full value of it to the Church," was the only reply. The jury after short deliberation, returned a verdict of guilty with a recommendation to mercy. The condemned man was told to stand up, and the Judge then said to him in a stern voice : "Now that I am about to pass sentence upon you, I demand of you in the King's name that you tell me who you are." The man fixed his hard eyes upon the judge, and said with a voice that seemed full of hidden meaning : "Edouard Gilenormand, were I to comply with your unwarranted demand, you would not dare to sentence me, and then a great crime would go unpunished. It is better that you pro- ceed with your duty." "Sentence the man, not the name." At the mention of his name, the Judge grew pale, and his voice trembled as he said, after some hesitation : "The minimum penalty allowed by the law is twenty years in the Galleys. I sentence you to twenty years." The man unbuckled his sword-belt, and laid the sheathed weapon on the Judge's desk, and said: iiS "Keep this blade till I call for it. It has been baptized in the blood of the enemies of France^ When I come for it I will tell you my name and rank." Then turning to the officer, he sa.d : 1 am now your prisoner. Do your duty. Two of the stoutest oi the officers laid each a hand on his shoulder and moved toward the outer door. At this moment the acquitted mer- chant seemed for the first time to realize that he was free, and springing from his cage like a wild beast, he exclaimed : . , . , , t ,m "OMonDieu! It is true! It is true 1 lam free! And I must thank the strange man for my deliverance !" . ^ -^ .. And he rushed for his liberator, but it was useless to attempt to force a way through the mass of struggling men, who seemed now to have lost all interest in him, in their frantic ef- forts to get a last glimpse of the mysterious stranger as he was led out of the room and away to the cruel Galleys, a self-condemned malefac- tor and erstwhile invincible Notary of Grand Pre. 41 ■fj 119 CHAPTER VIII. The Sagamore had cut the last notch in his stick, the ten times twelve moons and the nine times twelve moons had been faithfully chron- icled to the limit of an hour, and on the rock- lined shore of the deep cove described in the be- ginning of this story, he stood leaning against a jutting point of the black cliflf that was to cast for him a guiding shadow on the sand. With folded arms and frigid face he waited for what he doubted would be. About him were the wild things of nature, and himself as much a part of them as the crag against which he leaned. Untaught in the per- plexities of science, and stoical in hard unbelief of its truths, he wondered why the tide came and went, why its small curling waves were always crested with white, why the leaves of the forest were many colored in the Autumn, what made the rushing wind that sterwed them on the ground, why the moon waxed and waned, and why it should rise this night at the same time and be full, as it was nineteen years before ; and ;H 1 1 1 (i ! 1; 1 1 II ,, what meant the strange word, "cycle," told him by the Notary. More than doubting he watched the shore- ward surging of the tide till its last inward swell had spent itself on the wave-worn stones, and the sun had sunk behind the western hills. Then he looked back to the east, and there, round and yellow, glowed the full harvest moon. Presently on the beach was outlined a dim shadow of the tall rock with its tapering point touching the water's edge, just as the Notary had said that dark night in the woods so many moons ago. Amazed, he did not stir from his niche in the rock till, to his keen eyes and rough senses, clearly appeared all that had been so mysteri- ously told him would happen. Then, with wary steps as if stalking some fierce beast, he walked to the point of the shadow. There was the sea-polished, irregular shaped stone, just as it had been described. It took all his savage strength to lift it from its bed in the wave-packed gravel. Eagerly he dug in the sand at the bottom of the hole till his strong fingers grasped the metal box. Then raising himself erect with eagle gaze, he swept the shore up and down and the wide water away to the dim horizon, then seizing the box from its grave of nineteen vears he walked swiftly into the thick woods above the ledge. Here he sat down in a recess of a cliffy hillside, and waited till darkness