V THE SWORD OF JUSTICE THE SWORD OF JUSTICE BY SHEPPARD STEVENS Author of "7 am the King" etc. BOSTON LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 1899 Copyright, 1899, BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. A U rights reserved. SBtatbersttg ?fress: JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A. 2T0 tfje fflratorg OF ONE WHO BEING DEAD YET SPEAKETH 2062G07 PREFACE THERE is, I think, no period in the early history of America which presents a more romantic set of incidents for the pen of a story-writer than the struggle between the French and Spanish for the possession of Florida, the bald recital of facts reading more like romance than history. With the events into which I have woven my story, I have taken no liberty beyond the slight one of making my hero, Pierre Debr6, twenty instead of sixteen, as he really was at the time of Gourgues' coming. In all else I have kept entirely to truth. Debre, Gourgues, Perez, Satouriona, Olotoraca, Athore, were all real people, as you may see from Parkman's fasci- nating account of this time. And here let me acknowledge my deep indebtedness to this writer. Of the seven sources from which the history of this time is drawn, I was able to consult four, the others being a private manu- script in the Gourgues family, and two unpub- lished documents in the possession of the Spanish government. I found that had I con- viii Preface tented myself with Mr. Parkman's account, I would have saved much time and trouble, for so thoroughly has he reaped and gleaned the field, that scarcely one poor fact escaped him to pay me for my labor. It has been my desire in this tale to present the more picturesque and less ferocious side of the Indians. They seem to have possessed many interesting customs, a few of which I have endeavored to depict. In the case of the Indian marriage of Pierre and Eugenie, I must plead guilty to having let imagination run away with facts. The marriage customs among the Mus- kogees are particularly bald, being merely the sending of a suit of fine buckskin clothing to the girl. Upon this, a consultation is held between the girl's mother, uncles, and aunts, her father having no voice in the matter. If they decide to accept the suitor, the clothing is retained, and he takes her to his lodge, to remain so long as it pleases him. The legend of the flood which Satouriona tells is of Algonquin origin, but I have not hesitated to make use of it, since Schoolcraft tell us that all the tribes have this story in one form or another. ST. Louis, June 14, 1899. The Sword of Justice PROLOGUE IT was the night of September 19, 1565. For several days there had raged over the northern coast of Florida one of those fierce September gales, accompanied by heavy, driving rains, which seem to threaten destruction to every object rising above ground. Within the flimsy structure which served as quarters for the inhabitants of Fort Carolina, those who by reason of age, sex, or bodily condition had been deemed unfit to join the expedition of Ribaut, huddled together in the dryest spot afforded them by their leaking shelter, trembling as every gust of wind vio- lently shook their poor building, like a rat in the jaws of an angry terrier, each moment threatening to leave them entirely at the mercy of the storm. Within a small room in the building on the north side of the parade a woman bent before an open fireplace, stirring something in the pot 2 The Sword of Justice which hung from a crane over the fitful blaze. Ever and anon a puff of wind sent a cloud of smoke down the rough chimney, and the ashes, with a wild swirl, flew hither and thither until they found a temporary resting-place in some crack or crevice. The one tallow dip burning on the table served only to radiate a dim yellow light within its small circle, leaving the rest of the room almost in total darkness, save when the flames in the fireplace leaped up to un- usual brightness, and sent flickering lights across the rough ceiling and into the not dis- tant corners. Little pools here and there on the floor, and the constant irritating drip, drip of falling water, told of the insufficiency of the palmetto thatch against such a storm as this. A heavier blast than any which had gone before, shook the house and bellowed for a moment in the chimney place. The woman bending before the fire paled and shuddered, nor did it need the acrid biting of the cloud of smoke which puffed in her eyes, to fill them to overflowing with hot tears. She drew back, coughing and choking ; her silently moving lips stopped for an instant in their ceaseless petition to God. From the shadow in the corner another figure began now to take shape, as a sturdy, dark-haired lad of about seventeen, with one arm bandaged and carried in a sling, raised himself impatiently from the wall-bed and came The Sword of Justice 3 within the dim circle of the candle light, where he seated himself on a wooden stool by the table. "Nay, mother, it is useless," he exclaimed impatiently, " I cannot rest for thinking of my father, wondering what is befalling him, and cursing this broken arm, but for which I would be at his side." The woman gave a sharp cry of pain as one who receives a sudden thrust. Passing quickly to the boy's side she gathered his head against her bosom. " Never speak so, Pierre," she cried almost fiercely. " Have you then no care for your poor mother's aching heart ? How could I bear this heavy night, had I you to grieve for as well as your father? " The lad drew her hand against his cheek with a gesture full of gentleness. "I am always forgetting, little mother, how ill fitted you are for a soldier's wife and a sol- dier's mother. Nothing of the Spartan is in your blood, I fear. Yet some day you must bear to see me march forth at my father's side, for it is not to be believed that you would bid me lay aside my sword, put on a kirtle, and help you in your housewifely duties ? " He ended his assertion with a rising inflection of the voice which turned it into a question, a question which his anxious, upraised eyes were already asking. 4 The Sword of Justice " I know it must be, I know it must be," the woman almost wailed, holding his head even closer as she spoke ; " but God keep it far off, for I know not yet how to endure it. Think of your father to-night, Pierre ; if he escape the dangers of this awful tempest, he hath yet to encounter the Spanish. Have we not learned in past days that the wrath of God is light beside the fury of man?" Pierre was about to answer, doubtless to offer her some poor word of comfort, when the sound of quick footfalls without caught his ear. In- stantly the door was thrust unceremoniously open to admit, together with a gust of wind and a shower of blown drops, the sturdy form of a Breton peasant woman. She slammed the door quickly, and having shut out the storm, began shaking a little of the superfluous water from her hair and person. Her short blue skirt was well drenched on one side, as indeed was her bodice, and the white chemisette which showed above it. Her long full sleeve of white clung damply to her arm, outlining its muscular strength sharply through the wet cloth. Her tall white collar, which usually curved away from the back of her head in such pride of snowy stiffness, lay now on her shoulders, a limp, soaked rag. " Mere Groton ! you are skin wet even from your little journey. Is it then so bad?" ques- tioned the other woman, who had left fondling The Sword of Justice 5 her boy's head and was now offering her visitor such help as possible in shaking out and drying her wet clothing. " But yes, Madame, the tempest is fearful, and the covered passage, open as it is against the parade, gives little or no shelter, for the wind is whiffling and blows from all quarters of the heavens at once. God pity those at sea this night ! " The peasant woman uttered these words as if they were torn from her against her will. " Amen," whispered Madame Debre, while the eyes of both women met and exchanged their burden of sorrowful foreboding. " Come anear the fire, Mere Groton, it burns but fitfully, but it will dry you somewhat, if the heat of it is not too great for your bearing." " Nay, as to that, Madame, this wind hath in it a chill which makes a bit of a fire not unwelcome ; but to what use is it that I dry myself, when I must even now make the journey back and turn my other side to the blast. I will at least be well wet on both sides, and not like a frying fish, brown of one side and raw of the other. If you have the porridge ready for me, I '11 be off at once, and see if haply I can tempt the com- mandant to eat a little. Truly, Madame, for some time past he hath clean turned from my poor cooking, and right thankful was I this day for your offer to prepare him somewhat for a change. Nay, let me " and Mere Groton, her 6 The Sword of Justice wooden sabots making a cheerful clatter on the floor, stepped briskly to the fireplace where she deftly anticipated Madame Debr^, swinging the copper pot from the crane and turning its steaming contents into a pewter bowl set ready, warming. " Say to the commandant for me, good mother, that I fear he will have little stomach for my poor stuff, after all. The storm hath so blown down the chimney, the porridge will have scarce any flavor save that of smoke and ashes." " Never fear, Madame, it will render his heart comfort, even if it do his stomach little good ; and the fever hath left him so little taste, I doubt if he can discern aught of the smoke. He hath need of all kindness now, and it wrings my heart to see his heavy mood since the coming of Sieur Ribaut. He takes great shame and sor- row to himself because of the ill reports of his doings which have been borne over the sea to the king's ear. I am sometimes for fearing he will never live to answer his Majesty's recall and appear before him in France." " Tis a foul shame that ill should have gone abroad concerning your master," said Pierre, speaking now for the first time, a strong note of indignation running through his tone ; " Sieur de Loudonniere hath proved himself in all things a just man and a good soldier, and deserves ill speaking from none. But, Mere Groton, why takes he this idle prating so to heart? The Sieur The Sword of Justice 7 Ribaut hath seen the error of these reports, and greatly commends our commandant, and begs him, despite the king's summons, to remain at Fort Carolina and in command. The Sieur Ri- baut undertakes to set the commandant right in the king's eyes so soon as he shall reach France." " Yes, yes, lad, all this I know right well ; also I know that my master will hear naught of this offer, but will go at once to answer the king in person. He hath borne many burdens since coming to this land of sorrow, but this last takes the life of him more than all others. Ah, Madame, I would this Ribaut had not arrived for a little time, then would we be even now on the sea returning to France to France." She repeated the last word with longing tenderness. "Truly, good mother, I fear our plight would then be little better than it now is, for this is sorry weather for sailing the deep ; " and Madame Debre sighed, her thoughts, diverted for a mo- ment by the talk of Loudonniere, slipping back at once to their old sorrowful groove. " And think you, Madame," answered the Breton woman with spirit, " that the good God would have the hard heart to destroy us when we had once more set our faces toward France? 'T is not to be believed ; and if it were so, and we indeed perished, at least our bones would lie a few leagues nearer home, whereas now we are like to leave them in this land of sorrow for 8 The Sword of Justice Spaniard and buzzard to pick. But while I chatter, the porridge cools." Saying which she seized the pewter basin and, covering it with her apron, hurriedly departed, letting in a gust of rain and wind as she opened and closed the door. " Poor woman, she bears a faithful and de- voted heart toward her master, and takes his griefs even as heavily as he does," said Madame Debre, looking toward the door through which the woman had but now disappeared. " It is true, and, moreover, I am fearful that Mere Groton's head-shakings are not without good cause. The commandant is a very ill man, and refuses to behave as such. Do as she may, the poor woman cannot keep him to his bed. He will have on his hose and doublet and creep to the guard-room to see that his orders are being carried forward, and naught neglected for our safety. This very day, 'twas all that Saint Cler could do to keep him from going into the storm to assure himself that the men were doing all that might be to repair the breach in the rampart. It is a monstrous pity we had not been able to foresee the coming of Sieur Ri- baut, and held our hand from the destruction of this our poor shelter." Pierre concluded with a sigh of regret. " T is well enough to regret these matters, but for my part I do most condemn the fool- hardy decision of Sieur Ribaut to attack the Spanish. Scarce a man of them all but gave The Sword of Justice 9 his word against it, despite which he refused to listen to reason, and sailed away, taking even the few poor men-at-arms that we had for our defence." " Nevertheless, mother, 'twas not only a bold act, but I do believe 't was a right well con- ceived plan. How could we know that God himself would enter the field against us and loose the four winds of heaven for our destruc- tion. If we of the Huguenot faith are indeed the chosen of the Almighty, to bear His name before all nations, 'tis passing strange that He doth seem to hold so little care toward us, and to the evil persecution of man even adds the strength of His destroying arm," returned the boy with hotness. " Hush, my son, your rebellious tongue is perilous near to blasphemy. Whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth. The ways of Providence are indeed dark and full of mystery, but that which the Lord of Hosts permits must be right it must be right." She repeated the last phrase with a vehemence which seemed more an attempt to still the clamoring doubts of her own heart than any effort to meet the boy's im- patient questioning. " Doubtless you have the right of it, mother, but it is too much for my little wit," returned Pierre soothingly, intuitively understanding that his doubts were adding an extra weight to her already heavy burden. io The Sword of Justice Silence lasted between them for a time, broken only by the noise of the wind, the dull pouring of the rain, and the constant drip, drop of the leaking thatch. Then with an effort Madame Debre withdrew her gaze from space and roused herself from her dreary thoughts. " Go to your bed, Pierre, it grows late, and what with your broken arm you will be fretting yourself into a fever like that of the command- ant; then indeed would I be moved to doubt all things," she ended vaguely. " Best not lay aside your hose and doublet, for any minute may find us shelterless in the storm." The boy rose obediently. " But for yourself, mother," he questioned, " will you seek sleep as well? 'T is no better for you to wake and watch than for me. Come you to your bed also," he coaxed lovingly. " Presently, presently, Pierre, I will but sit here a little longer, then I promise you to rest." With this the boy was forced to content himself, though he turned away to his bed with reluct- ance, and once even took a step back as if to dispute his mother's authority and remain with her. His second thought was better, however. He rolled himself into his wall-bed, drawing the curtains to shut away the faint light of the candle. Youth knows not how to wake and watch even in moments of great stress, and after a time the loud regular breathing from the corner told the watching mother that mer- The Sword of Justice 1 1 ciful oblivion had shut the boy away from care. The night wore on. The wind boomed in the chimney, the torrents of leaden rain fell with a dull roar on the soaked thatch, the steady drip in the room increased, sometimes stopping its irritating regularity to run for a moment in a little stream, only to take up the old drip, drop, drip when the pressure of water had relieved itself. At length poor, tortured nature found its rightful vent: the woman flung herself forward on the table, her arms stretched out across it, her head buried against them. A horror greater than words could utter possessed and encompassed her. The weight of the world seemed to crush her frail being. Her sobs came hard and fast now, and a merciful rain of tears with them. Her stiff white lips were striving to utter something between the gasps and cries which tore her. " Out of the deep have I called upon Thee, Lord, Lord, hear my voice." Outside the storm gathered in violence, although an hour since it seemed to have reached a point beyond which it could not go. On the rampart the sentries had been forced to give over the hopeless task of walking their narrow beat, and were huddled to the water- soaked earth in an effort to save themselves from being blown from their places into the 1 2 The Sword of Justice defending ditch beyond. Faithfully they kept their lookout, although the blackness and blind- ing sheets of rain would have well concealed an enemy not ten feet distant. It was toward morning now, though the dawn showed no faintest signs of breaking, and the east was dark as midnight. The guard-room door opened and closed, allowing a feeble ray of light to streak for a brief instant across the parade. A man came out into the blackness, struggling toward the sentries. It was La Vigne, the officer of the guard, and the men on the rampart watched hopefully the tiny ray of light which came from his lantern, half held under his blowing cloak to keep it from being utterly extinguished. He struggled forward, battling against the wind, clutching his drooping beaver to his head with one hand, while with the other he strove to control the shifting folds of his great cloak, which offered little protection for anything save the smoking lantern beneath. At length he reached the first sentry, would indeed have stumbled over him in the blackness had not the man raised himself and shouted at the top of his voice, " Better get to your knees, captain, or you are like to go whirling into yonder ditch." "God's mercy, man, but this is fearful," shouted the captain in return, while a fresh blast tore his beaver from his clasped fingers and flung it into the darkness like a leaf. The Sword of Justice 1 3 " Surely this storm is our protection as well as our trial, for no enemy could attack on such a night. The commandant sleeps at length, and I dare not wake him, but on my own authority I shall relieve the guard. Get you out of this as soon as may be, sergeant," and La Vigne turned about with his flickering lantern, and made such slow way as he could back to shelter. Five minutes later the last sentry tramped, dripping like a sponge, into the guard-room of the barracks, and Fort Carolina lay as un- guarded against the tempest of blood about to break over it, as it was to the tempest of water that already deluged it. II DURING the most of this black night, even while La Vigne dismissed the sentries with the calm assertion that no enemy would or could lurk near in such a storm, not one mile distant the van-guard of a force of five hundred Spaniards waited the coming of another day, seeking such poor shelter as the thick pine forest afforded : waited with as grim forebodings as the helpless people within Fort Caroline. Eight days before, Pedro Menendez, Adelan- tado of Florida by appointment of his most Catholic Majesty, Philip II., had watched with 14 The Sword of Justice a thankful heart the light breeze which had sprung up almost as an answer to prayer, lash itself into a great gale. In this gale he saw the ships of Jean Ribaut, which had but now threatened swift destruction to the newly estab- lished town of St. Augustine, driven to sea, and, to the experienced eyes of a sailor, to almost certain wreck. Then it was that the bold thought of an over- land march against Fort Caroline came to the brain of Menendez, and swift to act, he as- sembled his officers in the great log-built lodge of Seloy, the Indian chief, of which the Spaniards had promptly dispossessed him on landing. Here the emissary of Philip II. laid before those under him his plan of action, only to meet an opposition from all quarters, as sullen as it was determined. No argu- ment, no remonstrance availed : Menendez com- manded when argument failed, and by force of a tremendous personality he led five hundred pike-men and arquebusiers, besides their offi- cers, on a march against the French Fort. Now on the night of September 19, the Span- ish, although they themselves were not aware of it, were within a mile of their destination, having marched these two days through floods of driv- ing rain, through marsh and morass almost waist deep, often obliged to hack their way through sharp palmetto, scrub, and " hum- mock" matted with brambles and wild vines. 1 he Sword of Justice 1 5 They were wet as men could be, their match cords would not ignite, their ammunition was damp, the allowance of bread with which each man had started the journey had long since been cast aside, water-soaked and worth- less. Their canteens were empty of the wine which might have imparted a little glow of warmth and comfort. Shivering, cursing, the water dripping from their rusty morions and running clammily under their steel corselets, some sat, some stood, others even tried to gain a brief rest on the spongy earth, while they waited the coming of dawn. " This Asturian corito knows no more of war on shore than doth an ass," said a sullen young ensign, Fernando Perez, aloud to one of his fellows. " He hath betrayed us all, and, by the Holy Virgin, had my counsel been fol- lowed he would have had his just deserts ere ever he set forth on this cursed journey." " Have a care to your tongue, Perez. If the Adelantado hear your speech you are like to get a convenient thrust in your back ere this expedition be over. And if not so, sooner or later you will come to pay the price of your rashness, that I promise you," returned his more cautious companion. " And if it be even as you say, is it worse to die so, than to perish of hunger, or choke of swallowing this marsh flood which forever pours on us, until we are in a fair way to 1 6 The Sword of Justice be drowned?" questioned the other, in sheer bravado refusing to lower his tone ever so little. " By the blessed Virgin, I dare be sworn many of the common soldiers have not had such a cleansing as this storm hath ren- dered them, since the hour of their birth. A sorry set to storm and take a fort, hungry, wet, and footsore, as we are. As for me, I would deem it folly to storm a defended spot garrisoned by babes, with men in such a plight ; yet, curse him, the Asturian will be for leading us forward now that the light is coming. A pest on these new countries, I know not what evil thing prompted me hither." " As to that, comrade, it is not hard guess- ing: debts, damnable debts. Naught lends such fleetness to the heels of a man as a dog- ging creditor. There goes the Adelantado now, doubtless to reconnoitre," he broke off to say, as Menendez, a guide, and a few offi- cers, tramped past in the gray light. " And before long the trumpets will be sound- ing an assault, if the lads can open their mouths for the blast without having them filled with water," growled Perez in a tone of deep disgust. " Mercy of God, Fernando, what would you have?" exclaimed his companion, "what else can we do but assault and take the Fort? We are starving now, we have neither bread nor wine to sustain us on a return march to our camp. What, then? As for myself, I shall The Sword of Justice 1 7 eat or die, for I have taken in my belt to the last hole and have no further means by which to contract the gnawing pain within me. Surely the French must have something upon which a man can stay his stomach, and I am for get- ting at it as speedily as possible." " No fear of your starving, Manuel, you could live these many days on your fat, as a bear in the cold season," answered Perez, moved for an instant to lighter mood by the look of woe on the fat countenance of his friend. Ere long the waiting comrades saw the re- turn of Menendez, saw, too, a look of dark de- termination written in deep lines on his fanatic face. They watched him turn his steps toward the body of officers who were already gathered, talking in low tones. Shortly there could be heard, faintly through the pouring rain, the sound of his impassioned voice, rising and fall- ing, as he harangued the men, pleading, threat- ening, and arguing. At first it seemed to no avail that he poured forth his eloquence, for a stolid resistance was visible both in their faces and attitudes; at length, however, his words began to strike a few sparks, and ere the group broke up, the will of Pedro Menendez had again imposed itself upon those resisting wills. The order to move forward came shortly as Perez had predicted, and the troops took up their march in straggling disorderly array that spoke little for their discipline. They were not 1 8 The Sword of Justice long in reaching the crest of the hill which lay between them and their destination. There beneath lay Fort Caroline, dimly seen through the early morning light and the pouring rain. The trumpets sounded the assault. Then there rang over the sleeping, unguarded Fort the fierce battle cry, " Santiago ! At them ! God with us ! Vic- tory ! " And down the low hill the Spanish poured, sweeping along like a wave of destruc- tion. A young trumpeter who chanced to be with- out on the parade was the only observer of this scene. For an instant he was paralyzed by fright, then he quickly put his shaking trumpet to his mouth, and to his credit be it said, he sounded the alarm in no uncertain tone. In an instant all was turmoil. Sick men leaped from their beds, the soldiers rushed from their quarters, half naked, and wholly unarmed. Loudonniere seized his sword and target, shout- ing to his men to follow him. " The breach ! the breach ! " he cried rushing toward the most defenceless spot. Too late, sharp Spanish eyes had already discerned this weakness, and even as the gallant Frenchman and his ill clad, ill armed, band reached the spot, a horde of dark faces appeared over the rampart and a rush of well-armed Spaniards met his feeble force. Hither and thither now fled the fright- ened French, men, women, and children, until The Sword of fiistice 1 9 a quick thrust from a pike, a heavy blow from a halberd, set them at rest forever. When the first note of the trumpeter's fright- ened warning sounded, Madame Debr6 had heard it with little surprise. Her vigil of the night had prepared her for horrors. For a moment she was in doubt if the trumpet's warn- ing sound was not indeed a part of the same horrid imaginings which had stayed with her through the long hours of darkness. The shrill note came again and yet again; the sound of swift running feet, cries of fright, screams of mortal agony, began now to mingle with its blare, then it ceased abruptly, cut off in the midst of a note. " Pierre, Pierre," called the frightened woman, shaking the sleeping lad, " Pierre, wake quickly, something fearful has befallen." The boy roused from his heavy sleep, still dazed, came to his feet with a look of startled wonder in his dark eyes. "What is it? What is wrong?" he ques- tioned, and as if in answer, a loud shout of " Santiago ! Santiago ! " sounded outside and awfully near. The blood flew from his cheek, leaving him pale but not unmindful of his manhood. His first thought was for a weapon ; alas ! there was none. He sprung forward and seized one of the fire-irons. At that moment came a heavy pounding on tha door, and good Mere Groton's 2O The Sword of Justice voice, frightened almost beyond recognition, screamed its warning. " Madame, Madame, flee for your lives, the Spaniards are upon us ! God give wings to your feet I follow my master," and the sharp sound of her retreating sabots could be heard even through the din of battle. " Come, mother," said the boy, taking com- mand at once by right of his sex. " No use to linger here to be slaughtered like rats in a trap." He flung wide the door, and grasping the fire-iron in his left and unwounded hand, with his mother close at his side issued from the room. The sight which met his eyes was enough to turn young blood craven. On the far side of the parade the Spanish were swarm- ing in over the broken rampart, leaving dead bodies fallen in every position of grotesque horror to mark their passage. One of the great gates of the Fort had been flung wide, and through it the body of the French were now pressing in a futile attempt to escape, only, how- ever, to meet a stream of incoming Spaniards. " Come, mother, quickly," called Pierre, a faint plan forming in his ready brain. At this instant the slight figure of a child about fourteen, clad only in her loose night- gown, her tumbled, dark curls lying in disorder on her shoulders, the slumber of innocent childhood scarce frightened from her startled eyes, ran toward them with a scream of terror, and buried her face against Madame Debre's The Sword of Justice 2 1 skirts. " Oh, Madame, Madame ! take me with you, I know not what to do," she wailed pitifully. " Eugenie, child," exclaimed the gentlewoman, hurriedly unwrapping from her shoulders the long gray cloak which she had caught up, and enveloping the child's shivering body in it. " Quickly, mother, there is no time for tarry- ing," exclaimed Pierre impatiently, thrusting the figure of the child between them, and hurrying forward even as he spoke. On reaching the gate Pierre found it to be even as he had supposed : the Spaniards with- out were busy at their game of slaughter, and there was no hope of escape in this direction, nor, for the matter of that, in any other yet. With a quick push he sent little Eugenie behind the shelter of the great wide-opened gate, his mother next, and, the fire-iron firmly grasped in his uninjured hand, he slipped in after them, determined to sell life as dearly as possible if the worst befell, hoping meanwhile that, as the battle passed away from the gate, an opportu- nity for escape might present itself. As for the dazed, frightened fugitives, they were not long in realizing that the way through the open gate was the way to quick death. They began at once to press back, while the Spaniards came on, slaughtering at every step. They were well within the Fort now, and the battle if battle you could call it where sick 22 The Sword of Justice men, helpless women, and little children knelt defenceless before the enemy to receive their death-blow now raged away from the gate. At length Pierre's hoped-for opportunity came. No one had thought to look behind the open gate. Why hunt for victims, when at every step the lust for slaughter found ample satisfaction? Creeping from their hiding-place they suc- ceeded in slipping through the gate unobserved. Turning at once toward the nearest spot where palmetto scrub afforded even a slight hiding- place they ran as fast as fear-stricken feet could bear them. From time to time Pierre glanced back over his shoulder. No sign of pursuit yet, and they were already within the screening bushes; the friendly forest, not far distant, seemed already to reach out welcoming arms. On they hurried, keeping the child ever between them as they ran. They reached the dense underbrush ; the boy heaved a sigh of relief seeing their hope of escape. His rejoicing was too soon, Eugenie's Spartan courage had found its limit. " Oh, Madame, Madame ! I can go no farther ; my feet, my feet," she wailed in a loud voice, looking down with tear-dimmed eyes on her bare feet, whose tender flesh was so cruelly lacerated by the sharp edges of palmetto scrub, that each step had left its bloody mark this long way. The Sword of Justice 23 The high-pitched childish voice carried well, and its thin tones fell on the ears of a group of Spaniards lurking not far distant in the woods. It was in vain that the three hunted creatures crouched to the earth, hoping to remain unseen. The first of the enemy was soon upon them, shouting to his fellows " to come on, lest some of this hell spawn escape ! " As the foremost Spaniard reached them, Pierre raised himself from his crouching posi- tion. Brandishing his fire-iron, he struck the fellow's pike such a blow, that it shattered use- less in his hand. Quickly he followed up his advantage with a second stroke of his weapon, which, despite that it was delivered with his left hand, fell true, crushing the fellow's skull. All to no purpose, however, for in another moment a halberd crashed against the boy's head, and sent him reeling to the earth without sound or twitching muscle to indicate a lingering spark of life. " Pierre, Pierre ! " screamed the agonized mother, raising her boy's senseless head on her arm, all oblivious, in her grief, of the evil pres- ence above her, or her own deadly peril. Be- fore the blow could fall, a companion caught the upraised arm of her assailant. " Hold, man, the Adelantado's orders are, from now on spare the women, and children under fifteen. Besides the which, fool, why desire to kill the woman?' Though not in her 24 The Sword of Justice first youth, she is not uncomely. As for the other," pointing to Eugenie, " she is but unripe fruit, and will be the better for a little keeping. Let be, man." " Tis ever the same with you, Perez, a pretty face or the whisk of a skirt is enough to turn you from your duty," growled his companion surlily, but he dropped his weapon in spite of his tone of protest. As for the poor mother, huddled over her dead boy, she neither regarded that death had threatened, nor life been granted her. She was oblivious to all thought save " Pierre, Pierre." Nor did she heed when a rough hand set her on her feet, and the prick of a pike in her back bade her not lag in her going. She clasped Eugenie by the hand; the childish agony on the quivering young lips was hushed now by fear; no sound came from the little one, although the tender cut feet left their mark of blood at each step. Near the gate they met soldiers already drag- ging away the dead bodies to fling them by the river brink, while within the court the faint sickening odor of the shambles hung over the place, the rain pools had taken on a deep red hue, and everything seemed to swim in blood. No look of horror or dread marked the un- moved face of this woman, who used to shudder and draw aside at the least thought of pain. Her roving eyes glanced from one awful sight The Sword of Justice 25 to another with no more of shrinking in them than if she walked in a garden of roses, though the child hid her face, trembling. Madame only raised the hem of her gown, lest it be polluted by the streams of cooling blood over which she stepped. The habit of daintiness, a habit of a lifetime, unconsciously asserted it- self in this hour, when reason, sympathy, almost life itself, had been struck down by the shock of circumstance. Across the parade the soldiers took her, thrusting her into the room whence less than an hour before she had fled with her boy, and where each familiar object cut into her mem- ory like a lash. The place was crowded with women and children huddled about in every attitude of grief and despair, nor did any seem to heed the new-comers. Seated on the floor, Madame Debre" covered her eyes with her shaking hands. Oh, if for one merciful moment she could shut out the sight of her dead boy's face. " Pierre, Pierre, Pierre " was all the thought of which her stricken brain was capable. Oh, sorrowing woman, the hand of adversity is indeed heavy upon you, for worse than the loss of your hus- band, worse than the slaughter of your boy is yet in store for you. Force your white lips to say again and yet again, as you did but lately, " Whatsoever the Lord of Hosts permits, surely that must be right surely that must be right," 26 The Sword of Justice lest, forgetting this, the madness of unbelief fall upon you. Outside the sounds of fright and mortal extremity gave place in time to the sounds of revelry and mirth, as the famished, blood- glutted Spaniards feasted on the wine and gen- erous stores but lately arrived at the Fort with Jean Ribaut. When darkness fell again over the land it shut out the sight of the heaped-up dead by the river brink, and it drew a merciful cover over the blackened faces and staring eyes of a score of heavy bodies dangling from a pine-tree which the night wind set swaying in ghastly unison of motion. Over these, a board fastened to the tree trunk bore the rough inscription burned into its surface, " Not as to Frenchmen, but as to heretics." Ill AND now History turns a page, and with inex- orable finger outstretched points to a chapter of yet darker deeds : I speak of the fate which befell the expedition under Jean Ribaut, whose ships were driven inshore by the storm and wrecked, some not far from the mouth of Matanzas Inlet, others lower down the coast. I have no wish to lead you through the reek of human butchery oftener than need be, and The Sword of Justice 27 will therefore pass over the account of the first massacre which took place on the lower point of that island now known as Anastasia. In recounting the second I repeat the first, so alike were they in every detail, save that from the first band of two hundred men who sur- rendered, twelve Breton sailors who professed themselves to be Romanists, and because of the Spanish need for craftsmen four carpen- ters and calkers from among the French, were saved and sent to St. Augustine. The remaining one hundred and eighty-four men, with hands bound, perished helplessly, after having sur- rendered their weapons, trusting to the good faith of the Spanish commander. For a second time Indian runners brought to the Spanish town the news that camp-fires burned near the mouth of the Matanzas, and for a second time Menendez and his force crossed the inlet, marched over the island, and followed the coast line until at midnight they beheld, gleaming on the other side of the strip of water, the fires of the shipwrecked French. I shall pass over the details of the trickery by which one hundred and fifty of the three hundred and fifty half-starved men were per- suaded to disarm themselves and surrender peacefully into the hands of the Spanish, trust- ing to the implied promise contained in the words of Menendez, " If you will give up^our 28 The Sword of Justice arms and banners, and place yourselves at my mercy, you may do so, and I will act toward you as God shall give me grace. Do as you will, for other than this you can have neither truce nor friendship with me." History speaks with no uncertain sound of this period, there being extant five accounts by eye-witnesses, three of Spanish and two of French origin. Out of the mouth of the Spaniard is the Spaniard judged and condemned. It was late evening before the last boat-load of the French crossed the Inlet and submitted themselves to be bound even as their prede- cessors. Helpless in the hands of their enemies, they were too late awakened to the treachery that surrounded them. The sun had already made its swift descent as it does in this latitude. Darkness threatened to cover the land until the flaming afterglow be- gan to burn in the western sky, and soon the light unrolled like a bloody banner. Was it a reflection of the deed already done, or a foreshadowing of the deed to come ? To some of those starving French, weary and despairing, bound fast and awaiting death, it seemed neither, but rather the first hint of the glory to be, for those who died steadfast in the faith. In vain had Mendoza, the black-robed con- fessor of the Adelantado, passed slowly up and The Sword of Justice 29 down the line of condemned, holding aloft the crucifix, pleading, threatening, commanding; offering life here and hereafter to those who would abjure their faith. So far only one had availed himself of these offers, and stood now with thongs loosed and hands unbound, trying to bear himself with an air of bravado, striving meanwhile to forget, if possible, the groans and hisses, the cries of " renegade " and " coward," which had but now welled up from the throats of those hundred and fifty dauntless ones. He was a man of about forty, tall and de- cidedly handsome, though all the features were too sharp for perfection, and the close-set eyes gave a crafty look, which, with the determined mouth and chin, boded ill for any who thwarted his purpose. His clothing was water-soaked and torn, the once handsome material looked scarce better than a beggar's rags. His head was bare, and a white line on the upper part of the forehead showed how much the sun of this semi-tropic country had browned his usu- ally fair skin. He was watching the priest with anxious eyes, as for the third time he paused before two men who stood a little in advance of their comrades. " Jean Ribaut," said the priest solemnly, hold- ing the crucifix before the soldier's eyes, "re- cant before it is too late. Know you not that 30 The Sword of Justice otherwise your minutes on earth are short, and that in the hereafter the fires of hell burn hotly and endure eternally for such heretics as you ? " Ribaut gazed upon the crucifix with eyes that seemed to soften a little, as they wandered from the thorn-crowned head to the pierced hands and feet of the image. " If you would have me turn weakling, take that emblem from before my eyes, thou follower of the Scarlet Woman. By it you but bring to mind the death of my Master, and teach me strength to die as He did, rather than deny Him. We are but earth, and must return to earth: twenty years more or less matters little. Do your will with me, for I am ready." It was at this instant that the Frenchman of whom I have spoken moved from the spot where he stood apart, to the group near the priest. As he came near, Ribaut and his com- panion took a backward step, as if shrinking from his presence. Seeing this, Philippe de Lavalatte's face flushed an angry red, and his narrow eyes flashed open to emit a look of deadly hate. He appeared not to notice Ribaut, but had his looks fastened on the face of the man next him. " You do well to draw yourself from the con- tamination of my touch, Henri Debre", but I will live to put a greater foulness on you and yours," he spoke rapidly and in French. " Call The Sword of Justice 3 1 me renegade and coward, if it please you ; what care I for hair-splitting creeds? Think you I sought this land for religious liberty? Pah ! I care not for God or devil, mass or psalm-singing. I came in the wake of a woman's kirtle, yes, your wife, Henri Debre. You won her from me, but I have waited, fol- lowed, bided my time, and now that my hour is come, think you that mass or psalter will separate us? Trust me they shall not, nor will the want of a marriage ceremony keep us apart either, brave Henri. While you lie rotting here, and the carrion birds batten on your flesh, I will possess your wife, if she will or no. You think her dead ; never believe it, man. Although these wily Spaniards give out that all at Fort Caroline were put to the sword, I have it direct from my father the devil that some few women live, and she amongst them. Ah ! ha ! you start, and strain at your bonds, and look toward the holy father's cru- cifix. You too would become coward and renegade," and the man finished with a jeering laugh. It was true Henri Debr6 was straining at his bonds, while drops of deadly sweat stood on his white face. He was looking toward the upheld crucifix, and the first temptation of this awful hour had gripped his soul. " Courage, brother, courage," exclaimed Ribaut, seeing his struggle and the agony 32 The Sword of Justice marked on his face. " Never let this coward's words turn you from your manhood. They are dead at Fort Caroline, all dead. Those you love await you above." " Oh, merciful God ! " groaned the man, " if I could know it. If she is indeed alive, de- fenceless in the hands of these devils, I will abjure anything, everything, rather than leave her alone under such trial. Surely God would understand and pardon." "Courage, brother, courage. Lavalatte has but invented this tale to try your soul. He would have you become even as himself. Let us have done with this." The Spaniards were already advancing toward them, knives and swords in hand. Ribaut lifted his head, and in a sweet baritone voice began to sing the grandly moving melody of Martin Luther's hymn, walking bravely forward to meet his executioners as he did so. Debr6 wavered an instant, then catching the spirit of his leader, he too took up the melody which swelled now from many throats. " A safe stronghold our God is still, A trusty shield and weapon ; He'll help us clear from all the ill That hath us now o'ertaken. The ancient Prince of Hell Hath risen with purpose fell ; Strong mail of craft and power He weareth in this hour, On earth is not his fellow. The Sword of Justice 33 " By force of arms we nothing can Full soon are we down ridden ; But for us fights the proper man, Whom God himself hath bidden. Ask ye, Who is this man ? Christ Jesus is His name, The Lord Sabaoth's Son He, and no other one Shall conquer in the battle." Before the end of the second verse many of those voices were hushed forever ; the others, undaunted, sung on to the end, and fell with the unuttered note still in their throats. And here must I pause, for the warm, sicken- ing smell of blood is again heavy on the air. CHAPTER I IT was the month of December ; the hot mid- day sun held in its rays no hint of winter, though the weather was daily becoming more variable. The nights, with their raw chill, caused the condensation of all the warm vapors drawn up from the earth during the sunny hours, so that the dew drenched the country almost as a light rain-storm. In the " hum- mock " some of the trees had cast their leaves and showed only bare boughs, but these were few, and hardly caught the eye amidst the dense growth of glistening bamboo vines which ran from tree to tree, from bush to bush, bind- ing these spots of alien growth into an almost impassable tangle of green. The grass was still vigorous, and the late wild-flowers bloomed wherever a break in the dense pine forest allowed the sun to penetrate to the earth with its life-giving rays. The aspect of Fort Caroline had changed greatly since the night of storm more than two years ago, when, after its baptism of blood and water, the Fort changed its name with its owners and became San Mateo. 