and the lateness of the hour would shield him from probability of being seen by any other tha:, night prowlers of the forest. He was firm in the beliefs of his people about the Gods and myths of the mountains, and now he was troubled at the triumph of the white man's irreverent knowledge. His simple faith in the mysterious guidance of the Good Spirit was disturbed by the hard facts of human calcu- lation, and he trod the trail to his wigwam in mediuting mood, threw himself upon the fragrant boughs and did not leave them tilMate in the forenoon of the next day. The enigmatical box had never been out of his grasp; waking or sleeping, he had kept it close to his side. And when in the full light of day he had carefully scrutinized it, he sent Lete to ask the big Scotchman to come and see him. This man was the only one of the settlement who had his full confidence. Some time in the afternoon the girl returned, and the Highlander, with whom she had of late years become a great favorite, was with her. The Sagamore told him no more of the box than that he had found it in the sand on the shore, and asked him to open it. Red rust had 1 111 i„cru.ted it wd the Scotchman was obliged to ••llrd not before seen it. and now .he wM curious to know it. contents, and her. wa. the first eyes that looked under the raised hd. and te^er'ewalded with a sight of bright gold com. on the top of some time-.tained papers When a child she had seen the Ch«f handle these Klittering coins, and sometimes he had al- owed he to?lay with them. When she grew older and went to school he had occasionally ^ven her a gold piece to pay her teacher and fhe sight of them now filled her with dd.ght. a. she wondered if they were for her own. ''when taken out and counted, the papers were carefully removed and the box exammed for any Xr thing it might conUin. All b;t -e o, the papers were tied with tape and had a great seal K wax attached to them. That one was wnt- ten in a bold plain hand in the French language, and the Sagamore gave it to Lete to read aloud^ He undersfood French and the Scotchman sa^d he did also, much to the surprise of the Indian and the girl, as neither of them had ever heard a word of It from his lips. This is what was wnt- ten on the paper : "To the Girl Left With the Sagamore Glode. ■'Your name is Hypolcte Guavain. That was '»3 your mother'* maiden name. She died the day you were born. You will never know your father's name, and he does not know that you ever lived. He was a common suldier in the British army; but he was large and handsome, and your mother, a young girl full of romance, saw him on parade while on a visit to London, foolishly loved him, afterwards secretly married him and followed his regiment across the ocean to Quebec, where you were born and she died. He was poor and plebeian ; she was rich, beauti- ful and noble of family. You were placed with the Sagamore when a little child that your father might never know you. The papers with the seals are title deeds to the rich inheritance that is yours in France by descent from your mother, if your father knew that you uore born alive he could legally claim a life interest in these estates. "The title to all this property will vest in you the day you are twenty-one yesrs old ; and that will be the first day of September, 1774. You will go to France with your papers and (possess jiir property. Keep your mother's maiden name and no one will dispute your title. The papers are old deeds of family lands ; she was heir to all these lands and you are her sole heir. If I am then alive I will come to you if I can. I til 'nil 114 fi,»r's eldest brother, and the only '"" To^n^Satufher marriage and death. Twas I X concealed your birth from your foT-Frrd and' then you will have plenty ofmoneyandbeagreat^aiy.^^^^^^^^^^^ Count De le Frontenac, In Acadia Rene Le Blanc, Notary of Grand Pre. him au revoir, that, last to ner, u 'Tiving Lete to her thoughts, the men went outside and seated themselves on a fallen fa-ee whose fortune had so suddenly «^ .