36 The Sword of Justice The breach in the rampart through which that wave of fierce cruelty flowed unchecked was mended now, as were the palisades and buildings. The busy life that thronged the narrow space, the thrifty look of the place, told of a people there to remain, not a few homesick wanderers, waiting the first opportunity to return to the land of their love. Where once bright laughter-loving French passed to their daily tasks, the darker, more sombre countenances of the Spanish were now seen. In a room in the quarters on the north side of the parade a man sits, drumming impatiently on the table. A platter, a drinking-goblet of pewter, and a knife arranged before him tell of an expected meal. The room is familiar to you ; you have seen a woman bending at this roughly built fireplace before. Yes, this very woman, though looking at her this is hard to believe. The brown hair is white now, snowy white, with no faintest fleck of color to mar its silvery glory. The cheeks have lost their soft round- ness and show two hollows, and a heavy line has been chiselled from the nose to the drooping corners of the mouth. Her eyes you do not care to meet their look a second time, for in their tragic depths lie the written record of all that she has suffered in these two years and more. The man too has changed somewhat since The Sword of Justice 37 you last saw him and heard him fling his evil gibes after the sturdily marching figure of Henri Debre, advancing bravely to meet unmerited death. The hair then so black has whitened noticeably over the temples, and the look of triumph in his eyes has given place to one so complex, that it is not easy to read its import. He looks baffled, tricked, flung back on him- self. It is evident that his easily stirred wrath had been lately moved, for a deep cloud hung over his brow, and his sombre eyes were fixed, with a look which seems compounded of love and hate, on the woman's every move, as she apa- thetically followed her task of preparing his noon- tide meal. He watched her swing the pot from the crane and turn its warm contents a savoury stew of game into the basin awaiting it. Having placed it before him on the table and brought a loaf from the cupboard, with a wave of her hand she intimated that his dinner waited. He glanced into her stern face, and for a moment the lines of his own softened. He reached his hand toward her, not ungently, a note of plead- ing in his voice when he spoke ; " Sit you also with me." How many times in those past two years had he uttered those brief words, some- times in pleading, often in command, always with the same result, a shake of the head from the woman who had stepped out of reach of his 38 The Sword of Justice possible touch. A fierce scowl brought his brows together until their heavy black lines seemed to meet over his nose, giving him a more sinister look than before. His companion had drawn a wooden stool to the other side of the room, near by an open window, and there sat, half turned from him, gazing aimlessly over the parade, where an unwonted stir had made the place busy since morning. Lavalatte pushed his stool from the table with a deep-mouthed oath. " God in heaven," he burst out furiously, " is it to be believed that such a frail creature as you could stand in my path for years and oppose yourself to me, and yet remain unbent, unbroken ! You have been my desire and my curse since my boyhood, Amalie de Rengard." He would not call her Debre, frail thing though she was ; he dared not use toward her the name of Lavalatte, which the people of the Fort gave to her in all innocence. " Then I tried to win you honestly as a man might : you passed me by for Henri Debre. I would not give you up. I have watched, waited, planned and hoped, even followed you to this wilderness. My hour came, I saw it, I grasped it, you were mine " his voice died away choked by the very impotence of his wrath. She scarcely stirred from her apathetic atti- tude, but her eyes turned to the man's anger- distorted face. " If it were not for the foul blot The Sword of Justice 39 of dishonor which you have laid on me, Philippe de Lavalatte, I had almost been moved to pity you at times," she answered in a voice from which all feeling had spent itself. " What is there in my poor being that hath so wrought on you? If I ever had beauty, God knows my tears have washed it away. I am no longer young. Why, why must you still cling to your mad folly? Let me go free, even now, Philippe, and I will strive in time to forgive you, to pray for your forgiveness from above." "Let you go, now?" he questioned fiercely. " Woman, I have never possessed you yet. I used to dream that if I could have your body to do my will with it " he broke off, then re- sumed after a moment, " I have had it these two years. It has been mine to abuse or to treat tenderly, yet in all this time have I not come anear you. You have stood apart from me aye, even from yourself and have mocked and tormented me as never before. There is some- thing else than your body that I cannot grasp, I know not what it is." " It is my soul, man. You have befouled my body, but the immortal within me has stood apart from you, from the contamination of your touch, and it remains clean before God. The soul, the hereafter, these exist not for you. This body, this hour, is all that you have allowed ; but the soul exists, doubt it as you may, the hereafter waits, disbelieve it as you will, and 4O The Sword of Justice while breath holds in this mortal part of me, you may keep my body in subjection, but you can- not touch my unconquerable soul." She had risen in speaking and stood before him, her apathy all gone, a light of defiance burning in her face and attitude. He took a few quick steps toward her and caught her hand roughly in his. "You dare say this, to brave me thus ? Have you no fear that I will strike you dead, as I am sometimes minded to do, and so put an end to all my torment." " Oh, if you only would ! Man ! man ! do it, and earn from me the first word of gratitude. How many times have I held your knife in my hand and looked on its keen-edged blade, knowing that one little thrust would prick the life from me; but when I raised it to do the deed, the voice from Sinai thundered in my ear, ' Thou shalt not kill,' and I dropped it, not daring." Lavalatte still held her hand and gazed at her, the baffled look deepening in his eyes, realizing as he did how completely she was beyond his touch, beyond fear, or love, or passion. " How can I love you so, hating you so? " he questioned aloud. Waiting no answer, he bent swiftly and placed a kiss on the woman's hand, and turning from the room left his dinner on the table to grow cold unheeded. The Sword of Justice 4 1 She had received his fleeting caress passively, but with a look which was like a blow, so full was it of expressed repulsion. This did not escape his quick eyes, and he carried the re- membrance with him as he stepped outside ; carried it away to chafe and fret him as he had chafed and fretted these two years, until his miserable mind seemed only a chaos of con- tending passions, none strong enough to master him and point to any decided course. Outside he took his stand moodily against one of the palmetto-tree trunks which served as supporting pillars for the covered passage that ran in front of the quarters. He gave little heed to the passing to and fro about him, or the presence on the parade of the company of men- at-arms who had accompanied the Adelantado to San Mateo from St. Augustine in the ship this morning. He made no motion to join any of the groups of laughing, jesting men, nor offered to take part in any of the several games of plum-stones which were going merrily for- ward. This new form of gambling, picked up from the Indians, had become a popular pas- time for the many idle hours spent in barracks. Lavalatte merely stood, staring moodily before him, waiting for nothing, interested in noth- ing. Under no circumstance was he given to mixing freely with the Spaniards in their pursuits or amusements, nor when he did so was he ever sure of a welcome. He found the words 42 The Sword of Justice " renegade " and " coward " as freely fitted to him by their lips as they had been by his French comrades. While he stood thus apart from all, interested in none, a light Indian canoe was shooting swiftly up the river under the sturdy strokes of the paddle in the hands of a young Indian. In the bow of the canoe sat a Franciscan, his black habit making a dark blot in the landscape. He wore his cowl drawn over his head in an effort to protect himself from the bright rays of the sun. Beads of perspiration stood thick over his almost womanishly gentle face. A palmetto leaf which he had cut and trimmed for the pur- pose served him as a fan, and he was plying it vigorously, for he was short of neck and of full habit, and the blood was apt to go easily to his head and remain there. With a few swift strokes the Indian beached the canoe in a spot under the bluff whence a path led upward, so steep that in places steps had been cut into the hard earth by which to ascend. The priest stepped from the canoe. Waiting only long enough to receive his part of the burden from the stern, he tucked his black habit through the cord at his waist, leaving his fat legs exposed to view, but freer to climb the steep path. The Indian shouldered the remain- ing part of the baggage and followed the toiling, puffing, figure up the narrow way. Once at The Sword of Justice 43 the top Father Augustine paused long enough to get a few deep breaths and mop his stream- ing face, before he resumed his burden and took his way toward the Fort gate. Since com- ing around the bend in the river his eyes, which had quickly spied the small ship anchored off the Fort, had turned constantly toward her, and it was curiosity that hurried his steps now as he advanced to the gate. " Ah, Manuel, what goes forward ? For what reason does the ship ride at anchor in the river?" the old fellow demanded of the soldier who swung open the gate in answer to his summons. "Tis the Adelantado, who comes to inspect the Fort and to leave his orders ere he sails for Spain, as he is shortly to do. But you, Father, how have you prospered in your undertaking? You have been this long time absent, and we were for fearing that those Indian devils had taken your scalp from you," answered the man, in a tone whose kindly raillery spoke his liking for the priest. " As to that, my son, the saints be praised, they cannot relieve me of it," he chuckled softly, rubbing his hand over his tonsured head. " Truth to say, I find them as little disposed to molest me, as to hear my preaching." The old fellow's laugh was quickly followed by a sigh. " Shall I tell you what their great chief Satouri- ona said to me but now, and, by the holy Vir- 44 The Sword of Justice gin, he has much reason in his arraignment. ' The white man's god has no strength ; he is as an old woman, since he cannot change the hearts of my white brothers. My white brother steals my corn, he murders my warriors, he takes my squaws. Go tell your god to speak to the hearts of his own people, and when they have listened, come then, and the Indian heart may be open to his words.' " He strove to look sternly on the young fellow, but the kindly lines of his face refused to lend themselves to a very rebuking gaze, and a whimsical sadness was about the only result. "Tortures and inquisition, Father," exclaimed the youth gayly ; " whatever gave you to think that I came to this land of misery to be a pat- tern of sainthood to my heathen brother. I came here to fight heretics and get gold. As for the first, I have done my share of that, and as to the other " he slapped his empty pockets for finish of his sentence and gave a slight shrug of the shoulders, as if to dismiss his disappointment as lightly as possible. " Oh, Manuel, Manuel," grumbled the old man sadly, moving slowly away, " how can I ever bring you to a conviction of your evil doing?" He continued to shake his head sor- rowfully even after he had passed on some distance, as if indeed he were punctuating his silent thought with his bobbing head. Not until he had almost stumbled against Lava- The Sword of Justice 45 latte's quiet figure did he seem to see or heed his direction. " Pardon, pardon, my son," he exclaimed, drawing back in time to avoid a collision ; then, as if a new train of thought had leaped sud- denly into his head, he demanded sharply, " Sieur de Lavalatte, had you ever a son? " The blood flashed hot into Philippe's face. " No," he answered. " And Madame, your wife, before the when the French occupied the Fort," he corrected himself quickly; "had she, perhaps, a brother much younger than herself? " "No; Madame is alone in this country save for myself," answered the Frenchman shortly. " Strange, strange," muttered the priest, shak- ing his head. " There is within the lodge of the chief Satouriona a lad of about twenty who wears a face so like to that of Madame, your wife, I doubted not that he must be her son. 'T is a marvellous resemblance. The Indians refuse to say whence he came, or to give him up, though I offered a goodly store of beads, mirrors, and gewgaws for his ransom. Well, I must not tarry, for I would see the Adelantado before he departs ; " and the old fellow shouldered his burden, dropped for a moment as he talked, and passed slowly on, followed, after a moment's hesitation and a hasty glance toward the open door of his room, by Lavalatte. 46 The Sword of Justice An hour later, when he returned to his quar- ters after having watched the going of the Adelantado, and held his small part in the ex- citement of firing the salute which boomed after the departing vessel, Lavalatte scanned the face of the woman who bore his name, trying, if pos- sible, to read in it any suspicion of the knowledge which had but lately come to him. Nothing seemed to have ruffled her apathetic calm, and he decided with a sigh of relief that Father Augustine's words had not reached her ears. He would not have felt so satisfied on this point had he seen her that night while he walked his turn as sentry on the rampart, standing before the priest's door with hand upraised to knock. When the old man answered the summons and faced his visitor, he stood before her with the same inward shrinking which he ever felt in her presence, strive as he might against it. She embodied for him so much that he had rather forget. He had not been at Fort Caro- line during the massacre, but he came from San Augustine so soon after, that enough traces remained of the bloody work to disgust his gentle heart, and often give him evil dreams at night. His was a kindly nature, and one having in it a larger sense of justice than those of his day usually possessed, a day when might was the only justification neces- sary for any act of blood or oppression. The Sword of Justice 47 To be sure, Madame de Lavalatte was not the only one of the French within the walls of San Mateo, but the sunny face of Eugenie Brissot, or the heavy, kindly one of Jean, her father, who went about his task of carpentering with little thought beyond his tools, these did not disquiet father Augustine as did Madame de Lavalatte. He shrunk from the sight of her tragic eyes, her face with its unnatural pallor. She came in time to be for him the materialized spirit of all those poor ghosts with which his superstitious fancy peopled the spot All this, however, but gave his bearing toward her the greater gentleness. He greeted her now with no hint of his inward feeling visible even to the most careful eye. " I give you welcome, daughter," he uttered kindly as he closed the door behind her. " In what can I serve you ? Is it that you have at length repented of your heresies and have come to crave the blessing of the holy Church?" A little gleam of hope came into his eyes. " Nay, Father, have done with fretting your soul over that which you deem my sinful heresy," she answered with a little impatient wave of her hand. " Not now, or ever, will the hour come when you will find me seeking the blessing of your religion." " Say not so, daughter, lest your stubborn pride bring a worse thing upon you than any 48 The Sword of Justice which hath already befallen. In that awful time through which you have passed, see you not in it a judgment from God because of your sinful unbelief? " " The worst that can, has befallen me, Father Augustine ; there is nothing left to fear now ; nor do I see aught in that awful time of which you speak, but the savage cruelty of man. Let that be ; I came not here to discuss such mat- ters, but rather to prefer a request of you, which I pray you, of your mercy, grant me without question. I heard you this day speak to Philippe de Lavalatte of a French boy who dwells among the Indians. Say no word of him to the commandant of the Fort, or indeed to any. I beseech you hear me in this." The old priest's face took on a look of per- plexed trouble. He answered after some hesi- tation, " I would I had known of your desire earlier, though I cannot compass your reason for so strange a request. As soon as I came, I laid the matter before the Adelantado, who hath given orders to the commandant to make a better offer of goods to the Indians in ex- change for the young man, and failing to get him in this peaceable manner, to send out a party to capture him by stealth and bring him hither. Indeed, Madame, your husband, the Sieur de Lavalatte himself, followed me into the Adelantado's presence and strongly urged this course, lest the youth, being a Huguenot, The Sword of Justice 49 corrupt these poor heathen by his vile here- sies. I would that you, my daughter, could bring your heart to see things aright, even as your lord, the Sieur de Lavalatte, hath done," concluded the old man sadly. The woman had put her hands before her face with a groan of terror. " I was wrong," she murmured almost inaudibly; " there is yet one thing to fear in this awful world." The priest looked at her with troubled, pitiful eyes ; he touched her gently on the arm. " If it is that you fear for the life of this youth, my daughter, you do wrongly. No harm is intended toward him. He is to be caught and kept until communication is held with the Adelantado, or, if he has then sailed for Spain, with his confessor, Mendoza." The woman shook off his hand, nor seemed to heed his words. She turned, and with her face still covered stumbled toward the door, feeling blindly for the latch. She was gone in a moment, leaving the priest staring after her in perplexed wonder. 50 The Sword of Justice CHAPTER II To the north of Fort San Mateo, not far distant from the river called by the Indians Tacata- courou, was situated the most important of the villages that dotted the territory ruled by the great chief Satouriona. About this village for a wide distance the country had been cleared, and the greenish brown of the dead corn-stalks and leaves, the blackened bean-pods on the already withered vines, the pumpkins lying like huge nuggets of gold scattered over the ground, told of thrift bringing forth its reward in abundant harvest. The village itself was enclosed within a stout palisade well calculated to offer resistance to Indian enemies. The huts grouped within were dome-shaped, and built of flexible saplings planted in the earth and bent together, meeting in a common centre, where they were firmly bound. A thick thatch of palmetto leaves covered these poles and con- stituted a roof, sun-proof and fairly water-tight. In the middle of the village an artificial mound of great size, and at least twenty feet in height, had been laboriously constructed, and on this mound, overlooking every hut in the village The Sword of Justice 5 1 and the fields beyond, was situated a lodge, built as the others, but far greater in size, and surrounded by several smaller huts. Within the great lodge, when the weather demanded it, a fire was kindled. Some of the smoke escaped through a hole left for this purpose directly above in the thatch. What did not so find vent diffused itself through the surrounding space, and cast a softening haze over the rude scene and the harsh faces grouped about the fire. Each member of this little community had a fixed seat and sleeping place allotted to him which another of the household by that un- written law which governs even in the lodge of a savage might not usurp, though it was often yielded with grace to a visitor. Behind each man's seat, against the wall, hung his bow and quiver, his flint-head tomahawk and deer robe, or any other of his simple belongings. Even the women had their allotted places here, where around the evening fire they were permitted to sit in silent self-effacement, listen- ing to the wild fables with which the Indian delights to exercise his imaginative mind, or the blood-stirring vaunts of past battles and victories. No fire burned in the lodge now, for noonday heat spread over the earth, and the sun took the world into a warm embrace. Neither were the braves of the chief's household gathered within. 52 The Sword of Justice Only Satouriona himself sat at the opening of the lodge and smoked. Despite his sitting posture, which doubled up his mighty limbs, the most casual glance revealed him to be a man of unus- ual height, even among this tribe of tall men. Knotty bunches of muscle took away from the perfect symmetry of his unclad limbs, but gave him a look of strength which more than com- pensated. He wore only the aziam, or loin cloth, falling, before and behind, from a belt on which depended tinkling bits of bright metal. Around the bronze column of his throat lay a necklace of curving bear claws. His broad chest was profusely tattooed with rude arabesques, among which the alligator, his totem, was easily distinguishable. He had the high cheek-bone of the Indian races, but his face, less broad and heavy, wore a look of unusual intelligence, and the dignity which comes of years of command lent it an almost refining touch. In his coarse, black hair lock two eagle feathers were stuck. His feet were shod with soft moccasins of tanned deer's hide, stained and ornamented across the toe and around the top. Just outside the lodge, leaning in dreamy idleness against it, sat another figure which at first glance you would also have taken to be an Indian. A second look, however, would have reversed this decision, for from no savage or silent race came that mouth, with its deeply The Sword of Justice 53 dented curve under the nose, its flexible lips reclaimed from awkward disuse by ancestors who had dwelt for centuries among their kind in happy companionship. The black hair lock worn as the Indian's, the high cheek-bone, the warm, red brown of the satin-smooth skin, burned by the sun and stained by the nut oil with which the whole body had been freely rubbed until it was soft and pliable and polished as a bronze statue, these things might have deceived you as to his race ; but the mouth, the large brown eyes, whose expression, though vacant, bespoke a higher intelligence, the straight, delicately marked eyebrows, and the nose, which, though not small, was finely modelled, these things spoke eloquently of a different civilization. Suddenly the youth outside withdrew his gaze from vacancy, and turning toward the chief, a perplexed wrinkle showing over his nose, he demanded in a tone of respectful questioning, " My father, have I always dwelt here in this lodge, or did I once live " he paused, his mind seemed to be groping after some broken thread of remembrance. It was some time before the Indian answered, and he hardly deigned to turn his eyes toward the young face that questioned him so eagerly. "Who can tell, Chepane? The Master of Breath, he only can say how often he has breathed life into any." " No, not that, my father," the youth was 54 The Sword of Justice beginning again, when the chief, who seemed to give no further heed, rose from his seat, and turning from the lodge strode off down the little well-worn path which led to the village below. Chepane's eyes followed him, irritation ming- ling now with their perplexity. Why was it that these moments of painful struggle came to him, and why were his simple questions always turned aside or cut off? He, Chepane, was not like Olotoraca or Athore; his very name Chepane was no name. It merely signified " a boy ; " and his life seemed such a little thing in looking back. He could remember but three Falling Leaf moons ; he had notched the record of them out there on the bark of the young pine-tree, and the last one was so lately cut that it still showed raw, like a green wound. His recollection of the first was very dim ; he seemed to see the full moon always shining through the lodge opening, and he was lying down, looking up at it; his head pained him, and figures passed before him in a haze, everything was dim, as when the light is just going from the evening sky. Athore, who was no taller or stronger than he, could remember many Falling Leaf moons without even a notch on the pine-tree to help him. He could remem- ber, besides, his first killing, even when little more than a papoose, also the first time his traps had caught, and many other things, while he, Chepane the perplexed look deepened to The Sword of Justice 55 one of almost pain. He moved his head wearily as if to rid himself of fretting thoughts. Overhead the sky curved to the earth like a deep blue bell, not a fleck of cloud to mar its rich color. The sun was slipping down the afternoon sky to its sudden setting. In the dis- tant field the Indian women toiled, gathering the harvest and bringing it to the village gran- ary. Chepane watched them. They, indeed, were the first cause of his struggling thoughts. The sunshine over the fields, the bending backs of these toiling women, never failed to arouse in him the effort to grasp a past which ever eluded him. While Chepane wearily strove to unravel the tangle in his brain, Satouriona's massive figure strode down the narrow pathway. Having reached the village below, he skirted the open square upon which the Indians gathered in times of festival or council, and turned his steps toward a palmetto hut which stood on the out- skirts of a group close under the palisade, and drawn a little apart from its neighbors, as if in an effort to seek solitude. At the entrance of this hut the chief bent his tall shoulders to accommodate them to the low opening, and, passing into the dim interior, seated himself without ceremony before a figure crouching in the centre of the lodge. It was hard to say with certainty if this were the shape 56 The Sword of Justice of man or ape ; it was, in fact, Helmacarpa, the great medicine-man of the tribe, venerated alike for his great age and wonderful wisdom. By interpretations and dreams, by severe fasting and absolute indifference to worldly reward or punishment, because he sought solitude and seldom went in public, this, with his uncanny appearance, had won for him not only a high position and influence in his own village, but throughout all the dependencies of Satouriona's territory. The old man sat now oblivious of his visitor, his eyes staring fixedly before him. His face was wizened by time, until it was but a mass of copper-colored wrinkles ; most of his teeth were gone, and his nose had lost all superfluous flesh and become merely a hawk-like beak. One eye had been gouged out in some past youthful encounter, and over this he wore a bit of tanned buckskin, blackened by time and dirt. How the loss of this eye had occurred none knew, since the memory of no man in the tribe reached back so far. Indeed they did not interest them- selves in the matter, but accepted without question Helmacarpa's own version of the story, " that the Master of Breath had torn it from its socket, and set in its place an invisible eye which saw things to come, as if they already were." Despite the extreme warmth of the sun, the old man was clad in his fringed deerskin leggins, reaching to the thigh and fastened to T lie Sword of Justice 57 the belt which held his aziam, and a shirt of the same skin covered his body. This costume the tribe never donned until the damp chill of winter drove them to it, and from it they quickly emerged so soon as the sun shone warm enough in the early spring. In spite of this covering the shrunken old figure shivered from time to time as if he already felt the coldness of the grave which yawned so near, awaiting him. Satouriona, squatting in front of the vacant eyes of the seer, waited with stolid patience until he was minded to give him notice. Great chief though he was, he had not the temerity to interrupt the " medicine " of Helmacarpa. It would have been counted an irreligious act, and one deserving of swift punishment from above. After a long time, in which the sun climbed down the heavens until it sent golden lances of light almost horizontally across the earth, and the evening sounds of home-seeking birds began to tell of the swift approach of night, the medi- cine-man stirred, moved his eyes, into which a look of intelligence had slowly crept, and for the first time noticed the waiting chief. Possibly it was to the bright rays of the sun shining directly through the lodge opening and into the one good eye of the old man, that Satouriona owed this attention at last; for it was not until Hel- macarpa had shifted his position ever so little to relieve himself of this annoyance that he addressed the silent warrior before him. 58 The Sword of Justice \ " Why does the father of my people seek me? " he asked, bending his one eye on the chief as if he would pierce him with his intense, con- centrated gaze. " War threatens not with his Indian brother or his white enemies." " Thou hast been a long time gone, Helma- carpa," replied the chief. It was his only protest against this hour of waiting, but he could not forego it. " I haste for no man," the old powwow replied, conscious superiority in his calm rebuke. " I come from far, even from over great waters. Why does the father of my people seek me ? " he demanded a second time. " I come to hear your words of wisdom con- cerning my white son Chepane ; " then, as Hel- macarpa answered nothing, but seemed rather to wait his further speech, he continued : " He hath sat at my lodge fire and dwelt with my people these many moons, even as my son Athore, or the son of my sister who succeeds me, Olotoraca. 1 I know not how many times the Big Harvest moon has risen over him, for the Master of Breath hath laid his finger on the eye of his mind, and he no longer sees the days behind him ; but by his size, his thews and sinews, I judge him a man grown. It is time he sought ' Puyafiktcha,' 2 and became as the 1 With the Indians, the succession is through the women. 2 This word for familiar or guardian spirit in Creek is the same for ghost, soul, spirit, in general. It properly means " our The Sword of Justice 59 other young braves. He shall dwell here, take a squaw from among my people, and be always as my son ; for never will I give him unto the black-hearted white men, though less than a moon ago one wearing a covering as black as his heart, and having already been scalped, offered me great store of goods to part with him." This was a tremendously long speech for the taciturn tongue of the chief, and he waited now as if all was said. " The father of my people is deceived : Chepane will not take a squaw from among our lodges, nor will he dwell here always as your son. He will take a squaw from among his own people, and will dwell with her until he goes beyond the big water and is lost to the eyes of his father. I have but this hour come from seeing the people of wooden vessels who are to bear him hence. The prows of their great canoes are even now turned toward this land, and many backs are bent to the paddles. 1 The big chief of the vessels, he comes to be the friend of the red man against these black-hearted ones who rob us of our stores and defile our squaws." spirit." The root is " figi," or " fiki," heart, a term which forms a large number of derivations in Creek and probably in all In- dian languages. Pu-yafiktcha also means hobgoblin, spectre, ghost, and soul, the y pointing to the fact that it is some- body's, or innate to human beings. Albert Gatchet, Bureau Am. Eth. 1 The vessels of Gourgues were of very light draught, and could go by oars in a calm. Charlevoix. 60 The Sword of Justice The face of Satouriona lighted with a fierce joy. " How soon comes he, Helmacarpa?" he demanded, his eyes flashing, his nostrils quiver- ing in his eagerness. " The Big Winter moon will pass, and his younger brother the Little Winter moon will wane also and mayhap even the Windy moon. Who can say but the spirit that rules the big waters, and makes the waves to stand on end, when any offend him?" The chief arose, the light of joy in his face at the promise of this longed-for help. "Then will I send Chepane forth to seek ' Puyafiktcha,' that he may take the war-path with the other braves when the time is ripe," he announced, with decision. " Send him," repeated the seer oracularly, " that his eyes may be open to know his enemy." The Sword of Justice 61 CHAPTER III FIVE days later, far from the lodge of Satou- riona, lying on a knoll where a break in the forest left a spot of open, Pierre watched with sinking heart and hungry stomach for the com- ing of " Puyafiktcha." Two dawns before he had waited in front of the lodge of his adopted father, his quiver across his shoulder, his bow in his left hand, a bag of parched corn hung from his belt, while in his right hand he bore a burn- ing fagot from the lodge of Helmacarpa the medicine-man, with which to light his own watch-fire. "Turn your face toward the south," com- manded the chief solemnly ; " go many steps, until the sun is high. Seek out a hill spot and light your watch-fire. There remain, talk with your heart, and wait the coming of ' Puyafiktcha.' Let not a grain of corn pass the door of your stomach, but wait, empty, even if the hunger-fox fastens his teeth in your entrails and tears them. Let the dawn come and go more times than one ere you eat, if you would be strong in battle and wise in council. The longer you wait the stronger you will be. When you have 62 The Sword of Justice seen and chosen, eat, and come again to the lodge of your father." Chepane had turned an obedient face south- ward, and sought out the hill spot where he now lay. All that first day he had watched faith- fully beside his blazing fire, until night fell. Dawn came again, and through the length of another day's warm sun he watched and waited ; and another night came and passed, and still no spirit appeared to offer him guardianship. He lacked the vivid imaginative mind of the Indian wherewith to convert the usual sights and sounds of the forest, the bright flutter of a bird's wing, the swift course of the lizard across his open space, into a visitation of spirits. The second dawn was breaking in grayness ; as the light came creeping over the earth he opened his sleep-locked eyes and flung from him the deerskin in which he had been rolled, damp with the night dew. The fox at his entrails was nibbling with sharp teeth, and even before he bestirred himself to waken his fire from glowing coals to a bright blaze, he turned a longing gaze toward the pile of parched corn, dew-wet and tempting, so close within his reach. He even stretched a hand toward it once, but drew it back. No, not yet. He could not, he would not, return to the lodge of his father and say that " Puyafiktcha " had not appeared to him to direct his way in life, to tell him he must be a warrior as were all in his father's lodge, or if The Sword of Justice 63 this was not to be, to say to him that he must content himself even as a humble arrow-maker like Chuli. Nothing ! Why, then, what remained to him but to dwell in the lodge of the squaws, and bend his back to plough and reap the field, even as they. His lips closed with firmer deter- mination at the thought, and he drew tighter the belt about his middle, so that the gnawing fox within would have a little less of space in which to torment him. After this he brought fresh fagots to the fire and coaxed the glowing coals into a blaze ; this done he flung himself on the earth again, keep- ing watchful eyes open lest any message or indication of the coming of his guardian escape him. Two days of fasting had spread a pallor over his face which showed even under the brownness of his skin, and his cheeks began to have gaunt little hollows in their roundness. His head felt light and giddy, as if it were disconnected from his body and swimming in space. It drooped lower and lower from very weariness, and softly in the gray morning he slept again. And while he slept, through the woods com- ing toward him so lightly she scarcely startled the wild things that frequent the forest was a woman wrapped about in a long gray cloak, the hood of which she had thrust back from her snowy hair. Out of the woods she passed into the open space where the fire burned and the 64 The Sword of Justice boy slept. There she stood over against him, gazing down upon him with eyes that refused to believe the miracle before her. A slight noise, or perhaps her intent gaze, caused the light sleeper to stir. His eyes unclose slowly, his scattered thoughts refuse to come quickly at his call. At sight of the silent, intent figure his heart leaped with joy. At last! Puyafiktcha! A great white spirit who stands above him ready to speak, to tell him his fate; a white spirit all wrapped about in the gray mist of the early dawn. " Pierre, my son." The cry smote his ear, echoed through the long unused corridors of his brain, and awakened within him the old struggle of remembering. He gazed on the white hands outstretched toward him, into the face, loving and implor- ing ; then from his heart to his brain leaped the answer, and thence to his lips. " Mother," he called, springing to meet her, and fell crashing at her feet, senseless. In an instant she was beside him, her wan face paler than before, a look of numbing fear in her sorrow-stricken eyes. All her struggle had been vain, worse than vain, since the shock of her presence had stricken life from her boy. Existence had held so many horrible realities for her that for an instant she accepted this last without question or effort to reverse it. Then putting forth her The Sword of Justice 65 little strength she managed to roll his body over so that his face was uppermost. She drew his head against her knee and began feverishly to chafe his hands and head. Still his eyes remain closed, nor did the blood come back to his brown cheek again to bid her hope. At length the spirit in her that would not be broken by the blows of fate asserted itself and demanded action. He was not dead ; he could not die ; he should not die now. No, not even if God himself willed it. She did not know in her frenzy of fear and pain if she but thought these words, or if she had screamed them aloud to heaven in shameless defiance. The forest seemed to re-echo with them, the silence shouted them to her soul. She looked for water, for something to bring it in. There was nothing. .She gathered the deer robe in a heap and thrust it under his head where her knee had been, then, forgetful of her own exhaustion, she sped away into the forest, where but a little while before she had crossed a spring from which a fresh, cool stream was running. She dipped the corner of her cloak into the water until the heavy cloth had absorbed a weight of moisture, and returned as quickly as possible to the side of the unconscious youth. After some moments of contact with the cold cloth on his head, Pierre unclosed his eyes and gazed into his mother's tender ones above him. At first he looked at her with the half dazed, S 66 The Sword of Justice wholly sweet look of an awakened child, then an unspeakable terror began to dawn in his face, to widen and deepen until it convulsed his features. " Mother, mother," he moaned, hiding his face against her skirts as he had done in frightened babyhood. She bent over him, gathered him in her arms, fondled him, calling him by every endearing term which her mother tongue could utter. She soothed him as if, indeed, he were a little child again, while terror and fear gripped her own heart. She could not comprehend the battle raging in his long unused brain. More than two years had dulled the memory of those awful scenes which were then and there existent to Pierre's newly awakened recollection. Great waves of thought surged over him, threatening to submerge and drown his regained consciousness. The warm smell of blood sickened in his nostrils, ghastly sights spread themselves before him. Fierce shouts of the slaughterers, mingled with the groans of dying victims, the cries for mercy from those under the knife. They were hiding behind the gate ; they were fleeing leaden-footed toward the forest; Eugenie's childish cry over her lacer- ated feet echoed freshly in his ears. The throb- bing pain swelled and grew larger with the rush of thought, and he felt himself drawing near the borders of nothingness again. He struggled back, he put forth all his feeble strength. He The Sword of Justice 67 seemed to be battling against an impalpable something which ever gave way before him and drew him on. He would not be cast over again into that blackness from which he had but now emerged. At length his struggle triumphed, the dark brink which he feared began to recede like the tide on the shore, leaving him weak but conquering. Notwithstanding the nearness of the events which poured through his mind in such wild confusion, he had a sense of the lapse of time, as a sleeper has who suddenly wakes from sound and dreamless slumber in the dead hours of the night. There have been no dreams by which to mark its passage, yet he feels its flight, though he could give but a poor guess as to its duration. So it was with Pierre. He struggled from his mother's detaining arms and faced her. " How long?" he ques- tioned briefly; as he did so his eyes strayed over his brown limbs and moccasined feet, his body unclad save for the belt and aziam. " More than two years," answered the woman, dimly realizing something of what was taking place in the mind of her son. Now at last he knew why he could but remember the three Falling Leaf moons notched on the bark of the pine-tree. He was Chepane, "a boy;" he dwelt in the lodge of Satouriona his father ; he hunted the forest ; he set his traps ; 68 The Sword of Justice he swam, and dived, and fished with his brother Athore ; he had come here to this spot to keep watch for the coming of " Puyafik- tcha." Now, now he knew, and his memory gave one final grasp and caught the