^^^^, The sound of footsteps among the fallen eaves soon arrested their attention, and lookmg m the I Its direction of the noise they saw 'i inonching with firm step, a tall man. He lad on the broad brimmed chapeau and long '^,-,.y jQijg gf ^l^g Recollet Friars of that day, a ^la-,- of Fr.inciscan monks remarkable for their piety and bravery, but his head was not shaven as was the custom of monks, and long iron-grey hair rested on his broad, slightly stooped shoulders. Unhesitat- ingly he walked directly to where the two men sat, and at once gave to the Sagamore the Mic- mac salutation of peace, then turning as if to sa- lute the other, he started suddenly back, and his eyes flashed as a menacing frown came over his fine features. Instantly a like change distorted the usually frank face of the Scotchman, as he rose to his feet and met the stem gaze of the Priest. "Plebe- ian seducer," muttered the monk in a half growl. "Escaped convict," replied the Scotchman in a higher tone. There is but one sequel to words like these from such men, and it came instantly, for the Priest threw off his robe and sprang like a tiger upon the Scotchman, who met the attack much as a bear would that of a mountain cat. He threw around him his great sinewy arms and en- deavored to squeeze him into submission, but found that his antagonist was muscular and Mi strengi.i priest's arms and legs. It sought to release himself, but struggiea his mieht to overmatch his adversary. ThSagamore looked on with about the same interest tlfat a boy watches the fig^t of two buUs^ when his father does not own either buU... He was himself strong and brave, and saw w th Tavag delight these muscular men contend for rmasters'hip, although he knew neither why they fought, nor what would fuUow the defeat '' furious as was the strife it l-ted several r^^^^^ utes without advantage to either, tilHhe Scotch ^an got an under-hold, and lifting his foe from Ws feet raised him breast high and with tremen- dou^force flung him upon the gro"f- wh^e he kv senseless. Then, without a word to either ol he r^e'he walked rapidly in the direction of his dweUhie He had unexpectedly met a mortal enemy 'and was not retreating, but biding time and place to meet in deadly conflict. The Sagamore did not stir from his seat til the Priest had recovered consciousness and put "7 on his long robe, then he walked to him and laying a heavy hand on his shoulder, said, "No- tary Grand Pre welcome back to woods of Acadia." The Priest did not return the saluta- tion, but with faltering voice said, "The little child," and with painful look waited reply; the Indian made none, but pointed to the wigwam and led the way. The meeting between Lete and the Notary was embarrassing to both. She had heard the Sagamore tell of his many daring deeds, and had fancied him a dashing, military appearing man, and was disappointed when he now told her that this robed and demure looking monk was the great Notary of Grand Pre. And he in turn, was not prepared to see his niece a tall, shapely, nut-brown Indian maiden. She was' handsome, that his heart conceded ; but he fan- cied she would be pretty and petite like her mother at her age. Neither spoke of this, but each intuitively read the thoughts of the other. The Sagamore understood the situation, and turned the current of their minds by asking the Notary to tell him how he had become a Priest. Willing to be diverted from thoughts that were painful, the robed, and now pensive man, commenced at once with his imprisonment and escape from Port Royal, and told all the perils l! I iff' !1: of his long journey to Canso-especially nar- ing n"uU the encounter with the wolves and hHiraculous deliverance by the ^tacU of *e ... Tfalil ^aid the Indian. Ureat spiru. SoThe had got back to France and S : hiLelf up I be P"-^ed *°- -^se'- had many years before committed, and was sen fenced To s'erve twenty years in the "uel chai- 'Xo^ the Galleys in place of the n^an^w^^^^^^^^^^^ one day near a steep mountain side where two SetJsr^rs-:^::ufcS ^bcTtSt^^sr^^^^ llrom the top How the people a.emb ed b hundreds and every known effort ^^s made rescue the child, but none succeeded; and night was near when he would fall asleep and tumble S his perilous perch. How he then asked the !^ard to unlock him from the cham that he Sght sav. the little one from what -emed cer- 3 death. How the guard did so and he by lat strength and gymnastic-acquired skill in SLng, scaled the steep, craggy mountam and S thf aid of men from above and a rope ha even his laconic questioner. "That man," he said, "is Lete's father. He is a deserter from the British army. I will inform on him and he will be shot." While saying these words the black scowl came again over his face and he seemed like the B' 1J3 Notary of Grand Pre as he had seen him on the dav oi the battle at Nictaux. It was some minutes before the Indian spoke^ Then he said slowly and with a look of savage ""Srw'mnotbeshot. Youwillnottel. He big white Brave and good. Notary ^randPe he big Brave too. but he no dare do harm to him. He my friend-same NoUry Grand Pre ■^ ThTn"he told how the Scotchman had saved the girl from drowning and with great strength and wonderful cunning had destroyed the Mo^ hawks, the dreaded enemies of the M.cmacs, and thus again saved Lete's life. The result of this conversation was that the next morning the Sagamore and Pnest and Lete, went together vo the cabm of the Scotch man, where a reconciliation was brought abou^ and the orphan girl gladly accepted a father m the grand looking, kind man she had so much admted for his strength and bravery and had secretly loved for a cause she did not till now ''"once that friendly relations were established, there were many things to be settled and the four strangely related persons spent the day to- gether. Lete prepared a dinner, and the men «3> Ulked over the aflfairs in which they were all more or less it.terested. It was finally decided that Lete's father should receive from the es- tates in France an annuity of three thousand francs, and that he remain in Acadia. He had in a quarrel with an officer killed him with a blow of his great fist, then deserted, and dared not be known. It was now too late in the season to take voy- age across the ocean, and they decided to wait until spnng, and then charter the Senemqua for the trip. This was Lete's proposition. She had been launched in the vessel, had christened her and now to be borne in her across the wide ocean to La Belle France, the home of her people, would be so romantic; that she stipulated as her part of the arranging, that the vessel be engaged for the voyage. To this the others conceded, and further plans were left for future days. Spring came at last, and on the forenoon ebb of the tide, on the first day of May, 1775 Lete in the wild garb of the daughter of a Micmac Chief, and decked with violets and Mayflowers gathered from the woods by many willing hands stood by the helmsman as he guided the buoy- ant ship, and waved a farewell to the land of Acadia, and her free, happy girihood life therein ; !t..-- if I ti finn lips murmured a sij^ce^* Fg ' ,«i pie. and the country -J^-'^JX t^ainty ot a a distrust in himseK, and felt th Higher Power somewherm the ^^^ ^^^ The last oi ^he "owd ^o le^e^^^ ^^^^ *^ Ton S: rough beach'and silently watched rr:XSn.eg^^;^esa.s.« ^S.^:rpaS:^^ttrrude dwelling in the woods. . ^ He had The Sagamore was more than sa ^^ susuined a double bereav«nen^ Th ^^^ ^^ ^^_ „,any years his constant ^J'''^ ^^ {,„„, his tutored grateiul pr.de ^ad go"^^°;;; j,,„ds presence. Never agam wouW he^ sh PJ ^^^^^ SluS:^r-raWe1Stthedu.ylorest ^^tdtlSS^FH^-S^.^ «ore buckskin clothes and l»gh t^Pj j^^^.^^, galloped his black stallion -Ja^* and ^^^ and looked so brave, now wore ^^^ shoes like women walked w^th s P ^^^^ looked afraid, and said prayers 133 And the solemn Aborigine registered his sor- row with a smothered sigh, and hastened his steps toward the lonely forest glades. The Highlander was in different mood. His spirits were buoyant and his step elastic. He was not pained at parting with Lete. She was destined to live a widely different life from his, and he accepted the inevitable without a pang. He was her natural father, by kindred blood al- lied; yet he did not feel the same endearment that warmed the heart of the austere savage, alien in blood and race, who had watched over her childhood years, and defended her from harm. Thus it is that Nature's righteous law defeats the vague theories and vain desires of man, and bestows rewards where best deserved. 134 In ill CHAPTER IX. pots; the extravagances o ^^^-^^^^^^^^^^ ^,^,. Among the interestmp P'°?"