thread after which it had groped so often and so fruit- lessly ; now he knew why the bending backs of the squaws in the sun-smitten fields ever stirred in him a sense of familiarity. He had seen the peasant women bend thus to their heavy tasks under the suns of far-away France. " I know, I know ! " he cried in triumph, and letting his head fall again on his mother's knee he cried and sobbed forth his relief, as one who, having been lost and astray in dark places, weeps for joy and thankfulness at again seeing the habita- tion of man. The Sword of Justice 69 CHAPTER IV THE dawn had glowed itself into noon before Pierre or his mother made any attempt to turn their steps toward the Indian village. Now that the strain had passed, and fears for her son's life and reason had given place to relief and joy at his sane presence, the hardships of the past two years, and the more immediate privations and fatigues of the past few days of wandering began to tell on the woman's frail strength. She who sped through the forest this morning in search of water, with a foot almost as fleet as a girl's, could now scarcely bear her- self upright, so great was the weakness which had fallen suddenly upon her. The order of nature was reversed, and it now became Pierre's turn to minister. His stomach was making loud demands for the food which he had denied it for forty-eight hours. After some little calmness had fallen upon him, and he felt himself gaining a firmer hold on the quickly shifting memories that still thronged over him, he was not long in hearing this demand nor in making preparation to answer it. He crushed some of the parched 70 The Sword of Justice corn between two stones and moistened it with water for his mother, hoping that she might eat and be strengthened against their journey. She could swallow but little of it, strive as she might; indeed her condition was such that food of any sort would have been distasteful. Pierre, however, crunched the crisp kernels like a hungry squirrel, and had the comfort after a time of feeling the sharp tooth of the gnaw- ing fox withdrawn from his entrails. He ate greedily, and finished his Spartan repast with a satisfying draught of spring water, after which he returned to where his fire burned and his mother waited, and made his simple preparations for starting toward the lodges of his adopted people. With his deer robe slung on his shoulder, his firm young arm about his mother's slight figure, they took their faltering way north- ward. Despite his supporting arm, which bore as much of her weight as possible, they had not gone twenty paces before the woman's will broke under the burden of her helpless body. She slipped from his supporting grasp, and settled in a hopeless heap on the soft bed of brown pine needles which carpeted the earth. " It is useless, my son, my limbs refuse to do my bidding." Pierre sat down beside her, grief, perplexity, and a new sense of responsibility making his face very grave and tender. The Sword of Justice 71 After a time, in which he saw that she did not gain fresh strength to go forward, he deemed it best to turn back to the camp-fire. If they must stay in the forest possibly a few days, they were better off there, for he could kill game and cook it and so keep them from starvation. If, however, the fire was lost to them, nothing remained for subsistence but roots. On these he might sustain himself, though they would serve but poorly to keep life in his mother's more delicate habitation. " Let us get back to our fire, mother," he said, rising from the ground at last, a ring of authority in his young voice. "You need not waste your poor strength, for I can bear you in my arms ; " and heeding not the protest which she was already uttering, Pierre bent his stal- wart shoulders and gathered her from the earth. He was strong; but a woman is not a feather weight, and his long fast had weakened him. The muscles on his bare back stood out like knotted withes, and his breath was coming in quick gasps when he reached the spot where for two days he had waited and watched. His next care was to make his charge as comfortable as possible. He flung his deer- skin on the ground and rolled her cloak for a pillow ; having placed her on these, he took his knife and went a little distance to the " hum- mock," where he cut a few light saplings. With these, and some palmetto leaves from the scrub 72 The Sword of Justice which abounded, he shortly contrived a bower over her which he thatched with the palmetto leaves, forming a slight shelter against the sun by day and the heavy dew of the night. Then bidding her have no fear, he penetrated yet farther in to the forest, where stood a clump of cedars, bearded with the drooping, gray Spanish moss which wrapped them as in a funeral pall. When he had gathered a large armful of this he retraced his steps to where the woman lay with closed eyes, past fear of solitude or con- cern of any earthly matter save rest for her spent body. With the soft moss he made for her a bed under her hut of boughs, and gently placed her on it. She opened her eyes to give him a weary, grateful smile, but beyond this re- mained as passive as an infant. He built the fire anew and again turned to the forest; this time he went as a hunter, bow in hand. In that wild land where game abounded he had not long to seek. He re- turned to his camp-fire before the sun was much lower, bearing three birds and a squirrel. His arrow had torn the birds badly, but they were good for food, and his young stomach was crying out for something stronger than parched corn. He found his mother still lying with closed eyes in a state half sleep, half unconsciousness. Gazing on her worn face with its aureole of The Sword of Justice 73 silver hair, he noted for the first time the ivory pallor, the gaunt hollows in the cheek, and there came to him the thought that she might not recover strength sufficient for her journey to the village of Satouriona; that death might be even now pressing near to claim her from him in this instant of his recovery of himself and of her. A cold fear settled on him at the thought. He would not believe it, God could not be so cruel, to add this bitter drop to all that had befallen him. So resolutely indeed did he turn his thoughts from this pos- sibility that in the end he succeeded in banish- ing his fears to the back of his mind. I doubt if he had been so successful in this had not another dread begun to take shape and grow until it drove away the first, usurping its place, the fear of pursuit from the Spanish Fort. When they missed Madame Debr6, would they not send out a searching-party for her? and toward what point would they turn their steps if not to the lodge of Satouriona, where they knew that he, Pierre, was, though accord- ing to his mother's account they did not know him to be her son? What defence could he make, alone, naked, and armed only with the weapons of a savage, against a party of Span- iards, locked up in steel corselet and morion, armed with pikes and arquebuses? He judged himself to be not more than eight miles distant from the Indian village, but to go and return 74 The Sword of Justice at the swiftest pace that he could make must necessitate leaving his mother for many hours alone, defenceless alike against man or beast. This, then, did not seem a possible solution of his difficulty. These thoughts and many more crowded his brain as he sat on the ground busily stripping the birds of their feathers, the squirrel of its skin, in preparation for the evening meal. Before the sun withdrew all its light these were sending out a warm savory odor on the evening air as they broiled before the coals, mounted on sharpened twigs which Pierre had deftly prepared. This primitive style of getting his food had grown very familiar to him in the past two years, during which time he had roamed the forest and fished the streams as his idle fancy dictated. He knew the haunts of fish and birds, the best method to catch or trap all things that crawled the earth, flew in the air, or fre- quented the water. The forest had for him the familiarity which a room in a house wears to a civilized person. To sleep out under the canopy of the star-dotted heavens seemed as safe and homelike to him as a comfortable bed does to you. When the birds before the fire had turned a golden brown and begun freely to drop their delicious juices on the coals, Pierre bore one to his mother's side, and she, arousing herself weakly, attempted to swallow a few mouthfuls. The Sword of Justice 75 It was weary work and went slowly, seeing which the boy resorted to coaxing. Tearing off a juicy brown leg, he bade her eat just that, and when she had feebly complied, thinking it the last effort she need make, he was ready with another bit and a coaxing word to help its dis- appearance. At length half a bird was con- sumed, and nature and grace alike rebelled. She put a protesting hand against his, which already held another morsel to her lips, and pushed it from her. " I cannot, dear, I cannot." Pierre desisted then, and having brought her in a leaf cup a draught of cold water, which she drank thirstily, he turned himself to his own supper and made short work of squirrel and birds. When the darkness fell he renewed his fire, and having covered his mother with her cloak, he wrapped himself in his deerskin and lay down beside her, to sleep, if possible. The fears which the daylight and his many tasks had kept at bay now swarmed over him, possessing him utterly. The forest noises mag- nified themselves almost beyond endurance. The soft foot of some wild creature creeping from its hole became the advancing step of his Spanish foes, and every crack of twig or branch kept him wakeful and alert. And if perchance these fears had momentary relief, then Death stalked grimly to his camp-fire and stood wait- ing to carry away his precious charge. Indeed, sometimes so soft was her breathing, so stirless 76 The Sword of Justice her body, he thought the destroyer had already borne her from him. At such times he would raise himself from his wrappings and put a tentative finger on her hand, to find it each time reassuringly warm; then he would go back to his old position, satisfied for a time. The moon came up at last, the waning shield of the Big Winter moon ; and its bright light brought comfort, for it lit the open space about him so that he might see his advancing enemy before he was quite upon him. But the moon brought forth the owls as well, and their melan- choly hooting sounded in his ears, in warning, in derision, in fiendish mockery, until he felt that he could bear the tension no longer ; then oblivion took him to a merciful embrace, and sleep stood guard against the army of fears that encompassed him. The moon waned, the owls gave over their melancholy prophecy of evil, and by and by the dawn broke, its grayness veiling all the earth in a soft haze. When this had lifted and the sunlight streamed over the world, once more the sleeping youth stirred, wakened, and leaped up conscious- stricken at his lapse from vigil. Finding no cause for disquiet, and his mother's soft eyes looking at him full of love, he heaved a sigh of thanksgiving, and having bent to press his lips to hers and indulge in a moment of loving talk, he set about the homely tasks that awaited him. The Sword of Justice 77 So another day began, which passed much as the preceding, a day in which Pierre roamed the forest for his food, returned to his camp-fire to prepare it, sat guard over his mother, and fought his unuttered fears. She spoke but little in all this time, being too weak for useless ex- penditure of strength ; but in her eyes there was slowly gathering a look heavy with meaning. She realized that soon she must speak, and at great length, and was husbanding her poor strength for the effort. A few questions had drawn from Pierre the little details of his life among the Indians. Beyond the fact of his father's death in the massacre of Ribaut and his men on Anastasia Island, she had told him as yet nothing of what had befallen her since their parting. As the day wore on even the ignorance and hopefulness of youth refused any longer to be- friend Pierre. He knew that Death stood by the camp-fire, was even then reaching forward, and with cold finger outstretched was drawing mysterious deep lines on the face of his victim, lines which were his written prediction of the decay so soon to wipe out all semblance of humanity and make her once beautiful body a thing from which to recoil. Pierre watched her furtively when he thought himself unobserved, wondering if any knowledge of the nearness of her end had come to her, or if the dread enemy would fall upon her in such 78 The Sword of Justice sudden and unexpected guise as to be yet more fearful in his onslaught. So while Death drew lines of decay on the woman's face, Life, with his hard, sharp graver, was busy at the boy's heart, scoring it deeply, each marking faintly reproducing itself on his face, which hourly seemed to take on a look of manhood and gravity. Held back as he had been by his loss of memory from the natural heritage of growth, he was now suddenly thrust into a forcing process which was straining every fibre of his nature. Darkness came again, and again Pierre wrapped himself in his deerskin and lay down beside his mother, but nearer this night, for the enemy pressed upon him, and if he would lie between her and the grim waiting presence he must lie close. He no longer started with fright at the natural sounds of the woods; his fear of the enemy that walks by noonday was swallowed up in terror for the shadow that comes by night. His ears are strained in fear lest that breath so soft and soundless should have ceased. The sense of relief which poured over him when the quiet figure stirred or changed position became, as the night wore on and his fears increased, almost physical pain. The moon rose ; again the owls took up their dreary antiphone, which beat on the boy's ears, making him fear to lose the sound of the soft The Sword of Justice 79 breathing on which his own life seemed now to depend. The moonlight, which had crept slowly toward them across the open space, now touched his feet. He watched it steal up and up, slowly up his body, until he lay submerged in its still, white radiance. " Pierre." At the first sound of the whispered word he sprang up, his bare body in the ghostly moon- light giving him a look of some ancient god of the forest but newly awakened from sylvan slumber. The woman stretched her feeble hand toward him and clasped his warm one. " I am dying, my son ; you must know it. I have known it these two days, and have waited to gain strength for those things which must be said to you before I go. I must leave you my boy my boy " He had no words for her, his emotion had caught him by the throat, and even breathing was hard. He only pressed the hand which he held hard within his own, laying his other brown palm over the white one between. After a little she began to speak, slowly, pausing often, her labored breathing causing her words to come painfully. Her hand still lingered in that of her boy, as if his young strength were a fountain from which her failing life drew a few drops. 8o The Sword of Justice " You know, my son, that I married against my father's will, and that my husband was the tutor of my brother Pierre, whose name you bear. You know also that my father, feeling that I had disgraced the name of Rengard, cast me out, and that I never saw his face again; but you do not know that at the time of my escape from home and my marriage, I had been be- trothed against my will to Philippe de Lavalatte. I tried to act honorably toward Philippe ; I told him of my love for Henri, and appealed to him to withdraw from the marriage, since I was powerless. He refused, and I fled to your father for refuge. " We lived in Paris after our marriage, and were happy until Philippe came ; then your father lost his position. He found another in time ; it too went, and for no reason that we could discover. All this time Lavalatte, who is my kinsman, distantly related through my mother, sought our home, professing ardent friendship for us, seeming to harbor no ill-feeling for the past. I did not believe him. Some instinct of the weak bade me beware, but Henri gave no heed to me in this, and refused to see Philippe's hand in our constant misfortunes. We sunk lower and lower, until starvation faced us. We were Huguenots, and the fierce fires of persecution were beginning to make life even harder yet, when our good Coligny undertook to establish a colony in a new land, where religion of whatsoever sort might The Sword of Justice 8 1 have freedom of speech and practice. Your father was amongst the first to offer for this ex- pedition, and, having family claims on Coligny, he was able to arrange for our going. I feared the voyage, the new country, everything, but I feared Lavalatte more. I cannot express to you the horror of this man's presence, the waiting look in his eyes whenever they rested upon me ; but every such glance was a threat, a menace that I could not forget. Even your father had grown to suspect him then, I think. Imagine the consternation that seized us both when we discovered the night before our sailing from Havre that he also had joined the expedition. Nor were our fears lessened when we learned that, in order to gain weight and influence with the party, Lavalatte had forsworn his religion and become a Huguenot. Happily he voy- aged on another ship of the fleet, and so for a little time his shadow was removed from my path. " Now I am come to the things which you remember well, my son: of our life in this hard land, of our privations and sickness, of our despair, facing starvation as we were when Loudonniere determined to return with the remnant of his colony to France. Then came Jean Ribaut with food and re-enforcements on the very day before we were to set sail." The woman was well-nigh exhausted, and it was plain to be seen that she was making heavy 6 82 The Sword of Justice draughts on the little stock of life which was left to her. " Rest now, my mother. Memory takes up the tale from there, and nothing remains to be told. Do not spend your little strength on the past, but rather love and bless me with your coun- sel for the future," pleaded the boy, gently fond- ling the hand which he held between his own, and realizing that even the warmth of his touch did not now suffice to drive away the cold chill which was creeping from the fingers down. " Nay, Pierre, I must speak on, this is but the beginning of what must be said. The worst yet remains. You do not know that Philippe de Lavalatte, who once before had lightly changed his faith to meet his convenience, when trapped with the rest of that shipwrecked multitude by the wily promise of Menendez, shifted his belief again to save his life. Your father died like a man with Philippe de Lavalatte's taunt ringing in his ears; he died believing us both dead. God of Hosts ! if it had but been so," exclaimed the woman in an impassioned voice. After a pause she resumed her more quiet tone, and took up her tale again, though it was evident she made a great effort to keep herself calm. " I was taken to San Augustine with some of the women and children who had been spared in the slaughter. When Lavalatte came into the camp with the Spanish soldiers and the few French who had been saved, no sooner did his The Sword of Justice 83 eyes rest on me than he stretched forth his hands, and taking me into a forcible embrace claimed me as his wife. I repulsed him. I denied it, I called God and the few French from the Fort to witness the untruth of it. He pre- tended grief and chagrin, and drew aside with one of the priests. He said that I refused to acknowledge him or do my duty as his wife because I believed in the new faith, and hated him because he had been led to see his errors. They believed him, or they had no care for what befell a French heretic. I was forced to go with him back to Fort Caroline, back even to the very quarters where I had dwelt with your father." The woman snatched her hand from her son's grasp to cover from her sight the look of widen- ing horror which was dawning in his eyes, as the awful import of her words made their way slowly to his brain. With a groan which seemed torn from the depths of his being, his head fell forward against his knees; he sat motionless, stricken. The man in him, awake and suffering, was writhing against this thing which had fallen on his name and his honor. A great and tre- mendous pity for his mother was later to possess him, but as yet he only felt this stain as it touched his life and his dead father's honor. Indeed I doubt, so inherent is the selfishness of the male animal, if he or any man could ever come to conceive all that this awful confession 84 The Sword of Justice meant to the white-souled woman who made it. Neither stirred or spoke while many slow minutes dragged by. At length Pierre raised himself, and in a voice whose very tone seemed changed said, " Hear me swear, my mother : as God gives me strength, I will wash out this foul dishonor to you in the blood of the man who put it upon you." She took his hand between her own and looked long into his eyes. " I, your mother, bid you slay this man, but I would not have you strike in the spirit of revenge, for the Lord hath said, ' Vengeance is mine, I will repay.' Kill him as you would a poisonous viper that struck at your heel, for while he lives there is no safety for you. As for me, not every drop of blood in his foul body would suffice to wipe out a hundredth part of the stain which lies on me. Oh, my son ! " she cried in agony, " I so/netimes fear that even the hereafter cannot cleanse me from this stain, not unless memory dies and I cease to be." Something of what she suffered began to dimly take shape in Pierre's mind now. He caught her to his heart and held her strained in a long, close embrace, until a paroxysm of coughing seized and wracked her. She pushed herself from him, gasping for air. Across her lips, trickling from her mouth, a thin red stream The Sword of Justice 85 had begun to flow. Helpless and dismayed he watched the red flood rise. He wiped the fast- flowing blood away with the corner of her cloak, but a fresh stain replaced it instantly. She was gasping, fighting, battling for her breath. He could hear the terrible rattle of her fast-filling lungs, then with a final gurgle and choke, a last contortion of the body, her head fell. Pierre laid her gently down, wiping away the blood which still flowed from her mouth. He gazed vacantly at the slight stream which had trickled across his bare leg and was slowly dry- ing, he watched the earth drink up the little red pool that had fallen on it, leaving only a brown stain. Still he sat wiping away the blood from the corner of the white mouth until the drops came slower and finally ceased. No need to sit so close now, oh child of earth ; your loving guard has proved of no avail, the destroyer has come between you and what you loved, and your house is left unto you desolate. 86 The Sword of Justice CHAPTER V THE sun was an hour high before Pierre aroused himself from the lethargy which had fallen over him. Through all this time he sat staring at the rill of dried blood that stained his bare leg, so motionless that he seemed carved in stone. At length he came back to the demands of life, and aroused himself to do the last sad duties for his dead. It was slow work even in this loose earth to break the ground with the rude instruments at his disposal, and slower yet to hollow out even a shallow grave when his hands were the only means of lifting the loosened dirt. The sun was descending the western sky before the narrow bed was ready for its occupant: over- head the buzzards, mysteriously scenting death, had begun to sail in majestic, yet ever narrowing circles. Seeing them, Pierre shuddered, and hurried fiercely on with his task. With the fixed idea that seems ever to possess the living, that the dead must sleep both soft and warm, he lined the bottom of the grave The Sword of Justice 87 with moss, and, wrapping the quiet form about in the long gray cloak, he lifted and laid it gently into its last earthly resting-place. He paused sometime before making any effort to fill in the grave. It seemed to him that he ought to do something, say some word of prayer, by some act make this burial different from the hasty putting away of a body which was purely animal. He strove to gather his dulled, scattered wits, but they would not come at his bidding; his thoughts being rather inclined to dwell on matters of the most trivial import. Still he knelt by the side of the open grave and struggled for words to express the feeling that surged through his being. At length, running beneath his consciousness at first there began to rise and swell a strain which moved with the grand swing of a triumphal march. It grew and grew until his conscious thought grasped, held, and fitted to it the words which had first been sung over his cradle, and later had woven themselves through all his religious experience. He got to his feet then, and, standing with head erect and eyes which looked back on scenes past, he raised his young voice on the still, evening air : " A safe stronghold our God is still, A trusty shield and weapon ; He '11 help us clear from all the ill That hath us now o'ertaken." 88 The Sword of Jiistice The startled birds fluttered in fright at the unwonted sound in the quiet forest, and the shy creeping things sought cover and waited. Pierre sung to the end, little knowing that these very words, this very strain, echoed from the lips of his father in the last moment of life. When the hymn was ended he kneeled again and began to shovel in the earth with his bare hands. As the first clod fell dully on the silent form, he gave a little cry as of pain, and reaching into the grave, gathered it carefully away, and sat irresolute and suffering. It was not until one of the slow-sailing, dark-winged birds made a swooping downward circle as if to alight that he went again at his task, which he did now in hot haste, lest the body so sacred to him suffer desecration from the sharp beaks of the carrion birds. It was over; nothing remained to be done, for he had even fetched stones and covered the loose earth to protect it from digging paws. Though all was finished, he could not nerve him- self to turn away and leave her. He thought she must feel lonely and deserted ; he could not rid himself of the idea that she still knew what passed about her ; so when the watching moon came to her late rising, it beheld him again stretched on the earth, face down, as near as might be to the little mound of his own making. In the grayness of the early dawn he rose The Sword of Justice 89 from his vigil, and turned his face to the north. The sun was two hours high when he entered the lodge-opening of Satouriona. A light of welcome, of relief, leaped into the old chiefs eyes when they rested on the gaunt face and stalwart figure of Chepane, who strode into the lodge, head erect. The new lines of gravity which sorrow and shame had wrought on his face so changed him, that he looked full five years older than a few days since, when he stood, lighted fagot in hand, ready to set out on his journey. Without a word he dropped his deerskin from his shoulder, and hung his bow and quiver in its accustomed place behind his seat. " You have talked long with your heart, my son," said the old chief, gazing upon him, trying to understand the subtle changes in his face. Pierre answered, coming first to stand straight and erect before the seated chief. " I have done even as my father bade me ; I have seen ' Puyafiktcha." I, even I also, will be a warrior, as all my father's people are," he said, his voice ringing with a new, deep manliness. 90 The Sword of Justice CHAPTER VI IT was evening; within the lodge of Satouriona the fire burned a leaping blaze. It flashed on the dark faces of those seated around, and threw magnified and distorted shadows against the thatch wall. On the far side of the light the squaws sat, silent and stolid, the children scuff- ling and tumbling amongst them. Except for the brightly curious eyes of the women, turned now to this, now to that one, fastened eagerly on the lips of whoever spoke, shifting quickly if another caught up the fallen speech, they might have been so many grotesque idols carved in stone and dressed in tanned deer's hide. Even the men were clad in skins now, for a sudden change in the weather had sent them shivering into their winter tribal dress. The long leather stocking or leggin was fringed down the side and fastened to the belt which held the aziam, the body was covered with a loose shirt of the same material, fringed on the sleeves and ornamented across the breast with rude designs in crude heavy-colored dyes. The women wore the leggin extending only to the The Sword of Justice 91 knee, where it was met by a scant skirt of deer's hide. A loose, shapeless sacque of the same covered the upper part of the body, which in summer remained perfectly nude. The fragrant incense of many burning pipes, mingled with the thin pennons of bluish smoke, which, failing to rise to the smoke-hole, floated about the lodge, throwing a softening haze over the rude picture, and by contrast giving greater value to those figures in the foreground and under the more direct glow of the leaping flames. Outside the wind rustled the pal- metto thatch, and from time to time a swirl of rain made a ghostly patter among the well- dried, crackling leaves. Within, all eyes were fixed on the chief, for he was just beginning the recital of one of those Indian legends, familiar by repetition to all save the youngest members of the gathering, enjoyed none the less on this account by their elders. Satouriona stared fixedly at the fire, speaking deliberately, pausing often for long satisfying puffs of the pipe, which hovered at all times not far from his lips. He had the evident enjoyment of his tale, which is the first requi- site of a good story-teller. " I speak to you, my sons, of a time when the earth was young, so young that the evil heart of man had not revealed itself, and the god of the great waters, the god of the air, the god of the trees, the god of the stones, and 92 The Sword of Justice all the gods which people the earth and dwell below it, feared not, as now they do, to show themselves, but walked in the light of day and stretched forth their hands to help the labor of man or bless him in the hunt. Yet while they bore no enmity toward man, their anger sometimes burned against each other, and they even did deeds of evil, so that great sorrow sometimes fell on the dwellers upon earth. Hiawatha was a god who thought good thoughts toward man ; he sent plenty in the fields, and showers and sun to make the earth conceive and bear fruit. This god fell under the anger of the great serpent who ruled over all the waters near and far. Now in the land where the serpent lived, when the Big Winter moon shone, the water grew hard, even as a rock, so that a man might walk upon it. In conse- quence of his anger toward Hiawatha the ser- pent god blew a warm breath on the rock-water during the cold weather, and because of this warm breath from his great fiery throat the rock-water rotted under the fleeing feet of Chibiabos, the grandson of Hiawatha, and he fell quickly into the depths and they closed over him. " Then was the anger of Hiawatha kindled against the serpent god, and it burned hotter and hotter as the cold weather passed and the Master of Breath turned his blazing eyes on the earth and warmed it until it turned green, and The Sword of Justice 93 the ground animals forsook their holes, the beaver began to build, and the Indian came from his winter lodge and took the forest trail in search of game. Now when the eyes of the Master of Breath were full opened and the earth was warmest, Hiawatha sought out a kingfisher who dwelt on the shore of the great water which was the country of the serpent god. After holding with the kingfisher a big talk, he learned of him where the wicked ser- pent god and all his warriors came when the sun was warmest, to lie in a shallow pool and bask in the heat. Near this spot did Hiawa- tha take up his waiting, and that his enemy might not know him, he became even as a tree which the wind god had broken in his hands and left standing without a branch to cover its head. " Soon from out of the deep the serpent god came with his warriors and his squaws, and they lashed up the water with their tails and sported in delight, for they were soon to be gathered into the warm arms of the Master of Breath and have life renewed within them. " Hiawatha waited impatiently until the ser- pent god and all his people had coiled them- selves in the sand and lay deep in sleep, then he bent his bow for a mighty shot, and sped a swift arrow into his enemy's eye. The ser- pent god fled toward the deep, screaming loudly, and so great was the sound of his 94 The Sword of Justice cry that even the warriors of the earth shook with fear and waited for the coming of the awful doom of which it was the omen. As the serpent god fled, in revenge for his pain he lashed the water with his tail and caused it to flow back until it began to cover the earth. It came at first to the top of the moccasin, then it crept swiftly to the knee, to the middle, and still it flowed, until it mounted to the shoulders, and was as high as the head of the tallest brave. It followed swiftly on the fleeing feet of Hiawatha, who sought a mountain and climbed its side. But swiftly as he climbed, the water followed just behind and kissed his heel, until at length all the world was water, and only the scalp-lock of the mountain stood above, and from it, like an eagle's plume, grew a tall tree. This tree did Hiawatha climb as quickly as might be, but as swift as his heels rose in the air the devouring flood came after. He then com- manded the tree to stretch itself, and it heard his voice and obeyed, and shot into the air; but the water reached out as quickly to his heel and touched it coldly. Again he com- manded the tree to stretch itself up, and again its ears were open and it obeyed ; but the flood came again to his heel, and when he called a third time to the tree, its ears were so deep down below the water it heard not, and so remained as it was, nor grew any taller. The Sword of Justice 95 " The water came higher and higher until it reached even to Hiawatha's neck, and only his head was above the flood. About him, swim- ming near, were water-fowls, beside the beaver, the otter, the mink, and the muskrat. These were his friends and brothers, and they heeded his commands when he spoke words to them. He first bade the loon dive and bring up to him a little bit of earth ; and the loon obeyed, but soon floated up to the surface, dead, for the water was too deep for it. He then sent in turn the beaver, the otter, and the mink, but they all came back to him without having found bottom. At last he sent the muskrat, ' For your ancestors,' said he, ' were ever known for grasping the muddy bottoms of pools in their claws.' And so the muskrat dove down, down, down, until at last he touched the top of a high mountain and grasped a bit of earth in his claws. When he came up to the surface again Hiawatha seized it from him gladly, for the water flowed even with his mouth now. He raised his hand which held the bit of earth no bigger than a grain of corn, and he held it up to where the eye of the Master of Breath could rest on it, and at once, when it became warm, it began to grow, and grow, until it covered his hand ; and spread, and spread, until it was as large as a canoe floating on the water. Still it grew until the beaver, the otter, the mink, and the muskrat climbed upon it and rested themselves g6 The Sword of Justice from their swimming. And now it became even as a little island, and Hiawatha grasped its side, and letting go his hold on the tree he climbed upon it, and there rested until it grew into a great island having forests and game in abundance." " Tell us, my father, from whence came the warriors of our tribe if all were drowned when the waters went over the earth," Olotoraca asked, well knowing the answer, but desirous of drawing the chief on to further story-telling. Seeming to give no heed to the speaker, the chief drew several long whiffs from his pipe and stared into the leaping flames. Then removing his pipe, he continued : " When the great island had grown into a great land, it came to have, after many days, a hole in its centre which was wide at the mouth, but of its depth no one can say. From out of this grew a vine, whose roots were deep down in the blackness, but whose branches stretched tip to the light. On this vine the first warrior and his squaw climbed up to the earth. They were the beginning of all people of the red race." Pierre, who had listened eagerly to this recital, hearing it as he did for the first time, stirred in his seat with that impatience which one feels on hearing a wrong version of a tale of which one knows the right. Before the return of his memory he had been too thoroughly Indian to vouchsafe any contradiction of his elders, even The Sword of Justice 97 if he knew a truth which they did not Now, however, the European feeling of superiority asserted itself, and scarcely pausing to think how utterly he violated the unwritten laws of these savage people, he raised his voice in objection. "Thy tale, my father, is in some things wrong. There was truly a great water which covered the earth, I know. I have read of it in a book where it is set down in the sign writing of my people. But before the great water came, one man more wise than all others built a monstrous canoe into which he took two of all things living. Lastly went in the man and his sons, and the squaws of his sons, and these floated many days in the canoe on the breast of the flood, until the water subsided and dry land came out of it again." Before he had finished speaking, Pierre could not but be aware of the look of amazement, amounting almost to consternation, on the face of every one in the group. It set him stammer- ing awkwardly over his last sentences, but he held on bravely to the end, while the slow blood mounted to his face and began to paint it crimson with mortification. Satouriona laid aside his pipe, and after one guttural grunt of disgust fastened his com- manding eyes on the boy's face and held them there without speaking, until a long minute had elapsed, and Pierre felt that the scrutiny was becoming unbearable. 