^\^°;" pame. '^'centuries ago. this building was a "Cathedral Centuries ag. "sanctuary" uttered demned crossed the broad stone ^ »35 up a strong room for his occupation and se- curity. One bright sunny forenoon in the month of May, 1778, there was in this old Cathedral a vast assembly of the most courtly men and fashion- able women of the, then, proud city of Paris. It was a period in the country's history when dress was adored and beauty worshipped; and it was to see a new star in beauty's brilliant constella- tion, that drew so many of the vain elite to the ancient church at this early hour of the day. The soft yellow rays of a thousand flickering tapers tinged the grey daylight from the decorated win- dows as it fell mellowed, upon delicate embroid- ery, rich plumes, and lovely faces beaming with expectation. Before the flower-wreathed altar, stood a no- ble looking man, and by his side, leaning on the arm of a tall, gray-robed monk, was a lovely girl in bridal costume. All eyes were upon the girl and sparkling with delight. Her symmetrical form, and teasingly unnamable complexion of her soft-featured, small, sweet face, made up a type of beauty that belonged to no one of the many cultivated modes of that courtly age. Among her feminine admirers there was no thought of rivalry, so unlike theirs were her cap- 136 tivating graces. It wa. the lily of the lake, be- ride the potted flower, of the con.ervatory ; the jlSection of nature outvying the enchantment. ^''AToft in the time-worn belfry, mellow toned bell, pealed a wedding chime, while .olemn- voiced priest, pronounced the "«"^«f' f^" mony. and the youthful pair were pledged for '' Already the reader know, that the bride i. Lete. Her hu.band is the young Count de Rochambeau. ^ At a fashionable gathenng, some months after Lete's arrival in France, she unexpectedly met the Count, and allowed him to discover her through the enchanting mask of society dress and polite manners; and to learn from other, that she was his equal and more, in family rank and prestige. Then she took a sly little maidenly sweet revenge by permitting him to play the role of an unaccepted suitor for two years before yielding to her heart's desires and consentmg to become his wife. . . • ^ • Youth, beauty and riches were their joint in- heritance; and titled society welcomed them to its ranks. . . . But events were at this time transpiring, that shaped the thoughts, and determined the con- 137 duct of brave men and true women. On the continent of North America, there had been for the last three years, a struggle for liberty that stirred the hearts of patriots everywhere. It was a contest between the common people and the power of kings; a strike for liberty of conduct. Already the youthful Marquis, de La Fayette, had espoused the cause of the colonists, and spent a year in the service of the rebel army, and was now returned with the title of General bestowed upon him by the so-called American Congress. Count de Rochambeau was his personal friend, and soon decided to join him in his ef- forts to raise an army to help the Provincialists fight for their rights. About seven thousand volunteers were soon collected, and ready to serve under the command of the enth""astic young General. When the time c«. , * • , ;■ for America, the Count and his Geiieiu i> .^ .^tonished at the claim of the beautiful Countess to be allowed to accompany her husband. She had already begun to tire of the platitudes of aristocratic society, and to long for the free- dom of peasants and fellowship with wild things. Arguments were of no weight when cast into the scale against this desire to be again for a m M III: III: if' ' fi; n 1 111: 138 while, in the familiar forests of America; and in Tess than two years from the day of the bnlhant wedding, she bade good-bye for a season t° courts and castles, and took passage m one of thelnsport ships of General La Fayette, for the far distant contment. . It was September, 1780, when the fleet amved at Rhode Island, where the soldiers remamed inactive until December, when General La Fay- ette started, with two thousand soldiers to march across the country to General Washmg- ton's headquarters in Northern Pennslyvama^ Count de Rochambeau had been made a Colonel, and he and his wife went with this de- tachment. . . j i,„„ The march was long and fatigumg, and when they were nearing its end there came over that part of the country a fierce snow-storm. It was one of those storms when the snow "'ems to come down in sheets, instead of flakes. All night long the wind appeared to be shakmg the frozen vapors out of the dark sky ; and by morn- ing there was over two feet of solid snow, with a thin, sharp crust. The French soldiers, unused to snow, were terrified at the severity of the storm, and the great depths of the icy element that seemed to them, impassable. Their position was penlous. IS I I'!! 1 "39 British troops far outnumbering them, were en- camped only about ten miles distant, well equipped with snow-shoes, and the soldiers mostly knew how to travel on them. The Frenchmen could neither wade through the snow, nor walk on raquets if they had them, and there was not a pair in the whole outfit. They were in an open country, and without means of fortification. They knew also, that there was among the British soldiers a strong feeling that they had better have stayed at home and minded their own afJairs; and that very little quarter would likely be shown in case of an attack. General Washington's forces were equipped for travel over the snow and could easily come to their assistance if only they knew where to find them, and their danger. The day was in- tensely cold, and at times a fine sleet fell, and in- creased the thickness of the sharp crust, and by night all hope of making their way through the snow was abandoned, and General La Fayette called a consultation with his officers. While thus engaged the sentinel informed the General that the Countess de Rochambeau would like to be admitted to the council. The General was gallant as well as brave, and the re- quest was at once granted. When the door of the tent was opened every man started to his il^ II il >\ f 'IV .\ ill 140 feet as what looked like an Indian warrior m- tered bit a minute sufficed to assure them that t was the young Countess in lull Micmac dress, it wi the'sam! dress she had on the day she oTon the deck of the Senemqua and wa.v^ a eood-bye to the land of Acadia. In her be t LTSe bright steel tomahawk, and the Count s Zy pistolf, and in her left hand she held a pa.^ rinow-shoes that she had earned away from Ac^S Not even her husband knew that she ha" these raquets or the dress with her outfit 'when she left France. "Not waiting for the officers to -over from their surprise at her strange appearance, the "°"^:S do you know in what d je.ion » General Washington's camp, and about how many miles it is from here?" "Why do you ask?" said the astomshed Com- "'^BeLse I am going to reach him, and pitet his soldiers on snow-shoes here before the Bnt- ish can reach us." . . "That is impossible," said the General with impatient confidence. "It is possible," quickly replied the woman^ "I can walk over the snow on these raquets and if the distance is not too far, I can reach the I ii MI American army long before daylight. The Brit- ish soldiers are a day's march from us, and they will not move tonight, and I can be back tomor- row with the help that we must have, or all be killed like wild animals in a trap." The General looked scrutinizingly at the con- fident volunteer. She was tall, well-proportioned and lusty-limbed, as her odd attire allowed him to see. Then without a word, he took from his saddle-bags a rough chart of the country, and looking it over, said: "The distance is abou' ten miles ; the direction north-west, but how can you keep the course?" "The night is clear," said the woman, "and I know how to follow a course by the stars and the trees as the Indians do." "But," urged the General, "the distance is long and the night very cold." "The distance is short for me," she replied, "and I will walk too fast to feel the cold." "There are wild beasts and savage Indians in the great forest through which you must pass, and there is no road," said the General. "I lived too long in the wild voods to fear either of them, and the snow has made for me the best of roads. Have I your permission to go, General?" was the answer received to this last objection. A perplexed look came over the face of the General and he turned to the young Count, as TZtiZ ««• to protest against the rash un- deXg'but he said not a word nor wuhdrew his eves for a moment from the fascmatmg ;:man of whom he was this minute prouder '"Att^gth the General said in a sad tone: "xt Stion is desperate. We have no oth«: hope of rescue-it shames me to say .t-but go 3e V -Oman, and may God speed you on the "* mho^further word the willing messenger stepped outside the tent, and slippmg her moc- casinned feet into the toe-straps of the raquettes. orlng lightly upon the surface of the untrodden Tw Some of L soldiers had seen her strange S as she went to the General's tent, and the r"sult was nearly the whole camp were now m- :;:! spectators. In the