7 98 The Sword of Justice " Thy name, Chepane, must even now know sudden change," the chief announced at length, with a fine note of sarcasm in his voice which withered the boy's last bit of bravado. " Doubt- less my white son would have us call him ' Poohleki/ our father, and listen to the words of wisdom which he has gathered in his long days upon earth. Or is it only ' Tvcci,' 1 the jay bird, who chatters in the forest, and not 'our father,' who teaches us? Pierre's head drooped under these stinging words until his attitude would have disarmed a severer per- son than the chief. The warrior continued his speech notwithstanding, but his tone was gentler and the sarcastic note had died out. " Since the Master of Breath hath laid his finger a second time on the eye of thy mind, and opened it once more to the seeing of those things which have gone before, thou hast borne thyself as better becomes a warrior of many scalps than one who has never yet had reason to strike the war-post. Lower thy pride, my son, lest ill befall," counselled Satouriona ; then resuming his pipe he lit it once more at the fire and smoked on unheeding, while Athore, whose seat was next to Pierre's, by dumb show evinced toward his neighbor a few signs of unholy joy at what he deemed a just rebuke. For since his return from seeking ' Puyafiktcha,' Pierre had seemed changed and older. He often cor- 1 The v is pronounced like a short u. The Sword of Justice 99 rected Athore about things outside their little life in a tone of no uncertain authority. He told tales, too, of great lodges built of stone which contained more things in them than Athore believed the whole world held. Satouriona too had noticed a difference in the boy, in respect to the years that he seemed suddenly to have gained, and to a certain dom- inant something in his bearing, which, while not lacking in respect toward his elders, seemed yet to assert an unconscious superiority. He noticed also that the young man was rest- less, often moody, and he argued rightly that the war spirit was astir within him. On the day after his return from his vigil, Pierre had mounted in his hair lock the split eagle's feather, which is the sign that the wearer has received scars from the hand of his enemy. Once mounted on the head of a warrior it becomes the sign and seal set to his sworn determination to avenge the blow. When the chief questioned him of his right to wear this, he maintained it stoutly, saying that the blow had fallen in the day to which his eyes were but now reopened. That night, when slumber visited all within the lodge, it found Pierre wakeful and restless. Certain half-formed resolutions which had lurked in his mind these many days were crystallizing rapidly, and action was becoming a necessity. ioo The Sword of Justice CHAPTER VII IT was an afternoon in January. The sun was warm, and the inshore breeze cooled with- out chilling you. The sky was a deep blue unflecked by clouds, and the air so balmy it sent through all one's being that pleasant lassi- tude which does not carry with it weakness, but only a relaxation of the nervous tension of the body. Across the narrow parade-ground of San Mateo a young girl was passing. A certain daintiness both as to the arrangement of her dress and the delicate contours of her face and figure threw her out of harmony with her rude surroundings. The warm tones of her delicate skin had withstood the sun's rays, refusing to take on the leathery brownness which the climate of Florida is so likely to induce. Her hair, of a shining blue blackness, was gathered back from, and arched itself about, a low broad forehead whose rounded outline completed the perfect oval of her face. The mouth, wide and merry, was quick to mirror every breath of feeling that ruffled the surface of her girlish thought ; the eyes, the chief beauty of her face, were large and gray, surrounded by a fringe of black lashes The Sword of Justice 101 and overarched by delicately pencilled black brows. Her dress, though of coarse blue worsted stuff, yet had a trimness of cut about the short skirt which gave it an air of daintiness. Above the snugly fitting bodice her chemisette gleamed spotlessly white, and her stiff collar stood up- right behind her head in the snowy pride of fine laundry work. A pair of well-shaped feet found stiff covering in the wooden sabots whose cheerful click, clack kept one aware of her pretty presence whenever she was in the house. Now, however, the little wooden shoes were singing a duller tune, as the girl, bareheaded and smiling, glad in the gladness of youth and health, crossed the parade and made her way toward the sentry who walked his narrow beat before the Fort gate. He paused when she took her stand fairly in his path, and grounding the butt of his halberd he allowed the admiration which every soldier in the fort accorded the one pretty unattached woman within its walls, to show in his eyes. She made a little gesture of command toward the gate, and waited as one who is well used to prompt obedience. Despite her youth, she was already too much a woman not to have realized the weapons which youth and beauty had thrust into her hands; yet she was also too much child to dream of the dangers with which these same charms encompassed her. Deep down in IO2 The Sword of Justice her heart she held for these Spaniards a feeling compounded of fear, hatred, and contempt, for she had not forgotten that day of blood-drenched horror, the memory of which sometimes came stalking to her pillow in nightmare terrors. But she was young, merry, and soft of heart. She could not always be frowning and bearing ill-feeling. Where all smiled upon her, and her own smile was such a ready thing, it is little wonder that she reflected some of the kindliness, despite the feeling hidden away in her heart. She had passed through one awful baptism of blood; all unknowing she stood now not far from another, yet like a young bird in the forest she fluttered and sung, swung herself happily amongst the green boughs and forgot. Healthy youth has a short memory for injuries which have not fallen directly upon itself. "What would the Senorita have of me," questioned the soldier, smiling down on her, wondering the while to whom this dainty mor- sel of womanhood was to fall, and sighing to think that whoever the lucky fellow might be, he surely would not be of the common soldiery like himself. " I desire you to open the gate, and quickly, stupid one," answered the girl in rather halting Spanish. The soldier shook his head, smiling more broadly to see the petulant look deepen on her childish face at his refusal. The Sword of Justice 103 "Nay, nay, pretty one, I have my orders. No birds allowed out of the cage these days, lest a wicked waiting cat devour them." " Have done with such fooling, Manuel, and unbar the gate for me, else I shall be moved to report your churlish denial to Captain Perez," commanded Eugenie Brissot, emphasizing her words by a fierce little stamp of the wooden sabot. "Now the saints be my witness, it is not Manuel who denies you," returned the soldier, speaking more gravely now, lest this tiny fire- brand burn him up with her angry eyes. " T is the captain himself who hath issued this order to me." " That I be not allowed to pass the gate? " she demanded with flashing eyes. "That none of the women within the Fort be allowed to pass the gate," amended Man- uel. " Since the disappearance of the French- woman " he was beginning, when with a derisive laugh the girl broke in upon his speech. " Donkey, think you that a lion or a bear has devoured poor Madame, and now lies in wait for others ? " My faith ! it is no great matter for one with a little wit in his head to say where Madame de Lavalatte is." "But where, where?" ejaculated the man, curiosity getting the better of him at once. "Nay, not so fast, open the gate first, and then maybe I'll open your stupid eyes after- 1 04 The Sword of Justice ward," bargained Eugenie, looking at him with her head on one side like a saucy bird. "That I cannot," answered the man firmly, then seeing her wrath about to burst over him in good earnest, he hastily diverted the torrent into another channel. " There passes Captain Perez himself. Ask him, and if he bids me, I '11 open for you," and he pointed to where a young Spaniard clad in trunk-hose and doublet of deep brown slashed with crimson, his legs encased in long leggins of soft tanned leather, crossed the parade-ground and came toward them. A drooping black beaver shadowed the handsome but dissipated face, which showed little if any change since last we saw it. Eug6nie darted toward him like a swallow and planted herself defiantly in his path. "What is this that the stupid donkey, Manuel, tells me, Senor Captain? Is it then true that I may no longer go out into the open ? Am I then a prisoner?" she demanded, for a second time bringing down the little sabot as if she expected it to strike terror to his soul. The Spaniard bowed gravely, " Nay, Sefiorita, it is I who am prisoner, and you who are jailer," he protested, and in his eyes burned a look which gave his words a deeper color of truth than the exaggerated Spanish compliment usually holds. "But why, why, why?" exclaimed the petu- lant child, ignoring the suave speech and re- fusing to be placated by the look. The Sword of Justice 105 " Since the wife of Senor de Lavalatte dis- appeared " he was beginning, even as Manuel had done, when again, as in the case of the sentry, Eugenie broke into high, mocking laughter. " So, you are for thinking that the wild animals have devoured Madame? Poof!" she blew a little derisive sound from between her closed lips. " I know another thing than that. I know where Madame is. She has escaped and gone to seek her son. Oh, but yes, yes ; " seeing the look of surprise and denial in the dark face above her, she plunged on childishly, reckless of consequence," I know, I have heard it mouthed about that Pere Augustine hath dis- covered a French youth in the Indian village, and that he sought to buy him, but the Indians refused to part with him though he tempted them with a great store of things such as they love. And I have heard beside that this same youth bears a wondrous likeness to Madame, which is passing strange, since she hath no son or brother." " But, but," the man began to stammer, taken aback by the girl's calm assumption of knowl- edge, " this that you say cannot be ; we searched the woods for many days, and had the woman been there, striving to get to the Indian village, we had quickly tracked her down. Be- side this, the Senor de Lavalatte, he says they have no son ; " he finished his argument with io6 The Sword of Justice a triumphant air as if to demolish the girl's as- surance at a blow. "Ah! ha! ha!" laughed Eugenie again, giving her chin a wicked little hitch, which expressed both a satisfaction in her own supe- rior wisdom and a serious doubt of the veracity of the person in question. " Since Sieur de Lavalatte conveniently abjured his faith, casting it aside as if it were a worn cloak, and slipping on another more suited to the change of wind, he hath uttered more things than his ' Aves ' and ' Paternosters,' and I have my warrant for saying it, Madame did have a son, although he was no son of Sieur de Lavalatte's. She has gone to seek her boy, I know, and I trust the good heart of God that she has found him ere this," concluded the girl more gravely. The Spaniard stood for a moment gazing at her in speechless amazement, but when he attempted to push the question further he was met by stubborn evasion on the part of the girl, who was beginning to fear that she had talked more than she ought. "And what assurance have I that if I bid Manuel open the gate that you will not also make your escape and be gone to return no more," questioned Perez, resuming the matter in hand and striving to back up his refusal with so good an argument. Eugenie allowed a look of contemptuous wonder to ruffle for a moment the surface of The Sword of Justice 107 her eyes, and mirror itself on her face like a light breeze passing over water. It curled her lips in an adorable attempt to express her meas- ureless amusement at his absurd suggestion. "Madame escaped to join her son, and you think that I," she tapped her breast several times with her extended forefinger, " that I, Eugenie Brissot, would run away and leave my old father here behind me. And to what pur- pose, Senor, would I run? That I might become the squaw of some feathered chief? In faith ! I had even rather wed with a Spaniard than that." She delivered this little fleer with a quick upward and downward sweep of her gray eyes, which was like an exclamation-point under which she set a dimple for finish. Then her soft little fingers, beseeching, sought the sleeve of his dark doublet. " Ah, do, Senor Captain, let me out ; I pine to death to be held within close walls for such a long time." Possibly the sarcastic suggestion of wedding with a Spaniard, but more probably the wheed- ling tone of the sweet voice and the touch of those five soft fingers on his arm, undid the stern determination of the young man. " If I let you go will you surely return, and soon?" he questioned, closing his brown palm over, and detaining the white fingers. "Stupid one, yes," she cried, again putting that swift bewildering exclamation-point at the end of her words. io8 The Sword of Justice He held her hand and walked beside her to the gate. A wave of the hand told Manuel that his superior officer had not been cast in as firm a mould as the subaltern, and the soldier turned quickly to conceal the smile which overspread his face, while he busied himself undoing the lumbering fastenings of the gate. As the bar shot back, and the heavy timber swung slowly open, the girl whisked through the aperture and sped away without a backward glance of thanks. " Remember your word not to tarry long, else I will come myself to search for you," called the young officer after her, which admo- nition only enlisted a toss of the head from the little figure skimming rapidly over the ground. The sentry closed the gate and barred it again. " 'T is good to see the flash of a kirtle in this well-nigh womanless land, even if it be but in the wake of a tricksome French body," said the man, looking toward his superior, an evi- dent desire for conversation possessing him. The officer frowned slightly, and without answer turned on his heel and departed. Man- uel gazed after him, anger and contempt fight- ing in his look. " He gives himself great airs since he became captain," he muttered angrily to himself. As for Eugenie, fluttering away like an uncaged bird toward the path which led over the bluff to the river, never had freedom seemed so sweet as at this moment when she had been The Sword of Justice 109 obliged to make some small struggle for it. She smiled to think what a great matter they had made over so small a thing, for she was surely putting her fought-for liberty to very simple use. She reached the top of the steep bluff path and picked her way slowly down it until she came to the water's edge. Here she found for herself a seat on the narrow strip of sandy beach which extended for a short distance under the bluff, and was only available as a stopping-place when the tide was low. Before her lay the broad and slowly moving surface of the St. John's River, all of its depths turned to deepest blue from the perfect sky overarching it. Just above and behind the spot where the girl sat the bluff rose from the river in unbroken height for about twenty-five feet. Neither bush nor root found abiding place on its steep side, and although at its foot the narrow beach lay uncovered at low tide, still its sheer declivity offered no chance even for the most agile climber. Along the top of this extended the palisade that formed the river defence of the Fort, which was triangular in shape, having a bastion at each angle. The two sides which gave on the land were guarded by a deep ditch and a rampart built of fascines and covered with sod. It was a well-selected site, and the original Fort had been constructed with care by its French builders, while in the Span- no The Sword of Justice ish hands it had received further strengthening and necessary repairs, so that it now offered a fair defence against even better-armed foes than the naked savages who seemed its only enemies. All this, however, was a sight too familiar to the young French girl to hold for her any inter- est. The broad, blue river, with its now and then tumbling dolphins at their awkward frolic, the soft lip, lap of the water against the sides of the canoes moored near by, these attracted her attention far more, and she enjoyed them for a time quiescently, before she drew her knitting from her pocket and began a busy clicking with her bone needles. Her thoughts were not a little troubled to-day, for she had but lately had one of her periodical exhortations from the mouth of Pere Augustine. He was a kind old man, and the girl, with the instinct of her sex, felt that he was more to be trusted than the others in the Fort. Doubtless, too, it was even as he said, and he only desired her welfare ; which fact caused him to tell her such distressing things. Pere Augustine had a dramatic tongue, and his pictures of the hell fire waiting to con- sume heretics were painted in colors so vivid that they were pretty certain to send poor Eugenie in a paroxysm of tears to her father's arms for comfort. This she always found, for old Brissot's faith was not of the uncertain sort, and though they had taken from him his Bible, his most cherished possession, they could not The Sword of Justice 1 1 1 wipe out from his mind the words of hope and peace which long reading had stored there. Beside this he was no mean theologian for a simple man, and with logic, unanswerable to the girl's mind, he confuted the words of the worthy priest, and showed her that if any burning was to be, it would be for those who followed the Scarlet Woman and were the supporters of Antichrist. And yet she sometimes wondered, was won- dering even then, if by chance there might not be something in the views of Pere Augustine. She shuddered at the thought, and her busy mind began to light the fire for her own burn- ing. She saw herself about to be thrust into those unquenchable flames, she felt already the burning thirst in her parched throat, and she went through all the torture of the damned. After a little she so worked upon herself that her knitting dropped, and she began to cry softly, in self pity. Her tears seemed to quench the imaginary fire. There came the remembrance of her father's certain utterances, and little by little they found a place in her mind, comforting and convincing her anew. She was preparing mentally to thrust the priest into the fire which she had made ready for herself, when her tender heart rebelled at so serving the kind old man, and she snatched him back hurriedly from the licking tongues of flame that already reached out for him. H2 The Sword of Justice Then her mind wandered to Madame. She wondered if she had found the Indian village and Pierre. Could it indeed be Pierre, alive and well ? Many of the girl's happiest recollec- tions were entwined with a rosy-faced, sturdy boy, who had fought for her and dominated her in true man-fashion, since that hour on the ship when, but a timid child, she had wept because of the encroachments of a young bully, and Pierre had come to her rescue. Eugenie had thought much of Madame since her going from the Fort, for she was the only Frenchwoman beside herself within its walls, and the girl missed her sorely. Eugenie's mother had succumbed to the hard- ships of the voyage to New France, and had died on the way out; since that time Madame had always held toward the child a motherly care. So while the girl knitted she dreamed of the past until the sun began to descend; seeing which she slipped her work into her pocket and turned her steps up the well-worn, bluff path. She was not going into the dreary Fort yet, not she ; it had been much too serious a matter to get out, nor did she know when she might accomplish it again. She would make the best of this free hour, and roam a little way into the forest before she demanded entrance of Manuel. She must not go far, though, nor must she stray from the beaten path, for it was easy to lose one's self in this bewildering pine forest, where The Sword of Justice 113 every tall, straight tree was like every other tree, and all grew so close together that the Fort was easily lost and obscured from view. She turned into the wood and walked a little way, until she came upon a brook which gurgled over its black bed, sometimes almost buried under the lightly resting cover of pine needles, which fell constantly upon it. With the perfect idleness of youth which finds sudden interest in matters most trifling, she gathered a long stick from the ground and began slowly to follow the brook side, laboriously scraping away the pine needles, giving the fretting water an open course in which to flow. All unconscious was she that from the dense foliage of a tree near by a pair of eyes filled with eager curiosity stared upon her, while a lithe young body edged itself cautiously along the bending branch, striving for a more unob- structed view. Suddenly the overweighted bough gave too far, and without warning dropped its large, strange fruit on the soft brown pine needles, just over against the spot where Eugenie stood rooted to the earth, paralyzed by terror. Her mouth was open to scream, her eyes were black with fright at the sudden apparition of an Indian who dropped as from the heavens. Before she could give vent to the terror-frozen cry which stuck in her throat, the Indian bounded to his feet, leaped across the brook which divided 8 H4 The Sword of Justice them and caught her in his arms, at the same time covering her mouth to smother the cry which he momentarily expected to hear ring out on the still air. Her head was bent back so that his face was above hers, and very near ; he saw the look of agonized fright in those great gray eyes which stared into his own so pitifully. He felt the strong, irregular flutter of her labor- ing heart beneath his detaining hold. His own heart began to stir also with strange, irregular beatings, while a feeling born of the sweet forced contact swept over him. Obeying an impulse whose strength compelled him, desirous, too, of shutting away from his vision that look of frightened misery, his face drew nearer, nearer to hers, until he had closed first one eye, and the other, with a long, tender kiss. When he raised his head and gazed again into her eyes, their look had changed. Something, per- haps the tenderness of the act, or maybe the faint stirring of memory, told her that she had no need to fear. " Eugenie," he said, speaking quickly and in French, his rapt, low tone in accord with the feeling which still vibrated through all his being. "Do you not know me?" At the sound of the voice speaking her own tongue a light of gladness leaped into the fright- ened eyes. She made a motion to draw away the detaining hand from her mouth, and Pierre, feeling the danger was passed, uncovered her The Sword of Justice 115 lips, and even allowed her to withdraw herself a little from him, where she stood an instant, staring and uncertain. Then " Pierre ! Pierre ! " she cried, holding out both little hands to him. Either he did not see those welcoming hands, or seeing, disdained them, for he gathered her again into his arms and was bending to put a kiss on her mouth, when the womanhood in her aroused itself, and she pushed his face away and slipped out of his grasp. " Silly boy, we are too old for such childish kissing," she said, settling her ruffled little per- son with a few smoothing touches, and looking into his disappointed face with an air of be- witching primness. " You used not to mind my kisses, Eugenie," he exclaimed aggrievedly, to which she deigned no reply. Reaction after her fright had set in, and she was shaking so that she had much ado to stand. She slipped down in a heap on the pine needles, to avoid the ignominy of a complete collapse. "You have come near frightening my few wits from me, Pierre," she said, giving him a severe, reproachful look. " I believed you an Indian, and my poor scalp almost fell from my head in terror at thought of how you would rend it from me." He dropped to his knees beside her. " And I deemed you a spirit of the woods," he said, laughing softly, his open admiration glowing in 1 1 6 The Sword of Justice the frank eyes that wandered over each dainty feature of her face, noting its changes. " You used not to be so passing fair, Eugenie," he said at length, his tone expressing the deep wonder which held him. She gave her pretty head a little hitch, it could hardly be called a toss, it was something far finer and more subtile in its coquettish art. " As to that, Pierre, I doubt if the change lies in me; 'tis but contrast. Your eyes have been used this many a day to seeing only broad- faced squaws ; " but even as she said this, a look of self-consciousness denied her words, and Pierre ratified this denial with a decisive shake of his head. Then, with a sudden remembering, she broke out, " Madame, your mother, where is she, Pierre? Did she reach you in safety? I have so feared for her." The boy's face changed and hardened in an instant, he choked when he tried to speak, and had to pause and grasp his self-control firmly. " She came," he said at length, in a dry, hard voice ; " fear no more for her, she is safe. Oh ! Eugenie, Eugenie, she is dead ! " He broke down boyishly, and putting his head against the girl's knee he sobbed out the first tears of relief that had come to him since that awful experience. In a moment he recovered him- self, ashamed of his outbreak. He raised his head quickly, but not before he felt a soft touch The Sword of Justice 1 1 7 of sympathetic fingers stray over his hair. He turned aside, that the welling tears in his eyes might be hidden. " She found me in the WO od where I watched for the coming of ' Puyafiktcha.' She was broken from all " he could not finish the phrase. " She died alone with me I buried her there." Speech became impossible. " Oh, my poor Pierre ! " exclaimed the little maid softly, and forgetting her coquettish as- sumption of older ways she slipped two soft arms around his neck, and drew his head over until her warm cheek rested comfort- ingly against his. Thus they sat until on a sudden Pierre started from the tenderly en- circling arms of the girl and placed his head quickly against the earth. His ear, trained almost to the keenness of a savage's by his two years' association with them, had detected the sound of coming steps. " Eug6nie," he exclaimed in a quick whisper, " some one comes from the Fort ; I must be gone." " It is doubtless the captain searching for me, as he made threat of doing if I tarried too long. Go you, Pierre, quickly, lest they capture you. I will take my way in an opposite direc- tion, for if they once suspect that I have held speech with you it may cost me dearly," answered the girl, blanching at the possibili- ties contained in the thought. Pierre caught her hand, kissed it, and darted 1 1 8 The Sword of Justice away like a rabbit seeking cover, crouching as he ran so that the underbrush afforded him concealment. Eugenie made her way less quickly but in the same crouching attitude in the opposite direction, hoping that she might yet be in time to intercept the searchers. Un- fortunately they had turned riverward, and were even then following unconsciously upon the trail of Pierre. He could hear their voices coming toward him, and with terror he real- ized that the underbrush was growing more scant and less able to conceal him. He was yet a long way from the spot where his canoe lay safely hidden in the thick water weeds in a little bayou down the river. As he darted forward, he heard a fierce shout go up behind him, telling him that in his flight the scant shelter had betrayed him to the eyes of his enemies. No use then for further con- cealment, for they were coming on pell-mell, and in speed lay his only chance. He sprung to his full height and darted forward at a pace which would soon have left his pursuers hope- lessly in the rear, when the loud report of an arquebuse rent the air. He stumbled and fell headlong to the earth, conscious of a keen pain in his leg. Undaunted, he got to his feet again, but the enemy had gained on him. He tried to dash forward, but every step was an agony, and he could feel the warm flood of his own blood pouring down under his deer- The Sword of Justice 119 skin leggin. He shut his teeth and tried not to heed. He was not far from the river bank now, if he could reach it he would leap over and trust himself to the water, for there he could use his arms. They were almost upon him when his leg gave out suddenly, and a second time he fell heavily to the earth. He pulled himself to a sitting posture and measured the distance to the river's edge; a quick glance back at his pur- suers told him it was no use, he could not crawl or scramble to the edge of the water before they would be upon him. He drew his knife from his belt and, struggling up on'his uninjured knee, waited. He faced death with what calm- ness he could. It was hard to go in this way with his vow of vengeance unfulfilled, to leave the world now but He saw the raised halberd of the first of the oncoming Spaniards, he sent one swift thought, which was like a pain, toward the girl from whom he had just parted. This was the end, but he would not go without one blow at his assailants. Quickly he raised his knife and hurled it with deadly aim. It struck the arm which held the descending halberd, and transfixed it. The sud- den, sharp pain caused a yell of wrath from the Spaniard, whose weapon swerved from its aim, and glancing from the head fell heavily on Pierre's shoulder. He raised it again, and this time it had crushed the boy's skull like an egg- 1 20 The Sword of Justice shell. Before it could fall the others had come panting up, and one caught the stock of the halberd firmly in his hand and flung it aside, saying quickly in excited Spanish : " Hold your villain hand, Antonio, this is no savage. Mark his look. By the right hand of the Virgin ! 't is the Huguenot scum which the commandant is so keen for capturing. Fortune smiles on us, and we will yet finger the wedge of silver which hath been offered for his taking. Here, bind him quickly, he shows fight. See to it that the flow of blood is stopped lest he bleed himself to death and so snatch away our reward." Two of the soldiers did Perez's bidding, while Antonio interested himself in withdrawing the knife from his arm, swearing loudly the while and openly ill pleased at not being allowed to make an end of his adversary. " So, so, Antonio," said Perez, attracted by his loud-mouthed imprecation, " the boy hath managed to pink you despite your long weapon. How came he at you ? " " He hath the devil's own cunning in the throw of a knife, and had I not swerved aside he had pierced my heart instead of my arm. Now, what think you he does here, spying near the Fort? Take my word for it, Senor Captain, we will be having those devils of Satouriona's swarming over us before long." " Never fear, Antonio. San Mateo can hold out against their sort until the day of doom." The Sword of Justice 121 By this time the two soldiers had bound Pierre's hands firmly behind him, and wrapped a scarf around his leg, until the flow of blood was a little stanched. They lifted him to his feet with no gentle handling, and two behind and two before him they set off to the Fort. Three steps or more and the wounded leg refused to bear him; he tumbled forward against the shoulder of the man in front of him, and, slipping, came heavily to the earth. The startled halberdier, thinking himself attacked in the rear, wheeled suddenly and raised his weapon, but Perez's voice stayed him. Pierre was set on his feet again, this time with the prick of a pike at his back to spur him to effort. Even this failed, and he stumbled and fell a second time. " Drop your weapons, men, and shoulder him ; he either will not or cannot walk," commanded Perez. The men obeyed surlily, two taking him by the shoulders and one grasping him by the feet, having scant consideration for the wounded leg, which was leaving a trail of blood drops on the ground to mark their passage. When they reached the Fort gate it was to find an excited crowd gathered to watch their entrance. The shots fired, the shouts of the pursuers, had quickly brought together a knot of soldiers and a fair sprinkling of women, among whom stood Eugenie pale and shaking. 122 The Sword of Justice While making her way back she too had heard the shot and knew its import. Nevertheless she strove to command herself when she demanded entrance of Manuel, and with as much interest as the occasion seemed to warrant she questioned him of the noise. "Nay, as to that I know no more than another," he answered, pulling her impatiently within the gate, which he stood ready to open quickly should the returning soldiers be pur- sued. " If anything be amiss, you are the cause thereof, you little French baggage," he answered shortly. "The Senor Captain must needs go himself with three men into the woods to search for you because you were so long gone. 'T is pity you cannot stay within walls and cease giv- ing honest folk trouble," concluded Manuel, whose temper was not a little ruffled by sev- eral events of the day. So it was that when the soldiers bore Pierre into the Fort, Eug6nie, conscience-stricken and fearful, stood waiting him. An unguarded ex- clamation broke from her as her eyes rested on his ghastly face, the blue lips close pressed as if to hold back the groans of pain which were thronging for utterance. At the sound his eyes unclosed an instant and met hers. Not a muscle of his face changed, nor did a look of recogni- tion ruffle it, but his eyes seemed to hold hers for a brief second, and in that look he conveyed to her senses a warning and a command. The Sword of Justice 123 CHAPTER VIII WHEN Pierre was dropped by his bearers on the floor of a cell in the little guard-house which stood on the south side of the parade facing the barracks, the sense of relief at no longer feeling the strain on his wounded leg was so extreme that it amounted almost to joy. For a brief instant he forgot that he was wounded, and a cap- tive, possibly at the mercy of his worst enemy. He greatly desired to encounter Philippe de Lava- latte ; it was his impatience for this meeting that had driven him from the Indian village to lurk in the vicinity of the Fort, as he had done for days past. But to be bound fast and delivered into his enemy's hands as he now was, this possibility had never entered into his calculation. The first sense of relief from a pain well-nigh un- endurable having passed, rage at his folly swept over and possessed him to the exclu- sion of every other feeling. His wound was still bleeding, more slowly now, but he gave it no heed, sitting huddled up in sullen misery, staring vacantly at the rude floor of split logs, every 124 The Sword of Justice knot and unevenness photographing itself mi- nutely on his memory. He would not permit Father Augustine, who had followed the bearers into the cell, to unbind or touch his wound, painfully striving, when the priest attempted it, to draw his leg beneath him and guard it with his body. His hands were still bound fast behind him. In vain did the old man assure him in flowing Spanish that he but desired to examine his wound and relieve his pain. Pierre, who, although he understood not a word, had no trouble in reading the intention, only shook his head savagely, refusing the proffered aid. " If he be indeed a white man he hath caught some of the stubborn ways of the Indian," com- mented one of the two soldiers who still stood by waiting to see the outcome of the matter. " Best let us hold the fellow, Padre, then you can dress his wound if he will or no. It must be done, for the Captain bade us not leave until we saw to it." " Nay, nay," said the old priest, gently waving back the men who were starting forward to carry out their suggestion. "The lad is fearful that we intend him harm. It is best not to fret him into a fever. Go you," said he to one of the soldiers, " fetch hither the little French maid, Eug6nie Brissot. His ears will be open to her speech and through her we can make him know we only desire to serve him well." The Sword of Justice 125 The soldier departed promptly, anxious to have done with the business, and as quickly returned followed by Eugenie, trembling and afraid lest some suspicion of her meeting with Pierre had come to the knowledge of the Span- iards. She was greatly relieved on hearing the priest's explanation, and turned to speak to Pierre with much composure. He on his part had heard the priest pronounce her name and seen the soldier depart. Putting this simple two and two together, he was not long in guessing the man's errand. He was therefore on guard even before he heard the cheerful click, clack of Eugenie's sabots outside the door. When she entered he neither glanced up nor appeared to notice her coming until he heard her say, " Pere Augustine wishes me to say to you that he desires to cleanse your wound and bind it up, if you will let him, and that no harm is intended toward you." He recognized by the guarded speech which omitted the use of his name that Euge'nie was fully alive to the danger of the situation, never- theless he thought it wise to add a further word of caution. " That is well, be guarded, make no use of my name, lest it betray us. Say to the priest that I desire to be left in peace, that my wound shall rot and grow green before I accept service at the hands of my enemy." When Eugenie translated this, the old man 126 The Sword of Justice shook his head, making at the same time three little deprecatory sounds with his tongue against his teeth. " The boy is very young, younger than I thought," he muttered. " Ask him, then, my child, if he will permit you to dress the wound, for it must be done, if not otherwise, then by force." Pierre shook his head decidedly when this prop- osition was repeated to him. " Nay, it is no sight for a woman," he maintained stoutly ; " say to them that if they will loose my hands I can care for the wound myself." Both soldiers were quick to negative this suggestion. " Let the cub stay trapped, say I," exclaimed one of them positively. " He hath too great dexterity in casting a knife to be a safe one to let free until the prison hath tamed him a bit," chimed in the other. " I pray you let me care for your hurt," pleaded Eugenie, turning to Pierre ; " I have some skill in such matters, and I will handle you most tenderly, whereas these " with a wave of her hand toward the soldiers " they will have little thought for your suffering. If I may not do it, of a certainty they will." "Do they then refuse to unbind me?" replied Pierre. " They fear to do it," returned the girl, a glimmer of pride in the smile which she turned upon him. Perhaps she saw consent in Pierre's face, for she went quickly on her knees over the The Sword of Justice 127 bleeding leg which he with much effort straight- ened out, even while he protested that it was no fit task for a woman, and that the blood would sicken her. With fingers that showed some practice, and more natural aptitude, Eugenie deftly unbound the blood-soaked scarf which the soldiers had wound about the wound, and taking a knife from the priest's hand she slit the leggin to the knee and laid it back. The leg was so smeared and clotted with blood that it was not until she had bathed it a little that she discovered a hole through and through it, the ball having torn the flesh badly and gone so close to the bone as to splinter off some small bits. These she was not slow in finding when she tenderly inserted her finger in the open wound. Having removed the splinters and cleansed the hurt thoroughly, she poured in a healing balm which the priest had brought, and bound up the leg once more. All this while Pierre, white and faint from pain and loss of blood, sat with grim lips com- pressed. When she had finished she raised her head, demanding gently, " Did I hurt you sorely? I strove not to." " Your very touch carries healing with it," he answered, trying to give her a reassuring smile. " I would I could do something more for you," she said, tears welling up in her eyes as she spoke. " It is because of me this evil has befallen you. If you had not met me in the 128 The Sword of Justice forest this had never been. Tis the second time I have brought ill fortune upon you. Two years ago when we were escaping from the Fort it was my silly complaining that betrayed us. Think you I have not remembered this and sorrowed because of it? Now " The tears were fast threatening to get be- yond control, and Pierre, fearful of conse- quences, struck in on her self-accusing almost harshly. " Have a care, have a care," he warned. At this instant one of the soldiers broke out gruffly, " Come, come, enough of your French jabber, how know we what you plot together in your outlandish tongue?" With the instinct of a natural actress Eug6nie sprung lightly to her feet, a little laugh chasing away the threatening tears. She shook out her crumpled skirts gayly. " As to that, you stupid fellow, I but spoke to him of the comfort of his hurt leg. You would doubtless have me say all my say to him in Spanish. It is small mat- ter that his mind is not open to one word of such speech, so that your donkey ears catch every sound." At which bit of impertinence even the priest smiled, while the second soldier guffawed and slapped his side in hearty ap- preciation of the discomfiture of his brother- in-arms. His joy was short lived, for Eugenie turned quickly on him. "As to you, get your silly mouth together quickly, lest an The Sword of Justice 129 alligator take it for the opening of a con- venient cave wherein to make a home. Come, now, both of you lend a hand and lift the youth to the bed, where he will have more comfort." She ordered the two strapping fellows about as if she were a giant and they but pigmies, and she saw to it that they lifted their burden gently and deposited him with considerate care on the pile of soft gray moss in the corner which did duty for a bed. " Why will you not unbind him," she coaxed, seeing how uncomfortable his position must be while his hands remained thus fastened. "As to that, we will wait for the Senor Captain's orders," they returned. With this Eugenie had to content herself. Turning to Pierre she said, " I go now, but if they permit, I will come again presently and bring food for you. Keep your heart cheer- ful." So saying she left the cell, and Pierre heard the key turn rustily in the door which closed after the retreating group. Left alone, unable to move, there remained nothing for him save to go over the events of the day and curse the childish folly which had brought him thus, alone, into the power of his enemy. He looked about the narrow cell which formed his prison. It was rudely built of logs and thatched with palmetto, as were the quarters for the soldiers. He thought grimly 9 1 30 The Sword of Justice that if it were not for his wound he could surely find some means of escape, but to what purpose could he put freedom now that his leg refused to bear him? He seemed sud- denly to have lost all control over it and the pain was intense. It must be weeks at least before, even with the best care, he could hope to use it again. In the meantime what would befall him? Death? well that must come to all, and he could face it as bravely as another: not yet, though, not until he had seen his enemy laid low. Surely the Master of Breath, remembering the oath that he sware when he stuck the split feather in his head, would not snatch away his little span of life until he had made good the oath of vengeance. If he be but allowed this one boon, then he was ready to go out of the world in any way that these devils chose to send him ; to show them, beside, that he knew how to die as an Indian as well as a Frenchman. Then into his bitter musing, his bargaining with Fate, of life for revenge, came his mother's word, " Not for vengeance, but for your own safety. ' Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord, I will repay.' " For a while his soul fought over this ground, he striving to cast out the blood desire within him that he might meet his enemy as a righteous executioner rather than a vengeful fury. The narrow cell had grown quite dark The Sword of Justice 131 now and a feeling of drowsiness was stealing over him. One thought only stood out in warm relief against his dark day : Eugenie was not far dis- tant, doubtless she would come again soon. 1 32 TJie Sword of Justice CHAPTER IX THE turning of the rusty key in the lock dis- turbed the light slumber of the prisoner. His eyes unclosed to find the cell in total darkness. He watched eagerly for the opening door, the showing of a light beyond, nothing doubting that it was Eugenie returning as she had prom- ised. He sat up after some effort : it was hard to move with a wounded leg and arms bound. He saw the door swing open, the crack of light widened into a rectangle which framed, not the figure of Eugenie Brissot, but that of a tall, dark man. His face was fitfully revealed by the flaring flame of a rush-light, set in a rude wooden holder and borne by a soldier who peered from behind the shoulders of the man in advance of him, striving to send his gaze into the blackness of the cell. " Give me the light and leave us, Manuel, but do not lock the door," commanded the first comer curtly, advancing into the room as he spoke. He waited until the door closed, then turned toward Pierre. Two years had not wrought such a great change in him that the boy's memory did not at once place him, and The Sword of Justice 133 I think had memory failed, a certain animal instinct, strongly developed by his half savage life, would have taught him that he was in the presence of his enemy. He had struggled up from the bed and stood on his unwounded leg, his bound hands behind him, leaning against the wall for support. To sit and let this man stand above him, look down on him, helpless as he was, this was more than Pierre's young spirit could endure. Lavalatte came nearer, holding the feeble light so that it flared an instant on the boy's face. How every familiar feature scourged his memory as he looked. The same face, moulded in stronger, heavier lines, and on it the same look of hate and contempt which had burned itself into his brain. For a full minute the two gazed fairly each into the other's face. One pair of eyes sent forth challenge and defiance, the other had in their depths something almost like pleading. Despite the boy's helpless position he wore a look of such fearless dignity that it seemed fairly to quell the man before him and reverse their positions, turning the prisoner into the judge. Then almost simultaneously they uttered, the one, his enemy's name ; the other, the brief con- vincing words, " You are Pierre." "Yes, Pierre," exclaimed the younger man, " and you have doubtless come hither to take the life of the helpless son, even as you took the honor of the helpless mother." 1 34 The Sword of Justice Lavalatte held out his other hand weaponless and empty. Before making other answer than this he seated himself on a heavy wooden stool which formed all the furniture of the little cell, and placed the candle on the floor beside him. Its light threw his distorted shadow across the wall and ceiling, a shadow which writhed and twisted with every movement of the man or flicker of the flame. " Suppose instead that I have come to offer you freedom," said he at length, slowly. Pierre's answer leaped from his lips in hot impatience. "Then would I say, from your hand I would not take freedom from my cap- tivity, nor life if I were dying under the torture of Indians, nor a crumb if I were starving. My score against you is too long for any act of yours to abate it one jot, and I choose to take only ill at your hands until the hour when I can repay all, with one blow." " You speak with some certainty of the com- ing of that hour, which is strange, seeing your poor plight at this instant," returned the man calmly. " I know I am a prisoner, wounded, helpless, and at your mercy; but it will not always be thus that we meet. I have kept my vigil beside my watch-fire, and the spirit that came to me there has delivered you into my hands." He spoke solemnly as if he repeated the words of another, and as he spoke he no longer doubted, The Sword of Justice 135 but believed himself all those things which he uttered. The man before him gave a little unnoticed shudder. The boy's tone was such as to arouse superstitious fear in the mind of any prone to it. Nevertheless, Lavalatte answered jeeringly, " Drop your childish prating and listen to reason. What can you do with a wounded leg, a prisoner in the hands of your gentle enemies? They may keep you for awhile until word is come from San Augustine, but in the end do you, who have seen their butcher's work, doubt your fate ? Take my aid, by it we will escape, and you shall lead me to the village of the In- dians, to the woman I love. There we three can dwell and become one with the savages until return to France is possible. I have done amiss, I acknowledge my fault, I will do what I can to atone. By any rite which she pleases I will wed Amalie, and thus wash out the stain I have put upon her." While he spoke Pierre's anger had been ris- ing higher and higher, shaking him by its very impotence, distorting his face and well-nigh choking back the utterance of the words which came tumbling to his lips. " Man, man," he raged, " do you not know that it is to her son that you speak? Oh, great God above us, give me my freedom for one little instant," he prayed wildly; then at Lavalatte again, " Dog that you are, the very savages 1 36 The Sword of Justice that you would dwell among, knowing you, would stone you from their midst and leave you to the vultures and birds of prey that are your kin." Stung in spite of himself by the measureless contempt in the other's tone, Lavalatte started from his seat with clinched fist. Controlling himself in time he fell back again, " Where is your mother?" he questioned, grasping a forced calmness. The boy vouchsafed no answer but stood staring down at him. " Keeping silent will not save her, my young warrior," he sneered. " I start to-morrow with a force of Spaniards for the village from which you came. We will see if these redskins can stand against our arquebuses." He watched intently to see the boy flinch. He did not; instead there spread over his face a look of such solemn import, such calm, such assurance, that it pierced like a spoken word to the brain of his watching adversary. Lavalatte's face began to whiten, he half rose from the stool, shaking so that it was hard for him to stand. " Not dead ? " he almost shrieked, holding out his hand imploringly. "Yes dead. She died in the forest, alone with me; my hands shaped her shallow grave and put her in it. Before she died she told me all, and bade me slay you as ruthlessly as I would a poisonous viper. Strike me if you The Sword of Justice 1 37 will," for in his mad rage at the boy's words Lavalatte had advanced with upraised arm. " You may beat me down, plunge your dagger into my heart, but you cannot kill me. I shall live to stand above you ; dying, my face bending over you so like hers shall become hers; my hand and her hand, striking, shall become one, and she shall rest avenged." 138 The Sword of Justice CHAPTER X IT was night. In the public square of the Indian village there was a gathering which denoted that matters of interest to the tribe were going forward. In the centre of the open space a great fire of pine logs burned, sending out long tongues of red flame and throwing a lurid glow over the rows on rows of dark, silent, squatting fig- ures. The whole population of the town were assembled. Back of the men could be seen the dull-faced women, whose quickly moving curious eyes were the only sign of life which they permit- ted themselves. In the front row sat the chief, and the older braves of the tribe. From every mouth ascended the curling incense of tobacco smoke, and the pipes, like winking fire-flies, glowed into starlike brightness with each long inhalation. Despite the solemn countenances, the un- moved look on those rows of faces, the very air seemed charged with excitement. Among the striplings and younger warriors an uneasy shift- ing of the limbs from time to time betrayed their impatience and lack of self-control. The Sword of Justice 1 39 The reason which had given rise to this gath- ering, had its beginning in the morning, when Satouriona and his nephew Olotoraca talked together in the lodge of the chief. The older man's countenance had worn a heavy brooding look, and deeper lines were marking themselves in his face. It had been so, these many days, as sun followed sun, and still the seat of Chepane remained empty. The vacant spot where his bow and quiver used to hang seemed so large, that turn his eyes where he would, Satouriona was ever gazing at it. Nothing had been thought of the boy's absence when two or three days passed and he did not return. He was in the habit of wander- ing off on solitary hunts, returning at his pleas- ure: but as time went on and still he did not come, unrest began to possess the dwellers in the chief's lodge. Olotoraca broke the silence which had lasted between them for some time. " An evil thought is preying on the heart of my father and tearing at his spirit?" The chief's eyes wandered toward the boy's vacant seat before he answered, and it was as if his eyes as well as his lips uttered the words, " My white son, where is he ? " Then as Olot- oraca shook his head and vouchsafed no reply, he continued, " Since the Master of Breath hath opened the mind of his eye, has his love turned to the people of white faces and black deeds who 140 The Sword of Justice dwell by the great river? Has he then gone from the lodge of the people of his heart and forgotten his red father?" "Never, O my father," answered Olotoraca with decision. " Chepane has the skin of the white man, but his heart is the heart of a red man, which does not forget or turn aside." " Where, then, is he that he comes no more to his place in the lodge," demanded the chief, pointing dramatically to the spot set apart for the boy. " I have heavy fears, my father, that he hath fallen into the hands of the black-hearted ones who would buy him of us, and could not. To- night beside the fire of our people, if the great medicine-man of the tribe says that it is well, I will chant my song of war and stir in the hearts of our braves the thirst to avenge the blood of my white brother, if he is indeed dead, or if he still lives we will bring him again to thee. Does my father look with smiling eye on this the wish of my heart," asked Olotoraca watching eagerly for the sign of approval without which he was loth to move. "Do as thou hast spoken, my son. Thy heart's wish is even as my own. My thought already drinks up the blood of my white son's enemies, and my hands long to hold their scalps. Go as thou hast said. I will seek the lodge of Helmacarpa and see if the talk of the spirits is with us." The Sword of Justice 141 And Helmacarpa having given favorable signs and omens, the village came together when darkness fell, and the war dance was about to begin. From among a group of the young braves the tall figure of Olotoraca rose at length, and strode forward into the bright circle of the fire- light. He was clad in all his braveries, and rudely painted across the chest in crude colors and designs, among which his totem, the alli- gator, twisted itself. His belt tinkled with hanging shells, and bright bits of metal, and he wore a necklace of claws about his throat. His face was daubed with streaks of crimson pigment which distorted his fine expression into one of diabolical feroc- ity. In his black hair lock he proudly wore an eagle's feather with a gash cut in its broadest side. The lips of this wound were banded by a broad streak of scarlet paint. This crest signified that he had already cut the throat of an enemy. In his hand he carried a war-club, also smeared with the red pigment, so that it seemed to drip with fresh blood. Standing as he did, strongly silhouetted against the red flash of the leaping flames behind, he looked almost heroic in size; a sight to inspire confidence in his strength and prowess. Squatting on the ground not far away were 142 The Sword of Justice the players of the tawaiegons, with sticks upraised ready to begin their rhythmic beat when the first note of the expected war song sounded on the still air. Stamping his right foot to the earth, with head upraised and nos- trils quivering like an impatient steed, Oloto- raca flourished his war-club, and in a sing-song chant whose rhythm was strongly marked he began : " Give me, ye Gods, the wings of a war eagle, I will away to the south, The blood of my heart cries out for the battle, As the tongue of my mouth. " Already the vultures are gathering thickly Low they stoop swift they swoop, Their talons are red from the feast I have spread, They have come to the call of my fierce war-whoop." As he chanted, louder and louder the tawaiegons rumbled, and grumbled, and coughed, in sharp staccato. Now, Olotoraca was speeding round and round the dancing flames, his head thrown forward, his shoulders slightly drooped, his whole attitude suggesting the stealthy following of a trail, a blood-thirsty eagerness to pounce upon his victim. From time to time he paused long enough to strike the earth with his stamp- ing foot, and sound forth a war-whoop which stirred the blood of the listening throng, and echoed among the vacant huts, until at last it The Sword of Justice 143 lost itself in the labyrinths of the forest beyond. Quickly, then, would he take up his rhythmic dog-trot in the narrow circle about the fire, uttering short ejaculatory sentences, which seemed the safety valve to a heart too full to hold its seething thoughts. Already a wave of restlessness seemed gathering to the crest amongst the squatting braves ; every face watch- ing that swift moving figure in the firelight, mirrored a keen barbaric delight They were dallying with the impulse which stirred them to follow in its wake, they were holding back until this feeling should have gathered the force of a compelling ecstasy. The first break in the group came from among the younger braves, who were as yet untutored in the joys of this subtle restraint put upon the awakening lust for blood. One by one, with wild resounding whoop they sprang from their places and fell in behind that ever-moving figure, heads protruding, the right foot emphasizing by its more forceful stroke the exact measure of the tawaiegons' beat, while like swift arrows their harsh sen- tences pierced the night air. Round and round they went, gathering, and gathering, ever widening that trotting circle; the frenzy of the men even communicating itself at length to the women beyond, who silently swayed to the stroke of the drum, some- times tossing their arms aloft in an ecstasy 144 The Sword of Justice which sought and found expression in motion because speech was denied. In the early dawn of the next day, thirty warriors filed out of the village armed and pro- visioned. Olotoraca's war party had gone forth to the rescue of Pierre. The Sword of Justice 145 CHAPTER XI To Pierre, confined in the narrow quarters of Fort San Mateo guard-house, unable to move even within this limited space, the days passed very slowly. It was not only the pain in his wounded leg which made him lose flesh and grow pale as time went by. The close confine- ment, shut away from open air and sunshine, after his long continued half savage existence was quite as hard to bear. His mind also did its share of preying upon the body. The bitter, impotent wrath which burned in him at thought of his enemy's nearness, as well as his forebod- ings of the future, altogether created a condition hard for him to bear. Eugenie was allowed to come to him once a day to dress and care for the wound which was healing healthily and rapidly. Upon promise of good behavior, extorted reluctantly from him by the girl's reasoning, the guard had consented to undo his hands. This gave him a little more comfort, but the days passed drearily enough, spent as they were in the dim half light of the narrow cell, given over a prey to useless regrets for his failure ; while for occupation he had 1 46 The Sword of Justice nothing save to count the knots on the logs or busy himself with endless plans for escape when his leg should be healed. Yet in spite of all this, he could not find it in him to be altogether sorry for a state of affairs which every day brought him a glimpse of Eugenie's laughing face and the soft touch of her fingers among the bandages. From his waking in the morning until her coming, he watched the door with eager eyes, his heart stirring joyously at every sound which might be her step, and his impatient imaginings filling all the silence with the resounding echoes of her light footfall. When at length she did come, and bent over her self-imposed task with a tenderness which she was at no pains to conceal, when he saw in her face the artless childish reflection of the love which had grown in his own heart, when sometimes her dear nearness could resolve itself into fleeting actual contact, then, he almost blessed the evil fate which had trapped him. If only the guard would mercifully turn his back an instant or close the door. This he never did. He stood, eyes open to everything, if happily for them his ears were closed to an understanding of their speech. Sometimes in his impatience or curiosity he would object to their talk, only to receive the laughing rejoinder from Eugenie " Stupid, shall I speak to him in a speech of which he has no understanding." The Sword of Jit slice 147 And the common sense of this simple answer would settle the matter for a time. They were very discreet, these two, far more so than their years warranted. They had a care not to show over much interest in each other, though poor Pierre could not always veil his tell-tale eyes. Eugenie brought him hopeful little messages from old Jean, her father, who promised to find some way to help Pierre escape when the time was ripe. As the wound grew better, she it was, also, who warned him not to let the guard see any signs of the fast returning strength in his leg. By this ruse they hoped to relax the vigilance of the watch. So even this dark time was not without its joys, which the boy was quick to grasp and make the most of. He thought much of Satouriona and his Indian home, and wondered if they mourned him as dead, or if any inkling of the truth had come to them. He regretted now his foolish silence in regard to his plans. Possibly they might have attempted a rescue had they known, though even his youthful imagination could scarcely contrive a way for those savages, armed only with primitive weapons to assault and carry a fortified position, strongly guarded by men in armor, and bearing fire-arms. Time slipped away until two weeks had elapsed, then came a day when Pierre watched 148 The Sword of Justice from dawn to darkness for Eugenie and saw her not. That night closed in drearily and sleep was long in coming to him, for his busy brain went ever round and round seeking an explana- tion for her absence. Another day came bringing no Eugenie. Then fear seized on him that Jean's promise of help had become known to them ; that news had come from San Augustine that he, Pierre, was condemned to death and no one was to be allowed to see him ; e^very contingency that the ingenuity of thought could present, came to him in turn in those evil hours. He could ask no questions if he would. He took the food and water brought to him three times a day, and spent the rest of his time in solitary maddening thought from which the slow dragging hours gave him no relief. He dressed his leg as best he could and took some small comfort in the knowledge that it was making rapid improvement. Another day came and went, and another, until a week had passed. Fears for Eugenie's safety, the uncertainty as to his own fate, the horror of loneliness without occupation, the pining of his freedom-loving lungs for one clean breath of forest air, all these things and many others of minor importance, drew him almost to the verge of that madness which had threatened him not many weeks ago. He felt it creeping near, he discerned his The Sword of Justice 149 danger and strove against it. He could not, he would not, be dragged into that dreaded unknown, unseen world, forever to dwell the only reality among the surrounding shadows. He was in this mood of despair on the after- noon of the eighth day of unbroken solitude, when a light sound fell on his ear which brought him to a sitting position, alert and intent on the instant. Surely this was not the trickery of his overwrought brain, this was a real sound, the sound for which his heart as well as his ears had waited eight weary days. The key grated in the lock, the door swung open framing the figure of Eugenie and the sentry behind her. Pierre's heart leaped up in wild thanksgiving at her safety; but even in this instant of joy his quick eye took note of the pale sorrowful face, the drooping curve of the mouth, and the bright eyes dimmed and reddened by overmuch weeping. " Eugenie, darling," he cried, forgetful for the instant of caution, in his face joy and con- cern striving for the mastery and writing a plain record for the easy reading for any who cared to look. "What hath befallen where have you been?" he questioned impatiently, as the girl, trying bravely to control her quivering face, bent at once over the clumsy bandages and began to attend to the task which was her only excuse for being there. 1 50 The Sword of Justice " My father," she gasped, trying to choke back her sobs, " Dead." " Dead," repeated Pierre, dazed at this simple solution of her absence, which had not occurred to him. He flinched as with physical pain, when he felt two great hot tears fall on his bare leg, and he longed to seize her, and hold her in his arms while he found words to comfort. Was it that good spirit which hovers over lovers, that prompted the officer of the guard to send at this moment a sudden and peremp- tory summons to the sentry at the door? Jose hesitated, and glancing at the girl, seemingly concerned over nothing but the task before her, finally shut the door with a bang and turned the key in the lock. "Yes," she continued in answer to Pierre's exclamation of surprise, "that is why I have not been here, he has been ill so ill. Last night he died; we have but now come from burying him. Oh, my poor father ! " She broke down completely covering her face with her hands, "Now I have no one; I am alone." "Not while I live," exclaimed Pierre ten- derly. " Never grieve so, sweetheart. We must escape, you shall go with me, I have a plan. We will go free and live among my Indian people who will give us shelter, until some day we can go home to France." "That cannot be, Pierre, I would but bring ill fortune to you, as twice before I have done. The Sword of Justice 151 'T was through me that you were captured, and through me that we failed to escape in that awful day of blood two years ago. Nay, I would but bring ill a third time." " Then bring me ill, for without you there is no good in all the world," he protested tenderly. She raised her head, looked into his face an instant and saw the measureless love shining in his young eyes; and her heart stretched out toward it with the first feeling of comfort which her desolation had known. "Do you indeed love me?" she questioned as simply as a child. Then seeing his answer, which was two longing arms held open for her, she crept into them and felt them close tenderly about her. " I thank you, Pierre," she mur- mured gratefully. As for him, who can say, in that fresh, clean heart of youth, on which the world had laid no soiling touch, what holy feelings and high resolves came thronging, as he held her sweet life close to his own and knew that for the future years, he must bear this dear burden, safeguarding it in myriad dangers from others, ay, possibly even from himself. 152 The Sword of Justice CHAPTER XII A WAVE of excitement was running like wild- fire through the Indian village ; the braves, the half-grown striplings, the children, even the squaws, bearing their stolid little papooses strapped to their backs, had forsaken work and pleasure, and were gathering with eager curiosity in the village square. The news had flown through the lodges that the war party of Olotoraca was returning, was even now at the entrance of the palisade which guarded the town. From the chiefs lodge above, Satou- riona could be seen descending the path to meet the home-coming warriors, advancing with a quicker pace than his dignity gener- ally permitted. As the war party filed slowly in, led by Olotoraca, silent and gloomy, followed by twenty-nine of the thirty who had gone forth, there was no need for curious eyes to seek the one who bore the bleeding scalps, or to run their quick glances down the line for a sight of the white youth whom they had gone forth to rescue. The silent entry, the gloomy faces, told their tale of failure without words, and the deep quiet in the waiting crowd The Sword of Justice 153 became almost painful, broken as it was only by the sound of quick breathing from many throats, and the light noise of tramping mocca- sined feet. Suddenly, on the tense stillness, fell the cry of a woman. Twenty-nine warriors had fol- lowed the chief; one came not, and the heart of the squaw of " Wings of the Eagle " cried out, while she gathered her long black hair before her face like a veil and began the death wail of her people. Satouriona reached the square and met his nephew face to face. His eyes made their quick, fruitless search and returned to fasten themselves with questioning severity on the leader who stood before him. " My white son, where is he ? " he asked sternly. Olotoraca made no answer. " And the scalps of our white enemies where are they?" demanded the chief with increas- ing sternness, though for an instant his eye wavered from the figure before him to let a fleeting glance of concern rest upon his son Athore who stood among the younger war- riors. Then again, and again no answer, "Where is 'Wings of the Eagle '?" " Have my warriors become squaws, that no blood marks the way of their going? Do the vultures no longer follow their steps and wait for the feast of their making?" 154 The Sword of Justice "We are men, not squaws, my father; we went against our enemies. But the walls of the white men are strong and our weapons are weak, moreover, they watch on the high places against surprise. Our arrows could but fly like birds over their strong walls, or bury themselves harmless in the earth. For many days we lurked in the forest, and waited to fall on them unawares if they came forth. After a long watch, a few did come, but when we bent our bows at them, they made their long black poles to speak fire with loud voices, and the speech of their black poles smote 'Wings of the Eagle,' and he fell to rise no more. We pursued the people of black hearts, sending arrows after them like rain at the Big Spring Moon, and one fell pierced with our darts, but they bore him between them, and got quickly within their walls and came forth no more, though we waited until our food was all eaten." Olotoraca made his recital in a calm level tone which took /rom it any seeming of apology. No sound had broken the stillness while he spoke except a cry from the new-made widow when her husband's fall- ing was told. And now a great stillness had fallen and they waited, waited, now turning their eyes toward young Athore, now letting them stray along the group of squatting braves as if they ques- tioned as to who should take the initiative. The Sword of Jtistice 155 At length a grizzled warrior rose from his place and seizing an arrow which was stuck into the ground, he advanced toward Athore and smote him with it, making a deep scratch in the flesh, from which the bright dark blood flowed freely ; as he smote him he lifted up his head crying, " Hiou," letting the last part of the word die away in a long sustained melancholy wail, and all the tribe raising their heads echoed, " Hiou," until the volume of the cry gathered and rose, reverberating away into the forest where it lost itself and died. The old warrior reseated himself and thrust the arrow back into the earth, and again un- broken silence reigned. Athore watched the blood trickle from his wound with the calm unconcern of the Indian who scorns to show pain. Again the old man rose and drew the arrow from the ground, again he smote the boy and sent forth his wail and heard it echoed by those hundreds of throats. This time, when the youth was pierced he fell to the earth as one dead and lay stiff and stark. The women came and lifted his stiff form and bore him aside, where they began to wail over him in good earnest. While this was going forward, the chief and warriors remained seated, staring before them, uttering no word, nor seeming to concern themselves in the least. The women and a few of the warriors who 156 The Sword of Justice had joined them continued to wail over the wounded man and strive to revive him. Some of them warmed a kind of moss and rubbed it on the scratches, which had already ceased bleeding. After a time Athore revived, sat up, and seemed in fact as well as ever. 1 But before this happened Satouriona had for- saken the square and gone to his lodge where he sat with his head buried between his knees, bemoaning himself as a patriarch of old. " My white son, my white son. He will come no more to the lodges of my people, and my heart is bereft." 1 Whenever a war party returned without a scalp, the dearest child of the chief had to be struck in this way, in order to renew and impress more deeply on their minds the injuries received from their enemies and to animate them more and more to vengeance. The Sword of Justice 157 CHAPTER XIII IN the dense blackness of his prison cell, Pierre sat on his moss bed gripping his knees tightly, in a fruitless effort to curb his keen impatience, and still the irregular beating of his heart which seemed now and again to fairly leap into his throat and threatened to stop his breathing. The minutes were like days, the hours dragged themselves into an eternity in which he seemed to himself to grow old, and become more fit for the grave than the active struggle for life and freedom which lay so immediately before him. To-night he was to make his dash for liberty. He sat now, awaiting the hour for action, going over again and again, minutely, his carefully laid plans, his clearly defined injunctions to Eugenie : then with a leap his imagination would carry him forward into action, until his body grew almost as weary from nervous ten- sion as if he had, indeed, passed through the exertions which he so vividly pictured. Thus far, Eugenie had shown herself a most able assistant. At his direction she had found, gathered, and dried the weed which, mixed in 158 The Sword of Justice Manuel's tobacco, would insure to him for this night a heavy drugged sleep. How cleverly she had planned, with her little gift of a leather pouch of her own making, to mix the weed with the tobacco, at the same time cajoling Manuel into good humor ! If she but remem- bered the bed cords both of them and if she could indeed bind them firmly together as she confessed; and the knots, would she fail to tie them as he directed? Suppose, after all, the rope proved not stout enough to bear their combined weight. The cold sweat started out on him at the mere thought. Thank God ! the Spaniards still believed him to be unable to walk, and this with his six weeks of passive good behavior had lulled them to relax their vigilance, so that only one guard slept in the room without. To-night it was Manuel with his new gift well filled with drugged tobacco. The night was moonless, and from the fitful patter of drops on the thatch he guessed it to be overcast and stormy. The tide would be out before midnight. Everything was as it should be, if only he, Pierre, did not die of old age before the long-waited-for moment arrived. A rasping snort startled his meditations and quickened all his faculties to painful alertness. Could this be the hour; was this Eugenie coming; but why that curious noise? It sounded again and again, louder now and more prolonged. He sent up a quick thanksgiving The Sword of Justice 159 to heaven. There was no mistaking, it was Manuel's snore, and it testified to the efficacy of Eugenie's work. Pierre crept to the door, his moccasined feet making no noise as he moved. His ear against the rough timbers, he listened with gladness to the ever-increasing volume, rasping and roaring from the room beyond. A sudden ugly thought struck him. Suppose Manuel had smoked more heavily than usual to-night then but herewith an effort, he persistently put the rest of the thought from him. He was facing too many realities, to have need of conjuring up possibilities for which there was no help. He went back to his bed again and took up the unbroken weariness of waiting another hour. It seemed ages to him since he last heard the sound of a banging door or the voices of soldiers on the parade. The sen- tries on the rampart had been changed; he had heard the relief tramp by so long ago it was in fact not more than half an hour. The wind was dashing little gusty showers of patter- ing drops on the roof, stirring the dried thatch like the crawling of myriad living things. O God! if a heavy storm should be rising what then By this time he had reached a condition in which he felt that his overstrained nerves could bear no more, that if he did not soon hear that waited-for sound, he would raise his voice in 1 60 The Sword of Justice a yell of madness which would waken every sleeper within the Fort, even deeply drugged Manuel. When this mood passed, as it did after a time, it left him feeling weak but less impatient : nor did his restlessness have time to gather again, for he presently heard a soft little noise, so slight as to be only perceptible to alert fac- ulties, then the grating of the key in its turning, followed by a screak which bespoke a stealthily opened door. Pierre was on his feet and across the cell in an instant. He heard the girl softly breathe " Pierre," and answered by his out- stretched hand, which in the darkness came in contact with her silky hair. " The rope," he whispered eagerly, and soon their groping hands had met and transferred the burden which she bore into his keeping. Slipping his hand hastily over the coil he realized, with a throb of satisfaction, that it was heavier than she had led him to suppose, and that she had obeyed him faithfully as to its knotting. Noiselessly they made their way past snoring Manuel, and out of the door. Pierre's lungs expanded with deep satisfac- tion in that first draught of free air which he had drawn for six weeks. A light shower of drops kissed his face ; he threw back his head in joy at their damp, familiar touch. Hands clasped, hearts full of fear, they crept The Sword of Justice 161 across the parade trusting to the blackness to cover them. Unfortunately, Olotoraca's war party had had the effect of alarming the peace- ful security of the Spaniards, causing them to keep a more faithful watch on the rampart than they had done for some time past. Knowing this, Pierre had realized the hopeless- ness of escape from any point except that of the north, or river side. This necessitated for them, not only a sheer drop of about thirty feet from the top of the palisade to the narrow beach beside the river, but the still further danger of climbing the palisade directly in the rear of the quarters which ran in one contin- uous building along the north side of the triangle. Stepping softly, scarcely daring to breathe, they crossed the parade, skirted the comman- dant's house, and, passing behind the barracks, reached their destination unchallenged. With a silent prayer to heaven to send heavy slumber on all within the walls of San Mateo, Pierre set quickly about his task, the first part of which was to get his comrade safely on top of the palisade. Fortunately, this not being very high, it was accomplished at last with much assistance from Pierre, and a good deal of grim determination on the part of Eugenie. He also had gained the top, and was beginning the critical task of unwinding and making fast his rope, when, clattering merrily against each ii 1 62 The Sword of Justice other as they went, tumbled the girl's wooden sabots, which she had fastened on a string and thrown across her neck, the better to carry them. " My sabots," exclaimed Eugenie, even in her fright realizing the seriousness of her loss. " Hush-sh," breathed Pierre, his heart stand- ing still as that, to him, deafening sound smote the silence. Scarcely daring to move lest some sleeper had been startled to wakefulness, he waited breathlessly, expecting each minute that a hue and cry would be raised and their depar- ture discovered. When nothing further occurred, he gathered courage and went hurriedly on with his work. He uncoiled the rope, and making a slip knot dropped it over one of the stout timbers, testing its firmness with a strong jerk. He comforted himself with the thought that a thirty-foot fall on a soft muddy bank, did not mean death or indeed much beyond a heavy jar in case the rope gave way. Leaning toward the girl in the darkness he touched her face and drew it to him. " Eugenie," he whispered, "are you ready?" He heard her softly breathed 'yes/ and realized that she was trembling at the thought of what lay before her, but she made no motion to draw back, and he experienced a sense of relief in this. Edging himself carefully about, he succeeded in getting his back toward her. The Sword of Justice 163 " Put your arms about my body, clasp them tight, and hold on for your life," he commanded in a whisper. He felt her obey him. Then, gripping the rope, he slipped from his sitting position and swung out. He heard the complaining ' screak ' which the rope gave at the moment of receiving their combined weight, but he had no time now for fears as to its stoutness. Every energy of mind and body was concentrated on keeping a firm hold with the one hand, while the other sought and gripped the next knot. His great- est fear was for Eugenie, that her arms might prove too weak to bear her suspended body for the necessary length of time. Down they dropped, hand under hand, the girl's arms straining tighter with each fall, her fears ever increasing and the earth seeming to recede. At length his groping hand found nothing to catch. He slipped it close to the knot which he was holding and slid it swiftly down. They were at the rope's end, and still his reaching feet could not feel ground beneath him. How far was it? How great the drop which they must take ? If it were one foot or a hundred it must be taken, for his aching arms were no longer able to bear the burden imposed upon them. " Eugenie," he said, " we have reached the rope's end, but not the earth. It cannot be far distant, and you must drop. Try to jump a 1 64 The Sword of Justice little clear of me so that I may not cause you hurt. Ready now at once." And again the girl obeyed promptly and unquestioningly. The fall was not over two yards at greatest, and Pierre lit squarely on his feet, with no other discomfort than a sharp twinge in his newly healed wound, caused by the sudden jar. Eug6nie, in her effort to jump free from him, had overbalanced herself and tumbled in a heap from which she was slowly extricating herself, uncertain yet if she were unhurt or no. Her silence frightened Pierre who called her softly, and began to grope for her with outstretched hands. She heard the note of fear in his voice and answered quickly, scrambling from her muddy seat, her skirts clinging damp and uncomfortably about her. They met in the darkness, and for a brief instant were close clasped in each other's arms, both hearts send- ing up a silent thanksgiving for the first suc- cessful step in their undertaking. Realizing in an instant how near to danger they still lingered, they hastily turned their faces down the river, and hand in hand set out to find the spot where Pierre's canoe lay con- cealed, some two miles below, in a little bayou ; the dense growth of water weeds giving it perfect hiding. He remembered thankfully, as they made their way, not without discomfort, over the rough shells which strewed the water's edge, The Sword of Justice 165 that before dawn the rising tide would have swept out all traces of their footsteps. They had gone almost a mile when Eugenie's hand began to drag in his own, and he felt the lagging of her weary little body. He dared not give way to this, though his heart smote him as he hurried her along; time meant every- thing to them now. After a little the girl stopped and in a voice that she vainly tried to keep from tears, ex- claimed, " Let me rest but a little, Pierre ; the shells hurt me cruelly." The boy stood still, a cry of pity breaking from him. He remembered suddenly that she had no protection for her feet save the worn, torn little cloth stockings. " Poor little one," he murmured, remorsefully, "I was forgetting the lost sabots ; I am but a heartless savage." Even as he spoke he was working and tugging with all his might at the buckskin shirt which he wore, and from it he succeeded, after a bit, in tearing two strips of skin. Slipping off his own moccasins, either of which was large enough to accommodate two of her little feet, he kneeled before her and put them on, his heart aching, as he touched the ragged stockings to think how much she had suffered in this past mile. With the leather thongs he made shift to bind them about her insteps. This would give her a little protection. Then, almost grudging the time necessary for this act of humanity, he 1 66 The Sword of Justice caught her hand once more and they pressed on in the deepening darkness. The first little glimmer of light was beginning to make its way on the dense blackness, when they at last reached the bayou where Pierre had hidden his canoe. All their hopes depended now upon its hav- ing been left unmolested, and the boy's heart was beating excitedly, as bidding his companion wait his return, he plunged into the water and swam out with long graceful strokes toward the spot on the other side where in a thick growth of weeds the canoe ought to be. Six weeks in this land of luxuriant growth had so changed the aspect of the spot, that he had a long search, and was beginning to lose heart before he discovered the friendly prow deep under the great leaves. Even then he was obliged, before he could claim his own, to summarily dispossess a water-rat that set up housekeeping in it. Swimming and pushing the canoe ahead of him, he made his way swiftly to where Eugenie was standing, eagerly expectant. Having beached his bark almost at her feet, he drew himself from the water and shook the drops from his clothes as if he was some great water animal. He lifted and seated her in the prow, and took his position. In an instant the canoe shot out into the water, straight as an arrow from an Indian bow, and turned toward the mouth of the little bayou. . The Sword of Justice 167 Shortly they were in the St. John's, making their way more slowly now, for they were go- ing against the incoming tide. Pierre was ex- erting all his strength, his stroke was strong and full, and the muscles played back and forth in his arms like steel withes. The early morning sun, at its rising, turned the drops from his fast dipping blade into glittering jewels, and the soft kiss, kiss, of the lapping water against the canoe side, made a lulling song for the tired girl, who, slipped down in the bottom of the boat, lay curled up, sleeping the sleep of utter exhaustion. At San Mateo a loosely flapping rope and a pair of tiny, worn sabots at the foot of the pali- sade told their tale of the escape to the excited inhabitants, who were gathered in knots discuss- ing it. 1 68 The Sword of Justice CHAPTER XIV THE noon sun glaring hotly down on the river, found Pierre still paddling with a swift steadi- ness, which told how he valued each passing minute. They had turned from the river into the inlet, keeping well in shore for the little shade which the overhanging trees afforded. It was flood-tide, and he no longer had its incom- ing force to resist him ; despite this, he was showing fatigue. He was sweating at every pore and the buckskin shirt seemed an unbear- able burden. Eugenie was awake at last. She had slept long and restfully in spite of her cramped posi- tion. She opened her sleepy eyes at length to find Pierre gazing at her with a look of infinite tenderness, which gave his face a deeper manli- ness. He was taking his new responsibility with a seriousness hardly to be expected in one so young. Already he faced the future with many misgivings as to how the young girl would be able to bear the savage existence into which he was bearing her. She on the other hand, was tormented with no such doubts, and now that the perils of the The Sword of Justice 169 night were safely passed, her buoyant spirit leaped up as a child's, and she was inclined to regard the whole adventure as the beginning of a long and delightful picnic. And so after unclosing her eyes and basking contentedly for a moment in the love shining in Pierre's gaze, she closed them again, accepting the love merely as a part of the general good of sunshine, free- dom, and fresh air. Nature had satisfied herself, however, and sleep refused to come again; which being so, the girl soon uncoiled herself from her resting- place and sat up, feeling as she moved, strangely stiff and uncomfortable. She dipped her hands into the cool water and dashed it into her face, and having dried hands and face on her apron announced that she was hungry. Pierre shook his head with decision. " The fox must gnaw for a time longer," he said ; " I dare not pause now for food." At this, Eugenie, with a little gurgle of tri- umphant laughter produced from a capacious pocket part of a loaf of black bread, which she held aloft before him, enjoying his look of surprise. " All for me," she announced, tapping herself lightly on the breast; " none for you." Entering into her childish play he made a great pretence of disappointment, and called her " Petite cochon," and other names made familiar from use in their childish disputes. 1 70 The Sword of Justice This brought a swift change, for she thought that he had indeed taken her seriously. Hold- ing the bread out to him she cried " Nay, Pierre, I would not touch a crumb of it. I brought it all for you," and her generous little heart leaped into her shining eyes and gave ample confirma- tion of the truth of her assertion. " Why, little heart, I only jested. I would not take a crumb of it for the universe," he pro- tested, touched by the look upon her face. "Then I will cast it into the water," she threatened, even holding it aloft for the fling, when his sudden sharp command stayed her. " Eugenie, you must not, you do not know what you do. Child," he continued more gently, seeing the sudden look of fright which flashed into her face at the sharpness of his tone, " you are possibly flinging away from you life itself." "Why? Will we not soon be with the In- dians and will they not give us food ? " she questioned in amazement. " We are still a great way from the lodge of Satouriona, and only the good God knows what lies between. Keep the bread jealously, and thank Providence for it." " Nay, then, I will thank myself, since it is I who thought to bring it. 'T was not the good God who stole it from the cupboard of that black Spanish woman, whom I hate ; 't was I my- self," returned Eugenie na'fvely, and Pierre The Sword of Justice 171 offering no objection to this settlement of the question, silence fell for a little while until Eugenie's cheerful spirit bubbled up once more in happy chatter of all that passed around her. But after a time, even she, who was so little observant, could not but take notice of the fact that Pierre spoke little and then in bated under- tone, as if he listened to catch a sound. Oft- times he paused, ostensibly to rest for a mom- ent, but his head was slightly bent and into his eyes would creep the intent look of one who listens for distant noises. " To what do you hearken, Pierre," she asked at length, beginning to grow vaguely uneasy. He started quickly at her question and hastily resumed his paddle. " It is but an Indian habit," he answered as lightly as possible, trying to smile away her growing uneasiness. So far, the thought of pursuit had not seemed to occur to her, and he preferred that it should not. To her mind the danger was over and nothing remained but a picnic canoe trip, with a long tramp at the end, then safety and happiness among the Indians. It was an hour or more before her mind was disabused of this idea, and through all that hour Pierre had intermittently kept up his Indian trick of listening ; at length in one of the pauses she saw a sudden fierce light leap into his eye, and the line of his lips come together straightly, while his jaw set like steel. 172 The Sword of Jiistice In an instant the canoe's prow was turned to the bank and a few quick strong strokes had beached it He lifted the girl out before she had time to move or question. When she gained her feet she found her tongue also. " What is it," she asked ; " why do we stop ? " " Go up the bank quickly ; hide in the bushes until I come ; " and even as he spoke, he lifted the light canoe from the water and shouldered it. "But, Pierre, what is it? I heard no noise," she was beginning to expostulate when his quick word of command, uttered now in a tone there was no denying, started her feet obediently if reluctantly after him. She found a clump of dense undergrowth then and seated herself discontentedly on the ground, while Pierre concealed the dripping canoe in the bushes and tearing off a small branch on the nearby tree, ran down to the water's edge again. He dipped the branch in until it was heavy with moisture and drew it over the soft earth, obliterating as well as he could the tracks of their feet; then he threw away his bough and sought the spot where Eugenie was hidden. At last he told her why he was there. The wind was blowing from the south and it had borne to him distinctly the sound of human voices. She had not heard them, for her ear lacked the delicacy which his savage life had The Sword of Justice 173 engendered in him. Nor was she altogether willing to believe him, but instead thought that he had taken unnecessary alarm, an idea which grew and increased as the minutes passed bringing no sign of pursuers. She was just about to utter her triumphant little laugh, and begin in woman fashion to tease him for his fears when she too heard a sound, and it was the kiss, kiss, kiss, of a paddle in the water. In an instant all her pretty mock- ery had fled and she was crouching, white- faced and trembling, gripping Pierre's hand for comfort, and expecting God knows what. Soon she heard the dip of another paddle, and a third, and then it seemed to her fright- ened ears as if a myriad of blades dipped and kissed the water. Their course was close in- shore even as Pierre's had been, and soon they swept along, so near that a few words in Span- ish floated to his ears. Now they were passing directly in front of them. Pierre's heart stood still with fear; would they notice his clumsy attempt to obliterate the trail. No, they swept by unheeding, while a feeling of contempt for their woodcraft, mingled with a tide of relief which flowed over the young Frenchman. "Why, not an Indian babe in the village of Satouriona would have missed that mark going so near it as did these," he thought. When the sound of the receding paddles told Pierre that his enemies had passed by a little 1 74 The Sword of Justice distance, he ventured to raise himself and peer cautiously through an opening in the bush. The first canoe held Perez and Philippe de Lavalatte, both paddling; the two others con- tained four Spanish soldiers. The lad's heart grew heavy at sight of those two in the foremost canoe. He knew of Perez's infatuation for Eug6nie, he realized why Lava- latte was of the party, and he felt that the com- bination boded little good, since it insured the search being something more than a mere per- functory obedience to command. When the Spaniards had been out of sight for some time, Pierre ventured to move from his hiding-place and set about finding something on which to stay their clamoring appetites. By this time Eugenie's bounding spirits had come back to their wonted cheerfulness. " Now we are safe," she declared joyously, " for when they do not find us, they will turn back to the Fort and think that the wild beasts have de- voured us." Pierre made no answer; he had no such happy assurance. Nor indeed would Eugenie, had it been given her to overhear a conversa- tion which took place between the young Span- iard and the commandant only that morning before the searching party started out. " And if I bring the girl again to the Fort, Senor commandant, may I have her to wife?" the young man questioned, standing erect be- The Sword of Justice 175 fore his superior officer with a look on his face which promised ill for the fugitives. The older officer hesitated : " No," he said at length, " but if you also bring the man you shall have the wench." " I will bring him," answered Perez grimly, and, saluting, he turned away. 1 76 The Sword of Justice CHAPTER XV THE enemy were fairly out of sight before Pierre deemed it safe to move. He announced to his companion that they would eat and re- fresh themselves before going on. At this Eugenie showed distinct signs of approval, and again produced the black bread over which they had disputed in the morning. Dividing it into two portions she tried to coax Pierre to share it with her, but this he sternly refused to do. Leaving her for a little, he presently returned with some roots and a few early ber- ries temptingly arranged on a cool green leaf. These last were added to Eugenie's meal of black bread, while Pierre contentedly gnawed the roots, being well used to such fare in his forest roaming. After that he shouldered his canoe, carried it down the bank and having launched it seated the girl once more and resumed his paddling. There were at that time on the coast of Florida, a number of inlets, two of which had their openings not far above the mouth of the St. John's River. These joined each other, and broke into the river about two, or two and one The Sword of Justice 177 half miles above its mouth, thus forming a con- tinuous inland passage along the coast almost to the very village of Satouriona. Not quite half the distance from the St John's to this village, the waters of another river, probably the Nassau, emptied into the inlet in two small streams which flowed on either side of an island which lay at its mouth. It was upon this island that Pierre had landed to hide, and a more fortunate spot he could scarcely have chosen for himself, as it was in some sort the meeting of the ways. The Spaniards having kept the straight course up the inlet it remained for him to skirt the island, pass into the Nassau and proceed as far as the river kept in his direction, then land and make his way on foot through the forest to the Indian village. All this he explained to the girl, who readily assented, as she would have done to any plan which he proposed, so great had become her faith in his wisdom and ability. They set forward again, Pierre paddling with a steady dogged determination that refused to give way to the weariness which was coming now to possess his whole overstrained body. The six weeks' confinement had told on him greatly and he chafed against the restraint which his complaining muscles imposed upon him. Eugenie too, was growing weary now of the monotony of the trip ; the close tangle of luxu- 178 The Sword of Justice riant vegetation growing down even to the water's edge, the low overhanging branches bearded in the sombre gray moss which kept a ghostly motion in the breeze, the twilight dim- ness of this aisle of green through which they passed, ceased to amuse her after a little, more especially as Pierre was grave and taciturn, and would not laugh at her happy chatter, but gave her only a slow absent smile from time to time. Before night had entirely come they landed again, and Pierre drew the canoe from the water and sought an open spot free from the tangle of vine and underbrush. Here under the shelter of a tree he deposited the boat. He found a few berries to help out Eugenie's poor supper and contented himself again with roots. After this he gathered armfuls of Span- ish moss and filled the canoe with it. Into this springy bed he bade Eugenie crawl while he covered her with more moss to keep out the night chill. The light was almost entirely gone when this was accomplished. " You will not go far, Pierre ? " the girl questioned timidly, seeing him turn away. " No dear, I shall sit here against this tree and watch through the night. Sleep well and have no fear." She was not satisfied. He had not kissed her good-night ; indeed through all the day he had not offered her one fleeting little caress, The Sword of Justice 1 79 and her heart grew heavy for thinking that may- be she was a burden to him and that he regretted her coming. She caught his hand and drew him back, and down, until one of his long black Indian locks which had loosened itself brushed her cheek. "What have I done, Pierre, do you not love me any longer? " she questioned tearfully. He gathered the warm little body in his arms and held it an instant against his beating heart while he answered " As my very life, dear," in a tone so convincing as to bring rest to her vague suspicions. Then he laid her back in her bed and drew the moss well up over her in snug comfort. Kissing her softly on the cheek he turned away. Satisfied and happy, she snuggled down in her warm nest, murmured a sleepy prayer and was soon oblivious to everything. Pierre seated nearby with his back against a tree a heavy piece of a broken branch lying across his knee the only available weapon tried to hold his weary senses together and keep watchful. This was not so difficult at first, for many thoughts thronged his mind. Most of them concerned the unconscious girl sleeping near, for he was facing a problem with regard to her, the outcome of which he could not see. After a time, however, thoughts of the future and the events of the day began to mix them- selves in strange fantastic confusion, and from the hazy land where nothing seemed distinct or 1 80 The Sword of Justice important, he would jerk himself periodically, dazed and miserable, feeling dimly that he had lapsed from his vigil. After a time this ceased, and his weary frame slid from the supporting tree trunk and settled on the ground in an un- comfortable heap, where it remained motionless, locked in the sleep of utter weariness. He aroused himself next morning to find Eugenie's teasing face bent above him, her eyes brimming with mischief, a long feathery bit of grass with which she had accomplished his awakening still held between her ringers. "Lazy one, to sleep until the sun is high," she reproved merrily. " Suppose Perez had found and run away with me. It would be but your deserts." Pierre struggled up from his uncomfortable bed, so stiff that he could scarcely move, his face blazing with a red flush of shame; his absolutely disconcerted look would have been funny had it not been so real. " I fear I must have lost myself for a little," he muttered, trying awkwardly to get to his feet. Eugenie, mocking, offered him her assistance, and the merry mischief in her face chased his chagrin happily away. He set about hunting breakfast as quickly as possible, for he felt that already too much precious time had been wasted. Soon the canoe was launched and they were on their way. About noon they reached the The Sword of Justice 1 8 1 point at which they were to set out by land, and here Pierre sought and found a hiding-place for his boat before he abandaned it. For the first time he noticed with some mis- givings that Eugenie's gray eyes were surrounded by dark shadowy circles, and that there were two little gaunt hollows showing in the perfect roundness of her cheeks. The last of the precious bread had disappeared into her hungry little stomach the night before, and she had made but a poor meal on the roots that were all he had been able to offer her for break- fast. She made no complaint, however, and set out cheerily trudging by his side, his big moc- casins still bound by the leather thongs over her instep to keep her from losing this last poor protection for her tender feet. Through all the afternoon they walked, some- times in the dim light of the dense pine forest whose ceaseless sorrowful murmur sounded like the restless sighing of the unhappy dead, some- times in open marshy spots where they had to step warily from one grass hummock to another and go carefully lest they find no solid resting- place. Oftenest, though, they walked through the stiff palmetto scrub which cut and scratched them cruelly and made their progress of neces- sity slow. They stopped to rest from time to time, for the girl was not able to keep up a very sus- tained effort, and, truth to tell, Pierre himself 1 8 2 The Sword of Justice was not sorry for these stops, for he found that his lately healed wound caused him a sense of great weakness in that leg and sometimes a sharp twinge of pain. It was toward evening when they reached a little stream, far too wide to leap, but whose pebbly bottom shone clear beneath. Pierre lifted the girl and stepped into the water. It was almost to his middle, and Eugenie was obliged to tuck her feet up well if she would keep them dry. Her arms were clinging about him, her whole body rested against him with the limp abandon of a child in its mother's clasp. Her cheek fitted itself into the hol- low against his neck, and he felt her soft breath on his face. His heart began to beat irregu- larly, he felt so keenly through every fibre of his being the dearness of the yielding burden which he carried ; all her innocent trust in him his heart understood, though his mind had never put it into words. There welled up in him such a rush of tenderness, that he longed to turn his face to hers and put a never-ending kiss upon her mouth. But he resolutely kept his face turned from her, and splashed sturdily through the water, hurrying a little, lest temptations proved too strong for him. Yet if you had asked him why he did not yield to this natural impulse, he would have faced you with honest, innocent, eyes, unable The Sword of Justice 183 to put his reasoning into words. He was only a young, healthy, clean-hearted human being, and in doing as he did, he but followed a heaven-born instinct which bade him for some mysterious reason restrain himself. When he set Eugenie upon her feet on the opposite bank, he heaved a great sigh of relief. Not understanding his feelings she questioned, "Was I so very heavy, Pierre?" For answer he only smiled, and shook his head. It was late at night before they reached the Indian village. Pierre hid the girl and went fonvard to reconnoitre carefully before attempt- ing to enter. He could see the gleaming light of Satouriona's lodge-fire far above on the hill, and he wondered at its late burning. All seemed quiet, however, so he returned for Eugenie. Standing before the gate of the palisade, Pierre knocked for admittance. "Who strikes the gate of the village?" ques- tioned the keeper from within. To which Pierre yielded ready answer in the Indian tongue. " Chepane, thy brother, open for me." Quickly the gate flew back. Even the stolid- ity of the Indian character was not proof against surprise, and this time joy mingled with it on recognizing Pierre. " The heart of our Father which has lain in 1 84 The Sword of Justice the dust this long time will be lifted up now," exclaimed the Indian joyfully, then, as the faint light from the fire revealed the figure of Eugdnie, he added, " And my brother has brought with him a squaw. It is well." Pierre scarcely paused to answer. Leading Eugenie by the hand, he passed amongst the darkened lodges and sought the path leading to the hill of the chieftain. When they had set foot on its narrow way, he put his arm about the girl who, now that the dangers of the forest were past, seemed to be shrinking back fear- fully before the entrance of the homes of these savage protectors. When they reached the top of the path both paused involuntarily. Before them lay the lodge of Satouriona, and from the open- ing the smoky light streamed out showing dim figures still clustered about the fire. On the quiet of the night sounded their harsh excited gutturals. Eugenie looked fearfully toward this rude scene and drew nearer to her companion. Then it was that he clasped her close in his arms, feeling her at last so utterly his own; then it was that he bent his face to hers and gave her a kiss, so long and so tender, that it -,vas like an act of consecration. The Sword of Justice 185 CHAPTER XVI I SHALL not dwell at any length on the joy of Satouriona at beholding his white son suddenly standing in the light of his lodge fire. Startled for an instant from their usual calm, believing that it was a spirit and not a man that they beheld, every Indian in the lodge sprang to his feet and stood transfixed with sudden supersti- tious fright. The sound of Pierre's voice, the touch of his hand, brought them swift reassur- ance, and if anything else had been needed to satisfy the doubting heart of the old chief, the sight of Eugenie, shrinking in fright behind Pierre's shoulder, supplied it. A fierce light of joy leaped suddenly into his eyes; with outstretched forefinger he pointed toward the frightened girl. " Now I know that the medi- cine talk of Helmacarpa is good. My white con hath taken a squaw from the lodges of his people. Soon, soon, will the canoes of the great white chief come to our shores: soon, soon, will they give us vengeance on our foes." He stood with head up and eyes which already seemed to gaze on the scenes of blood for which he thirsted, nor did he heed the more 1 86 The Sword of Justice demonstrative welcome accorded the wanderer by the younger and less self-restrained mem- bers of the lodge. If, however, Satouriona's sense of dignity did not permit him to openly express his joy at sight of the son of his heart, his eyes were not under such good training, and would have betrayed to any observer by their brightness, their look almost of tender- ness as they rested on Pierre, the happiness which the sight of him brought to the old heart. Nor is it necessary that I picture to you the wild excitement and curiosity among the squaws, caused by the appearance of Eugenie, when they were unceremoniously aroused from their sleep to admit her into their midst. The poor child, frightened at all these dark and, to her, sinister faces, clung to Pierre's hand, refusing to enter the hut, until after much argument and persuasion, together with the repeated assurance of the entire friendliness of the Indians. After she was left alone, sur- rounded by many pairs of staring curious eyes, hands that reached out and felt her clothes, her person, and her few poor ornaments, the while their tongues kept up a babble of cease- less chatter the strain of the situation was fast growing too much for overtired nerves. She was about to make a dash for freedom and Pierre, when the chief squaw of Satouriona, clapping her hands peremptorily, ordered them The Sword of Justice 187 to their beds. With those who lingered and seemed loth to obey, she enforced her au- thority by many heavy-handed blows which they dodged when they could and accepted without protest when they could not. When the brown crew had been successfully routed, the squaw with the authority of a mistress, pointed to a fresh pile of moss and a deer-skin robe, where the girl made haste to creep lest she, too, come in for a share of punishment. All night she lay sleepless and alert, starting at every sound, fearful she scarcely knew of what. Perhaps these savage women resented her presence in the lodge. If one of them should rise in the night and slay her, how could she protect herself. It was cruel of Pierre to have deserted her thus. So ran her thoughts, conjuring up horrors and fear- ful shapes even after the heavy breathing and chorus of snores told her that she alone waked. Still she lay trembling and miserable. When Pierre, having left her, returned to the great lodge, he was not slow in discovering the reason of their late waking and the unusual excitement. From the story of Satouriona and Olotoraca, he was able to come at a pretty fair idea of what had befallen his pursuers since last he saw them making their rapid way up the inlet all unconscious of his watchful eyes. They had evidently kept a straight course until just before reaching the Indian village, 1 88 The Sword of Justice when, disappointed in their hopes of overtak- ing the fugitives, they had landed, and skulked about in the woods trying to ascertain if pos- sible, whether Pierre and the girl were safe within the village, or if there was still hope of intercepting them somewhere in the woods. They were not in a position, on account of their limited numbers to offer hostilities, nor could they in the nature of things go peace- ably into the village and demand Pierre, know- ing as they did the attitude of the Indians towards them because of his capture and detention. It was while they lurked about trying to obtain information, that two of the braves spied them and raised the alarm which shortly brought the fighting portion of the village upon them in hot pursuit. The Spaniards fled, and took to their canoes, followed on shore by the Indians who hid behind trees and underbrush and sent a ceaseless flight of arrows after the swiftly retreating canoes. The Spanish had returned the fire, but to no purpose since the Indians kept to shelter. After having followed them as far as they deemed it wise, fearing that these few might be only decoys to draw them away from the village while the main body fell upon it, the braves turned back and left the Spaniards to go their way. They carried back with them the satisfaction of knowing that two of their The Sword of Justice 189 enemies were lying in the canoes helpless and possibly dead. That night Pierre slept the sound dreamless sleep of one who has suddenly laid down the burden of a heavy responsibility. The next morning early, he sought the lodge of the squaws to find Eugenie surrounded by the women, who had loosened her long, silky hair and were passing their hands over it, ex- claiming at its fineness, handling her, in fact, as a child does a doll, with just such free- dom from all restraint. " Pvchi Hvtki, 1 Pvchi Hvtki," they kept exclaiming to each other. Suddenly, seeing Pierre standing in the lodge opening, they began to laugh in shrill chorus, clapping their hands, then pointing to the girl, while they repeated with renewed vigor, " Pvchi Hvtki, Pvchi Hvtki." Pierre laughed, nodding an affirmative, and Eugenie, becoming aware for the first time of his nearness, broke away from the detaining hands about her and fled precipitately to his arms, which opened to receive her. She buried her face against his breast and he could feel her slight form shaking with frightened sobs. He held her close, his hand also beginning to stray amongst the loosened silk of her hair, while he murmured soothingly: " Nay, sweetheart, surely you are not fright- ened. They would do you no harm, and only 1 V pronounced like short u. 1 90 The Sword of Justice admire your beauty. They have already bestowed on you a new name, ' Pvchi Hvtki,' ' White Pigeon.' 'Tis a dear little name and suits you well." Saying which he raised the face hidden against his breast and kissed it tenderly. " Ugh ! " Pierre started at the sound of the disapproving guttural close behind him. He turned in time to catch the disgusted look in the steady glance which Satouriona bent on them. " Ugh," grunted the old chief again ; then in a tone of disapproval, " Why does my white son rub his face against the face of his squaw? " Eug6nie, though not understanding his words, comprehended dimly that something was amiss and stood beside Pierre abashed and unhappy. As for the young Frenchman, he was divided between amusement and vexation at his utter inability to convey even dimly to the mind of the savage the meaning of the little act which he questioned. Seeing that no answer to his inquiry was forth- coming the old warrior continued : " Listen to thy father. Let not the breath of thy squaw be often breathed upon thee, unless thou wouldst have thy heart to be soft even as a squaw's heart, and thou come after a time to be but a squaw man." The Sword of Justice 191 CHAPTER XVII AFTER the first strangeness had worn away, Eugenie began quickly to adjust herself to her surroundings, and little by little to over- come her fear of the Indians. She soon real- ized that they felt towards her only kindness. Then she slowly awakened to a new interest in things about her, and made little attempts to conquer this strange harsh speech which smote her ears constantly and to whose mean- ing she was entirely deaf. She managed to establish a very imperfect mode of communi- cation by means of signs and gestures; from this she progressed to the next step, that of pointing to objects and when the Indian word for them was given, repeating it over and over until she had conquered and held it fast in her memory. With the children she made quick friends. It was one of her chief amusements to try and coax the dull-faced little papooses, lashed to their mother's backs, or hanging uncom- plainingly from a peg in the lodge, into the baby laughter of which these solemn-faced mites seemed to have no faintest knowledge. 1 92 The Sword of Justice They would stare with round, black, unblink- ing eyes, at all her pretty antics, and seem by their dignified gaze to rebuke her unseemly conduct. On one occasion Pierre found her before the lodge of Olotoraca's squaw, frolicking with little Natara. 1 The child's mother was standing near looking down upon them with kindly sympathy in her gaze. Catching sight of Pierre, the woman said with a smile, " By and by Pvchi Hvtki will have papooses of her own. Then will she know joy." "What does she say of me? " inquired Eugenie, quickly catching the sound of her Indian name in the woman's speech. Pierre looked down on the sweet face raised up to his. He flushed a little as he gave her a somewhat free translation of the Indian woman's words. " She says that by and by the White Pigeon will grow used to Indian ways and be happy." "Ask her, Pierre, why she calls the boy Natara," inquired Euge'nie, looking toward the sturdy little brown creature who had deserted his playfellow, and having toddled to his mother, stood with head pressed against her knee. Hearing the white girl's question, the woman smiled genially, showing a mouth full of regular shining teeth. " Because he like, all time, to play in dirt," she answered, 1 Dirt-dauber. The Sword of Jits tice 193 pressing the small black head lovingly against her. As time passed on the Indian women liked the French girl none the less because she did not wish to remain idle. She was quick to learn, under their tuition, the making of moccasins and the fashioning of the buckskin clothing worn by the tribe during the winter months. She even insisted upon bearing some part in their field labours, though in this they accorded her the lighter tasks of planting or weeding, rather than that of ploughing. So for a time she was happy, in spite of her savage surroundings, for love was growing daily in her heart, making bare existence a joy. Then a little cloud began to dim the bright- ness of her life, and the girl was not slow to see that something was amiss, though what, she was far from guessing. Within a few days of their arrival at the Indian village Satouriona had caused a new lodge to be erected in the group on the hill. When it was completed he signified to the aston- ished Pierre that it was intended for his use and he was expected to take his squaw to it. Utterly at a loss, Pierre tried to explain to the chief that Euge'nie was not his squaw. " Then why have you borne her to the home of your people? Why do you rub your face against hers? " questioned the uncompromising old man. 1 94 The Sword of Justice " I brought her to my father's house because I hoped one day to make her my squaw," the young man explained. " Then take her to your lodge," he com- manded, as if in settlement of the difficulty. " My father does not understand. The cus- toms of my people are not as the customs of his tribe. We do not take a squaw to our lodge fire until a medicine man has said charm words over us, so that we may do no evil," ex- claimed Pierre. " Helmacarpa, he is a great medicine man, he will say charm words over my white son, then shall he take his squaw to the lodge pre- pared for him." The chief's words were nicely balanced between a question and a command. Pierre wrung his hands helplessly, but he found no words with which to convince the chief of the Tightness of his attitude. In the end he was obliged to fall back on a simple refusal to accede to his commands. At this, Satouriona's brows came together in a black frown of disapproval. "The white man's way is an evil way," he announced, with decision, " he takes a squaw, he puts her away from him, he does not send her back to her people, he makes her to stay and bear dishonor among the tribe." But Pierre still remained obstinate and there the matter rested. Some time had elapsed before the lad began The Sword of Justice 195 to notice that a change had come over the women with regard to the white girl. Eugenie had known of this change long before, and her first vague wonder had passed through many stages, until it reached abject, miserable fear. Now, instead of admiration and service, she received harsh commands, scowling looks, avoidance, and sometimes even blows. When she could contain herself no longer, she ap- pealed to Pierre for explanation. The state of things once unfolded before his astonished mind, his anger passed bounds. It took him quickly into the presence of the chief, where in burning words he poured out his com- plaint and demanded punishment for the women who had so persecuted Eugenie. Through all his impassioned recital the chief smoked with perfect indifference, not showing by the movement of an eyelash, that he heard the hot words poured into his ear. Pierre having ceased at length for want of breath, Satouriona took his pipe from his mouth, and, after a deliberate pause, not even turning his head, said, " If the woman hath committed wrong, and Chepane, her lord, has put her away because of it, let her bear the h'eavy hand on her back. It is right. But if the woman hath done nothing amiss, then the wrong lies with her lord, who has put her away without cause ; he alone can right it." Satouriona delivered this speech as if it were 1 96 The Sword of Justice a final judgment, which admitted of no appeal or argument, and as Pierre made his way out of the lodge, he was beginning at last to see clearly, what many another has learned through hard circumstance, the utter futility of trying to beat against the customs and prejudices of a prim- itive people. For an hour after this he roamed the woods and thought. He struggled to see some way out of his difficult position. He could not, single-handed, fight the whole tribe into sub- mission to his ideas, though in his hot youth, this is what he most desired to do. When he returned to the village again he was as far as ever from any solution of his diffi- culty. He sought Eugenie; he had left her, vowing vengeance and promising swift redress for her unhappy condition. He shrank from facing her now, loathing himself for his help- lessness. Which way could he turn? What comfort could he offer? He found her behind one of the huts, crouched down with her head on her knees weeping bitterly. Some trouble had befallen during his little absence, for she carried the red mark of a blow on her cheek. From within the squaws' lodge he could hear the fierce, excited talk which bespoke a discussion of importance going forward. At the sound of her name, Eugenie did not look up but continued to sob on in a heart- The Sword of Justice 197 broken way, which racked poor Pierre and made him feel as if in some vague way he was entirely to blame for the unhappy state of affairs. He seated himself beside her, and taking her hand in his began to fondle it gently, waiting until the paroxysm of grief had spent itself. After a time the sobs grew less and less, and finally ceased. Raising her head she dried her eyes and drew closer to Pierre for comfort. " Take me away, Pierre,"" she whispered, her pleading eyes speaking even more eloquently than her tongue. "Take me into the forest again and we will live on roots and berries, and I will not give you trouble. I cannot bear it longer, here." The look of hope died in her eyes as she saw the decided negative of Pierre's head. " I dare not, my love," he answered softly, " you would suffer too great hardship, besides being in danger of the Spanish as well. I dare not." " Why do they serve me so ill, Pierre? I have done naught to injure or try them," she ques- tioned abjectly, after a little time. Here, at last, he faced the question which he had so dreaded. It found him as unprepared as if he had not given an hour's hard thinking to it. There was a long silence, then he began, hesitating and stammering, looking away from the calm gray eyes that were fixed on him. "The Indians think that that I should take you to my lodge to be with me " 198 The Sword of Justice Before he could make an end of his speech, she had sprung to her feet, joy lighting her changing face and chasing all the pained misery from her eyes. "Oh, Pierre! do they could you may I come and be with you, where no one will hurt me? " Her eager questions tumbled over each other in their desire for utterance. It was the man's turn now to drop his head in his hands, which he did with something like a groan. " Do not tempt me, Eugenie ; I am but a man, and I fear myself," he exclaimed, almost harshly. A look of wonder came into the young face above him. She seemed to ponder his words a minute trying to draw out the full measure of their meaning. It was evident that she failed, for she shook her head as if giving the matter up. Bending, she took her lover's face between her hands and turned it up until their eyes were gazing deep into each other. He saw the pure gray depths of hers which mirrored only won- der, and he heard her say with a trust whose infinite sweetness smote him like a pain, " Why do you fear, Pierre? I have no fear of you." In an instant he was kneeling before her, both her hands clasped in his, his head thrown back, a radiant look lighting his clear handsome face. " My beloved," he whispered, " I have been an evil, selfish brute to let you suffer because I dared not play the man. Come to me, for you The Sword of Justice \ 99 need not fear me," and then he bent his head and clasped her two soft hands over his eyes, and knelt so for a long minute, and in his heart he vowed himself anew to her protection, and now he added, " Even from myself." The setting sun sent out a long shaft of gold which rested across his bowed figure like a sword of light, as if a great invisible hand had given him the accolade. Arise Sir Pierre Debre\ true knight and val- iant soldier, for in conquering your own weak- ness, you have conquered man's greatest foe. 2OO The Sword of Justice CHAPTER XVIII WHEN Pierre stood before Satouriona again, he found him almost as he had left him more than an hour before, still smoking. The chief passed his eyes slowly over the young figure drawn up before him, and something in the serious face held his gaze. His eyes questioned the boy, though his lips uttered no word. " I come to say, my father, that it shall be as you desire. To-morrow I will bear my squaw, Pvchi Hvtki, to my lodge, there to dwell with her." The chief removed the pipe from his mouth and sent a cloud of hazy smoke like a curtain before his face. His eyes looked out from this dimness with a gleam of satisfaction which his indifferent tone did not betray. " Chepane at last speaks words of wisdom. It shall be as he says and good will come to him because of it." And when the young man left him again he let a feeling of unmixed satis- faction possess him. Doubtless, you will wonder why this question of the taking or leaving a squaw should have given the chief one moment's thought. To be The Sword of Justice 201 sure, the putting away of a woman taken from another tribe, by their customs necessitated the sending of this woman back to her own kin- dred, since, having failed to please her lord, the tribe of her husband no longer felt it incum- bent upon them to charge themselves with her maintenance. It was this motive that had moved the women to their ill-treatment of the girl, though with it was mingled a wonder as to what could be the offence for which she had been put aside, almost as soon as taken. But other reasons than these weighed with the chief, who pondered much and waited impatiently, for the fulfilment of Helmacarpa's prophecy. " Your white son will take a squaw from among his own people and will dwell with her until he departs to his own land." This being part of the same prophecy which promised deliverance from the Spanish and vengeance for past wrongs, Satouriona had rejoiced greatly at the appearance of Eugenie ; she being to him an earnest of the fulfilment of the entire prediction. If, after having taken his squaw, Pierre failed to dwell with her as Helmacarpa had said, might not this in some way serve to break the charm and fail to bring the deliverance for which he so deeply longed. He now summoned his chief wife, and told her of his white son's decision, and commanded that she and all the women henceforth treat 202 The Sword of Justice Pvchi Hvtki with kindness, if they wished not to feel his heavy hand on their backs. The next day was one of preparation for Pierre ; for now that he had yielded himself to the inevitable, he entered into the spirit of his Indian marriage. All day long, as he brought green boughs and turned the inside of his lodge into a bower, or gathered moss to make a soft bed for the tender little body which was to occupy it, strange sweet thrills of joy shot through him at the thought of so soon taking her into his own care. He had sent her, according to the custom of the Indians, a present of a suit of finest buckskin clothing. Now he waited her coming beside the door of his lodge, his brown body rubbed to satin-smoothness with nut oil, his choicest braveries of collar and belt about his neck and middle, on his head a new-made crest of white heron's feathers. Eugenie in the lodge of the squaws was being arrayed for her marriage. At last, after what seemed to his impatience a very long waiting, he saw the little procession issue from the women's lodge and take their way across the open space toward his hut. In an instant he was on his feet, all his soul in his eyes as he watched the coming of the woman he loved. He saw her drawing nearer, preceded by two young Indian lads blowing shrilly on their reed pipes, followed by a group of the young The Sword of Justice 203 squaws and half-grown girls, while the older women stood back and watched with curious eyes to see their meeting. They had arrayed her in the buckskin suit of his sending, and from her tiny moccasins, her fringed leggings which fastened just below the knee, to her short skirt and loose buckskin sacque, she was Indian in dress. Each of the women had lent of her best in armlets, and necklaces, of beads and shells; these hung so thick about her neck dropping even to her waist, that they seemed to form a sort of breast- plate. Her soft blue-black hair was loosened and hung to its shimmering length behind her. To the ornaments of the Indians were added a wreath of white blossoms which she had woven together, and with which she had crowned her- self. A look of childlike interest and amuse- ment at this, which seems a sort of play to her, was fighting on her face with a vague thought that maybe something of seriousness lay back of it all. This was the picture that held his eyes, as he stood beside his lodge waiting her coming. To wait as he should until her feet had crossed the little distance between them seemed more than he had strength for. With head erect, the very picture of strength and youth, he went toward her. He passed between the two shrilly piping musicians, and stood an instant in her path looking down upon her, 204 The Sword of Justice then, stooping, he lifted her in his arms and holding her against his shoulder, he strode back to the lodge, entered it, and dropped the straw mat over the opening. Then he set the two little moccasined feet to the earth again and stood before her. " See," she exclaimed, patting her buckskin sacque and laughing softly, " I am Pvchi Hvtki. I am Indian even as you." Unutterable thoughts were beating up in his soul striving to find vent in speech. He felt a choking sensation in the throat as if the rush of thronging words were suffocating him. If he could coin his very soul into one expression, which would tell her all that he would do, and refrain, for her dear sake; that is what he longed to do, but speech would not come. Bending, he lifted her from the earth again, and held her against him in an embrace which, in its strength and tenderness, seemed to say all that mere words refused to express. That night Eugenie slept like a happy child in her moss bed, tears of thankful joy but newly dried on her cheek, while across the lodge opening, rolled in his deerskin robe lay Pierre, guarding her alike from foes within and without. The week which followed Eugenie's coming to Pierre's lodge was an idyl. To the girl, still so much a child in thought and feeling, it was The Sword of Justice 205 a long-continued play. The little tasks of cook- ing and ordering her green-boughed household, were like a child's housekeeping in a home of its own building in a corner of a yard. The boy also entered into the spirit of the play, and two happier children did not exist than these, in that brief week before the storm caught them again in its grasp. Pierre hunted much in these days, for the poor fare of boiled cracked corn was not very palatable to Eugenie. From these expeditions he returned to find her always watching for him with anxious eyes; for she would grow strangely uneasy, if he remained long away. After one such roving in which he had wan- dered farther than usual, he returned to the village to find no sweet anxious face looking out for him. The emptiness of the lodge smote him like a blow. He began an instant search. From the excited squaws he learned that after his leav- ing, Pvchi Hvtki, had gone with them to the field to help them sow grain. She had been walking along the furrow, dropping the seed corn into the fresh ploughed earth, when like a swift breath of wind, there had fallen upon her, two, three, four, they knew not how many of the evil pale-faces from the Fort. They had caught her, screaming, into their midst, and had thrown over her head a black thing which stifled her cries. The terror-stricken women 206 The Sword of Justice had been so dazed by the suddenness of the onslaught, that they stood staring, forgetful to raise an outcry. When they did, and the braves came in hot pursuit, the Spaniards had already a good start. The Indians had followed, and had not yet returned; that was all that they could tell him. Scarcely waiting to hear the end of the tale, Pierre seized his lately dropped weapons, and stopping only long enough to learn which direc- tion the men had taken, he followed with swift feet and beating heart. A mile distant from the village he met the Indians returning, and in their midst they bore two of the warriors, dead, but Pvchi Hvtki was gone. The Sword of Justice 207 CHAPTER XIX IN the week which followed Eugenie's capture Pierre was like a man who had lost his reason. He raged and wept alternately. He appealed to Satouriona, to Olotoraca, to every brave of any renown in the village, that they enlist a war party for the rescue of the girl. He harangued them, striving by harping on their personal grievances to awaken a desire for vengeance which he might turn to his own purpose. He even went to the length of attempting to lead a war party himself, he who had not yet been in his first battle, nor taken the scalp of a single enemy. This effort, as was to be expected, elicited nothing more than a grunt of disap- proval from the braves. No one came forward to follow a leader so unknown and so young. Poor Pierre ! Even as he argued and pleaded with them to go out against the Spaniards, none knew so well as he the utter futility of the effort, for had not he been within the Fort, and did he not know its force and defences far bet- ter than they? In spite of all this, however, he talked and argued because his raging spirit must find some vent, even if it were but the poor 208 The Sword of Justice one of speech. All his eloquence proving of no avail he was starting out single-handed, when Satouriona's wisdom slipped in and prevented. After this, Pierre was confined to his lodge, and two watchers kept a strict guard lest he escape. Then it was that he lay in his hut, face to the ground, grieving like a wounded animal, refusing to touch food or heed the voices of his adopted people. Everything in the dear familiar little place found a tongue to speak to him of his loss, to remind him of that short time of per- fect joy. That one week of self-conquest had put the crowning touch upon his manhood, and taught his love an infinite tenderness which the love of twenty years seldom knows. He pic- tured Eugenie constantly as he had seen her coming toward him on the night of their Indian wedding, decked out in barbaric fineries, a little shy, a little frightened at all the unwonted noise and stir about her, but wholly trustful and con- tent since she walked toward him. Again he felt her light weight against him as he stooped and lifted her to his shoulder and bore her over the threshold of his lodge. Then upon this picture would rush anew the thought of her loss. The sense of absence seemed to create great voids which neither mind nor soul could bridge over and he would feel himself sinking through them into an abyss of bottomless misery. Darkness and day passed unheeded, for since The Sword of Justice 209 the light had gone from his soul, for him, it had left the heavens as well. The familiar sounds of the village fell on unheeding ears, and even when a stir of excitement began to pulse through the tribe late on the evening of the sixth day, he gave it no heed, nor did he notice that the guard, which had kept faithful watch for three days, had now left him to his own devices. He did not see that long after darkness fell the lodge fires still flared brightly, he did not note the murmur of voices which came up from the village square, nor did he even heed the sharp staccato rumble of the tawaiegons as they rose and fell with the impassioned oratory of the chief. He did not rouse himself until Satour- iona, accompanied by Olotoraca, who bore in his hand a flaming torch, came to his hut and, standing above him, bade him rise. " For three days my son has bowed his head to the dust in mourning for his squaw. It is enough. Arise now, take food and recover thy strength. Already the canoes of our enemies are at our shores, and even now we go forth to meet them like men." At the sound of these words, Pierre sprang to his feet, galvanized into life by the stirring hope of being allowed to battle against those who had so severely injured him. He saw by the look on both the faces lighted by Olotoraca's torch, that something of serious import had happened. His impulsive questions soon elicited the in- 14 2 io The Sword of Justice formation that one of the tribesmen, wandering late near the sea, had discovered three great wooden vessels, which were come within the mouth of the Tacatacourou River and there rode at anchor, waiting for the daylight, when doubtless the Spaniards would descend upon them and put them all to death. The whole tribe was about to march now in battle array, and when the dawn broke their enemies would find them drawn up on the banks of the river waiting to prevent their landing. On hearing this Pierre began his swift prepar- ations to join the party. He called for food, and when a squaw came, bearing in the shell of a tortoise a great portion of boiled cracked corn, he ate every bit that the vessel contained and even called for more. Then he took down his weapon from the wall of the hut and went forth to join the tribe. While the Indians prepared themselves for battle, daubing crude colors on face and body and decking their heads in brave array of feath- ers, in the cabin of one of the vessels which had caused all this excitement, several men grouped themselves around a table in the dim light of an oil-lamp, conferring anxiously over a map spread out before them. You could not have remained five minutes in this small company, without being able, with unerring certainty, to The Sword of Justice 2 1 1 say which of the men here gathered was the leader of the party. It was rather because of the involuntary deference yielded him by his com- panions that this knowledge would have thrust itself upon you, than anything in the face of the man himself. The curious wedge-shaped head with its extremely pointed chin, the long slightly drooping nose, the full eyes, the three deeply marked horizontal wrinkles across the forehead, all tended to lend the face the look of the stu- dent, rather than the man of action. No one seeing him thus for the first time would have guessed him to be a man of unrivalled courage, one of the best captains of his day, possessed of a dashing and romantic spirit which was to send his name down in history, coupled with one of the most picturesque acts of a time which has furnished the world with much romance. Certain lines of age in the face were con- tradicted by the vigor and alertness of his body. Doubtless these marks had been pencilled there during that bitter time many years ago, when, a prisoner in the hands of the Spanish, Domi- nique de Gourgues, chained to his creaking bench, had bent his back and strained at his oar, a galley slave. Then it was that the fiery spirit of the Gascon, chafing at the degra- dation to which he was submitted, marked day by day this fine network of lines, which were a written record of his hatred and deeply vowed vengeance. 212 The Sword of Justice When Charles IX., under the domination of his mother Catherine de Medicis and the Guises, who were fast pushing him toward the bloody eve of Saint Bartholomew, refused to listen to the cry of execration and horror which went up in France, alike for Romanist and Huguenot at the news of the massacre at Fort Caroline, turning a deaf ear to the petition from the relatives of the slain ; it remained for Dominique de Gourgues, a private gentleman of Mont-de-Marsan, to avenge these wrongs, and wipe out the stain on the honor of France. To do this, the fiery Gascon sold his inheri- tance, borrowed money from his brother, and took such sums as those who, like himself, burning at this insult, would give to the enter- prise. With this he fitted out three vessels and on them he placed one hundred arquebusiers and eighty sailors prepared to fight on land. He held a commission from the King of Guienne, ostensibly as a slaver, which was then held to be an honorable trade. It was not until after some delay and much cruising about they arrived at Cape San Antonio, in Cuba, that the leader divulged to his men the true reason of their voyage. At first his hearers listened in silence to his impassioned words ; shortly the combustible French nature took fire, and when Gourgues set sail for the coast of Florida he was accompanied by a band of enthusiastic patriots. The Sword of Justice 213 Safe at last within the harbor of the river's mouth these men anchored, after a voyage whose dangers and hardships had threatened them with extermination more times than one. " By the reckoning of Jacques Lacours we must even now be near the spot where dwells one of the great Indian chiefs whom I hope to make our ally," said Gourgues, glancing from one face to another of those around the table. " It is my purpose, that to-morrow so soon as light is come, we will make haste to land before the Indians become aware of our presence. By this means, seeing the strength of our force, they will be less likely to offer resistance if indeed they prove to be unfriendly, though this I do not greatly fear." " And this trumpeter Jacques, are you as- sured that he can indeed do as he claims and make clear to the Indians our designs towards the Spaniards, and our friendliness toward them? He hath to me the appearance of being but a parlous fool, and whereas I doubt not his loyalty, I have some misgivings as to his dis- cretion," questioned Francois Bourdelais, with some anxiety. "Nay, I think the fellow hath a better wit than you credit him. As for the jargon of these savages, he was many months here with the first expedition of Jean Ribaut God rest his mar- tyred soul and he had much opportunity to pick up the savage tongue, for the Indians were 214 The Sword of Justice most friendly. And now, comrades, since we start betimes in the morning it were well to seek sleep without further delay." So saying, the little council broke up. With sober salute they parted and soon forgot the uncertainties of the morrow in the rest of the night. Before dawn the next day all was stir and bustle about the vessels. In the feeble light of lanterns the soldiers were busy getting their morning meal and arming themselves for the start. While it was yet dark, the shrill notes of the trumpet summoned them on deck, where, drawn up in orderly array they waited the first faint streak of light to show them to their landing. This was not long in coming, and so soon as the men could see sufficiently well for the task the boats were lowered. Some of the soldiers had already gone over the sides and were seated in them, when an abrupt command stopped the hurried debarka- tion. For an instant the men hesitated, wonder- ing at the sudden pause, but soon the cause for the change became apparent. The gloom had lightened perceptibly, and there could be seen, dimly at first, but more plainly each minute, a host of plumed and painted savages drawn up along the shore. They made no demonstration, either of hos- tility or welcome, but stood like so many figures hewn out of wood. 1 he Sword of Justice 215 A hasty council of the officers was sum- moned, while on deck, amongst the soldiers, many were the speculations as to the import of this demonstration, and as ever under such cir- cumstances, two factions quickly sprang up, the one declaring that the savages waited to welcome them, the other that they were there for slaughter. Amongst the leaders also this same inde- cision prevailed, until one bethought him sud- denly of Jacques Lacours, the trumpeter, who was hastily summoned and shortly came into their presence. "Jacques, you have some knowledge of these savages, what interpreta- tion do you place upon their action? Do they desire to offer us welcome, or shall we shortly expect a shower of their villanous arrows if we attempt to make land?" broke out Gourgues, hastily, before the man was fairly in the cabin. The trumpeter shook his head gravely. " These savages come not with every face daubed in paint, every head decked with feath- ers, and every right hand bearing a bow only to give us welcome, my captain. They are in array of battle, and unless we can win their confidence we will not set foot on their shores without a bloody fight." Gourgues frowned impatiently. "This must not be. While the Spanish murderers go un- punished, I have no men to lose by Indian arrows. A pest on the silly babel of tongues 2 1 6 The Sword of Justice that fell on this world, so that one man's ears should not be open to another's speech." " If my captain gives me leave to speak ? " said the young soldier, touching his morion respectfully. " Speak on, man, if you have any plan to offer. I foresee that we will be obliged to depend much upon your wisdom in what lies before us, since in all this company your tongue only can twist itself to this savage utterance." " If I may take a small boat and two men to row me, and bearing no weapon in my hand, put out toward the shore, the Indians will have no fear of such a little force. If I can but get anear, I have enough of their words at my command to bring them to understand that we mean them no ill but rather seek alliance with them." " 'T is a perilous thing for you, lad, and you are like to be transfixed with a dozen of their savage weapons before you come near enough for speech; but, by my life, I see no other course open. Do as you suggest, and God give you safety." The young soldier saluted and left the cabin, eager to execute his plan. From the shore the rows of silent feathered savages watched the lowering of the small boat, watched the three weaponless men drop over the side and take their places, two at the oars, the third standing out boldly defenceless in the The Sword of Justice 217 prow of the oncoming craft. As they drew near, the Indians saw that he made signs of friendliness to them, and that he bore in his extended hands strings of beads and mirrors. They were not to be appeased by such trifles. When the black-hearted people had first come to their land, they also had offered them such things by way of trade, but they had long since ceased this, and now took by force what- ever they wanted. So the Indians looked with wary eye on this bearer of gifts ; but since he came alone and unarmed, they offered him no violence. When the boat drew nearer, the soldier in the bow began to shout to them a few words in their own tongue, interspersed with French. No sooner did this sound fall on the ears of Pierre, than, forgetting everything in the great hope that suddenly sprung up in him, he un- ceremoniously thrust aside those before him and pushed through the ranks of Indians until he stood out in front. "Are you Frenchmen or Spaniards?" he called, his voice ringing out like a clarion. " French, French ! " shouted the man in re- turn, overjoyed at the sound of his own lan- guage and amazed to hear it issue from the mouth of an Indian. On the vessels behind him they heard his shout, and chorussed as from one throat, "France! France! France!" As for the Indians, to whom Pierre was now 2 1 8 The Sword of Justice speaking in quick, excited manner, they seemed on a sudden to have gone wild with joy. They were clapping their hands and shouting, even dancing and embracing one another in their sudden access of delight. When the boat touched the shore a dozen hands lifted the young soldier from his place and set him on the earth. He was surrounded by a crowd of chattering savages and borne away in their midst, they plying him with ques- tions in such rapid succession that his limited knowledge of the Indian speech made it well nigh impossible for him to understand, much less answer them. After the first excitement was past, however, Pierre succeeded in push- ing his way into the crowd, and Jacques with a gasp of relief seized him as a drowning man clutches at a straw. After a moment of close inspection, the sol- dier exclaimed in amazement, looking over Pierre's brown, painted body, and back to the face which bore only two disfiguring streaks of red upon the cheek. " Why, man, you are no savage." Pierre smiled a little at his tone of wondering conviction. " Nay, I am a Frenchman even as you. I am of the expedition of Rene" de Loudonniere and was saved from the massacre at Fort Caro- line by these Indians. I have dwelt with them for more than two years, and am as one of them." The Sword of Justice 219 " It is for the avenging of this foul insult to the French that my captain, Dominique de Gourgues, comes hither," exclaimed the soldier impetuously. "Say you so, man? This news passes my belief, it is so joyous," cried Pierre, about to fling himself upon his countrymen in the ardor of a French embrace, when Satouriona, who, with Olotoraca and the braves of the tribe, stood by fretting with impatience during this talk, plucked at him now, and demanded to know the reason of the French in coming. When Pierre repeated to them the news that he had just gathered, it was hastily passed from mouth to ear through all the throng, who straightway set up such shouting and howling of joy, that the forces on the vessel became more and more uneasy, picturing the brave young soldier in the agonies of torture. They were even considering an attempt at a rescue, when, fortunately for all concerned, the crowd surged apart for an instant and disclosed Jacques, unharmed and seemingly unconcerned in all the uproar. But allow the young emissary to return to the ship again they would not. They marched him back to the village, where, after he had been feasted with the best that they could offer, they held a hasty council and chose from among the Indians, swift runners to go out to all the chiefs under the dependency of Satouriona, and sum- 22O The Sword of Justice mon them in haste to a great council to be held on the morrow. It was late in the afternoon when Jacques was allowed to return to the ship, and Olotoraca accompanied him as bearer of a message to Gourgues. A shout of joy and relief went up from the vessels on seeing the soldier returning unhurt and in company with a magnificent specimen of a young savage. When they came over the side, Olotoraca passed between the line of curious wondering sailors and soldiers with the erect dignity of a prince who has always walked in the eyes of the multitude. With the same dignified self-possession he waited in the cabin while swift question and answer flew back and forth between Jacques and his superior. When, however, he felt that enough had been said, he stepped forward and delivered himself in Indian of the speech which he had been sent to bear. " Satouriona, the great chief of all this country, sends to the great chief of the wooden vessels greeting. To-morrow if he will come to our council many chiefs will be there to hear his words and weigh them." When Jacques had made the best translation possible of these words and signified to the Indian Gourgues's acceptance of the invitation, Olotoraca, with a brief " It is well," departed from the cabin. Bearing himself like a potentate he made his way to the vessel's side. Here The Sword of Justice 221 it was intimated to him that he would be rowed ashore by the French sailors who waited there for this purpose, but to this he gave a decided negative. Springing lightly on the taffrail, his symmetrical body described the perfect arc of a circle in the air, and the water closed over him softly and held him so long that some of the watchers thought him drowned. Then, far out on the blue surface of the stream, his head rose. Shaking the drops from his eyes, he struck out with long graceful strokes, which sent his straight body forward as he would send an arrow from his bow. 222 The Sword of Justice CHAPTER XX EARLY in the morning of the next day a great stir of preparation was going forward, both on the shore and in the French vessels. The sun was scarcely two hours high when Gourgues went over the side, together with about forty arquebusiers bearing their weapons, with match cords burning. When he reached the shore a concourse of savages waited him. No sooner, however, had the French beached their boats and stepped on land, than like a fog before a fresh- ening breeze, the Indian forces melted away into the forest, where they lurked in the under- brush or concealed themselves behind the shel- tering trees. Gourgues paused, nonplussed at this sudden move, which would seem to indicate hostility. The soldiers began fingering their weapons uneasily. It was a critical moment. Each party distrusted the other, and the slightest hostile act from either side would have precipi- tated a bloody fight and changed the whole course of after events. Fortunately for all concerned, while the French stood irresolute, scarcely knowing what The Sword of Justice 223 to expect or how to act, the tall form of Olotor- aca came from the woods. Advancing alone, he stood within ten feet of the French. "The great chief Satouriona sends you this talk. Why do the people of the wooden vessels carry their long sticks which speak fire, if they come in friendship and desire to be our allies?" he demanded, pointing to the weapons of the soldiers. Jacques made shift to interpret the gist of this speech and to return the answer, which, though not flowing, was sufficiently in- telligible to the quick perception of the Indian. " Say to your chief that the French come armed because the Indians who wait to receive them, bear arms as well," and he in his turn pointed to the bow which Olotoraca carried in his left hand. With a grunt of approval the young Indian disappeared into the woods again, and the French waited with more or less patience for the next move. After what seemed a very long time to them, there issued from the forest four young Indians bearing between them, on a huge skin, a great pile of bows heaped up until they presented the appearance of a loosely woven basket. These they brought and laid at the feet of Gourgues and stood back to wait his action. Seeing by this act of disarmament that the Indians offered a pledge of good faith the French captain commanded his soldiers to put 224 The Sword of Justice out their match cords and cast their arquebuses on the pile of bows. When this was done Satouriona came himself to meet his new ally, and taking him by the hand led him into the forest where several of the old Indians were busy clearing out the under- brush and forming an open space wherein to hold council. Two seats had already been pre- pared of logs covered with Spanish moss, and here Satouriona seated his guest in state. Then taking Pierre by the hand he led him to Gourgues and began an impassioned narra- tive of how the lad had been saved from the massacre and guarded in the lodges of the Indians, of how the Spanish had sought to buy him and failing in this had captured him, of how the Indians had kept the youth for his friends and now returned him to them. All this Pierre translated for the chief as the Indian talked. Gourgues's eyes roved curiously over the boy. He was struck with wonder to see how entirely an Indian he seemed from his black hair-lock, decorated with its feathered crest, down to his softly stepping moccasined feet. The magnifi- cent development of the bare brown body called forth an involuntary expression of ad- miration, for what man does not love thews and sinews? When Satouriona had finished speaking, Gourgues gave over his scrutiny of the youth, The Sword of Justice 225 and demanded, " By what name are you known ? " " These, my Indian brothers, call me ' Che- pane,' which signifies only ' a boy,' for when I was first come among them my mind was sleeping, and I knew not my own name nor whence I came. After, my thoughts of the past woke again, and I knew myself a Frenchman, Debr6 by name." " Say you so," exclaimed Gourgues, excitedly, "Pierre Debre?" " Yes, Monsieur le Chevalier, but how know you it?" " I have a commission to fetch you home to France, and the Chevalier Debre* your father and your mother. Your uncle, Pierre de Rengard, who has but lately come into his estates his father having lived to a great age and kept him in leading as if he were but a boy gave me a sum of money for this expedition to New France upon my agreeing to seek out his sister and her child or at least bring him certain news of her. It is happy fortune thus to find you at the out- set. And thy father and mother, how has it fared with them?" Pierre's mouth straightened, his jaws set, and in his eyes came a look which plainly spoke of the long score which he had to settle with his enemies. " My father was massacred on the island near San Augustine, together with Jean Ribaut and his men. My mother is dead," 226 The Sword of Justice he replied in a voice whose level tone told of his restrained emotion. Gourgues's eyes took fire on the instant. '' Wait." As he uttered the word it was heavy with meaning. " The wounded honor of my country shall not always bleed. Wait." The eyes of the two men met an instant and exchanged their burden of hate. Gourgues broke the spell, "At least I shall be able to restore you to your kinsmen." His companion shook his head doubtfully, " Of that I know not. If we take the Spanish Fort, well and good, I go with you gladly, if not, here I remain, for in the Fort is a French girl dearer to me than life." Again the fierce light of determination burned on Gourgues's face. "If! I know not the meaning of the word. You have doubtless learned it here with the Indians." Pierre's face flushed darkly under his browned skin at this taunt. Despite this he held him- self with perfect calm as one who, being assured of his own courage, little fears another's thought. " Nevertheless I say ' if.' The Chevalier knows not so well as I those things which he must first overcome. The Fort is strong; it is well guarded and garrisoned with a great force of Spaniards who are provisioned for months. Besides their arquebuses, they have culverines which will mow down your advancing men, who The Sword of Justice 227 on their part will not be able to return a shot at their enemies. 'T is an unequal game that we must play, and the advantage lies all with our enemies," persisted Pierre. " Notwithstanding all this, and if their force was double, I say we will take the Fort. Their evil deeds righting against them and with us, will turn them craven even in that defended spot," answered the intrepid captain. Seeing now that the place had been cleared and the Indians were assembled for the council, Gourgues bade Pierre stand near him and act as interpreter. In the form of an ellipse the Indians had stationed themselves, row on row behind each other, some sitting, some crouching, some standing, all in festal array, waiting motion- less except for their restless eager eyes. When a fresh pipe had been filled and brought to Satouriona, he lighted it and drawing a few long whiffs passed it to Gourgues. He having received it, likewise inhaled and exhaled a few times, and taking it slowly from between his lips was about to begin an address to the council, when the Indian, forestalling him, rose from his seat and began: "Welcome to our brothers from over the great waters whose hearts are white, even as their faces. Many moons have we longed for you and groaned and sorrowed because you came not. Since the coming of the people 228 T lie Sword of Justice with black hearts the land has known no peace. They have destroyed our villages, killed our warriors, stolen our corn, ravished our wives and daughters. The land is laid waste. Thus have they served us because we loved them not, but love the French and were friends to them." " I thank the great chief Satouriona for the love he bears toward my people, and my heart lies heavy at thought of all that he has suffered because of this love. As for these people of the black hearts, the hour of reckoning is at hand for them. If the Indians have been abused because of their love for the French, then the French will be their avengers." " Will you then fight against the Spaniards even as it was told to us yesterday by your messenger?" cried Satouriona in joy. " I came here," replied Gourgues cautiously, " only to reconnoitre the country and make friends with you, then to go back and bring more soldiers; but when I hear what you are suffering from the Spaniards, my heart burns, and I wish to fall upon them this day and res- cue you from their tyranny." Upon this a clamor of joy arose from among the Indians, who sprang up, stamped the earth with their feet, and broke into fierce war-whoops at the thought of so soon encountering their enemies. " But," pursued Gourgues, when the clamor The Sword of Justice 229 had abated, " you will do your part also, you will not leave all the honor to us?" " We will go and die with you if need be," replied the chief solemnly. "This thing that we would do must be done at once. How soon can your warriors be ready to march?" After some consultation, Satouriona agreed to muster all his forces for the campaign in three days' time. Then the Indians received of Gour- gues gifts of knives, mirrors, hatchets, bells, and beads, the grim warriors crowding up for these toys and trinkets with eager faces and out- stretched hands. Gourgues received at the hands of Satouriona his son Athore, and his favorite squaw, to be held as hostages of the good faith of the In- dians: then the council broke up, the French returning to their ships, and the Indians to the preparation for battle. Three days later the banks of the Tacatacou- rou River thronged with Indians, who during the night and in the early morning came silently through the woods to the meeting place. They were naked except for the aziam and the belt which held it and their brown bodies glistened like polished bronze. Many of them were elab- orately tattooed on the arms and breast ; all were painted and decked in their finest braveries of bear's-claw collars and feathered head-dress. 230 The Sword of Justice Beside his weapons, each man bore a bag of parched corn, his only food for the journey. During these three days the French had made their preparations as well, and now waited with much impatience the coming of their allies. The day having dawned, Gourgues greatly desired to set forward at once. From Pierre he learned that this was not to be, and that the combined forces would not move until certain religious ceremonies had been observed by the Indians : after which there would be the taking of the black drink, in which Gourgues himself was expected to bear a part. In these three days Pierre had been much on board the French ships, where he had spent long hours in conversation with the Chevalier, informing him minutely of all that he knew in regard to the Spanish Fort, which he roughly sketched for his benefit. Beside this he gave him much valuable information in regard to the character and customs of the Indians with whom he had to deal. It was during one of these talks that the young Frenchman had impressed upon Gourgues not only the necessity of his taking part in the ceremony of the black drink, 1 but of his appearing, at least, to drink deeply of the nauseous stuff, since his influence over the Indians might be largely dependent upon it. 1 Creeks believe that the black drink (Uupontea) purifies them from sin, and renders them invincible in battle. A great man is rated by his capacity to hold black drink. SCHOOLCRAFT. The Sword of Justice 231 Between them they had laid a plan by which they hoped to deceive the simple minds of the savages, and it was with more or less nervous expectancy that the two conspirators looked for- ward to their little ordeal. At about noon, Gourgues was summoned to bear his part in this solemn ceremony. He found the Indians already assembled on the ground, where three days before the council had been held. Now as then he was led to a seat some distance apart from and facing the rows upon rows of seated Indians, whose dark heads and moving feathers could now be seen in solid array extending back into the forest. Here also was seated Satouriona, and on his other side the next most powerful chief, Taca- tacourou. Gourgues glanced around uneasily, looking for Pierre, whom he saw at this moment advancing into the open space together with two of the young braves. Each bore in his hand a large calabash, or drinking gourd. These they dipped into the great wooden tubs, hewn from solid tree trunks, which held the black drink ready for the tribe. The Indians waited in absolute silence, in- tently watching the three figures who having advanced to within ten feet of the three wait- ing chiefs, paused. Pierre had so manoeuvred that he faced his countryman, and would, of course, be the one to offer him the black drink. The three upright figures stood motionless for 232 The Sword of Justice an instant, holding the dripping gourds, then, as with one mouth they uttered the single word ' choh.' It was the note of warning to an- nounce their readiness ; throwing the body for- ward the three lithe young figures dashed up to the waiting chiefs and presented to each a brim- ming gourd. As swiftly they fell back and ad- justed themselves ready to give the 'yohullah' or ' black drink note.' Here it was that Pierre succeeded in the first part of his manoeuvre, for in stepping back, he took care not to retreat as far as the custom was, also to stand in such a manner as to cut off as far as possible, the view of his countryman. The three chiefs waited with gourds raised ; the instant that the attendants began to as- pirate the black drink note, each gourd was placed to the lips of the chief who held it, and the drinking began, to last through all the time that these strong young lungs could sustain that cry at full sound, and while they prolonged it softly as they did after, with almost spent breath, until their lungs were completely empty. Gourgues had seized his gourd in both hands, and was managing to make his awkwardly up- raised arms cover as much of his face as pos- sible, while he dexterously poured the contents of the calabash under his corselet of steel, under his doublet, and shirt, and felt the clammy stream trickle coldly down his body and diffuse itself around his person. He sue- The Sword of Justice 233 ceeded in storing away the entire contents of his calabash some time before that long sus- tained note gave him leave to pause ; he then dropped his left arm, and holding the empty vessels to his lips continued to swallow with steady, regular gulps, which would have well deceived any one who watched him. When at length the seemingly never-ending note ceased, and the young men received the gourds again. Pierre turned to the seated multitude and in- verted the calabash which he held and from which not a drop trickled down to the earth. Seeing this, he exclaimed dramatically, " Be- hold ! we have done well to follow this man. He is a great chief." Gourgues sitting in clammy discomfort, his wet clothing adhering to his skin was well pleased at the result of their harmlesss ruse when he saw the look of wonder on the faces of the Indians. A murmuring wave of approval passed over the assembly, who quickly settled to silence again as the newly filled gourds were offered to the next in rank, but now only with the warning ' choh,' for the black drink note is not sounded except for the three greatest chiefs. It was toward evening before the Indians filed off into the forest and took up their march toward the Spanish Fort. Gourgues and his men, having left behind twenty sailors under Francois Bourdelais to guard the ship, pushed their boats from the 234 T/ie Sword of Justice shore intending to make their way by water to the spot where they were to rejoin their allies. All night long the rowers bent to their task in silent determination. All night the shores flitted by in ghostly panorama under the white moonlight which half revealed and half concealed the surroundings, while the pine trees in the forest near by kept up their everlasting murmur. In the morning the French landed prob- ably at the mouth of the Nassau River. Here they found some of the Indians waiting them, the others having already pressed on. After a hard day's march, now through swamps, now through brambly thickets, at five in the after- noon they reached a spot not far from the first Fort. Here they paused for rest and food. In a few hours Gourgues, who wished to be in readiness for an early morning attack, and who in spite of fatigue could not remain quiet, again ordered the soldiers to march. The Sword of Justice 235 CHAPTER XXI AT dawn the next day the French and Indian forces were drawn up on the bank of the stream, beyond which and very near, lay the first of the Spanish forts which guarded the mouth of the St. John's River. The light was just beginning to break, and its grayness revealed the moving figures of the men who seemed to flit here and there like shadows. Gourgues stood apart conferring with his lieu- tenant, Casanove. Though the darkness covered the deep frown on the leader's brow, it could not conceal the almost ungovernable impatience in his tone. " The devil himself seems to fight with these favorite sons of his and to lay obstacles in our path. How long do the Indians say we must wait before the tide is out so that we may cross? " " At least two hours, my captain." "Then bid the men fall back and conceal themselves in the forest, for I would not have them seen when the light is fairly come. A curse on this sluggish water that stretches itself between me and my enemies. Had it not been for the slow moving tide, I had been able to fall 2 36 The Sword of Justice on them sleeping, and cut them off from the living ere they had time to send up a prayer for mercy on their guilty souls." So saying he turned from Casanove and began an impatient tramp up and down the bank, while in the gloom he heard the low distinct command of his subordinate, followed by the rattle of pikes and arquebuses and the muffled sound of hurry- ing feet He could mark the way of the arque- busiers by the points of light from their burning match cords. As they filed into the forest, they had the appearance of a procession of glow worms. Then upon his cheek Gourgues felt the first heavy drops that are the forerunners of the spring rains which in this latitude come so suddenly, and descend upon the earth like an unbroken sheet of water. The Frenchman muttered a few more curses under his breath. In fact, his impatience seemed to have reached a point where it would be none the worse for the cooling effect of a good shower. This was not slow in coming, and back in the forest the men huddled under the shelter of the spreading pines which afforded little protection against the sheet of water which poured upon them from the leaden sky. Besides being wet and uncomfortable, they had much ado to keep their match cords burning, and only accomplished it by allowing their heads to go shelterless, while they used their morions as a cover for the flickering and nearly dying lights. The Sword of Justice 237 The Indians, more used to the elements, and less hampered by clothing, let the rain beat down on their bare bodies in perfect uncon- cern; and except that the trickling streams of water blurred and mixed the fiercely streaked paints on their faces, giving them an appear- ance less savage and more grotesque, they suffered no inconvenience. In the fast growing light, Gourgues, unmind- ful of his drenched clothing and the little rills of water which dripped from his morion and ran down his back under his heavy armor, still stood on the banks of the stream half-concealed in the bushes, from which vantage ground he could plainly see the Fort, whose defences he noted with joy seemed slight and unfinished. At length the showers ceased and the impa- tient watcher on the bank saw a little uncovered line of wet earth on the far shore, which told him that at last the tide was receding. An hour dragged itself away before the water had fallen so that the stream was fordable. Then, a little higher up from behind the sheltering screen of a clump of trees, the passage was begun. Each soldier tied his powder-flask to his morion and holding his arquebuse above his head, plunged into the stream, the bed of which was a mass of racoon oysters whose sharp shells, standing edgewise, offered a pathway of knives to their feet. 238 The Sword of Justice Nothing daunted, they pushed on, reaching the other bank lacerated and bleeding, but so fierce to be at their foes that they were scarcely aware of their injuries. After them came the horde of savages, silent and eager. Under the cover of the trees the men formed for the charge. For an instant Gourgues stood before them, his eyes kindling, his whole mel- ancholy face lit with a fierce eagerness. In a hushed tone he spoke to the men. " Look," he said, pointing toward the half-concealed fort, " there are the robbers who have taken this land from our king; there are the murderers who butchered our countrymen." A half suppressed sound swept over the ranks, an ugly sound to hear from human throats, for it is but the angry growl of the bloodthirsting wild beast which lies sleeping but not dead in the breast of every man, civil- ize him as you may. Above this inarticulate growl, here and there a sharp sentence pierced the air, "Lead us on," "Let us at them," " God ! but there shall not live one of them to tell the tale of this day." "Forward, then, my men," the longed-for command sounded at last, " and remember, you strike this day for the bleeding honor of France." " For France ! " was the suppressed exclama- tion, as with eager step the soldiers swung out behind their leader. The Sword of Justice 239 Casanove with thirty men made for the fort gate; Gourgues, -with Olotoraca at his side armed with a French pike, and the main body of the troops pushed for the glacis. A few minutes brought them in full sight of the fort, and of a solitary cannonier on the rampart. His voice giving the alarm sent the startled inmates flying hither and thither in a vain effort at defence. " To arms ! To arms ! The French are com- ing ! The French are coming ! " the terrifying cry sounded, while the Spaniard, his quickness of thought not quite paralyzed by fear, loaded the cannon and fired at the unbroken rank that came on, weapons at charge. In his eager- ness and hurry he overshot his mark. He was preparing for a second shot, and the advancing line showed now a little less steadiness, a little wavering before the close proximity of that black-throated instrument of death. In that instant Olotoraca bounded up the glacis, leaped the ditch like a deer, and drove his pike through and through the Spaniard from breast to back. A tremendous shout burst from the French. The line broke, the men surged forward, shout- ing, cursing, yelling, followed by the Indians, pell-mell. Just then a cry from Casanove rent the air, " Gascons to the rescue, Gascons to the rescue," and Gourgues, turning, led most of his men at a run toward the spot where the panic- stricken Spaniards were leaping the ditches and 240 The Sword of Justice fleeing like sheep from the shambles. Caught now between two divisions of the French, with an oncoming horde of savages to cut off any chance straggler, not a man escaped. Meanwhile the occupants of the Fort on the opposite bank of the river, roused by the sound of the cannon and the shout of victor and van- quished, had rallied their forces and began to pour on the French a galling fire from their culverines. Four of the captured guns were quickly trained against them by the French, but Gourgues fear- ing that the Spaniards might take to the forest and so escape him, determined to push on. With eighty of his men he entered a large boat which had been brought along for the purpose, and pushed off for the farther bank, promising to send the boat back for the Indians. They, however, refused to wait for this slow method of convoy. Leaping into the water, each man held his bow aloft in one hand, while he swam with the other. On seeing the river alive with the heads of this savage multitude, the Spaniards became panic-stricken and left the fort, fleeing in every direction. But the French had already landed. Throwing themselves in the path of the fugi- tives, they met them with a rain of bullets. For an instant they recoiled, then the shouts of the oncoming Indians sounded in their ear, and they knew that death stood before and behind. The Sword of Justice 241 CHAPTER XXII THAT night saw the French in possession of the two forts at the mouth of the St. John's, and here at last the soldiers found rest and food. Heavy slumber locked the senses of all except the guards, who tramped the dark hours through, half dead for want of sleep. Without the fort, in the nearby forest, the Indians bivouacked. So fierce was their joy over the swift downfall of their enemies, that all the night through their fires blazed, and the cough and rumble of the tawaiegons, the wild, fierce whoops which waked the silent echoes of the woods, told of the savage scalp dance going forward. The next day being Sunday, the French contented themselves with further rest and some preparation for the assault on San Mateo. Monday morning early found Gourgues and his men pushing through the woods, about to write with their swords the last chapter in the bloody tale which had known its beginning two years and a half earlier. Easter had but lately passed, and the earth was in its resurrec- tion dress of flowers and green, while every 16 242 The Sword of Justice breath brought warm resinous odors from the pine forest. The breeze from the water was as soft as a salt kiss, and had no power to sting the blood to the cheeks. Peace seemed to have spread her brooding wings over the land. Only the slow circling of the still gather- ing vultures, or the noisy wing flapping of a departing bird whose heavy movements spoke satiety, told of the awful carnage of two days ago. Already the Indian allies had been sent for- ward and were now ambushed on the east and west of the doomed Fort. The excited and restless savages had kept so strict a watch about San Mateo for the past two days that the Spanish had not been able to venture forth. In desperation one of them, disguised as an Indian, did succeed in penetrating the French lines, to be promptly detected, cap- tured, and brought before Gourgues, who learned from him that the Spanish were two hundred and sixty strong, and believed their enemies to have two thousand men besides the Indians. In consequence, abject fright had seized upon them. Well pleased with this news, Gourgues deter- mined to push on promptly before some un- toward circumstance revealed to his enemies the meagreness of their numbers. Pierre, who still kept his place with the Indians, was with the detachment which lay on The Sword of Justice 243 the west side of the Fort, where every shelter- ing tree and bush concealed the crouching figure of a savage. To the impatient spirit of the boy, so near the goal of both revenge and love, it seemed an eternity after the coming of light before he heard the culverine in the east bastion belch forth its growl of defiance at the advancing line of French. They were marching in glitter- ing unbroken rank down the river bank when they met this first shot of the Spanish. Fortunately it missed its mark, and Gourgues was not slow to seek the cover of the forest. Here, in the dense thicket on a slight hill over- looking the Fort, he was enabled to observe all that went forward and to survey the whole extent of their defences. While the French were watching, uncertain as to their next move, they saw a large party of Spanish issue from the Fort, cross the ditch, and advance to reconnoitre. Gourgues instantly divided his men, and sent a detachment under Lieutenant Casanove to station themselves at a point well hidden by trees, on the flank of the enemy. With a strange fatality the advancing foe seemed blinded to their wretched position, while the French, already assured of success, waited in the thick undergrowth, meeting them with a deadly blaze of fire just as they reached the edge of the thicket. Before the smoke had 244 The Sword of Justice cleared, the French, sword in hand, fell on the Spanish, and Casanove's detachment executed a flank movement and cut off 'their retreat. Those within the Fort, seeing the fate of the reconnoitring party were instantly seized with panic. All was consternation : men ran hither and thither, women screamed, and children added their shrill cries of terror to the babel. The Fort gates were flung wide and in a body the soldiers dashed out toward the forest, in an opposite direction from which the French were advancing. Suddenly, before the eyes of the fleeing wretches, every bush and every tree resolved itself into a fierce plumed savage, and through the whole universe sounded the blood-curdling whoop of the Indians. From the instant when Pierre had seen the Fort gate thrown wide and the crowd of fright- ened fugitives issue from it, he seemed on a sudden to be cast back to that awful hour two years and a half earlier, when he was not pur- suer, but pursued. He sprang from his place of concealment even as the Indians did, and his voice may have swelled the wild whoop of triumph that rent the air, but his weapon struck no blow, nor did his hands stay any of the fleeing ones. Two thoughts only possessed his mind, to find Eugenie, to kill Lavalatte. Like a deerhound he went leaping past the flying, over the fallen, his objective point, the The Sword of Justice 245 Fort. He was not fifty paces from the gate, when he saw issue from it the tall figure of his enemy, going, not away from, but toward, the oncoming body of French, who had now finished their bloody work and were already seeking more. Lavalatte's thought had been to reach his countrymen, to speak to them in their own tongue, and claim their protection. If he fell into the hands of the Indians he had little to hope. In the first place he was unable to make them understand that he was French, and not Spanish; in the second place he did not know how far Pierre had made them his ene- mies. So, for both these reasons, he was mak- ing every bit of haste possible when Pierre's quick eyes spied him. Uttering the war whoop of the Indians, the young Frenchman redoubled his speed, while Lavalatte, seeing a savage coming after him, thinking him but the advanced guard, put him- self to his best speed and began a race for life. On bounded Lavalatte, on leaped Pierre, more like a winged Mercury than a human be- ing. Now with joy, Philippe sees that a little band of French soldiers have observed his flee- ing figure and are making toward him. If he can but reach them before the Indians are upon him ! He strains every nerve, the distance between him and his goal vanishes with incredi- ble swiftness, he dares not look about to see if his pursuers are gaining, and the oncoming of 246 The Sword of Justice those softly shod feet strikes no sound that can be heard above his own footfalls, or the noise of his thudding heart. He has almost reached the soldiers, and deems himself safe, when, with a lithe spring, Pierre fairly leaps upon his enemy's back, and together they fall headlong, rolling over and over, clutching each other tightly. There is a sharp struggle ; then, Lav- alatte, pinioned to the earth under a body whose muscles were like steel, gazes up and sees, not the face of a painted savage, not the face of the youth who is his captor, but the face of Amalie de Rengard, who looks at him now as ever with eyes of scorn and defiance. He grows ghastly to the very lips, and his quick thudding heart seems to stop its ponder- ous beat. Suffocation, a crushing weight on his chest, an upraised glittering knife, he dimly sees and feels these things, yet the only reality is those scornful hating eyes. As for Pierre, he does not know that the French soldiers are upon him, he does not at first realize what has happened when he feels himself seized and dragged from his enemy, and hears Gourgues's voice angrily expostulating. " God's death, man ! is it not possible for me to save a few of these miscreants alive that they may suffer a fitter death? Let be, there, and you men bind this one firmly and put him with the others." On the instant that Pierre was plucked from The Sword of Justice 247 his enemy, Lavalatte found his tongue, and began volubly protesting that he was a French- man and had done nothing to deserve death, that he was but seeking safety with his fellow- countrymen. On hearing this, Gourgues turned fiercely upon Pierre. " How now, man, account for this. Have you then dwelt so long among savages as to be unable to recognize your own country- men?" Pierre standing back, glared with fierce eyes at Lavalatte, and would ere long have been upon him again had it not been for the detain- ing hands of the two soldiers. He raised one shaking finger pointing it at his enemy : " Chev- alier de Gourgues, if, having heard those things which I have to say to you, you still do claim this man as countryman, then, rather than be one with him, I will forswear France." " By Heaven, this hath the look of a private vengeance," exclaimed the Chevalier quickly. " Say rather private justice," returned Pierre calmly. "Nevertheless it cannot be. It wears too much the look of murder thus to strike down those of the same blood. And yet your manner impresses me as to the righteousness of your cause. This man shall be bound and kept with those for whom I am reserving a choicer death, and when time allows I will hear of your quarrel and judge between you." 248 The Sword of Justice CHAPTER XXIII DURING all this time, while her countrymen dealt death outside the Fort, Eugenie in her narrow cell, waited with ungoverned impatience for her deliverance. Since the moment, two days before, when one of the Spanish soldiers from the first captured fort, wounded, and half dead from fright and loss of blood, had clamored for admittance at the entrance of San Mateo, the inmates had been in a panic. The report that both the smaller forts had been taken and all the inhabi- tants put to the sword, that the French were two thousand strong, not counting the Indians, who seemed an unnumbered host, was not cal- culated to give a sense of security to those with- in San Mateo, knowing as they did that it would be the next point of attack. While the wounded man was unfolding this tale to the Commandant, a frightened, curious crowd were thronging the guard-room, pushing, shoving, elbowing each other savagely, to get to the front, those outside striving to get into the closely packed room, those on the outskirts plucking at their more fortunate neighbors ahead The Sword of Justice 249 with, " What does he say now," and " For the love of the Virgin, give us his words." As the wave of terrifying intelligence passed from mouth to mouth, it was mingled with exclama- tions of dismay, curses and prayers to the Mother of God for protection and deliverance from the hand of heretics. Somehow in this crowd Eugenie had edged herself to the front and stood looking down on the wounded man, drinking in his every word, the only one in that multitude to whom these tidings brought no fright, but rather a hope of deliverance. In her great joy at thought of so soon seeing her lover, any little caution which she might at another time have practised failed her, and she stood with shining eyes and hope- inspired look. Suddenly she started, to find the Command- ant's keen gaze fixed upon her and see his accusing finger outstretched toward her, while his voice thundered, " Seize that French bag- gage and look well to her. She will be for betraying us in some fashion if we do not have a care. Away with her, lock her in the guard- house." Eugenie, feeling herself roughly grasped by a half-dozen hands, came suddenly to the earth from her dream of happiness. "Oh, my lord, I have done nothing amiss; do not let them harm me," she cried in fright, but none heeded. In no gentle fashion she 250 The Sword of Justice was pushed and pulled through the crowd, who gave way before her, and cuffed her and spat at her as she passed, the women taking this occasion to equalize matters a little, and pay the jade off for having held the admiration of every man in the Fort. The girl was in a state of hysterical fright when she was finally pushed into the dim little cell where Pierre had spent so many irksome weeks, and where he had first clasped her in his arms and claimed her for his own. When the door closed and the key turning sharply in the lock told her that she had nothing to fear for the immediate present, Eugenie threw her- self on the moss couch in the corner of the cell. Although she continued to sob hysterically for a time, the character of her weeping changed in something, and she could scarcely have told herself whether she cried from fear, or from a sense of joyful relief. These past weeks since her capture and forci- ble return to the Spanish Fort had been very heavy ones for the child. Not merely was it the separation from her lover, to whom her heart turned now with a fierce new longing, a thrilling pain that seemed at times almost to threaten life itself. " I want him, I want him, I want him," was her constant inarticulate cry, when, alone in the darkness, sleep refused to come and only his dear words and ways repeated themselves over and over in her memory, until The Sword of Justice 251 the pain of longing almost passed human. en- durance. During this separation, perhaps because of it, her love for Pierre had undergone a subtle change. It had passed from the love of a child into the keen agony of loving which only a woman knows. Perhaps it was in that moment when, having sought his protection from the unkindness of the Indian women, he knelt before her in the light of the setting sun, and she dimly understood that for her sake he fear- fully lifted a new burden and placed it on his untried youth. Maybe it was not until she was forcibly torn from him, until the rough brutal- ity of Perez gave her a sharp contrast by which to measure Pierre; when she realized as she shortly did from the Spaniard's plain speech, that she was to be the reward for her lover's capture ; then with heart aching for its bereave- ment, throbbing with fears for her lover's safety, her soul and body in revolt at the thought of Perez's touch, then, maybe, there leaped into being that love which is the crown and glory of life. Her cry, " I want him, I want him, I want, him," was not the cry for physical comfort or needed protection, it was the cry of a dismem- bered heart calling for its dearer part. When the first force of her weeping had spent itself, she rested quietly, and hope began to paint bright pictures for her. She felt relieved, on the whole, at being shut away from 252 The Sword of Justice everybody, for since her escape and capture she had had to bear not only suspicion and watching, but hard words and some buffeting; besides being nightly locked in her room lest she make a second escape. Her greatest trial, and the one from which she rejoiced most to be free, was the presence of Fernando Perez, whose determined, possessive love-making was so re- pulsive to her. Once in a fit of rage she had told him of her hatred, and flaunted her love for Pierre in his face, to be met with an evil laugh and the assurance that he could hold his own against a dead man, and that her lover was likely to be when he, Perez, came to wive. For all these reasons Eugenie was not sorry to lie alone in the little cell, endeared to her as it was by many memories. The first day passed away and no one came to molest her; it was almost nightfall before any one so far remem- bered her existence as to bring her food, and long before this, hunger was gnawing sharply at her vitals, doing much to reduce her hopeful spirit. When the food was brought, it was only thrust hastily within the cell and the door closed and locked without a word. During all this time the lonely little prisoner could distinguish from the sounds without on the parade, that the Fort was in a state of excite- ment and activity. She could hear the clank and rattle of armor as at regular intervals through the day and night the guard was The Sword of Justice 253 relieved. She guessed from other noises, that the Spanish were busily at work repairing weak places in their defences and putting all in readi- ness for the attack, which was momentarily expected. Besides this, there was much shrill and excited talk, in which women's voices bore no small part. The second day dragged slowly, seeming to Eugenie an endless time. When the night closed in, a sick fear possessed her that the French had contented themselves with the de- struction of the two small forts, and thinking it impossible to take San Mateo, had sailed away and left her to her sorry fate. That day she had been entirely forgotten, and not a morsel of food was brought for her. The long fasting had reduced her spirits to the low- est ebb. She wept much during the night, and slept fitfully, dreaming often of a ship receding in the distance ; and on its deck Pierre's figure sharply outlined against the evening sky. She would wake to find herself with arms out- stretched in the darkness calling, " Pierre, Pierre." Each waking from this vivid dream brought fresh tears, and it was not until toward morning that, utterly spent, and sick from hunger, she fell at last into a heavy dreamless sleep, from which she was aroused suddenly by the loud boom of the culverine in the land bastion of the Fort. So dazed was she at first that she did not 254 The Sword of Justice grasp its import, and not until a second roar had belched forth on the silence did she spring to her feet with eyes alight, and stand in the middle of the cell, her hand pressed against her quickly beating heart, her whole figure quiver- ing in her intent effort to make her hearing tell her what was shut away from her sight. She heard the culverines speak three times in all, then silence followed by the sound of tramping feet, the little jingle and clatter of harness and weapon then a long silence a deathlike silence. Then, far out on the distance, came the sound of a sharp volley fired by whose hands? Her ears could not help her here. Not until the silence within the Fort gave place to cries, shouts, screams of women, shrill frightened pipings of children, deep-mouthed curses from men, heavy feet, light feet, all flee- ing, all fear-pressed. She was not slow then to understand that disaster had overtaken her foes and that her friends were near at hand. Long she waited, still standing in the middle of the cell, still with the intent listening look in her dilated eyes. Finally a sickening dread began to steal over her, that, locked away in here she might be overlooked even by the victors and left to perish alone, starving and miserable. Her impatience was so intense that she could not realize how brief the time which had elapsed since the first shot was fired. At length she heard a welcome sound; the The Sword of Justice 255 key turned quickly, the door was thrust open. So certain was her heart as to whose were the oncoming steps, before she could distinguish more than that it was a man, the dearly loved name had leaped to her lips ! " Pierre," she called, all her heart in her voice. It was Perez's frowning eyes that met her eager gaze, and a grim look on his handsome dark face struck cold to her heart as she saw it. " No, pretty one, not Pierre. It is your other lover, more impatient, who seeks you," said he, striding toward her and grasping her firmly in his arms. " Do not touch me," screamed the girl strug- gling to free herself ; then seeing a look in his eyes as of an animal brought to bay, "What would you do, Fernando," she gasped. He smiled, an ugly smile. " I am starting on a long journey, carisima, and since I love you I will take you with me. Come, give me a kiss before we set out on the short road to hell." Then, as the girl fought and strove to keep her face from his contaminating lips, he jeered, " Nay, never struggle so like a helpless bird; no use to keep your caresses for Pierre. Ere he comes, you will have gone hence with me." He turned the girl's shrinking face toward him by force, and set a succession of hot kisses on it, then flashing a little dagger before her eyes he said, " Never fear, my beauty, I must 256 The Sword of Justice send you a bit ahead on this road, but I will catch you before you have gone many steps." An instant more and the knife had found a warm sheath in that poor fluttering heart. The girl uttered no cry, her eyes were fastened on the upraised weapon as if hypnotized by its bright blade. " Fernando Perez, what do you here, when a man's work waits you without?" suddenly de- manded Father Augustine's voice. So intent had the Spaniard been on his evil work that until the voice of the priest startled him he was not aware of his coming. In that moment of surprise he partly loosened his hold of Eugenie, who made haste to slip from his grasp. She ran to the priest crying out for protection. The old man interposed himself between the crouching girl and her assailant. Perez, a little disconcerted at this turn of affairs, nevertheless faced the priest with a black look, and some bravado in his tone. " There is a man's work for me to do here, Father Augus- tine," he answered jeeringly. ' In God's name, man, what do you mean? " demanded the priest. " Take your sword, go fight like a man. The soldiers have lost their heads and flee like sheep before the butcher. One brave man may yet rally them. Go Perez, in God's name go, and turn them back," pleaded the old man. Perez met this impassionate appeal with a The Sword of Justice 257 laugh of derision, " Too late ; the fight is lost, and I, knowing that I must take the short road to hell in this hour, was making ready to carry with me this lusty wench, and so get me a better welcome of the devil, when you inter- rupted me in so unmannerly a fashion." " What ! would you have killed the child," exclaimed the priest, horrified as much by his look and tone as his words. " Aye, that is what I will do, kill the child," he mimicked. " Come, fool, stand aside ; time presses." He took a step forward and strove to reach Eugenie again. The priest intercepted him, and with a commanding gesture bade him stand back. " Fernando Perez, in the name of the Holy Church I command you begone to your duties." " Out upon the Holy Church ! " exclaimed the man hotly. " Will the Church rescue me from the hands of these French devils? Will the Holy Father at Rome perchance stretch out his long arm and pluck me out of danger? I spit upon the Holy Church. Stand out of my path." " By the hope of Heaven from which this deed will forever shut you out, man, I bid you begone," again adjured the priest. " My hopes of Heaven ! " He gave a great guffaw of laughter. "Talk to me of such, I who have murdered, consorted with harlots, stolen my neighbor's wife, and cheated at the 17 258 The Sword of Justice gaming table, a pretty Heaven it will be that opens to my knocking. I feel its warm breath even now. Again I say, stand aside." Then as the old man made no motion to heed him, Perez stamped with rage and whipped out his sword. " Now, out of the way or take the con- sequence," he cried, the light of murder in his eyes. " Now God forgive me that I should be moved to turn my weapon against those of our own household, but there is no help for it," exclaimed the old man ; and for the first time Perez saw that a sword hung from the priest's cincture, half concealed in the folds of his cassock. In an instant it too had leaped from its scab- bard, and with a fiery earnestness the church- man faced his antagonist. Seeing this, Perez's anger flamed up to white heat. That an old man, and a priest, dared to stand in his way! His adversary's very impotence seemed to heighten his rage. " Out of the way, you foolish old woman. I have no desire for your blood upon me, but I will not take my unslaked passion to hell, with- out that French baggage goes with me." "Defend yourself, Perez. Old woman you may think me, but before I wore a cassock, spurs clinked at my heels, and a sword jingled at my side. Try my mettle if you doubt me." "Then, if you will have it," returned the The Sword of Justice 259 other, and with a savage lunge he set on the priest, who in spite of his boast had much ado to defend himself. The two men fought fiercely, the girl huddled down in the corner too far gone in fright to make her escape and summon help, too loyal to go and leave the old man to his fate. Perez was not long in finding that his antagonist's boast had not been without some foundation in fact, for the old fellow had been no mean swordsman in his day, though age and long disuse of the weapon put him at great disadvantage. When a certain quick thrust from the priest's sword pierced Fernando's arm in the fleshy part, the sudden pain so angered him that he put forth all his strength and drove his adver- sary back in the corner of the cell, then with one deft thrust sent his weapon home in deadly aim. Before he could unsheath it from the priest's body, a shout, a dash of hurrying feet, a blow on the head from a halberd, and a half dozen French soldiers thronged the little cell, Pierre in their lead ; and Perez had taken the short road to hell, and to the welcome which he had every reason to anticipate. 260 The Sword of Justice CHAPTER XXIV THE attack on San Mateo began in the early morning; by ten o'clock the Fort was captured, the inmates put to the sword, and the French in possession, taking their ease after the fatigues of the day. It was, however, high noon before Pierre was summoned into the presence of Gourgues, who sat at a table in the guard room in deep con- versation with Casanove. There was no look on the melancholy scholarly face to indicate the slightest feeling of triumph, but rather the gravity of a judge, who having pronounced sentence of death on a criminal has but now seen it executed. He turned quickly at Pierre's entrance, which was almost simultaneous with that of Lavalatte, who was led into the room from an opposite doorway. When the young man stood in front of him on the other side of the table, the Chevalier looked him over calmly an instant before speaking. " I have summoned you, Debr6, to listen to your accusation touching this French prisoner who was rescued from your hands this morning. The Sword of Justice 261 If you have just cause for complaint against him he shall be executed, but I would know first if that complaint was a private disagree- ment or if his wrong against you is of a graver character? " " Chevalier de Gourgues, there are wrongs so great that a man may never utter them in the presence of another ; such an one hath Philippe de Lavalatte inflicted upon me. Had you this morn allowed me to deal him the death which was so near him, it had been but an act of justice in the eyes of God and man, but since this may not be I ask now only that I may meet my enemy fairly. It shall be a duel to the death, for both of us cannot remain on this earth." " And you," said Gourgues turning to the prisoner, who had stood since his entrance with downcast look and pale face, " you have heard this man's words ; what have you to answer? Has he just cause of complaint against you? " Lavalatte raised his sombre eyes an instant, they met the clear, fearless ones of Pierre ; then, unable to bear the glance, fell again. " I accept his challenge ; I will fight him when and wherever he wishes," he answered in a low tone. " It shall be to the death." " As to time and place, now is the only time ; anywhere outside the Fort gates will serve as fitting place," answered Pierre quickly. Glancing from one to the other of these two, 262 The Sword of Justice something in the clear-eyed righteous look of the younger man struck an answering chord in Gourgues. It was with a new tone, a little note of respect in his voice that he said, turning to Pierre, " If you will permit me, Monsieur Debre, I will act as your second in this affair while Lieutenant Casanove does the like for your antagonist. The choice of weapons, I believe, lies with us; what say you Casanove?" He turned to the young lieutenant who was already unbinding the arms of Lavalatte, rubbing and working them to restore the arrested circulation. The lieutenant nodded assent. " But I pro- test, on behalf of my principal, this duel should not go forward until the stiffness has passed from his arms. His wrist can have no dexterity after having been securely bound for several hours." It was Lavalatte himself who met this protest. " Nay, I do not wish to wait. I am more than a match for the boy even so. Let the matter go forward." Gourgues turned anxiously to Pierre. " Have you then any knowledge of sword practice? " " As a lad I had fair use of the weapon, but my hand has not clasped a sword-hilt since two years and a half; " then, seeing the look of concern upon his second's face, he smiled reassuringly. " Never fear, Sir Dominique, the justice of my cause will be at once my weapon and my defence." A little time was then taken up by the seconds, The Sword of Justice 263 in selecting swords from the pile which had been deposited in the guard room. They tried the temper of many, bending them in their hands and testing them with points to the floor. Having selected two, these were carefully measured and found to be exactly of a length. When all was in readiness, four men tramped across the sunlit parade which still showed evidence of the morning's carnage, four men passed out of the Fort gate and sought the open beyond, where the dead still lay un- touched and unattended, in attitudes of ghastly abandon ; and each of the four knew that only three would return, that one more body was to take its place on the field of the dead. The sun was just above them in the heavens, and there was therefore no choice of positions. It was a bad hour to fight, for the blinding light on the bright weapons would dazzle the steadiest eyes, but at least the disadvantage was to both alike, and there was that in the countenance of each man which forbade any suggestion of waiting. While the seconds arranged the few pre- liminaries of place, a crowd of curious In- dians and idle soldiers, seeing that some- thing unusual was going forward, sought the spot, and, some standing, some squatting, made a wide circle around the combatants. At length the two men faced each other weapon in hand, Pierre naked except for the 264 The Sword of Justice belt and aziam, Lavalatte stripped to the waist wearing only his trunks and high leather leg- gins. On the face of the older man lay a look of contempt for the crude boyish strength of his opponent, the younger wore a look of such dauntless courage it was as if he felt himself invincible. At length their swords crossed, and the bright light dancing on the quickly moving blades, the clank of steel against steel was all that broke the breathless silence, while the intent onlookers waited the issue. Both men were fighting with a grim determination which promised no quarter. Pierre's strength was the greater, but he lacked the dexterity which long years of use had given his antagonist. Nevertheless, Lavalatte found himself obliged to watch his guard carefully, for already his enemy had broken it down once, and pricked a tiny spot, which was bleeding slightly, just over the heart. Pierre ever conscious of that little wound, fought on coolly, keeping the red mark ever before him as the spot for his final thrust. Lavalatte was trying not to see the face of the boy, which ever and again seemed to change and become, to his haunted mind, the face of a woman with scorning eyes and defiant mien, but try as he would, he could not shut it away. It was all he could do to shake off the creeping, superstitious fear, which threatened to turn him craven. The Sword of Justice 265 His opponent was weakening, was giving back step by step. Layalatte redoubled the attack, pressing upon him with all his might, rendered a little reckless by his nearness to victory. It was that instant of unguarded recklessness for which Pierre had watched and planned, and now his sword thrusts forward in a mighty lunge toward the bright red goal over the heart. Ere he had touched his adversary, he heard a yell of pain, he saw Lavalatte's figure leap into the air and fall crashing to the earth, an Indian arrow buried deep in the little blood red wound over the heart. A murmur of amazement ran over the crowd. "The Master of Breath has done this thing," exclaimed the superstitious Indians, looking up at the sky in awe. Then the limbs of a tree near by began to shake and bend, and at last dropped their heavy burden, and Athore stood with gleaming eyes and triumphant look before them. Running to Pierre's side, he exclaimed in loving tone which pleaded for commendation, " T was I, Chepane, even I, your brother; I feared lest your arm was growing weak and he would slay you." As for poor Pierre, who saw his vengeance snatched from his hand in the instant of its satisfaction, it was more than his youthful spirit could patiently bear. For a moment he stamped the earth, inarticulate with rage. He was even 266 The Sword of Justice forced to bury his face in his hands to conceal the tears of wrath which came unbidden to his eyes. While he stood so, raging over his balked revenge, before him another scene unrolled it- self, a lonely forest scene, and the white face of a dying woman, and again he heard the words which his hot youth had taught him to forget " Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord, I will re- pay." The Sword of Justice 267 XXV IN the cell where both Pierre and Eugenie had been prisoners, a dim rushlight flared and flick- ered in the darkness. On the bed in the corner the old priest was breathing out his little span of life in painful breaths. From the instant when he had been tenderly raised from the floor, where Perez's sword-thrust had put him, and borne to the bed, Eugenie had not left him. She had bound up his wound and tried to stanch the blood, but even her small knowl- edge of surgery told her that there was no hope for the old man. None knew better than Father Augustine himself that life was fast drawing to a close, and he did not sorrow at this knowledge, but accepted his summons with the joy of a ser- vant who knows he has been faithful, if erring, and who trusts in the goodness of a Master that has a deep understanding of the weaknesss of poor humanity. When, on returning to consciousness, he found Eugenie bending over him, weeping, he gathered strength to console her, while a gentle, whimsi- cal smile struggled to curve his poor, pain-drawn lips. 268 The Sword of Justice " Never grieve so, child ; it is much better thus. Death was to be to-day ; what matters it whether a Spanish sword or a French dealt the blow? It comforts me to feel that my going availed to save your life." But to this her young and rebellious spirit would not accede. "They would not have killed you, Pere Augustine ; I would not have let them. I would have told them how good you have always been to us, and that you had not been here nor borne any part in that other awful time. I could have saved you, I know I could," she protested, breaking out into fresh sobs at the thought. The old man only closed his eyes, too weak and weary to contend with her. After a time he opened them again ; a new thought stirring in his fast dulling brain. Taking the girl's hand in his he fixed his eyes upon her face and de- manded sharply, " Child, now that all this de- struction has fallen, what comes to you, where do you go? " " With Pierre, back to France, and away from this land of blood," she answered, her gladness sounding even through her tears. " Yes, yes, it must be so, it must be so ; there is no other way and yet I fear for you " he spoke softly as if to himself rather than to her. " I have no fear, Father, I will be with Pierre," she answered, infinite pride and infinite trust struggling for mastery in her young voice. The Sword of Justice 269 " Yes, yes," continued the old man, still as if talking to himself, " it must be ; there is no other way." Then with sudden sharp decision in his tone he commanded, " Go at once, send the lad to me quickly. I desire to speak with him." Prompt to hear and understand the tone of authority, Eug6nie rose instantly to do his bid- ding, and passing out of the cell into the room beyond, was groping her way to the open door about to slip out on the parade in search of Pierre, when her foot stumbled against some- thing yielding which lay directly across the opening. It stirred, rose up, and suddenly re- solved itself into the object of her search. "What is it, beloved, what do you wish?" questioned Pierre, eagerly clasping the warm little hand which even in the dimness he had managed to find. " I have been keeping watch here lest you need me or any try to harm you." The terror of the morning, of her nearness to death, had left him shaken and fearful. " Come quickly, he wishes you," was all she gave herself time to answer, and straightway led him to the side of the dying man. A look of satisfaction flitted into the old face at the prompt answer to his summons, for he knew well there was no time to be lost. He fixed a searching glance on the face of the youth who knelt be- side him, "'My son, this child has no protector in all the world save your honour. She has been with you many days, far from here. How 2 /o The Sword of Justice have you dealt with her? As the law of man and the word of God command?" questioned the priest solemnly, seeming to search the in- most soul of the lad with his keen old eyes. Pierre raised his head and met the look, truth and purity written large on his face. " As God hears me, yes," he answered proudly. The priest's feeble hand sought his head as if in benediction. " It is well," he murmured with a soft sigh of satisfaction. " I have pon- dered this question and see my duty at last, the Virgin be praised. This state of things must not continue longer, lest you fail in strength to go on as you have begun. The Holy Church will condemn my act, but God my God He will understand." With a motion of his hand he summoned the girl to his side. She knelt beside her lover, both young faces wear- ing a look of awe, neither understanding what was happening. " Pierre and Eugenie," he asked solemnly, "is it your desire to become man and wife?" For an instant they turned toward each other and their look made their brief assent unnecessary. Joining their hands, the priest began the mar- riage ceremony of the Roman church, his words coming rapidly and painfully, every necessary act and movement full of haste. It was evident that he felt the white silence of death coming near, and feared to have it grasp him before his self-imposed task was finished. The Sword of Justice 271 As for those two kneeling at his side, hearing the words which bound them together for life, they were scarcely yet able to grasp the mean- ing of the act. When the priest had breathed the last hur- ried word, he seemed to have exhausted his little reserve of strength, and to have gone out of life in finishing that last act of duty. But death had not come yet, and later he re- vived, though he spoke only once or twice in the hour that remained. After a time Eug6- nie's watchful eye saw that one hand seemed to be vainly groping at his side, and guessing his wish she found the wooden crucifix hidden in the folds of his cassock, and placed it be- tween his fingers. He held it before him, but darkness had already fallen on his wide-open eyes. His feeble fingers began to pass, as the fingers of the blind, over each curve and angle of the sacred emblem, and a soft smile was slowly making way on his face, against the hard drawn lines of pain. "Father, into thy hands " he whispered softly. The white fingers relaxed, the crucifix fell to his breast making a sharp little clatter against the rosary, the hands dropped softly and Father Augustine rested. At length peace had fallen over the earth once more. The bright flaring fires of the Indians had died to ash-covered coals. No 272 The Sword of Justice longer the harsh note of the tawaiegons or the ear-splitting whoops of the triumphing savages tore through the silence, making havoc with the quiet. They slept as slept Dominique de Gourgues, in satisfied vengeance, the Sword of Justice returned to its scabbard. Hiding her eyes against her husband's breast to shut away the sights ever before them, the thronging horrors of the day, at last slept Eugenie also, while with cold hands clasped on his breast over the emblem of his faith, Father Augustine slept more serenely than any. Outside, the pine branches kept up their ceaseless, deep-breathed sighing, and the soft night wind stirred twelve bodies to a ghastly unison of motion. Again this tree of death had budded, blossomed, and now hung heavy with its awful fruitage. In the dim moonlight, the legend on the board fastened to the tree read, "Not as to Catholics, but as to robbers and murderers." The Sword of Justice 273 CHAPTER XXVI NOTHING remains to be told of this tale, which has reached its finish, except of the sorrowful leave-taking of Pierre and the Indians, who mourned his going as truly as if he were in- deed one of them. Before the French and Indians marched from San Mateo, they thoroughly destroyed the place, but not until after a little group of sincere mourners had reverently laid Father Augustine's body in a grave close beside that of Eugenie's father on the sunny hillside. A rude cross, with its hasty carving, was set at the head of the grave ; " Pere Augustine " is all that it bears. What need of more, when an everlasting record in the heart of God holds the roll of his good deeds. In a rudely constructed litter swung between two saplings, Eugenie was borne by four of the Indians during the homeward march back to the Tacatacourou. Pierre walked close at her side, his hand clasping hers most of the time, for she had grown strangely fearful since her late experience. Often, as the man gazed into the wide-open eyes which still seemed to look 18 2 74 The Sword of Justice on scenes of horror, he longed for the moment when merciful time would have dimmed a little the sharpness of these mental pictures, and restored to the girl some of the merry light- heartedness that now seemed gone beyond recall. When the actual hour of parting came, the Indians grouped about the young Frenchman and refused to be comforted, while, as to Sat- ouriona, his old heart, as he said again and again, "was lying in the dust." However much he grieved, he did not as did Olotoraca and Athore, strive to persuade Pierre to remain. He realized that the going was inevitable. It was all a part of Helmacarpa's prophecy; the taking of a white squaw, the coming of the great chief who would give them vengeance on their enemies, Chepane's going. He dared not at- tempt to stay its complete fulfilment lest the Master of Breath, who had decreed these things, be angered, and send sorrow on the tribe. So while the others crowded about the youth, bringing of their choicest ; buckskin leggins and shirts, bows and quivers, headpieces of feathers and claw necklaces, Satouriona said no word of staying, but added to the gifts a beautiful wam- pum belt, in whose design was woven two rude figures clasping hands. It was such a belt as he would use to ratify a strong treaty with another tribe, and he meant it so to bind him to the people of his adopted son. The Sword of Justice 275 On the stern of one of the vessels, Pierre and Eugenie stood looking back along the length- ening wake toward the fast receding shore. All the heavens were aglow with the gorgeous light of a clearing sky, and setting sun. Great streaks of crimson lit up the clouds and tinged all the water below. Pierre felt a little shudder pass over the girl ; as he drew her close he questioned tenderly, " What troubles you, be- loved?" " It is all blood-red everywhere in this cruel world," answered Eugenie sorrowfully, her eyes gazing still on the red glow of color. "Nay, sweetheart, look this way, the future lies fair before us," and he turned the sweet face to the east where all the gorgeous bright- ness of the west faintly touched cloud and sea to tender pinks and greens, while from horizon to horizon in an almost unbroken arch, a bow of promise stretched. Sailing away under this arch of hope, they are lost to our eyes as well as those of the watching Indians. I am the King Being the Account of Some Happenings in the Life of Godfrey de Bersac, Crusader Knight. By Sheppard Stevens, author of "The Sword of Justice." i6mo. Cloth, extra. $1.25. A fresh and invigorating piece of reading. Nashville American. A story of the Crusades in which three persons take up a stirring narrative and work out a plot of much invention. Philadelphia Times. Characterized by those graceful touches which belong to true and pure romanticism. . . . Very much of the charm- ing effect of the story lies in its archaic setting and the symmetry of the author's style. Boston Herald. Admirably reflects the manner and speech of the period and holds our interest from the start. Philadelphia Bulletin. A story of love and adventure sweetly told. It has the straightforwardness of the old-time story-teller. St. Louis Globe-Democrat. One of the few recent historical novels which show the literary touch and distinct charm of style. Boston Tran- script. One incident crowds upon another with unfailing power. Art Interchange. For a certain savor of courtliness, for its depiction of a gracious womanhood, and as a well-balanced picture of a picturesque period, the story is distinctly one of the best among recent novels. Brooklyn Times. Sheppard Stevens has the gift of style, and his quaint, archaic use of English gives this novel its chief charm. Literary World. The romantic Middle Ages were never more successfully drawn upon. Los Angeles Herald. TTbe Kingfs Frenchman A Chronicle of the Sixteenth Century. Brought to light and edited by William Henry Johnson. i2mo. Cloth, extra, gilt top. $1.50. A capital story of the sixteenth century. Philadelphia Press. As a novel it is a distinct success. As a picture of the Court of Navarre, and of the soldierings and gallantries of that nowise impeccable champion of French Protestant- ism, nothing better has been recently published. The Spectator, London. \Ve close the book reluctantly. The hours spent in reading the "King's Henchman" were richly rewarded. Atlanta Constitution. What is more noticeable than the interest of the story itself is Mr. Johnson's intuitive insight and thorough under- standing of the period. While the book is Weyman in vigorous activity, it is Dumas in its brilliant touches of romanticism. Boston Herald. Mr. Johnson has caught the spirit of the period, and has painted in Henry of Navarre a truthful and memorable historical portrait. The Mail and Express, New York. Deserves a place among the best historical novels of recent issue. It reflects the author's thorough knowledge of the times. Milwaukee Evening Wisconsin. Written in a singularly engaging manner. New York Times. Every page is one of action to the end of the story. There is good fighting under Henry of Navarre, brilliant exploits by Jean, his " henchman," and a lively love story. Public Opinion. Mr. Johnson has given us a stirring and well-written semi-historical romance of the sixteenth century, which will be heartily approved. Philadelphia Bulletin. King or Knave, gtbicb glins ? An Old Tale of Huguenot Days. Edited by William Henry Johnson. With four illustrations by Clyde O. De Land. ismo. Cloth, extra. $1.50. This is a sequel to the author's successful romance of the time of Henry of Navarre, entitled "The King's Hench- man." Much of its interest centres in the personality of the famous Gabrielle d'Estrees and the efforts of Henry of Navarre to obtain possession of the throne of France. Important characters of "The King's Henchman" are introduced. The author has caught the spirit of French romanticism, and it is felt in this story very much as one feels it in the work of the elder Dumas. Chicago Record. He has a pleasant way of mingling history and ro- mance. Providence 'Telegram. Full of romantic love and of heroic adventure, and it has a strong historic background. . . . The interest in the tale is cumulative, and towards the close of the book intense. Literary World, Boston. Contains an interesting recital of some of the most stir- ring events in the history of France. The Chautauquan. Written in a delightfully interesting style, and possesses merit that will add materially to the popularity of its author. Milwaukee Tribune. Distinctly readable. If history could be taught in this fashion now it would become worth while. Time and the Hour. His romantic portraiture of life in Huguenot days is masterly. Courier, Boston. Well told and full of spirit, and certainly deserves the popularity that may be predicted for it. Ne